While the Fire Rages Read Free Page A

spring and the water craft of all sizes, both motorized and those with the tall masts.
    To the lone man, standing with hands thrust deep into the pockets of hand-tailored pants, the scene was more conducive to contemplation than depression.
    Because of the frantic mental state his sister-in-law had been in, Brett had found it relatively easy to convince Micki of Wolf’s fidelity.
    Without shame or misgiving, he had lied through his teeth.
    The memory was strong, fanning the anger seething in him to a full, outraged blaze.
    * * * *
    “I must know,” Micki had whispered brokenly. “Brett, please, you must find out if it’s true.”
    Suspicion aroused is not guilt proven. Brett would have preferred living with the doubt.
    “To what purpose now, honey?” he’d soothed, attempting to dissuade her, knowing too well the hell in facing the truth. “You’ve been through so much, and you’ve got to get through a lot more. Why put yourself through the agony of—”
    “You don’t understand,” she’d interrupted fiercely, grasping his hand tightly. “I don’t want to know for myself.” Her lids dropped over eyes sparkling like blue jewels from their glaze of tears, and she swallowed with obvious difficulty. “I’d just as soon not know, but you have got to go to New York and find out if it’s true.”
    “You’re right, I don’t understand,” Brett exploded, if softly. “If you would rather not know, then, dammit, why...?”
    “For him!” Again she’d not let him finish. “I think—I thought I knew him, and the man I thought I knew would not enter lightly into infidelity. He must love her very much.”
    Brett had actually felt the pain that had scored her face. In that instant the rage had been born deep inside him.
    “Go to New York, Brett.” Micki’s eyes pleaded as effectively as her quivering voice. “And, if you find it’s true, bring her back with you.”
    “What!” Mindful of the other patrons scattered around the dimly lighted lounge, Brett had managed to keep his tone low, but it was all the more intense for the incredulity lacing it.
    “If”—a spasm fleetingly distorted her lovely features and she bit her lips before correcting herself harshly— “when he comes around, he will need the strength of the woman he loves.”
    Her slender hand grasping his tightened, oval nails digging into his palm. Brett felt the pain, not in his hand but in his heart. The rage spread fiery fingers into his mind with her next impassioned words.
    “I hate it, Brett. I hate the very thought of it.” Two tears escaped their blinking bounds to slide slowly down her cheeks. “But I want him to live. Oh, dear God, I want him to live, and I will use anyone, suffer anything, if it will help him.” Staring directly into his eyes, she’d begged, “Don’t think of me, Brett, think of him. Go to New York.”
    Of course he’d given in to her. How could he not? The affection and respect he’d felt for her from the beginning blossomed into pure filial love. He would do anything, perform any task she charged him with.
    After escorting her to her room, he had gone to his own long enough to pick up a few things. One of those things was the phone, over which he informed his mother of his intentions—but not his motives. Another of those things was Wolf’s briefcase, which he’d taken possession of on arrival but not as yet opened.
    During the short flight from Boston to New York, he’d perused the contents of Wolf’s case. Most of the papers inside were directly related to the reason Wolf had gone to Boston in the first place—that of the feasibility of renovating a rather run-down, old hotel into modern condominiums and the company’s acquisition of same if the resultant figures proved out that feasibility.
    One slim folder stood out glaringly in its difference.
    The data confined between the covers of the cream-colored folder had come from the personnel manager directly to Wolf. One quick glance over the