Read Fever 1 - Darkfever for Free Online Page A

wouldn't she tell me? "Look, this is really important."
    "How important?" she said.
    What did she want? Money? That could be a problem. "Very."
    She looked beyond me, over my shoulder, and uttered a single word like a benediction. " Jericho ."
    " Jericho ?" I echoed, not following. "You mean the ancient city?"
    "Jericho Barrens," a rich, cultured male voice said behind me. "And you are?" Not an Irish accent. No idea what kind of accent it was, though.
    I turned, with my name perched on the tip of my tongue, but it didn't make it out. No wonder Fiona had said his name like that. I gave myself a brisk inward shake and stuck out my hand. "MacKayla, but most people call me Mac."
    "Have you a surname, MacKayla?" He pressed my knuckles briefly to his lips and released my hand. My skin tingled where his mouth had been.
    Was it my imagination or was his gaze predatory? I was afraid I was getting a little paranoid. It had been a long, odd day after an odder night. Ashford Journal headlines were beginning to form in my mind: Second Lane Sister Meets with Foul Play in Dublin Bookshop . "Just Mac is fine," I evaded.
    "And what do you know of this shi-sadu , just Mac?"
    "Nothing.That's why I was asking. What is it?"
    "I have no idea," he said. "Where did you hear of it?"
    "Can't remember.Why do you care?"
    He crossed his arms.
    I crossed mine too. Why were these people lying to me? What in the world was this thing I was asking about?
    He studied me with his predator's gaze, assessing me from head to toe. I studied him back. He didn't just occupy space; he saturated it. The room had been full of books before, now it was full of him. About thirty, six foot two or three, he had dark hair, golden skin, and dark eyes. His features were strong, chiseled. I couldn't pinpoint his nationality any more than I could his accent; some kind of European crossed with Old World Mediterranean or maybe an ancestor with dark Gypsy blood. He wore an elegant, dark gray Italian suit, a crisp white shirt, and a muted patterned tie. He wasn't handsome. That was too calm a word. He was intensely masculine. He was sexual. He attracted. There was an omnipresent carnality about him, in his dark eyes, in his full mouth, in the way he stood. He was the kind of man I wouldn't flirt with in a million years.
    A smile curved his mouth. It looked no nicer than he did, and I wasn't deluded by it for a moment.
    "You know what it means," I told him. "Why don't you just tell me?"
    "You know something about it, as well," he said. "Why not tell me?"
    "I asked first." Childish maybe, but it was all I could think of. He didn't dignify it with a response. "I'll find out what I want to know one way or another," I said. If these people knew what it was, somewhere in Dublin somebody else did, too.
    "As will I.Have no doubt of that, just Mac."
    I gave him my frostiest look, much-practiced on drunk, randy patrons at The Brickyard. "Is that a threat?"
    He stepped forward and I stiffened, but he merely reached past me, over my shoulder. When he moved back, he was holding my credit card. "Of course not"—he glanced down at my name—"Ms. Lane . I see your Visa is drawn on SunTrust. Isn't that a southernU.S. bank?"
    "Maybe."I snatched my card from his hand.
    "What state in the South are you from?"
    " Texas ," I lied.
    "Indeed. What brings you to Dublin ?"
    "None of your business."
    "It became my business when you came into my establishment, inquiring about the shi-sadu ."
    "So you do know what it is! You just admitted it."
    "I admit nothing. However, I will tell you this: You,Ms. Lane , are in way over your head. Take my advice and extricate yourself while it's still possible."
    "It's too late. I can't." His condescending high-handedness was making me mad. When I get mad, I dig my heels in right where I am.
    "A pity.You won't last a week as sophomorically as you're bludgeoning about. Should you care to tell me what you know, I might be able to increase your odds of survival."
    "Not a chance.