Turn or Burn by Boo Walker Read Free Book Online

don’t make the best first impressions.”
    “Truer words have never been spoken. I have news for you. I don’t need any more friends. You’re good right where you are. Let’s just take care of this family and do our job.”
    “Suits me.” I didn’t say anything else. We sat in silence for a moment, and then I started humming an old Irish number, filling the void.
    “You’re dismissed,” she said.
    I stopped humming but didn’t move.
    She pointed me toward the elevator. “Please go.”
    “All right, then.” I rode back down to my room, wishing I had treated her differently from the outset.
    I spent most of the night hating myself, wondering why I didn’t always treat people the way they should be treated, wondering why I was such a prick, why I was so bad with other humans. I wanted to fix it, but as I had learned, change doesn’t come easily.

CHAPTER 8
    I was in the gym in the building across the circle from the hotel at 5 a.m. the next day. I did five miles on the treadmill. Turned around and hopped off, thinking I was the only one in there so early. I’d been in my own world and hadn’t heard her come in, but she was on the other side of the gym, lying on the bench throwing some iron around.
    I went her way. She wore very little other than some beads of sweat and some tight black material covering up the goodies. “Good morning, Ms. Daly. They let you off duty?”
    “Hi,” she said flatly, pushing up another set.
    I reached over and grabbed two dumbbells. “Want to arm wrestle? I feel like we have some things we have to get past. We could settle it right here.”
    “Can we do this later? I’m really not in the mood for you. Another few days and we’ll never have to see each other again.”
    “I guess that means no arm wrestle.” I went over to the other bench and began to do some bicep curls. I looked up at the news and saw they were talking about the Singularity Summit. I turned on the sound and we listened to a Channel 7 newscaster telling people to steer clear of downtown, that estimates of people expected for the protests were in the thousands. Then they showed this woman preacher named Wendy Harrill jabbering about how evil these Singularists were, how they were trying to play God. I’d seen her on the tube a couple times over the years but had never given her words much of a chance. Harrill had been getting her fair share of fame over the past few days, though. That was for sure.
    I turned to Francesca. “I don’t think today is a good idea. I really don’t. It’s risks like this that lead to problems.”
    She didn’t say anything. Finished her reps and stood from the bench. She grabbed some heavier weights and started on some squats.
    I stood and watched her. “That’s where you get those thighs. I was wondering.” I smiled.
    She put down the weights. “You want to get off my back, Knox? Let me get a workout in without having to listen to you. Please.”
    Francesca threw her leg up against the wall and started stretching. I did not notice the perfect form of her thighs all the way down to her muscular calves. And I didn’t notice how hard she worked on her body. Know what I mean?
    She switched legs. Threw the other one up against the wall. Again, I did not notice how agile her body seemed. I did not wonder what fun we could have together.
    “Let’s just start over,” I said. “You had a chip on your shoulder coming into this thing, and I think if you’ll just take a deep breath and think about it, you’ll know everything is okay. You are not a target here.”
    “A target? You really are something, aren’t you? What you don’t realize is, I don’t care.”
    “Oh, I think you do. But let’s not let that get in the way of us.”
    That did it. Put her over the edge. “You’re an asshole.” And she left me there on the bench. She hopped onto the treadmill and pushed some buttons. In seconds, she was jogging her way to nowhere.
    I’d had enough myself. Why couldn’t