Fourth Grave Beneath My Feet Read Online Free

the reasoning behind my sudden case of mild agoraphobia. I was
     so stupid.
    I took the lotion I’d been rubbing into my hands and smeared it across the mirror.
     White streaks distorted my face. A definite improvement.
    Growing more annoyed with myself by the second, I strolled to the window to see if
     my traitorous father was at work yet. He seemed to be coming in later and later. Not
     that I cared. Any man who would have his own daughter arrested while she lay dying
     in a hospital bed after being tortured almost to death didn’t deserve my concern.
     I was just curious, and curious was way on the other side of concern. But instead
     of seeing my father’s tan SUV, I caught sight of one Mr. Reyes Farrow, and my breath
     stilled in my chest. He was leaning against the back of Dad’s bar, arms folded at
     his chest, one booted foot leveraged against the building.
    And he was out.
    I knew he would be, but I had yet to see him. He’d been in prison for ten years for
     a crime he didn’t commit. The cops caught on when the guy he’d supposedly killed tied
     me up and tortured me. I was glad he’d been freed, but to get there, Reyes’d used
     me as bait, so we were once again at an impasse. I was mad at him for using me as
     bait. He was mad at me for being mad at him for using me as bait. Our relationship
     seemed to hinge on these impasses, but that’s what I got for falling in lust with
     the son of Satan. If only he weren’t so deliciously and dangerously hot. I had such
     a thing for bad boys.
    And this particular bad boy had been dipped in a lake of beauty when he was born.
     His arms corded with muscles across a wide chest; his full mouth, too sensual for
     my peace of mind, sat in a grim, moody line; his dark hair, forever in need of a trim,
     curled at his neck and tumbled over his forehead. And I could just make out his thick
     lashes as they fanned across his cheeks.
    A man walked past him and waved. Reyes nodded, but then he must have felt me watching
     him. He looked down in thought then up directly at me. His angry gaze locked on to
     mine, held it for a long, breathless moment, and then slowly, with deliberate purpose,
     he dematerialized, his body transforming into smoke and dust until there was nothing
     left of it.
    He could do that. He could separate from his physical body, and his incorporeal essence—something
     I could see as easily as I saw the departed—could go anywhere in the world it wanted
     to. That didn’t surprise me in the least. What surprised me was the fact that, while
     incorporeal, no one else could see him. But that man had waved. He’d seen Reyes standing
     there and waved. That meant his physical body had been leaning against that brick
     wall.
    That meant his physical body had dematerialized, had vanished into the cool morning
     air.
    Impossible.

 
    2
    Doing nothing is hard.
    You never know when you’re done.
    —T-SHIRT
    It took every ounce of strength I had to tear myself away from the window, wondering
     if Reyes Farrow had just dematerialized his human body. Then another thought hit:
     What the hell was he doing out there? And then another: Why was he so angry? It was
     my turn to be angry. He had no reason to be. And I would have told him that very thing
     if I’d felt any incentive to leave my apartment and hunt him down. But my apartment
     was cozy. The thought of leaving it just to get in a fight with the son of evil incarnate
     made about as much sense as flying ants. Where was the logic in that? Ants were scary
     enough without giving them the ability to fly.
    I walked into my living room, shaken and disoriented. “Reyes Farrow was outside. Just
     leaning against the bar. Watching the apartment.”
    Cookie jumped up. She gaped at me for about ten seconds before hurdling the couch
     and stumbling into my bedroom, nearly crashing through the window. She was almost
     agile where men were concerned. I didn’t have the heart to tell her she’d have had
     a