The Loner by J.A. Johnstone Read Free Book Online

would be a good idea to tie him up. That was what real kidnappers would do, wasn’t it? Of course, Lasswell and the others were real kidnappers, he reminded himself. They just had help that no one else would ever know about.
    Sinclair yanked down one of the cords from the drapes and used it to bind Browning’s hands behind his back. He wasn’t any too gentle about it either, jerking Browning’s arms around without worrying about whether or not he injured the bastard. He had hit Browning twice, so he didn’t think there was any chance he’d regain consciousness any time soon, but just in case he did, this would take care of the problem. Sinclair used Browning’s own handkerchief to gag him, tying the ball of cloth in place with another piece of drapery cord.
    There, Sinclair thought as he straightened from his work, all trussed up like a pig on its way to market.
    But now there was really no time to waste. He almost broke into a run as he hurried from the study and down the hall. His heart pounded heavily in his chest as he pushed open the door into the kitchen. He didn’t know if it was from fear or anticipation or just sheer excitement at being part of something so audacious. He stepped into the room…
    And his heart seemed to leap into his throat and freeze there as he saw Rebel standing at the foot of the rear stairs.
    “Edwin!” she said, obviously surprised to see him. But then she smiled, like the sun coming up and chasing away the shadows of night, and went on. “I didn’t know you were here. Did you come to help Conrad with all that paperwork after all?”
    Before he could answer, a soft knock sounded on the rear door.
    Judging by Rebel’s expression, she was even more surprised by that than she was by Sinclair’s unexpected appearance in her kitchen. She said, “Who in the world can that be at this time of night? Maybe Mrs. O’Hannigan forgot something.”
    She started toward the door, clearly intending to answer it.
    Sinclair sprang forward. “Let me,” he said. “You seemed to be on your way upstairs. You should go ahead. It’s probably a tradesman at the door. I’ll deal with him.”
    “Nonsense,” Rebel said. “This is my house. I can answer my own—”
    Lasswell must have run out of patience. A boot heel crashed against the door just below the knob, springing it open. The door flew back. Rebel let out a startled cry as she jerked herself out of its way.
    “Edwin, run!” she shouted. “Get Conrad!”
    Shocked, struggling to figure out what to do next, Sinclair stayed rooted to the floor. A couple of hard-faced men rushed into the kitchen with guns drawn. Sinclair had never seen either of them before, but he knew they must be some of Lasswell’s men.
    Rebel reacted with the sort of blinding speed that Sinclair would have expected from that gunfighter father-in-law of hers. She snatched up an empty coffeepot from the stove and swung it at one of the men, crashing it against the side of his head. He stumbled into his companion and dropped his gun. Rebel was on it like a hawk, scooping it up before it hardly had a chance to hit the floor. She shot the second man at such close range that the flame licking out from the gun muzzle scorched the man’s shirt as the bullet punched into his chest.
    Sinclair had made it clear to Lasswell and Moss that Rebel wasn’t to be hurt, but he didn’t know if the gunmen would be able to control themselves when someone started shooting at them. They might return her fire. He couldn’t let that happen. He leaped toward her, wrapped his arms around her from behind, and said, “Rebel, no!” He got one hand on her wrist and forced the gun toward the floor.
    More men burst into the room, among them Lasswell and Moss. Lasswell’s bearded, leathery face creased into a grin as he said, “Looks like you decided to jump right in there and grab her yourself, Sinclair.”
    Sinclair bit back a groan of despair. Now everything really was ruined. He had hoped for