Revenge by Lisa Jackson Read Free Book Online Page B

voice!”
    â€œI see. Well, I brought you this basket—”
    â€œOh, well. Oh, my. How lovely!” Mrs. Newby beamed as she took the basket from Skye. “Cookies and crackers and fruit and coffee. Why, aren’t you a dear? Here, sit down, sit down, and I’ll make us some of this coffee right now.” She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Skye perched on one of the chairs while Mrs. Newby bustled around the room, setting out a plate of the cookies and perking coffee. “Isn’t this just grand,” she said as she finally lighted on one of the chairs and held up her bone china coffee cup. “Cheers.” She clinked the rim of her cup to Skye’s. “Here’s to a long and mutually beneficial relationship.”
    â€œCheers,” Skye replied.
    â€œNow, dear, let me tell you about the other tenants.” Her gray eyebrows rose above her glasses. “The mother, Tina, is a divorcee and she’s a good woman, but that daughter of hers is a wild one. Run away once already. Plays that darned music every minute she’s not in school. I’m afraid you’re going to have trouble with those two, if you’re not careful....”
    Â 
    Less than a week.
    Skye had been in town less than a week, and in that same amount of time, Max hadn’t gotten a lick of work accomplished. It wasn’t that he’d bumped into her, which he’d half expected to in a town the size of Rimrock, but he’d felt her presence, sensed that she was around.
    He glanced in the mirror, frowned at his image and yanked off his tie. He wasn’t a big-city lawyer, for God’s sake. Skye had gotten to him, and the fact that he had to meet with her today was unnerving. It was more than unnerving. It was damn irritating.
    He stripped off the white shirt, slid his arms into the sleeves of a faded blue chambray and told himself he was being a fool. He had a helluva lot better things to do than worry about running into Skye Donahue. His father had left him in charge of all the McKee holdings, which included a two-thousand-acre ranch, an old hotel on the north edge of town, three apartment houses, the mobile-home park near the river and on and on. McKee Enterprises, or companies owned by McKee subsidiaries, held the leases on most of the buildings in town as well as a few in Dawson City and a couple as far away as Bend. Including Doc Fletcher’s clinic.
    Then there were the problems at the ranch with his mother. He tended to agree with Casey. Virginia McKee seemed to be losing her grip on reality. She was pushing this murder idea too far. Instead of losing interest, she seemed to be gathering steam. Not only was the local paper interested, but a few reporters in neighboring cities had called.
    Hell, what a mess!
    Stuffing the tail of his shirt into the waistband of his worn jeans, he ignored his reflection in the mirror over his bureau. He buttoned his fly, then yanked on his boots.
    The meeting would last less than twenty minutes. That was all. Not even a half hour. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with her again.
    Cursing under his breath, he thundered down the stairs and hurried outside. Atlas, his Border collie, jumped a greeting, and Max scratched the half-grown pup behind his black ears. “You stay,” he said, but the dog, tail wagging wildly, leapt off the porch and dashed to the pickup.
    Another truck roared up the gravel drive and shuddered to a stop near the garage. Chester, the ranch foreman, hopped from the cab and left the old Ford idling. Chester’s hands were covered with black grease and he was sweating hard enough for the drips to be visible as they slid from beneath his old Oakland A’s cap.
    â€œProblems?” Max asked, not wanting to hear them.
    â€œThe tractor gave out.”
    The old vehicle had been threatening to fail for several seasons. “Great. Can it be fixed?”
    Chester reached into his breast pocket for a pack of