Injustice for All by J. A. Jance Read Free Book Online Page A

Christmas pajamas had bitten the dust.
    “What are you staring at?” she demanded, one hand on her hip. “Haven’t you ever seen a woman in a robe before?”
    “Sorry. I was thinking about something else.”
    I retired to the bathroom to contemplate my dilemma, finally opting for skiwies and no lights. That, of course, presented another problem. No light in a familiar room is one thing, and no light in a city apartment is another. But no light in a strange room where they’ve never heard of streetlights can be murder on shins, toes, and other unprotected parts of the anatomy. I blundered my way into bed after a bruising game of blindman’s buff.
    Settling into the roll-away, I discovered the bed frame formed a rigid hump directly under the small of my back. It was a long way from the king-sized comfort I had grown accustomed to. At last I concluded the bed wasn’t any worse than some of the rocks I had slept on just for the hell of it during my hunting and camping phase. This at least had a somewhat higher purpose.
    I tossed around a few minutes before dozing off. I had just entered that deep, initial alpha sleep when I heard her say, “Beau?” Adrenaline pumping, I made a dive for the .38 on the floor beside me. The roll-away tipped up on one comer, pitching me headlong onto the floor in a tangle of sheets, pillow, and blankets. Ginger switched on the bedside lamp.
    “What happened?”
    “I fell out of bed, goddammit! What’s wrong? Did you hear something?” “No, I was wondering if you were awake.”
    “I am now,” I grumbled. I didn’t want to get up. The light still blazed while I sat on the floor clad in a discreet loincloth of sheet. I glared at her, and she started to giggle.
    “It’s not funny,” I muttered.
    She nodded, covering her mouth with her hand to contain increasing ripples of laughter. “Yes it is,” she gasped at last. “You ought to see yourself.”
    I looked down. I had to admit that what I could see was pretty funny. The gun had skidded under the bed. No way was I going to crawl around on hands and knees searching for it. With as much dignity as I could muster, I unraveled my legs. At last, wearing the sheet as a toga, I stood on my feet, surveying the debris that had once been a tidy roll-away bed. “This is a very large bed,” Ginger said seriously, stifling her mirth. “It’s probably more comfortable than that thing, too.” That much was inarguable.
    I said nothing. “Care to join me?” “Come on, Ginger. Get serious.”
    “I am serious.” All laughter was gone from her mouth and eyes. “There’s plenty of room,” she added. “We’re consenting adults. We haven’t crossed any state lines.”
    “But you’re the wife of the soon-to-beelected lieutenant governor. ” “The soon-to-be-former wife of the soon-to-beelected lieutenant governor,” she corrected with a hint of a smile. I moved to the far side of the bed and alighted cautiously on the edge of it. I waited for lightning to strike. It didn’t. “Would you like me to call the desk and see if they have any bundling boards?”
    I turned on her. “You’re making fun of me.”
    “I can’t help it.”
    Tentatively I slid first one leg, then the other under the covers, clutching the sheet firmly in one hand as a security blanket. I settled warily on my pillow before I turned to look at her. She sat propped up in bed observing me with undisguised interest.
    The deep neckline of her gown fell away revealing a firm swell of breast. “Do you think I’m beautiful?” she asked gravely. I looked up guiltily, convinced she had caught me peeking. “Of course you’re beautiful. Very beautiful.”
    “Sig used to tell me that. I never knew if I should believe him. ” “My God, Ginger!
    How could you not believe him?” “I still see a drunk when I look in the mirror.”
    It was a comment made without guile. She wasn’t fishing for a compliment: she was attempting to understand, to sort out what was real