Vision Impossible Read Online Free PDF

.”
    “What?” said Cat.
    “What?” said Dutch.
    I stood up from the bed. “Will you two stop that?!”
    “Stop what?” said Cat. “And who else are you talking to?”
    Dutch was eyeing me moodily from the door.
    “Cat, I gotta go,” I said. I hung up the phone and flashed my fiancé a big ol’ smile. It worked about as well as the last time I’d used it.
    “Why can’t you get married to me in October?”
    My smile faded. “It isn’t that I can’t get married to you specifically,” I said. “I can’t get married to anyone in October.”
    Dutch crossed his arms. “Anyone? You mean you’re fielding other offers?”
    I shook my head. “No! I don’t mean anyone-anyone. I meant . . . I mean . . . the thing is . . .”
    “You don’t want to get married to anyone, including me?” he said, and I could hear the hurt in his voice.
    I lifted my chin and yelled, “Aaaaagh! Why are you taking me so literally?!”
    “Why are you telling me now of all times that you want to back out?”
    I glowered at Dutch, really glowered at him. And then I marched over, placed my palms on his shoulders, and said, “Cowboy, you just don’t get it, do you?”
    He didn’t say anything, which was probably wise, so I continued. “I don’t want to marry you in six months because it’s only six months to plan the most amazing day of my life. The day I get to be Mrs. Dutch Rivers, and sugar, I want that day to be so perfect that I just don’t think I can rush it.”
    Dutch’s granite expression cracked into the most amazing smile and he curled his arms around me, pulled me close, and said, “Well, why didn’t you just say so, dollface?”
    He kissed me long and deep then, and I went with it. Later, when we were curled up in bed, he said, “How about November?”
    I laughed. “Push, push, push,” I said. “Why the rush, anyway?”
    “I like November,” Dutch replied. “It’s a great month to get married. Not too cold. Not too hot.”
    “It’s too soon,” I told him.
    “Then when?”
    I sighed and turned to spoon against him. “I don’t know. . . . Maybe next summer?”
    “Too long,” he said.
    I closed my eyes. I was so exhausted I could barely talk. “Later,” I told him. “We’ll set the date later.”
    I was fast asleep soon after, but I didn’t stay that way for long. My dreams were moody and turbulent, filled with poisonous darts and the feeling of being chased. And then, I had the worst nightmare of all. I dreamed that I was free-falling from a very great height. There was no indication of what I’d fallen off . . . a bridge maybe? All I knew was that the landscape came rushing up to greet me and there was nothing to slow me down. The moment I struck was the same moment I sat straight up in bed with a loud gasp.
    “Edgar?” Dutch asked, using his favorite pet name for me, after famed psychic Edgar Cayce.
    “I’m okay,” I told him, still breathing hard.
    He mumbled something and took my hand, holding it to his chest. I could feel the beat from his heart against my palm. More than anything, that helped to calm me down, but it was a long time before I actually got back to sleep.
     
     
    T he next day Dutch and I were separated. This bothered me for a whole lotta reasons, but I didn’t want to let it show. . . . That worked for all of two seconds and then I started shrieking at the poor guy who came to deliver that piece of news. “What do you mean, you’re splitting us up?!”
    “Abs,” Dutch said cautiously.
    “I don’t want to be separated, Dutch! You’re supposed to be my partner! These guys freak me out with their poison darts and their pings and their superspy stuff!”
    “Ms. Cooper,” said the agent who’d suggested the idea. “There are certain aspects to your preparation for this mission that will be redundant for Agent Rivers, and there are certain aspects to his briefings that it would not benefit you to know.”
    “Like what?” I challenged. I can be a real pistol