Best Kept Secrets(106)

"What's that?"

She squinted up at him, then hastily refolded the letter and

stuffed it back into the envelope. "My mail."

"Let me see it."

"You want to see my mail?"

He snapped his fingers rapidly three times and opened his

palm. Her exasperation was plain when she slapped the envelope

into his hand. It didn't take him long to read the letter.

It was short and to the point. Tawny brows merged over the

bridge of his nose as he frowned. " 'An abomination unto

God'?"

"That's what he's calling me."

"Plummet, no doubt. Mind if I keep this?"



"No," Alex said shakily. "I've memorized it."

"Be sure to keep your door locked."

"You're not taking his threat seriously, are you?"

He wanted to shake her, hard. She was either stupid or

naive, and either one could get her hurt. "Damn right, I am,"

he said. "And so should you. If he makes any attempt to

contact you, call me. Understand?"

She looked ready to argue, but eventually nodded her head.

Her exhaustion was evident. She seemed on the verge of

collapsing in the parking lot. Reede knew he could take partial

credit for that, but instead of making him feel smug, it made

him feel terrible.

Closing his mind to it, he returned to his truck. He didn't

drive away from the motel, however, until Alex was locked

safely inside her room.



Twenty-nine



Reede turned his head when the corrugated tin door of the

hangar crashed open. The sinking sun was behind her, so

Alex's face was in shadow, but he didn't need to see her

expression to know that she was furious. She looked as tense

as a pulled hamstring. The vivid light shining through her

hair made it appear to crackle like flame.

He calmly finished washing his hands at the industrial metal

sink, rinsed them, and reached for a paper towel from the

wall dispenser.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" he asked

pleasantly.

"You're a liar, probably a cheat, possibly a murderer."



"That's been your opinion of me from the beginning. Tell





me something I don't already know."

He dropped down onto a stool and hooked the heels of his

boots on the lowest rung. Mindlessly, his hands slid up and

down the tops of his thighs. He'd never wanted to touch a

woman so badly in his life.

She advanced on him militantly, a package of quivering

energy. She looked soft, but so goddamn alive and vibrant

that lie could almost feel her skin against his palms. He

wanted to clutch her hair while crushing her smart mouth

with nonstop kisses.

She was wearing the fur coat that never failed to elicit an

erotic curl deep in his groin. Her tight jeans gloved thighs

that he could think of better uses for than supporting a woman

obviously on the brink of exploding with rage.

When they were but inches apart, she shook a paper in his

face. He recognized the letter she'd received from the concerned

citizens soon after her arrival in Purcell. The shit was

about to hit the fan, all right. He'd been waiting for it. This

showdown had been due to happen the minute she figured it

out.

"I knew something didn't jive with this," she said through

clenched teeth, "but today as I was poring over the material

I have, looking for clues, I finally realized what was out of

sync."

Pretending that he didn't smell her tantalizing fragrance,

which made him crazy, he folded his arms over his middle.

"Well?"

"There is one more business cited in the letter than there

are signatures at the bottom. Moe Blakely Airfield," she said,

stabbing her finger repeatedly at the typed paragraph. "But

Moe Blakely didn't sign it."

"That would have been tough to do, since he died about

seven years ago."

"Moe Blakely was the old man you told me about, wasn't

he? The one who taught you to fly and treated you to strawberry

soda pops."



"You're batting a thousand, so far."

"You own this airfield, Mr. Lambert."

"Right down to the tumbleweeds and tarantulas. Moe

willed it to me. Surprised?"

"Flabbergasted."

"Most folks around here were. Pissed off some of them,

too--the ones who would have liked to get their hands on

fee property. That was when they were poking holes in the

ground, drilling for oil under every rock."

"We discussed this letter at length," she grated. "You

said you'd already seen it, but you failed to mention that your

business was listed."

"The people who drafted the letter didn't consult me first.