Read Dead Run for Free Online Page A

stood, hands on his hips, head cocked slightly to the side as he studied her. Sometimes Valentine Lopez took her breath away—he was that handsome.
    Too bad he had never given her a second glance.
    â€œThat Larry Bernhardt was self-indulgent, self-important and more than a little bit naughty.”
    Her boss’s eyebrows shot up in question, and she smiled. “Check out the mirrors. And I’m sure with his assets, he didn’t lack for company.”
    Her superior knew exactly what kind of assets she referred to. “Money,” he murmured with a hint of bitterness, “the international language of love.”
    Carla nodded, agreeing with the comment and understanding the bitterness. For a woman it wasn’t money,but youth. A killer body. Big breasts. The ability to suck a golf ball through a garden hose.
    What about personality? Carla thought. What about brains, loyalty and a good heart? She glanced back and caught a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrors. Sun-streaked sandy hair, pert nose, wide-set hazel eyes. Too many freckles, each earned on the beach while baking.
    A lump formed in her throat. She looked old, she thought with a sense of shock. Not the dewy-eyed twenty-four-year-old who had accompanied a man she barely knew for a weekend on Key West, packing little more than lip gloss and a string bikini.
    Six years. It seemed impossible. She had officially become what the locals referred to as a “freshwater conch” just this past January.
    The same month she had turned thirty.
    She swallowed hard, remembering that twenty-four-year-old girl. She had dumped the guy and begun a passionate love affair with Key West. And like all such affairs, it had burned hotly but gone cold fast.
    Not that she regretted her decision to move here. But the fact was, she was no longer twenty-four, no more a total babe in a string bikini. Now, instead of worshiping the sun, she feared it for the damage it had done to her skin. Now she recognized that the most eligible bachelors on the island were beyond her reach—they were all tourists; they didn’t stay.
    Carla wanted stability. A good man who loved her. Kids.
    She feared she would die single and childless.
    â€œThis look like the scene of a crime to you?” Val asked.
    Carla blinked and glanced at her boss, confused. “Crime? Looks like a suicide to me.”
    â€œNo note.”
    â€œLeapers don’t always leave a note.” She moved her gaze over the bedroom. Other than the unmade bed, the room was Home and Gardens neat. It appeared the man had awakened, walked out onto the balcony and jumped.
    She shook her head. “What makes someone like Bernhardt kill himself? Looks to me like he had just about everything a guy could want.” When Val remained silent, she frowned. “You think someone helped him over that rail?”
    â€œNo, that’s not what’s bothering me. This place cost big money. Too much money. He was a loan officer, for Pete’s sake.”
    â€œA VP. I imagine those guys make good salaries.”
    Val narrowed his eyes. “But Island National isn’t exactly Bank One. The smaller the bank, the smaller the compensation. Come in here.”
    He led her to the bathroom. At first all Carla saw was the sheer size and opulence of the room. The marble garden tub, with its gold fittings, could comfortably accommodate four. A gold cherub perched on each corner of the tub; each held an urn that served as a water spout. As in the bedroom, mirrors had been strategically placed for maximum viewing pleasure. A TV had been mounted from the ceiling at one end of the tub.
    â€œIt’s kind of tacky,” she murmured. “Don’t you think?”
    â€œI wasn’t pointing out the décor. Take a look at this.” Val pressed a button hidden beneath the counter: a panel of the cabinetry below the sink popped open, revealing a chamber filled with a cache of drugs and drug