Epiphany (Legacy of Payne) Read Online Free PDF Page A

from his grasp and stalked toward the exit on wobbly feet. I smothered a giggle but then felt guilty for it when she tripped over her platform heels.
    Judd sighed. “Next time, Christie,  I’m  getting wasted. I’m sick of getting puked on and passed out on.”
    Six and I shared a glance, and we both burst into laughter as soon as their bickering faded into the night. “What is that . . . the third time this week?” I asked.
    She shook her head. “That girl’s gotta slow down.”
    “She was telling Aidan why drinking every day of the week is a necessity. The poor girl’s got a problem.”
    “I’ll slip her a pamphlet the next time she’s here.”
    I rounded up the empties on the bar. “Like that’ll help.”
    “I can’t believe you guys are related.” Six wiped down the counter.
    “Me neither.”
    “Enough about her. Now dish. Already on a first name basis, are we?”
    I stared at her blankly.
    “ Aidan ?”
    “What else should I call him?” I shot back.
    “How about Mr. Dark-and-Mysterious?”
    Six had a way of being uncannily perceptive. “Suits him,” I mumbled. He remained in my thoughts as we walked home that night. Sleep was an elusive commodity, but once I fell under its spell, I dreamed of him again. The same dream, and in the end I always found him in a puddle of blood.

4. Precipice

    Aidan came in every night, taking “his” spot at the bar. His spot, because I couldn’t look at that barstool and not think of him. I dreamed about him, thought about him, and unleashed my crazy infatuation into my drawings, which really pissed me off. As if I hadn’t drawn and painted the likeness of him enough over the past few years. Now, like a victim of OCD, I couldn’t stop.
    The dreams took over my nights. If I didn’t dream about him, I dreamed of things too horrible to put into words. The media released the name of the victim a few days after she was found, and the smiling face of Chloe Sanders was enough to make me cry. I instantly recognized her as the woman I’d seen in my dreams.
    As Halloween arrived, speculation over Chloe’s murder had settled down some. Most customers I’d overheard talking about it assumed she’d ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. Apparently, she’d had a drug problem—more than one customer described her as a “wild child.”
    “Ooh! I  like it!” Six said the instant I entered the Pour House. She was dressed to impress in an eighties style teenybopper outfit. Her eyes traveled up and down my body, assessing my old-fashioned sweater and knee-length skirt. “But . . . what exactly are you supposed to be?”
    “I’m Bonnie.” She stared at me blankly, so I added, “Bonnie and Clyde? Or did the gun escape your notice?” I twirled the dollar store pistol in my hand. The maneuver worked for about three seconds until it slipped from my grasp and hit the floor with a clatter. “Guess the gun wasn’t such a good idea.”
    “I thought Bonnie was blond.”
    “She was. I guess I could’ve died my hair—”
    “Don’t you dare!” Six wrinkled her nose, and her mouth turned up in that playful grin I was starting to recognize. “So does this mean you’re gonna find yourself a Clyde tonight? Maybe Mr. Dark-and-Mysterious will fill the role.”
    “That’s doubtful. Besides, being single isn’t against the law. This chick is Clyde-free.”
    She pouted. “You’re no fun, Mac.”
    “Yeah, the last time we tried fun, I ended up ruining a perfectly good jacket.”
    “I bet the pecs under it were worth the trouble.” Six winked and then bounced off in the direction of the packed bar.
    Mike had lured in a huge crowd by advertising cheap drinks and no cover charge. People spilled through the front door in droves, clad in a variety of costumes: angels and demons, ugly masks resembling the monsters kids swore lived under their beds, celebrity likenesses, and pirates and . . . cowboys? I laughed at the group of guys sporting dreadlocks, eyepatches,