Manna From Heaven Read Online Free PDF Page A

you’re supposed to be here,” he said through his teeth. “What’s your name?”
    The urgency of his manner compelled her.
    “Charlie. Charlie Bates.”
    He swore, his gaze raking her. “I should’ve guessed. The clothes, the damned dog. You ever hear the saying, up shit creek without a paddle? Lady, that’s where you are right now. Get out, keep your mouth shut, play along with whatever happens and stay the hell close to me. My name’s Jake Crutcher.”
    The trio had almost reached the Jeep by this time. Giving her a final inimical glare, he reached across her, doused the lights, turned the ignition off, pulled the keys from it, and got out. When she didn’t immediately follow suit, he ducked his head back inside the open door and said “get out” in a tone that made her jump. Though she would by far have preferred to stay where she was, Charlie did as he ordered. Not to do so might well be a fatal mistake, she thought, although she didn’t know whether to be more afraid of him or them. He was a solid black shape in a world full of charcoal shadows as he moved toward the front of the Jeep. Stomach quaking, hands icy with fear, she joined him, not seeing any alternative. As she did, he glanced down at her, and caught her hand in a grip that hurt.
    Jake. His name was Jake, and apparently, as far as she was concerned, he was the good guy now, she reminded herself in a panic, discreetly wriggling her crushed fingers in an attempt to loosen his grip. Oh God, would they kill her if they discovered she was not one of them? It seemed very probable that they would: They weredrug smugglers, after all. Heart thumping, the dry, tinny taste of fear in her mouth, she pondered her options. Running for it was out of the question; his hand held hers in what she was certain was an unbreakable hold, as if he feared she might try to do exactly that. Besides, she would never be able to get away, and to run would be to reveal her fear. That might very well prove fatal. Already the newcomers were looking her up and down in a way that made her shrink closer against the dark bulk of Jake’s side.
    Suddenly he truly did seem more like an ally than a threat. If he meant to kill her, her guess was she’d know it by now.
    Instead he’d told her to stick close to him, and was even now holding her beside him with a death grip on her hand. For whatever murky reason, this particular drug smuggler was prepared to protect her, it seemed. Not exactly the protector she would have chosen if she had been doing the selecting, she reflected, but the old saying about not looking a gift horse in the mouth definitely applied in this case. He might appear menacing, and be every bit as much a criminal as the others, but every instinct she possessed screamed at her that he was the only chance for survival she had.
    “Who the hell’s she?” One of the men—the shorter, stockier one—was looking her over in a distinctly non-friendly fashion as the newcomers reached them. “And where’s Skeeter?”
    “This is Charlie. She’s okay. I told her to meet us out here because I thought we might need a backup vehicle. Skeeter’s dead. His chute didn’t open.” This last was said without emotion.
    “Shit.” The stocky man sounded annoyed rather than grieved. The woman gave a little choked cry, and her hand flew to her mouth. The stocky man’s head turned toward her. “Shut up, Laura.” His tone was brutal. Then, to Jake, he added, “What about the stuff?”
    “It’s here. All you have to do is pick the duffel bags up. Skeeter kept the cash with him. He’s over there.” Jake nodded in the general direction of Skeeter’s body.
    “Hel- lo , seventy-five million,” the taller man chortled.
    The woman—Laura—made another small sound. Despite her drumming heart, Charlie felt a stirring of sympathy for her. No one else seemed to care so much as a snap of his fingers that a man was lying nearby, dead.
    “I said shut up, Laura.” The stocky man