Beneath the Skin by Amy Lee Burgess

Author:Amy Lee Burgess [Burgess, Amy Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance Paranormal, romance; paranormal
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

In the car on the way to Paris, I kicked off my shoes and tried to stretch my legs but the Renault wouldn’t cooperate.

Murphy drove well. I didn’t much like being in cars since the accident. I never got behind the wheel and I never intended to again, either. I took buses and subways mostly, taxis if I absolutely had to, but I managed to keep out of private cars as much as possible.

This Renault was the first car I’d ridden in, in more than a year. Since the realtor’s car in Boston when I’d looked at condos.

I tried not to think about the fact I was in a car and instead picked up the shoe with the scuffed toe and turned it over and over in my hands, staring at it as best I could through the dashboard lights.

The sun had set and it was dark, windy too. The car buffeted back and forth on the road and I tried not to think about that, either.

Murphy and I had gotten into a fight earlier when I wouldn’t fasten my seatbelt and he’d refused to start the car until I did.

Not a fight so much as a battle of wills.

I lost.

I think that bastard would have been perfectly prepared to sleep in that car rather than drive it, and I couldn’t walk all the way to Paris. Not on stiletto heels. So I chose the lesser of two evils.

An hour in a car wearing a seatbelt. Or sleeping in one.

Murphy was still pissed off at me, because he wasn’t talking. He’d called me a selfish bitch for not wearing a seatbelt.

“You have the damndest ways of giving tribute to your dead, you know that? It’s pathetic and weak, and not particularly attractive!”

I hadn’t said anything. I’d let him yell and rant at me while I sat there and debated whether I wanted to try to walk to Paris, and whether I wanted to do what Allerton had asked us to do.

I’d agreed to give it a shot, but that was because Murphy wanted to do it. I didn’t think if I did find out somebody had deliberately caused my accident that it would in any way alleviate my guilt. Nothing could change the fact I’d been behind the wheel. Or had lived when they’d died.

“I think it’s bullshit Allerton believes I buy shoes because I’m guilty,” I remarked into the frigid silence between me and Murphy. “I bought lots of shoes way before the accident. You could ask anybody. I’ve always had more shoes than clothes.”

“I think he meant that now you buy shoes to fill the hole in your life.” Murphy unbent enough to talk to me. About five minutes after I spoke.

“Oh,” I said, embarrassed. Then I got mad. “That bastard. Fuck him.”

“I admit I grow vegetables so I don’t have to think about anything,” Murphy said. His voice was calm, reasonable--serene even--as if it didn’t even bother him to be dissected by a Councilor. Did the

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