Charley's Web Read Online Free PDF Page B

again—something he did with alarming regularity, Charley thought—causing the skin around his sleepy brown eyes to crinkle. “I’m just having fun, playing with you a little,” he admitted.
    “I don’t like being played with.”
    “Is that what your little literary temper tantrum was really all about? You felt you were being played and it hurt your feelings?”
    “This isn’t about hurt feelings,” Charley said, trying not to enjoy the phrase “little literary temper tantrum.” “And it’s certainly not why I left work this morning to drive all the way over here in the pouring rain.”
    “Aw, it’s not that far,” Glen pointed out.
    “Where’s my brother?”
    Glen nodded toward the rear of the club. “In my office.”
    Immediately Charley darted in that direction.
    “Turn left,” Glen said, following after her.
    Charley quickly reached the back of the club and pushed open the hand-carved mahogany door to Glen’s office, her purse slapping at her side. The blinds were partially closed and the wood-paneled room was mostly in darkness, but even so, she could make out the figure of a man sprawled on his back across a red velvet sofa, right leg on the floor, left arm tossed dramatically over his head, light brown hair lying limp across his forehead. “My God. What have you done to him?”
    Glen flipped on the light. “Take it easy. He’s just sleeping.”
    “Sleeping?” Charley dropped her purse to the floor and rushed to her brother’s side. She knelt down, laying her head against his chest, listening for the sound of his breathing.
    “Passed out, actually.”
    “Passed out? What did you give him?”
    “Well, I tried to give him a cup of coffee, but he’s stubborn. Like you. Said he didn’t want any.”
    “Bram?” Charley said, shaking his shoulder gently. And then not so gently. “Bram, wake up.” She looked from her brother back to McLaren. “I don’t understand. What’s he doing here?”
    “Oh, so now you want to talk?” Glen sank into the second, smaller sofa positioned at a right angle to the one on which Bram had apparently spent the night.
    “How do you even know my brother?”
    “I don’t,” Glen admitted. “First time I laid eyes on him was last night when I asked him to leave.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “According to my bartender, your brother arrived around ten o’clock last night, had a couple of drinks, hit on a few young ladies, then became quite belligerent when they turned him down. He started mouthing off, being generally obnoxious, telling everyone within shouting distance he was really here to score some dope, and where were all the dealers he’d read about in his sister’s column?”
    “Which was how you knew he was my brother,” Charley stated with a roll of her eyes.
    “That, plus I checked his wallet for ID after he passed out.”
    “Which was when exactly?”
    “Around one o’clock.”
    “How’d he get that bruise on his face?” Charley ran a wary finger along her brother’s pale cheek. She felt him flinch, although his eyes remained closed. “Did you hit him?”
    “I had no choice.”
    “What do you mean, you had no choice?”
    “He was drunk, and probably stoned as well. I told him I was gonna call a cab to take him home, but he refused, said he was perfectly capable of making it back to Miami on his own. Well, I couldn’t let him do that. So I followed him to the parking lot, told him he was in no condition to drive, and he said to try and stop him.” Glen shrugged. “Like I said, I had no choice.”
    “You were being a good samaritan?”
    “I just didn’t want him driving drunk and maybe killing somebody. The last thing I need right now is a lawsuit.”
    Charley saw a flash of lightning from behind the half-closed metallic blinds, followed seconds later by a crack of thunder. “So you brought him in here?”
    “Would you have preferred it if I’d left him outside?”
    “I hope you’re not expecting me to thank