The Reckoning by Christie Ridgway Read Free Book Online Page A

too.”
    Anthony’s dark-chocolate eyes widened. “I can’t go home with a stranger. My mother would kill me!”
    â€œI’m not a stranger,” Linda started to say, but Ricky was pushing his friend toward the school.
    â€œC’mon, Anthony, we have to put our signs and stuff away,” he said, herding the other boy off.
    â€œRicky, wait!”
    He turned back reluctantly. “What do you want now?”
    â€œI—” She sighed. “You really want to go home on the bus?”
    â€œYeah.”
    She rubbed her palms against the front of her jeans. “Well, then, I guess that’s what you should do. I apologize for coming here without checking with you first. And I apologize about thinking I could take Anthony with us. I didn’t think. I didn’t realize—”
    â€œThat he’d get in trouble. A real mom would know that.” He turned and walked away from her.
    A real mom would know that. A real mom.
    She couldn’t fool Ricky, could she? Even if she sounded like a mom, acted like a mom, learned all the mom rules, none of those would get her anywhere if Ricky himself didn’t want the mother in his life to be her.
    Â 
    Emmett didn’t need the skills of observation he’d honed through his FBI experience to know that Linda’s conversation with Ricky hadn’t gone well. Not only had she walked away without the boy, she’d spent the entire ride back home in a deep silence.
    He’d let her stew, because he didn’t know what else she needed.
    Back at the guest house, when she asked him to show her how to use the new treadmill, he’d hoped the exercise would exorcise the demons that were plaguing her.
    Instead, they seemed to be punishing her.
    She’d already been on the machine for thirty minutes, her speed increasing from a walk to a fast walk to a brisk jog, as if she were trying to outrun whatever was bothering her. The shorts and T-shirt she’d changed into clung to her perspiring body and the tendrils of hair around her face were wet.
    Still, she kept on moving, her long ponytail swishing behind her back, her running shoes slap-slap-slapping against the treadmill’s belt.
    Under the pretext of doing his own workout, he’d kept an eye on her. But he couldn’t pretend any longer that he wasn’t worried.
    â€œMaybe you should quit,” he called from across the room over the machine’s hum.
    She acted as if she didn’t hear him, so he set down the free weights he’d been pumping and strolled over to her. He stood right in front of the piece of equipment, ducking his head a little so that their gazes met. “Maybe you should quit,” he repeated.
    â€œBelieve me…I’m thinking…about it,” she panted out.
    â€œQuit running,” he clarified, then leaned forward to reach the keypad where he could reduce the speed of the belt. “It’s time for your cooldown.”
    She frowned at him, though her feet slowed. “Don’t need…a keeper,” she got out. “Used to be…fit. Very fit.”
    â€œYou’ll be fit again.” He punched the pad a second time, reducing the speed even more. “Unless you give yourself a heart attack first. And I charge extra for CPR.”
    She made a face at him, even as she sucked in a couple of long breaths. “You don’t believe me… Used to be one tough woman.”
    Her pace had slowed to a walk, and he let his gaze linger on her slim legs and their long stride. Toughness wasn’t an antidote to evil and tragedy, he thought to himself, frowning. Ryan had been tough. Lily Fortune was tough. But they hadn’t escaped the darkness the world could deal out. Jessica Chandler had been tough, too—the sweetest, toughest victim he’d ever tried to help—but in the end she’d been just that—a victim.
    â€œSecret agent accountant.”
    That brought his attention