Gridlocked Guesthouse (Locked House Hauntings Book 1) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Mixi J Applebottom
concentration in her eyes as she gently ran her fingers on the box, pressing softly at it as if there would be a hidden button. He also, as she was distracted, took a moment to stare at her ample bosom.
Her eyes flickered up to his for a moment, while he was staring through the box into her deep cleavage line. She blushed and looked back down. I don't know if she thought he was looking at the box, or if she knew secretly in her heart that he was starting to lust for her. But either way, they were having a pleasant time in the safe room.
Ricky and Rachel sat at the dining room table with the still barely breathing Rafael. Lucy was right, he was definitely toeing the line between life and death for this role. It had been completely unnecessary to drug him, but he was a twenty-one-year-old man-boy wanting to impress everyone. Especially Lucy. He wanted her to see how damn dedicated he was to being a professional actor. It was something they continued to bicker about. When they met, last year, he was still planning on being an engineer. He was a responsible grown man who wanted to provide for a wife someday--but then, something changed within him. He joined a play and realized his true calling was the arts. Why would he sit at a desk all day crunching the dull boring numbers over and over again? His entire life would just be calculating airflow in yet another room. That wasn't how he wanted to live.
He wanted more. He wanted a bright happy new role to play, he wanted to breathe and create and be beautiful. No more of this desk work. Nothing like that anymore. He still craved to be a stable, supportive man, but he also needed to create.
Okay, now if I'm honest, I don't know all of that. I don't really know him, other than Lucy made it pretty damn clear that he had switched from a family-feeding engineer program to a wild goose chase as an actor. So I am guessing I'm pretty on the money with his internal stuff. Either way, he was out cold, in the dining room. Let me tell you where everyone else was.
Mike, Ben, John, and Beezer had gone up to the master bedroom. They had been slowly and pleasantly searching the dressers and the bed. Mike kept holding up the nearly white paint chip to different creamy objects, but so far, he hadn't found a match. Ben found a small shoebox with several dirty pictures of Mr. And Mrs. Jamison. The boys were hooting and hollering at the photographs. The Mrs. was dressed in silky, sexy getups, and the Mr. was wearing a facemask. Beezer kept pointing at her cross-eyed nipples while Ben snorted with laughter. "Do you think this is Rachel and Ricky all dressed up?"
Beezer retorted, "I guess they needed a little R and R, if you know what I mean!" His laughter bubbled across the hallway to Tiffany and Mikaela; they were searching the twins' room. They weren't very good searchers. Honestly, I think they got distracted with the first thing they found and completely forgot to search the rest of the room.
The first thing they found was a stuffed animal sitting in the crib, and it did, in fact, match the paint chip the girls were holding. It wasn't the item that Rachel had planted, it wasn't a clue. A red herring, so to speak. They were both holding it, though, petting it gently and whispering about how important this particular stuffed elephant must be. If you squeezed it hard, it was supposed to say, "Mama loves you!" in a chipper little voice.
But the batteries were struggling after years of neglect and it was slow and moaning and sounded much more like it said, "Ma murlves you," which Tiffany mistakenly heard as "Ma murders you" and thus thought it was a very, very pertinent clue.
"Do you think they meant for us to find the answer so quickly? How could Amelia have been the murderer if she was in fact mutilated so terribly? Plus, what about the word 'grid'? Maybe she meant to write 'guilt'?" Tiffany whispered fast and intensely to Mikaela, who was squeezing the elephant over and over.
"Maybe we should
Her eyes flickered up to his for a moment, while he was staring through the box into her deep cleavage line. She blushed and looked back down. I don't know if she thought he was looking at the box, or if she knew secretly in her heart that he was starting to lust for her. But either way, they were having a pleasant time in the safe room.
Ricky and Rachel sat at the dining room table with the still barely breathing Rafael. Lucy was right, he was definitely toeing the line between life and death for this role. It had been completely unnecessary to drug him, but he was a twenty-one-year-old man-boy wanting to impress everyone. Especially Lucy. He wanted her to see how damn dedicated he was to being a professional actor. It was something they continued to bicker about. When they met, last year, he was still planning on being an engineer. He was a responsible grown man who wanted to provide for a wife someday--but then, something changed within him. He joined a play and realized his true calling was the arts. Why would he sit at a desk all day crunching the dull boring numbers over and over again? His entire life would just be calculating airflow in yet another room. That wasn't how he wanted to live.
He wanted more. He wanted a bright happy new role to play, he wanted to breathe and create and be beautiful. No more of this desk work. Nothing like that anymore. He still craved to be a stable, supportive man, but he also needed to create.
Okay, now if I'm honest, I don't know all of that. I don't really know him, other than Lucy made it pretty damn clear that he had switched from a family-feeding engineer program to a wild goose chase as an actor. So I am guessing I'm pretty on the money with his internal stuff. Either way, he was out cold, in the dining room. Let me tell you where everyone else was.
Mike, Ben, John, and Beezer had gone up to the master bedroom. They had been slowly and pleasantly searching the dressers and the bed. Mike kept holding up the nearly white paint chip to different creamy objects, but so far, he hadn't found a match. Ben found a small shoebox with several dirty pictures of Mr. And Mrs. Jamison. The boys were hooting and hollering at the photographs. The Mrs. was dressed in silky, sexy getups, and the Mr. was wearing a facemask. Beezer kept pointing at her cross-eyed nipples while Ben snorted with laughter. "Do you think this is Rachel and Ricky all dressed up?"
Beezer retorted, "I guess they needed a little R and R, if you know what I mean!" His laughter bubbled across the hallway to Tiffany and Mikaela; they were searching the twins' room. They weren't very good searchers. Honestly, I think they got distracted with the first thing they found and completely forgot to search the rest of the room.
The first thing they found was a stuffed animal sitting in the crib, and it did, in fact, match the paint chip the girls were holding. It wasn't the item that Rachel had planted, it wasn't a clue. A red herring, so to speak. They were both holding it, though, petting it gently and whispering about how important this particular stuffed elephant must be. If you squeezed it hard, it was supposed to say, "Mama loves you!" in a chipper little voice.
But the batteries were struggling after years of neglect and it was slow and moaning and sounded much more like it said, "Ma murlves you," which Tiffany mistakenly heard as "Ma murders you" and thus thought it was a very, very pertinent clue.
"Do you think they meant for us to find the answer so quickly? How could Amelia have been the murderer if she was in fact mutilated so terribly? Plus, what about the word 'grid'? Maybe she meant to write 'guilt'?" Tiffany whispered fast and intensely to Mikaela, who was squeezing the elephant over and over.
"Maybe we should
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