The Black Sheep and the Princess Read Free

otherwise. And what was that part about the vandalism? Where did that come into play?
    Rafe reached the car first and jumped in behind the wheel. Mac was still shutting the passenger door as they swung around the back side of the lot and edged out into traffic, two blocks away from the scene of what was now a crime.
    â€œWonder what Finn will think of this latest twist.”
    Mac realized Rafe was talking about the Fortenberry case, not the sudden reappearance of Kate Sutherland. “Finn will think we should figure out where the hell Frank is hiding, pin the bomb-happy asshole to the nearest wall, get Mr. Fortenberry’s ashes back, then get the hell out of here and back to Virginia.”
    Rafe maneuvered through traffic heading toward the interstate. As the silence stretched out, he finally said, “It’s that last part that’s bugging you, isn’t it?”
    Mac pretended not to understand. “Going back to Virginia? Or getting our hands on an urn full of dead guy? Because I’ve grown to like Virginia. And dead guys don’t bug me much. It’s the ones who are still alive and shooting at me I have a problem with.”
    Another few minutes passed; then Rafe sighed and said, “You know, I can handle the rest of this cluster. Finn should be done with the Thomason deal, so he’ll find someone to help me or come up himself. He’d be the first one to tell you to go check this out. Why don’t you just—”
    â€œWhy don’t you just mind your own goddamn business, okay?” Mac kept his gaze firmly forward. Rafe knew him far too well. Which, most of the time, was a good thing, since it had saved his ass on more than one occasion. At the moment, however, he’d be more than happy to toss his best friend right into the Hudson if it meant shutting him up about Winnimocca, Kate Sutherland, and anything having to do with their collective past.
    Rafe drove on in silence, letting Mac stew.
    â€œNo one asked for our help,” he finally bit out. “And I doubt it would be welcome.”
    â€œProbably not,” Rafe said, far too agreeably. “But you and I both know you won’t be worth a damn until you at least dig some on this. No one says you have to see her.”
    Mac cast a quick glance at his partner and caught the slight lift at the corner of his mouth. Son of a bitch. He’d probably known all along what effect Kate really had on him. Of course, Rafe had been the first one to explain what they were looking at when Mac had discovered his father’s stash of Penthouse magazines, too. They couldn’t have been much older than nine at the time.
    After another long, tension-building silence, Mac swore under his breath. “It would have to be as part of Trinity. Totally professional. A case just like any other we decide to take on. Or not at all.”
    Rafe said nothing, just stared ahead as they rolled along with the traffic on Grand Central Parkway. “Whatever works.” He cut across two lanes and took the expressway heading toward JFK.
    â€œWhere do you think—?” Mac snapped his mouth shut and shifted his gaze out the side window. “Turn around,” he said flatly, in a tone that used to make even the most desperate, hopped-up scumbag take note. “I need time to prepare for this. Let’s go round up Frank first, finish this job.”
    â€œNo,” Rafe said, just as flatly. “Every minute you take right now will be time spent talking yourself out of doing what you know you have to do.”
    â€œI don’t have to do shit. This is not my problem.”
    Rafe swung into the airport entrance. “I know it’s not. Trust me, if it were up to me, I’d steer far clear of the whole Sutherland clan.”
    â€œPeachy. Then we’re on the same page.”
    â€œExcept it’s not up to me. This one is yours. I’ll square everything with Finn. We’ll get you whatever you