Read Ready To Burn (Due South Book 3) for Free Online Page B

Mom.” He jerked his chin toward the back door. “She in the cottage?”
    “Last I saw.” West grinned. “Nothing much has changed here, Delly. You’ll fit right into the groove again.”
    “Don’t call me Delly, butthead.” He managed a returning smile.
    Although he’d rather catch the next ferry to the mainland and pretend this whole trip was a hallucinatory episode brought on by determined sobriety, he wouldn’t. He was stuck at Due South, in the shitty position of ousting Shaye as head chef. He could fool West, he could fool Bill and his mother—he could even fool Shaye by pretending he had options. But he couldn’t fool himself.
    Claire was mixing cookie dough when he and West walked into their old house, but Del didn’t have the heart to tell her he no longer had a sweet tooth.
    West had been right. His mom fussed a little, scolded him for not letting them know his arrival plans, and made up a container of cookies for him. Painless in comparison with his brief interaction with Bill.
    He hadn’t always gotten on so well with his mom. He’d been a right shit to her for the first year in LA, convinced if he made her miserable enough, she’d return him to his father and brother. Didn’t happen.
    Claire had moved in with Lionel soon after Del had turned fifteen, and he’d decided to hate his new stepfather and thirteen-year-old stepsister. Fortunately, Lionel, a former Air Force officer, believed in crack-of-dawn, five-mile runs and brutal—but not physical—disciplinary actions. He also took Del and Carly on camping weekends in nearby state parks and showed up at every high school baseball game and parent-teacher conference. Hard to keep a hate campaign going when pitted against genuine tough love, especially as his stepsister turned out to be his greatest ally.
    Then last year, Lionel died after a nightmarish battle with malignant Glioblastoma, a nasty type of brain tumor. The big, don’t take crap from anyone, let alone a punk kid , fly-boy had been decimated, turning into a transparent ghost of the man Del loved. Yeah, he’d loved him. Took him until his stepfather lay on his deathbed before Del called Lionel “Dad”, but Del had meant it when he’d said it.
    “Don’t be too hard on Bill.” His mom passed over the container of cookies. “Just give yourselves some time to adjust to each other.”
    “Sure. Don’t worry.”
    Like he intended to take a swing, verbal or actual, at the old man. Bill Westlake warranted only a small part of Del’s energy, no more than the energy it’d taken to have him shipped off so many years ago.
    Del stepped outside and crossed the gravel parking lot separating the hotel buildings from his parents’ cottage. West had already left five minutes ago to organize a ride to his place. A white van with Due South sign-writing on the panel parked with its engine running, a dread-locked dude in coveralls hoisting Del’s luggage inside.
    “Hey, buddy!”
    He didn’t believe the man would bail with his suitcase—because where could you escape to on Stewart Island, which was eighty percent frickin’ wilderness? He just didn’t want the little camera and laptop in his sports bag damaged.
    The man spun around, aiming dark sunglasses, and a slight scowl in Del’s direction.
    Del squinted, and as he strode closer his eyes popped wide. “Ford?”
    Scowl transforming into a lazy-cat smile, Ford Komeke shoved his shades up into his dreads. “Heard you were here.”
    “From your mom?”
    Ford snorted. “Mom? Listen to you. Yep, my mum came over to the shop and said you’d rolled into town.”
    “Still working for your dad? Thought you’d be outta here like Harley years ago.”
    “Nah. This is my turf; I’m not going anywhere. And somebody’s gotta stay and maintain people’s shit with Dad, otherwise it all falls apart.”
    “Mr. Fix-it man and his pet grease monkey.”
    Ford shot him a wide, teeth-bared grin. “Wanna walk up to West’s lugging your own