Read Online Neck & Neck by Elizabeth Bevarly - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Elizabeth Bevarly
Ads: Link
the whole world was kind of out to get Russell now, so maybe he thought retreating back to that netherworld of adolescence would be a good place to hide.
Ah, screw it. Russell was who he was, and Finn was who he was. As happened so often in life, they’d taken different paths only to wind up at the same destination. To this day, they still approached things differently, even though they had identical goals. Keep the Mulhollands safe, and keep their secrets secret. Finn, at least, would do what he could to ensure that.
“Just behave yourself,” he told Russell, hoping that would help him do his part, too.
“I always behave,” his friend replied.
It was only after Russell had returned to his room and closed the door behind himself that Finn realized his last sentence could have meant anything.
AT ONE A.M., FINN WAS ALONE IN HIS ROOM, AND Russell still hadn’t returned. He’d heard Max come in around nine, then the kid had spent a couple of hours playing Super Mario. Finn would recognize that overly cheerful, computer-generated music anywhere. Unfortunately. Try as he might, he’d never developed the interest in gaming that the Mulhollands had. Not even for the ones that weren’t overly cheerful. Call him crazy, but he’d rather watch hockey anytime. Of course, you couldn’t fire bazookas or blow people up in hockey—not and stay within the rules of the NHL, anyway—but at least the blood was real.
At the moment, all was quiet in the next room, indicating that Max was asleep and Russell still wasn’t home. Finn ambled over to the minibar and withdrew a third beer, relishing the hiss of the cap as he twisted it off and savoring the first cold swallow. It was a rare Saturday night that he had off from work, mostly because weekends were when Russell was at his rowdiest, and he didn’t trust his friend’s safety to anyone but himself. But the last week had been especially grueling with all the preparation for the trip to Louisville, what with having to check up on everyone Russell and Max would be meeting with, and anyone they might be meeting with, and everyplace they were going, and anyplace they might be going. Add to it the fact that Finn hadn’t taken a day off in more than three years, and Russell hadn’t had to do much cajoling to get his head of security to take some time for himself.
And what had Finn done with that time to himself? He’d spent it cooped up in his hotel room—alone—watching TV. Yeah, okay, the room— suite , he corrected himself, still unaccustomed to staying in hotel suites , as opposed to hotel rooms —was pretty damned nice, with its dark wood paneling and Early Imperial Despot furnishings. And yeah, on the TV had been a boxing match he’d been looking forward to for a long time. But the point remained that Finn’s nights off weren’t exactly anything to write home about, which, now that he thought about it, might be why he took so few nights off.
For some reason, that made him think about Natalie Beckett, and he reached into the back pocket of his jeans for the invitation that was still jammed there. He set the beer on the desk and unfolded the heavy vellum paper, smoothing it out until the invitation lay open beside the beer. But where he would have expected there to be an elegantly scripted, formally worded summons for the prospective guest, instead, the card was inscribed in a funky font that described what actually sounded like a very good time.
A costume party, he thought as he set the invitation down on the desk. Jeez, did people still have those these days outside Halloween? Finn didn’t think he’d ever been to a costume party, not even as a kid. He thought back. Nope. Not one. Then again, when you grew up the way he had, parties were few and far between. Whenever Finn got together with other kids, it had been to throw rocks at bottles in vacant lots or knock flattened cans down alleys with broomsticks. Then, later, to smoke cigarettes and drink vodka
Ah, screw it. Russell was who he was, and Finn was who he was. As happened so often in life, they’d taken different paths only to wind up at the same destination. To this day, they still approached things differently, even though they had identical goals. Keep the Mulhollands safe, and keep their secrets secret. Finn, at least, would do what he could to ensure that.
“Just behave yourself,” he told Russell, hoping that would help him do his part, too.
“I always behave,” his friend replied.
It was only after Russell had returned to his room and closed the door behind himself that Finn realized his last sentence could have meant anything.
AT ONE A.M., FINN WAS ALONE IN HIS ROOM, AND Russell still hadn’t returned. He’d heard Max come in around nine, then the kid had spent a couple of hours playing Super Mario. Finn would recognize that overly cheerful, computer-generated music anywhere. Unfortunately. Try as he might, he’d never developed the interest in gaming that the Mulhollands had. Not even for the ones that weren’t overly cheerful. Call him crazy, but he’d rather watch hockey anytime. Of course, you couldn’t fire bazookas or blow people up in hockey—not and stay within the rules of the NHL, anyway—but at least the blood was real.
At the moment, all was quiet in the next room, indicating that Max was asleep and Russell still wasn’t home. Finn ambled over to the minibar and withdrew a third beer, relishing the hiss of the cap as he twisted it off and savoring the first cold swallow. It was a rare Saturday night that he had off from work, mostly because weekends were when Russell was at his rowdiest, and he didn’t trust his friend’s safety to anyone but himself. But the last week had been especially grueling with all the preparation for the trip to Louisville, what with having to check up on everyone Russell and Max would be meeting with, and anyone they might be meeting with, and everyplace they were going, and anyplace they might be going. Add to it the fact that Finn hadn’t taken a day off in more than three years, and Russell hadn’t had to do much cajoling to get his head of security to take some time for himself.
And what had Finn done with that time to himself? He’d spent it cooped up in his hotel room—alone—watching TV. Yeah, okay, the room— suite , he corrected himself, still unaccustomed to staying in hotel suites , as opposed to hotel rooms —was pretty damned nice, with its dark wood paneling and Early Imperial Despot furnishings. And yeah, on the TV had been a boxing match he’d been looking forward to for a long time. But the point remained that Finn’s nights off weren’t exactly anything to write home about, which, now that he thought about it, might be why he took so few nights off.
For some reason, that made him think about Natalie Beckett, and he reached into the back pocket of his jeans for the invitation that was still jammed there. He set the beer on the desk and unfolded the heavy vellum paper, smoothing it out until the invitation lay open beside the beer. But where he would have expected there to be an elegantly scripted, formally worded summons for the prospective guest, instead, the card was inscribed in a funky font that described what actually sounded like a very good time.
A costume party, he thought as he set the invitation down on the desk. Jeez, did people still have those these days outside Halloween? Finn didn’t think he’d ever been to a costume party, not even as a kid. He thought back. Nope. Not one. Then again, when you grew up the way he had, parties were few and far between. Whenever Finn got together with other kids, it had been to throw rocks at bottles in vacant lots or knock flattened cans down alleys with broomsticks. Then, later, to smoke cigarettes and drink vodka
Similar Books
