Steele Resolve (The Detective Jasmine Steele Series Book 1) by Kimberly Amato Read Free Book Online Page B

take a gulp of brandy this time. The burning in my chest reminding me I’m alive and dealing with the here and now.
    “I doubt the cemetery has a hotel on the premises. She’s dead, try again.”
    “Aren’t we all,” I say before my mind blocks it. I take a long swig of the brandy and try to focus on the glass in my hand. I peer through my eyebrows and see Victor watching me.
    “You have to deal with it eventually, Jasmine. You can’t keep hiding behind that façade for much longer.”
    “I’ve got Chase. We’re cool,” I lie. We’re not cool, but I don’t air my dirty laundry if I can help it.
    “You haven’t been cool since we were in our twenties,” he drains the rest of the glass before pouring another one. He leans over and fills my glass to the top again.
    “College wasn’t what it could have been. It was… harder than I anticipated,” I fight the emotion filling me from the toes up.
    “No one expected her to die,” the sincerity in his voice causes me to crack a little.
    “I did. You can deny it all you want, Victor. We watched her give up. We all let her do it. Simple as that,” my voice cracks as a few tears spring free from my eyes. Quickly wiping them away, I look anywhere but the man in front of me. This is not how I wanted my day to go.
    “Jazz, we’ve known each other for a long time. I know when you’re full of shit,” his eyes stay firmly planted on me. He can see right through my lies, but not as easily as Frankie. Most of the time I let him think he’s right even if he’s way off base. Today though, he’s right on target.
    “And I know when you’re trying to get me to admit shit. Victor, Mom died. It sucks. I miss her, but she’s dead and there’s nothing I can do about it, so let’s move on,” I drink again. Normally I don’t indulge this much, but I need to feel something, anything and the burning liquid does just that.
    His eyes never leave me, but he stands there speechless. He’s not used to having me give him information without him needing a crow bar. He nods at me as if thinking of his next chess move. I meant what I said, but I think I took him off guard. We never really talk about mom. He asks, but I ignore the questions. Victor was there for all of it, the age, the pain and the lack of desire to live. I can still see her face looking up at the ceiling, empty.
    At eighty years old, she would just lie in bed and drift away mentally. It used to be books or a long hot bath, but eventually I just lost her to nothingness. I would beg and plead for her to get up, but she chose not to. She wasn’t sick. She wasn’t terminal. She just had no desire to live, not for me, not for Chase, not for herself. So one day I tried to bring her coffee and her body was ice cold. Hell has a way of creeping into your pretty world and smashing it all to bits. One day I had a mother and the next I was a mother. Hell has burned me and continues to fry me every chance it gets.
    “Have you moved on?” My heart screams no but my mouth answers, “Have you from your nasty ex?”
    “Why do you answer everything I ask with a question?” His shoulders pull back in a defensive position and I know I’m pushing all the wrong buttons, but I don’t stop. “Because it pisses you off,” I reply harshly.
    “Jazz, you’re an asshole sometimes,” he downs his drink and walks over to the sink.
    “I’ve been called worse.”
    “Usually by me,” his back remains to me as he cleans the glass. He’s being overly methodical and I don’t know if it’s because he’s really hurt or sizing me up. “Nice necklace,” he throws at me.
    I’m sure the confusion on my face is clear as day. I fumble around my neckline until I touch the familiar gold cross on a chain.
    “I see you still wear it.”
    “Every day. You know that.” I’m getting fidgety and play with the glass in my hand. It’s almost empty, like everything else around me. Victor was right; this is not a conversation I want to