Alpha Me Not Read Online Free PDF Page A

face. Her eyes stung, and tears streamed. She swiped at the moisture, but the density and acerbity of the smoke intensified. Her lungs burned, and a choking grime coated her throat. She coughed. One hack led to another, and soon she was in the grips of a coughing fit.
    Joe urged her to the corner of the cul-de-sac.
    She didn’t resist but couldn’t drag her gaze from the inferno. “Joe, Mr. Arnold’s in a wheelchair and he’s still in his house. Shouldn’t we do something?”
    Two police officers glanced their way, then at each other, and headed in their direction.
    “Evening. You two live on this street?” The policeman gave Susie a head-to-toe, one-second assessing glance, tipped his hat back a tad, and focused on Joe. He pulled out his ID, showed it to Joe, and introduced himself.
    Irritated at his blatant dismissal, she leveled her chin and narrowed her eyes. “I’m Susan White, and I’m renting the burning house. Aren’t you going to evacuate the neighbors?”
    “Happening as we speak, ma’am.” The man’s jaw worked, and he squinted at her.
    “Are they going to be able to save anything?”
    “Sorry, ma’am, we haven’t been updated yet. Right now they’re concentrating on containing the fire to just the one house. You said you’re renting the place?” He had the kind of carrot hair she associated with Opie Taylor and The Andy Griffith Show but, instead of the requisite smattering of nose and cheek freckles, boasted a perfect bronzed tan.
    “Yes. I moved in three days ago.”
    “The owner is Terri McGowan. She’s on an archaeological dig in Ireland. I spoke with her today, and she verified Ms. White as her tenant.”
    Susie flexed her fingers, glared at Joe, and folded her arms. He’d checked up on her? After barging nude into her backyard sporting nothing but a striped towel and an enormous erection? The gall of the man.
    “You have Ms. McGowan’s contact information?” Opie pulled a notepad from his shirt pocket.
    A whining noise drew Susie’s attention. The ladder they’d used to douse the roof—not that it had made any difference—was retracting. She couldn’t see much through the lingering dense smoke curtain but knew the scene would be one of near-total destruction once the wind cleared the smoldering ruins of the cottage.
    What was she to do now? Was her ATM card in the purse? Before Joe rang the doorbell, she’d been in the midst of organizing her laptop and briefcase in preparation for the meeting with her thesis chairman tomorrow. Crap. Her PC was gone. The suit she’d bought to wear for the event was gone. Burned. Ashes. All the prep work dissolved. But she always e-mailed her work to herself, so at least she had backups.
    Joe nudged her. “Detective Sands asked you a question.”
    Couldn’t he have repeated it, for cripes sake? “Sorry, Detective, I wasn’t paying attention.”
    “I asked if you’re certain the tank was empty?” Opie’s half-hooded perusal didn’t exactly shout respect.
    “I’m positive,” she said through gritted teeth. “And before you ask, I’m also positive that both the old and the new tank valves were closed.”
    She squinted at Joe. Figured he’d volunteer the information about the tanks, and from their twin yeah-right-as-if-a-woman-knew-about-valves-and-gas expressions, neither of the two men believed a word she’d said. Asswipes.
    Could she be charged with some offense? She had checked the tanks twice, hadn’t she? She must have. Dear God, what if she hadn’t and this was all her fault? Doubt and dread mingled with guilt swarmed her insides. She studied the cracked asphalt road, balled her hands, and prayed the fire wasn’t her fault, that she had closed the valves on both tanks.
    “Did you notice any strangers hanging around?” Opie’s hazel eyes widened when she gave him her patented say-a-word-and-you’re-dead-meat scowl.
    “I’ve only met three of my eight neighbors, Officer. Everyone’s a stranger to me. But no, I