Read Online The Little Death by P.J. Parrish - Free Book Online Page B

beach house over there.”
    Louis had been to Marco Island years ago on a case. It was a rich playground, gated-community kind of place. He wondered what her definition of a
little beach house
was.
    “This part of the island looks different from the north end,” Louis said.
    When Sam glanced over at him, her surprise was there to read in the soft glow of lights. “How do you know that?”
    The lie came easily. “I’ve been to Reggie Kent’s house.” A pause. “Have you?”
    She smiled as she shook her head. “No, I don’t have much reason to go up there.”
    The car slowed, and she turned right. The headlights lit up an high iron gate. “We’re here,” she said.
    “Where?”
    “My place.”
    He didn’t even see her push a button, but the gateswere slowly opening. He could see the lights of a small house on the left. But it was a looming structure far down the driveway that drew his eye. It was high and turreted, that much he could see. There were only a few feeble lights on inside and no outdoor lighting at all. Louis could only stare as one image came to his head: an old Spanish castle, like the one in the movie
El Cid
.
    The car came to a stop.
    “Yes, it’s awful, I know.”
    He looked over at Sam.
    “It’s the oldest home in Palm Beach, a real Mizner, and we’re restoring it,” she said. “I’m staying in the guesthouse.” She nodded to the house on the left.
    There was no point in pulling punches at this point. “Where’s your husband?” Louis asked.
    “Rome.”
    She put the Jag in gear, pulled left into a gravel driveway, and cut the engine. The guesthouse was Spanish in style and looked new. To Louis’s eye, it looked like it could comfortably house a family of ten.
    He felt a flush of heat. He was out of his element. And Joe was suddenly there with him. What the hell was he doing here? Was this some stupid revenge thing?
    “Is something wrong?”
    He looked over at Sam. Sam with no last name. Sam with a husband somewhere in Italy. Sam with the soft white skin and smell of cloves.
    Suddenly, very suddenly, it hit him. He felt off balance, out of place, off his game. And where that sort of feeling normally put him on guard, now he felt only…
    “Louis?”
    … liberated.
    He leaned over the console and kissed Sam. Her lips were soft, the clove smell strong. The dart of her tongue into his mouth surprised him.
    When he drew back, it took her a moment to open her eyes. “Let’s go in,” she said.
    The details of the house registered in a blur. A beamed ceiling, living room of plush furniture, dark wood, and thick carpets. Paintings on dark green walls with dim lights over them. She led him down a hall and into a bedroom. Soft lights, odd straw wallpaper, dark furniture out of a rich man’s safari dream.
    A huge canopy bed dominated, ripe with white pillows and topped with a meringue of a comforter. Silky netting hung from the canopy, stirred by a paddle fan overhead.
    She saw his expression and laughed softly. But she didn’t say anything. She just came to him and kissed him deeply. Then she pulled his shirt from his pants and raised it over his head. Her lips were hot on his chest, and he closed his eyes.
    Joe was suddenly there again.
    It had been so long.
    Her hands were urgent now at his belt. He started to help her, but she pushed his hands away. He let her do the rest, and when she stepped back to look at him, he didn’t move.
    “You’re beautiful,” she said.
    Then, slowly, with a smile, she reached behind her back. He heard the zipper, then the turquoise dress puddled at her feet. She gave him only a moment to look at her—cream white skin, full breasts, long legs that met at a carrot-red thatch.
    He laughed softly as his eyes lingered there.
    She read his thoughts and laughed. Then she came to him and pressed her body against his.
    Joe was there again for a second, then vanished.
    It had been so long. It had been too long.
    Her lips were hot at his ear. “Forget her,”