Sadie's Spirit by CB Samet (best book reader TXT) 📕
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- Author: CB Samet
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Asher pushed the key into the lock and turned it.
“Look out!” Sadie cried as the door opened.
A fist came flying at Asher’s face. He dodged, but not soon enough. Pain exploded through his jaw and blurred his vision for a second.
A man in a hoodie came at him again. Asher chucked his half-cup of coffee in the man’s face, causing the intruder to stumble backward. The man ducked his head and plowed into Asher’s midsection in an attempt to tackle him as he might a quarterback. He managed to push Asher back several steps, right out onto the motel sidewalk, before Asher grabbed him by his pant waist and flung him aside.
The assailant rolled, sprung to his feet and dashed toward his blue Ford Escort. He dove into the driver’s seat and started the engine.
Furious and wanting to finish the fight, Asher ran after him, but the man was already advancing out of his parking space. Asher sprinted alongside the car, smashing his fist against the driver side window. The glass cracked. In a flurry of squealing rubber, the driver accelerated away from him.
Asher slowed to a jog before stopping to catch his breath.
Sadie.
He ran back to the motel room. “Sadie!”
“Relax, fireman. He can’t hurt me.”
He looked around the room, noting that the computer was still on the desk. Shattered glass from the light bulb littered the desk and floor.
He arched an eyebrow. “Is this your handiwork?”
She grinned. “I stopped him from taking it.”
“You did great. He didn’t have a beard, so I’m guessing that’s not the guy.”
“No, not the guy.”
“I bet he knows the killer, though. I would have liked to have the opportunity to chat with him about that for a few minutes.”
“Sorry about your coffee.”
He looked over his shoulder at the empty cup and the liquid soaking into the carpet. “At least I got half of it down me on the way back. I’m functional.”
“You need peas again.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Your jaw’s swelling. You need another bag of frozen peas.”
“It’s not so bad.” He closed the door and secured the top bolt. Then he picked up the coffee cup and tossed it into the trash.
“Did you make any progress on the computer?” Using a hand towel, he swept the glass off the desk and into a small trash basin.
“I finished merging the data sets. Now I just have to do the calculations.”
He sat down in front of the computer and opened it. “What can I do?”
Asher tried to follow her directions, but he didn’t know half the statistical analysis terms she was using to describe the software functions. She resorted to pointing and saying, “Click here,” and “Now click here.”
After a pause, Sadie said, “This is gonna take forever. Let me do it.” She sat on his lap and began typing.
He tried to sit back to give her the front of the chair, but when he looked down he saw that she was mostly sitting in rather than on him. Heat spread through his thighs and groin where his body met with her spirit.
“Sadie,” he said, his voice strained.
“What?” She stopped typing and turned to face him. She looked down at his growing erection. “Oh.”
“Stand up. I’ll give you the chair.”
She stood.
Asher stumbled out of the chair and backed up, bumping into the bed.
She slid close to him, almost touching. “I can help with that.”
He swallowed.
“I want to help with that.” Her voice was breathless, and she was glowing again. She looked angelic in the soft, yellow light.
He tried to back away further, but instead fell helplessly backward onto the bed.
Sadie crawled onto the bed over him, her hair spilling forward. She kissed his aching jaw, filling the spot with a warm, tingling sensation. Her hands stroked his hair, warming his scalp even if his hair barely moved. She seemed more solid with each touch. Her body brushed against his, sending heat and arousal coursing through his veins. Her gaze roamed his body as she glowed brighter, like liquid honey in the sun. The sensation she gave him was sublime, like warm silk draped over his body.
“Sadie,” he rasped.
She paused, staring at him with her beautiful brown eyes and a smile on her full lips.
“We need to finish the investigation. The intruder could come back armed or with backup, or both.”
She moved off his body and lay next to him on the bed, her eyes filled with a mixture of adoration and longing.
He didn’t have words for the yearning he felt for her. He wished he could at least hold her to convey his feelings.
Alejandro kissed the pendant around his neck before tucking it back into his shirt. He drove furiously until he reached his cousin’s house. Fallen yellow, orange, and red leaves had covered the lawn with a thick blanket. It was toward the end of October; close to Día de los Muertos.
That would explain the ghost in the hotel room. The doctor’s ghost. It had to be.
He shuddered at the thought. Her anger had chilled the room, and she knew his face now. What if she thought he was the killer? Would Dr. Crawford’s apparition come after him?
He let the car idle on his cousin’s driveway while he called Ledo.
“You get the computer, hombre?”
“No.”
“Why not? You’ve been on stakeout out all night.”
“The dude’s a firefighter. He could bench-press me.” Alejandro recalled the way Asher had tossed him aside like a sack of beans. His punch had barely stunned the gringo. Fortunately, the coffee had only been warm, not scalding.
“I gave you a gun a week ago.”
Good thieves didn’t use guns. “I’m not killing anyone.”
“You don’t have to kill anyone. You just need to get the damn computer. El Jefe’s on my ass about it.”
Never pull a gun unless you intend to use it.
Alejandro’s older brother had taught him the rules of gun handling, right up until he had died in a gunfight.
“‘El hilo siempre se rompe por lo más delgado.’” Ledo half-mumbled, half-growled the words.
“Are you calling me the weakest link, pendejo?”
“I’m calling you weak. We need to finish this job so we can get the rest of the money.”
The moment Dr. Crawford’s ghost entered the playing field, money had become less important to Alejandro.
“The doctor’s espíritu is protecting the computer.”
Ledo snorted. “Not this nonsense again. Have you gone loco?”
“She moved things. She stopped me from stealing the computer.”
“Qué pasó? What are you telling me, Alejandro? You quitting?”
“I’m not taking on a ghost and a firefighter.”
“Fine, I’ll keep your cut. What’s this big boy’s name?”
“No lo sé,” Alejandro lied. It was his secret to keep.
Ledo hung up the phone.
“Árbol que nace torcido, jamás su tronco endereza,” Alejandro said aloud to himself. His great-aunt had often used this phrase, which translated as, “A tree that is born twisted never grows straight.”
Perhaps Dr. Crawford would see Ledo when he went to finish the job. With luck, she would focus her revenge on Ledo and forget all about him.
Alejandro climbed out of the car. He felt tired and miserable after the stakeout and the fight.
He knocked on the door.
“Alejandro!” His cousin greeted him warmly.
“Anita,” he replied, partly relieved to see a friendly face, partly dreading her response when he told her what had happened.
She wore her hair in a chaotic updo akin to the haphazard nest of a groove-billed ani. Her Atlanta Braves T-shirt was two sizes too small and threatened to tear as it stretched across a generous pair of breasts.
They had grown up in the same neighborhood, and Anita had known his great-aunt. He was confident that she would know what to do.
Anita opened the door and ushered him inside. “The kids are at their father’s this weekend, but I have to go to work in an hour.”
He took a seat on her couch.
“What’s wrong?” She sat across from him and tapped her hand on her leg impatiently. Her fingernails were decorated for Halloween: long black acrylics with white skulls.
“I think I offended a ghost.”
Her eyes opened wide. “What happened?”
He knew she, of all people, would understand. He explained the
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