Some Kind of Magic Read Online Free Page A

need? Food? Money?” Claire wanted him out of there as quickly as possible.
    “I changed my mind. I’m not leaving.”
    “What?”
    “Not leaving."
    “You said you’d leave if I got you some clothes.”
    “I lied.”
    She shouldn’t have been surprised.
    “Get me some rope.”
    “Rope?” She shook her head. “Oh, I’m sure I don’t have anything like that around. I wouldn’t have any use for rope. Never use rope.”
    He cast a quick glance around the room, his gaze falling to the floor where an extension cord trailed to a nearby table lamp. He took three steps, bent, and unplugged the cord at both ends, then began moving in her direction.
    She shook her head, her eyes locked with his. “Don’t tie me up. Please don’t tie me up."
    “Come on. Hands behind your back.”
    “Hallie! Attack!” Claire pointed at the dog’s supposed prey.
    Sleepy from the unaccustomed heat, Hallie just thumped her tail against the floor.
    “Get him! Get him, girl!”
    Hallie got to her feet and stood there smiling, her tail wagging, but Claire could tell she wanted nothing more than to lie back down. How could she not understand the urgency of the situation? Weren’t dogs supposed to have a sixth sense?
    Claire gave up and tried another tactic. “I— uh ... I have to go to the bathroom.”
    He was looking at her in a disgusted manner. As if he’d heard that line a million times.
    “I do.”
    She shifted from one foot to the other, to prove her point. The problem was, now that she thought about it, she did have to go. She recalled the beer she’d drunk at The Brewery. Looking back, it seemed like days ago, but her bladder had a different spin on it.
    Bored and thankful to be out of the limelight, Hallie returned to her spot near the door, circled a few times, then lay back down.
    “If you remember correctly,” she said, “I was at a tavern. I had a couple of beers. You know how beer goes through you.”
    Finally something he seemed able to relate to. “Okay.” He pulled the gun from the waistband of his pants and motioned her away. "But I’m coming along. And no shutting the door.”
    She stared at him, dumbfounded. No way was she going to the bathroom with him watching her.
    “If you’re afraid I’m going to get turned on by some mothball-smelling woman taking a pee, you’re nuts. Go on.” He motioned with the gun again.
    She really had to go. Bad.
    “Okay, but keep your back to me. Don’t look.”
    “Believe me. You don’t have anything I want to see.”
    He kept guard at the bathroom door, his body slightly turned to the side, his back not completely toward her. But it would have to do. At least he’d returned the gun to his waistband.
    “You’re not from around here,” she said, trying to dredge up some form of conversation while she gingerly pulled down her pants, all the while keeping an eye on his back while concentrating on quickly getting the job done. “I’m not from around here either.” Finished, she quickly pulled up her long underwear and jeans.
    “Don’t try to suck up to me.”
    “I’m not— Don’t turn around!”
    Claire took a quick inventory of the sink. A can of deodorant and some hairspray she hadn't used in a month. She took a silent step to the left. Then another. She paused, then grabbed the deodorant, finger to the nozzle. Before she could chicken out, she jumped at him, holding down the button, the can aimed at his face, at his eyes. She let out a scream as she scored a direct hit. She continued to press the button, screaming in terror at his possible—probable—retaliation as the fog of spray hit him.
    He let out a surprised yelp of his own. Or rather a cry of agony. Bent at the waist, he pressed the heels of both hands to his eyes.
    She dropped the deodorant and bolted past him, knocking into him as she went. Two steps later, she was being tackled to the ground, the air rushing from her lungs as she made contact with the wooden floor, stomach first.
    “Son of a