Wicked Prayer Read Online Free PDF Page A

didn’t know. But she knew one thing: those expectations were about to be met. One way or another.
    If only Dan had arrived before the intruders. He would have known what to do as soon as the couple entered the trading post. He would have grabbed the sawed-off shotgun Leticia kept tucked away under the counter and—
    The woman named Kyra turned from the front window. In the glow of glass-filtered moonlight, her hair spilled down her slim shoulders like crimson-black streams of blood. “Looks like luck is with us tonight," she said. “The cowboy’s not interested in the car. He’s heading this way.”
    “All right,” Church said. “Now we’ll get down to business.”
    Leticia glanced through the window. It was just as the darkhaired woman had said. Dan had turned away from the vintage Mercury and was coming toward the trading post.
    A few more ticks of the clock and his hand would be on the door. He would push it open without bothering to knock, and the wind chimes tied to the handrail would clink musically as Dan entered the trading post. He wouldn’t even notice Johnny Church standing there behind the greeting cards, wouldn’t pay any attention to the woman standing in the shadows. He wouldn’t notice either of them, not with a dozen roses in his hand.
    Roses, Leticia knew, that were for her.
    Roses, Leticia knew, that could only mean one thing to a man like Dan Cody.
    Leticia felt sick. She knew exactly what the roses meant. The same way she knew what the bag of scorpions meant. But it wouldn’t make a difference. Not tonight. None of it would matter at all. By the time Dan noticed the terror shining in Leticia’s eyes it would be too late—
    “C’mon,” Kyra coaxed. “Hurry up, cowboy.”
    Leticia swallowed hard. Maybe she should try for the shotgun. She could try to take out both intruders. But they were on opposite sides of the store. If she missed Johnny Church, which she probably would— given her sweaty hands and raw nerves—Kyra would splatter her brains all over the woven Navajo tapestry that hung behind her head.
    Wait.
    The scorpions —
    Leticia let her glance fall on the display box that stood behind the cash register. Twenty scorpions lurked there, each one with its stinging barb raised and ready to strike, each one encased in plastic resin.
    The scorpion paperweights were Leticia’s most popular item. Tourists loved them. Leticia’s dad, despite his arthritic fingers, kept himself busy casting the critters, but he was too old to collect them anymore.
    Dan Cody played scorpion wrangler when he had the chance, scouring the salt wash plains and yawning canyons on cool, dark nights with little more than a black light, a pair of long-tipped stainless steel forceps, a canvas bag, and a whole lot of persistence. Dan had presented Leticia with a thousand of the wriggling creatures the first time he’d asked her out—two hundred and twenty-five dollars’ worth in a glass jar, all wrapped up with a fat red ribbon. Without the scorpions to back him up, he probably never would have summoned the courage to ask her out at all.
    Sure, roses would have been a lot more romantic than a thousand venomous arthropods—red ribbon or no red ribbon. But as Leticia Hardin had learned, roses meant something special to Dan Cody—
    But Leticia didn’t have time for memories. Not now. If she spent too much time in the past, her future would turn to dust. What she had to do was warn Dan. Before he came any closer, before his strong, tanned hands touched the handrail and he pushed the door open, before those wind chimes rang out like tiny screams in the night.
    There was only one way to do that.
    Leticia’s right hand moved toward the display cabinet by the cash register.
    This time, her hand didn’t shake.
    This time, her hand was steady.
    Leticia’s fingers closed over a large, heavy paperweight. She held the paperweight tight, tighter, until the scorpion trapped within it would—had it not been frozen