Mystic Hearts Read Online Free

step.
    His
focus on Charlene dug under Larry’s skin. “You’re gonna stay away from the
house?”
    “You
don’t live here anyways.”
    The
gangster slang returned. Interesting .
“As far as you’re concerned I do. Tell your crib, FBI is watching.
    “You
big fuzz?”
    Larry
hadn’t heard anyone call the Bureau big fuzz. Other choice words, yes. “You
bet.”
    “If
I stay away, you gonna take these off?”
    Larry
thought about his good friend Paul England’s worried phone call, insisting odd
lights in the manor’s front field had to be the work of criminals, and tried to
figure out if Mathews fit into the equation. His gut said Mathews was up to no
good, yet he believed the feeling was directed more toward Mathews watching
Charlene than the mysterious lights flashing on the hillside. “Yes,” Larry
barked, sick the decision felt wrong and pissed to have no reason to hold him.
    ****
    Rage
boiled in Mathews’s blood. How dare the big fuzz order him to leave? He stormed
down the field toward the barn where he’d parked the four-wheeler.
    I’ll show that
agent.
    Low
man on the totem pole within the gang, Mathews still had a card to play to make
the FBI quake, and make the other members of the Impalers give him the respect
he deserved.
    His
back seared from the agent watching him. He wanted to flip him off, but why
bother? The chicken-shit would just arrest him. Not that the law would be able
to hold him, his alias was clean. Still, he couldn’t afford any attention, not
if he wanted to earn Charlene’s trust.
    The
picnic basket had been a beautifully laid out idea. The laced wine would aid
her into seeing strange apparitions. The banging and knocking he made upstairs
set everything into motion, scaring her. He waited for the wine to reach its
full effect so he could make his move. She would be so scared she’d need
someone to protect her. Who knew what that protection would entail? Naked
between sheets, he hoped.
    The
plan executed perfectly until the damn son-of-a-bitch showed up. The desire in
the agent’s gaze when he watched Charlene through the window formed a knot in Mathews’
stomach.
    The
agent was an obstacle he hadn’t counted on and couldn’t afford. Mathews never
shot anyone. Maybe it was time. He’d find the agent alone, away from the only
person who could identify him, and take him out.
    Mathews
climbed onto the seat of the four-wheeler, started the engine, and stared at
the one-room schoolhouse. Charlene walked toward it and toward big fuzz. Her
unsteady gait, a sign the drug took effect. Any minute, the agent would hear
her. He’d be her rescuer.
    His
gut burned.
    Fuck!
     

 
    Chapter Two
     
    The
surprise of the raised voices propelled adrenaline through Charlene’s veins.
Two people, near the schoolhouse, stood and argued.
    The
voice that melted her insides on the mountain that awful day drifted toward
her.
    Larry?
    Heart
racing, she stumbled by the boxwood bushes, and fell to the ground beneath
them. The limbs encased her as if they were prickly tentacles, scratching her
arms and scraping her cheeks.
    “Whoa!”
She braced a hand on the dirt and lifted herself on unsteady legs. Her
surroundings passed by her as if she rode a merry-go-round. Waiting for the
ride to slow, she held onto the bush’s skinny branches, swayed, and focused on
the porch.
    When
it did, her vision changed. She gazed at the fragmented porch and distorted
steps as if she looked through a kaleidoscope. The wine’s effects played havoc
with her senses. Playful as if a young child, she lifted her arms to her sides,
shoulder level.
    “You’re
gonna stay away from the house?” Larry’s commanding voice boomed. She looked in
the direction of the sultry tone that heated her blood.
    Someone
else spoke, but she couldn’t hear what was said.
    The
desire to see Larry grew stronger. As if walking a tightrope and not a wide
sidewalk, she placed a foot in front of the other.
    The
voices ceased. She paused, looked down