Best-Kept Lies Read Free Page A

of time.
    Staring out the window at the thick clouds, listening to the steady rumble of the engines, Striker thought about Randi McCafferty.
    Beautiful. Smart. Sexy as hell.
    Who would want her dead?
    And why?
    Because of the kid? Nah…that didn’t wash. The book she’d been writing? Or something else, some other secret she’d kept from her brothers.
    She was an intriguing, sharp-tongued woman with fire in her brown eyes and a lightning-quick sense of humor that kept even her three half brothers at bay. True, Thorne, Matt and Slade could have held a grudge. All three of them had ended up sharing half the ranch while she, John McCafferty’s only daughter, had inherited the other half. Though some of the townspeople of Grand Hope thought differently, Striker knew that the brothers were clean, their motives pure. Hadn’t they hired him for the express purpose of saving their half sister’s lovely hide? No, they were out as suspects. They weren’t trying to murder her.
    Chewing on a toothpick, he frowned into the clouds that were visible through the window. Most murders were committed because of greed, jealousy or revenge. Sometimes a victim was killed because they posed a threat, had something over on the killer. Once in a while someone was murdered to cover up other crimes.
    So why would someone want to kill Randi? Because of her inheritance? Because of her son? A love affair gone sour? Had she swindled someone out of something? Did she know too much? Unconnected motives rattled through his brain. He scratched the side of his face.
    There were two mysteries surrounding Randi. The first was the paternity of her child, a closely guarded secret. The second was about a book she’d been writing around the time of the accident.
    None of her brothers, nor anyone close to her, professed to know who had sired the baby, probably not even the father. Randi had been tight-lipped on the subject. Striker wondered if she was protecting the father or just didn’t want him to know. He thought it wouldn’t be too hard to figure out who was little Joshua’s daddy. Striker had already found out the kid’s blood type from the hospital and he’d managed to get a few hairs from Joshua’s head…just in case he needed a DNA match.
    There were three men who had been close to Randi, close enough to be lovers, though he, as yet, had not substantiated which—if any—she had been intimate with. At that thought his gut clenched. He felt a jolt of jealousy. Ridiculous. He wouldn’t allow himself to get emotionally involved with Randi McCafferty, not even after last night. She was his client, even though she didn’t know it yet. And when she found out, he was certain the gates of hell would spring open and all sorts of demons would rise up. No, Randi McCafferty wouldn’t take kindly to her brothers’ safeguards for her.
    He tapped his finger on the cold glass of the plane’s window and wondered who had warmed Randi’s bed and fathered her son.
    Bile rose in his throat as he thought of the prime candidates.
    Sam Donahue, the ex-rodeo rider, was at the top of the list. Kurt didn’t trust the rugged cowboy who had collected more women than pairs of boots. Sam had always been a rogue, a man none of Randi’s brothers could stomach, a jerk who had already left two ex-wives in his dusty wake.
    Joe Paterno was a freelance photographer who sometimes worked for the Seattle Clarion. Joe was a playboy of the worst order, a love-’em-and-leave-’em type who’dbeen connected to women all over the planet, especially in the political hot spots he photographed. Joe would never be the kind to settle down with a wife and son.
    Brodie Clanton, a shark of a Seattle lawyer who’d been born with a silver spoon firmly wedged between his teeth, was the grandson of Judge Nelson Clanton, one of Seattle’s most prestigious lawmakers. Brodie Clanton looked upon life as if it owed him something, and spent most of his time defending rich clients.
    Not exactly a