Larger Than Life by Alison Kent (bill gates books recommendations .TXT) 📗

that, he laughed. It was either that or admit to feeling offended. "You really don't trust people much, do you? Or maybe it's just me."

"No." She scrunched up her freckled nose. "I mean, it's not you. Not you, specifically. Just. . . men in general that I don't trust easily."

Men in general. As in plural. His blood froze at the implications, and his thoughts about the local doctor were no longer so charitable.

"Look," she began. "Forget I said anything."

"Neva—"

"I'm going to check in with Candy. I'll be back in a few." Whirling around, she headed past the counter and back the way they'd originally come.

For several long minutes, Mick stood still and stared, helpless to do anything more. He was a trained field operative. Bloody hell, he was an assassin—or he had been before coming to work for SG-5. He was valued for his cool head under all conditions. But nothing had prepared him for this fierce wave of protectiveness.

He wanted to track down every bloody bastard who'd ever hurt Neva and break their necks with his bare hands. The strength of his wrath shocked him. Blind anger led to making mistakes.

And too many mistakes would get him killed.

Nine

In his Calvin Klein pajama bottoms, matching robe, and house shoes, Holden stood staring out his kitchen window into his backyard's tropical garden. Beside him on the black marble counter, the coffeemaker brewed. He enjoyed sleeping in on Saturday mornings, but couldn't name a time when he'd ever slept past ten A.M. the way he had today.

He blamed his exhaustion on yesterday's trying events and the immense relief of disaster averted. Had Liberty left the Barn with Sheriff Munroe and returned to her parents' home, Holden would have had to scramble for a backup plan. Right now, he had none. So far he'd had no need.

Things were continuing to go smoothly his way. Liberty was upstairs in his guest bedroom still sleeping, or so he supposed. He'd slept downstairs on the sofa in his study in order to avoid any hint of impropriety. He didn't want to frighten her and have her run off again before he'd tied her to him legally as his wife.

That would happen later today. He'd already put out a call to Judge Ahearn. The judge had agreed to meet Holden at the courthouse in the county seat of Pit Stop at four P.M. Holden rarely had need to exercise the power his position provided. In this case, in the matter of saving his own life, there had been no hesitation at all.

Judge Ahearn would have his clerk draw up the marriage license, would waive the waiting period, and simply replace Cal Abie's name with Holden's on the parental consent form the Mitchells had already filed. Hardly aboveboard, but Holden was willing to take the risk.

The Mitchells would be hard-pressed to prove any wrongdoing on behalf of the judge or Holden himself. They were two of the county's most highly respected citizens, while the Mitchells had only lived in the township a year, and their arrival from California and the life they'd lived there was still considered suspect by most.

The coffeemaker finished gurgling and Holden reached into the cupboard for a cup. He wondered if Liberty enjoyed coffee in the mornings, before remembering her age and family situation. The Mitchells were almost rabid in their religious zeal and had no doubt banned caffeine from their home along with television and all things secular.

Still, coming from California as a worldly teen, Holden couldn't imagine Liberty hadn't sampled the menu at Starbucks. He'd have to look into ordering her an espresso machine along with all the other things he'd made note of. The one thing he'd learned about his bride-to-be was that money could indeed buy her happiness.

Last night after he'd proposed, he'd driven her out to see the property where he was building his dream house. He'd walked her through the plot, explaining where he planned to locate the media room with its personal home theater system and computer network. She loved movies, she'd told him.

The lack of entertainment options in Earnestine was one of the two things she missed most about living in California. The other was the beach. At that, he'd pointed out where he'd staked off a section of the property for a wave pool. Her eyes had sparkled and her smile had grown more animated than he'd seen it all night.

He felt that the tour had gone well, a feeling capped off by her appreciation of the simple gold necklace he'd given her last night and her eventual agreement to the elopement he'd planned for today. She'd seen what he could offer her now, what he could offer her in the future. And with the choice being between him and Cal Able, well. . . there was no real choice, was there?

He picked up his coffee and sipped, reaching for the stack of yesterday's mail he'd dropped on the kitchen bar but had yet found time to sort. He'd shower and dress, then wake Liberty and take her shopping for something to wear to their wedding. If they got on the road soon, they should have time to make it to El Paso and back before they were scheduled to meet Judge Ahearn.

Once the marriage was a fait accompli, they'd visit the Mitchell home and share the joyful news. At least news he would consider joyful. Much as he was feeling now. It was almost over. It was almost done. By tonight he would hold the upper hand.

He was feeling so confident that when he ran across it in the stack of mail, the hand-printed envelope failed to cause the same blip to his pulse as the others. The ones that had been arriving monthly for the past year.

Without opening the envelope, he knew what the note inside would say. The threats the writer would make to expose Holden's past. There would be no demands, no offers to negotiate. There would