Ride the Thunder by Janet Dailey Read Free Book Online

telephone, he sent a glance over his shoulder. There was a new look of respect in the attractive features of the black receptionist. “Mr. Sanger will be right out, sir.”
    “Thank you.” His lip curled in cynicism. Nothing had changed since his grandfather’s time. A man was still judged by who jumped when he called. Brig didn’t turn from the window until he heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor.
    The man walking toward him had a smile fixed on his face. For all the naturalness of its expression, it didn’t reach his cool, blue eyes. Dressed in a darkvested suit and color-coordinated shirt and tie, he had the slender build of a dancer. Brig didn’t need to see the lining of the suit jacket to know that it was hand-tailored by the best in the business. The only changes fourteen years had made in his cousin was the distinguished sprinkling of gray in his black, curling hair. Max was ten or eleven years older, approaching fifty. His appearance was smoothly polished to project the proper image. Brig caught a whiff of a manly cologne and couldn’t help comparing it to the pungent odor of a skunk.
    “Brig!” Max Sanger’s voice sounded genuinely delighted to see him, but Brig knew better. “My God, man! How long has it been?”
    “Fourteen years.” His hand was gripped by smooth fingers while another hand clasped his forearm to demonstrate affection. Brig was conscious of his calloused palms. “A nice, firm handshake, Max,” he observed with arid coolness. “Just the way the old man taught.”
    An uneasiness flickered in the blue eyes, but it was quickly masked as his cousin laughed. “You haven’t changed, Brig. You’re still the cynic.” He clamped a hand on Brig’s shoulder in a further attempt to establish a camaraderie that had never existed between them. “Why didn’t you let me know you were coming? I couldn’t believe it when my secretary told me you were here.”
    “A tactic held over from my mercenary days—never give advance warning before you strike.”
    His cousin abandoned his pretense of friendliness, his arm dropping to his side. “I’m not your enemy, Brig,” he stated.
    Brig feigned a mild surprise. “Did I say you were?”
    With a thinning mouth. Max Sanger made a sweep of the reception area and suggested, “Why don’t we go to my office where we can have some privacy?”
    “By all means,” Brig agreed and followed a half-step behind, as his cousin led the way down the corridor. At the far end was a set of double doors. Maxopened one and waited for Brig to precede him. His secretary glanced up as they entered, her gaze swinging curiously to Brig. She was an older woman, starched and pinched.
    “Hold all my calls, Agnes,” Max ordered. Another set of doors led into an inner office.
    It was a massive room, occupying a corner of the building. Large windows lined two walls. A large hardwood desk sat diagonally in the corner with an executive-style leather chair behind it. Along with two stuffed armchairs, there were a long sofa and coffee table as well as a wet bar. Brig walked to the window to look at the view.
    “Impressive,” he murmured with a trace of sarcasm. “But it was designed to be, wasn’t it?” No comment was forthcoming from Max Sanger as he sat down and let his slender build become enfolded in the plush chair behind the desk. He swiveled toward Brig, leaning back to regard him through narrowed blue eyes. Brig reached in his shirt pocket for the pack of cigarettes. His hand stayed there for an instant. “Do you mind if I smoke?”
    “It wouldn’t stop you if I did.” Max moved the heavy copper ashtray on his desk to the side closest to Brig. ‘Why don’t you come to the point, Brig? This isn’t a social call. You aren’t trying to re-establish family ties. Just exactly why are you here?”
    One-handed, he lit the match and touched the flame to his cigarette. “Maybe, as a major stockholder, I came by to see how the company is doing.” He