Death, Taxes, and Cheap Sunglasses (A Tara Holloway Novel Book 8) by Diane Kelly Read Free Book Online Page A

damnedest to fight back the tears, several spilled down her cheeks nonetheless.
    “Look, Mom,” Nick said softly, putting a hand on her back. “I gave Tara a secret phone. I’ll check in with her when I can, let her know I’m okay. She’ll pass that information on to you.”
    Bonnie turned to me. “You call me immediately when you hear from Nick, okay? No matter what time of day or night it is.”
    “I will.”
    She gave her son one last hug, clutching him so tight it was a wonder he could take in oxygen. “I love you, son.”
    “Right back at ya’, Mom.”
    I drove Nick over to the DEA office, pulling up to the curb near the front doors. “Get out.”
    “That’s a fine good-bye.”
    I said it again, this time through a fresh stream of mascara-tinted tears. Two days in a row the guy had ruined my makeup. “Get out.” My chest heaved with barely contained sobs. “And … come back.”
    Nick tilted his head and cupped my face, rubbing his thumb back and forth across my cheekbone like a windshield wiper to remove the moisture. “I’m going to remember you just like this.”
    I shook my head. “Don’t remember me like this. Remember how I looked on New Year’s.” I’d worn a fabulous, shimmery gold gown. Of course Nick had been so jet-lagged from working two international cases that he’d slept right through the midnight countdown.
    “That’s a better idea,” he replied. “You’re kinda gooey right now.”
    I narrowed my eyes at Nick, grabbed a napkin from my console, and wiped my eyes and nose.
    “That’s okay.” He leaned in and pulled me toward him. “I’m not afraid of a little goo.”
    We held each other for a long moment and I thought my heart would explode in my chest.
    “I love you,” he said into my hair.
    “I love you, too,” I mumbled into his warm neck. Maybe too much. Love was a double-edged sword. It could make a person happier than they’d ever been, but it could fill them with pure, raw misery, too.
    He finally released me. “I’ll be in touch.”
    Despite my best efforts to hold it in, a fresh sob escaped me. “You better.”

 
    chapter six
    W elcome to Paradise
    Later that morning, Eddie and I loaded into my G-ride and headed southeast out of Dallas.
    I glanced over at Eddie. “Remember the last time we came out this way?”
    He gave a mirthless snort. “I remember coming out here,” he said. “But I don’t remember coming back.”
    He’d been unconscious and riding in a medical helicopter on his return. We’d tracked our target, a con artist running an investment scam, down to a lake house. Unfortunately, the creep had turned his gun on me and Eddie and put a bullet in my partner’s skull, taking part of his earlobe with it. I’d suffered a broken arm when I’d leaped out a window to avoid being shot.
    Good times.
    Our targets today were Quent and Kevin Kuykendahl, a couple of cousins operating an alleged animal sanctuary known as Paradise Park. Whether the two were running a legitimate wildlife sanctuary or something else remained to be seen. I only hoped Eddie and I would have better luck extracting information from the Kuykendahl cousins than we’d had with Sharla Fowler the day before. I had to admit I was curious, not only about the place, but about the two men running it. The auditor had described them in her notes as Charles Manson look-alikes.
    The clouds broke on the drive, the sun shining through and reflecting off the moisture on the roads, creating a blinding glare that fried my retinas.
    “I need to make a quick stop.” I whipped into a gas station and, while Eddie waited in the car, ran inside to buy a cheap pair of shades to replace the pair I’d lost at the barbecue joint the night before. The pickings were slim. I tried on several pairs, eyeing myself in the tiny mirror at the top of the revolving display, before settling for a mirrored aviator-style pair that, even at $4.99, seemed overpriced given how flimsy they were.
    “I’ll take