Deadly Gamble. Linda Miller Lael

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ an idea,” I said, whacking the freezer door shut with the flat of one hand. “Go ‘visit’ your mother.”

      “Your attitude is very unbecoming, you know,” Nick said. With a sigh, he put the Oreos back in the cupboard. “What did my mother ever do to deserve this…rancor?”

      “Well, first of all,” I replied, ticking number one off on my finger, “she gave birth to you. Second, she stuck her nose into our business every chance she got. And third, she saw to it that I got bupkis in the divorce.” I paused. “Oh, and then there’s the way her head sprouts snakes at the most unexpected moments.”

      “You don’t like her,” Nick said, sad and surprised.

      “Don’t take it too hard, but I don’t like you very much, either.”

      “If you knew the trouble I have to go to, to keep a charge,” he replied, quietly stricken, “you wouldn’t be so rude.”

      I grabbed the coffee carafe, poured out the stale stuff I’d never gotten around to drinking earlier and cranked on the faucet. The pipes rattled. “If that little illusion gives you consolation, Nick,” I said, “you just go with it. And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell me what the hell you want? As long as it isn’t sex, I’ll give it to you, and you can move on to the next plane of existence, or whatever it is you dead people do.”

      Any self-respecting spook would have been insulted enough to vanish, but not Nick. He grinned, pulled back a chair at the table and sat down. “No sex, huh?”

      “Not on your—life,” I said.

      “Bummer,” he sighed.

      “Don’t you have something to do? In the train station or whatever it is?”

      Another sigh. “I’m stuck in the depot until I deal with you,” Nick said, and he looked just earnest enough to be telling the truth.

      A clear indication that he was lying through his perfect teeth.

      “Are you sleeping with that biker?” he asked.

      “That comes under the heading of None of Your Damn Business.” I sloshed the water into the top of the coffeemaker, spooned some Starbucks into the basket and jammed the carafe onto the burner.

      “A biker, for Christ’s sake?”

      “Tucker’s not a biker. He’s a cop. Narcotics division.”

      “At least his name rhymes with my opinion of him.”

      “Gee, and your opinion matters so much.”

      “You didn’t used to be so hard.”

      “Well, you haven’t changed at all.” I leaned against the counter, folding my arms. Chester wound his silky way around my ankles. “You’re still an arrogant, self-centered ass.”

      “I have changed, Mojo.”

      “Right,” I agreed tartly. “You’re dead.”

      “That was a low blow.”

      “It’s true, isn’t it?”

      “I’m trying to help you.”

      “How? By scaring me out of my wits? By undermining my sanity?”

      “I brought back your cat.”

      I looked down at Chester and, on impulse, scooped him up. He felt so real, and pretty chunky. Whatever they were feeding him on the other side, it was sticking to his ribs.

      Suddenly, I wanted to cry. I knew I’d loved Chester once, and I was dangerously close to loving him again.

      “You never got to say goodbye to him,” Nick said.

      I buried my face in white, warm fur. “He can’t stay,” I mourned.

      “No,” Nick agreed gently. “It’s a frequency thing. These appearances are pretty tough to sustain. But he’s not dead, Mojo. He’s alive, but in a whole different way. That’s the point.”

      Chester’s fur was damp, where I’d cried on him. “It’s the same with you.” Statement, but it had the tone of a question.

      Nick nodded. “The difference is, when he goes back, he’ll be able to get onto a train and go on to whatever his idea of heaven happens to be. I’ll still be stuck at the station.”

      I was grudgingly intrigued, if not necessarily sympathetic. I’d loved Nick completely, and he might as well have torn my heart out of my body and backed over it with a UPS truck. “Why?”

      “Unresolved issues,” he said, with yet another sigh.

      I studied him, still holding Chester as close as I could without squashing him. “What kind of unresolved issues?” I asked suspiciously.

      “You trusted me. You loved me. And I betrayed you. I have to earn your forgiveness.”

      “Is that all?” I sniffed, reluctantly set Chester down on the floor, straightened again. “Okay. That’s easy. You’re forgiven. Now, kindly hop on the Starlight Express and stop showing up in my apartment.”

      If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn Nick was being sincere. He actually looked remorseful. “Sorry,” he said. “It isn’t that easy. You can’t just toss off a platitude. You have to really mean it.”

      “Shit,” I said.

      He looked like a kicked puppy. “Was it that bad? I remember some really good times together.”

      “Do you?” I grabbed a mug down off the shelf. No sense getting two; if Nick couldn’t eat Oreos, he probably couldn’t drink coffee, either. “Maybe you’re confusing me with your secretary—excuse me, executive assistant. I caught you boinking her in a construction trailer once, remember? Or maybe it’s that sweet young thing in the condo down the hall from ours. The one who always wanted you to fix something. Or—”

      Nick put up a hand, rose wearily to his feet. “I’m sorry, Mojo. What else can I say? I can’t change the past.”

      Tears stung my eyes. “Get out, Nick.”

      He was gone in a blink.

      And Chester went with him.

      “YOU’VE BEEN CRYING,” Greer accused, when I showed up at her mansion outside of Scottsdale at five to six that night, bringing along a bottle of Chardonnay donated by Bert. A glorious Arizona sunset blazed crimson and pink and apricot on the western horizon.

      “No, I haven’t,” I said. It was a partial truth, anyway. I’d spent the afternoon at my computer, coding and billing, and the May rent was a sure thing. I’d also gone through a whole box of tissues.

      Greer looked rich—and skeptical—in her floaty flowered skirt and pink matching top. Her blond hair was in a French braid, and I wondered how she stood so straight, СКАЧАТЬ