Skygods (Hydraulic #2) Read Free Page A

house sign, that I’d tell you to your face. I was a bastard for doing it, and it worked. You divorced me.”
    By the time he finished his explanation, his voice had grown low and hoarse.
    “Samuel…” I didn’t know how to finish. Yes, it had been a bastard thing to do? Tell him it didn’t matter anymore because it was seven years ago?
    “I was arrogant,” he said quietly, “thinking I knew what was best for you. Even up to a few hours ago, I was so certain I could never again pull that stunt like I did with the keep-out sign on the tree house when we were kids—leaving you high and dry with no way down? I was ready to open your letter and find someone else’s writing on that sheet of paper. You think I’d be used to this—discovering what I’m capable of. But it always shocks me.”
    I had an odd feeling that he wasn’t really talking to me anymore. I cleared my throat, reminding him I was still here.
    “What if we had a handwriting expert examine it? I mean, there is a possibility you didn’t write it, correct?”
    He sighed. “No, Kaye. Just let that idea go. I’m sorry I put it into your brain.”
    I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see it. “No. I’m glad you told me what you were thinking. It makes the whole friendship thing a lot easier when we actually talk to each other,” I teased.
    “Yes, I suppose it does. I enjoy sharing my thoughts with you. But you know what I enjoy even more?”
    “What?”
    “When you tell me your thoughts.”
    “Well, right now I’m wishing I knew what your home looks like. This is embarrassing, but I have no clue where you live—the Upper East Side?”
    “No, Inwood, near Fort Tryon Park. I’m a Westsider.”
    I blinked, surprised. So much for my visions of Samuel as a well-heeled, silk-stocking snob. “Maybe you can send me a picture so I can visualize you there.”
    I could hear his smile. “I’ll do that. It’s beautiful, lots of trails and wooded areas overlooking the Hudson River and the bluffs. At the base of my bluff is north Broadway, and it’s a different world—grittier, vibrant. I think you’d like it. Kaye?”
    “Yes?”
    He cleared his throat. “For what it’s worth, the content of that note is a complete and utter lie. It was a lie then and it’s a lie now. Do you believe me?”
    “Yeah,” I exhaled. “I believe you.” I glanced at the time, knowing I needed to let him go. “Good night, Samuel.”
    “Good night, Kaye. I miss you.”
    When I returned to the living room, Molly and Jaime lifted significant eyebrows at me.
    “Are you going het on me, lover?” Jaime quipped.
    I rolled my eyes. Ever since I’d pretended to be her lesbian life partner in a desperate bid to get answers from Samuel, she’d been merciless.
    “I suppose this year’s Pride rally is out,” she continued. “I want my Bryn Mawr sweatshirt back. Oh, and I’ll need to turn in my dossier of Samuel’s evils.”
    I slapped a hand to my forehead. “Frickin’ monkey junk, I completely forgot about that thing. Yes, burn it, shred it, whatever you need to do. I’ll get rid of mine, too.”
    “Are you ever going to tell Cabral about our little research project?”
    I thought of my lie list and the whole mess of crap we’d cleared up. But so much still lingered, like the embarrassing lengths I’d been willing to go for revenge. Heck, we hadn’t even gotten around to talking about Samuel’s public intox arrest several years ago. Would he be ticked over Jaime’s and my plotting? Oh yeah. Would he forgive me? Yes, he would. Maybe if I explained I was concerned about Caroline’s manipulations.
    Caroline Ortega, Samuel’s publicist extraordinaire. She was an enigma. She obviously hated me. But how much of her was genuine and how much was show? Samuel was certain he’d written the note, but I wasn’t so sure.
    “Molly, did I tell you that Caroline was the woman who helped me in New York City all those years ago?”
    “No!” Her eyes