On the Hook by Cindy Davis Read Free Book Online Page A

light given by the bank of aquariums, she and Grady walked to the back room, Westen bending to straighten a stack of dog food, he stooping to pluck a feather from the carpet.
    She leaned against the front of her desk, arms crossed. Grady shoved his hands in his pants pockets. Then he removed them and crossed his arms too. Then he uncrossed them and let them dangle loose as if they were too much to worry about.
    “I have been thinking...”
    She didn’t speak, couldn’t help him with this conversation.
    “I’ve been thinking about…”
    If he was going to add only one word each time, she would never get home.
    Oh, what difference did that make? All she’d do was sit around lamenting the events of the day, front and center of which would probably be Grady’s momentous news.
    Somebody knocked on the front door.
    “Ignore them, they’ll come back in the morning.” People often tried to get them to open after hours.
    When several seconds passed without him speaking or any further knocking, Westen helped hurry-up the situation. “Grady, we’ve known each other a long time. Treat bad news like a bandage—just yank it off. In the end, it’ll hurt a lot less.”
    “You’re right of course. It’s just that—”
    More knocking. This time louder.
    Grady opened his mouth but before he could get a word out, the knocking turned to pounding, and shouting. Westen couldn’t understand what the person was saying given the thick glass, long hallway, and shelves of inventory.
    “Maybe the place is on fire or something,” Grady said.
    The way things had been going, it wouldn’t be a surprise. At least that insurance was paid. “Guess we’d better go see.”
    They hurried to the front. Westen nearly groaned seeing Kendra Jean Valentine standing on the sidewalk. She looked angry.

Chapter Seven
    Westen sent Grady home with an apology and a promise they’d speak first thing in the morning. Load off his mind, he left for the back door with a jaunty step that again reminded Westen of the Bavarian band.
    Though preferring to stay and listen to the entertainment in her head, she succumbed to KJs incessant pounding and unlocked the door. KJ burst into the building. Westen stepped back to avoid being hit by fallout. KJ took hold of her sleeve. “Come.” Not one to take orders with an easy grace, Westen yanked her sleeve from KJ’s grasp. Kendra Jean wasn’t giving up so easily. So she got a better grip and pulled again. “Come on. I have to show you something.”
    Westen gave one final yank and took back possession of her shirt. “Stop it.”
    “Westen, you have to be at the airport in thirty-six minutes.”
    “Airp— You beanbag, what on earth are you talking about?”
    “Just come on, I’ll explain on the way.” KJ snatched Westen’s jacket and handbag from the counter, then pushed, shoved, and nudged her—which wasn’t that difficult since Westen had lost more than thirty pounds since Ben’s death—out onto the sidewalk. KJ stopped shoving long enough to let her lock the door and set the alarm. Then she took hold of Westen’s arm again and propelled her into a waiting cab.
    They shot into the approaching evening in the direction of Manchester. “Just where do you think you’re hijacking me to?” Westen said, once she caught her breath.
    “I figured out how this can work. The flight leaves in an hour.”
    “I thought you needed two hours to check in.”
    “Don’t worry about it.”
    “Kendra Jean, I am worried about it. I spent my whole time in high school with you manipulating me.” The word manipulating seemed nicer than the one she’d been thinking—torturing. “I’m not letting it happen again.”
    “This isn’t the same thing.”
    “No? Seems to me this is all for your benefit, just like back then. Cheating to become valedictorian. Lying to steal the quarterback. What will I get out of this deal?”
    “Lots and lots of money.”
    “What about my shop? I have a busin—”
    “Taken care