Cassidy Jones and the Seventh Attendant (Cassidy Jones Adventures, Book Three) by Elise Stokes Read Free Book Online Page A

both laughing so hard we could barely catch our breath. Though honestly I don’t know what was so funny about nearly smothering him to death. “I’m glad we’re friends again,” I told him between laughs.
    “Me, too, crazy girl,” he said, relaxing into the sofa. He ran a finger along the rim of his eye to wipe away the moisture laughter had produced. “It’s on the back of his right shoulder.”
    “Huh?”
    “Emery’s tat.”
    “His shoulder?” I turned to Jared eagerly.
    “Yeah. Don’t ask me what the big deal is. With all the secrecy, you’d think it was on a lower region.”
    “Emery is all about secrecy.” I knew I sounded bitter.
    Jared didn’t comment, though he was no doubt mulling over my statement, examining it from all angles, theorizing different meanings, and then stashing it away in some compartment in his brain to study again later. I knew how Jared processed. Curling forward, I did some processing of my own.
    “Of course. The locker room,” I said a moment later. “That’s how you all know about Emery’s tattoo.” The realization made me feel a little better. Emery was not showing off his tattoo to everybody but me, like I had originally thought. “What’s it of?”
    “I don’t know. It’s a blue circle.”
    “A knotwork circle?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Huh.” I visualized the tattoo on Mickey the bounty hunter’s arm: an aqua knotwork circle with a dragon blasting fire at it. Why does Emery have the same tattoo?
    “What does Emery’s dad do for a living?” Jared asked out of the blue.
    “He’s an accountant,” I said, repeating what I had been told. I didn’t see the harm in doing so, since it was probably a lie anyway.
    “An accountant?” Jared laughed. “Don’t think so. Look at the dude. He’s a mercenary or something.”
    Excitement swirled in my chest, and it really shouldn’t have. I needed to get Jared off of this train of thought, but not until I found out . . . “What exactly is a mercenary?”
    “You know, a soldier for hire, working for a foreign government, or—”
    “A hit man!”
    He looked at me hard. “Do you think Emery’s dad is a hit man?”
    I shook my head, though that was exactly what I had thought, until today that is. “No. No, I don’t,” I said with genuine conviction. “I’m just agreeing with you. Emery’s dad is hardly the stereotypical accountant. You just don’t think of an accountant being—”
    “A brute?” Jared offered with a devilish smile.
    “A brute? No, not a brute. Though he does look like one. But that doesn’t mean anything. Looks can be deceiving. Okay, I admit, I had my doubts about the accountant thing, too, which was totally judgmental of me. So he doesn’t fit the accountant image . But who says accountants can only crunch numbers? It’s not like a law or something. Furthermore—”
    “I’m going to keep talking in circles,” Jared interrupted, mimicking my voice with a grin, “until I convince myself Emery’s dad wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
    Impulsively, I swatted him with his gift, surprising him as much as I surprised myself. That would have been my reaction to Nate or Emery.
    Jared busted up. “Guess we really are friends again.”
    “You doubted it?” I whacked him with the book a second time, in case there were any lingering doubts.

 
    Five
    Betrayal
     
     
     
     
    When the “inner circle” finally emerged from Dad’s office, my parents brought us kids up to speed about Arthur King Jr.’s escape, reiterating over and over that there was nothing to worry about. Having had firsthand experience with the maniac, I begged to differ, but refrained from doing so until later that night with Emery.
    At the stroke of midnight, I slipped my pathetic attempt of a poem about Jared into my nightstand drawer. The opening line: Your eyes are like pools of chocolate —in case there were any doubts about it being bad. Well, his eyes are like pools of chocolate , I defended myself to myself, as I