Touch of Madness Read Online Free PDF

smile, and held out his hand. Instead of shaking it, I pulled him into a hug. It was awkward. I’m not really the “huggy” kind and I didn’t think he was either. But he needed comfort and it was the best I could do for him.
    “You’d better get out of here. Tom’s waiting.” He pulled back slowly. I let him go.
    “Are you going to be okay?” I caught his gaze and kept it.
    He didn’t dignify the question with a response, just gave me a sad smile and a gentle shove toward the door. I went, both because he wanted me to and because I was too awkward and chicken to know how to deal with such raw emotions.
    Tom was waiting in the hall just outside the door. Putting his hands on my waist, he looked me straight in the eyes. The kindness in his gaze warmed me to my toes, made me wonder, yet again, what I’d done to deserve this man.
    “How’d it go?”
    I gave a small shrug. “He blames himself.”
    “No surprise there.” Tom pulled me into his arms. I didn’t fight it. It felt so good to rest my head on his shoulder, feel his heart beating and listen to the soft, quiet hum that blocked out the angry voices in my head. I took a deep breath, inhaling the masculine scent of skin and soap. We were still standing like that when the police officers rounded the corner and said my name.
    “Excuse me, are you Mary Kathleen Reilly?”
    I stepped out of Tom’s embrace reluctantly, taking a small step back. Tom took my hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze.
    “That would be me.”
    There were two of them, both a few years older than me, probably thirty-five to my twenty-eight. Both wore suits that fit well enough and looked as though they got a fair amount of use. Not shabby, but not new either. The one on the left stood about five feet ten. He wore a tan suit with a brown belt and loafers. The color suited his sandy blond hair and hazel eyes. The man on the right was Italian-American. It showed in his olive coloring, his features, and somehow, in his attitude. I would be hard pressed to say how I could tell, but it was unmistakable, at least to me. And while they weren’t uniforms, and weren’t flashing their badges, it was just as obvious they were cops.
    “Could we have a word with you?” The blond gestured toward a wooden bench a short distance down the hallway.
    “May I ask what’s going on?” Tom’s voice was even, but I could feel the tension singing through his arm and the hand that held mine. Something about them was bothering him. Normally, I’ve learned to trust his supernatural instincts, but I let go of his hand instead, turning to rest it lightly on his chest. The gesture was meant to reassure him. I wasn’t sure it would work, but I knew that any more strain and he wouldn’t be able to hold onto his beast. The last thing he, I, or anyone else wanted was for him to change form in the middle of a crowded courthouse. Unlike most of the werewolves, he retained his personality, but that didn’t make changing unexpectedly a good thing. Nobody else in this hallway would know he was still himself. There could be a panic. With the rampant prejudice and fear that lycanthropes faced it wasn’t inconceivable that one of the officers might draw a weapon. There were far too many negative possibilities for me to be willing to risk it. I might not be armed with weapons, but I was still pretty good in a fight if it Came to it. But my psychic senses told me neither of the men were Thrall hosts.
    “We just want to ask Ms. Reilly a few questions.” The blond smiled as he said it, raising one hand in a placating gesture. But there was a tension in his body language that I didn’t like.
    “Fine. No problem,” I agreed. I started walking toward the bench they’d indicated earlier. Tom came with me. Apparently his willingness to let me handle things myself only went so far. For the life of me I couldn’t decide whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. But I didn’t have time to think too much about it.