Read Chasing The Dead (An Alex Stone Thriller) for Free Online Page B

cocked her head, fighting against a laugh and losing, not wanting to tell him where she’d been. “You’re definitely getting your money’s worth from that book.”
    “No doubt about that, even if I didn’t think of you as the horseshit type.”
    “And I never think of you at all.”
    Rossi grinned. “We both know that’s bullshit. Deep down I think you like me.”
    “There you go again, Rossi, doing all that thinking. Didn’t your father warn you about working without tools? Besides, why do you care? It’s not like I’m at the top of your Christmas list.”
    “I don’t have a Christmas list. Hell, I don’t even have a fucking stocking.”
    “Poor pitiful Rossi. Need a suggestion on where to put your lump of coal?”
    “No, thanks. I’d rather keep it in the sunlight where I can admire its natural beauty. And, not that you’re asking, but I’d say you could use a little sunlight.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?”
    “It means you don’t just smell like shit. The way you’re hunched over and your face is all pinched, you look like you’re trying to decide between going postal or fetal.”
    “You really know how to make a girl feel good about herself.”
    Rossi swiveled on his barstool, facing her. “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
    Alex straightened, flattening her palms on the bar and forcing a smile. “Is that better?”
    “Now you just look like you’ve got gas.”
    “Fuck you, Rossi.”
    “No, thanks, but I get it.”
    “Get what?”
    “All most people know about killing is what they see on television. Good guy kills the bad guy and goes home for dinner with the wife and kids like it was just another day at the office. But it’s not, is it?”
    Alex rubbed her hands around her bottle, setting it on the bar.
    “No, it isn’t.”
    “No, it isn’t, is right. It changes you forever. I still get the nightmares, wake up sweating like it’s all going down again, my heart trying to bust out of my chest.”
    Alex nodded and sighed. There’d been moments when Rossi had reached out to her like he cared. She hadn’t known what to make of him in those moments, whether that was the real Rossi and the rest was just for show. But in this moment, she hoped it was the real Rossi, because he was the only person who truly knew what she’d been through. Bonnie’s therapist had tried to understand but could never bridge the gulf between his compassion and her experience.
    “I know the feeling, and I get so worked up, so angry, I can’t get back to sleep. I just stay mad. Is it like that with you?”
    He shrugged. “Nope. I thank God they’re dead and I’m not and I go back to sleep, and you know why I can do that? It’s because I don’t feel guilty. I was doing my job each and every time, by the book on permissible use of deadly force. And when I had to go on the record, I told the truth. I’ve got a clear conscience, and that makes a world of difference.”
    Rossi’s message was clear. Alex dropped her chin to her chest, biting her lip, anger swelling and rising from her belly. She sat up, squaring around at him.
    “Is that what this is about, Rossi? You sit down next to me like this is a PTSD support group and pretend you give a shit about me? Why, because you think I’ve got a guilty conscience and if you give me some love, I’ll come clean?”
    “I guarantee you’ll feel better. And why not come clean? You’ve got the double-jeopardy passport to freedom. Or you can spend the rest of your life hanging out in dive bars, drinking alone in the middle of the week, wondering if Bonnie’s figured it out yet and what she’ll do when she does and if you’ll ever get another good night’s sleep or if you’ll ever stop being so pissed off at yourself for making such a fucking mess of your life.”
    Alex stood, trembling. Rossi had gutted her, and it was all she could do not to scream and take a swing at him or just puddle onto the floor and cry like a baby. She gripped the back of