Hatfield and McCoy by Heather Graham Read Free Book Online Page A

going to eat your salad?”
    â€œFor your information, Mr. McCoy—” Julie began, leaning close to him across the table.
    â€œFor my information what?” he snapped. His eyes blazed into hers. Little silver arrows seemed to pierce her flesh, to sweep inside her, raking through her with heat and fury. She didn’t think she’d ever felt a look so physically before—ever.
    Nor had she expected the anger that filled her, or that other emotion.
    Attraction. Stark, sharp, physical attraction. So strong that it sizzled and whiplashed, and seemed to create electricity in the air between them.
    She sat back. His gaze, too, was quickly masked, but Julie knew, suddenly and fiercely, that he had felt it.
    â€œI …” She began. What? Her mind was a blank. She didn’t even like him, she reminded herself dismally. And it didn’t matter. They were out to catch a kidnapper. Possibly a murderer.
    Tracy. They were out to save Tracy.
    â€œWhat?” he demanded, exasperated.
    â€œIt’s getting late,” she said.
    He glanced at his watch. It wasn’t really so late, but he didn’t dispute her.
    â€œI’ll get the check from your friend.”
    â€œI think she’s your friend,” Julie told him sweetly.
    â€œClaws out, Miss Hatfield?”
    â€œHey, what do you want? I’m with a McCoy.”
    Two hours later they sat on the steps of a long walkway that led to an abandoned antebellum home outside the city limits of Harpers Ferry and Bolivar, but still on West Virginian soil.
    Something felt right about being with him. Maybe it was his size. He was tall, with such impressive shoulders.
    No … it didn’t have anything to do with his size. He simply had that air of confidence about him.
    Aggression, she warned herself. Bald aggression.
    And no matter how strongly attracted she was, he was the last man she wanted to find herself involved with. She did not like being laughed at. Or doubted.
    It was a beautiful spring night. Even in the shadows and darkness, shades of spring seemed to cover the land. The forests rose like deep, rich green sentinels, the sky was cast in cobalt and black, and the silver-white glow of the moon touched down on it all. Even where they were right now, with the night hiding the chipping paint of the old home, and the moonlight giving a past glory to the tall white columns on its porch, even the house looked beautiful.
    But despite the warm spring air, Julie shivered. He was out there. With Tracy.
    She closed her eyes. The phone should be ringing soon.
    She gasped suddenly. Tracy.
    She could see the little girl. And see what Tracy was seeing …
    Darkness. Tracy was crying. It was hard to breathe. And hard to move, because she was boxed in. The smell around her was a rich one. Dirt.
    â€œOh, God!” she breathed.
    â€œWhat, what?” McCoy demanded. His arm was around her shoulders. Tightly. Supportingly. Maybe he didn’t believe—
    Maybe he just felt the loneliness and the fear of the night.
    She had to draw in a very deep breath. “He—he’s got her buried,” she said.
    And just then, the phone rang.
    McCoy leaped up, leaving the briefcase containing the money Martin Nicholson had obtained by Julie’s feet. “Where?” he snapped into the receiver. McCoy was wired, so that the others would know where they were going next. He repeated the instructions given to him by the kidnapper.
    When he hung up, Julie was already on her feet. “He hasn’t left her enough air!” she said anxiously. “Where does he want us to go now?”
    â€œMaryland side of the border,” he said briefly. “Let’s go.”
    Both of them were deadly silent as they moved on to the next phone booth. They barely reached it before the phone started ringing.
    This time, McCoy came back to Julie looking perplexed. “He knows that I’m wired. And he knows exactly how many other cars are