Ray Hoy - Jack Frost 01 - The Vegas Factor Read Online Free PDF

lived alone.
    * * *
    “Do you understand, Felicia? Don’t leave this place without Ripper.”
    She stood in the open doorway, looking up at my stern face. Then, deadpan, she said “Yes, Jack.”  
    I know when I’m being humored. She pushed me out the door. “Don’t forget the pork chops.”  
    I walked to the Jag, shaking my head. I was beginning to feel like a married man. “Don’t forget the pork chops,” I said.  
    She was a great cook. For the first time in my life I found myself eating at home, a welcome change of pace. I am prone to taking the easy way out. When I’m hungry, McDonald’s and I are old friends. I break up the fast food routine, now and then, with a real dinner at a real restaurant—usually one of the casino places.
    I had to admit it was nice coming home and finding the place warm and clean, and the smell of dinner cooking. Even Ripper’s disposition improved—not a lot, but still …
    I shared Jilly’s relief, mixed with apprehension, at the lack of any attempt by Varchetta’s goon to grab Felicia. Vi had called from Mexico City. She was comfortable and having a good time.  
    It was getting more difficult to keep my defense mechanisms at full alert, thanks to too much home cooking and too many evenings in front of the fireplace listening to music, or watching television together.
    I began working out more, jogging more. I wanted to be away from the cabin, but that worried me, even with Ripper there. Thankfully she showed no desire to leave the place. I suspected it was a haven to her.  
    She usually wandered around the cabin in one of my old Vikings sweatshirts while she fixed dinner, cleaned the place, and rearranged this and that. The woman was blessed with flawless brown skin, fantastic gleaming black hair, and perfect white teeth. And her eyes, my God, they were enormous! While she lived in her own little world, I did not. I always knew where she was in the room, and what she was wearing, try as I might to concentrate on my book or TV show.
    Occasionally, she lapsed into long periods of silence. I never intruded. She was somewhere with Jonathan Flynn. I knew that and respected it. I found myself hoping that the passage of time would eventually make the loss more bearable, would blur the painful, vivid memories until one day she would find that, like it or not, she was actually getting on with her life.
    It’s a concept I’m familiar with.

    I came home from jogging one afternoon, and found her sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace. She was crying, and obviously had been for a long time.  
    Ripper’s head rested in her lap. He pawed at her now and then, and whined. An open book lay next to her on the floor. I didn’t have to look to see what it was. I cursed myself for having forgotten it was in the cabin.
    I’m an auto racing buff, have been all my life. I subscribe to all the magazines, buy all the yearbooks. She had run across my automotive library and found a picture of Jonathan Flynn, laughing and alive as he stood next to a Grand Prix Lotus, talking to a big man with a shock of red hair, mane-like eyebrows, long mutton chop sideburns and a fantastic flowing red mustache.
    I sat down next to her and put my arm around her shoulders. She folded against me, sobbing. Her body shook. After a while she fell asleep.
    I felt sorry for her, yet I envied the intense love she and Flynn had experienced, even if it was a tragic, painful affair. Some things are worth whatever they cost.
    * * *
    Felicia never got over that unfortunate day. The periods of silence became longer, and the gloom in the cabin deeper as the days dragged on. I’d come home to find her just sitting in the dark. Ripper was her constant companion. Gone was the aroma of dinner cooking, music playing.
    I missed it. And I felt more helpless than ever. A cold feeling settled over me. Try as I might, I couldn’t shake it. I wasn’t big on premonitions, but she was. During her brief period of healing, just