Sixth Sense (A Psychic Crystal Mystery) Read Online Free PDF Page A

body from top to bottom, à la Shelby, and finally returning her gaze to his piercing blue eyes.
    “Shelby was...um...interested in my weapon,” explained Jack.
    “I’ll bet she was,” Katherine said, smirking. She shook her head, reached into her purse, and tossed Jack his cuffs. Jack caught them easily.
    “You and Shelby may need these later,” she said, tightlipped.
    “Damn prima donna. If you’re so clairvoyant, then guess what I’m thinking right this minute.”
    Jack was more difficult to read, since his head was as thick as a cement block, but she imagined he and Shelby were planning an intimate rendezvous in Sydney. Maybe he’d already copped a feel from the flighty flight attendant, taken a taste of her lips. Who cared if he had? She wasn’t usually the jealous type. Jack apparently found Shelby attractive, in a blonde-bimbo sort of way. Most men would.
    Katherine smiled mischievously and spoke slowly, and loud enough for Shelby to overhear. “You’re wondering if we have enough time for a quickie before we land?”
    “You are so off base.”
    “Am I?” she drawled wickedly, in the sassiest tone she could muster. Katherine tried to negotiate her way around Jack, but he was as big as a brick house, and he grabbed her arm roughly.
    Somebody was mad.
    “Did anyone ever tell you you’re a major pain in the butt?” Jack said.
    “No, you’re the first.”
    “Is seeing things that aren’t there part of your psychic talent?”
    “Very funny,” Katherine said, continuing to stare at Jack.
    “You are more trouble than you’re worth, you know that?”
    Unfortunately, most men she’d dated had come to the same conclusion. She wished that just once she would meet a man who could understand her and appreciate her for who she was, psychic baggage and all. It hadn’t happened yet in thirty years.
    She had to admit that somewhere under all that shaggy underbrush the guy could be a major hottie. If he would just spring for a haircut.
    “The bathroom’s free, if you want to shave. Or you might ask Shelby if she has a pair of hedge clippers.”
    Katherine flashed a smile and waved before purposely sashaying down the aisle and settling into her seat, making sure he got a good look at her booty, which she considered one of her best features. If she had to be stuck with this bozo, then she was damn well going to enjoy herself at his expense.
    Minutes later, Beauregard—and she would be calling him that as often as possible—slid into his seat and glared into her eyes with his dangerous baby blues.
    “I foresee a tirade coming on in the very near future,” she said lightly.
    “Don’t give me any of your extrasensory shit.”
    “You’re crass.”
    “And you’re a quack.”
    Katherine pursed her lips and turned away toward the coughaholic in the seat next to her. She covered her mouth and felt her teeth tighten. She was not a quack, and she resented him saying so. His attitude was grating on her already frayed nerves.
    “You were saying something about my beard?”
    “You look like a Civil War reenactor,” she said, fastening her seatbelt and giving him a cursory glance. “No, one of the seven dwarfs. Goofy.”
    “Goofy’s a dog,” remarked Jack as he buckled up next to her, bumping her with his elbow.
    “Then Scraggly.”
    Jack lowered his voice. “As you well know, I was on an undercover assignment, which is why I grew this beard, before the department sent us to follow our serial killer—or a damn good copycat—to Sydney.”
    “It’s definitely him,” she insisted. “He’s not a copycat. The same man who killed those girls in Atlanta is the one murdering them now in Australia.”
    “Do we have to have this conversation in front of all the passengers?” Jack whispered. “This is official police business.”
    “I think the less we say to each other the better,” Katherine warned. “Just let me do my job so we can go home.”
    “To Mr. Psychic?”
    Katherine blew out a breath.