2 Bodies for the Price of 1 by Stephanie Bond Read Free Book Online

suspended license?”
    “You’ll get it back sooner or later.”
    “In like a year, dude. I don’t want something sitting in the garage that I can’t drive. That’s why I sold my motorcycle.”
    Although a top-of-the-line bicycle would be cool and would give him some mobility.
    “How about a kick-ass stereo system?” Chance suggested.
    “I’m good with my iPod.”
    “Some blowout speakers, then. Dude, you gotta buy something fun with the money. You deserve it.”
    “Yeah, maybe,” he said, thinking that he should buy something for Carlotta for all the crap he’d put her through. Maybe something for the house, something they both could enjoy.
    “Come and hang out while I eat.” Chance laid his meaty arm across Wesley’s shoulders. “I’ve been thinking about a partnership.”
    Wesley was immediately wary. “What kind of partnership?”
    “You always said you wanted to make it to the World Series of Poker.”
    “Yeah, so?”
    “So I’m thinking that with my trust fund and your card smarts, maybe we can make it happen.”
    Wesley’s pulse jumped: Chance definitely had the cash to bankroll his dream. Sure, with the body-moving gig, the community-service job that was supposed to start soon and delving into his dad’s case, he had a lot on his plate. But after a bumpy couple of months, his luck seemed to be changing. And while he’d promised Carlotta that he’d give up gambling, with Chance behind him, last night’s take was trivial to the money he could potentially win.
    Besides—if he were careful—Carlotta wouldn’t have to know.
    He looked at Chance. “I’m listening.”
    7
    “I appreciate the ride to work,” Carlotta said to Hannah. She took a drag on a cigarette, then handed it back with a shaking hand.
    “No problem.” Hannah inhaled on the shared smoke. “Sorry you’re having such a crummy time. Have you decided whether to tell the police about your father calling?”
    “Not yet. And you can’t tell anyone, Hannah. I haven’t even decided whether or not to tell Wesley.” And she hadn’t mentioned that her father had called Peter because she wanted to keep him out of it.
    “I’m as silent as the grave.” Hannah clicked the barbell in her tongue against her teeth for emphasis, then squinted. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look like hell.”
    “I didn’t get much sleep,” Carlotta admitted. None, actually. Not even after pleading exhaustion to Hannah and turning in early, leaving her friend to sit on the couch watching cable on the small television with the distorted picture. She’d been on edge all night, hoping the phone would ring, praying it wouldn’t.
    And on top of everything else, there was Peter burnt into her brain, into her heart. And the disconcerting image of Jack Terry’s face, looking as if he actually cared.
    “Give yourself a break. You’ve been through a lot lately, with Wesley’s arrest, then Angela Ashford’s murder and now all this.”
    Carlotta tried to smile. “Guess it’s all hitting me. Post-traumatic stress disorder, maybe. I feel a little out of it.”
    “Yeah, when I saw you jogging yesterday morning a couple of blocks from your house I yelled, but you were in a freaking trance.”
    Carlotta frowned. “That was someone else. Have you ever known me to jog?”
    “No, but I’ve never seen you gaga over a guy before either, like the way you are with Peter Asshole.”
    “Be nice. And I’m not gaga over him. We have…history.”
    “He dumped you when you needed him most and now—after you’ve made it on your own—he expects you to take him back?”
    Carlotta retrieved the cigarette and drew on it hard. “Made it on my own? That’s a laugh. My life is a disaster. ”
    “What? And his is something to brag about?”
    “He’s successful.”
    “And conspicuously rich. Yeah, I noticed. He was also in a dysfunctional marriage which ended when his wife was murdered. The man has issues, Carlotta.”
    “Don’t we all?” she murmured,