Read Online Red Night ((Book 1) Timewalker Chronicles) by Michele Callahan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michele Callahan
Tags: General Fiction
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beautiful wouldn’t help her stop a psycho.
What she needed was to stay calm, centered. Beneath this killer dress was her 9mm Lady Remington. Stuffed inside a matching clutch she had several rounds of ammunition. Hiding a large number of bullets had posed a problem so she’d left most of them behind. Standing there yesterday afternoon, listening to the pawnshop salesman sell his wares to the visible customers, she’d concluded that she couldn’t kill that many people anyway. She might be forced to hold them all prisoner in quarantine and watch them die of Red Death, but she couldn’t shoot innocent victims in cold blood. Even though a shot through the heart would be a more merciful ending.
No. She was just going to have to stop Matthew Kline before he had a chance to infect them all at the party. Putting a bullet into his fanatical skull would be less of a moral challenge.
Looking good when she put him out of his misery was just an added little bonus. She guessed she just had a little too much of her mother in her. And the testosterone of nine men in the house to contend with growing up. Dressing up was always fun.
She’d swept her hair up into a sexy chignon that exposed her long neck and made her hope Luke would find an excuse to kiss the sensitive skin there. The dress was the same pale blue as her eyes, like an arctic glacier, and shimmered when she moved. The layered material was so soft, it felt like rose petals beneath her fingertips. More importantly, it didn’t make a sound when she moved. Delicate spaghetti straps bared her shoulders and drew attention to the translucent wrap of the same material that she draped around her shoulders and over her arms. The bodice hugged her body in waves until it reached the flare of her hips, then the dreamy material fell straight to the floor. She looked demure, innocent, and still had room under the skirt to hide her gun.
Only one thing ruined the whole effect, pantyhose. Horrible disgusting things. That was one thing she’d hoped hadn’t been invented in this dimension. Why didn’t they send someone back through time to prevent that thinly veiled attack against women?
Luke’s gentle hand on the small of her back guided her to the entryway, and shot her temperature up by about a thousand degrees. Silently, he escorted her past the doorman and onto the elevator. Twenty-first floor. The Plaza Club. Private. Exclusive. Expensive. Alexa hadn’t been able to grasp why they would spend so much money to try to raise money for their organization. It seemed like a stupid thing to do, but it wasn’t her party. She was just crashing it.
The moment they stepped off the elevator Luke pulled her into a semi-private alcove. “Remember, the case is small. Like a kid’s school lunchbox. Silver.”
Alexa nodded, and tried to peek up over his shoulder at the people beginning to arrive at the entrance to the main dining hall. Luke’s hands rested on her shoulders, then slowly caressed her skin, moving up and down her arms. His hands were sexy. Strong. Perfect. Every damn thing about him was perfect. Distracting. It was getting on her nerves. Who had time to be hot and bothered every single moment? She had a job to do.
“The Colonel and his men are already here. They’ve all seen the picture of Kline, too. They’re trained killers, professionals, and they don’t want this bug to get out either. They’re here to help us.”
She snorted at that and tried to ignore the way her birthmark flared to life when his strong hands wrapped around her wrists, holding her to him. The Colonel and two of his men had spent the entire afternoon at Luke’s house, forcing her to either hide, or drain her energy by cloaking her presence. Despite her protests, Luke insisted they needed his help and called him. She’d disliked the pompous old ass at first sight. As far as she was concerned, he was responsible for this entire fiasco. This Mutant Project, as they called it, was his baby. The
What she needed was to stay calm, centered. Beneath this killer dress was her 9mm Lady Remington. Stuffed inside a matching clutch she had several rounds of ammunition. Hiding a large number of bullets had posed a problem so she’d left most of them behind. Standing there yesterday afternoon, listening to the pawnshop salesman sell his wares to the visible customers, she’d concluded that she couldn’t kill that many people anyway. She might be forced to hold them all prisoner in quarantine and watch them die of Red Death, but she couldn’t shoot innocent victims in cold blood. Even though a shot through the heart would be a more merciful ending.
No. She was just going to have to stop Matthew Kline before he had a chance to infect them all at the party. Putting a bullet into his fanatical skull would be less of a moral challenge.
Looking good when she put him out of his misery was just an added little bonus. She guessed she just had a little too much of her mother in her. And the testosterone of nine men in the house to contend with growing up. Dressing up was always fun.
She’d swept her hair up into a sexy chignon that exposed her long neck and made her hope Luke would find an excuse to kiss the sensitive skin there. The dress was the same pale blue as her eyes, like an arctic glacier, and shimmered when she moved. The layered material was so soft, it felt like rose petals beneath her fingertips. More importantly, it didn’t make a sound when she moved. Delicate spaghetti straps bared her shoulders and drew attention to the translucent wrap of the same material that she draped around her shoulders and over her arms. The bodice hugged her body in waves until it reached the flare of her hips, then the dreamy material fell straight to the floor. She looked demure, innocent, and still had room under the skirt to hide her gun.
Only one thing ruined the whole effect, pantyhose. Horrible disgusting things. That was one thing she’d hoped hadn’t been invented in this dimension. Why didn’t they send someone back through time to prevent that thinly veiled attack against women?
Luke’s gentle hand on the small of her back guided her to the entryway, and shot her temperature up by about a thousand degrees. Silently, he escorted her past the doorman and onto the elevator. Twenty-first floor. The Plaza Club. Private. Exclusive. Expensive. Alexa hadn’t been able to grasp why they would spend so much money to try to raise money for their organization. It seemed like a stupid thing to do, but it wasn’t her party. She was just crashing it.
The moment they stepped off the elevator Luke pulled her into a semi-private alcove. “Remember, the case is small. Like a kid’s school lunchbox. Silver.”
Alexa nodded, and tried to peek up over his shoulder at the people beginning to arrive at the entrance to the main dining hall. Luke’s hands rested on her shoulders, then slowly caressed her skin, moving up and down her arms. His hands were sexy. Strong. Perfect. Every damn thing about him was perfect. Distracting. It was getting on her nerves. Who had time to be hot and bothered every single moment? She had a job to do.
“The Colonel and his men are already here. They’ve all seen the picture of Kline, too. They’re trained killers, professionals, and they don’t want this bug to get out either. They’re here to help us.”
She snorted at that and tried to ignore the way her birthmark flared to life when his strong hands wrapped around her wrists, holding her to him. The Colonel and two of his men had spent the entire afternoon at Luke’s house, forcing her to either hide, or drain her energy by cloaking her presence. Despite her protests, Luke insisted they needed his help and called him. She’d disliked the pompous old ass at first sight. As far as she was concerned, he was responsible for this entire fiasco. This Mutant Project, as they called it, was his baby. The
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