Gilt Read Online Free PDF Page B

he's your friend, too, I assume?" Dan asked me.
    "Oh, sort of." I didn't have time for more of an explanation before Michael joined us.
    John stepped aside when Michael brushed past him. Michael paused, frowning, before standing near Paul at the table. "It felt cold there." His gaze went to Dan then to me. "We need to discuss what's going on."
    I gritted my teeth at his peremptory manners, typical Michael-speak. It still amazed me that he and John had been friends. "Michael Bennington, this is Dan--"
    "This is a private conversation. I'm sure you understand." Paul stared so fiercely at Dan I'm surprised small pinpricks of heat didn't start to sizzle on Dan's forehead.
    Dan pushed his chair back, reaching for his cane, glancing at me sympathetically. Michael's eyes flickered to Dan's leg and he raised one eyebrow, looking quickly at Paul, who nodded curtly. I wondered what that meant.
    "I apologize if I upset you," Dan said to me, ignoring Paul's hostile expression. "Contrary to what you've been told, I didn't suggest that your husband had anything to do with the fire. I think he's a victim, like my wife was. I hope we can--" He looked at Michael, started to say something then stopped. "I hope to talk with you later."
    He turned, for an instant standing side-by-side with John. I tilted my head, confused. Dan didn't appear dwarfed by John's height. On the contrary, both men exuded the same air of tough, physical competency. I had a fleeting thought that they were alike but I shook the idea away. Dan was nothing like John, at least in appearance. Why would I think that?
    Dan walked away, leaning heavily on the cane. John turned and watched him go, his face troubled. "I think he's a friend, Gen. You need to tell him that I didn't know his wife was in the building. I would have tried to help her if I had known."
    I started to reply but stopped myself in time. I contented myself with nodding. I looked beyond Paul and saw Dan glance back. Our eyes met and he smiled briefly before limping from sight. I don't know why, but that smile depressed me. It felt like my only ally was leaving me.
    Michael took Dan's empty chair, crossing his right leg over his left, pinching the crease in his crisp shorts as he did so. "What's the procedure, Paul? I'm concerned about this. I don't want John's good name to be tarnished."
    "Bullshit." John's voice was so harsh I flinched. He had moved and was now at the end of the table, Michael on his left and Paul on his right. He stared at Michael, whose blue eyes were wide and concerned. As always, I wasn't certain they reflected his real emotions. Michael was very good at disguising his feelings, probably a leftover from his days as a professional model. He reminded me of a plaster of Paris angel, one of those tawdry decorations in a Valentine's display. If you scratched the gilt covering, would you find Michael hollow underneath?
    "Why do you say that?" I asked John without thinking how it sounded to the earthly men sitting with me.
    Michael straightened. "John was a good man. I don't want his reputation to be injured by something like this."
    John stared at Michael as though he was a stranger. I couldn't understand it. Michael hadn't changed in the two years since John died. He was still lean and handsome with tousled, curly blond hair, a symmetrical oval face, and a narrow nose above a wide mouth framed by deep dimples. The Handsome was still as handsome as ever.
    "An investigation could as easily clear his name," I suggested.
    "Not if Michael has anything to do with it," John whispered harshly. "I had my doubts about him and Paul."
    I bit my lip to keep from asking the questions I longed to blurt. I turned my focus to Paul. "What's all this about Dan Steele calling in the FBI?" From the corner of my eye I saw Michael lean forward then suddenly lean back, as though trying to appear casual. "The FBI doesn't have jurisdiction, do they? Was a Federal crime committed?"
    "Of course not," Michael snapped. "Why