A Shot in the Dark by K. A. Stewart Read Free Book Online

collar of his designer polo shirt and shake him like a rag doll?
    The strangeness of my reaction bothered me the rest of the day, enough that I looked at my punk-haired boss halfway through my short shift at my real job and asked, “Am I an asshole?”
    The music was blaring some kind of death-metal-techno crossbreed crap, and of course I had to repeat myself three or four times before she could hear me.
    Kristyn grinned at me from under her locks of pumpkin-orange hair. “Is this an essay question?”
    “Come on, I’m serious.” I stuffed my armload of novelty T-shirts on the appropriate shelf and reached over to turn the music down. “I’m pretty easygoing, right? I don’t fly off the handle for no reason, do I?”
    There was a long pause there, one of those that answered more than her words could. “You’ve . . . had your moments, lately. Why?”
    “Yeah, but . . . general grumpiness aside, do I normally dislike people immediately? I mean, I like to think I give people a chance, y’know?”
    She paused to think that one over, clicking her tongue piercing across her teeth. “Nope. Normally, you are one of the mellowest people I know, old dude.” She tilted her head curiously. “Why?”
    “Just . . . thinking.” I went back to rearranging the novelty wall, and she let it drop. I, on the other hand, couldn’t.
    I pondered on it all the way through a really domestic dinner with my wife and the kids (It was just easier to think of Estéban as ours. It saved time in the long run). I mean, I’m normally an easygoing guy. You don’t bother me, I don’t kick your ass. That kinda thing. But the events of last spring had changed me, and not for the better.
    A guy tried to kill me. That was a given. Two people, actually, though only one of them remained at large. So I suppose I was entitled to a bit of natural wariness. But somewhere along the way, this cynical, borderline paranoid grouch took my place, and he was starting to annoy even me. I was trying to manage it through my usual meditations and katas, but . . . it wasn’t working. So, was my reaction to Cam just a byproduct of post-traumatic stress disorder, or was there really something wrong with the guy? God, I hated not trusting my own instincts.
    Later that night, Mira and I lay in bed together, her head nestled in the crook of my neck where I could smell the strawberry-ness of her hair. Still bogged down in my brooding of the day, I mentioned my less than charitable feelings toward Cam-short-for-Cameron.
    Mira chuckled softly, her breath warm on my chest. “It’s like a new dog in your territory. Go sniff each other’s butts, you’ll be fine.”
    “That’s . . . distinctly unappetizing.” I tilted my head to look down at her and she gave me a grin. “But seriously, you don’t get a weird vibe off of him or anything?”
    She rolled her green eyes. “I don’t scan every person that I run into, Jesse. Next thing I know, you’ll be having Cole run a background check on the guy.” I know my eyes lit up, and when I opened my mouth, she put her hand across it. “No. Do not do that.”
    There was a very disappointed little boy deep inside me. “But it would be cool!”
    That earned me another roll of her eyes. “Leave it alone. This is the first guy Bridge has dated in forever, and I kinda like seeing her happy, okay? Try to get to know him before you call out the dogs.”
    My head flopped back to the pillow and I sighed. “I’m just being a jerk again, aren’t I?”
    “I wasn’t going to say that . . .”
    “You were thinking it.” I rubbed my gritty eyes, trying not to think about all the sleep I would not be getting that night. “Maybe I should skip this trip. Stay home, get some sleep, do some stuff around the house.”
    Mira sat up and looked down at me, her wealth of sable, curly hair falling around my face like a curtain. “Jesse, I’m going to say something, and I want you to understand that it comes from a place of love,