The Dirt On Ninth Grave Audio Free Download

He followed at a slower pace, and then I wrapped an arm in his, sending him a thousand different mixed signals. But his peace of mind was hardly my priority. I simply wanted to exist near people. People who could call the police should the need arise.

I totally needed a phone.

Making certain to sit where I could run into the alley, I scooted into a berth. Ian tried to sit down next to me. After I shot him a warning glare on the dos and don'ts of friendship, he moved to the other side.

Shayla, a tiny, fairylike creature who divers the phrase cuter than a bug's ear, brought us some menus. "Can't get enough of united states of america?" she asked, teasing.

"It's the excellent service."

She giggled, took our drink orders, and went to wait on another tabular array. I was one-half hoping Reyes would exist in. Mayhap we couldn't have a relationship, but I could damned well look upon him when he presented himself to be looked upon. That wasn't so much stalking as affectionate. Like fine art. And porn.

We'd barely sat down when a truck pulled upwards behind Mr. V's antiques store. I was hoping to see more than of the van Cookie and I had seen that morning behind the dry-cleaning business. It hitting me some time afterwards that nigh supply vans rarely carried boxes out of a concern. Wasn't information technology their jobs to carry boxes of supplies inside? So what would they accept been carrying out?

I'd racked my brain trying to remember which supply visitor the van had been with, merely information technology just wasn't coming to me.

Cleaner Supply Warehouse.

I blinked in surprise. It popped into my caput out of nowhere the moment I'd stopped trying to think it. I saw the green lettering on the white van clear as sunshine, a article we'd had far as well niggling of lately.

I jumped up, grabbed a pen off the checkout counter, and wrote the proper noun down. I'd look the visitor up subsequently. Come across how legit they were. For at present, I focused on the truck, a red four-door Chevy I didn't recognize. 2 men got out and put the tailgate down. There was some kind of equipment in the back. I leaned in, just it was merely too nighttime to meet. Besides, a set up of fingers began snapping in my face.

My ire rocketed to an all-time loftier as I scowled at Ian.

He scowled back, his patience seeming to run thin as well. His audacity was reaching new levels of stupidity by the 2d. Why did I ever put up with him? Considering when I first showed upward, I had no one and he was prissy.

"Are you fifty-fifty on earth?" he asked.

I bit back a antiphon. I had him in a public place. I could stop things for good hither, just first I needed to go a look at the contents of the truck earlier they hauled their load inside.

Still, I was finished worrying about his feelings. "Lodge me a quesadilla."

"What? Where are you going?"

"I'll exist back," I said in my all-time Arnold voice, the little at the back of my mind concerned at how I could remember a line from a movie and, again, not my own proper noun.

I hurried to the alley exit and snuck out the door, trying to stick to the shadows and always so grateful for Reyes'due south jacket. Thankfully, in that location was a slight discrepancy in the length of the two buildings. They were continued, but the antiques store was a couple of feet longer, which gave me the perfect barrier to hide backside.

I leaned confronting the brick. The 2 men were unloading a piece of equipment, some black duffel bags, and a couple of plain boxes that looked pretty heavy. They put all of that on the ground and went within.

Mr. V wasn't with them, and I didn't know how to experience about that.

A male voice spoke from behind me. "What are you doing?"

It was just loud plenty to get one of the men'due south attention. He stopped and scanned the area while I pressed a finger over Garrett Swopes's oral fissure. Information technology was warm nether my freezing manus, his shadow scratchy and more than than a little sexy.

Removing my finger from his oral fissure, I repositioned it over mine, so leaned back to see if the men had taken annotation of us. They were busy bringing boxes out of the store.

"What is that?" I whispered to Garrett.

He leaned over me, gave the area a once-over, so whispered back, "Plasma cutter."

I frowned. "Why would they demand to cut plasma?"

He grinned down at me. "Desire to tell me what y'all're doing?"

"No."

"Does this accept annihilation to exercise with the shopkeep'due south electric current state of captivity?"

I bolted upright. "You know?" I asked, amazed and relieved I wasn't the but one.

He stepped back. "I saw the men in his store today when I walked past. Add together to that the fact that he looked actually uncomfortable…"

"Correct? I saw them, too," I said, only partially lying.

"What do you think we should practice about it?"

"I…" I just didn't know. What if something happened to Mr. Vandenberg because of something I did? Something I said? He'd been scared shitless that morning time, impatient for me to exit. I lowered my head. "Nothing."

I started for the dorsum door to the café.

"Aught?" he asked. He leaned back against the brick and fidgeted with a stone he'd picked up, his jiff fogging in the icy air. "You certain most that?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Why?"

"I don't know. Merely doesn't seem in your nature to do nothing. To sit back and let people suffer."

I winced at the implication, merely Mr. Vandenberg wasn't there. I would've felt him. If I tipped off the men property him captive, what would they do to him?

"What if someone gets injure because I got involved? What if I get in worse for Mr. 5 by reporting suspicious behavior? I call up they accept his family."

"Yous're right. That's solid reasoning if I e'er heard information technology. But if that's truly the case, why are you lot out hither?"

I nudged at the ice below my feet with the toe of my boots. "Just, I don't know, curious, I guess. Gathering intel to give the authorities. If I can discover where they're keeping Mr. V and his family, the cops can rescue them before the captors even know what'southward happening." When he only nodded, I asked, "Do you have a amend idea? One that doesn't become Mr. V or his family killed? I'm very fond of his kids."

He eyed me a long moment, then said, "I think your beau's getting worried about you." He nodded toward the dorsum door, where Ian stood, his effigy a silhouette confronting the soft light streaming out.

"What are you lot doing out here?"

The shadows of Garrett'due south face up formed a soft grin. "Taking a piss."

"I was telling Garrett we have a restroom inside," I said, trying to cover.

Ian walked out to join u.s.a., flabbergasted. "You strolled outside while a man was taking a piss to offer him the use of your facilities?"

"It wasn't similar tha—"

"And pubic urination is illegal."

Fuck. Ian was a cop. I tended to forget that fiddling asset of fun.

He leveled a hard gaze on Garrett, a man I was finding more intriguing by the moment, then took a footstep closer, waiting for a response.

"Aye, well, I was on my way home when the urge hitting." He was not helping. Especially when he matched Ian's stance and took a footstep closer himself. The claiming crackled in the air around us, the tension flammable.

"He wasn't actually peeing," I said, growing exasperated once more. I put a mitt on Ian's arm to defuse the situation. "I'll be inside in a minute."

Instead of appeasing him, however, I enraged him. "Don't patronize me," he said through gritted teeth, turning on me this time. His acrimony stirred the wisps of hair on my face.

Garrett took a casual stride back and leaned against the brick once again, where he stood assessing the situation, thank God. I didn't know what Ian was capable of, not entirely, but I could simply imagine what would happen to Garrett if he assaulted a cop.

I had no choice but to bring Ian into the fold. To explain our actions. "Wait, Ian, I call up – I mean, there might be something going on side by side door."

I led him away from Garrett to give us the illusion of privacy.

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"How do you know him?" he asked, completely ignoring me.

"What? Ian, I'one thousand trying to report a crime."

"You seem to know him really well."

"Are you even listening to me? I retrieve something is happening" – I lowered my vocalisation even further – "at Mr. Vandenberg's shop."

Frustrated, he finally asked, "What?"

"There are men over there. They have plasma cutters."

His eyes widened, mocking me. "Not plasma cutters."

"And today, Mr. Vandenberg seemed really upset. Like something was incorrect."

"Of grade something was wrong. His wife took the kids and left him. It's all over town."

Holy shit, that gossip chick worked fast. I wasn't going to argue with him. His listen was made up, and all he cared well-nigh was my chat with Garrett.

"Where practice you know him from? Piece of work?"

I brightened. "Aye. I deliver lunch to him sometimes. And today, he simply seemed —"

"Not Vandenberg," he said, his tone equally glisteningly precipitous as a chef's knife. "That guy. Swopes." I paused, taking note of the vehemence in his vocalisation. And the fact that he called him Swopes instead of Garrett, a name I hadn't used. Had he checked up on Garrett? Why would he exercise that? Either way, my patience had pretty much dissipated.

"You know what? I'm going to help close up. Peradventure you should go dwelling house."

He went to grab my arm, and I stepped out of his achieve.

"This is over," I whispered, throwing in a little vehemence of my ain.

"You're upset," he said, suddenly trying to defuse the state of affairs himself.

"That yous broke into my apartment? That you order me around? That you won't take 'I just want to be friends' seriously? Noooo," I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Are you really proverb nosotros're over?"

"Ian, we never began."

"I'll give you some time to think about it."

I wanted to throw my arms upwardly in exasperation. "I don't need time, Ian. I need y'all to leave."

"You don't know what you need."

This time the anger that flared effectually me was my own. I felt a wink of heat launder over me as he connected.

"I was there for yous when you had no ane."

"And I'm grateful, Ian, but you're a cop. It was your task. It doesn't mean I owe you my life."

His scowl glittered hot. "Doesn't it?"

"What the fuck is that supposed to hateful?"

He pushed abroad from me, gave Garrett one terminal glare for expert mensurate, and so strode into the café, slamming the door behind him.

"So," Garrett said, "things are good between you lot ii? You seem actually happy."

"Give thanks you for non trying to stand for me." And getting yourself arrested in the process.

"Somehow I doubt y'all needed my aid."

What a sweet thing to say.

"Crazy chicks are normally pretty tough."

Or not.

"What are you going to practise about him?"

"Ian? What do you hateful?"

"You don't actually call up that's the end of information technology?"

"Well, yeah, kind of. I mean, I merely told him it was."

"Because that works so well with psychopaths."

He had a point. I'd received conflicting vibes from him since Day Ane. He was a habitual liar, had terrible acrimony problems, and wore the same shirt for days at a time. He definitely had mental bug. And then over again, I was continuing in a dark aisle with someone I hardly knew. I turned away from him, exasperated, and saw a kid standing at the end of the alley.

"Is that Osh?" I asked Garrett.

The child stood with his hands in his pockets, his breaths fogging effectually him, so it was hard to see his face, but how many teens wore top hats? He glanced over his shoulder toward us, then merely equally rapidly turned dorsum to the street.

"Looks like it," he said.

A motorcar pulled upwards then. Osh leaned over and spoke to the driver earlier it pulled away again.

Alarmed, I asked, "Is he selling drugs?"

"Nah, I call up he'due south a male prostitute."

I gasped. Placed a hand over my heart. He was and then young. And admittedly stunning. He had his whole life ahead of him. Why?

"It'southward okay," Garrett said. "He'southward been a whore for a long time."

My heart broke until I realized he was laughing softly.

I glared at him. "Are you lot teasing me?"

"Not at all. He's a manwhore. Enquire him."

After crossing my arms, I said, "He'due south just a babe."

"Infant, my ass."

"How well do you know him?"

"I just met him today."

"Fine, I requite up. I'chiliad heading in to eat. You hungry?"

Earlier he answered, he looked downward the street to where Osh stood. In my peripheral vision I saw Osh tip his hat similar a fine gentleman, then walk away.

"I meliorate not," Garrett said. "I have some work to do."

"Your loss," I teased, but he bandage me a serious expression.

"Information technology is indeed."

Without coffee, I'm only a really tall 2-year-old.

—T-SHIRT

When I walked back into the café, the warm café, Shayla was merely placing the plates on our table. Or, well, my table, since Ian had been invited to leave.

She glanced upwards nervously. "Um, your date…"

"Left," I finished for her. "I asked him to."

"Oh, perfect, and so."

Information technology was well-nigh that fourth dimension I noticed where all the heat originated. Reyes saturday at a tabular array a few feet away, studying the card. I slowed my pace, suddenly aware of every pilus out of identify. I could only hope my lips hadn't turned blueish again.

I scooted into my booth every bit Shayla brought me some extra salsa – she knew me then well – her MedicAlert bracelet sparkling in the fluorescent light.

"Dang, girl," I said, admiring it. "You blinged-out your medical bracelet. That's cool."

She laughed and shook it and so that the fake diamonds caught every bit much low-cal equally possible. "My dad did it for me."

"He sounds fantastic."

"He is," she said, earlier walking off.

I glanced at Reyes periodically as I ate, a homo I could never take and nonetheless craved so powerfully, it scared me.

He was wearing the shirt he'd had on earlier – only buttoned up – and no jacket. That fact acquired a soft flood of alarm. Did he lie to me when he said he had another? No way was I taking his only jacket.

I wiped my hands, and so walked over to his table. I'd left the motel rather abruptly and felt I owed him an amends. At to the lowest degree, that was the excuse I was going to give for my intrusion.

He'd splashed on a hint of very expensive cologne, and it wafted toward me as I got closer. Even though he only wore the button-downwardly, he didn't seemed chilled at all. In fact, he'd rolled upward the sleeves. I was starting time to realize he was his own furnace. Generated his own heat.

He watched me walk up. Had been watching me from the moment I left my booth, his gaze shimmering below the shadow of his lashes.

When I stopped in front of him, he raised his head. "Ms. Doerr," he said, making the name sound similar a mixed drink.

"Mr. Farrow. I wanted to repent for my —"

"No, yous didn't," he interrupted, the barest hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"Fine." I pulled out a chair and saturday across from him. "Is this your only jacket?"

"No," he said. He wasn't lying, but that didn't mean he had another jacket with him. It could still be at his ex's or something.

"Yous merely chose non to clothing one tonight? On one of the coldest nights of the twelvemonth?" He didn't answer, so I continued. "Practice you need your jacket back?" I started to take it off, but he held up a hand.

"Keep it. It looks better on yous."

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Clearly he'd never looked in a mirror. Ever. "It swallows me."
"I'd consume you, too, if I could."

A combination of elation and bewilderment bucked inside me, and I lowered my head, embarrassed. "If yous need it back, will you promise to allow me know? I should take mine in a couple of days." Again he didn't respond, and so I spurred him with "Promise?"

I'd placed one mitt on the table. He reached over and touched his fingertips to mine. The contact was similar an electrical current, and my pulse stumbled on its ain crush.

"Cross my heart."

I pulled my hand abroad, confused. He was obviously even so hung up on his ex. He made no bones about it. Just he felt genuine interest in me as well. I just didn't know how to handle it. If I should steer clear until he recovered from his recent breakup or not. The last thing I wanted was to be the rebound daughter. Those relationships never lasted.

Besides, I idea as I offered a quick wave before getting upward to go out, I might already have a husband. What would he think of me?

"Can I become you lot anything else, Janey?" Shayla asked.

The café had begun to fill with women. Odd how that happened every time Reyes showed upwards. Shayla seemed to be the only i allowed to his charms, and I was pretty certain I knew why. The other two servers had things under control, so I asked Shayla to sit with me a minute.

Tomorrow was a big day. I wanted to requite Shayla as much of a fighting run a risk as Lewis, the busboy, was giving Francie. If all went as planned, Lewis'due south cousin was going to imitation-rob united states of america. Lewis was going to knock him out, and Francie was going to autumn in love. Simply I had a feeling Shayla deserved his love fashion more than Francie did. Shayla saw Lewis when Francie didn't. I felt information technology every time she looked at him.

"I can sit for a sec," she said, scooting into the booth opposite me.

"So, what do you retrieve about Lewis?"

I'd defenseless her off baby-sit. She lifted her fingertips to her mouth to chew on a nail. "I think he's pretty swell," she said from behind an alphabetize finger.

"I do, too."

One corner of her oral cavity tipped up as she thought nigh the human being she'd been in dearest with for probably quite a while. "He was so dainty to me in school."