Running Blind by Linda Howard Read Free Book Online

going there, she said, in her best John Wayne voice, “I’m sorry to hear you say that, little lady.”
    Kat laughed again, finished wiping down a stainless-steel counter beside the large stove, and directed Carlin and her mop to an area by the oversized freezer. Carlinsmiled as she continued to clean. How long had it been since she’d relaxed enough to laugh?
    Too long. But at the same time, getting too comfortable in Battle Ridge would be a Bad Idea.
    They finished up at about the same time, and Kat said, “I officially call this finished, and in half the time it usually takes me. Good deal. How about a decaf, or a cup of tea?”
    Carlin glanced at the clock on the wall, a little startled to see how much time had passed. They’d been working for a couple of hours. Hard work deserved a treat. “Tea would be great.”
    “Something else to eat? There’s pie left. Or I could throw together some sandwiches.”
    “No, that’s too much—”
    “No trouble at all. I have to eat, too. I can either eat here, or I can drive home and eat, but it’ll be a sandwich, regardless. After cooking all day I never cook dinner for myself.”
    Her tone was wry, and completely honest. Carlin wasn’t hungry, but she knew she would be later if she didn’t eat something now. Besides, she couldn’t assume this little town was as safe a haven as it appeared to be, that Brad couldn’t find her here. She didn’t see how he
could
, but she’d underestimated him too often. She might well be running again tomorrow.
    “Okay, thanks. That would be great. I’m not picky, and I don’t have any strong likes or dislikes. Except for cabbage. I hate cabbage. And caviar.
Blech
. Whoever thought eating fish eggs was a good idea? And rutabaga. I don’t like rutabaga.”
    Kat waited a moment, then said, “Is that all?”
    “Pretty much.”
    “Good. I can firmly promise you that I won’t make a cabbage, caviar, and rutabaga sandwich.”
    “Good God, that’s a repulsive idea,” Carlin said, shuddering.
    The sandwiches Kat slapped together were regular ham and cheese, and the two women sat on stools in the kitchen, eating and sipping hot tea. In between bites Kat shared tidbits about Battle Ridge. This was home for her, and while she loved the place, she recognized its faults. And yet she stayed. Carlin started to ask why, and stopped herself. She didn’t need to know; didn’t need to like Kat Bailey any more than she already did. Maybe the fact that this was home was reason enough for Kat to stay.
    Carlin didn’t want to get personal, but she did ask questions, about shopping and parking and business, about her new job, and the clientele—lots of cowboys, apparently. They even talked about pie, which was evidently a subject near and dear to both of them. Kat had learned the art of pie-baking from her mother, and Carlin loved to eat pie, so there was an instant connection. She’d seen some of her girlfriends get married with less in common with their new husbands than that.
    The shared meal and the conversation were nice. Comfortable. Carlin felt herself relaxing even more, almost as if something inside her was uncoiling. She shook it off, gave herself a good, hard mental poke in the ribs.
    Getting comfortable was not an option. Relaxing could get her killed.

Chapter Three
    Z EKE HAD BEEN up for two hours, and the sun had been up for one. He was already frustrated, irritated, and so hungry he was ready to gnaw on anything that resembled food—even Spencer’s earliest attempts at cooking.
    The morning had started out at five a.m. with the discovery that part of the fence was down and all of the horses were out. He and all of the hands should have been heading out to the hay fields; instead they’d been cussing and chasing horses. The good news was that the horses hadn’t gone far and they’d stayed together. The bad news was that they evidently weren’t of a mind to go back into the fenced pasture, so rounding them up had taken