Nest of Vipers (9781101613283) Read Online Free Page B

rock back and forth with a dead woman in his arms. He stepped inside and walked over to Brad. He put a hand on his shoulder but knew that it was little comfort to a man in the terrible grip of grief.
    He lifted his hand and squatted next to Brad. He saw the slash in the woman’s neck, the dull frost on one open eye. The sight tore at him, and his throat constricted as bile roiled in his stomach and tears stung his eyes.
    â€œJoe,” Brad said. “She’s dead. My Felicity is dead.”
    Blaine could not bring himself to speak. His throat ached with every muscle in his neck taut and turning to cold iron.
    â€œI—I can’t let her go,” Brad sobbed. “I just can’t let her go.”
    Brad crumpled over, and Felicity’s head touched the floor. Brad fell across her naked midriff and let the tears rush down his face. She was ice cold and her body was turning stiff, and his nostrils filled with the smell of blood. Filled with the terrible aroma of death.
    Blaine saw the torn blue nightgown and the coagulating pool of blood on the floor. He could not look at the dead woman, nor at Brad. He was sick to his stomach and powerless to offer any comfort by either word or deed. So he stood there, like a mourner at a funeral. He did not know Brad’s wife at all, and he had just begun to know something about Brad himself. It was not a good start to a friendship.
    Brad got to his feet, bent over, and lifted the body of Felicity in his arms.
    â€œI’m going to take her to our bedroom,” Brad said huskily.
    Blaine nodded. “If there is anything I can do?” he said.
    â€œNo. I’ll take care of her. I’m going to wash and dress her.”
    â€œBrad, I’m sorry. So sorry.”
    Brad choked and couldn’t speak. He carried Felicity down the hall. He saw the coffeepot and the spilled coffee that had stained the flooring.
    She must have been in the kitchen when they came in on her, he thought. He entered the bedroom and laid his wife’s body on the unmade bed. He closed her eyes with his fingers and began to weep softly as he looked at her frail naked body, the horrible gash in her throat.
    As he stood there, his grief slid away and a slow anger began to boil in him. The anger was on the verge of developing into full-blown rage, but he calmed himself and turned away and walked out to the hallway. He picked up the coffeepot and walked into the kitchen.
    He looked at the cupboard that was directly opposite the hallway.
    There was a bullet hole in the cabinet door. He walked over, opened it, and saw the shattered plates. There was another hole at the back of the cupboard.
    His heart chilled.
    In his mind’s eye he could picture Felicity in the kitchen, with a pot of coffee in her hand. She had walked down the hall and someone had fired a shot over her head. She must have been terrified. But she would have fought the man who attacked her. Man or men. She would have fought to the death, and that is probably what had happened.
    His anger boiled up again and he had to take a deep breath to keep his rage in check.
    He forced himself to pick up kindling next to the stove and open the iron door. There were coals inside, and he laid the sticks of wood over these, then bent down to blow on the embers.
    A lick of flame appeared and he blew on it some more until the wood caught and flames ranged over the entire stack of kindling.
    He found a pot in one of the lower cupboards and set it on the counter. He lifted the water pitcher and felt its weight. He poured some water into the kettle and set it on the stove.
    Just then, he heard a commotion in the front room. He peered down the hall.
    Julio stomped in with Pilar. Blaine rose to meet them, and Brad saw their shadowy silhouettes blend and separate. He heard Blaine speak in low tones to the couple.
    Then, he heard Pilar let out a scream of anguish.
    A moment later, she ran down the hall and stopped at the bedroom door.
    She