A Man of His Word Read Free

him over with mercenary eyes. “You are an attractive man, son. Good with women. Hell, you treat that maid like she’s some damn queen.”
    Dan’s jaw stiffened. Son. He hated it when Cecil called him that. Dan was many things to Cecil, but a son he wasn’t.
    â€œYou handled those ELF nuts in Texas. This is no different. She’s just a woman.”
    Dan managed to clear his throat. “You want me to do what—sweep her off her feet so she forgets about suing us?” It was Cecil’s turn to stiffen. That’s right, Dan thought. Us. This is my company, too.
    â€œAll I’m suggesting is you distract her. And if you happen to get access to some of her files…” He let the words trail off, but the meaning was clear. He thought he could use Dan as nothing more than a male bimbo.
    Dan snatched the papers out of Cecil’s hand. The sooner he got out of this room, the better life would be. Just breathing Cecil’s air was toxic. “Where?”
    â€œOn the reservation. Tomorrow at ten.” Cecil waved his hand in dismissal.
    For the second time that day, Dan was so mad he couldn’t see straight. Cecil had known someone was out there. If Dan didn’t know any better, he might be tempted to think the old man was trying to get him killed.
    He looked down at the papers, a Google map to the tribal headquarters and some names. On one hand, he detested letting his uncle think Dan would do his heavy-handed bidding. On the other hand, if Cecil was having “problems” with Indians, maybe they had something on him, something Dan could use. Besides, if a man was looking for a Native American princess packing a pistol, the reservation was the place to be.
    He was going to start with one Rosebud Donnelly.

Two
    R osebud Donnelly looked over the rims of her glasses to see Judy, the receptionist, standing in the doorway with an unusual look of confusion on her face.
    â€œHe’s here.”
    â€œJohnson came back for more?” Here, in the privacy of her office—even if it was just a modified broom closet—Rosebud allowed herself to smile at the thought of that twit Johnson breaking. A pitiful excuse for a lawyer, that one.
    â€œNo.” Judy’s eyes got wider.
    â€œIt’s not that man, is it?” She couldn’t imagine that Cecil Armstrong would actually show himself in public, in daylight. She’d never met him, but she imagined him to be some sort of vampire, except instead of sucking blood, he was hell-bent on draining her reservation dry—and then flooding it.
    â€œHe said his name was Dan Armstrong. He said he was Cecil’s nephew.”
    The satisfaction was intense. She was getting to that man. Cecil Armstrong had run out of high-priced lawyers whowouldn’t know tribal law from a hole in the ground. He’d been reduced to family—as if Rosebud could be swayed by emotional pleas. “A regular mini-me, huh?”
    â€œNo,” Judy said again, her voice dropping. “He’s…something else entirely. Be careful with this one, Rosebud.”
    Judy’s befuddlement was worrisome. “I’m always careful.” Which was true. She took no chances—she couldn’t afford to. “He can sit. Make sure he’s got coffee—plenty of coffee,” she added with a nod. She preferred her sworn enemies to be as uncomfortable as possible. “And let me know when Joe and Emily get here.”
    After Judy left to go perk another pot of coffee, Rosebud took the time to break out her pitiful makeup bag. Her good looks were just one of her weapons, but she considered them her first best line of defense when meeting a new adversary.
    After three years of representing the tribe in their dealings with Armstrong Holdings, she’d honed her game plan to perfection. Johnson was just the latest victim. Rosebud had played the bubble-headed babe for three weeks—long enough for Johnson to