"So, you think you might be OK, now? A different perspective, I hope?"
"Yes, yes, thank you, . . . You know I haven't gotten your name. I feel so . . ."
"No need to, son. You can just call me Dingle. And I won't be seeing you up here again, I do hope."
"Umm. I kinda hoped that—"
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Living with Paige was pure hell for Ally. Every moment she was around was like slow, agonizing torture which Ally often likened to having dull screws driven deep into her skull while having her heart ripped violently and awkwardly from her chest by hateful vultures. Well, maybe not that bad, but it definitely sucked in the worst possible way.
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As I woke up, slowly feeling my senses come back to me, a slight fuzzy light hitting my eyes, a slow ringing in my ears, a bit of a parched throat, I tried to get a sense of my bearings. I hate mornings like this. So discombobulated in those first few moments, needing to piece together the details of last night. Clearly I had had to much to drink, clearly I was a bit hungover.
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Spots of dappled sunlight streamed through the trees and danced and twirled on the pavement as I waited for her outside the building. She was always late, frantically trying to keep up with her life. Not that I would ever want her life, I snorted to myself. Immediately regretting the thought, I focussed on the distant rush of traffic echoing softly through what had to be the last quiet street in Brisbane's central business district.
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He was going to kill me.
Not merely an idle thought, but quite possibly a fact considering what I was about to do. I was treading not only the very distinct line of our abstract relationship this afternoon, but perhaps straddling the damn thing, erasing the permanent marker with the lacy tops of Chinese silk stockings, fraying the edges on the constitution of our very own sexual etiquette.
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I guess I did it on purpose though I'm not really sure I knew it at the time. If I think about it long and hard, I'm almost certain it wasn't my idea at all, but I'm not so certain you'd agree with me on that one. There again, I doubt you're complaining one way or the other since either way you still got your way. Okay, we both got our way, but that's not the point either.
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Twice during the short night, she had woken in terror and struggled in his arms. Each time he had held her tightly comforting her, his calm voice reassuring her that no one would harm her again. Nuzzling and petting her until she slept once more, it took more will power than he knew he possessed not to take her each time she woke and his hands travelled over her lithe, supple body soothing her fears.
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Chapter 1
My two fingers pecked out a staccato beat on my battered Remington as I put the final touches to the report I'd written on the case I'd just finalised. It was just a small matter of blackmail involving a young woman and a member of the clergy. For a consideration she agreed to destroy the negatives and to not reveal the sordid details of the affair to his wife and his church. She was happy that she would get her money eventually, although if I was her I wouldn't hold my breath.
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I had just parked my truck, which sometimes can be not exactly an easy thing to do. It took me at least a half dozen trips around the parking lot looking for a space large enough.
That is because it is a huge Dodge crew cab, oversize duallies on the back that sort of stick out.
Yep, she needs a bit of room.
I opened the door and had just put my foot on the running board to step down, being careful to not let the door scrape the top of the little thing parked in the next lane.
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"May you live in interesting times," Anya intoned. "Man, I always get that one!"
"In bed," I reminded her saucily.
"Speaking of which… Josh's coming over tonight," she giggled. "Read yours!"
"You are about to embark on a fabulous adventure." I paused for a beat then added, "In bed."
"Well, you are going on a trip tomorrow!" Anya squealed excitedly. "And it's been way too long since you had a man in your bed, mister."
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