Hush, Hush #1 Read Online Free

track lighting illuminated several poker tables, all in use. Cigar smoke almost as thick as the fog enveloping my house clouded the low ceiling. Nestled between the poker tables and the bar was a row of pool tables. Patch was stretched across the one farthest from me, attempting a difficult bank shot.
    “Patch!” I called out.
    Just as I spoke, he shot his pool stick, driving it into the table-top. His head whipped up. He stared at me with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
    The cashier clomped down the steps behind me, vising my shoulder with his hand. “Upstairs. Now.”

    27
    Patch’s mouth moved into another barely-there smile. Hard to say if it was mocking or friendly. “She’s with me.”
    This seemed to hold some sway with the cashier, who loosened his grip.
    Before he could change his mind, I shook off his hand and weaved through the tables toward Patch. I took the first several steps in stride, but found my confidence slipping the closer I got to him.
    I was immediately aware of something different about him. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but I could feel it like electricity. More animosity?
    More confidence.
    More freedom to be himself. And those black eyes were getting to me.
    They were like magnets clinging to my every move. I swallowed discreetly and tried to ignore the queasy tap dance in my stomach. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something about Patch wasn’t right. Something about him wasn’t normal. Something wasn’t … safe.
    “Sorry about the hang-up,” Patch said, coming beside me. “The reception’s not great down here.”
    Yeah, right.
    With a tilt of his head, Patch motioned the others to leave. There was an uneasy silence before anybody moved. The first guy to leave bumped into my shoulder as he walked past. I took a step back to balance myself and looked up just in time to receive cold eyes from the other two players as they departed.
    Great. It wasn’t my fault Patch was my partner.

    28
    “Eight ball?” I asked him, raising my eyebrows and trying to sound completely sure of myself, of my surroundings. Maybe he was right and Bo’s wasn’t my kind of place. That didn’t mean I was going to bolt for the doors. “How high are the stakes?”
    His smile widened. This time I was pretty sure he was mocking me. “We don’t play for money.”
    I set my handbag on the edge of the table. “Too bad. I was going to bet everything I have against you.” I held up my assignment, two lines already filled. “A few quick questions and I’m out of here.”
    “Jerk?” Patch read out loud, leaning on his pool stick. “Lung cancer? Is that supposed to be prophetic?”
    I fanned the assignment through the air. “I’m assuming you contribute to the atmosphere. How many cigars a night? One? Two?”
    “I don’t smoke.” He sounded sincere, but I didn’t buy it.
    “Mm-hmm,” I said, setting the paper down between the eight ball and the solid purple. I accidentally nudged the solid purple while writing Definitely cigars on line three.
    “You’re messing up the game,” Patch said, still smiling.
    I caught his eye and couldn’t help but match his smile—briefly.
    “Hopefully not in your favor. Biggest dream?” I was proud of this one because I knew it would stump him. It required forethought.
    “Kiss you.”
    “That’s not funny,” I said, holding his eyes, grateful I didn’t stutter.

    29
    “No, but it made you blush.”
    I boosted myself onto the side of the table, trying to look impassive. I crossed my legs, using my knee as a writing board. “Do you work?”
    “I bus tables at the Borderline. Best Mexican in town.”
    “Religion?”
    He didn’t seem surprised by the question, but he didn’t seem overjoyed by it either. “I thought you said a few quick questions. You’re already at number four.”
    “Religion?” I asked more firmly.
    Patch dragged a hand thoughtfully along the line of his jaw. “Not religion … cult.”
    “You belong to a