the Second Horseman (2006) Read Online Free Page B

Dangling next to it was a thick vinyl duffle. Brandon took it down and began digging through it. A pair of boots, a towel, a set of thin farmer-John underwear, and a light, waterproof black jumpsuit.
    He stepped close to the trunk of the tree, getting out of the rain as much as possible and stripped. After drying himself off as best he could, he put on the clothes, finding they fit perfectly, and reveled for a moment in the sensation of spreading warmth.
    There was also a small backpack in the duffle containing a water bladder with a hose to allow him to drink on the run, a few energy bars, and night vision goggle s t hat he was familiar with from a job he'd done a few years back.
    He slung the pack on and stood, noticing for the first time a Polaroid photograph hanging next to the glow stick in the tree. It was a shot of the equipment he'd just put on, neatly laid out on the ground, but with one addition: a rather serious-looking hunting rifle.
    He powered up the goggles and looked around, but couldn't find the rifle. Most likely because it wasn't there. Whoever had set this up wasn't stupid. The men from the prison would track him here and be drawn to the photo by the glow stick. Nothing slowed down a thirty-grand-a-year prison guard like the thought that the guy he was chasing might be sighting him in from a hundred yards away. No real point in actually providing the rifle, though. If this thing came down to shooting, it was over.
    The phone began vibrating again and he reached down and picked it up.
    "Are you ready?"
    A few seconds ticked by before Brandon answered. "Yeah."

    Chapter FOUR
    "You wanted to see me, Richard?"
    Catherine Juarez stood in the middle of the office, hands clasped behind her back and foot tapping casually on the carpet. When she was a child he'd paid more attention: to the way she'd grown, to the dramatic changes in appearance that inevitably accompanied changes in fashion, and to what people more knowledgeable than him called phases. Now that she was a woman, though, it occurred to him that he didn't ever really look at her anymore.
    Her brow furrowed and the tapping of her foot became a bit more energetic as Richard Scanlon silently caught up on the much more subtle changes that had taken place over recent years.
    Her hair was dark, almost black, falling thick around her shoulders and partway down her back -- not the businesslike cut preferred by the other women in the office.
    Tan skin spoke partially to her father's genetic influence and partially to her lifestyle, as did her athletic build. Or maybe it was just that the older he got, the more fit these thirty-somethings looked.
    He'd hired her for a variety of reasons: her unusual combination of extraordinary intelligence and humanity, her creativity and courage, the deep loyalty born from their long history together. Interestingly, though, her appearance hadn't entered into his decision at all. Ironic that it was about to become so useful.
    "Richard? Are you all right? What did you need?"
    Scanlon leaned back in his chair and continued to examine her from across his desk. "What do you do after work?"
    "Do you have a new project? I can stay late if you --"
    He shook his head. "I mean, in the general sense. Are you dating anyone?"
    "Excuse me?"
    "A beautiful girl like yourself, I assume you have a fair number of suitors."
    "Nobody says 'suitors' anymore, Richard. Are you feeling all right?"
    "What about that musician? What was his name? Adrien? Allen?"
    Her expression melted into one of confusion. But with just a hint of suspicion. "Adam. That was in college, Richard. Ten years ago. I can't believe you remember him."
    Catherine was the closest thing he'd ever have to a daughter, and while he certainly had never tried to insinuate himself into her personal life, he paid more attention than she would have guessed. The young men had always been around, but never seemed to stay around. He wasn't sure why.
    "What about that professional skier? You