Viper by Patricia A. Rasey Read Free Book Online Page B

best. "I just didn't expect you to speak to me.” She chuckled. “That was certainly rude of me. What I meant is that I've been coming here for years and you've never once spoken to me before."
    "Maybe it's about time I did." Kane's fingers graced the hollow of her throat where a blood-filled glass vial and red jewel hung from a black, leather cord. "I'm suddenly famished if you're game."
    Her red lips tipped into a wide smile. "Really?" she asked, followed by a nervous giggle. The sound cut straight to his spine, enough to make him want to about-face and find food elsewhere.
    She had to be in her late twenties, making the giggle sound a bit immature. But what did he care? Food was food. "Really," he repeated. "What shall I call you?"
    She looked at him, confusion clouding her eyes. "Call me?"
    Kane resisted the urge to tell her to forget it and move on. "Your name, sweetness."
    "Oh. I'm sorry … my name is Suzi."

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 4
     
    Cara walked through the door at Murphy's, thankful the earlier rain had paused for her ride back to town. She had been soaked through before her shower, chilling her to the bone. Truth be told, she wouldn't have agreed to the beer had the weather not cleared. 
    An eighty's tune from the band Poison blared on the juke box, already lightening her dark mood. Maybe coming out for a beer was exactly what she needed. She'd never tire of the classic hair band, even if she really wasn't old enough to remember them the first time around. Bret Michael's and his Rock of Love had made sure her generation knew who the rock icon was.
    The bar's owner motioned her over the minute he caught sight of her weaving through the crowd. Even on a weeknight, Murphy's packed them in. She side-stepped several people, careful not to bump their hands or catch them off guard. A bar full of standing patrons with full glasses in their hands usually meant she was wearing liquor by the end of the night. No one had ever accused her of being graceful.
    "Hey, beautiful," he said, gathering her into a bear of a hug. "Where’ve you been hiding?"
    She backed from his embrace and smiled up at the very tall man. He could have been a basketball player for his height, but Cara knew that Lyle lacked the ambition for sports in school, opting for partying with his buddies instead of dribbling balls. "I've been working, Lyle. Some of us are busy with our jobs."
    "Shit, them boys" —he indicated her fellow deputies with the towel in his hand— "work, too. But they got time to come in and patronize my bar."
    "If that's what you want to call what they do." She smiled and winked at the six-foot-eight man, then headed for the table of fellow officers.
    "You drinking?" Lyle hollered after her.
    "Joe was supposed to have a beer waiting," she said, smiling as Hernandez pointed at the frosty mugged draft already sitting on the table in front of the empty chair.
    "Sit your pretty little behind down, Brahnam," Joe said. "You're already about three beers behind."
    "Good thing." Cara pulled out the chair and sat, taking a healthy swig of the icy cold brew. She had to admit, the beer tasted great after the day she’d had. "Or I'd be heading home for bed already."
    "Everyone knows you're a lightweight, Detective," Jeff Reeves said with a chuckle. She could tell he was well into several beers, his glassy eyes proving as much.
    "Not a lightweight, Jeff. Just smarter than the rest of you fools. I certainly hope you have a designated driver."
    Joe slapped Reeves on the back and chuckled. "We'll make sure he gets home and tucked in all right."
    "So, what was all important to get me out of the house on a chilly night? To think I could be curled up in bed with a good book right about now."
    "See, that's exactly why we called." Joe grinned, saluting her with his draft. "We're saving you from yourself."
    A round of laughter followed Joe's taunt, which she shared in. They weren't poking fun at her but rather joking with her. Working