For You (The 'Burg Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

escape, nothing to fear.
    Before this impulse could take hold, she lifted a hand and swiped back the hair from her face, pulling it away, holding it at the back of her head, exposing her ear and that silver hoop dangling from it.
    There was something about that earring in her ear, the same something that said what the choker said. And Colt understood it then.  
    It highlighted the vulnerability of her body, enticed you to curl your hand around it, get your teeth near it, at a place where you could do your worst or you could do something altogether different.
    Her voice came at him. “Morrie said you wanted to talk to me?”  
    Colt looked from her ear to her.
    She’d changed clothes since that morning. Colt knew Morrie took her to her place to pack and move to Morrie’s, Colt had checked in. She was now in her bartender clothes. Tips were probably better in those clothes rather than the light, shapeless cardigan she had on that morning. Though Feb could likely wring a good tip out of you with a glance if she had a mind to do it, no matter what she was wearing.
    Still, she looked beat, drawn, her shoulders drooped, her eyes listless.
    “Sit down, Feb.”
    She didn’t argue, just dropped her hand, pushed away from the door and headed to the chair.
    Colt walked to the door, closed it and moved back to her.
    She tipped her head back to look at him, shoulders still sagging, her arms straight, her hands loosely clasped together resting between her slightly parted thighs. Angie’s death had cut her deep, as it would anyone, particularly if you found her hacked up, bloody body, but it would especially cut up someone like Feb.
    “I gotta show you something.”
    She nodded.
    He handed her the Ziploc bag and she unclasped her hands and took it. He watched vertical lines form on the insides of each of her eyebrows as she scanned it. Her eyes moved down the paper then back up then down again.
    “I don’t get…” the lines by her brows disappeared and her lips parted right before her head jerked back. “What –?”
    “Do you know what that is?” Colt asked.
    “Yes,” she whispered then suddenly surged to her feet.
    Her hand came out and grasped his shirt, her fist curling into it so tight he saw her knuckles were white, the skin mottled red all around. Her head was tipped down, looking at the note and her hand at his shirt was moving back and forth with force, taking his shirt with it as she beat his chest, not knowing she was doing it.
    “Oh my God. Oh my God,” she chanted, the hand holding the note was now shaking.
    “Give me the note, Feb.”
    “Oh God.”
    “Hand me the note.”
    “Oh my God.”
    He took the note from her at the same time his hand covered hers at his chest, stopping the movement, holding it tight against his body.
    Her eyes were glued to the note in his other hand.
    “Look at me, February,” she did as she was told, he saw her face was pale and he ordered carefully, “tell me about the note.”
    “That note doesn’t exist.”
    He lifted it and gave it a shake and didn’t want to say what he had to say but he had to say it. “It’s right here, Feb.”
    “I mean, I threw it away, like, twenty-five years ago. ”
    Fucking shit, goddamn it all to hell.
    That was what he was afraid she’d say.
    “Tell me about the note,” Colt repeated.
    She shook her head sharply side to side – in denial, trying to focus – he didn’t know. Her hand tightened further into his shirt, he felt it under his own hand and she leaned some of her weight against it, pressing her fist deeper into his flesh.
    He waited, giving her time. She took it.
    Then she told him, “We used to be good friends, you know that.”
    “I do.”
    “Angie used to come over, all the time.”
    “I know.”
    “She liked Kevin.”
    He didn’t know that but he wasn’t surprised. Kevin was a good-looking guy; a lot of girls liked him. He was a year ahead of Colt, a senior when Feb and Angie were freshman, in their school, at