Red Silk Scarf Read Free Page B

squeaky clean?    Then again,
what woman could fight off such a giant of a man?   What woman, in her right mind, would?   Preposterous reflections she quickly
smothered.   Emotions could not stray on
this assignment.   She was up to her neck
and then some.   Most importantly, the
Brady name was at stake.  

 
    There was a
serial killer out there.   All the
information collected and scrutinized pointed disturbingly in one direction,
someone linked to law enforcement.   A
thorough investigation meant scrutinizing each officer, first on the list those
most suspicious.   Tonight, Cassidy was
riding in the backseat of their patrol car the wrong place to be when all hell
breaks loose, her thought processes suddenly obliterated by the combination of
the scanner and Sullivan's quick reflexes that spun the patrol car around
barely missing a parked car.  

 
    Men bearing
knifes were fighting two blocks away, the dispatcher relayed.   Lights ablaze, siren screaming, within
seconds they invaded the scene.   The
speed, the siren, the exhilaration, a rush Cassidy did not anticipate.

 
    The very instant
the car screeched to an abrupt halt, both officers leaped from its confines
shoulder butting their way through a crowd that were cheering, jeering, and
egging the fighters on.   Consumed by
curiosity, frustration and an unexpected concern for two men she‘d just met,
Cassidy joined them.  

 
    As she charged
the scene Cassidy wondered why Pinkert and Sullivan distressed her so
considering, they were strangers.   Still,
frantically she pushed, and shoved trying to gain a peak.   One peak, that's all she wanted, a sight that
brought a hand to her lips just in time to muffle a surprised squeal.  

 
    Two African
Americans were fighting, clad in leather, covered with tattoos and wearing
bandanas both smeared with blood from slashed skin and punctures.   In the midst of eminent danger, Patrick and
Mark separated them, never for a second hesitating, nor showing signs of
fear.  

 
    God, they were
crazy for being so damn brave, Cassidy whined, particularly since the
illumination from the streetlights reflecting off the weapons exposed the large
size of the saw tooth blades slashing and jabbing.   She couldn't watch any more, simply couldn't,
but did anyway, her eyes uncontrollable as they followed one man in particular.

 
    What was wrong
with her tonight, or, did it actually begin months ago upon first examining
Sullivan's picture a time when a scary feeling in the pit of her stomach told
her she knew this person, that somehow, in some way they were connected.   Having taken numerous psychology courses over
the years she learned to search people’s eyes for the soul within, Sullivan's
sparked her suspicion.   Mystery lurked
within those sky blue orbs.   She supposed
for the first time she could be wrong.   Now, for some peculiar reason, she hoped so.  

 
    Surely, Sullivan
wasn't God's gift to women she lied to herself.   Then why upon observing his strength and agility was there an undeniable
physical attraction?   Her emotional
upheaval was pathetic she whined.   Having
chosen a life of social recluse, with law enforcement her soul purpose, she
never allowed any man into her heart.   It
would be too dangerous to permit Sullivan to be anything other than a
suspect.   Then again, maybe it was the
“danger” drawing her to him.

 
    Pressing his knee
into the back of a much larger man thrown on his stomach to the pavement for
hand cuffing, with one yank Sullivan hauled the prisoner to his feet.   At that, moment Cassidy realized in just a
few hours she'd learned a great deal.   Who would have thought on the edge of darkness one could become
enlightened?    

 
    Sullivan had a
temper, one easily directed toward a woman.    Not only was he strong, quick, and agile, but street smart, qualities
necessary to survive ten years of hell, and, though his shirt was slashed and
blood stained, he'd