Sixth Grave on the Edge by Darynda Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

beautifully your plans work when each and every one goes awry, including the one that left you stranded on a deserted bridge with a man who had every intention of burning you alive.”
    He did not just bring that up. “You’re still mad at me about that?” When he only glared at me, his eyes shimmering in the low light, I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. “That wasn’t a plan. That was a surprise attack. And I told you, I tried to summon you. I couldn’t. I was concussed.” I pointed to my head to demonstrate. Not with my pinkie, though.
    He was in front of me at once, the animal inside him rearing reflexively, and kept going until I’d backed into the cabinets and could go no farther. Bracing his hands on the countertop on either side of me, he moved even closer, his heat spiraling in blistering waves around me. “You can summon me whenever you desire,” he said, his warm breath at my ear, brushing down my neck. “I am but a thought away.”
    “Are you saying I didn’t summon you on purpose?”
    He leaned back to look at me. “You tell me.”
    “I thought you had to go to work.”
    He bit down again before checking his watch. “I mean it. Nothing until we can come up with a better plan. Promise me.”
    “I promise. Geez.” He was so untrusting.
    *   *   *
    First things first. I hunted down my phone and dialed Uncle Bob.
    “Hey, pumpkin,” he said, clearly in a good mood.
    I was about to change that. “I need you to come over tonight.”
    “Sure thing. What’s up?”
    “Dad.”
    “He’s there?” he asked, seeming surprised.
    “No, but Denise came to see me. She is under the impression Dad isn’t going on a trip into the wild blue yonder. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
    “Not really.” He paused a long moment, then added, “But I’ve suspected.”
    “You’ve suspected what?” I asked in alarm. “What’s going on?”
    “I have a meeting in two. We’ll talk about it when I get there. What time do you want me over?”
    While I wanted him over right then and there—this was my dad we were talking about—I had to consider the plan Cookie and I—mostly I—had dreamed up to get Ubie to ask her out. Honestly, it was like pulling teeth with this guy. “Around six?” That should give Cookie enough time to get ready and her date enough time to get over from the West Side. He had to work until five, so … “Yeah, six will work.”
    “That’ll work for me, too. Do you want dinner? I can pick something up.”
    Though I should have felt at least a twinge of guilt—I was setting him up, after all—I couldn’t quite manage it. The setup, or as I liked to call it, the Get Cookie Laid Plan, was a necessary evil. Uncle Bob was usually so confident, so straightforward, but throw Cookie into the mix, and he became a spineless wiener. Not that wieners had spines to begin with, but really. It was Cookie. Our Cookie! What was she going to do? Bite him?
    Okay, that was a strong possibility, but that’d come after the fruits of our endeavor had been delivered. Cookie could be sassy like that.
    “Sweet,” I said, astounded at my acting skills. I should’ve gone to Hollywood when I had the chance, but when that old man offered to take me that one time at an abandoned gas station in the middle of nowhere, I wasn’t sure I could trust him. Mostly because he had rope, duct tape, and lots of condoms in his backseat. Still, I’ll never know what could have come of it. How far I could have risen. C’est la vie. “I love it when you buy dinner. How about Italian from that really expensive place that I never go to because it’s too expensive?”
    He chuckled. “Can do. Would you just like me to order the most expensive thing on the menu?”
    “Duh. See ya then.” Right before I hung up, I said, “And don’t be late!”
    “Please. It’s Robert Davidson you’re talking to.”
    Who was Robert again? Oh, right. That always threw me. “Fine, Robert,