Bloodfire by John Lutz Read Free Book Online Page A

Atlanta, you didn’t have an old one.”
    True enough. Give her a point.
    “What is it,” she asked, “top secret, you don’t wanna talk about it?”
    “Nothing like that,” he said, straight-faced. Irritated. Maybe he was into something he shouldn’t talk about, even with her. It had happened before.
    But always he’d talked with her anyway.
    Not this time, though. “There’s not that much to it,” he said. “And it’s probably already over.”
    She paced some more. Sipped some more. Though the house had been tightly sealed for days, the scent of the sea had permeated it. The air felt damp and dense enough to clutch by the handful. The thermostat clicked and the air conditioner hummed to life. “Staying here tonight?”
    He said, “I don’t think so. If what I’m working on isn’t really over, it might not be a good idea for me to be around.”
    She sort of sneered. “Always there’s fucking danger in your job. So melodramatic.” She was close to losing it. He didn’t want to do battle tonight.
    “There are melodramatic actors out there who play for real with guns and matches.”
    Her shoulders sagged. She wasn’t up to a fight, either. Not at the moment, anyway. Good. “Yeah, I guess there are. Real estate’s a saner business.”
    “For saner people.”
    “Or people crazy in a different way.” She finished her drink and began carrying the empty glass toward the kitchen. Such an elegant walk, even in jeans and sandals. He marveled at it. Is that why he was drawn to her? He was a cripple and she covered ground like a dancer?
    “Wanna keep me company while I wolf down a microwaved dinner?” she asked.
    He said, “Let’s drive someplace. I’ll keep you company while you eat real food.”
    She let out a long breath, finally relaxing, even if not completely. She smiled and said, “Okay, that’s a much better idea.”
    Truce.
    Temporarily.

7
    C ARVER WOKE THE NEXT morning to the sounds of the sea, and of Edwina breathing beside him. It was like one sound. The sun had barely risen and the breeze pushing in through the open window was cool on his bare leg sticking out from beneath the thin white sheet. Edwina had worked her way completely out from beneath the sheet and was sprawled on her back with one arm slung loosely across her eyes, as if shielding them from the sun. The air conditioner hadn’t kicked in yet, and other than the rhythmic rush of ocean and breathing, the only noise in the room was the gentle ticking of the revolving ceiling fan.
    Carver’s nose and left cheek were mashed into the pillow. He turned his head, which made his neck ache. Carefully, he rolled onto his side. He studied Edwina’s nude form touched by the morning light. Picked up the subtle stale scent of last night’s sex and felt something move deep in the core of him. She sighed and dropped her arms to her sides, didn’t wake up.
    He thought about last night, after Edwina’s supper and several drinks at the restaurant bar. The rustle of perspiration-soaked sheets and warm flesh. Her moans. The headboard banging out its primal rhythm against the wall. They were still capable of lust, but he knew last night wasn’t any kind of resolution other than physical. They could continue to rut even as their hearts drifted further apart—if they so chose. And sooner or later neither of them would choose that kind of sex, the kind that meant nothing more than temporary satisfaction; the train to nowhere.
    Carver stretched his arm and groped around on the carpet until he found his cane half under the bed. He used it to help him sit up on the edge of the mattress. The singing of the bedsprings didn’t affect Edwina. She was sleeping deeply.
    He limped into the bathroom and started the shower, adjusting the taps until the water was lukewarm. After leaning his cane against the tile wall, he held on to the towel rack and stepped beneath the stinging needles of spray. Thinking how nice it would be if the water roaring through