Dancing at Midnight Read Online Free PDF

the girl, who
    couldn't have been more than thirteen. "What do you think of that one, eh?"/

    /John just shrugged again, not feeling especially communicative./

    /The girl, whose name he had learned during this -past month was Ana,
    came over and set a plate of food
    in front of him. He thanked her in Spanish. She nodded and smiled, but
    before she could leave, Spencer
    had pulled her onto his lap./

    /"Aren't you a nice piece?" he drawled, his hand creeping up and
    covering her barely mature breast./

    /"No," she said in broken English. "I—"/

    /"Leave her alone," John said sharply./

    /"Christ, Blackwood, she's just a—"/

    /"Leave her alone."/

    /"You're an ass sometimes, did you know that?" Spencer pushed Ana off of
    his lap, but not before giving her backside a vicious pinch./

    /John forked a bite of rice into his mouth, chewed, swallowed, and said,
    "She's a child, Spencer."/

    /Spencer flexed his hand. "Not the way I felt it."/

    /John just shook his head, not wanting to have to deal with him. "Just
    leave her alone."/

    /Spencer stood up abruptly. "I gotta go piss."/

    /John watched him leave and turned back to his supper. He'd not taken
    more than three bites before Ana's mother appeared at the table./

    /"Senor Blackwood," she said, speaking in a mix of English and Spanish
    she knew he understood.
    "That man—he touch my Ana. It must stop."/

    /John blinked a few times, trying to rid his mind of its alcoholic haze.
    "Has he been bothering her for long?"/

    /"All week, Senor. All week. She no like it. She frightened."/

    /John felt disgust roiling the contents of his stomach./

    /"Don't worry, Senora," he assured her. "I'll make sure he leaves her
    alone. She'll be safe from my company."/

    /The woman bowed her head. "Thank you, Senor Blackwood. Your word
    comforts me." She returned to the kitchen where, John presumed, she
    would spend the rest of the evening cooking./

    /He went back to work on his meal, downing another glass of whiskey
    along with it. Closer and closer to oblivion. He craved it these days.
    Anything to wipe his mind free of the death and the dying./

    /Spencer returned, wiping his hands on a towel as he entered. "Still
    eating, Blackwood?" he asked./

    /"You always did have a penchant for stating the obvious. "/

    /Spencer scowled. "Eat your slop then, if that's what you want. I'm
    going off in search of entertainment."/

    /John raised a brow as if to say, "Here?"/

    /"This place is ripe, I think." Spencer's eyes gleamed as he swaggered
    up the stairs and out of sight./

    /John sighed, glad to be rid of this man who had always been such an
    annoyance in his company. He'd never liked Spencer, but he was a decent
    soldier, and England needed all of those she could get her hands on./

    /He finished his meal and pushed the plate across the table. The food
    had been tasty, but nothing seemed to satisfy him anymore. Perhaps
    another glass of whiskey./

    /Oh, now he was drunk. Really drunk. There were, he supposed, still a
    few things for which to thank the Lord./

    /He let his head slump down toward the table. Ana's mother had been
    quite nervous, hadn't she? Her face,
    lined with worry and fear, floated through his mind. And Ana, poor
    child, she couldn't like having these men around. Especially one like
    Spencer./

    /He heard a thump come from the floor upstairs. Nothing out of the
    ordinary./

    /Spencer. Oh, yes, that's who he was thinking about./

    /Pain in the ass, he was. Always bothering the locals, caring for
    nothing but his own amusement./

    /Another thump./

    /What was that he'd said—he was going off in search of entertainment.
    That was rather like him./

    /Another odd noise —this one sounded like a woman's cry. John looked
    around. Didn't anyone else hear this?
    No one seemed to react. Maybe it was because he was closest to the stairs./

    This place is ripe, I think.

    /John rubbed his eyes. Something wasn't right./

    /He stood, bracing himself against the table to ease the nausea