Fat Tuesday Read Online Free PDF Page B

did. She didn't remove her clothing. She didn't actually fondle that erogenous zone. She didn't moan or groan or gyrate or breathe heavily through partially opened lips.
    Nevertheless, her pose was arresting. Arousing, even.
    And apparently he wasn't the only one who thought so.
    Burke had been so transfixed by her that he saw the approaching man only seconds before she herself became aware of Wayne Bardo.
    Bardo, Basile thought, contempt causing his mustache to curl downward.
    He'd mistaken her for a classy chick, when she'd been waiting on Bardo, lord of the lowlives, a career criminal who always beat the rap with the able assistance of Pinkie Duvall.
    Did she know that Bardo had killed a prostitute when he was only sixteen? They'd been playing tie-me-up-and-hurt-me when he'd gotten her neck confused with her wrist and strangled her with her own stocking.
    He'd been tried as a juvenile for involuntary manslaughter and served only a year of his sentence before being placed on probation. If that's the kind of creep this high-ticket whore pandered to, she deserved no better than she got.
    Bardo was all over her now, and she was squirming against him.
    Turning away in disgust, Burke thrashed through the hedge and returned to his Toyota, parked among the Beemers and Jags belonging to Duvall's guests.
    "Taking the evening air?"
    Remy's heart jumped when she opened her eyes and saw Wayne Bardo standing poised in the entrance of the gazebo. He had been intentionally stealthy, wanting to startle her. His dark features were heavily shadowed and indiscernible, like a figure in a nightmare.
    Instantly she lowered her hands, but she knew he'd seen her pressing them against her body because his grin was even more suggestive than usual. He was blocking her exit. Short of vaulting the railing, there was nowhere for her to run.
    Without bothering to conceal her dislike, she asked, "What are you doing out here?" "I missed you at the party. Came looking for you."
    He stepped forward.
    Although it took an act of will not to recoil from him, Remy stood her ground. When he was only inches from her, he gave her an insulting once-over, his eyes lingering on her chest. Lowering his voice to a confidential level, he said, "And here you are."
    Bardo was handsome in the way of a silent-movie idol. His black hair was combed straight back from a wide forehead and steep widow's peak.
    He had a smooth, olive complexion. He was trim and lean, and flashily dressed. But from the day Remy met him, she had mistrusted his suave manner and was put off by the smoldering intensity he affected.
    Even before Pinkie was retained to represent him in the Stuart case, they had been associates, so Bardo was a frequent visitor to the house.
    Remy treated him with cool politeness, but avoided having any close contact. His smoky stares gave her the creeps.
    On those rare occasions when she was caught alone with him, usually by his cagey design, he never failed to say something suggestive, his smirk loaded with innuendo. He always acted as though he and she shared a naughty secret.
    "Pinkie will be looking for me."
    She tried to move past him, but instead of giving way, he boldly splayed his hand over her lower body and stroked her with his fingers.
    "Why don't you let me take over for you here."
    He had never dared to touch her, and for a moment she was paralyzed by repugnance and fear. She had overheard enough of his boasts to know that he enjoyed all forms of violence, a penchant that logically would extend to his relationships with women. No less importantly, she feared what Pinkie would do if he were to learn that another man had laid a hand on her.
    Bardo's boldness tonight was probably due to his delusions of invincibility following his acquittal, and possibly to the alcohol she smelled on his breath. His excitement would only be fanned if she showed any fear. Instead, in a harsh and distinct voice, she told him to remove his hand.
    Stretching wider his reptilian grin,