Blood Relations Read Online Free Page A

tight abs. He was small set but very well put together with a nicely defined musculature—and not to mention healthy libido. Just the sight of Craven was arousing him, but he had to leave. He had to get back to work (well, she’d been a work out, but he meant real work).
    He’d gotten plenty of information out of her ... plenty to work with. If nothing else, he knew Allen Roman was in the city.
    She licked her lips, noticing his thick manhood rising. She curled her finger for him to come to her, to please her again. But he stood his ground. He needed just a few more answers, first. “Fine.” she acquiesced. “Yes, sometimes I work for cash—such as in this case. It was a lot of cash, so I said, ‘Yes, I’ll perform the transplant outside my hospital’s insurance network.’ Sure, it’s kinda ...” she wavered her hand side to side, “unethical, but, I am licensed so—”
    â€œWhere? I mean where would you do this ‘unethical’ stuff? You can’t possibly find hospitals to let you ...” Ovan stopped speaking at the sight of her stalking toward him on all fours, like a cat. Her large breast dangled, swaying hypnotically back and forth. He gulped air.
    â€œNo. I have a cabin, in Oregon. It’s set up—”
    â€œYou perform procedures as complicated as organ transplants in your cabin?” he asked, fighting the two brains—one that ruled each of his heads.
    â€œSometimes. I have a partner, but sometimes it’s just better to work ... how should I put it?” She put her finger to her lip and then grinned, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “Alone. Cash and carry. My cabin is out in the middle of nowhere, so yeah, we do surgeries there.” Craven’s smile resembled a naughty teenage girl caught in the bathroom with a cigarette. “I guess it’s illegal but whose gonna tell? You? It doesn’t really seem like you’re the type of law man who sticks real close to the book. Besides, I do what I do when someone needs me to do it and I do it well—no complaints. Like now, I know you need me to perform an emergency procedure on that right there. It looks painful.” She pointed at his lower anatomy. “And I’m ready, willing, and able to take care of that ... no charge.” She winked.
    â€œWhat about your partner? What’s his take on this whole thing?”
    â€œHoney, my partner wouldn’t enjoy this as much as I would. Trust me, he ain’t hap-hap-happnin’ like you are,” she giggled.
    â€œI didn’t mean this ...” Ovan stammered. “I meant ... never mind. You’re one wicked woman. What’s his name?” Ovan said, fighting the pull of her eyes.
    â€œNow, come on, Ovan, you want to know too much. First you wanted to know who’s paying me. Now you want to know my partner’s name. It’s just too much. Next you’ll want to know where I put the money that dude gave me as a retainer and directions to the cabin. Besides, I just told you my partner’s name—you were not listening,” she whined, rising to her knees and wriggling her tight body, giving her breasts and hair a hearty shake while running her hands over her flat stomach, as if she was growing uncomfortable in her own skin. Craven looked Ovan over from head to toe and took in air deeply, wantonly. She was getting antsy now. She was done talking business. Ovan was not too tall, lean, and rather wiry, which came in handy at times like this. Many people were taller than him and therefore underestimated him, especially women. Some said he looked a lot like the performer Prince, which he often used to his advantage—his large bedroom eyes and long lashes gave him a look of innocence that was sorely misinterpreted. He was far from innocent, and as far as any other resemblances to Prince, well, he wasn’t that vocally talented either.
    Craven had gotten out of