Read Online The Murder Game by Beverly Barton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Beverly Barton
Ads: Link
thinks because you’re rich, you can do whatever you want, that the rules others have to live by don’t apply to you. I’ve got news for you, Mr. Powell, you’re not all that special. You’re no different than any other man.”
Griff glared right into her eyes. She shivered.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I am different. And not because of my sizable bank account.” She had no idea just how different he was. Neither she nor the rest of the world would ever know. And he would give all he owned if he could forget.
“There’s that gigantic Powell ego speaking. Mr. Big-Bad PI with the mystery past and women swooning at his feet. You love it, don’t you? You love being Mr. Macho.”
Griff lifted the crystal flute and sipped the wine. Not great, but he’d tasted worse. He studied Nic, noting her flushed cheeks and rapid breathing. She was angry, and all that emotion was directed at him. But was he really the one she was upset with, the one who had prompted her anger?
“Go ahead,” she told him.
“Pardon? Go ahead and do what?”
“Tell me why you don’t like me.”
“If you really want to know.”
“Turnabout is only fair,” she said.
“I don’t like women who need to prove they can do anything a man can do and do it better. Men and women are inherently different. God, Mother Nature, evolution, whatever you happen to believe in, made us that way. Men aren’t superior to women. Women aren’t superior to men. We’re simply different. I like being a man and I prefer women who enjoy being female.”
“Fluttery and feminine and helpless and silly,” Nic said, her eyes flashing with anger. “Can’t get along without some big, strong man taking care of her. Good for fucking and having babies and not much else.”
Griff took another sip of wine, set his glass on the table, and asked, “Who put that enormous, ugly chip on your shoulder, Nicki?”
Gritting her teeth, Nic groaned; then she shoved back her chair and stood. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
When she turned to leave, Griff pushed back his chair, got up, and went after her. When he caught up with her, he grasped her arm, intending to apologize. But before he could say a word, she whirled around and gave him a killer glare.
“Let go of me.”
He looked at his hand holding her arm, then looked directly at her before releasing her.
“Don’t ever touch me again,” she told him.
When she turned and walked away, he didn’t try to stop her.
Chapter 5
Stillwater wasn’t much more than a wide place in the road. The only street in town was Main Street. A single row of ramshackle old buildings, all but two empty, looked like they were about to fall in. The two occupied structures had been remodeled. One housed a beauty shop and the other, a two-story building, boasted a big green sign that read FEED AND SEED .
As they drove through town, Nic kept her gaze focused either to the right or straight ahead, pretending to be interested in the local scenery. Neither she nor Griff had mentioned anything about how their evening had ended yesterday. Actually, when she’d met him in the dining room of the Ballinger B&B for breakfast this morning, he’d acted as if nothing had happened. While Cleo Willoughby had served them a big country breakfast, complete with grits and hash browns, Griff had informed her that the Powell jet was ready to leave, that he’d already spoken to the sheriff of Stillwater, and had taken a call from Ballinger’s chief of police.
“What did Chief Willoughby have to say?” Nic had asked.
“He promised that he’d do as you asked and get in touch with Doug Trotter today to request that the bureau compare the murder here in Ballinger with the murder in Stillwater.”
During the plane ride from Arkansas to Texas, Nic and Griff hadn’t talked much. For a good part of the trip, she had pretended to be asleep. She’d been sure Griff would hassle her about the way she had overreacted to him grasping her arm last
Griff glared right into her eyes. She shivered.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I am different. And not because of my sizable bank account.” She had no idea just how different he was. Neither she nor the rest of the world would ever know. And he would give all he owned if he could forget.
“There’s that gigantic Powell ego speaking. Mr. Big-Bad PI with the mystery past and women swooning at his feet. You love it, don’t you? You love being Mr. Macho.”
Griff lifted the crystal flute and sipped the wine. Not great, but he’d tasted worse. He studied Nic, noting her flushed cheeks and rapid breathing. She was angry, and all that emotion was directed at him. But was he really the one she was upset with, the one who had prompted her anger?
“Go ahead,” she told him.
“Pardon? Go ahead and do what?”
“Tell me why you don’t like me.”
“If you really want to know.”
“Turnabout is only fair,” she said.
“I don’t like women who need to prove they can do anything a man can do and do it better. Men and women are inherently different. God, Mother Nature, evolution, whatever you happen to believe in, made us that way. Men aren’t superior to women. Women aren’t superior to men. We’re simply different. I like being a man and I prefer women who enjoy being female.”
“Fluttery and feminine and helpless and silly,” Nic said, her eyes flashing with anger. “Can’t get along without some big, strong man taking care of her. Good for fucking and having babies and not much else.”
Griff took another sip of wine, set his glass on the table, and asked, “Who put that enormous, ugly chip on your shoulder, Nicki?”
Gritting her teeth, Nic groaned; then she shoved back her chair and stood. “I’ve lost my appetite.”
When she turned to leave, Griff pushed back his chair, got up, and went after her. When he caught up with her, he grasped her arm, intending to apologize. But before he could say a word, she whirled around and gave him a killer glare.
“Let go of me.”
He looked at his hand holding her arm, then looked directly at her before releasing her.
“Don’t ever touch me again,” she told him.
When she turned and walked away, he didn’t try to stop her.
Chapter 5
Stillwater wasn’t much more than a wide place in the road. The only street in town was Main Street. A single row of ramshackle old buildings, all but two empty, looked like they were about to fall in. The two occupied structures had been remodeled. One housed a beauty shop and the other, a two-story building, boasted a big green sign that read FEED AND SEED .
As they drove through town, Nic kept her gaze focused either to the right or straight ahead, pretending to be interested in the local scenery. Neither she nor Griff had mentioned anything about how their evening had ended yesterday. Actually, when she’d met him in the dining room of the Ballinger B&B for breakfast this morning, he’d acted as if nothing had happened. While Cleo Willoughby had served them a big country breakfast, complete with grits and hash browns, Griff had informed her that the Powell jet was ready to leave, that he’d already spoken to the sheriff of Stillwater, and had taken a call from Ballinger’s chief of police.
“What did Chief Willoughby have to say?” Nic had asked.
“He promised that he’d do as you asked and get in touch with Doug Trotter today to request that the bureau compare the murder here in Ballinger with the murder in Stillwater.”
During the plane ride from Arkansas to Texas, Nic and Griff hadn’t talked much. For a good part of the trip, she had pretended to be asleep. She’d been sure Griff would hassle her about the way she had overreacted to him grasping her arm last
Similar Books
