Red Heart Tattoo by Lurlene McDaniel Read Free Book Online Page A

“The fireworks business is old news. Give it a rest.”
    “Digging up dirt takes time.”
    He searched her face, managed a beguiling smile. “And you don’t have anything better to do than dig around in old dirt?”
    She knew with the next beat of her heart that heabsolutely had pulled the prank. She pressed hard into the wall to put space between them. Her pulse was racing. “I don’t think what you did was funny. And I can still report you.” If her threat bothered him, he didn’t let it show.
    “So now you’re judge and jury? You say I’m guilty, so I am? Where’s your proof?”
    He had her there. She had no real proof, just rumors. “Your stunt was a bad joke. And in case you missed it, no one laughed.”
    “So what does make you laugh, Morgan Frierson?” He leaned so close that his full mouth hovered inches from her own. His hair was damp, as if he’d just come from the gym showers.
    An emotion unrelated to anger or fear shot through her, making her knees go weak. She said, “Back off.”
    Slowly he straightened, dropped his arms loosely to his sides, flashed a smile. “I don’t want a fight with you, Morgan. Can’t we agree to forget ancient history?”
    She glanced downward, not wanting to meet his eyes. She let out a breath and fought to regain her composure. At the moment a vendetta against him seemed futile and childish. Too much time had elapsed. What was she going to do, rat to the principal and the cops at this late date? “If anything like that happens again, I will nail you to a wall.”
    Looking unruffled by her threat, he inclined his head graciously. “I accept your terms.”
    His cavalier attitude only made her angry again. “Go away,” she said.
    He glanced down at the posters she’d dropped whenhe’d captured her. He bent to pick them up. “Want me to help you put up the rest of these?”
    “I don’t need your help.”
    “Well, I asked,” he said, shrugging. “I volunteered to help my president. Put it in the record.” He stepped backward. “Later,” he said.
    Never
, she thought.
    As he handed her the posters, she saw that his black hoodie was only partially zipped. No shirt beneath it. On the area between his collarbones, she read a single word tattooed in blue ink into his skin.
    Wicked
.

R oth banged on Liza’s front door.
    She opened the door, looked surprised to see him.
    “You going to invite me in?”
    He looked cross. She stepped aside, letting him pass. Her home was in its usual state of disarray. Both her parents worked and neither one seemed to care about housework, at least not to the naked eye. “My room,” she said, leading him to a familiar destination. Her room was in no better shape than the rest of the house. The bed was littered with abandoned clothes. Roth sat on the floor, his back braced by the bed.
    He hadn’t been around in weeks and Liza had missed him. She settled cross-legged in front of him. “So what’s up?”
    “Had a run-in with our school president on Friday. She was putting up homecoming posters.”
    Liza’s radar went up. “How nice for you. Did it make your day?”
    “Not so nice,” he said.
    “Are you asking me to the big dance?” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.
    “You know I don’t go for that crap.”
    “And yet you’ve mentioned it to little ol’ me.”
    “Knock it off, Liza. I mentioned it because Morgan and I had a little talk.”
    Liza raised her knees, locked her arms around them. “Again, how nice for you.”
    Roth ignored her sour tone. “She accused me of the fireworks prank. Said she heard a rumor about me doing it.”
    “So?”
    “So you were the only person I told. How did she hear about it?”
    Liza’s face reddened. “I have no idea.”
    He leaned forward. “Come on. You had to have been the source.”
    She shrugged, capitulated. “Sue me.”
    “Why?” he asked. “Why did you say anything to anyone? It was my secret and I shared it with you only. Nobody else had a clue it was