Never Say Sty Read Online Free PDF Page B

deal.”

    “What?” I stood, unsure I’d heard him correctly. Well, hell, of course I had. “My . . . unfortunate affinity for people in difficult situations”—like victims, or suspects, in miserable murder situations—“is irrelevant to what we’re talking about here.”

    Besides, he probably knew too much already. The guy was smart. Savvy. Undoubtedly Googled many people he met. And my past connections with solving murders weren’t exactly secret. In fact, I’d sometimes made use of my acquaintanceship with a paparazzo of sorts, Corina Carey, outspoken and brazen reporter for TV’s National NewsShakers show, when publicity made sense for helping to solve a crime.

    But still . . .

    “Are you worried that working with me on the show might endanger your life, Dante?” I demanded oh, so sweetly.

    “I can take care of myself,” he replied. “But I’m interested. We’ll let it slide for now, though. Glen, put what we agreed to in legalese, and then we’ll be through with this negotiation. Okay?” He looked at me.

    “This murder magnet couldn’t be happier,” I responded with a smart-alecky smile. “That’s how I think of myself these days—unfortunately or not—not ‘amateur sleuth.’ ”

    “Got it, murder magnet. So, now that we’re done, join me for dinner tonight.”

    No way. The guy took me out a week ago, then ignored me till it came time to do business. He could eat alone. Or with his high-powered, high-priced legal counsel who didn’t appear at all pleased that we had reached an agreement that would contain clauses he hadn’t championed.

    So why did I feel so bad when I said no? “Maybe once we get this deal all signed up,” I replied.

    “Fine. Tomorrow, then.” When I opened my mouth to protest, he said, “Glen will have the revisions by then. And you’ll be at the first potbellied pig program tomorrow, won’t you?”

    “Wouldn’t miss it,” I said with all certainty. In fact, I was looking forward to it.

    In a while, Dante was gone. So was Glen. And my peace of mind fled with them.

    So what did I do? I went to my office. Made a phone call I had no business making.

    I thumbed through the stuff in one of my too-tall piles, giving my nervous fingers something to do as I spoke. “Hi, Althea,” I said too brightly. “This is—”

    “You think I’d forget your voice this fast, Kendra?” she demanded dryly. Her tone softened. “Good to hear from you. How are you?”

    “Fine. And you?” We went through all appropriate amenities . . . except for ignoring the six-hundred-pound gorilla in her office that neither of us mentioned.

    Actually, her boss, Jeff Hubbard, head of Hubbard Security, wasn’t so huge or ugly. He was a great-looking guy, muscular and not an ounce overweight.

    He was also my former boyfriend, whom I’d dumped because of his really awful attitude toward me during a recent situation. One in which, yes, I’d been a murder magnet.

    “I’m calling to ask a big favor,” I finally said. “It’s made bigger by the fact that I don’t want you to—”

    “Tell Jeff,” she interjected. “Right?”

    “Right.”

    “Well . . .” She didn’t sound excited. “Tell me what it is.”

    “I’m negotiating a transaction that involves Dante DeFrancisco. I’ve done all the initial Googling I can, but your sources are a whole lot better than mine.”

    Mainly because they were supersecure. Althea, a really attractive grandma who’d become my good buddy over the last many months, was an A-one computer hacker.

    “That rich guy with all the pet stores?”

    “That’s the one. Will you do it?”

    “I admit I’m intrigued. He’s interesting. But . . . okay, I’ll do it . . . on one condition.”

    “What?” I anticipated what she would say—and it wasn’t something I’d like.

    “You’ll talk to Jeff. Maybe have lunch with him or something. See if there’s any way to mend fences.”

    “There isn’t, Althea,” I said. “But