Bed of Bones (A Sloane Monroe Novel, Book Five) by Cheryl Bradshaw Read Free Book Online Page B

water in the shower lulled to a stop. “She’s out,” I whispered. “I have to go.”
    “Sloane, wait.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Keep me updated. And please, be careful.”

CHAPTER 11
    The phone rang a full five times before I answered it. Six and it would have gone to voicemail. In the few seconds I sat staring at the name on the caller ID, I couldn’t decide what I wanted to do—talk to him or let him leave a message. He’d just call again. I knew that.
    “Giovanni, I—”
    The phone clicked.
    Maybe he thought I hadn’t answered, or maybe he heard me and decided he had nothing to say. I called back. It rang. No answer, no voicemail, nothing.
    I was still shaken up from our conversation earlier. Part of me wanted to cry, another part of me was relieved. All of me wanted to get off the fence.
    Boo hopped off the bed, teeth clenched, in full growl mode.
    What now?
    “What is it?”
    All four paws scampered toward the front door. I wasn’t in the mood for another unexpected visitor. For the second time tonight, I reached for my gun, even though I had serious doubts about how capable I was of shooting something at this hour.
    Boo’s paws were pressed against the front door when I got to it, furiously trying to claw through to the other side. I looked through the peephole and sighed. I’d seen enough of the Luciana family for one day.
    “It’s almost midnight, Carlo,” I said through the door. I yawned. “Can it wait until morning?”
    “No. Open the door. And put the gun down.”
    He spoke with confidence, as if he knew the pistol was aimed right at him. He was right.
    It was. I swept Boo off the ground and stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind me. In a lowered voice, I said, “I can’t talk to you here. Not right now.”
    “Why are you whispering?” he asked. “Don’t you live alone?”
    “Yes, but—”
    He raised a brow. “You don’t want me in your house. Why?”
    “I just have someone—”
    Carlo swung his arm around me, thrust the front door open, and stepped inside. “Who’s here? Show yourself.”
    I grappled for his arm and missed. He forged ahead.
    “It’s not what you think,” I said. “If you could just listen to me, I can explain—”
    He flicked his wrist, disregarding my words. “Are you seeing someone else? Is that what’s been going on the last few months? You’re stepping out on my brother?”
    “I’d never…let me explain. Outside.”
    Too late.
    Shelby rounded the corner, her hair damp and unbrushed, her body covered in nothing but a polka-dotted push-up bra and panties. “Well, hello to you.” She flaunted a seductive grin. He quickly looked away.
    “Who’s this?” Shelby asked. “Friend of yours? Boyfriend? Is this the guy you ditched my dad for?”
    “Her what?” Carlo asked.
    I glared at Shelby.
    “He’s no one.” I pushed my hand to Carlo’s chest, steering him backward. “He was just leaving. Put some clothes on.”
    “Why? I’m not naked.”
    “This isn’t the beach. Your attire isn’t appropriate for company.”
    “My attire isn’t appropriate ,” she mocked. “You’re funny.”
    Carlo brushed past me—again. “Who’s your father, and who are you?”
    “Her name is Shelby,” I replied, “And she was just going back to bed.”
    “No, I wasn’t,” she spat.
    I shot a snarky glance in her direction. “Carlo is in the FBI.” I paused, allowing the magnitude of his profession to sink in, and then followed up with, “Now go call your father like we agreed and watch him for me while I step outside.”
    I set Lord Berkeley on the floor.
    When the horrified look in her eyes abated, she spun around, Boo in hand, and without another word, swayed her butt cheeks from left to right, prancing back to the guest room. I could only imagine what it was like to parent her full-time.
    Carlo followed me outside. “Are you going to tell me who her father is? Who she is?”
    “Who he or she is isn’t important right now.”
    “It is to