Touching Evil by Rob Knight Read Free Book Online Page A

jacket."
    "The trash? Did you get anything from the lid? Even a little?" Damn
traffic lights. Come on, come on. His gut was just churning. He needed
to call Leah. Get Forensics to Greg's.
    "Just his hands. The last girl hurt his hand. Bit him. It's got bacteria in it now."
    Serve the bastard right if he rotted away. "From your trash? What is he doing in your trash, Greg?"
    "I don't know. Looking? Daring me? What's in my trash?" Greg sighed,
and Artie could almost see him rubbing the bridge of his nose.
    "Your life. What you eat. Where you shop. Receipts." Fuck, any cop
worth his salt knew what kind of evidence you could find in the trash.
"Your head hurt?"
    "Yeah. Yeah. Throbbing like a bitch. I need a cup of coffee in the worst way."
    "Figured. You sound tired." He always asked, then distracted. Then
asked some more. Greg could only do so much at a time. Nothing had ever
scared him more than when Greg had lost it on him, eyes rolling up
while that long body convulsed. Fuck. He'd honestly believed the man
would stroke out. "I bet we can get you one of those really strong
espressos with that milk stuff."
    "Oh, yes. Caffeine is proof there is a benevolent deity and it
adores us. What do you want for supper? I could go in somewhere and
order. To go."
    He thought about what Greg would like, would find comforting. "Hey,
how about some kind of fried chicken. Maybe some mac and cheese.
Something plebian. We can stop and get Krispy Kremes for dessert."
    The hungry little groan he got made him laugh. Alice and Mitch and
their macrobiotic, all-organic, tofu-loving ways would have a cat.
    Hey. That was an idea. He should give them Duke for a week. They'd
be eating grits with red-eye in no time. "Okay, I should be at your
cross street in about five minutes. Look for soul food. Oh, and I want
greens."
    "And biscuits. We should have biscuits with it." The life was back
in that voice, the focus back on what it needed to be. "Did your mother
make good ones or hockey puck ones? My mother's were like neutron
stars."
    "My mom made stuff you'd find in the bottom of a coal mine. But the
ones the lunch ladies made at the school cafeteria? Cheese biscuits,
man. Flaky cheddar heaven." Yeah, okay, parking, parking. Fuck. He
circled the block twice.
    "Mmm ... I like honey-buttered ones. Sugar on fat on sugar—drippy enough to have to eat with a fork."
    "Uhn. Fuck, yeah." There. Artie hauled the Camaro into a spot about
a block away from Greg and beat feet. He searched the streets for a
white pick-up.
    Greg was standing, carefully not touching anything, hands under his
arms, just searching the street with huge, dark eyes. The man screamed
"mug me." "You're close. The car just stopped."
    Then the earpiece was pulled free, phone disconnected as Greg caught sight of him. "Hey. You found me."
    "I did." He always seemed to. "So where are we heading to order supper?"
    Greg looked pale but composed, dark circles under his eyes, his mouth a little tense. But considering the evening crowd?
    Not bad.
    "Oscar's. Soul food. Quiet. Take out." Greg found a smile for him, the look apologetic. "I didn't find what I was looking for."
    "That's okay. Sometimes you do, sometimes you don't." The urge to
touch Greg rode him hard, just to make sure ... Fuck it. He let his
fingers cup Greg's elbow. "You okay?"
    He could feel Greg relax, lean into his hand. "Yes. I am. You didn't see his truck. and yes, I locked the doors before I left."
    Lord. Sometimes he wondered what Greg would pick up from his head if
they had sex. Not that he thought about it. Late at night with his hand
on his dick and Duke locked in the bathroom. The best way to deflate a
stiffie was a Siamese cat letting you know he'd seen better.
    He steered Greg toward the green and yellow neon sign that
proclaimed their target food, just shaking his head. The restaurant
smelled good—greasy and spicy and perfect. There were handfuls of
families, eating and laughing, kids giggling and bouncing in the
mismatched