The Reckoning. Christie Ridgway

cynical. Cold. Distant. Determined. Ask anyone.”

      Shaking her head, she rose to her feet. “I don’t need to. I was feeling low and not very confident and you kissed me. That’s sweet.”

      “I didn’t do it to be sweet!”

      She had the wide blue eyes of a baby. “Then why did you?”

      “Because…” It had nothing to do with sweetness. It was because he thought she was beautiful and sexy, which, if she wasn’t so sweet herself, she’d see proof of in the tight fit of his now uncomfortable jeans.

      “Told you.” With a little grin, she spun on one foot and sauntered out, her hips swishing with a sassy little twitch.

      That womanly touch was almost worth being called sweet. Almost.

      “Don’t fool yourself,” he called after her. “I’m cynical. Cold. Distant. Determined. Just wait and I’ll prove it to you.”

      The bathroom door closing was her answer.

      He was still smiling—smiling again!—when his cell phone rang. It sat on a low table he’d pushed to the side of the room, so he made a long reach for it.

      “Jamison, here.”

      “And here, too,” a voice said.

      Emmett forgot about spring and sunshine. Darkness closed in on him again. He felt it, smelled it, sensed the sulfur whiff of evil in the air. Striding to the doorway of the exercise room, he glanced down the hall to keep watch on the bathroom door. To make sure Linda was safe.

      “Where the hell are you, Jason?”

      “Do you think I called to tell you, little brother? Then you’re stupider than I thought.”

      Emmett gritted his teeth at his brother’s taunting. In a perverse sense, Jason was entitled to his arrogance. The police had had him in custody once and then he’d escaped to kidnap Lily Fortune. Later, even with experienced men like Emmett in the mix, the FBI had lost him during the ransom exchange. And an agent had lost his life.

      “We figured you’d be on your way to the South Pacific or South America with the ransom money by now,” Emmett said, calming his voice.

      “You’d like me out of the country, wouldn’t you?”

      What Emmett would like was to find his brother and stop him once and for all. It was what he’d vowed to do. Cynical, cold, distant, determined. If Linda could look inside him right now, she’d have no doubt about the kind of man he was.

      “I’d like to know why you called, Jason.”

      “I read this morning’s Red Rock newspaper.”

      There was a clue. His brother was near enough to Red Rock to have easy access to the local paper. What it might have said, though, Emmett had no idea. Since he was in San Antonio now, he read the San Antonio paper. But Jason couldn’t know what city he was in and Emmett certainly wasn’t about to tell him. His brother was smart enough without providing him any aid. “I didn’t get a chance to read it yet myself.”

      “Didn’t get a chance to read it,” Jason mocked, his voice rising. “You don’t need to read it to know that Ryan Fortune left you a bundle of cash and stock options.”

      Apparently some of the details of Ryan’s will had been leaked to the press. It might have irritated Emmett if it hadn’t also brought Jason out of the woodwork. “Hey, it wasn’t my choice, Jase. That was Ryan’s doing.”

      “Why should you get any of the Fortune money when it was me who worked so hard for it?”

      Jason had thought himself entitled to the Fortune wealth since they were kids, and their grandfather, Farley Jamison, had been obsessed with the money as a means to fund his grandiose political aspirations. “But you have some of the Fortune money—Lily’s ransom,” Emmett pointed out.

      “I don’t care about that,” Jason snapped.

      Emmett frowned. “You don’t care about the money?”

      “Not as much as I care about taking you down, little brother. Keep looking over your shoulder, Emmett, because I’m coming after you. Then I’ll have my reward. And my revenge.”

      The call clicked off. Emmett remained standing, staring at the phone in his hand. Well, well, well. This put a new spin on things.

      The man Emmett had promised himself to stop had just promised to stop him.

      Fine, he thought.

      May the best man win.