Playing Dead by Allison Brennan Read Free Book Online Page A

and that’s why she felt so miserable much of the time. She wanted to hate him. She wanted to hit him, yell at him, throw things at him for killing her mom, for ruining their lives. Making her sit through a public trial for weeks, through his sentencing. It had been the worst time of her life. From the minute she saw her mother’s dead body, and knew her dad had shot her, to when he was sentenced to die, it had been hell.
    Guilt twisted in Claire’s heart. She’d spent more time over the last fifteen years trying to hate her father for his crimes than mourning her mother’s death. She’d been so angry with her mom about the affair, furious that she could be so selfish as to hurt the family. And then she was gone. Claire never had the chance to talk with, argue with, love, or hate her mother. It was so much easier to focus on the trial and hating her dad than it was to focus on the pain and guilt over her mother’s murder and remembering every fight, every disagreement she and her mother had shared. She wanted to go back and tell her mother she loved her.
    A part of Claire wanted Maddox to be right. She had believed for so long that her father was a killer, but she never stopped loving him, even when she wanted so much to hate. It had made his crimes that much harder to accept, and transformed her love into confusion and misery.
    The only really good thing in her life right now was Mitch Bianchi. She’d been moving from guy to guy for so long without any commitment that having someone sort of steady was nice. More than nice. He was the sexiest, safest guy she’d ever dated. A writer, perfect. She didn’t want to think about her long history with other underachieving men. She shrugged it off whenever Dave Kamanski teased her about the “dumb blonds” she dated: good-looking men who didn’t tax themselves mentally, often not holding down regular or “normal” jobs.
    Mitch was different. He was surprisingly smart. He didn’t seem like she’d imagine a writer to be, but he did have a way with words. And he was so hot, so sexy, his body hard as a rock. He worked out, and they had spent many hours together playing racquetball on the weekends. He didn’t let her win and he played hard.
    And damn, he looked doubly hot when he sweated in his cutoffs and faded T-shirt.
    Chewy and Yoda liked him. Funnily enough, that made Claire a little less comfortable. She was growing attached to Mitch, and she didn’t want to get close to anyone. Her life was a mess. She was a mess. But she didn’t want to get rid of him, either.
    There was no way she was dragging Mitch into this situation. She didn’t want him being charged as an accessory or harassed by the FBI. She was going to have to figure out what to do about her father’s contact on her own. She didn’t believe her dad, but she wondered if he had actually convinced himself he was innocent. Or maybe . . . he was.
    Her stomach churned, the latte turning sour. What would it hurt to talk to Oliver Maddox again? Find out exactly what he’d been feeding her father? Maybe then she could convince her dad to turn himself in. She didn’t want him gunned down or arrested in a big standoff. She was tough, she’d withstand the media scrutiny, the way her life would be turned upside down like it had been after the prison break. She’d avoided more reporters than cops that awful week in January . . .
    She didn’t want him to die. Not like that.
    What do you want? Him to die by lethal injection? Does that make it better?
    She had time before she had to meet her vet. As always, Claire’s curiosity bested her. She tried the private phone number Oliver Maddox had left her four months before. Voice mail picked up.
    “Mailbox is full. Please try your call again later.”
    The Port of Sacramento was halfway between the Rogan-Caruso offices downtown and UC Davis. She might as well head to the university and try to track down the law student. Maybe find out that he was no longer a law