Burn (L.A. Untamed #2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

hair and a leather jacket came walking toward us. He passed us without a word or gesture but a moment later Mikey let go of my hand and lengthened his stride forward. As he moved farther and farther ahead of me my world started crumbling, the sidewalk breaking apart under my feet.
    I woke up with my face wet with tears. In the quiet darkness my heart was aching for what I’d lost and how much I was still missing the man Mike used to be to me. For a while I held the framed picture to my chest and cried but then when the tears stopped the anger set in, and in the trash it went.
    The next afternoon Bobo caught me in the station’s dumpster digging through the garbage for the picture. My regret of tossing it had gotten the better of me.
    “What are you up to, T. Rex? Disposing of a body . . . one of your victims?” he asked.
    “Yeah, right,” I snapped. “Watch it or you could be next.”
    Unfortunately my threat didn’t dissuade him—instead it apparently intrigued him. He walked right up to the dumpster and peered inside. “You did a good job. I don’t see the carnage.”
    “I’ve got skills,” I replied with a shrug.
    “What are you really looking for?” he asked.
    “A framed picture I didn’t mean to throw away.”
    “Huh,” he said, his gaze moving over the mess. “Is that it?”
    On the other side of the dumpster from where I’d been digging around, I saw the corner of the black frame rising up out of the garbage where he was pointing. I reached over and lifted it out only to see that the glass was shattered and the picture badly scratched.
    “Hey, that’s you. Is that your—”
    “Yeah,” I cut him off. “It’s my ex.”
    His expression fell and he looked down. “Oh. And now it’s busted. Sorry, McNeill.”
    “Me too,” I responded as I held it for a moment and then dropped it back down onto the pile of crap that was no use to anyone.
    I suddenly snap out of my memory and realize that the plumbing has quieted so that means that the showers must be over. Swinging my legs over the side of my bunk, I stand up and stretch, then head out my door. Hopefully someone will be in the dayroom to tell me what went down.
    I find Alberto and Scott sitting at a table nursing bottles of water. Scott is hunched over, resting his head in his hands, and Alberto is leaning back with his legs stretched out wide. They look beat.
    “Hey, McNeill, be glad you missed that call. What a bitch that job was,” says Alberto.
    “That bad?” I ask, feeling remorse I wasn’t there to help despite the fact that I wasn’t on the call list.
    Scott nods. “Abandoned warehouse in Sun Valley. Someone said it was a porn studio back in the day when the Valley was our nation’s porn capital. Now it’s just a shithole.”
    “Three stations were called. At least there was no chemical crap to deal with,” Alberto says.
    “Standard stuff, if it weren’t for Murphy and his damn heroic stuff.”
    I frantically look around hoping to see Joe. “What do you mean? Is he okay?”
    “Yeah, but no bullshit, there was a few minutes where we thought we lost him,” Alberto replies.
    I feel a surge of fear. Even though they say Joe is okay, it’s as if I can feel myself at the scene and that the horror of knowing one of our men is at high risk, especially Joe.
    “What happened?” I ask.
    “Murphy was working a line and a homeless guy came out of nowhere and grabbed him to say that his buddy was still inside.”
    “It was dangerously late, and Murphy knew it. The ceiling could’ve collapsed at any minute, and he went in anyway. That heroic stuff only works when you come out alive,” Scott grumbles.
    “And he did,” I state defensively.
    “He was lucky,” Alberto says, shaking his head.
    “Where is he?” I ask.
    “After the shower he said he needed some air. I think he’s down in the yard.”
    I stand up and look out the window. Joe’s sitting facing out on the picnic table bench, still as a statue.
    “I’m going to