Read Descended (The Red Blindfold Book 3) for Free Online Page B

she
said. “I’m pretty hungry.”
    “Of course you are.”
    I had a dozen questions
on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t ask any of them. How old
are you? Where are you from? What do you do for a living? Her life
was only three days old, and something about that fascinated me. She
was brand new, open to any intense new experience I might want to
give her.
    But she was also scared
and traumatized.
    I couldn’t take
advantage of a woman in her state, though Christ knew I wanted to.
She was somebody’s daughter, maybe somebody’s wife. Even that
thought wouldn’t banish my inappropriate but extremely persistent
erection.
    “That was delicious,”
she said.
    “Thanks, but it
wasn’t even close.”
    “It was the best I’ve
ever had…in the last three days.”
    She smiled. Whoever she
was, whoever she belonged to, she was very special. Maybe her husband
had gone crazy with jealousy one night and that was how the whole
thing started. I could easily imagine going ballistic if another man
so much as looked at her. The blast of pure testosterone driving me
as I shoved the guy’s face into the nearest brick wall.
    But I wasn’t like
that anymore, was I? I was a trustworthy, low-drama, no-headline CEO
type. That’s what my investors wanted, and that’s what I gave
them. Even if I still had a primitive side I tried hard to restrict
to the bedroom.
    Not that anybody had
tempted that side of me lately. And when it did happen, it was more
like going through the motions, fantasizing I was with a different
type of woman. A woman more like, well, the one sitting across from
me.
    “How long are you
staying here?” she asked.
    The one question I
couldn’t answer. “As long as it takes to track down my father.”
    “That’s who you’re
looking for?”
    “Yes,” I said,
reaching for my glass of cabernet. “He took off by himself about a
week ago.”
    Jane gave me a curious
frown. “What do you mean, took off?”
    Here
we go . Damn. Elijah was not my favorite topic of
conversation; in fact, I made it a point to keep him a very
well-guarded secret.
    But then, he was no
secret to the cops and prison wardens down here. He’d been racking
up felonies for so long, he was practically a folk legend. The man
was one part Jesse James, one part Whitey Bulgur, with a record that
read like a loser’s to-do list: assault, attempted murder, bribery,
car theft, and on and on through the alphabet to weapons possession.
    After my first arrest
at twenty-one for illegal gambling, he’d taken a hard swing at me
and missed. But what he’d said had hurt a lot worse than a broken
nose. “Apple don’t fall far from the fucking tree, does it? You
got my blood, and you’ll never amount to nothing.”
    I’d spent every
minute since proving to myself that family didn’t equal fate. My
father’s DNA hadn’t ruined my half-brother, and I’d be
goddamned if it would ruin me.
    Jane blinked as she
waited for my answer. If she’d been anyone else, I’d have shut
the conversation down or changed the subject. But the way she looked
at me with those piercing blue eyes – it was impossible to dodge
her question.
    “He’s been in and
out of jail since I was a kid,” I said. “He was finally released
two years ago after a twelve-year term. I hoped he’d simmer down
with age, but a couple of strokes have made him even more
unpredictable. I hired somebody to look after him in Houston, but
that only lasted a couple of months. Last week he slipped out of his
apartment and took his neighbor’s car. Friday I got a call from a
contact of mine in the Chimayo police department. My father’s here
again, up to Christ knows what. That’s what I’m trying to find
out.”
    “Is there anything I
can do to help?” Jane’s pale eyebrows went up, giving her a
sweet, earnest look.
    It was a nice offer,
but come on. She was having a hell of a time just helping herself.
“Thanks, but you’ve got enough to deal with,” I said.
    “It sounds like