Lone Star Lonely Read Free Page A

wearing.” He glanced at Garrett. “If
you can assure me you’ll see to that, then I have no
objections.”
    Garrett nodded. “You could question her right
here in town. My office is just—”
    “I want her at the station.”
    “Okay,” Garrett said. “Okay. I’ll bring her
in myself.”
    The ranger nodded, then sent a pointed glance
at Adam. “Who’re you?”
    Kirsten could almost hear the man’s
assumptions. That Adam was the “other man.” That this was all the
result of some sordid love triangle. It would have been funny if
the situation hadn’t been so dire. She almost laughed, and brought
her hands to her mouth to prevent it…then the would-be laugh became
a gag when she glimpsed the drying blood that coated her hands as
they hovered in midair near her face.
    Her knees gave, just a little, before she
snapped them rigid again. Adam’s arm went around her waist.
    “Get her out of here, Adam. I’ll field the
rangers’ questions,” Garrett said.
    Adam nodded, kept his arm where it was and
guided her out of the room.
    His hand on her was gentle but firm.
Supportive. As if he thought she might need his strength to keep
her upright and mobile.
    She didn’t.
    She took a step away to let him know that,
and instantly felt weakness set in. Her pace slowed. Her knees
quivered. His hand returned, but to her arm this time. A less
intimate embrace, but every bit as strong and supportive.
    “Hold on,” he whispered.
    He guided her to the stairs and up them. He
didn’t let go again. She didn’t ask him to. She didn’t want him to.
And she hated her own lack of strength and resolve.
    “Where’s your bedroom?”
    She licked paper-dry lips, but the effect was
minimal. “This way.” Like a bullfrog’s croak, her voice. She turned
down the hallway, but paused to look at the stains her feet were
making in the carpet. Glancing backward down the stairs, she saw
that she’d left a trail of them, each one a little darker, all the
way to the bottom.
    “It’ll clean,” Adam said.
    “I don’t care. I really don’t. In fact, I
hope it’s ruined. I hope they have to tear it up. Hell, I hope they
burn this place to the ground.”
    He looked at her, eyes soft and blue and
puzzled. “That’s an odd thing to say.”
    “Is it?”
    He searched her face. “What the hell happened
here this morning, Kirsten?”
    She shrugged. “The king is dead,” she
whispered, not even sure why. But slowly, slowly, a weight seemed
to be lifting from her shoulders. The yoke of slavery. Of bondage.
Of imprisonment. That was what her two years with Joseph Cowan had
been. Was she free of him now? Was it even possible?
    “Long live the fucking queen,” she muttered
and turned toward her room. And she mashed her bloody footprints
into the carpet as she walked.

Chapter 2
     
    She didn’t say another word, but then again,
maybe she didn’t need to. She’d said too much already, and Adam
found himself absurdly glad he was the only one who’d heard the
sarcasm in her voice. She hardly seemed to fit the role of the
grieving widow just now. And what the hell was he supposed to make
of that? She walked with purpose along the palatial corridor with
the thick carpet that had, by now, wiped her feet clean. Finally
she paused just outside the huge hardwood bedroom door. An ornate
bench sat against the wall alongside it. Cherry, he thought.
Probably an antique. Straight backed, thin cushioned and claw
footed, it looked about as comfortable for sitting as a
half-starved, swaybacked nag, but he guessed that was what she
wanted him to do. She caught his eye, nodded at the bench, then
ducked her hoity-toity ass right through the bedroom door without
missing a beat. And she closed it behind her. Not hard, but not
gently. Just firmly enough to send the message.
    Stay out.
    Sure. Okay, he could handle that.
    Adam sat. He could hear the distant, muffled
voices of the men downstairs, and the vehicles coming and going
outside. The place was going to