Limitless by Robert J. Crane Read Free Book Online

chastened. “Did you kill her?”
    “I think I’ll need something a bit… stronger for that, don’t you?” Philip asked. He bared a smile. “Besides, I don’t think it’s her time. At least… not yet.”

Chapter 11
    I probably looked like hell, but I didn’t care. I sat with my legs exposed, hanging out the side of Webster’s car. My boots reached up to mid-calf, partially shredded at the top, long-sleeved jacket covering my upper body, arms folded across my midsection. If I took my jacket off, I’d probably look a little like the palest cowgirl at the rodeo because my jeans were now cut-offs. And I really didn’t have the thighs for that.
    I watched the police swarming all over the place with their distinctive yellow vests and funny hats. I looked at their belts as they passed back and forth and saw nothing but those batons and some pepper spray. I studied them through slitted eyes, like a huntress watching prey. I had the “Don’t talk to me” vibe in full effect, though at least part of that was motivated by a deep desire for a nap.
    They are all of them prey , Wolfe’s voice said in my head.
    I didn’t bother agreeing with him. When you feed a stray animal, you just encourage it to come back for more.
    Besides, sadly, in this instance, I couldn’t find fault with his opinion.
    Webster was milling around, bouncing back and forth between conversations with a few other plainclothes officers on the scene. One of them came up to him and greeted him with a smile. This guy was a little over the weight limit, if you know what I mean. His stomach over hung his belt by a couple inches. He looked young, like late twenties, similar in age to Webster, and when I saw the grin from the DI that indicated familiarity, I could tell even from fifty feet away that theirs was more than a casual acquaintance.
    So I listened in. Because I can do that. Powers, you know.
    “Can’t believe the carnage in there,” the big guy said to Webster. “An actual bomb?”
    “It was,” Webster said with a sharp nod. “Took her bloody leg right off.”
    The big guy glanced over at me and I looked away. “She looks all right now. Fit, even. Very fit, actually. Bit chunky ’round the thighs and trunk, but not bad.” Just the way he said it, with drool running over the words, left me with little doubt about what fit meant to him. “Is she the one—”
    “Yes,” Webster cut him off. “She’s the one from the news.”
    “I saw her on that interview from the American network, talking about powers and people and all that. It’s all a bit mad, innit?”
    Webster’s reaction was not so subtle. “I’ve just seen her get a foot blown off and watched it grow back in seconds. Mad is not quite the right word, Dylan.”
    “Bloody hell,” Dylan said, and I watched the blood drain from his face. “Like, grown from a stump?”
    “Like magic,” Webster said. “Bone stretching out, muscle and skin coming back, like watching a time-lapse video.”
    “I should get her to talk to my brother,” Dylan said, pensive. “He’s a git. Lives in council housing on account of losing his leg to a train—”
    “I don’t think she can teach your brother to grow a new leg,” Webster said with a hint of impatience.
    “I look at her like that, I can just about feel one growing on me—”
    What. A. Pig.
    “Oh, God,” Webster said, turning his back so I couldn’t see his expression. “Will you just leave it out?” It was at this point I got up and started toward them.
    “Oh, honestly, mate, don’t get so worked up. She’s just a piece of arse—”
    I arrived a second later, to the surprise of Dylan, whose mouth gaped open at my sudden blur of speed. “The only piece of ass I see around here is a hole, and it’s you,” I said.
    “Bollocks, you heard that?” Webster asked, turning to me incredulously.
    “Uh, yeah. It’d be hard to miss Sir Bacon Fatback here calling me ‘very fit’ and talking about how his little twig is