Read Online the Second Horseman (2006) by Kyle Mills - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kyle Mills
Ads: Link
marginally less Gestapo, but that was probably just the reflection off the windshield talking.
"Could you move that back, please?"
"What?"
Catherine slammed the accelerator to the floor and changed lanes, squeezing into a gap in traffic about six inches longer than the car. He could see the surprise on th e f ace of the chase car's driver, despite the fact that this was about the tenth such pointless maneuver Catherine had performed. They seemed to be the equivalent of a nervous tic for her.
"The mirror," she said, ignoring the chorus of honks coming through the open window. "Move the mirror back. I can't see."
Once he'd readjusted it, she raised his window and cranked up the air - conditioning, trying to dry the sweat beginning to stain the back of her blouse. Though all evidence seemed to be to the contrary, she continued to exude more apprehension than threat. Not that she really needed to be all that intimidating -- the guys behind them were doing a good job handling that angle. They'd been waiting on the tarmac when the private jet that had delivered him and Catherine arrived. And that was yet another thing to worry about. He'd looked into private jets once -- stealing, not owning -- and knew that the one they'd arrived on was worth at least twenty million, confirming again that whoever was behind this thing wasn't your average criminal loser.
Catherine slammed on the brakes and they were briefly surrounded by a group of Japanese tourists crossing the street. Th e c hase car hadn't managed to fully catch up yet and was hanging three cars back, but the guy in the passenger seat had popped his door open slightly and was staring straight at Brandon. Making a run for it seemed like a good idea on so many levels, but suffered from a few logistical issues. First, he couldn't seem to figure out how to unlock his door, and second, he wasn't such a fast runner.
"So . . . ," Catherine started hesitantly. "Can I ask you a personal question?"
"Why not?"
"In Chicago. How did you get away with the money?"
He turned in his seat to look at her. "That's it? That's your personal question?"
"I'm just curious. From what I read, you'd have had to make it from one side of the city to the other in less than five minutes. It's not physically possible."
"I don't have any idea what you're talking about or where you're getting your information about me. I'm a law-abiding citizen falsely accused and erroneously convicted."
"Come on. What would it hurt to tell me? What if you just give me a hi--"
"Maybe you're just a cute cop and all this is a setup. Maybe you're just trying to close the files on a few unsolved cases."
"You think I'm a cop?" She was vaguely pleased.
"Not really, no."
The bright sun coming through the window created a halo around her hair, taking her face slightly out of focus. He concentrated on that for a moment, then down her torso and to the legs protruding from her cotton skirt. "Honestly, I'm not sure what you are."
She looked over at him and, as if by clairvoyance, stepped on the gas just before the light changed to green. One of the pedestrians had to break into a jog to avoid getting clipped.
"Did you just imply a question? Is that curiosity I'm hearing?"
She was, of course, referring to the fact that he changed the subject every time she began rolling around to what she wanted from him.
He shook his head. "I know everything I need to and almost everything I want to."
"Oh, really? What is it you think you know?"
"Well, you're a very classy and well - funded outfit, despite your taste in cars. You want something stolen and you can't figure out how to get your grubby little hands on it. So you give a guard some money to throw me out of prison and set it up so I can't really go back. Then you have me chased through the woods by a bunch of guys with guns to see if I still have what it takes to help you. Now you're feeling good about the fact that I'm between a rock and a hard place and you're going to
"Could you move that back, please?"
"What?"
Catherine slammed the accelerator to the floor and changed lanes, squeezing into a gap in traffic about six inches longer than the car. He could see the surprise on th e f ace of the chase car's driver, despite the fact that this was about the tenth such pointless maneuver Catherine had performed. They seemed to be the equivalent of a nervous tic for her.
"The mirror," she said, ignoring the chorus of honks coming through the open window. "Move the mirror back. I can't see."
Once he'd readjusted it, she raised his window and cranked up the air - conditioning, trying to dry the sweat beginning to stain the back of her blouse. Though all evidence seemed to be to the contrary, she continued to exude more apprehension than threat. Not that she really needed to be all that intimidating -- the guys behind them were doing a good job handling that angle. They'd been waiting on the tarmac when the private jet that had delivered him and Catherine arrived. And that was yet another thing to worry about. He'd looked into private jets once -- stealing, not owning -- and knew that the one they'd arrived on was worth at least twenty million, confirming again that whoever was behind this thing wasn't your average criminal loser.
Catherine slammed on the brakes and they were briefly surrounded by a group of Japanese tourists crossing the street. Th e c hase car hadn't managed to fully catch up yet and was hanging three cars back, but the guy in the passenger seat had popped his door open slightly and was staring straight at Brandon. Making a run for it seemed like a good idea on so many levels, but suffered from a few logistical issues. First, he couldn't seem to figure out how to unlock his door, and second, he wasn't such a fast runner.
"So . . . ," Catherine started hesitantly. "Can I ask you a personal question?"
"Why not?"
"In Chicago. How did you get away with the money?"
He turned in his seat to look at her. "That's it? That's your personal question?"
"I'm just curious. From what I read, you'd have had to make it from one side of the city to the other in less than five minutes. It's not physically possible."
"I don't have any idea what you're talking about or where you're getting your information about me. I'm a law-abiding citizen falsely accused and erroneously convicted."
"Come on. What would it hurt to tell me? What if you just give me a hi--"
"Maybe you're just a cute cop and all this is a setup. Maybe you're just trying to close the files on a few unsolved cases."
"You think I'm a cop?" She was vaguely pleased.
"Not really, no."
The bright sun coming through the window created a halo around her hair, taking her face slightly out of focus. He concentrated on that for a moment, then down her torso and to the legs protruding from her cotton skirt. "Honestly, I'm not sure what you are."
She looked over at him and, as if by clairvoyance, stepped on the gas just before the light changed to green. One of the pedestrians had to break into a jog to avoid getting clipped.
"Did you just imply a question? Is that curiosity I'm hearing?"
She was, of course, referring to the fact that he changed the subject every time she began rolling around to what she wanted from him.
He shook his head. "I know everything I need to and almost everything I want to."
"Oh, really? What is it you think you know?"
"Well, you're a very classy and well - funded outfit, despite your taste in cars. You want something stolen and you can't figure out how to get your grubby little hands on it. So you give a guard some money to throw me out of prison and set it up so I can't really go back. Then you have me chased through the woods by a bunch of guys with guns to see if I still have what it takes to help you. Now you're feeling good about the fact that I'm between a rock and a hard place and you're going to
Similar Books
