Perfect Victim, The Read Online Free PDF

remained silent, hoping his brother would let it pass. As far as he was concerned , his jaunt down the superhighway of self-destruction was his business . He'd get his shit together when he was ready.
     
    After pouring two cups of coffee , Randall set one on the desk in front of Jack and watched as he played the keyboard like a finely tuned musical instrument .
     
    "When are you going back to D . C . ?" Jack asked , skimming deft fingers o v er the keys.
     
    Because he hadn't been sure how long he would be staying in Denver , because he hadn't been too sure about anything at the time , Randall had moved in with Jack , but soon found that a roommate was the last thing his independent-minded older brother wanted. Self-reliance was too important to Jack, especially since he'd been confined to the wheelchair. He made no bones about giving Randall a six-month limit on his tenancy.
     
    "My leave is up in a few weeks. I'll be going back to work then." If I'm deemed competent, a little voice chimed in.
     
    Jack spoke without looking away from the monitor. "You're welcome to stay on here a little longer if you want. You became a resident. Got your P.I. license. If you weren't sleeping with your bottle every night, I might have offered you a partnership."
     
    "Next time I need a lecture, I'll let you know," Randall said tightly, wishing his brother would stop treating him as if he were some kind of alcoholic. Admittedly, he drank too much, but he didn't think he was in over his head. At least not yet.
     
    Setting the cup on his desk, Randall noticed the manila folder. He reached for it, flipped it open, and found himself looking at a copy of a birth certificate, letters from a local attorney, and handwritten notes. The name Addison Fox drew his gaze, and an uncomfortable sense of guilt settled over him.
     
    She'd caught him off guard. Not hard to do after a bottle of whiskey and three hours of sleep, he thought sourly. Not that his general frame of mind was a plus these days. He'd acted like a loser, and she'd treated him accordingly.
     
    Randall wasn't proud of what he'd become, and he felt the loss of his personal integrity like a stake through his heart. A man had hit bottom when he started making mistakes like the one he'd made this morning. He'd cost his brother a client and, in the process, his own self-respect had slipped another notch.
     
    A business card with the depiction of a steaming cup of coffee was clipped to the front of the folder. Frowning, he plucked it off and realized she owned the upscale coffee shop on the corner a few blocks down. He wondered why she needed a private detective.
     
    He stared at the card, taking in the faint scent of her per fume, trying in vain to ignore the tug of shame that drifted over him . Something about her had him thinking about the sorry state of his life. She'd looked young and wholesome and undamaged by the same world that had nearly destroyed him.
     
    He considered stopping in at the Coffee Cup but doubted she would be receptive to an apology so soon . Might be best to let her cool off a couple of days . As he walked out the door, Randall realized he was looking forward to seeing her again. Next time , under different circumstances.
     
     
     
     
     
    * * *
     
     
     
    Addison wanted to break something, preferably Randall Talbot's skull . She was still furious when she arrived back at the shop. Not even the brisk walk or the sight of the falling snow had cooled her anger . Talbot was a crude , unethical man who had the nerve to call himself a professional, then prey on unsuspecting people in need.
     
    It only disgusted her further that her body hadn't noticed .
     
    As much as she didn ' t want to admit it, she couldn ' t remember ever being so physically aware of a man. She'd never been one to ogle biceps or tight jeans or other such superficial attributes. It grated against her sense of propriety that her hormones had gone into overdrive for a crass, mean spirited