Read Online Within Striking Distance by Ingrid Weaver - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ingrid Weaver
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caress. At least, it was light enough so neither of them needed to acknowledge it. “Won’t you be spending time with your boyfriend?”
“No. I’m not dating anyone. Why?”
“I’d like to take a look through those photos if you have them, and I’m an early riser. Just wanted to make sure I won’t be interrupting anything.”
“You won’t. How early?”
“How’s nine?”
“That’s fine. I’m usually up at dawn.”
He smiled. “I’ll bring breakfast.”
Becky could only nod. He wasn’t giving her one of his lopsided half smiles. This was a full one, stretching across both sides of his mouth, deepening his dimple, lifting his cheeks and lightening his eyes.
Fortunately, he let go of her shoulders and straightened up before she could do anything stupid. Like lean closer. Or lift her hands to stroke the ropy muscles that flexed in his forearms. Or touch her lips to that intriguing dimple beside his mouth…
Yes, it was a good thing that one of them was keeping their priorities straight.
T HE CLEANING CREW had taken their sweet time, and now Ralph Bocci needed a smoke. Bad. He hadn’t figured on waiting this long for them to clear out—pushing a broom along the hall and emptying a few garbage cans couldn’t be that complicated. They must have been getting paid by the hour, he decided, unwrapping another piece of gum andstuffing it into his mouth. He crumpled the wrapper and was about to toss it on the floor when he thought better and slipped it into the pocket of his jeans instead. As soon as he heard the cleaners leave, he squeezed himself out from beneath the staircase and headed for the second floor.
The dentist’s office was tempting—there would be drugs in there that Ralph would be able to sell—but he bypassed it and went right to work on McMasters’s door. He hadn’t thought it would be any trouble when he’d cased it this afternoon, but it took him longer than it should have to pick the lock. The easiest way to get inside would be to break the window in the door, but Mrs. Brown didn’t want the guy to know he’d had a visitor. She was adamant about that detail. No traces.
Ralph chomped hard on his gum to stifle the curse that came to his lips whenever he thought about her. He hated that woman. He should have known better than to have trusted her when she’d offered him a second chance instead of calling the cops. Why should the company brass care what happened to a guy who was caught trying to leave the plant’s main parking lot with a car trunk full of cylinder heads? It was obvious now. It was because she’d known about his record when he’d been hired, and now one call from her to his parole officer would put him right back in prison.
Lucky for him, she didn’t want him in prison. She wanted him to do her dirty work.
Yeah, real lucky.
Ralph slipped into the office and went straight for the window to close the blinds. He turned on the desk lamp and saw that McMasters had tidied up before he’d left. There was nothing left out except the computer, but that was beyond Ralph’s skills. If Mrs. Brown wanted to know what was on it, she’d have to find some tech geek to blackmail. He moved to the filing cabinet next. The lock on it was almost as good as the one on the door. He was nearly out of patience whenhe felt the distinct snick of the lining-up cylinders travel through the lock pick to his fingertips.
Good. It looked like McMasters was old-school. The guy kept notes on paper. Five minutes later, Ralph pulled out the phone he’d been given and pressed the number that had been programmed. A woman answered on the first ring. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Brown?”
“Of course. Don’t waste time, Mr. Bocci. Tell me what you found.”
Ralph ground his back teeth to hold in another curse, then spread out the file labeled “Becky Peters.” By the time he finished reading it to his boss, his mouth was as dry as ash, in spite of the spearmint-flavored gum that was stuck
“No. I’m not dating anyone. Why?”
“I’d like to take a look through those photos if you have them, and I’m an early riser. Just wanted to make sure I won’t be interrupting anything.”
“You won’t. How early?”
“How’s nine?”
“That’s fine. I’m usually up at dawn.”
He smiled. “I’ll bring breakfast.”
Becky could only nod. He wasn’t giving her one of his lopsided half smiles. This was a full one, stretching across both sides of his mouth, deepening his dimple, lifting his cheeks and lightening his eyes.
Fortunately, he let go of her shoulders and straightened up before she could do anything stupid. Like lean closer. Or lift her hands to stroke the ropy muscles that flexed in his forearms. Or touch her lips to that intriguing dimple beside his mouth…
Yes, it was a good thing that one of them was keeping their priorities straight.
T HE CLEANING CREW had taken their sweet time, and now Ralph Bocci needed a smoke. Bad. He hadn’t figured on waiting this long for them to clear out—pushing a broom along the hall and emptying a few garbage cans couldn’t be that complicated. They must have been getting paid by the hour, he decided, unwrapping another piece of gum andstuffing it into his mouth. He crumpled the wrapper and was about to toss it on the floor when he thought better and slipped it into the pocket of his jeans instead. As soon as he heard the cleaners leave, he squeezed himself out from beneath the staircase and headed for the second floor.
The dentist’s office was tempting—there would be drugs in there that Ralph would be able to sell—but he bypassed it and went right to work on McMasters’s door. He hadn’t thought it would be any trouble when he’d cased it this afternoon, but it took him longer than it should have to pick the lock. The easiest way to get inside would be to break the window in the door, but Mrs. Brown didn’t want the guy to know he’d had a visitor. She was adamant about that detail. No traces.
Ralph chomped hard on his gum to stifle the curse that came to his lips whenever he thought about her. He hated that woman. He should have known better than to have trusted her when she’d offered him a second chance instead of calling the cops. Why should the company brass care what happened to a guy who was caught trying to leave the plant’s main parking lot with a car trunk full of cylinder heads? It was obvious now. It was because she’d known about his record when he’d been hired, and now one call from her to his parole officer would put him right back in prison.
Lucky for him, she didn’t want him in prison. She wanted him to do her dirty work.
Yeah, real lucky.
Ralph slipped into the office and went straight for the window to close the blinds. He turned on the desk lamp and saw that McMasters had tidied up before he’d left. There was nothing left out except the computer, but that was beyond Ralph’s skills. If Mrs. Brown wanted to know what was on it, she’d have to find some tech geek to blackmail. He moved to the filing cabinet next. The lock on it was almost as good as the one on the door. He was nearly out of patience whenhe felt the distinct snick of the lining-up cylinders travel through the lock pick to his fingertips.
Good. It looked like McMasters was old-school. The guy kept notes on paper. Five minutes later, Ralph pulled out the phone he’d been given and pressed the number that had been programmed. A woman answered on the first ring. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Brown?”
“Of course. Don’t waste time, Mr. Bocci. Tell me what you found.”
Ralph ground his back teeth to hold in another curse, then spread out the file labeled “Becky Peters.” By the time he finished reading it to his boss, his mouth was as dry as ash, in spite of the spearmint-flavored gum that was stuck
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