Swept Away Read Online Free

have seen it coming. His temper was obvious, even if it hadn’t been turned on her. She sensed his businesses were shady, though she had no idea how. But what manner of man needs a couple of big bruisers hanging close at all times?
    After a few moments she pushed the door open. She was going to flee, but she heard the shower running. Nick was fastidious. He’d want to wash up if he’d been mussed or stained with blood.
    She knew she shouldn’t, but she just had to know. She passed through the chaos of the sitting room and crept toward the bedroom door. The sound of the shower gave her a sense of cover. She looked into the room and there, sprawled facedown on the bed, was Mrs. Nick. Her hand dangled lifelessly off the edge and her hair looked wet in the back. Blood?
    God, he’d done it. They’d gotten into it and, whether deliberately or accidentally, in a fit of rage he’d killed her. And now Nick’s boys were going to get rid of her body. And then he was going to “do something” about her.
    She heard something and craned her neck. He was singing in the shower! That’s when she knew she’d hit bottom. She had to run. She couldn’t take any chances. Any man who could sing in the shower while his wife lay dead a few feet away was no man to trifle with.
    She left the suite, left the Mansion and went through the casino. She took a cab to the airport. She had no luggage. Only that little tiny Kate Spade bag, which fortunately had quite a lot of money in it. She didn’t know what to do, but she knew what not to do. She would not wait around the airport for a flight to Florida so she could be found there. She wouldn’t flee to her condo, the first place Nick would look.
    But she bought a ticket to Florida on her credit card. Then she bought a pair of sunglasses and a scarf with cash. She covered her platinum hair and her lavender eyes and took another cab, this one to a suburb of Las Vegas. And there, nestled in a little neighborhood inn that did not feature gambling, she cooled her heels and waited for news of a murdered woman. There was a little strip mall and grocery store nearby, a drugstore, a coffee shop, a Goodwill store and army surplus. She only went out after dark, with her bright white-blond hair covered. She purchased a sweat suit and tennis shoes, some cotton underwear, hair dye and a ball cap. Later she picked up some men’s clothing at army surplus, hiding her luscious body in the deep folds.
    And every day she picked up a newspaper, and every day she stayed glued to the television.
    There was no news regarding Barbara Noble. Four days had passed and there was nothing. She called the MGM and asked for Mr. Nick Noble’s suite and was told he had checked out. She started to wonder if she had overreacted. Maybe he hadn’t meant to get rid of the body, but just get the wife out of town. Should she just fly back to Florida, tell him his temper had scared her, apologize for being a flake, get back to work, get on with life? But first, she called the Noble household in Palm Beach and asked for Barbara.
    â€œI’m sorry, Mrs. Noble is not in.”
    â€œCan you tell me when it would be a good time to reach her?”
    â€œMrs. Noble is out of the country and I’m not sure when she plans to return.”
    Out of the country? The next day there was a small item in the newspaper, but it wasn’t about Barbara. It was about Jennifer. The headline read Missing. Her picture was beneath. It was from a photo taken when she was sailing with Nick. Her long blond hair whipped in the wind and her sexy smile was confident and sure; for once the newspaper photo wasn’t grainy. The story read:
    â€œJennifer Chaise, age thirty, of Fort Lauderdale has been missing for five days. She traveled to Las Vegas with friends, who say she disappeared suddenly, without taking any of her belongings with her. Her travel companions report missing a great deal of