Right Brother by Patricia McLinn Read Free Book Online

little trick like that wasn’t going to sway him.
    They’d already toured the showroom, the offices, the reception area, the break room, the service bays, the storage facilities, even a shed with the snow-removal equipment. Not a lot seemed to have changed.
    â€œWhat’s in that building?”
    She’d clearly been prepared to skip the World War II vintage metal building at the back corner. That was one reason he’d asked. Another was he wanted to see Stenner Autos as people had come to know it recently, and that meant examining an area that her cleanup frenzy had not reached.
    â€œInventory. Parts.”
    â€œWe saw the parts storage room by the service bays.”
    â€œThis provides long-term storage.”
    â€œLet’s see.” He kept the words mild, but cocked one eyebrow and looked right at her, making his challenge clear.
    To her credit, she didn’t try to wriggle out of it, or to explain. She turned on a sensible heel and marched up the decaying wooden ramp that led to double doors, pushing aside accumulated dead leaves with one toe.
    â€œI can…” he volunteered, extending his hand for the keys.
    â€œI’ll do it.” She fiddled with keys until one fit the padlock that gripped the ends of a dirt-coated chain threaded through the door handles.
    She pulled the heavy chain free, but before she reached for the handle, he stepped in. No telling what could come flying out of a building locked tight so long. Kind of like his return to Drago.
    He yanked the door open, sucking out a wave of air stale with time, dust and uselessness. He blinked against that hot draft and against the gloom inside that gave nothing away. Behind him, Jennifer sneezed. Once delicately, then a second time, wholeheartedly.
    For some reason that made him smile.
    He cleaved a spiderweb with his hand and stepped inside, beating back the anonymity of darkness. From floor to ceiling, rows of tall metal shelving rose, divided by narrow aisles. He edged down the middle aisle, where daylight cautiously slanted in. Each shelf held ranks of boxes faded to muddlesof colors and indistinguishable writing. He swiped his thumb at what appeared to be a label.
    â€œPower cylinder for the power steering of a 1963 Ford Falcon.”
    â€œWhat’s a power cylinder?” Jennifer asked.
    â€œHell if I know. I’m reading the label. Better question might be—What’s a Ford Falcon?” He peered at rows of boxes stretching into dense shadow. “This place must be filled with parts from my father’s time, maybe before.”
    He swore under his breath. He knew the man never let go of ideas and beliefs, but he hadn’t known it extended to parts for long-dead cars.
    â€œThere’s a flashlight in the office. I can—”
    His hand shot out and hooked around her elbow. “Don’t bother.”
    â€œBut to see what’s in here—”
    â€œYou said it before, it’s parts inventory.”
    â€œBut that’s all I knew. I asked a former employee. But I didn’t have a chance to get to this.” Sure as hell she’d have tried to clean it single-handedly if she had, he thought. “We’ll need a flashlight to see wha—”
    â€œI don’t want to see any more.”
    He was aware of her gaze. He didn’t meet it, instead using his hold on her to guide her out. Stepping over the threshold, her arm came out of his loose hand, severing the connection.
    He pulled the chains into place and held them while she threaded the padlock through and clicked it. He swiped his hands against each other to dislodge dust and dirt. She did the same, and he had a fleeting wish he was one of those men who carried a handkerchief so he could offer it to her.
    They crossed the back lot’s broken surface, passed through the sparse ranks of remaining cars. When they neared themain building, she clicked back into real estate–salesperson mode, listing