Safe and Sound (The Safe House Series Book 3) Read Online Free
Author: Leslie North
as if he was. Max sighed and massaged his forehead as he sat back down in the chair across from Lola.
" Aww , do you have a headache?" Lola inquired in mock sympathy.
Max’s hand fell away. He met her glare with a diluted one of his own. If what she said was true, then she had every right to be angry at him. Max felt like he was playing multiple poker hands at multiple tables when he wasn't even clear about the rules of the game.
One problem at a time, he reminded himself. Once Baudin returned with Lola's handbag, it wasn't long before a very big problem asserted itself.
"What do you call this?" Max withdrew a snub-nosed Taurus revolver from Lola's bag. He checked to make sure it wasn’t loaded then dangled the weapon by its handle. "A little aggressive for first grade, wouldn't you say?"
Baudin perched cross-legged on the kitchen counter. The guy was taking the first opportunity of Max’s distraction to break every household rule that had been established, chief among them—his nasty-ass feet off of—well—everything.
"It’s a .357, but you would know that if you checked my permit," Lola snapped.
"I know it’s a .357," Max replied in an equally a sharp voice. "The question was rhetorical."
"Well, you can rhetorically find my permit and see for yourself." Lola winced at the inanity of her response. She continued anyway. "Perfectly legally. And if my profession as a first grade teacher calls that into question, remember that my brother is a cop."
Her purse rang.
Lola craned forward. "In fact, I bet that's him now. Ask him yourself."
Max searched Lola’s handbag for the phone. The inside proved to be a vast, bottomless chasm filled with all manner of crap. After a minute of hunting and producing nothing for his efforts, Max withdrew his hand.
The purse continued to vibrate and jingle.
"Merde," Baudin sighed as if he was praying for strength rather than cursing in French. "Dump it out already. Are we on a first date?"
"I've had worse, actually," Lola muttered.
Max overturned her bag and spilled its contents onto the table. He found the promised permit. He also found a packet of sweetener, a wallet, sunglasses, tweezers, candy bars, happy-face stickers, three rogue crayons, lipstick, enough Alka-Seltzer to surface a flotilla of meals and a collection of cat toys that seemed to only exacerbate the jingling of the woman's phone. He tossed the wallet over his shoulder to Baudin as he flipped open the outdated cell phone.
The screen lit up with the caller ID: Jack .
"Is it Jack?" said Lola.
Max said nothing.
"See, I told you he's looking for me."
Baudin enjoyed the hunt for evidence a little too much. His face alighted at a reel of laminated photos that unfolded from her wallet. For a moment, Max thought they might be photos of nude men for the exaggerated attention and appreciative whistle Baudin cast at the images.
"Are all of these cats yours?" Baudin asked with a straight face. " Un, deux, trois… six?"
"That's none of your business," snapped Lola, more red-faced than Max had seen her.
The phone rang again, drawing his attention away from the interrogation.
"Who is Eugenia?" he asked.
"My neighbor. She's probably calling because she needs something."
The woman shot glances between Max and Baudin, less spirited than before but no less cold. She appeared exhausted, near the end of her tether. Even when he had been uncertain of her motives, Max hadn't liked the way Lola's expression changed when he had necessarily withdrawn from her and began to first regard her with suspicion. Maybe it was the concussion, but the way she had first looked at him outside in the wreckage of her car, with implicit trust, had touched something in him. Now, she looked at him like he was someone from whom she needed saving.
“Enough, Baudin.” Max regretted bringing the man in on his investigation as if he actually trusted him. As if they were a team.
"Her identification checks out," Baudin replied as he tossed the
" Aww , do you have a headache?" Lola inquired in mock sympathy.
Max’s hand fell away. He met her glare with a diluted one of his own. If what she said was true, then she had every right to be angry at him. Max felt like he was playing multiple poker hands at multiple tables when he wasn't even clear about the rules of the game.
One problem at a time, he reminded himself. Once Baudin returned with Lola's handbag, it wasn't long before a very big problem asserted itself.
"What do you call this?" Max withdrew a snub-nosed Taurus revolver from Lola's bag. He checked to make sure it wasn’t loaded then dangled the weapon by its handle. "A little aggressive for first grade, wouldn't you say?"
Baudin perched cross-legged on the kitchen counter. The guy was taking the first opportunity of Max’s distraction to break every household rule that had been established, chief among them—his nasty-ass feet off of—well—everything.
"It’s a .357, but you would know that if you checked my permit," Lola snapped.
"I know it’s a .357," Max replied in an equally a sharp voice. "The question was rhetorical."
"Well, you can rhetorically find my permit and see for yourself." Lola winced at the inanity of her response. She continued anyway. "Perfectly legally. And if my profession as a first grade teacher calls that into question, remember that my brother is a cop."
Her purse rang.
Lola craned forward. "In fact, I bet that's him now. Ask him yourself."
Max searched Lola’s handbag for the phone. The inside proved to be a vast, bottomless chasm filled with all manner of crap. After a minute of hunting and producing nothing for his efforts, Max withdrew his hand.
The purse continued to vibrate and jingle.
"Merde," Baudin sighed as if he was praying for strength rather than cursing in French. "Dump it out already. Are we on a first date?"
"I've had worse, actually," Lola muttered.
Max overturned her bag and spilled its contents onto the table. He found the promised permit. He also found a packet of sweetener, a wallet, sunglasses, tweezers, candy bars, happy-face stickers, three rogue crayons, lipstick, enough Alka-Seltzer to surface a flotilla of meals and a collection of cat toys that seemed to only exacerbate the jingling of the woman's phone. He tossed the wallet over his shoulder to Baudin as he flipped open the outdated cell phone.
The screen lit up with the caller ID: Jack .
"Is it Jack?" said Lola.
Max said nothing.
"See, I told you he's looking for me."
Baudin enjoyed the hunt for evidence a little too much. His face alighted at a reel of laminated photos that unfolded from her wallet. For a moment, Max thought they might be photos of nude men for the exaggerated attention and appreciative whistle Baudin cast at the images.
"Are all of these cats yours?" Baudin asked with a straight face. " Un, deux, trois… six?"
"That's none of your business," snapped Lola, more red-faced than Max had seen her.
The phone rang again, drawing his attention away from the interrogation.
"Who is Eugenia?" he asked.
"My neighbor. She's probably calling because she needs something."
The woman shot glances between Max and Baudin, less spirited than before but no less cold. She appeared exhausted, near the end of her tether. Even when he had been uncertain of her motives, Max hadn't liked the way Lola's expression changed when he had necessarily withdrawn from her and began to first regard her with suspicion. Maybe it was the concussion, but the way she had first looked at him outside in the wreckage of her car, with implicit trust, had touched something in him. Now, she looked at him like he was someone from whom she needed saving.
“Enough, Baudin.” Max regretted bringing the man in on his investigation as if he actually trusted him. As if they were a team.
"Her identification checks out," Baudin replied as he tossed the
Readers choose
John Dechancie
S M Reine
Barbara Delinsky
John Ed Bradley
Penelope Lively
Rebecca Brooke
Robyn DeHart
Sasha Gold
juliet blackwell
Jillian Hart