Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set) Blake Banner (love books to read .TXT) 📖

a Carolina reaper, and I’d like nothing better than to take what you’re offering, Emma, whether you’re offering it or not. But before we get close and cozy, you are going to understand. I don’t need you. You didn’t get to me. And I will walk away from you the moment you stop being useful.”

Her cheeks flushed with anger. I didn’t think she could look any more desirable, and right then it was all I could do to keep up my façade of cool indifference. Her voice came as a hiss. “You bastard…”

“You’re beginning to get the idea.”

“I came to you for help!”

“So tell me what you need, and I’ll tell you how much it’s going to cost you.”

She put her drink down. “You really expect me to sit here and put up with this?”

“Yeah, I do. And the sooner you realize I’m not going to be suckered into being your Sir Galahad, the better. Now, what’s the deal?”

Tears sprang into her eyes, and she looked away. After a moment, she picked up her drink and took a hefty pull, then started to talk.

“I was born in England…”

“That’s not news, Emma.”

“Just shut up, John! Just stop talking and try to stop being quite so vile, will you? I am telling you, so just shut up and listen!”

She’d finished her drink. She thrust her glass at me, and while I went to refill it, she started talking again.

“My parents weren’t rich, but we were comfortably off. We had a comfortable home in Chichester, in West Sussex. My father was a successful solicitor, what you would call an attorney, and my mother stayed at home to look after us…”

“Us?”

She was silent for a moment, staring into her drink. “Myself and my sister. We were happy. My father’s great passion was sailing. Most weekends we would take the yacht out and sail to the Isle of Wight, or down the coast towards Portsmouth.”

She had become drawn and pale.

I allowed some humanity into my voice and asked, “What happened?”

“I was six, my sister was only five. The weather in England is very unpredictable. It was early September, and we had set out early in the morning. The sea was like a sheet of glass. There was a moderate breeze, and the sun was shining.” She smiled. “It was a glorious day, and we were all very happy. Mummy had packed a lovely luncheon, and Daddy was in good form, joking and laughing.

“We were a few miles off the Isle of Wight, headed out into the open channel, when there was a severe weather warning over the radio. Very shortly after that, the weather began to change. We weren’t worried. We had been in storms before. Daddy was a very good seaman, and so was my mother, for that matter. My sister and I were packed below to play cards, and Daddy set a course back to the Chichester Channel. I remember they were talking about having a heartwarming pint at the pub in Dell Quay when we arrived.” She sipped her drink. “Only we never made it to Dell Quay. I don’t know what happened. I can only go by what I heard. We were tacking in towards the Chichester Harbor, and as we were coming about, one of the sheets got caught. My mother went to release it but failed to lash herself to the rail. We were struck by a large wave and she was swept overboard. It happened in a matter of seconds.”

She stopped talking. She gave a small shrug. It was an eloquent gesture that said it just didn’t make any sense.

“I heard my father scream. We saw him scramble past the hatch. We never heard him fall in. The noise of the storm was awful. That was it. We sat there as the storm battered the boat, knocking it sideways to the wind. We were lucky not to be capsized. It was a miracle really.

“We were seen by another yacht also heading in for port. They radioed the lifeboat, and somehow they managed to tow us in to safety. Their bodies were never found.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

She spoke into her drink. Her voice was bitter. “Forgive me if I am boring you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“My sister and I went into care and were put up for adoption. Very few families will take two children. I was adopted by a very loving couple in Surrey. I suppose I never did forgive them for not taking my sister. I think I cried more the day she and I were separated than when my parents died. For a while, they used to take me to visit her, but shortly after that, she was adopted too, by an American family.” She heaved a big sigh. “It’s a lot for a little six-year-old to take in, John. A lot of loss to assimilate when you are that small. I didn’t cry the day they took her away to the airport. I tried to stay strong for her. But something had died inside me.”

I knew the answer, but I asked anyway. “Where did they take her?”

“To San Francisco.”

“Tamara Gunthersen was your sister?”

“Tamara is my sister.”

“She’s still alive?”

She nodded.

“Where?”

She faced me and she looked haggard. Her sleek beauty had been replaced by drawn, gray despair. “John, I am desperate. I need help. I will do anything, just name it, anything you want. But for God’s sake, you have to help us.”

“We’ll come to that. First, what is the trouble you’re in? And second, where is Tamara?”

She stood and walked to the window. She parted the drapes a little and looked out at the black street.

“She contacted me a couple of years ago. She was very excited. She said she’d been offered a job. She called it a gig.