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"Get down out of there before you kill yourself " he'd called up to her, grinning as he stood below in a
black T-shirt and blue jeans. He was powerfully built and she loved to look at him. It made her tingle all
over.
"It isn't against the law to climb trees," she informed him pertly, laughing. "Go arrest somebody else."
"I'm very happy where I am, thanks." He looked for footholds and handholds, and a minute later he was
up in the next limb, leaning back against the big oak's trunk. "Here. Have a pear." He produced one from
his pocket and retrieved his own from the other.
Lang had noticed her, too, that day. His eyes had been slow and bold on her long, tanned legs and the
thrust of her breasts in the front-tied blouse she was wearing with her cutoffs. He hadn't made a move in
her direction. But after that day, he'd teased her and their relationship had turned to friendship.
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How long ago it seemed that Lang had made time to listen to her problems at school. Her mother was
too busy getting married and divorced to pay Kirry much attention, and she had no other relatives. She
gravitated toward the Patton place. Lang's mother had been dead for years. Nobody ever talked about
her, least of all Lang. When Lang's father died suddenly of a heart attack, Kirry was there with quiet
sympathy and compassion. She sat and held Lang's hand all during the funeral. When Bob and Connie's
son Mikev had been born, Kirry had gone with Lang to the christening. And all at once, Lang was
everywhere she went....
The ringing of the telephone made her jump. She went to answer it and hesitated uncharacteristically.
Surely it wouldn't be Erikson. Would it?
Her heart was pounding as she lifted the receiver. "Kirry?"
It was Lang. She relaxed, but only a little. "Hi, Lang."
"I thought you should know that I fired Erikson this afternoon," he said quietly. "He was pretty mad. If he
gives you any trouble, I want to know about it."
"He called me before he left," she returned. "He said he was going to 'get me.'"
There was a pause. "Did that frighten you?"
She smiled, and twirled the phone cord around her fingers. "A little."
"Really?" There was a smile in his voice. "The girl I used to know would have laid his head open with a
baseball bat."
"My mother never cared about me enough to fight my battles. I had to grow up tough."
"I fought some of them for you," he reminded her.
"Oh, yes.You were my friend."The eyes he couldn't see were sad, full of bad memories. "I have to go,
Lang."
"Wait."
"We have nothing to say," she replied sadly.
"I'm sorry you wouldn't read the letter I sent you, Kirry," he said after a minute.
"You didn't trust me," she reminded him. "You thought that I was a two-timing playgirl."
"I was crazy with jealousy," he replied. "Didn't you know that I'd cool down and come to my senses
eventually?"
She laughed bitterly. "By the time you did, Id stopped caring. I was dating a new guv at college and
enjoving myself" she lied with finesse. Not for worlds would she tell him how it had really been when he
refused to listen to her explanations.
Lang froze inside. He'd thought Kirry loved him. If she'd taken up with someone else so quickly, she
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couldn't have. It was an unexpected blow to his ego. "Then it was just as well that you refused to accept
it."
"Was there anything else?" she asked politely.
"Yes. Let me know if you have any more contact with Erikson," he replied. "He's mixed up with a
couple of the local outer-fringe elements. I think he's loopy."
"Nice word."
"Do you think so?" he said, grinning."I'm thinking of buying the rights to it."
"I'll call you if I have any trouble. Thanks for checking, Lang."
"Sure."
She put down the receiver, idly caressing it as she thought about how it had felt to kiss Lang. Pipe
dreams, she reminded herself. She couldn't afford to go that route again. It had really broken her up to
lose him, especially since her mother had been in the throes of another divorce at the time. Her home life
had been virtually nonexistent, and that was one reason she'd gone off to university without a protest. It
seemed like a lifetime ago now. She had to make sure that it stayed that way.
Lang settled in at his hotel and went to work. Within a week he had a grasp on the security setup within
the Lancaster organization, and he was confident that he could upgrade it to a more efficient level.
Kirry worried him, though. She'd been very cautious in her movements for a few days after Erikson was
fired, but she'd suddenly grown careless. Today she was working late, and it was already dark. Lang
knew for a fact that her parking lot would be deserted. He decided that in the interest of keeping her
safe, he'd better check on her.
Sure enough, the parking lotwas deserted, except for an older-model blue sedan with a familiar face in
it.
Confrontation, Lang had found, was the best way to avoid real trouble. He pulled up beside the blue
sedan and got out of his security car. He was wearing an automatic under his arm, a necessity in his new
line of work. He hoped he wouldn't have to pull it.
"What are you doing here, Erikson?" Lang asked. "You're on private property."
Erikson, a thin, cold-eyed man, looked vaguely disconcerted by Lang's direct approach. "I'm enjoying
the view."
"Enjoy it from another perspective," Lang suggested to him with a dangerous smile. "And in case you
have any ideas about retribution, you'd do better to forget them.You may have had a few years
experience in the army and as a security guard, but I was CIA for five years. I've forgotten tricks you
never even learned."
The implied threat seemed to be enough. Without a reply, Erikson started his car and pulled out of the
parking lot, giving Lang a resentful glare on the way.
Lang watched him drive out of sight before he turned and went into the building.
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Kirry was at her desk, talking on the phone to someone who was obviously a client.
"You have nothing to worry about!" she was reassuring the party at the end of the line. "Honestly, it's all
under control. That's right. We'll take care of everything. All you have to do is just show up, okay?
Okay. We'll take good care of you.Yes.Yes. Certainly. Thank you! Goodbye."
She hung up with an audible sigh of relief and leaned back in her chair. Her green eyes found Lang in the
doorway and she jumped, but not with fear. The impact of his presence had always caused that reaction,
although she was usually able to hide it. Tonight, she was tired. Ten things had gone wrong since she
walked in the door, and she'd spent the day untying tangles.
"I didn't think anyone was still in the building," she said, sitting up.
"I came by to check the parking lot," he said, shrugging his big shoulders. The soft fabric of his
gray-and-tan sport coat moved with the action, and the bulge under his arm was visible.
"You're wearing a gun," she accused involuntarily.
His expression was unfamiliar as he looked at her. "I've worn a gun for a long time. You never used to
pay any attention to it."
"That was before you signed on with the Company and went off to see how many bullets you could
collect and still live," she said with a sweet smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Don't tell me you cared, cupcake."
She lowered her eyes. She was wearing a neat gray suit with a pale pink knit blouse, and she looked
fragile and very pretty. Lang couldn't drag his eves away from her.
"I thought I did," she replied. "But you cured me."
He moved forward, cleared a corner of her cluttered desk and perched himself there. The movement
pulled his slacks taut across his powerful thighs. Kirry had to fight not to look at them. She'd touched him
there, once. She could still remember the impact of it, his hand guiding hers in the heat of passion, his [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]