To-" Brace yourself?" He moved to the door and she could see that the light in Clete's office was lower than that of the outer, sunlit front office, w...ich made it hard to see through the glass and the half-closed venetian blinds from the front area. "Maybe you should."Clete released his gentle grip on her arm and walked into the dim back office, and Desirée, spellbound to his riddle, and on tenterhooks for knowing what all this had to do with Mark, followed him in, fighting to control. . ?" Yes!" Mark heard himself snap, then caught himself, aware of the edge to his voice. "Dad whipped his ass... and two-weeks later he was dead... by an accidental bullet fired from Link Morgan's rifle." That sonofabitch... he'd probably even cheat at Monopoly!" Steve Foster derided, lighting a cigarette.Mark couldn't help but snicker at the remark. "You write too much crap for that expose mag you work for, Steve." Maybe... maybe, but I know a lousy crook when I see one... if that gentle term. More

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