The Dying Game by Beverly Barton Read Free Book Online

stairs of her sister’s apartment building.
    “Is there anything in particular you want to eat?” Griff asked as he laid his overcoat and silk scarf on an empty chair.
    “Anything will be fine,” she replied.
    Nic and Griff were able to go through the line rather quickly, getting coffee for themselves and a meal for Barbara Jean. No way was she leaving Gale Ann’s sister alone with him. Legally, she could not prevent him from talking to Barbara Jean or offering her his big broad shoulders to lean on; the best she could do was keep a close watch on the woman. Griff handed the cashier a hundred dollar bill. The biggest bill in Nic’s wallet was a twenty. The difference between being rich and simply having a good job.
    After slipping the change into his wallet, Griff lifted the tray laden with a full meal, dessert, and three cups of coffee, and carried it to the back table where Barbara Jean waited for them. After removing the plates, silverware, and cups from the tray, he placed it on a nearby empty table, then he pulled out a chair and offered it to Nic. She forced another fake smile—God, her face was going to crack—and allowed him to assist her.
    Charming. Gentlemanly. Infuriating SOB.
    Their gazes met for half a second, a confrontational exchange. Hostility simmered just below the surface, a reality neither of them could deny. Nic suspected that Griff disliked her as much as she did him, both professionally and personally.
    Barbara Jean eyed the plate of food in front of her, then glanced over at Griff. “Everything looks delicious. Thank you.”
    “Just eat what you can,” he told her, sympathy and understanding in his voice.
    “I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite.”
    “It’s okay,” Nic said. “No one expects you to—”
    “You have no idea what it was like.” Barbara Jean grasped Griff’s arm. “It was the most horrible thing imaginable, finding my sister like that. Her feet cut off. Blood everywhere.” Barbara Jean burst into tears.
    Before Nic could say or do anything, Griff slid his chair closer to Barbara Jean’s wheelchair and draped his arm around her shoulders, offering her solace. She buried her face against his shoulder and wept.
    Although Nic hated weepy females and had become determined at an early age to never become one, she couldn’t deny that Barbara Jean Hughes had every right and every reason to cry her head off. Good Lord, who wouldn’t have been devastated to find their sister mutilated and bleeding to death. It had been Barbara Jean’s quick thinking that had saved Gale Ann’s life.
    After several minutes of sobbing, Barbara Jean lifted her head. “I’m sorry that I fell apart that way.”
    Griff pulled a soft cotton, monogrammed handkerchief from the inside pocket of his tailor-made jacket. The man’s suit probably cost more than Nic made in a month, possibly a couple of months. He dabbed the expensive handkerchief under Barbara Jean’s eyes, then handed it to her.
    “You must know that you saved your sister’s life,” Griff said as he lifted his arm from Barbara Jean’s shoulders.
    “They don’t think she’ll live.” Barbara Jean clutched the handkerchief in her tight fist. “She lost so much blood before—” She gulped her sobs. “If I’d been able to get to her more quickly…if…”
    “You can help her by helping us find the man who tried to kill her.” Griff’s voice had softened, taking on a seductive quality that set Nic’s teeth on edge.
    “How—how can I do that?” Barbara Jean gulped.
    “I understand that you caught a glimpse of a man leaving Gale Ann’s apartment building as you were arriving. Do you feel up to talking about that or would you rather wait until after you finish your lunch?”
    Barbara Jean glanced at the fried chicken, creamed potatoes, and green beans on her plate, and Nic could almost hear the woman’s stomach churn. Her right hand shook as she reached for the coffee cup, so she had to use both hands to