The Dead Girls' Dance Read Online Free Page B

repeated brightly, and brandished the stick again for emphasis. “So, no, he didn’t hurt us. We hurt him. You know, all alone. Without any help. Um, so…where’s your dad? He charges to the rescue pretty slow.’”
    Shane closed the door and locked it again as the biker in the hall groaned and rolled over on his side. He didn’t answer, which was answer enough. Shane’s dad needed his bikers more than he needed Eve or Claire. They were expendable. Worse, they’d probably just become rewards.
    â€œWe can’t stay here,’” Eve said. “It isn’t safe. You know that.’”
    Shane nodded, but he looked bleak. “I can’t come with you.’”
    â€œYes, you can! Shane—’”
    â€œHe’s my dad, Eve. He’s all I’ve got.’”
    Eve snorted. “Yeah, well, what you’ve got I’d give back.’”
    â€œSure, you just walked away from your folks—’”
    â€œHey!’”
    â€œDidn’t even care what happened to them—’”
    â€œ They didn’t care what happened to me !’” Eve almost shouted it. Suddenly, the hockey stick in her hands wasn’t so much for display. “Leave my family out of this, Shane—you don’t have a clue. Not a clue .’”
    â€œI’ve met your brother,’” Shane shot back.
    They both went quiet. Dangerously quiet. Claire cleared her throat. “Brother?’”
    â€œLeave it alone, Claire,’” Eve said. She sounded dead calm, not at all like herself. “You really don’t want to get into it.’”
    â€œBones in every family closet in Morganville,’” Shane said. “Yours rattle pretty loud, Eve. So don’t judge me.’”
    â€œHere’s a thought: why don’t you get the hell out of my room, you asshole !’”
    Shane picked up his crowbar, opened the door, and stepped outside. He reached down and hauled the biker to his feet, and shoved him toward the stairs. The biker went, still groaning and weaving.
    Claire peeked through the gap in the door until she was sure they were gone, then nodded to Eve, who dumped the hockey stick and opened the closet door. “Oh, crap,’” she sighed. “I hope nothing’s torn in there. It is not easy to get clothes in this town. Michael?’”
    Claire looked over her shoulder. A pile of black and red netting stirred, and Michael’s blond head appeared. He sat up, brushing off Goth, and silently held up a pair of black lace panties. Thong.
    â€œHey!’” Eve yelped, and grabbed them from his fingers. “Personal! And…laundry!’”
    Michael just smiled. For a guy who’d been stabbed, hacked up, and buried less than twenty-four hours ago, he looked remarkably composed. “I’m not even going to ask what you wore them with,’” he said. “It’s more fun to imagine.’”
    Eve snorted and gave him a hand up. “Shane’s taken our new boyfriend downstairs. What now? We can’t exactly shimmy down a drainpipe.’”
    â€œNot in fishnets, you can’t,’” he agreed, straight-faced. “Get changed. The less attention you attract from these guys, the better.’”
    Eve grabbed a pair of blue jeans from the floor of the closet, and a baby-doll T that must have been a gift; it was aqua blue, with a sparkle rainbow over the chest. Very not Eve. She glared at Michael and tapped her foot.
    â€œWhat?’” he asked.
    â€œGentlemen turn around. Or so I’ve heard.’”
    He faced the corner. Eve stripped off her spiderweb-lace shirt and the red top beneath, and stepped out of the red and black tartan skirt. The fishnets were garters— totally sexy. “Not a word,’” she warned Claire, and rolled them down. She didn’t take her eyes off of Michael. There was red burning hot in