Chill Factor by Sandra Brown Read Free Book Online Page B

uninspired. Blah, blah, blah.
    Lilly had shot down his excuses like ducks in a shooting gallery. He had acknowledged his weaknesses and pledged never to stray again.
    But the first affair was followed by a second. And then another, and soon he’d run out of even lame excuses. Now he realized that it wasn’t his last affair that had spelled the beginning of the end of his marriage. It had been the first. He should have known that a woman like Lilly wouldn’t tolerate unfaithfulness.
    Wes was looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. “There for a time, you know, after Amy, when I was in a bad way, I looked for relief anywhere I could find it, with any woman who would say yes, and there were plenty of them. None of them could replace Lilly, though.”
    â€œBullshit. You just haven’t shopped long enough. Are you getting laid now on a regular basis?”
    â€œWes—”
    â€œOkay, okay, don’t ask, don’t tell. But what woman would look twice at you these days? If you don’t mind my saying so, you look like crap.”
    â€œThat’s what I feel like.”
    â€œRight, and it shows. In your face, the way youwalk. Your butt’s dragging, my friend. You look about as much fun as a case of recurring herpes. That approach isn’t going to attract the kind of woman you need right now.”
    â€œWhat kind is that?”
    â€œThe anti-Lilly. Stay away from brunettes with brown eyes.”
    â€œHazel. Her eyes are really green with brown flecks.”
    With a look, Wes scorned the detailed correction. “Get yourself a bleached blonde. Short, not tall. Big titties and a butt you can hold on to. A gal that’s none too bright, without an opinion of her own except regarding your cock, which she thinks is a fucking magic wand.” Wes was pleased with his description of the perfect female; his entire face was involved in his grin.
    â€œTell you what,” he said, “come over to the house later. We’ll kill a bottle of Jack while considering your options. I’ve got a dirty video or two we can watch. That’ll change your outlook, or you aren’t human. Wha’d’ya say?”
    â€œI’m not supposed to be drinking, remember?”
    â€œRules don’t apply during an ice and snow storm.”
    â€œWho said?”
    â€œI did.”
    It was nearly impossible to resist Wes at his most affable, but Dutch gave it an earnest try. He pushed the Bronco’s gearshift into reverse. “I’ll have both hands full tonight, and then some.”
    â€œCome over,” Wes said, wagging a stern finger at Dutch as he backed away. “I’ll be looking for you.”
    Dutch pulled back into traffic and pointed his Bronco toward the single-story brick building one block off Main Street that housed the police department.
    Before finally being booted out of the Atlanta PD, Dutch had been required to see the department’s psychiatrist twice a week. He’d told Dutch during one of their sessions that he was borderline paranoid. But what was that old joke? Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean everybody still isn’t out to get you.
    He was beginning to think that everybody in the whole damn world had it in for him today.
    When he entered headquarters and saw Mr. and Mrs. Ernie Gunn sitting in the waiting area, that cinched it. He must have a bull’s-eye painted on his back. Lilly, Millicent Gunn’s folks, the people of Cleary, even the weather had conspired to make this the worst day of his life.
    Okay. One of the worst.
    Mrs. Gunn, a rawboned sparrow of a woman on her best day, looked like she hadn’t slept or had a meal since her daughter’s disappearance a week ago. Her small head poked from the collar of her quilted coat like that of a turtle from its shell. As Dutch walked in, she looked at him with naked despair.
    He wasn’t a stranger to that feeling. He empathized, all right.