Stroke of Fortune Read Free

eight—unless something important comes up. And today, he never called me to tell me he was taking a pass on the game.”
    â€œDidn’t call me, either,” said Spence.
    â€œAll right,” Flynt admitted. “So he didn’t show up and he didn’t call.”
    â€œWhich means the word is not out that he wouldn’t be here,” Tyler said. “And whoever left the baby could very well have assumed that Luke would be here. That means he’s in the running, too—at this point, anyway. The note could have been meant for him. It could have been intended for any one of us.”
    â€œFine.” Flynt cradled Lena with the utmost care. “Great. Gotcha. It might be one of us. It might be Luke. It might be any number of guys. But the fact remains this baby goes home with me.”
    Spence looked at him for a very long time. Then he blew out a weary breath. “You’re not going to budge on this one, are you?”
    â€œYou got it.”
    â€œHell…”
    â€œTalk to me.”
    â€œAll right. Would you agree to a compromise?”
    â€œThat depends.”
    Spence laid it out. “I could pull a few strings. Maybe you could take that baby home with you. But there’s no way you’ll get out of an interview—makethat interviews. Technically the club’s within the city limits, but the county’s been helping out lately, since the trouble in the Men’s Grill.”
    Trouble was putting it mildly. A few months back, a corrupt group of Mission Creek’s finest had blown the club’s Men’s Grill to smithereens in a failed attempt to kill off the man determined to expose them. That whole area of the club was now being rebuilt. And with so many of its former officers in jail, the Mission Creek P.D. was in something of a state of disarray. Lately the sheriff often ended up stepping in to take up the slack.
    â€œWhat are you saying, Spence? That I’ll have to talk to the sheriff?”
    â€œIt’s pretty likely. And somebody from the MCPD, too. And Child Protective Services. T’s have got to be crossed, I’s will need dotting.”
    â€œThe sheriff,” Flynt repeated. The Lone Star County sheriff was a Wainwright—Justin Wainwright, to be specific. Wainwrights were never welcome at Carson Ranch.
    â€œSorry,” said Spence. “The sheriff’s office is going to want to know about this.”
    â€œYou think I give a damn what the sheriff’s office wants to know?”
    â€œYou’d better give a damn. You want them all on your side if you hope to keep that baby at the ranch without getting arrested for kidnapping, or something equally unpleasant.”
    Right then, Lena stirred in Flynt’s arms. She let out the sweetest, softest little sigh—and suddenly, the prospect of a Wainwright at the ranch didn’t seem all that impossible. If it had to be, it had to be. “You’ll arrange it?”
    Spence shrugged. “I’ll do what I can.”
    â€œI’m not hanging around to have the MCPD and the sheriff’s office and God knows who else crawling all over the club. They’ll come to the ranch and talk to me there—all of them, whoever needs to know about this.”
    â€œI can probably work that out.”
    â€œAnd we’ll keep it under wraps, as much as possible.”
    â€œWe’ll try.”
    â€œDo more than try. I want this kept quiet.” Flynt couldn’t stop thinking of Josie, of keeping the gossip mill from going to work on her. If the story got out…Well, folks didn’t look kindly on a woman who dumped her baby and ran. Josie had suffered through some tough times in her young life, but up till now, at least, the citizens of Mission Creek had been on her side. She didn’t need the town’s scorn dumped on her on top of all the rest of it.
    Spence said, “Look, I’m not saying a word except on a need-to-know