Sundown on Top of the World: A Hunter Rayne Highway Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page A

if we can pay just the rent. Daniel!” Simone Beliveau Sorenson stamped her foot. “Are you hearing me?”
    Dan Sorenson couldn’t help admiring his wife’s pretty foot, which was right in his line of vision given his head was bowed and his eyes were trained on the scuffed linoleum of the kitchen floor. She should have been a ballet dancer, the way she moved. Her toes were perfect, her toenails a hot pink, the skin of her foot smooth and tanned, bare except for a delicate leather sandal. “I’m sorry, Mo,” he mumbled.
    “You are always sorry.”
    Sorenson wondered briefly if she was referring to his nickname, but decided Mo wasn’t in a joking mood. Her voice, which normally reminded him of a sweet French melody, was as unmusical as he’d ever heard it.
    “I’m sorry doesn’t pay the bills, you know.” She turned away and crossed her arms over her chest, her shoulders stiff. She was looking out the kitchen window at the back yard, where Bruno and little Sasha took turns chasing each other with water pistols while Doobie the Doberman kept trying to catch the spray in his mouth.
    Sorry felt like a real shit, as he did every time he lost a job.
    Mo turned to face him again. “Go ask your boss to give you back the job.”
    Sorry looked up at her, then dropped his eyes to the floor again, where a fly was exploring a crumb of cheese that Doobie had somehow missed. “I can’t.” He had hoped this wouldn’t come out. “He yelled at me because I didn’t give him notice so I gave him the finger.” The look on her face made him tell the whole truth. “And I took off the company hat and pretended to wipe my ass with it and he told me to fuck off and never come back.”
    “Daniel!”
    The look on her face made him take a step backwards. He’d never seen her eyes flash like that before.
    “I think I could learn something from your boss,” she said. “Fuck off and never come back!”
    Sorry almost gasped. He’d never heard her talk like that either. “Mo… I…”
    She turned away again and stomped – gracefully, as always – out of the kitchen into the yard, slamming the door behind her. Through the window, Sorry saw the two kids stop their playing, startled. “What happened, Maman?” asked Bruno.
    Sorry was about to follow her out when he heard her answer.
    “Daddy is going away for awhile. He has some thinking to do.”
    “Can’t Daddy think at home?”
    “No, Bruno. It seems that he can’t.”
    “Where’s he going?”
    “Away.”
    “For how long?”
    Sorry saw her shrug.
    “Will he be back for my birthday?” Sasha would be eight – Sorry did a quick calculation – in about three weeks.
    “Maybe,” said Mo, and Sorry’s mouth fell open.
    He was shocked. Shocked and confused. Mo had never been angry like this with him before. She couldn’t mean it, could she? Was she kicking him out? How could she do that? Yes, he’d screwed up yet again, but she loved him, didn’t she? She was his woman. He had even married her.
    Sorry took a few deep breaths, debating whether to go out after her. He knew if he did something stupid, like maybe roughed her up, he would lose her and the kids forever. But she was his woman. His woman. He wasn’t a ‘yes, dear’ type of guy, and besides, he’d already said he was sorry. He began to think about what his biker buddies would say if they saw him crawling to her. Worse yet, if they knew he’d gone crawling back to his old boss.
    “Fuck it,” he said aloud, but not too loud. Then, “Fuck it!” loud enough that he saw her shoulders stiffen again. Then, “I’m outa here, bitch,” and he turned on his heel and headed for the garage. He grabbed some clean clothes from the laundry room as he passed by, and stuffed them in a canvas duffle bag that he hurriedly strapped behind the seat of his Harley.
    Moments later, he was heading for Highway 1, trying to feel nothing but the wind on his face, to think of nothing but the road beneath his wheels.

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