Dirty Deeds by Sheri Lewis Wohl Read Free Book Online Page B

all, he was the good son, the one who always did the right thing. Jamie was the perpetual screw-up, the one who could never get anything right.
    Yet, when he'd disconnected the call to his mother, it hit him how protected Jamie was by both of his parents as though he was a sick child who needed their tender care. That it hurt Paul really was a shock. The night had been full of surprises, and so far not a single one good.
    Once he'd talked to Louie and given her the information on Kendall, he'd fully intended to leave the arena and go home. Somewhere between the two places, he changed his mind. He was curious. He'd wanted to the see the woman who loved his brother despite his many faults. Paul was the one who earned it all: success, admiration, respect. Everything except for love. Jamie, who couldn't tie his shoes right, was the one who managed to not only find love but keep it alive for years. The irony wasn't lost on Paul. So, the next thing he knew, he was standing in Kendall's kitchen and Louie was pointing a gun at the middle of his chest.
    Right now, about the last thing he felt like doing was sitting around drinking coffee. He went along with Louie because he didn't know what else to do. At the house, he'd been reluctant to leave. He just didn't think leaving the scene of a murder was a good idea. He still wasn't convinced, although he admitted Louie made a fairly good argument that waiting around for the police was a pretty bad idea. She was also true to her word, and called one of her friends on the police force not long after they left the house. At least it made him feel a little less like a criminal. Little being the operative word.
    If running away before the police arrived wasn't bad enough, Paul had never seen a dead body before. His stomach still rolled when he thought about the pretty young girl and the dark, red blood around her body. It was nothing like television and movies portrayed it. To call it surreal was an understatement. He hoped he never encountered anything like it again and if he did, he hoped to be better armed than with his favorite hockey stick. The sight of Paul and his stick might make goalies quake in their skates, but he doubted he or the stick, would be very effective against, say, a nine-millimeter Smith and Wesson or perhaps a Colt 38.
    He picked up the heavy brown mug and sipped scalding hot coffee. Terrible didn't begin to describe the taste and even worse, it burned his tongue. What he really needed was a beer or better yet, a nice stiff whiskey. Anything to dull the memory of that poor girl sprawled on the kitchen floor, surrounded by a bloody halo. Yeah, some big macho guy I am .
    He looked up to see Louie studying him, her eyes narrowed and her mouth a thin line. "You haven't seen anything like that before, have you?" she asked.
    Great, now she was reading his mind. There were a couple of options available as far as he could see. He could lie and try to sound tough. Or, he could 'fess up and be honest. Option two seemed better. Death wasn't his business and trying to pretend otherwise was stupid. Besides, he didn't feel the need to lie to her. There was something about Louie that made him want to trust her.
    The truth was simple. "No."
    A sad smile crossed her face and, as odd as it was given their circumstances, it occurred to him she was really quite beautiful. Auburn hair curled around her face, and her skin was pale and flawless. She didn't wear makeup or if she did, it was so light as to not show.
    She was in a tough field where nerves of steel and unflinching determination weren't optional. The job could easily harden a person both physically and mentally. He didn't see it in her. She was a dichotomy: tough as nails on one side, gentle and understanding on the other, although he suspected she'd argue about the latter. Reputations after all, were everything—something he knew from personal experience.
    Louie looked down at the coffee mug she held between her hands. "I'd like