Chapter Nine
In spite of the disquieting episodes of the previous evening, Tyra woke up feeling sharper than she had in a very long while. She slid out of bed, did some stretching exercises, and then pulled the drapes aside and opened the window. The air was crisp and cool and a pale sun was trying to break through the cloud cover. She stood in front of the antique full-length mirror and studied her profile.
Tyra did not regard herself as voluptuous – although the amount of men she had to fend off back in Boston might suggest otherwise. She kept her dark hair boyishly short, and an almost obsessive workout routine ensured that there was not one ounce of spare fat on her body. Her stomach was drum-tight, her abdominals visible as a result of tens of thousands of crunches. Her breasts were
