Read Double Impact: Never Say Die & No Way Back for Free Online Page A

else.”
    â€œSo everyone tells me.” Willy shoved a hank of wind-blown hair off her face and wished he’d stop talking about her father. That’s how it’d been, as far back as she could remember. When she was a child in Vientiane, at every dinner party, every cocktail gathering, the pilots would invariably trot out another Wild Bill story. They’d raise toasts to his nerves, his daring, his crazy humor, until she was ready to scream. All those stories only emphasized how unimportant she and her mother were in the scheme of her father’s life.
    Maybe that’s why Guy Barnard was starting to annoy her.
    But it was more than just his talk about Bill Maitland. In some odd, indefinable way, Guy reminded her too much of her father.
    The tuk-tuk suddenly hit a bump in the road, throwing her against Guy’s shoulder. Pain sliced through her arm and her whole body seemed to clench in a spasm.
    He glanced at her, alarmed. “Are you all right?”
    â€œI’m—” She bit her lip, fighting back tears. “It’s really starting to hurt.”
    He yelled at the driver to slow down. Then he took Willy’s hand and held it tightly. “Just a little while longer. We’re almost there….”
    It was a long ride to the hotel.
    Up in her room, Guy sat her down on the bed and gently stroked the hair off her face. “Do you have any pain killers?”
    â€œThere’s—there’s some aspirin in the bathroom.” She started to rise to her feet. “I can get it.”
    â€œNo. You stay right where you are.” He went into the bathroom, came back out with a glass of water and the bottle of aspirin. Even through her cloud of pain, she was intensely aware of him watching her, studying her as she swallowed the tablets. Yet she found his nearness strangely reassuring. When he turned and crossed the room, the sudden distance between them left her feeling abandoned.
    She watched him rummage around in the tiny refrigerator. “What are you looking for?”
    â€œFound it.” He came back with a cocktail bottle of whiskey, which he uncapped and handed to her. “Liquid anesthesia. It’s an old-fashioned remedy, but it works.”
    â€œI don’t like whiskey.”
    â€œYou don’t have to like it. By definition, medicine’s not supposed to taste good.”
    She managed a gulp. It burned all the way down her throat. “Thanks,” she muttered. “I think.”
    He began to walk a slow circle, surveying the plush furnishings, the expansive view. Sliding glass doors opened onto a balcony. From the Chaophya River flowing just below came the growl of motorboats plying the waters. He wandered over to the nightstand, picked up a rambutan from the complimentary fruit basket and peeled off the prickly shell. “Nice room,” he said, thoughtfully chewing the fruit. “Sure beats my dive—the Liberty Hotel. What do you do for a living, anyway?”
    She took another sip of whiskey and coughed. “I’m a pilot.”
    â€œJust like your old man?”
    â€œNot exactly. I fly for the paycheck, not the excitement. Not that the pay’s great. No money in flying cargo.”
    â€œCan’t be too bad if you’re staying here.”
    â€œI’m not paying for this.”
    His eyebrows shot up. “Who is?”
    â€œMy mother.”
    â€œGenerous of her.”
    His note of cynicism irritated her. What right did he have to insult her? Here he was, this battered vagabond, eating her fruit, enjoying her view. The tuk-tuk ride had tossed his hair in all directions, and his bruised eye was swollen practically shut. Why was she even putting up with this jerk?
    He was watching her with curiosity. “So what else is Mama paying for?” he asked.
    She looked him hard in the eye. “Her own funeral arrangements,” she said, and was satisfied to see his smirk instantly vanish.
    â€œWhat