Red Skye at Night Read Online Free Page A

Red Skye at Night
Book: Red Skye at Night Read Online Free
Author: Ashe Barker
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
Pages:
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didn’t always intend to drive for a living, but it’s odd how things turn out sometimes. How the best laid plans can be overturned by some twist of fate, just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. In my case, I chose the wrong time to jog along Roundhay Road in preparation for the under-sixteens county trials. I was in serious training for the five thousand meters, and even though I say it myself, I should have been a decent prospect for London this summer if all had gone according to plan. A van driver turning right wiped out that glittering future when he hit me and broke my right leg in three places. I spent two months in traction and a further two on crutches. The medics at St. James’ hospital did a smashing job. There’s hardly any scarring where the surgeons pinned my femur back together. Intensive physiotherapy helped too, and these days I hardly limp at all. But competitive sport became a thing of the past as far as I was concerned. I’d do well to run for a bus, let alone my country. I’ll never compete as an athlete. I might still go to London, but as a spectator.
    I was just fifteen when I was run over, more than eight years ago now. It was my GCSE year and I missed those exams as well, though to be fair I hadn’t had especially high expectations. I’d always been into sport, always on the athletics track, never the academic type. I’d done the bare minimum necessary to get by and might have scraped a couple of Bs and Cs with a bit of luck and a good following wind, but I wasn’t interested. Sport was my future. Then suddenly it wasn’t and I had to think again.
    I sat my GCSEs the following year and did okay. I’d realized I needed those bits of paper after all so I made an effort. I’m good at that. I can set my mind to something when I have to. I had no idea what I would do with my life, but qualifications meant options, and I wanted some of those. Six Bs and an A in maths was good enough to get me into sixth form, and I left school with A levels in maths, English and geography. I decided to leave it at that. I may live among students but university is not for me—or at least not yet.
    The compensation for my accident paid for driving lessons and there was enough left for a clapped out Mini when I passed my test. I might have been able to wring more out of the van driver’s insurance company but I’d been wearing ear buds as I’d jogged and their legal advisers had claimed that I’d contributed to my own downfall. Personally I have always thought that was rubbish, but my solicitor had advised me to accept the out of court offer they’d made me, so here I am. It’s not too bad. I’m in one piece again, not far off solvent and gainfully self-employed. It’s a lot more than many can say these days.
    Now all I need to do is deliver Mr. Dusseldorf safely to the Queens Hotel, then I can get back to the airport and collect my next punter.
    The journey takes around forty minutes, and Mr. Dusseldorf makes no attempt at conversation. I don’t mind chatting with fares on occasions, but today I’m glad of the silence from the rear seat. I concentrate on the late afternoon traffic, threading my way easily through the city streets and gliding smoothly to a stop in the drop-off zone at the bottom of the steps leading to the hotel’s main entrance. I notice the red carpet, the sure signal that this evening will see some visiting dignitary arriving or a high-end dinner event. The Queens is one of the top venues in Leeds for such dos, a favorite haunt for the rich and privileged as they do their sparkly bit for charity.
    I turn to my passenger. “Queens Hotel. That’ll be twenty-seven pounds, please.”
    Mr. Dusseldorf nods and reaches into his jacket. His phone buzzes and he grabs that before his wallet, glancing at the screen.
    “Fuck.” The one word is delivered in a deep drawl. He frowns, glances back at me. “Excuse me.”
    I’m not sure if he’s apologizing for swearing, or if he
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