Darkness Before the Dawn (Maggie Bennett 2)

“I’d rather walk.”

“Honeybuns, you wound me,” Willis protested. “After all I’ve done for you?”

“What have you done for me?”

“Why, I sent you Randall, of course. What more could any grieving widow ask? She as good a piece of tail as she used to be, Carter?” he inquired affably. “She’s out of practice, but I’m sure a few hours in the saddle will get her back in shape.”

It took every ounce of her self-control to keep from fighting back. She stared at Willis in mute fury, biding her time.

“Willis, you’re being tiresome,” Randall said quietly. “Did you take care of everything?”

“Admiral Wentworth is being watched. The limousine is waiting.” He made an extravagant gesture toward the door. “And I’ve got another name for you: Caleb McAllister.”

Maggie heard the name with real dread. “What about him?”

“He’s got to be involved in this shit up to his neck,” Willis said. “His tracks are all over the place—the asshole doesn’t have enough sense to cover up anything. We’ll get him anytime we want him. Alicia Stoneham’ll be a harder nut to crack.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Listen, she may be one tough broad but—”

“No, I mean I don’t believe it about Caleb.”

“Believe it. It’s him or your sister, sweetcakes. Take your pick.”

“Someone was trying to frame Kate. Maybe someone’s trying to frame Caleb, too,” Maggie insisted stubbornly.

“Maybe. You making it with him, too? I woulda thought Randall would be enough for you.” He reached out and pinched her arm, pinched the bruises Randall’s hard hands had left. “You like it rough, don’t you? If I’d known, I woulda made more of an effort. I like a woman who appreciates pain.”

With a seemingly casual gesture, Randall draped a friendly arm around Willis’s narrow shoulders. He smiled a peculiarly sweet smile as Willis’s ferret-face whitened in sudden pain. “Don’t mess with my woman, Willis.”

Willis still managed his skeletal smile as the veins on his forehead stood out. “Your woman, Carter? You’re sounding human like the rest of us. Who would have thought we’d hear the great Randall Carter refer to a piece of ass as ‘my woman.’ ” He grunted. “Shit, man, cut that out!”

“I thought you were a man who appreciated pain,” Randall said gently.

“Not my own, man,” Willis protested. “Tell him to let me go, Maggie.”

Maggie only smiled.

A moment later, Willis was released. “Dammit, man, you don’t need to get so touchy,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “I was just kidding.” The colorless eyes that watched Randall above the smiling mouth were those of a cobra waiting to strike.

“When are you going to move on the admiral?”

“When you give me the word, man,” Willis said. “Not a damned second sooner, I promise. You going to wrap this up tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“You going to help him, sugarbuns? Or are you just going to be waiting with your legs spread?”

Randall reached for him again, but Maggie got in the way. “What do you think, Bud?” she said sweetly.

“Jesus, I don’t know,” he said. “You lie there and pretend he’s that dead Polack?”

Maggie moved closer,

pressing her soft breasts up against him as she repressed a shudder of distaste. “No, Willis. I pretend he’s you.” And then she brought her heel down on his instep.

He moved, but not in time. “Ouch, Maggie, there’s no need to be so sensitive! You’re acting more like a couple of frustrated spinsters than two people who’ve been fucking their brains out. We’re in this thing together—you don’t need to beat up on me.”