Read Buried (Hiding From Love #3) for Free Online Page A

black, the pupils only a few shades darker than the irises. The way his strong jaw flexes when he goes hard and cold, trying to withdraw. Then, before I can stop it, the image shifts down his body to his broad shoulders, which stretch the white T-shirts he wears, his firm chest and abs that, even through a shirt, I can tell are rock hard. He’s sex on a stick, right up to his damn ears. I can visualize licking a line right from the corner of his mouth, along his jaw, to one of those earlobes, then sucking it into my mouth as he whispers my name.
    “It’s not guilt,” I say, my voice a bit shaky. “I can’t explain it. David doesn’t understand either, but I have to help him. One way or another, I have to save him, Jill.” I look up at Jill, eyes stinging with the tears I never allow to fall.
    Jill takes my hand and squeezes briefly before releasing it. “Oh, Bethy.” She shakes her head and sighs. “So what’s the plan? And how can I help?”
    This is the Jill that I adore, the loyal friend who’d walk through fire—or hang out with a felon—to support me.
    “I convinced David to come up tomorrow and go visit Juan with me. I told him to get whatever information he can out of Juan. I don’t think he did it. The drive-by. I don’t think there’s any way he could shoot a little girl like that. I mean, I knew him his entire life, Jill. People don’t change that much in a couple of years.” I shake my head briskly to dispel the very idea that Juan could commit such a heinous act. “Something’s just not right—about any of this. Joining the gang, the drive-by, the way he pushes me away. It’s not right. It’s not Juan. There’s something here we’re missing and we just have to keep digging and asking questions until we find it.”
    “So let’s say you’re right and there’s more to this than a kid who panicked and joined a gang. How are you going to figure it out if he won’t tell you the truth?”
    “I’m going to start by finding out about his conviction. I’m going to get every piece of information on it that I can. Something’s in those records that no one else has noticed and it’s going to help point me to what really happened to Juan.”
    “And I suppose I’m going to be bringing you coffee and snacks while you comb through all of these reams of information?” Jill raises an eyebrow at me.
    “I thought you’d never ask,” I reply as I reach into my backpack and pull out said reams of information.

S ATURDAYS are low-key days at the halfway house. No meetings or training sessions. Just our assigned house chores and free time. For guys who’ve been in prison for a while, time with nothing to do is the rule rather than the exception. We’re real good at sitting around in small spaces with absolutely nothing to occupy ourselves. But here, I can go outside, smell the fresh air, and watch the world. Birds, squirrels, flowers. I’m so hard up that I’m even happy to see bugs. Any chance to be outside and look at something other than chain link and bare dirt. It’s like a gift.
    It’s about eleven, and the temperature is getting warmer quickly. Summer’s just around the corner. I can feel it in the air. I’m watering the new plants along the side of the property when I notice a tiny frog in the dirt underneath one of the honeysuckle bushes. I bend down and carefully lift him between my thumb and forefinger. I place him in the palm of my opposite hand and softly stroke his tiny back.
    “Hey, little vato . How’s it goin’?” I ask quietly.
    He’s smooth and still, his sides expanding and retracting as he breathes. I hold him up to my face so we’re nose to nose. He blinks at me. Do frogs blink? News to me.
    “I’m putting more plants out here for you, little man. There’ll be more shade and water. We’ll keep you cool this summer, yeah?”
    “Wow. I thought the RH would have broken you of the whole talking-to-small-animals thing,” a voice says behind me.
    My heart