The Last to Die

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Book: Read The Last to Die for Free Online
Authors: Beverly Barton
may-be an inch tal-ler. And yo-ur clot-hes are clas-si-er. But I'll be dam-ned if you don't lo-ok eno-ugh li-ke her to be-"
    "And just who are you?" Re-ve as-ked, her to-ne de-li-be-ra-tely stern.
    "Sorry." He step-ped back as she tur-ned to fa-ce him. "I'm Ca-leb McCord." He held out his hand.
    "Mr. McCord." She sho-ok hands with him. "I'm Re-ve Sor-rell. Do-es that na-me me-an an-y-t-hing Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    to you?"
    He sho-ok his he-ad. "No-pe. Sho-uld it?"
    "No, I sup-po-se not"
    "Does the na-me Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot me-an an-y-t-hing to you?" he as-ked. "You wo-uldn't by any chan-ce be a re-la-ti-ve I don't know abo-ut, wo-uld you?"
    "Do you know Ms. Tal-bot well?"
    "Well eno-ugh to know she do-esn't ha-ve a sis-ter, at le-ast not one she knows an-y-t-hing abo-ut."
    "That cer-ta-inly ma-kes two of us. As far as I know, I don't ha-ve a sis-ter. But a re-si-dent of Che-ro-kee Co-unty I met at a party a few months ago men-ti-oned I had a lo-ok-ali-ke he-re in Che-ro-kee Po-in-te, and sin-ce I was in the area an-y-way… well, I re-mem-be-red his com-ments and I'm cu-ri-o-us eno-ugh to want to me-et her."
    "And who wo-uld that be-the per-son who told you that you lo-oked li-ke Jaz-zy?"
    "Jamie Up-ton. Do you know him?"
    A dark frown era-sed all warmth from Ca-leb McCord's rug-gedly han-d-so-me fa-ce. "So you're one of Jamie's wo-men, huh? So-met-hing el-se you and Jaz-zy ha-ve in com-mon."
    "I ta-ke it that you don't es-pe-ci-al-ly li-ke Jamie."
    "Hate the guy's guts."
    "Because?"
    "Because be-ing a man in-s-te-ad of a wo-man, I ha-ve the go-od for-tu-ne to see the son of a bitch for what he is."
    "Which is?"
    "He's a sorry, go-od-for-not-hing lo-use who-se hobby is bre-aking he-arts and des-t-ro-ying li-ves."
    Apparently this man ca-red for Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot and re-sen-ted Jamie's con-nec-ti-on to the lady.
    "You're je-alo-us be-ca-use Jas-mi-ne was his te-ena-ge swe-et-he-art and she still lo-ves him."
    Caleb chuc-k-led. "The guy did a num-ber on you, too, didn't he? Is that the re-al re-ason you're in town? Jamie ro-man-ced you, scre-wed you, then left you to co-me back to Jaz-zy. And you're he-re in town to see what Jaz-zy's got that you don't ha-ve?"
    "Mr. McCord, you ha-ve a very vi-vid ima-gi-na-ti-on. Jamie didn't use and abu-se me, al-t-ho-ugh he wo-uld ha-ve if I'd gi-ven him a chan-ce. I'm he-re stricdy out of cu-ri-osity. I want to me-et Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot."
    "Then co-me right on in with me and I'll in-t-ro-du-ce you to her." Ca-leb held open the do-or, then fol-lo-wed Re-ve in-to the res-ta-urant.
    Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    The hos-tess, who-se -na-me tag re-ad Tif-fany, rus-hed for-ward, then stop-ped de-ad in her tracks. Her pink lips for-med an oval as she gas-ped in sur-p-ri-se when he lo-oked at Re-ve.
    "We want a bo-oth," Ca-leb sa-id. 'Two cups of cof-fee. Black?" he as-ked Re-ve.
    "Cream, no su-gar," she rep-li-ed.
    "And ask Jaz-zy to jo-in us. Tell her I've got a lit-tle sur-p-ri-se for her."
    "I'll say you do. Who is she?" Tif-fany lo-oked at Re-ve. "I me-an, who are you, ma'am? I can't get over how much you lo-ok li-ke Jaz-zy."
    "So ever-yo-ne ke-eps tel-ling me."
    "Second bo-oth on the left, by the win-dows," Tif-fany sa-id. "I'll tell Jaz-zy and then get the cof-fee."
    As they he-aded for the bo-oth, se-ve-ral he-ads tur-ned and mo-re than one set of eyes sta-red una-bas-hedly at Re-ve as she wal-ked by. All of a sud-den she wasn't so su-re co-ming he-re li-ke this had be-en such a go-od idea. May-be she sho-uld ha-ve cal-led Jas-mi-ne Tal-bot first and as-ked her a few qu-es-ti-ons. May-be she sho-uld ha-ve te-lep-ho-ned Jamie and as-ked him to set up a me-eting bet-we-en her and her so-cal-led twin.
    By the ti-me they sat down and Re-ve be-gan to re-lax, whis-pers and mur-murs sur-ro-un-ded them. Tif-fany ca-me rus-hing back to the-ir bo-oth, a cof-fe-epot in hand. She flip-ped over the cups

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