Read Online Our Little Secret by Starr Ambrose - Free Book Online Page A

bruises? Sprained ankle?”

    She shook her head.

    “Torn fingernail?”

    She managed a small smile. “Not many here to tear. I’m fine, Drew, really. You can watch the road, I’m not going to pass out or anything.”

    She concentrated on taking deep, calming breaths as Drew sped along the wet streets, casting occasional glances at her. He followed a weaving course through the city that looked to Lauren like a tour through her high school civics textbook.

    “Are you afraid they’ll try to find us?” she asked.

    “I’d say that’s a given.” He looked at her. “They think you’re Meg. And it’s no secret where Senator Creighton lives.”

    She flopped back in her seat, stunned at the implication. “You’re right. So you think they’ll come after me at the house?” she asked.

    “I don’t know. But if those two goons are looking for Meg, she’s in some big trouble. She must have been dodging more than the press when she used you as a decoy.” Drew shot a glance at her as he drove. “By the way, nice sister you’ve got there. Setting you up to meet those guys without a warning.”

    “Meg wouldn’t…” Lauren’s protest trailed off. What was the point? She would. She had. Lauren’s mind rebelled at the idea of her own sister purposely putting her in danger, but clearly Meg had been trying to mislead someone when she’d arranged Lauren’s arrival. Lauren simply couldn’t believe that her sister had known how dangerous things would get. She fell into a brooding silence, watching the ice-slicked city go by while she pondered Meg’s actions.

    Drew shifted his attention to the backseat. “Any major injuries back there?”

    “Yes, damn it,” Gerald responded, still brushing grit off his coat. “Besides all the potentially fatal internal injuries I might have, that overgrown grizzly bear ripped a button off my vest and tore the pocket on my London Fog topcoat. He’ll get the bill, too, once they catch him.”

    Drew smiled at the rearview mirror. “I hope you get to collect.”

    “Oh, I will,” Gerald’s voice rang with certainty. “I got a good look at the behemoth before he landed on me. That man’s going down.”

    Detective Rasmussen of the metropolitan police department sat at the Creighton kitchen table, pen poised over his notebook, eager to take down the facts. But his face grew more confused as he listened to Gerald’s description.

    “… and his hair was dark, a burnt sienna, barely long enough for me to get a grip on. His eyes were a deep umber, with evil little glints sparkling in their depths.” Gerald wiggled his fingers in front of his eyes in demonstration.

    The detective stared.

    Drew sighed and tapped the notebook. “Brown hair, brown eyes. Just write it.”

    “And he wore this godawful sepia overcoat, probably from Sears.” Gerald shuddered. “I mean, can you imagine?”

    Rasmussen looked at Drew.

    “Brown coat.”

    “Oh, and he had one of those college-type rings on his right hand, a big hunk of gold with an oversized fuchsia stone.” He wrinkled his nose. “Terribly garish.Probably from some lower-rung community college.”

    “Red stone,” Drew supplied, rubbing his forehead as if he felt a headache coming on.

    Rasmussen wrote it down, muttering, “Man’s a goddamned walking box of Crayolas. Spell that red one for me.”

    Gerald patiently spelled out “fuchsia,” then added, “He has a bite mark on that hand, too. Put that down as an identifying feature.”

    Rasmussen stopped writing and looked at Gerald. “You bit him?”

    “Right on the fleshy part between the thumb and index finger. No blood, but lots of bruising. I ground my teeth.” He flashed a perfect set in a satisfied grin.

    Detective Rasmussen lifted an eyebrow and nodded slowly. “Good man.” He wrote it down. “Anything else?”

    The three of them looked at each other, then shook their heads. Lauren was impressed with the descriptions Gerald had provided of both