Broken Heart 05 Over My Dead Body by Michele Bardsley Read Free Book Online Page A

to let go of my guilt. Then I learned not so much to let go, but to bury it. What I’d done was still there, shiny and sharp just below the surface. Waiting for me to dig, waiting for me to cut myself and bleed out.
    “I’m sorry.” I meant the words, though I fought the urge to lay a consoling hand on his shoulder. We might both have painful pasts, but that didn’t mean I trusted him. “Y’all have suffered so much, Reiner.”
    “You have no idea.” His gaze flicked to mine. “Or maybe you do.”

Chapter 6
    “I see the shadows in your eyes, Simone. You think your smile can hide them, but no, nothing can ever hide that pain—not from someone who understands it.”
    “Let’s not pretend we understand anything about each other,” I said. “You’ve got your woes, and I’ve got mine.”
    “We are not so different.”
    “Yeah,” I said softly. “We are.”
    Reiner inclined his head, an acknowledgment or a denial—I didn’t know which.
    “You will help me make the statue work?” he asked.
    I wasn’t sure agreeing to spend any more time in his presence was a wise thing to do. But I liked his idea, and I knew I could figure out how to get that staff to rise—clockwork parts, maybe—and that moon to glow blue. “A week isn’t a lot of time. The festival’s on Saturday.”
    “I have the parts already crafted. It is only a matter of putting them together and getting them to work.”
    “Okay,” I said. “Come by on Monday around eleven p.m. and we’ll get started.”
    Reiner grinned. “I look forward to working with you, Simone.”
    I wish I could’ve said the same about him. Instead, I just stuck my hands into my pockets and gave him my best Pollyanna smile. He looked at me an instant longer than necessary; then he left the garage, whistling.
    I felt the tension drain from my shoulders. It was probably stupid to work with a man who caused such contentious feelings. I couldn’t point to one single thing he’d actually done to make me not like him. It’s just that my instincts were a-buzzin’ again—and I intended to proceed with caution.
    I looked at the cracked post sitting on my worktable. I really wanted to get started on it, especially since half the night was already gone. I wasn’t sure Darlene still expected me, and if she was, too bad. I got out my cell phone, dialed the Consortium’s headquarters, and asked for the plumber on call.
    “That’s Dunmore,” said Arin. He was a nice older lycan who knew just about everything and had it all organized, color-coded, and filed. “He just moved into town a couple weeks ago all the way from England. He’s a lycan.”
    “As long as he can fix water leaks, I don’t care if he’s the pope.”
    Arin laughed, said good-bye, and transferred me. The phone rang a couple of times, and then a brash English voice offered, “Dunmore’s the name, plumbin’s the game.”
    “I’m Simone. I run the garage on Main Street.”
    “I know you. You need me to come round and fix your pipes, love?”
    “Uh, no. But Darlene Clark sure does. Did she call you?”
    “No. Give me the address. I’ll go on over and see what I can do.”
    I told him how to get to Darlene’s house, and then hit END. One problem solved; a million to go.
    I leaned over the table and patted the shiny black pole. “It’s just you and me, buddy. And it’s time for the autopsy.”
    I traced the jagged burn. I had no idea what had caused the damage. It was as if it had been zapped. Lightning? That made no sense. Magic. I knew the Family Ruadan had some ability to create orbs and other objects from fairy magic. But I’d never seen anyone, not even an Ancient, just . . . kapow something. I peered down the broken top. The light I’d seen on my first examination was still there, but much fainter. So was the buzzing noise.
    I didn’t want to split it open or cut it in half. It might be possible to save the internal electronics, either to build another Invisi-shield pole or some