Treacherous Read Online Free PDF

discuss it.”
    Mikey tugged the
duvet back. “No, let me look at you.” He examined her hair as though he were a
connoisseur of women’s hairstyles. “I like it. It’s like that movie star, what’s
her name? Hiawatha.”
    “Hathaway.
Anne Hathaway. You think?” Hayley tentatively touched the strange new arrangement
on her head.
    “You’re
prettier.”
    Hayley managed
a smile. “Thanks, Mikey.”
    “So how come
you got smashed?”
    “It’s a long
story.” She sat for a moment, hoping the room would stop spinning. “I don’t
feel so good. Do you think that grilled cheese thing works?”
    “Like a charm.”
    “Order me one
from the deli, would you? I’m going to take a shower. There’s money in my
purse.”
    “Speaking of
money—”
    “Don’t even
ask!” Hayley replied. “I emptied my savings account today. I can't help you
this time.”
    “I got myself
in a bit of a bind, or I wouldn’t ask.” Mikey gave her his most doleful smile.
    “I’m cleaned
out, Mikey. I’m not kidding. I barely have enough cash to get through the week.
Now order that cheese thing for me, before I die.”
    “Okay, okay.
Just asking,” he said. “You shower. I’ll order the cure for you.”
    Once Hayley
was in the bathroom, Mikey picked up her bag. He took out a twenty-dollar bill for
the sandwich. Glancing over his shoulder, to make sure she had closed the door,
he searched through her bag, until he found what he was looking for. Inside the
flap of her checkbook he found a stack of one-hundred-dollar bills, as he knew
he would. He removed four, stuffed them into his pocket, put the rest back in
the checkbook.
    “I’ll order
you a Coke, too. With lots of ice,” he called to the closed door and headed for
the phone.

ELEVEN
    Fiona
could not move, and she didn’t know why. She tried to sit up but something was
holding her down. Not an inanimate object, but something warm that carried with
it hope.
    The noise around
her was deafening.
    People were
screaming. Some were crying softly. Others prayed. She heard sirens, lots of
them. Men, somewhere in the distance, were shouting things she couldn’t make
out. The sound that was loudest of all was the creaking and grinding of twisted
metal, as the train carriage seemed to be moving, inching along toward what she had no idea.
    She coughed,
choking on the dust and smoke that filled the carriage, making it difficult to
see anything or breathe.
    “Fiona. Are
you all right?” The voice was so ragged, it took her a moment to make the
connection. Then she realized the rasping tones were actually the voice most
Americans connected with Luke Thompson. It was not as mellifluous as it usually
was.
    “I don’t know,”
she said, sounding like she’d swallowed gravel herself.
    “Move
carefully,” Luke said. “Very carefully.”
    When he pulled
himself off her it was only then that she realized Luke was the warm thing that had been holding her down, keeping her safe. Apparently he had thrown his
body on top of hers, to protect her from the shattered glass that was
everywhere. On the seats, under her body, in her hair.
    Fiona tried to
pull herself into a sitting position and realized the train was on its side. She
was not on the floor of the carriage, but on one of the few windows that had
not been shattered in the crash.
    It seemed just
minutes ago that she had been looking at the powerful Delaware River through
this very window. Now there was nothing but blackness where the window rested
on the rugged ground.
    Something was
brushing against her hair. She reached up to push whatever it was away, and discovered,
to her horror, that she was touching a hand. It was a cold, dead hand dangling at
an odd angle from the seat above her.
    Fiona began to
shake. A scream was forming deep inside her. Seeing panic overtaking her, Luke
slid down next to her, held her face in his strong hands. He looked straight
into her eyes.
    “Breathe. Just
breathe,” he instructed, his voice beginning to