If Looks Could Kill Read Online Free Page A

a bitch, a horrible person. She should be happy for Kyle and Fallon. Kyle was her friend. He had helped her through the worst period of her life, so it was natural for her to feel a strange kind of dependency on him. It wasn’t a crush. She needed to appreciate Darryl. He was even-tempered. He adored her and was unfailingly considerate. He was handsome, built like a young Adonis. She did appreciate him.
    Together, they were perfect.
    She was with Darryl when she had the dream about Kyle and Fallon.
    It was terribly uncomfortable. It was almost as if she were with them. In their bedroom.
    Fallon was on her side of the bed, tossing and turning. She was hugely pregnant, round as a tomato, yet still beautiful, her blond hair a tangled fan around her delicate, pinched features. She was racked with pain.
    Kyle, at her side, was up, trying to help her, support her. “It must be the baby. We’ve got to get to the hospital.”
    â€œIt’s too soon, almost two months too soon!” Fallon cried.
    â€œBut you’ve been sick. We’ve got to get you there now.” He stood, naked. Muscled, tanned. In her dream, Madison tried to look away, but she couldn’t. It was as if she were there.
    He dressed hurriedly, eschewing socks and underwear, slipping into his jeans and a T-shirt, and sliding his feet into his loafers while he dialed the phone. Fallon was distressed that he’d called for an ambulance, but he told her, “Babe, you’re burning up. We need some help, fast.”
    Madison felt Fallon’s heat. She was burning, burning, burning…like a fire. But there wasn’t pain, there was just heat. And Kyle was there, holding her hand. Fallon was happy to feel his hand in hers, it was just that the heat was so terrible, and then she was shivering, hot and cold, hot and cold….
    â€œMadison, Madison!”
    She started, her eyes flying open. Darryl was shaking her awake, looking concerned.
    â€œMadison, honey, you’re having a nightmare. You have to wake up. Madison, what is it? What’s wrong?”
    She was soaked. She’d kicked the covers away. Darryl had his arms around her, and instinctively she clung to him in return.
    â€œWant to tell me about it?” he asked her.
    â€œNo, no, it was nothing. I’m okay. I, uh, thanks. Thanks, Darryl. You’re great.” She kissed him. But when he wanted to take it further, in his efforts to soothe her, she curled away from him, a nagging sensation of worry refusing to leave her.
    Three days later, a message from one of Kyle’s buddies at the FBI on their answering machine told her that her dream had been real. Fallon had died as the result of complications from a virus, along with her premature, stillborn daughter. The funeral was Friday, in Manassas, Virginia.
    Madison’s entire family attended the funeral. Her own father had always gotten along exceptionally well with Kyle and Rafe, and Jordan Adair and Roger Montgomery still remained friends. Darryl, naturally, attended with Madison.
    Kyle looked like hell. He wasn’t quite twenty-six, but he’d already acquired a few silver strands of hair at his temple. His grief was terrible. Madison felt numb.
    In church, she remained on her knees, head bowed, through most of the ceremony. She wondered if she might not be a terrible human being, if her jealousy might not have killed Fallon. The logical side of her brain tried to assure her that it couldn’t be so, but she still felt somehow responsible, and it was an incredibly bad feeling. She wanted to run away.
    She had only a few moments alone with Kyle. He came to her while she was kneeling by the coffin during the family’s last viewing.
    He knelt at her side, and she tried very hard not to cry while he adjusted the prayer book in his dead wife’s hands. “At the end, she told me that you knew,” he said suddenly. He stared at her in a way that gave her chills. “She said you