Breaking Through. AM Hartnett

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СКАЧАТЬ lived long enough to see his reputation fall apart,’ Simon replied.

      ‘But fall apart it did, and I intend to keep mine long after I’m in the ground.’

      ‘With all due respect, that’s what my last employer said.’

      Roe raised a brow. ‘And with all due respect, Mr Reeve, you were stupid enough to take a job with the white-trash royalty of Scarborough.”

      Snap and retreat.

      Simon had had enough. He stood and draped his coat over one arm.

      ‘I’d think about it if I were you,’ he said casually, even as his throat burned. ‘Everyone thinks they’re bulletproof until someone comes along and shoots a big hole in the middle of their forehead – speaking from experience.’

      He shot Roe a venomous smile and left the office.

      One he was in the elevator, he closed his eyes and tipped his head back.

       Prick.

      Then again, he knew Roe was a prick when he took this job. He knew right from the start that Roe was hell-bent on destroying Murray’s bid for the leadership – and any chance of him becoming the next leader of this country – at any cost.

      Michael Roe was a bastard. It hardly made him an anomaly in politics, and usually the vote came down to one bastard or another, but every so often you’d get someone like Matthew Murray. Someone young and fresh and friendly who would make the entire country fall madly in love with him.

      He undid the button of his jacket and, as it popped free, he burned with the reminder that it wasn’t the same size he wore a year ago, and neither was the flesh beneath it. He’d traded a steady diet of cocaine and whiskey for drive-thru in front of the television and kissed goodbye that dream of having washboard abs again.

       A fucking snake in the grass for a bastard like Michael Roe, a black hole of debt that didn’t seem to be getting any smaller, and now to top it all off I’m getting a fat ass.

      He sighed and forced himself to think about the task at hand.

      Roe was right. No closet was empty, and with someone as young as Murray there wouldn’t be skeletons but fresh corpses. It would be easy to follow the stench of decay.

      Simon Reeve had been a damn good bloodhound once. He still was, he told himself daily, ignoring the fact that the last year had watered down much of his bloodlust.

      He’d get it back, he swore right there in the elevator. He’d get it back if he had to tear Matthew Murray apart with his bare hands.

      * * *

      ‘No, damn it! You cocksucker!’

      Miranda didn’t see any reason not to have a full-blown tantrum as the bus motored onto the overpass. The next bus wouldn’t be along for another half-hour and she’d run like hell from work to make it to the stop on the other side of the parking garage in time.

      She was soaked through and through, and as she stamped her foot she felt the leftovers from the last three puddles squishing from the soles. Every filthy word she could conjure spewed out of her, burning a hole in the centre of her chest until nothing more came out.

      For once she hadn’t been running late. For once she had felt in control and confident that she’d make it home in time to share a bite to eat with Juliet before her sister headed off to the pubs.

      But no, because the goddamn buses in this city were apparently running on a clock set by the Mad Hatter. Miranda had lost count of the number of times she’d had to run for one that left too early, or sit and stew while the minutes ticked by as the driver played games on his bloody phone.

      And there wasn’t even a shelter at this stop next to the parking garage. There was just a damn pole in the sidewalk and a view of the overpass. If it had been payday she might have given up and called a cab, but every cent left in her bank account was spoken for. She’d just have to wait it out, but she’d be damned if she did it in the rain.

      As the wind picked up and whipped rain in her face, Miranda ran again, this time uphill, until she reached the entrance to the parking garage. She was frozen as she headed towards the side that overlooked the bus stop she’d run from, but at least she was spared the needle-sharp torrent that had stung her bare legs.

      As she settled against a concrete ledge, she pulled her phone from the soggy depths of her bag and swore as the touchscreen did nothing. Her hands were too cold and too wet, and it took another minute of blowing on her fingers before she was able to punch in her passcode and get to her contacts.

      ‘Don’t tell me,’ Juliet answered, ‘you missed the bus.’

      ‘I missed the fucking bus and I’m soaked,’ Miranda growled. ‘I’ll be home by nine, but no pizza for me.’

      ‘Too late, I already ordered it. I’ll leave it in the oven for you.’

      ‘Did he get his bath?’

      ‘Yeah, I put him in a puddle in the driveway with a bar of soap. He loves it.’

      Juliet laughed after she spoke, but there was a hint of acid to her words. Juliet was great with their toddler nephew and didn’t so much as flinch when it came to a shitty diaper or a vomit-soaked onesie, but she wasn’t the most reliable person when it came to remembering to bathe Eddie before putting him to bed. More than once Miranda had checked in on him to find his face and hands caked with whatever he’d been given for his supper, and had had to wipe him down while he squirmed and shrieked out his exhaustion.

      Given some of the shenanigans Juliet had gotten up to these last few months, Miranda supposed she should consider the poor little bugger lucky that his other aunt remembered to feed him.

      ‘You want me to see if I can have someone pick you up?’

      ‘No, it’s only half an hour.’

      ‘Are you soaked?’

      ‘A little. My jacket seems to be keeping my tits from marinating.’

      ‘If you change your mind, call me back and I’ll see if Tim can pop up for you.’

      ‘Thanks,’ Miranda said and hung up, but made a face as she tucked her phone back in her purse. She’d rather walk home in a blizzard than get a ride with one of Juliet’s creepy friends. The last one who had picked her up had spent the entire ride talking into her tits and accenting every point he made by squeezing her thigh.

      She shivered and looked towards the North End of the city. One of the two suspension bridges that crossed the harbour was barely visible in the rain that wrapped the entire downtown, and the fog devoured the second bridge and the city of Dartmouth on the opposite side.

      She supposed that the weather forecast had predicted this soggy mess, but Eddie had had an upset stomach that morning and, between cleaning him up and shouting for Juliet to get her ass out of bed, Miranda didn’t give the weather a second thought until she heard it hit the window behind her cubicle.

      She thought of that other Miranda, the one who lived in the future and had her shit together, who took coffee to work in an aluminium СКАЧАТЬ