Read Online Running Hot by Jayne Ann Krentz - Free Book Online Page A

about the little twist in my talent?”
    “He said you could read a person’s psychic profile. Guess I didn’t understand exactly what that meant. I’m surprised they haven’t got you working as a parapsychologist.”
    “I don’t have the academic background to work as a counselor.”
    “How did you end up in Genealogy?”
    “I applied for a position in the Bureau. I like psychic genealogy. It suits my talents. How did you end up as a bartender in Waikiki?”
    “It suits my talents.”
    She knew a conversational dead end when she ran into one.
    “Right. Speaking of your talents, what’s the plan for finding our bad guy?” she asked. “Do I just stroll around the resort like a drug-sniffing dog looking at auras?”
    His mouth twitched a little. “We’ll try to be a little more cool than that.”
    “Even if we’re very cool, it probably won’t take long to spot Eubanks. Powerful talents of any kind are rare. What are the odds that there will be more than one level-nine strat staying at the resort?”
    “That’s what Fallon Jones said.”
    “If anyone knows probabilities, it’s Mr. Jones.”
    “I’ll tell you a little secret about Fallon Jones,” Luther said.
    “What’s that?”
    “Most of the time he’s right but occasionally he screws up and when he does, it’s never in a small way.”
    She thought about that. “Maybe that’s because he’s so sure of himself and his talent that he doesn’t always allow for other possibilities. Or maybe because he’s overworked. I have the impression that he’s under a tremendous amount of pressure these days.”
    “You do realize that he’s a first-class conspiracy theorist who just happens to have a good track record?”
    “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “But I admit that it is a bit unsettling to think of Mr. Jones in those terms.”
    “Pay is good, though,” Luther said.
    She smiled. “Yes, it is.”

SEVEN
    It was after four o’clock by the time they checked into the beachfront hotel in the Wailea resort community. The suite was on the fourth floor with a view of the pool, the gardens and the ocean beyond. There were deeply shaded lanais off both the master bedroom and the living room. The perfect spot for a honeymoon, Luther thought, morosely. Not that he would know. He’d gone to Vegas for both of his.
    He carried his small leather travel kit into the second bath and set it on the counter next to the sink, aware of Grace unpacking in the master bedroom. For a moment he indulged in a pleasant little erotic fantasy, thinking that it would have been very nice to be the real Mr. Carstairs on a real honeymoon with his real wife.
    Don’t go there. She’s not your wife, she’s the partner you never wanted; one with zero field experience. That is not a good thing.
    She was also the only woman who had revved up his senses and made him seriously hard in months. No way that could be a bad thing. It was distracting, however. He was going to have to work in order to stay focused.
    His leg ached. The combination of the flight from Honolulu and the drive from the airport had taken its toll. Annoyed, he removed the bottle of anti-inflammatory tablets from his kit and shook out four. He managed to resist the almost overwhelming urge to hurl the bottle across the room. The damn leg was never going to be the same. Get over it.
    He dropped the bottle back into the kit, tightened his hand on the cane and made his way out of the bathroom. Grace was waiting for him. She had changed into a pair of lightweight trousers and another long-sleeved shirt. At least she wasn’t wearing the trench coat.
    It occurred to him that she did not seem overly impressed with the suite. He was. He’d spent time in the army, put in several years as a cop and now he was a bartender and part-time contractor with J&J. None of those career paths had paid the kind of money that allowed him to check into classy suites like this one. Grace, however, seemed unfazed by the luxury