Defending Angels Read Online Free Page B

hundred-plus pounds of dog on her chest and stomach and her astonishment, she couldn’t breathe. She placed both hands on the dog’s muscular chest and shoved hard. “You’re goin’ to screw up that leg! Will you get off !”
    Sasha stuck his nose under her arm and growled.
    Bree made a huge effort to pull herself together. “I’m close to losing my temper,” she said mildly. “I’m going to count to three. By the time I get there, you’d better settle down. ”
    Sasha brought his head up and panted heavily into her face. Bree found herself panting, too.
    Abruptly, the door buzzer shrilled. Sasha turned his head, hopped onto the rug, and limped to the front door, his ears pinned back. The buzzer sounded again. Bree got to her feet, tugged her T-shirt into place, and followed him. Her heart thudded hard in her chest and she was dismayed to find her legs trembly. There had been something horrible about that face. Just like the face in the graveyard. She took a deep, deliberate breath and quelled the impulse to root around in the closet for her baseball bat before she opened the door. She looked through the security hole. She snorted and looked down at the dog.
    “It’s the UPS man. Or woman, rather.”
    Sasha’s ears went up.
    “You might guess from the tone of my voice that I’m not all that pleased about your behavior. Now, the poor girl shouldn’t have tapped at the French doors like that, to be sure. But don’t you think you overreacted just a little bit?”
    Sasha’s tail wagged back and forth.
    “If you’re thinking that maybe I overreacted a bit, you’re darn right.”
    Sasha cocked his head.
    “Will you lie down and behave?”
    Sasha flopped awkwardly to the floor. Bree opened the door. The outside air was soft, damp, and smelled strongly of burnt matches. A large cardboard box sat on the doormat. The girl from UPS was already halfway down the walk, headed back to her truck. Bree called “thank you” after her retreating back.
    Hesitantly, she stepped onto the small cement square that served as a front porch, and peered into the dark. Nothing. Familiar noises from Market Street drifted up toward her. She rubbed both her arms, to drive off the unnatural cold, then picked up the box and brought it in.
    It was fairly heavy. When Bree shook it, the contents slid very little. She placed it on the dining room table. The address read: Brianna Winston-Beaufort, Esq, and the return address made her exclaim with pleasure. “Professor Cianquino,” she said. “You know who that is, dog? My law advisor, from Duke. He retired the same year I took the bar. He’s got a nice little apartment just outside Savannah, on the river. If you behave well enough for me to keep you around, you’ll meet him.”
    Sasha pawed at a dining room chair and poked his nose inquisitively into the air. Bree peeled the packing tape back from the edges and opened it.
    The contents were tightly packed. There was a small envelope on top, and a brand new cell phone still in the package. The rest of the box held stationery. She opened the envelope first. The card inside had Cianquino’s name embossed on the front: Armand Cianquino, Triad Professor of History of Law Emeritus. A line of small print at the bottom read: Act Uprightly, 5:11. The handwritten message inside merely said: So battle is enjoined, my dear Bree! With affection, Armand.
    Bree pulled the contents out, one by one. There were two reams of letterhead, a package of number ten envelopes, a shrink-wrapped set of preprinted address labels, and a hundred legal-sized envelopes with the return address on the upper left hand corners. She opened the small square box that held the business cards and looked thoughtfully at the design.

Brianna Winston-Beaufort 66 Angelus (555) 567-9561
    The font was attractive, if a little stuffy; a variety of Edwardian script, maybe. She wasn’t at all sure about the raised gold logo. Should a lawyer even have a logo? It was a pair of feathery