Warrior

Warrior Read Free

Book: Warrior Read Free
Author: Angela Knight
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you didn’t show up in court to testify so the judge could throw his ass in jail.” Wearily, Jessica raked her fingers through her hair, knowing perfectly well she was leaving streaks of paint through it. “He’s going to kill you one of these days.”
    â€œMaybe tonight.” Her sister dug into a pocket for a battered pack of Virginia Slims and a box of matches. The box slipped from shaking fingers as she lit the cigarette, but typically, she didn’t bother to pick it up. “Look, just give me the two hundred. I swear, I’ll stay away from him from here on ...”
    â€œTwo hundred? What the hell did you buy from Billy Dean that cost two hundred dollars? I still have to pay my half of the rent! If I give you that much, I’m going to be seriously short!”
    Ruby snorted a plume of smoke. “And if you don’t, I’m going to be seriously dead.”
    â€œDammit, you can’t run a tab with Billy Dean. He’d kill you over a two-hundred-dollar debt as soon as spit.” If only to send a warning to all his other crack-addict customers.
    â€œYeah, I know, it was stupid, but—I needed it bad.”
    â€œYou always ‘need it bad.’ Why in the hell did he give you that much rock to begin with?”
    Bruised eyes flickered. “He didn’t exactly give it to me. I was over at his place last night. You know. Partying. He got real drunk. . . .”
    â€œAnd you smoked all his crack when he passed out.” Jessica swore in a long, ripe roll. “You’re lucky he didn’t kill you when he came to.”
    Ruby gave her a sickly smile. “I wasn’t exactly there when he came to.”
    â€œShit.” Her stomach slid into an anxious tumble. Ruby was right. If her sister didn’t have the money by the time Billy Dean tracked her down, he really would beat her to death.
    Jessica stalked across the living room to her purse and dug for her billfold with paint-stained fingers. She pulled out the roll of tips she’d carefully hoarded over the past week from her job at the restaurant. She’d have to find some other way to make up the difference in her half of the rent.
    Maybe that gallery dealer would buy a painting. . . .
    Galar stood wrapped in darkness and tension as he watched the house. He relaxed only slightly as Ruby pushed open the front door, clattered down the brick steps, and jumped back into her battered car. Tires slung gravel as she sped away.
    She’d later tell the cops she’d gone off to visit her drug dealer.
    Time?
    2100 hours.
    Nine p.m. He grunted. According to the police report he’d seen, the attack would come sometime around 2300, or eleven o’clock. That estimate could be off by a couple of hours either way, which was why Galar and his team had arrived so early to stake out the scene. If they meant to save Jessica Kelly’s life, they had to be ready for anything, anytime.
    The blood the police would find splashed all over the living room tomorrow would be identified as Jessica’s, and the coroner would report that the woman couldn’t have survived. She would never be seen again. Everyone from law enforcement to art historians would believe she’d ended up in an unmarked grave.
    Galar’s team was the only hope she had of survival— assuming the would-be murderer was indeed a time traveler. If sensors indicated the killer was a native of 2008, there would be nothing they could do. They’d be forbidden to interfere.
    Actually, had police already found Jessica’s body, Galar and his partners would have been forbidden even to make the attempt to save her. And if they had tried, they’d have failed. You couldn’t change history.
    Still, he thought there was a chance. When he’d run across the police report while scanning the Outpost’s historical records, his gut had told him this was a temporal crime. A twenty-third-century collector would pay a

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