By a Thread Read Online Free PDF

while I kept an eye on our bags. Finally, twenty minutes later, the bellman grunted again as he heaved my suitcase onto the bed. Bria tipped him, and he left us alone, takingthe cart and closing the door on his way out.
    It might not have been my preferred choice for a hotel, but even I had to admit that Finn had booked us an impressive suite. Three lavish bedrooms all featured king-size beds, mounds of pillows, and flat-screen TVs, while the matching bathrooms contained oversize porcelain tubs that rested on real golden claw feet, along with white wicker baskets full of expensive soaps and flowery lotions. The bedrooms all connected to an enormous central living room with furniture done in shades of white, black, and gray, as well as a fully stocked kitchen and a wet bar that had almost as many different kinds of liquor as Northern Aggression, a nightclub that we frequented back in Ashland. Two French doors led out to a patio complete with furniture and that overlooked the ocean. Tomorrow, when the boys arrived, Finn had arranged for Owen and me to share a similar suite while he and Bria stayed in this one.
    â€œNow what?” I asked, watching Bria while she riffled through the various room service and spa menus that had been propped up on the kitchen counter.
    â€œWhat do you mean, ‘Now what?’? Now we go out exploring. You know, see the sights, buy some souvenirs, things like that, before we go see Callie later this evening.” Bria looked at me. “You have been on vacation before, haven’t you, Gin?”
    I shifted on my feet. “Sure I have. I went to Key West just last fall.”
    I didn’t tell Bria that I’d spent most of my time down there reading, drinking, and brooding about a number of things, includingFletcher’s murder and my strange relationship with Donovan Caine, a cop that I’d been involved with before he dumped me and left Ashland for good.
    â€œWell?” she said, grabbing her purse off the sofa where she’d thrown it when we’d first come into the suite. “Are you ready?”
    â€œYou betcha.”
    Bria didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm in my voice, and she turned toward the door so she didn’t see the forced smile drop from my face. We’d just gotten here, but I could already tell that this was going to be a long, long weekend.
    Watch out, tourists and locals alike. Gin Blanco is on the prowl.
    One of the valets brought the car around, and we headed out. The resort hotel was close to one of the long, narrow bridges that connected the island and town of Blue Marsh to the outside world. Instead of crossing the bridge, Bria turned left and headed inland.
    The farther we drove, the more the landscape shifted from smooth, sandy beaches to thick, swampy bogs choked with gray cypress trees full of thick wads of Spanish moss and neon green cattails that were taller than I was. But no matter the plant life that surrounded the soupy marshes, the still, shallow waters reflected back the brilliant blue sky overhead, until it seemed that the surface of the swamp was as bright and clear as the azure sky. Hence the name Blue Marsh, I guessed.
    But the swampland was far from deserted. Through the twisted, gnarled trees, dozens of mansions could be seen clinging to what high groundthere was, along with several themed shopping developments, coffee shops, and high-end restaurants. Looked like Blue Marsh was a bit of a Southern boomtown.
    â€œIt reminds me of Northtown,” I said, watching something that looked like a gray-green log with eyes drift across a pond, disturbing the perfect reflection of the sky there. “But with gators.”
    Northtown was the rich, fancy, highfalutin part of Ashland where the city’s power players—magical, social, monetary, and otherwise—lived on their immaculately landscaped estates. McMansions just like the ones I was looking at right now filled Northtown, along with sly, uppity folks