Copyright © 2015 by Suzanne Halliday
THE GIDEON AFFAIR
ISBN: 978-0-9961894-9-1
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by an means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
This book is meant for mature readers who are 18+. It contains explicit language, and graphic sexual content.
Edited by Editing for Indies
Book Cover Design by Sara Eirew
Formatting By Champagne Formats
Cover Modeclass="underline" Pierre-Luc Lanthier
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
QUOTE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
OTHER BOOKS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
“I remember a time when a cabbage could sell itself by being a cabbage. Nowadays it’s no good being a cabbage – unless you have an agent and pay him a commission.”
– Jean Giraudoux , The Madwoman of Chaillot
“Oh, no. Here he comes,” an anxious gasp next to her declared. “Move. I’m squished.”
“Shh,” she snapped in a harsh whisper. “And stop fidgeting. Just be quiet and we’ll be fine.”
Peering through a crack in the closet door where they hid, Paige’s breath caught when the door to the trailer whooshed open. It hit the siding with a tremendous bang, making her companion flinch.
Flashing a menacing glare and a silently delivered, “Shh,” she elbowed the young woman by her side and hoped their sounds didn’t give them away.
Voices carried from outside, but she wasn’t able to make out what was said. Didn’t matter, not really. All she cared about was that he came into the trailer by himself. Catching him alone was imperative. No way did she want an audience.
There was a thud, followed shortly by another. Slow, plodding footsteps and grunts accompanied his climb up the short steps. A moment of heavy silence fell. Paige wondered if they’d been discovered, but then a long, drawn-out sigh drifted through the air, and she relaxed.
So far, so good.
Careful not to make so much as a rustling sound, she tilted her head to the side and peeked through the crack again. Even turned as he was with most of his back to her, she’d recognize the man anywhere.
Looking an awful lot like a refugee from a homeless camp, he wore a long coat that at one time might have been a khaki color but was now filthy and splattered with dirt and grime.
Hunched over slightly as if the effort to stand straight was too much, he shuffled to the couch—the exertion bringing a strained groan from his throat.
Beside her, a stifled giggle at the man’s obvious distress got Paige’s eyes rolling. Talk about laughing at the wrong damn time!
A mighty croak, something that landed halfway between a grunt and cry, echoed as he tore off the dirty overcoat and flung it aside. Not that it made much difference. The clothes beneath it were equally disheveled and grimy.
Clutching the back of the sofa, he leaned for a brief second, and then, with a tremendous growl, he tore at his shirt until the sides hung open.
Paige shrank back in mute concern. Damn. She hadn’t considered that he might get undressed while they skulked in the closet. Now, what should she do? Decisions, decisions.
The sound of a brief struggle, typical for an elderly man taking his clothes off, got her heart thumping. And then there was a loud clunk and a half-muttered curse.
One more peek and then she’d decide what to do.
The man turned toward the closet. No longer hunched and bowed from the fake, weighted belly strapped to his middle, he straightened, and Paige almost laughed. It was like watching a Transformer click into shape.
A clean white t-shirt that in no way resembled the cruddy clothes he’d removed was tossed onto the growing pile of clothing strewn on the floor. And just like that, the elderly senior who’d labored up the stairs looking like a man close to his last breath vanished. Instead of a wrinkled, saggy chest covered with gray hair, a six-pack calendar torso mocked her voyeur’s gaze.