"Coughlin, Patricia - Love In The First Degree" - читать интересную книгу автора (Coughlin Patricia)Love in the first degree
by Unknown Prologue Already the room smelled like blood. Luke Cabrio felt the skin at the back of his neck prickle as he stared down at the body on the floor at his feet. Nick Addison looked pretty dead, all right. He also looked.. stunned, Luke decided. As if he hadn't expected the bullet that had caught him square in the throat and driven him onto his back between two Queen Anne chairs. No reason he should have expected it, Luke thought. Seldom is a bully attuned to when his victim has been pushed as far as possible before lashing out in return. As far as Luke was concerned, Nick Addison was a bully of the very worst sort. The man's blood had splattered across the chair's ivory brocade seat cushions and made a wide, dark stain on the pale carpet. It spread out on either side of his head, reminding Luke of the ink blots a shrink used. Butterfly wings. The inane thought about how the hotel's housekeeping staff was going to have their work cut out for them trying to clean up this mess. Addison was a big man, at least six feet two and two hundred and twenty pounds, and when he fell he'd knocked over a small, oval, cherry-wood table, sending the lamp and clock on it flying. Using the hand not holding the gun, Luke managed to right the table and the lamp. There wasn t much he could do about the clock, however. Its black plastic casing hadn't survived the fall. He replaced it on the table anyway and watched for a moment to see if the time would change. He craved some sign of normality, evidence that outside this room life was going on just as routinely as it had a few minutes ago. The block numbers remained eerily fixed on 9:17, however, and Luke finally looked away. Chalk up another casualty for this night, he thought grimly, steeling himself for what he knew he had to do. Four years as the security manager for the Delta Queen Hotel and Casino and until now he'd never been the one to check on a corpse. Ironic that his first should be a corpse of his own making. He went down on one knee and with his free hand carefully felt for a pulse beneath Addison's left ear. He couldn't seem to let go of the damn gun. Addison felt warm and slightly damp and very still. Luke leaned closer, moving his fingertips a quarter inch one way, then |
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