[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Dillinger found the drama of the parking spot, he also couldn t wait to get
home. He felt worse than he usually did. His stomach hurt so badly he was
bent over slightly at the waist. If things continued, he was going to be five
and a half feet tall rather than a strapping six feet.
Scoot. Betty waved him away with orange and black sparkly nails.
80 Anitra Lynn McLeod
If we are invaded by aliens or surrounded by hooligans, we ll call. But
don t count on it. When the command center phone rang, Betty startled,
picked it up, and said, Police department. She listened intently then
turned to Dillinger and rolled her eyes dramatically. Into the phone, she
politely asked, You say several children have knocked on your door and
demanded candy? As kindly as humanly possible, Betty reminded the
caller that it was in fact Halloween night.
Dillinger bit his lips to hold back his mirth until he got to the lobby, and
then he let it fly. Imagine that. Children wanting candy on Halloween. The
nerve! He chuckled as he walked out of the department and into the way
too warm October air. It was the first genuine laughter he d uttered in
weeks, and it gave him the energy to get in his car and drive home.
Once there, he took off his jacket, hung it in the hall, then tossed
himself down on the couch. His place was a mess. When he did summon
the strength to cook, he couldn t get his ass in gear to clean up afterward.
If he managed to get the dishes in the dishwasher, he no longer cared how
they were arraigned. Basically they stayed there until they were all used
again anyway because he was too tired to put them away. He d kept up
with his laundry by sheer force of will. If he showed up to work slovenly,
he d get noticed for sure, and not in a good way, so he kept his mess
hidden behind the closed door of his home. Hell, he d gotten so depressed
he didn t even open the drapes anymore. He didn t want people passing
by to see his shame.
Aw, fuck! He d forgotten all about tonight. He got up, went to the
kitchen cabinet, pulled down the bag of candy he d bought several weeks
ago, dumped it into a bowl, and set it by the door.
He then considered what was visible from that sightline and did an
impromptu moving of the random crap that had accumulated in his foyer,
hallway, and living room. Dillinger didn t clean so much as he rearranged
his mounds of garbage. If nosy neighbors happened to glance inside, they d
see nothing out of the ordinary, which was good, but his hopes for a night
in front of the tube went right out the window. The neighborhood where he
lived was filled with kids.
As if summoned by his thoughts, his doorbell rang and a chorus of
Dedicated Alpha 81
trick or treat rang out.
Plastering a smile to his face, he cupped the bowl with one hand,
opened the door with the other, and proceeded to dispense tooth-
destroying goodies to costumed children. He repeated this process ad
nauseam. Once the hour struck nine, Dillinger noticed the frequency of
doorbell ringing decreased sharply. By ten there was barely a trickle, and
he hoped with all his might that the night was done. Not that he thought he
was going to get any sleep, just that he wanted to crawl into his bed and
stare at the ceiling until the sandman finally took pity on him and whisked
him away to the land of nod. There, Dillinger would spend the night in
taunting dreams where Luke was just out of his reach, but at least he could
gain a little shuteye for another day of trying to forget.
When the bell rang at ten thirty, Dillinger didn t bother to look through
the peephole. He just grabbed the candy and turned the knob. After this,
he was going to turn off the porch light, take a shower, then toss himself
into bed. Dillinger ended up opening the door to a group of large men. His
eyes widened when he realized not a one of them was dressed up or had
kids in tow.
Shit! Dillinger tried to slam the door, his muddled mind thinking it
was a home invasion robbery, but one man who was roughly the size of his
refrigerator body-blocked the entrance and pushed his way in. Behind him
came another five guys. Panic gave way to compassion when Dillinger
realized two of them were carrying Luke.
Luke. Dillinger s belly stopped aching as soon as he saw him, but
when he got a really good look at Luke, Dillinger s alarm deepened. Luke
looked ghastly. What the hell is wrong with him? Two of the giant men
carried Luke inside, and then Dillinger noticed that Dylan Peterson was
slumped into another man. Luke and Dylan looked as bad as Dillinger felt.
What the hell is going on?
The big guy who had led the invasion wrapped his arm around Dillinger
while another took the candy bowl from Dillinger s unresisting hand.
We hate to do things like this, the big guy said, but you two idiots
have left us no other choice. He drug Dillinger into the living room and
settled him on the couch.
82 Anitra Lynn McLeod [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl szkicerysunki.xlx.pl
Dillinger found the drama of the parking spot, he also couldn t wait to get
home. He felt worse than he usually did. His stomach hurt so badly he was
bent over slightly at the waist. If things continued, he was going to be five
and a half feet tall rather than a strapping six feet.
Scoot. Betty waved him away with orange and black sparkly nails.
80 Anitra Lynn McLeod
If we are invaded by aliens or surrounded by hooligans, we ll call. But
don t count on it. When the command center phone rang, Betty startled,
picked it up, and said, Police department. She listened intently then
turned to Dillinger and rolled her eyes dramatically. Into the phone, she
politely asked, You say several children have knocked on your door and
demanded candy? As kindly as humanly possible, Betty reminded the
caller that it was in fact Halloween night.
Dillinger bit his lips to hold back his mirth until he got to the lobby, and
then he let it fly. Imagine that. Children wanting candy on Halloween. The
nerve! He chuckled as he walked out of the department and into the way
too warm October air. It was the first genuine laughter he d uttered in
weeks, and it gave him the energy to get in his car and drive home.
Once there, he took off his jacket, hung it in the hall, then tossed
himself down on the couch. His place was a mess. When he did summon
the strength to cook, he couldn t get his ass in gear to clean up afterward.
If he managed to get the dishes in the dishwasher, he no longer cared how
they were arraigned. Basically they stayed there until they were all used
again anyway because he was too tired to put them away. He d kept up
with his laundry by sheer force of will. If he showed up to work slovenly,
he d get noticed for sure, and not in a good way, so he kept his mess
hidden behind the closed door of his home. Hell, he d gotten so depressed
he didn t even open the drapes anymore. He didn t want people passing
by to see his shame.
Aw, fuck! He d forgotten all about tonight. He got up, went to the
kitchen cabinet, pulled down the bag of candy he d bought several weeks
ago, dumped it into a bowl, and set it by the door.
He then considered what was visible from that sightline and did an
impromptu moving of the random crap that had accumulated in his foyer,
hallway, and living room. Dillinger didn t clean so much as he rearranged
his mounds of garbage. If nosy neighbors happened to glance inside, they d
see nothing out of the ordinary, which was good, but his hopes for a night
in front of the tube went right out the window. The neighborhood where he
lived was filled with kids.
As if summoned by his thoughts, his doorbell rang and a chorus of
Dedicated Alpha 81
trick or treat rang out.
Plastering a smile to his face, he cupped the bowl with one hand,
opened the door with the other, and proceeded to dispense tooth-
destroying goodies to costumed children. He repeated this process ad
nauseam. Once the hour struck nine, Dillinger noticed the frequency of
doorbell ringing decreased sharply. By ten there was barely a trickle, and
he hoped with all his might that the night was done. Not that he thought he
was going to get any sleep, just that he wanted to crawl into his bed and
stare at the ceiling until the sandman finally took pity on him and whisked
him away to the land of nod. There, Dillinger would spend the night in
taunting dreams where Luke was just out of his reach, but at least he could
gain a little shuteye for another day of trying to forget.
When the bell rang at ten thirty, Dillinger didn t bother to look through
the peephole. He just grabbed the candy and turned the knob. After this,
he was going to turn off the porch light, take a shower, then toss himself
into bed. Dillinger ended up opening the door to a group of large men. His
eyes widened when he realized not a one of them was dressed up or had
kids in tow.
Shit! Dillinger tried to slam the door, his muddled mind thinking it
was a home invasion robbery, but one man who was roughly the size of his
refrigerator body-blocked the entrance and pushed his way in. Behind him
came another five guys. Panic gave way to compassion when Dillinger
realized two of them were carrying Luke.
Luke. Dillinger s belly stopped aching as soon as he saw him, but
when he got a really good look at Luke, Dillinger s alarm deepened. Luke
looked ghastly. What the hell is wrong with him? Two of the giant men
carried Luke inside, and then Dillinger noticed that Dylan Peterson was
slumped into another man. Luke and Dylan looked as bad as Dillinger felt.
What the hell is going on?
The big guy who had led the invasion wrapped his arm around Dillinger
while another took the candy bowl from Dillinger s unresisting hand.
We hate to do things like this, the big guy said, but you two idiots
have left us no other choice. He drug Dillinger into the living room and
settled him on the couch.
82 Anitra Lynn McLeod [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]