If Looks Could Kill Read Online Free PDF Page A

whined. “I came all this way. And if it’s as great as everyone says it is, I can helpout even more. I turned eighteen a few months ago, and I control my trust fund now. There’d be a lot more where this came from. I don’t mean to be a skeptic, but I’m afraid that Lucien is the one who will have to convince me.”
    â€œI don’t know. . . . Lucien’s a very busy man.”
    â€œ Pretty please?” Caylin’s tone was so sweet, she thought she might puke.
    Jenny nodded reluctantly, then finally smiled.
    â€œI understand, Caylin. I’ll see what I can do. Wait here.”
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    â€œThat padlock weighs more than my makeup kit,” Jo grumbled. “Any ideas how we’re going to open it?”
    â€œJust one,” Theresa replied, looking over her shoulder to make sure the alley was still deserted. The sun was quickly setting, and the light was growing rusty and dim. She slipped a hand inside a hidden pocket, pulled out her reading glasses, and put them on.
    â€œYou going to read me a bedtime story?” Jo asked.
    â€œDid anyone ever tell you that you’re too cynical, Jo?” Theresa asked, examining the lock.
    â€œLet’s see, um, only everyone .”
    â€œWell, check this out, Miss Sarcasm.” Suddenly twin red lasers shot out of Theresa’s lenses. In seconds they burned through the steel clasp of the padlock. It burst open and clanked to the ground.
    Theresa shut down the lasers and grinned at Jo.
    â€œHoly Superman, Batman!” Jo marveled. “You have heat vision!”
    â€œJust a little bit,” Theresa replied, holding her thumb and index finger a smidgen apart.
    â€œYou sneak!” Jo exclaimed, whacking Theresa’s arm. “How come Caylin and I didn’t get glasses like those?”
    Theresa shrugged. “Neither of you wear glasses. I need them to see my computer screen. Uncle Sam thought they might come in handy.”
    â€œOh, that’s fair. You’re blind, so Cay and I get the shaft. Very nice.”
    â€œShut your boca, girl. We have a warehouse to search. Or are you going to play the Spy Who Whined a Lot?” Theresa teased, raising an eyebrow.
    â€œFine,” Jo growled, and opened the warehouse door. “But next time I’m requesting forty-four-magnum Gucci pumps.”
    The door creaked open, revealing a dark hallway. Jo and Theresa slipped inside and shut it behind them, plunging themselves in total darkness.
    â€œI don’t suppose you have little floodlights on your designer eyewear,” Jo teased.
    â€œYou mean you didn’t bring your flashlight?” Theresa muttered. She produced her own minilight. It was about the size of a cigarette lighter but very powerful. All the Spy Girls had one.
    â€œI travel light,” Jo replied indignantly.
    â€œToo bad you don’t travel flashlight,” Theresa joked.
    â€œYou have absolutely no sense of style, Theresa, and it shows in your insults.”
    â€œOh, rip my heart out, why don’t you.” Theresa shone the light at the far end of the dingy corridor. There was a rotted-looking door, peeling paint and all. “Come on.”
    They listened at the door but heard nothing. The hinges creaked angrily when they opened it, but no one seemed to be around to hear it. They found the main floor of the warehouse, a huge chamber half the size of a football field. It was big enough to hold an army of crates. And otherthan some splintered wood, foam peanuts, and rat droppings, it was empty.
    â€œYuck,” Jo said, grimacing. “How about that smell?”
    â€œYep,” Theresa replied, shining her light around. “That is definitely, without a doubt, a smell.”
    â€œAnd you call me a cynic,” Jo muttered. “What now, Miss Dry Humor?”
    â€œThere are four or five more floors,” Theresa suggested with a shrug.
    Jo rolled her eyes.