Read Peccadillo - A Katla Novel (Amsterdam Assassin Series Book 2) for Free Online

Nicky fished out his PSP game console and checked the battery. Maybe it’d last long enough to pass the hour. With his feet up on the console and the coffee balanced in his crotch he played Mortal Kombat, waiting for the call from the quay.

MEETING

    Dressed in jeans and a turtleneck, Katla carried a pair of black leather sneakers into the living room and halted at the kitchen counter to watch Bram make tea. A ritual at once deliberate and circumspect. The stainless steel clamp, filled with loose-leafed Lapsang Souchon tea, descended with a slight chink into the high thin glass. Like handling molten lava, Bram poured boiling water into the glass and returned the kettle to the range. He turned with the glass in his hand and halted, feeling her presence.
    “You want something to drink?”
    “An espresso would be nice.”
    Bram nodded and turned to the Gaggia espresso machine. Katla limped into the living room, sat on the couch to put on her sneakers, bending her right leg with both hands to slip her foot into the sneaker. Bram might’ve been right about overexerting herself. She’d better take it slow for the next few days, give her leg plenty of rest. While she tied her laces, Bram strolled around the counter with his peculiar loping gait that made him appear to glide over the gleaming parquet floor. Katla envied him his grace, wished she was rid of her limp. He placed a fresh espresso on the coffee table in front of her and sat down next to her, stirring his tea with the clamp, his aquiline nose hovering in the steam rising from the glass.
    She snuggled up to him. “I once dreamed of retiring to an atoll in the Pacific Ocean. House on the beach, walking around naked all day.”
    “But?”
    Katla leant back.”Somehow I don’t see you in my dream.”
    “Maybe that’s because it’s your dream, not mine.”
    “I know. I don’t like my dream anymore. I’d love to live like that, but I wouldn’t like to leave you behind.”
    “I wouldn’t like that either,” Bram replied. “But I’d understand.”
    “You’d understand if I left you behind to live on an island?”
    “I love you.” He turned in her direction. “Your happiness is more important to me than my own.”
    She leant her head against his shoulder. “Wouldn’t you be miserable without me?”
    “Your happiness would probably ease my misery.”
    “You wouldn’t prefer it if I’d stay here?”
    “Not if it would make you unhappy. Don’t you have a meeting?”
    She checked her watch. “Yes. You’ll be here when I come back?”
    “Yes. But I have to get up at nine to make my aikido class.”
    “I’ll be back around midnight.” Katla shrugged into her jacket. He opened his flight case and assembled his saxophone.
    She halted him briefly to kiss him. “Don’t play too long.”
    “Don’t worry.” He followed her into the hallway and climbed the stairs to the gym. “I’ll limit myself to ballads.”
    As she opened the front door to go out, a flurry of notes came down from the gym. Katla limped back and stood at the bottom of the stairs. “That’s not a ballad.”
    The music stopped. His voice floated down the stairs. “I wrote it for a girl with ADHD.”
    Katla rolled her eyes and left the apartment, pulling out her cell phone as she limped down the stairs. The Taxi Centrale Amsterdam asked for an address to collect her, but she gave them the entrance of Artis. The fewer people knew where she lived, the better.
    As Katla walked down the Nijlpaardenbrug, a late-model Mercedes turned the corner, the sign on the roof lit to show its availability. The taxi halted in front of the zoo. Katla waved with her cane and the taxi drove the extra fifty meters to the curve to the Plantage Doklaan.
    His window whispered down. “You called for a taxi?”
    “Yes,” Katla replied. “You mind if I sit up front?”
    “Not at all.” The driver popped the door open. “Whereto, moppie?”
    “Vlothaven.” She scooted into the passenger seat, closed