Read Online Tempting Evil by Allison Brennan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Allison Brennan
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Bianchi when he had Blackie Goethe’s gang cornered. He knew he couldn’t take them all, so he tipped his hand, put his own freedom on the line. With Chapman and Doherty, he’d probably thought he could separate them, take one of them down first, then the other.”
“What happened? How did he trip up?”
Hans climbed into the cab, then into the backseat. He stared at the seat belts, then settled in the middle. “Doherty sat here. That way he could see both Chapman and O’Brien. He didn’t trust Chapman because he’s a hothead. He didn’t trust O’Brien because he’s smart. And—and because he disappeared for a couple days. He left to trap Blackie Goethe’s gang. He had a good excuse, something that sounded right on the surface, but Doherty is suspicious by nature. He wouldn’t trust him. He’d want to watch him. But he didn’t shoot him because he thought O’Brien was going to turn him in.”
“He shot him because of Jo,” Tyler said, suddenly putting the facts in perspective. “O’Brien was in the passenger seat with the map.”
“Exactly. He was trying to figure out where they were going, who they planned on seeing. Probably joking around a bit. Trying to get them to trust him. But he said the wrong thing about Jo Sutton.”
“Guy talk,” Bianchi interjected. “Something seemingly innocuous, like how hot she was.”
“He knew what she looked like, but not her name,” Tyler remembered. “Doherty had a picture. O’Brien wanted to warn her, but didn’t know who she was. He started asking Doherty questions about her.”
“He asked the
wrong
questions,” Vigo said. “They didn’t know O’Brien was trying to send them back to prison. Doherty thought that O’Brien was trying to steal his girl.”
“Jo Sutton is not his girl,” Tyler said.
Vigo shook his head as if to clear it. “Sorry. I sometimes get overinvolved in my profiles.”
Tyler nodded, feeling a touch self-conscious by his reaction. Jo was
his
girl. If only she would realize it.
Her words that night came to him loud and clear.
“I feel like I’m still married.”
Jo Sutton belonged to a dead man. And until she made peace with that, she wouldn’t be able to open up to him.
But damn if he was going to let some psychopathic obsessive killer near her.
“I may be wrong,” Vigo admitted as he clambered out of the truck. “It’s just an educated guess.”
Bianchi said, “Your educated guesses are usually right on the money. And it fits what we know about Doherty’s personality and O’Brien’s phone call.”
“Let’s move,” Tyler said.
“And put these bastards back in prison,” Vigo added.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Tyler said, relieved to be moving again.
Aaron rode directly behind Joanna, who led the twelve-mile trek to where the Boy Scouts were waiting. They were going at a steady 10-to 15-mile-per-hour pace, primarily because visibility was poor. But it wasn’t snowing, the few flakes falling almost as an afterthought.
Aaron didn’t feel the cold, he barely felt the motor of the snowmobile beneath him. His jaw was locked tight and he stared at Joanna’s bright red ski jacket.
Why had she asked two other men to join them?
The excuse that they could bring the boys back together rang hollow. Why hadn’t she thought of that at first? Why all this deception? Why didn’t she want to be alone with him? Hadn’t they planned this lover’s interlude, time to really get to know each other as they rode to save the Boy Scouts?
An anguished cry caught in his throat. She didn’t love him like he loved her. How could he believe he was worthy of such a beautiful, smart woman?
(You’re pathetic, kill her now.)
He was a convicted murderer, a man who couldn’t provide for Joanna. How could he keep her happy? How could he care for her and make sure she had everything she wanted? When they were on the run, constantly looking over their shoulders. How could he expect her to live
“What happened? How did he trip up?”
Hans climbed into the cab, then into the backseat. He stared at the seat belts, then settled in the middle. “Doherty sat here. That way he could see both Chapman and O’Brien. He didn’t trust Chapman because he’s a hothead. He didn’t trust O’Brien because he’s smart. And—and because he disappeared for a couple days. He left to trap Blackie Goethe’s gang. He had a good excuse, something that sounded right on the surface, but Doherty is suspicious by nature. He wouldn’t trust him. He’d want to watch him. But he didn’t shoot him because he thought O’Brien was going to turn him in.”
“He shot him because of Jo,” Tyler said, suddenly putting the facts in perspective. “O’Brien was in the passenger seat with the map.”
“Exactly. He was trying to figure out where they were going, who they planned on seeing. Probably joking around a bit. Trying to get them to trust him. But he said the wrong thing about Jo Sutton.”
“Guy talk,” Bianchi interjected. “Something seemingly innocuous, like how hot she was.”
“He knew what she looked like, but not her name,” Tyler remembered. “Doherty had a picture. O’Brien wanted to warn her, but didn’t know who she was. He started asking Doherty questions about her.”
“He asked the
wrong
questions,” Vigo said. “They didn’t know O’Brien was trying to send them back to prison. Doherty thought that O’Brien was trying to steal his girl.”
“Jo Sutton is not his girl,” Tyler said.
Vigo shook his head as if to clear it. “Sorry. I sometimes get overinvolved in my profiles.”
Tyler nodded, feeling a touch self-conscious by his reaction. Jo was
his
girl. If only she would realize it.
Her words that night came to him loud and clear.
“I feel like I’m still married.”
Jo Sutton belonged to a dead man. And until she made peace with that, she wouldn’t be able to open up to him.
But damn if he was going to let some psychopathic obsessive killer near her.
“I may be wrong,” Vigo admitted as he clambered out of the truck. “It’s just an educated guess.”
Bianchi said, “Your educated guesses are usually right on the money. And it fits what we know about Doherty’s personality and O’Brien’s phone call.”
“Let’s move,” Tyler said.
“And put these bastards back in prison,” Vigo added.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Tyler said, relieved to be moving again.
Aaron rode directly behind Joanna, who led the twelve-mile trek to where the Boy Scouts were waiting. They were going at a steady 10-to 15-mile-per-hour pace, primarily because visibility was poor. But it wasn’t snowing, the few flakes falling almost as an afterthought.
Aaron didn’t feel the cold, he barely felt the motor of the snowmobile beneath him. His jaw was locked tight and he stared at Joanna’s bright red ski jacket.
Why had she asked two other men to join them?
The excuse that they could bring the boys back together rang hollow. Why hadn’t she thought of that at first? Why all this deception? Why didn’t she want to be alone with him? Hadn’t they planned this lover’s interlude, time to really get to know each other as they rode to save the Boy Scouts?
An anguished cry caught in his throat. She didn’t love him like he loved her. How could he believe he was worthy of such a beautiful, smart woman?
(You’re pathetic, kill her now.)
He was a convicted murderer, a man who couldn’t provide for Joanna. How could he keep her happy? How could he care for her and make sure she had everything she wanted? When they were on the run, constantly looking over their shoulders. How could he expect her to live
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