The Good Chase Read Online Free PDF

Santorini, for example. Then there were the many, many times he’d taken it upon himself to make or cancel her other private social events based on whether or not he approved, or whether or not they would advance him in the New York scene.
    And she’d always gone along without argument. Stupid girl. Stupid, spineless, clueless little girl.
    But she wasn’t that person anymore and, she supposed, when it came down to it, she had Marco to thank for that.
    â€œYou know,” he said, using that syrupy, direct eye contact that had swept her off her feet as a twenty-two-year-old bartender, “I really did just come in here to say hello, see what you’re up to.” He swept a gaze around the tent. “Surprised to see you here. You don’t belong behind the bar anymore. Don’t you have employees?”
    He would never understand her, what she truly wanted, why she’d left him. She sighed and let her arms drop to her sides. “Why did you really come in here, Marco?”
    â€œUh.” He actually had the acting chops to look sheepish. “I miss you?”
    â€œNo, you don’t.”
    â€œIt’s been a few years. Maybe I came at things between us the wrong way. Maybe things have changed.”
    â€œNothing’s changed. Believe me.” At least not with him. The man had sprung from an average childhood, but his sprint up the world’s real estate development ladder had wrung out his humanity.
    â€œShea.” As he shook his head at the ground, she noticed he had a hell of a lot more silver in his hair. He would be in his early fifties now. “Listen. When you’re done here this evening, why don’t you come over to my place? We could have a quiet drink as old friends. I built a new house over in Sagaponack.”
    â€œAh, I get it now. You got dumped.”
    â€œNo. That’s not it.”
    But the slack of his mouth told the truth.
    â€œShe’s coming back,” he added hastily.
    â€œOf course she is.” Shea laughed and turned to her precious bottles, the lovely things that had given her courage and purpose, and had finally allowed her to ask for the divorce. “New houses on the beach. Yachts in Greece. Those things don’t impress me, Marco.”
    â€œThey used to.”
    She whipped around. Stared him down. “I was young and dumb.”
    The sheepishness and humble pie died. Just vanished from his face. His posture straightened and tightened. “You know,” he said, “Shea Montgomery served on ice doesn’t taste very good.”
    â€œThat’s because you don’t like strong drinks. You like them all watered down.”
    He considered her with the flat stare she’d done such a great job of forgetting. “I’ll never get why you changed.”
    â€œI know, Marco. And that’s the sad part. Enjoy your new house.”
    His nostrils flared. “I will. Enjoy your . . . bar.”
    Bar
said, of course, like she owned a whorehouse.
    â€œI will. Because it
is
mine. And it’s more than you ever let me have.”
    He opened his mouth to defend himself, to say something awful like
I let you have everything. I gave you everything
, but she held up a hand to inform him of its pointlessness. Because when she’d left him, she’d made it a point not to take a dime from him. He had nothing to throw in her face.
    â€œHave fun at the rest of the games,” she said as pleasantly as possible, knowing full well he wasn’t going to stick around now that she’d shut him down. He’d come here specifically for the hunt. To him, she’d only ever been a conquest, a trophy.
    Never again.
    As expected, Marco turned and left.
    *   *   *
    B yrne toggled his keys, duffel bag, and laced-together cleats in one arm as he let himself into his apartment on East 84th. The door swung shut hard behind him, and he let everything drop in a heap. Little chunks of