Second Chance Read Online Free PDF

sugar for old Scruff, princess?”
    No. Gag. Like I might ever put my lips on your scuzzy werewolf face. I blew him an air kiss and hustled past him, pulling Flynn by the hand. Shoot, that was close. Scruff? I mean that had to be a nickname, right? I mean his parents couldn’t possibly have been that intuitive. I didn’t look back to see if he seemed disappointed. We forged forward into the belly of the beast.
    BOOM was hot, ungodly hot, tropical-rainforest hot—so hot I wanted to peel off my clothes and douse myself with a bucket of ice. The air carried a rugged smell, as if some mad scientist had synthesized a uniquely putrid odor from beer and BO. Reggae music blasted from the DJ’s loudspeakers so forcefully that I thought the bass would cause blunt-force trauma. The dance floor was jammed. Everyone was sucking down the suds, Red Stripe, Jamaican brew. I was sweating pretty good. “Now I know why the girls are almost naked.”
    Flynn fanned his face with his hands. “God, it’s like a sauna in here. Come on, I’ll buy you a beer.”
    “Sure, just make sure it’s cold. Better still, maybe I’ll just stand in the freezer for a while.”
    I was tempted to chug my beer, but I sipped at it slowly to stay clearheaded. Flynn was not as cautious; he proceeded to hydrate with reckless abandon.
    “Easy on the suds, my friend.” I scanned the room and found what appeared to be the VIP section. An unsavory-looking fat man was having a drink with a pretty little girl. It certainly didn’t look like a match made in heaven. She was young, way too young for him … or am I just being ridiculously naïve? She didn’t look like the fast-and-loose type. Not that you can go by looks. She could be a butt crazy, Lolita-esque slut. Somehow I didn’t think so. He had his huge paw on her taut, young thigh, and she continuously glanced down at it with a look of concern. I had a feeling she was in way over her head.
    I tapped Flynn on the shoulder and pointed. “Is that Mr. Big?” Flynn shielded his face with his hand and glanced over. He nodded. There was a second, tough-looking hombre at the table with Donovan. “Who’s the other lug at his table?”
    “Lyndell,” he whispered, “They call him Dell. He’s the muscle.”
    Lyndell was monster-sized. He had a neck the size of a steam pipe. “He looks like he can bench press a Volkswagen.”
    “Ya think?”
    Great, not only is Flynn in danger, but apparently he’s prone to sarcasm when he’s stressed. Stupid me, I’ll help him anyway. Donovan’s hand was like a compass, now pointed north in the direction of the young woman’s nether region. I saw her squirm, and then she made her move. I watched as she walked through the crowd toward the restrooms. Lyndell handed Donovan a small bottle and then … “Classic.” He roofied her drink. Son of a bitch!
    “What’s classic?” Flynn asked.
    “A metallic-blue 1963 split-window Corvette.”
    “ What?”
    “Never mind. It’s time for you to take a powder. I’ve got work to do, and the longer you stay here the more likely it is that you’ll be spotted.”
    “No argument.” Flynn placed his empty beer bottle on the bar. “Good luck.” He ducked out of the club.
    I hotfooted it into the ladies room the moment Flynn was gone. Donovan’s gal was washing her hands when I walked in. Close up and in better light, I could see that she looked even younger than I’d originally thought. I didn’t know what her story was or why she was with Donovan, but I had to say something. Whether or not Donovan had murdered Keyla was uncertain, but he looked like a whole lot of trouble, and this girl needed an abrupt wakeup call. “Is there a back entrance, sweetheart?”
    “Say what? Do I know you?” She sounded even younger than she looked. If I had to guess her name, I’d have to say Ivy or Lily or one of those flowery, girly names that are evocative of innocence.
    “No, we don’t know each other, but I’m about to do you a