Running Hot Read Online Free Page A

concentrated on Ray first. Flower Shirt was the most obnoxious person within range but Ray was the most unpredictable. The seething, barely controlled craziness showed clearly in the murky hues and erratic pulses of his aura. The most alarming stuff took the shape of sickly, greenish-yellow filaments that flashed and disappeared in no discernible pattern. The tendrils gathered strength rapidly as Ray’s frail grasp on reality started to weaken. He slid rapidly into his uniquely paranoid universe.
    “Keep away from me,” Ray said softly.
    A smart man, hearing that voice, would have backed off immediately, but Flower Shirt grinned, unaware that he was about to let a very unstable, unpredictable genie out of its bottle.
    “Don’t worry, Surfer Bum,” he said. “The last thing I want to do is get too close to you. Might catch whatever diseases you picked up from those tourists you service.”
    Ray started to rise, muscled shoulders bunching beneath his ripped T-shirt. Luther was less than two feet away now. He concentrated on the unwholesome greenish-yellow spikes of energy that snapped and cracked in Ray’s aura. With exquisite precision—mistakes often had extremely unpleasant consequences—he generated a wave of suppressing energy from his own aura. The pulses resonated with Ray’s in a counterpoint pattern. The green-yellow tendrils of energy weakened visibly.
    Ray blinked a few times and frowned in confusion. Luther tweaked his aura a little more. With a sigh, Ray lost interest in Aloha Shirt. Suddenly exhausted, he sank back down into his chair.
    “Why don’t you finish your beer?” Luther said to him. “I’ll take care of this.”
    “Yeah, sure.” Ray looked at the bottle on the table. “My beer.”
    Grateful for direction in the midst of the overwhelming ennui, he picked up the bottle and took a long swallow.
    Deprived of his prey, Flower Shirt reacted with spiraling rage. His face scrunched up into a snarl. He leaned to one side and peered around Luther.
    “Hey, I’m talking to you, Surfer Asshole,” he yelled at Ray.
    “No,” Luther said, using the same low voice he had employed with Ray. “You’re talking to me. We’re discussing the fact that you would like to leave now.”
    Flower Shirt’s aura was a lot more stable than Ray’s. That was the good news. The bad news was that the colors were those of frustration and fury.
    The politically correct view of bullies was that they suffered from low self-esteem and tried to compensate by making other people their victims. As far as Luther was concerned, that was pure bull. Guys like Flower Shirt felt superior to others and lacked all traces of empathy. Bullies bullied not out of some unconscious desire to try to compensate for their low self-esteem. They did it because they could and because they enjoyed it.
    The only way to stop a bully was to scare him. The species had a strong sense of self-preservation.
    There was nothing tricky or mysterious about the wavelengths of energy in Flower Shirt’s pattern. The hot rush of the man’s unchecked lust for verbal abuse spiked and pulsed very clearly. Luther generated the suppressing patterns. The compelling urge to hurt and dominate Ray died instantly beneath the heavy, crushing weight of exhaustion but Flower Shirt was already on his feet, turning his attention to Luther.
    “Get out of my way, bartender, unless you want a fist in your face.”
    He grabbed Luther’s arm, intending to shove him aside. That was a mistake. Physical contact intensified the force of the energy that Luther was using.
    Flower Shirt swayed a little and nearly lost his balance. He grabbed the edge of the table to keep himself upright.
    “What?” he got out. “I think I’m sick or something.”
    “Don’t worry about the bill,” Luther said. He took hold of Flower Shirt’s arm and steered him toward the door. “The drinks are on the house.”
    “Huh?” Flower Shirt shook his head, unable to focus. “Wh-what’s