Bleeding Green Read Online Free PDF Page A

dark, well-built man.
    His arms lifted, bent at the elbow, fingers snapping in time to the Irish ballad. The man’s black T-shirt fitted his muscular torso like a second skin. A heavy, dark green jade cross hung on a black leather necklace pulsing as he flexed his steel-toned pectoral majors.
    Laurel watched in disbelief as the man’s mouth clamped down on the back of Mary Helen’s neck. An octopus couldn’t have done better. The snapping of his fingers in harmony with the pulsing of his pecs was too much to watch.
    Sending a hard stare toward Mary Helen was not effective. Wasted effort.
    A shriek accompanied by a sultry giggle came from Mary Helen.
    Weary of the smoky pub, Laurel stood. Weaving her way through the inebriated crowd, she navigated to the bar. Paying the tab, she attempted to get her friend’s attention.
    After a few long moments, Mary Helen noticed her friend standing at the bar. She frowned, shaking her head in a NO gesture.
    Laurel gave a half-smile, a small wave and turned to leave.
    “No, Laurel!” The voice rose over the music.
    With a hand on the door, Laurel looked over her shoulder.
    Mary Helen was dragging her octopus lover behind her. Her hand held his in a tight grip. Her voluptuous breasts swaying as they spilled out of her low-cut, red knit top, she reached the door as Laurel pushed it open. She grabbed Laurel’s arm.
    Now she had two victims. Laurel decided to push on.
    Panting as if in heat, Mary Helen pleaded and begged. “Laurel, you’re here! Stay and enjoy.”
    Heading toward her vehicle, Laurel towed the two people behind her, as she attempted to shake off Mary Helen’s hand. Now her friend had become an octopus. She began to doubt her sanity.
    Reaching her silver Toyota Tacoma 4X4 double cab pickup truck she stopped. Looking down at her friend’s hand, she pried it off her left arm like a large piece of lint.
    “I’m beyond tired. Music was good. My drink was good and now I’m going home.”
    “Let me introduce you to this delicious Irish gorgeousness!” Mary Helen’s voice was slurred and full of excitement. She pulled the smallish, muscular man forward.
    “Laurel, Ty Murphy. Ty, this is my very best friend, Laurel Grey.”
    As his hand wrapped hers in an iron handshake, Laurel thought she might never have the use of her fingers again. She struggled to keep from wincing, as she endeavored to match his Tyrannosaurus Rex grip. No good. Her hand was going painfully numb.
    The look in his dark eyes sent a shiver down her spine. His mouth mimicked a smile, white teeth sparkling in the street light glow. The incisors appeared to have been sharpened.
    “Hello, Ty.”
    No response. Just the relentless power squeeze.
    “You can let go of my hand now.” Darned if she was going to say please to this prehistoric Napoleon!
    “Oh, no, lassie. The pleasure is all mine, to be sure.”
    His Irish accent seemed way over done. Perhaps she was judging too harshly. Right, dude. Take a walk on the wild side.
    Something caught her attention in the cab of her truck. Turning her head she glimpsed a red blinking light on her Nextel work phone. Mitch Herman, assistant park manager, had asked her to fill in for him for the evening as he had a wedding to attend. Neither of them had expected any problems.
    Laurel glanced at her friend for help. Mary Helen was too absorbed in the alcoholic glow of all that’s right in the world. Both of her arms were wound around Ty’s loose arm.
    “Ty, nice to meet you. Now, release my hand!” A harsher, stern quality was in her voice.
    Gallantry emanating from every sweaty pore, he gave a courtly bow as he dropped her hand. “Ah, but I forgot meself. Your hand is so smooth and small. Like Irish butter ‘tis.” He shrugged his head sideways at Mary Helen and continued. “Your lovely friend here was tellin’ me that ye are a park ranger. Is that so?”
    With her eyes, Laurel lasered a beam that should have drilled through the core of the tipsy