By Jeff Abbott
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Additional resources for A Kiss Gone Bad
But he smiled, grateful for the kindness. ‘No, thanks. ’ Whit jingled his keys in his pocket. ‘Be careful,’ Irina called as he stepped out onto the grand front porch. Good advice. The previous three nights he’d dreamed of Irina in the most unmotherly ways. Be careful, right. He might mumble Irina in his sleep, and Faith Hubble would justifiably castrate him with her bare nails. The night sky glowed with far-off lightning. A freshly brewed storm hovered over the western Gulf of Mexico, scudding dark clouds over Port Leo.
He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a pair of headlights jouncing, rapidly gaining on them. Velvet dialed and waited. ‘Anson? Oh, good, you’re in town. Huh? Oh, okay. This is Velvet. ’ A pause. ‘Junior, listen. I got real bad news. ’ A longer pause. ‘I’m not kidding. He was shot. I’m okay. I’m holding up. I cried for a bit and now I am getting ready to cry some more. ’ Whit ran through his mental Rolodex of Port Leo, trying to place an Anson or a Junior. Velvet had mentioned a Junior Deloache as the boat’s owner.
Perfect. Three people emerged from the marina office. Lovely, one was his Darling. Why, she wore grief well, as cute as could be in her jean shorts. Pretty is as pretty does, Mama used to say. His mouth went dry with want. The three walked back to Pete’s boat, went aboard, and came out perhaps two minutes later. Velvet was sobbing. He could see her bent shoulders in the dim light of the marina. A man walked with her, steering her toward the police cars. Panic flamed in him. Oh, no. They were arresting her.
A Kiss Gone Bad by Jeff Abbott