Your Eight O'clock is Dead by Kat Jorgensen

Author:Kat Jorgensen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Maralan Press

Ryder dropped Dr. Dick off first, thank goodness since we accomplished the trip over there in near dead silence. Ryder tried engaging him in conversation a couple of times, but my boss answered in monosyllables. A pervasive blackness hung over the ride like we were on a short track to Hell.

But almost as soon as Dr. Dick got out of the SUV, the mood lightened. I could breathe again without feeling like I was sucking on cotton. My head cleared and my pulse returned to a more normal and familiar beat.

“You’re looking better.” Ryder smiled at me. I couldn’t see his eyes behind the dark glasses he wore, but there were crinkle lines around the corners of his eyes, always a good sign. “Just a friendly piece of advice. I know how much this job means to you. Try to keep a low profile for the next few weeks.”

Like I’d been trying to keep a high profile before? I couldn’t help O’Malley dying in the office. And I couldn’t help Mr. Nightingale’s spaceship attack. “Nothing has been my fault,” I blurted out.

“I’m aware of that. Dick and Marcy are too. But every time something bad happens that’s connected to the practice, you seem to be right there in the thick of things. It’s guilt by association.” He glanced over at me to make sure I paid attention.

“It’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair. You know that. Keep a low profile. Everything will work out.”

I knew Ryder meant well, but I couldn’t bear one more person lecturing me. Besides, I hated Ryder treating me like a kid, and still burned from the ditz remark he’d made to Dr. Daley.

Before we could discuss it further, we arrived at my granddad’s house. “Would you like to come in for dinner?” The offer seemed like the least I could do, although the last person I wanted Ryder around was Granddad. Goodness knows what he’d come up with to embarrass me this time as if I weren’t doing a bang-up job of it myself.

“I’d love to,” he replied as my breathing temporarily ceased, “but I’m working late tonight.”

For an accountant, Ryder sure worked a lot of late nights and irregular hours. The green-eyed monster inside of me roared to life. “Spending time with sunglass lady?” I blurted out.

Oh, damn.

To my utter shock, he didn’t take offense. “No, I’m not,” he said with surprising equanimity. “This has nothing to do with that client.” He reached past me and opened the door. “Take it easy. See you tomorrow.”

I sighed. “Thanks for everything, Ryder.”

He shocked me again by reaching out and stroking the back of his hand along the curve of my cheek.

“You’re welcome. I suspect my life would be very dull if you didn’t work across the hall.”

I couldn’t think of a thing to say other than Wonka, Wonka, Wonka. Before I could be so idiotic, I got out in a daze. With a friendly wave, he took off.

Cool it, I warned myself.

Ryder was a friend. Today, he’d saved my job and given me some good advice.

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