Best Kept Secrets(83)

she croaked.

"If you're not up in ten seconds ..."

She checked the digital clock on the nightstand. It was

almost two in the morning. The sheriff was either drunk

or crazy. Either way, she wasn't about to open her door

to him in his present frame of mind. "What do you

want?"

Alex couldn't account for the change in the sound of the

thumping until the wood began to splinter, then shatter. Reede

kicked the door open and let himself in.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" she

shouted, gathering the covers against her as she sat bolt upright.

"Coming to get you."

He grabbed her, covers and all, plucked her off the bed

and stood her on her feet, then ripped the covers away from

her grasping hands. She stood shivering in front of him,

wearing only panties and a T-shirt, her usual sleeping en

semble. It would be difficult to say which of them was the

more furious or riveted.

Alex recovered her voice first: "I hope you have a damn

good reason for kicking in my door, Sheriff."

"I do." He crossed to the dresser, yanked open a drawer,

and began riffling through articles of clothing.

"I'd like to hear it."

"You will." Another drawer fell victim to his searching



hands. She moved beside him and pushed the drawer shut

with her hip, almost slamming it on his fingers.

"What are you looking for?"

"Clothes. Unless you'd rather go out like that."

He gestured down toward the panties with their high,

French-cut legs. The spot where the sheer lace panel tapered

between her thighs seemed to capture his attention for several

tense seconds before he dragged his eyes toward the alcove

where her clothes were hanging. "Where are your jeans?"

he asked, his voice thick.

"I'm not going anywhere. Do you know what time it is?"

He jerked the jeans off the hanger. It rocked on the rod,

then fell unheeded to the floor. "Yes." None too gently, he

tossed the jeans at her.' 'Put those on. These, too." He threw

her casual boots at her feet, then faced her, hands on hips,

looking mean. "Well? Want me to do it for you?"

She couldn't imagine what she had done to provoke him.

It was obvious, however, that he was livid over something.

If he wanted to play out this caveman game, let him. She

would go along, but she wouldn't do it graciously.

Turning her back on him, she stepped into her jeans and

wiggled them over her hips. She took a pair of socks from

one of the ravaged bureau drawers, shook them out, then

pulled them on. The boots came next. Finally, she turned

and glared up at him.

"There, I'm dressed. Now, are you going to tell me what

this is all about?"

"On the way."

He yanked a sweater from a hanger and moved toward her

as he gathered the material up to the turtleneck. He pulled it

over her head, then shoved her arms into the sleeves and

tugged the hem to her hips. The narrow neck had trapped her

hair. He lifted it out.

Instead of withdrawing his hands, he closed his fingers

tightly around her scalp, then roughly tilted her head up and

back. He was shaking with rage.

"I ought to break your neck."

He didn't. He kissed her--hard.



His lips crushed hers, bruised them against her teeth. He

thrust his tongue inside her mouth with no semblance of

tenderness. It was an angry kiss, spawned by angry passion.

It ended abruptly. Her coat was lying across a chair. He

tossed it at her. "Here."

Alex was too shaken to think of arguing. She put it on.

He pushed her over the threshold. "What about the door?"

she asked inanely.

"I'll send someone to fix it."

"At this time of night?"

"Forget the goddamn door," he roared. Cupping her bottom

in his palm, he boosted her up into the cab of the Blazer,

which he'd kept running. The light bar across the roof of it

was flashing a tricolor code of emergency,

"How long before I get an explanation?" she asked as the

Blazer careened onto the highway. Her seat belt did little

good. She was thrown against him, and had to clutch his

thigh to keep from being pitched into the floorboard. "For

heaven's sake, Reede, tell me what's happened."

"The Minton ranch has been set afire."



Twenty-three



"Set afire?" she repeated in a thready voice.

"Drop the innocent act, will ya?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He banged his fist on the steering wheel. "How could you

sleep through it?"

She stared at him, aghast. "Are you suggesting that I had

something to do with it?"