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The Specialist. Dani SinclairЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Specialist - Dani Sinclair


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shrugged. “You got toast.”

      “And an entire meal.”

      “Rosa tries to fatten everyone up. We’ve never been able to explain the dangers of cholesterol to her.”

      “But I only wanted toast and juice.”

      “Juice, sí,” Rosa beamed as she deposited glasses of fresh-squeezed orange juice in front of Kendra and Rafe.

      “Gracias, Rosa,” Rafe told her with a beaming smile. The woman returned it and bustled away before Kendra could find the wits to thank her as well.

      “But—”

      “Don’t fight it. You won’t win.” He forked up a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

      Kendra stared from him to her plate, wondering if he’d deliberately told Rosa to bring her this huge meal. She couldn’t eat it all, but to ignore it seemed churlish. She was an unexpected, unwanted guest here. Kendra picked up her fork.

      “Now tell me why you personally hate Rialto,” Rafe said.

      Eggs fell from her fork to land back on her plate with a splat. “I never said—”

      “Not in words, but your tone says it each time you say his name.”

      If Rafe could read her so easily, she was going to have trouble lying to him.

      “He killed some people I—cared about.”

      “You mean he had them killed.”

      “They’re dead and he’s responsible.” She leaned toward him, seizing the chance to push home her point. “I know a great deal about Rialto. I can help you get to him.”

      “Thanks, but I don’t need any help.”

      “I can make your job easier. Take me along as your personal assistant when you get the security chief’s job.”

      Rafe stopped chewing. For a long second he simply stared at her, then he swallowed slowly, took a sip of his dark, strong coffee and shook his head. “No.”

      The finality of his tone shocked her. She blinked and set her jaw. “This isn’t negotiable.”

      “Nope. It’s not.”

      “I am going with you.”

      “I told you, the only sort of partners that I have—”

      She aimed her fork at him. “If you don’t take me along, I can and will blow your cover completely. You’ll never get near Rialto again, but I’ll find another way inside.”

      Anger darkened his eyes, though his expression remained calm. “I’ve never cared for threats.”

      “You aren’t leaving me any choice. You’ve written me off without even knowing what I can do.”

      He leaned toward her suggestively, but there was only hard appraisal in his expression. “What is it, exactly, that you can do?”

      Kendra refused to be intimidated. “I can help you get hired—or I can make it impossible. I know computer systems better than anyone you’re apt to meet. Once we’re inside, I can pull information from his computer files that you’d never get any other way. Information that can help you get not only him, but Calderone as well. I promise you, I know what I’m doing.”

      Rafe sat back, picked up a piece of bacon and bit down, chewing and swallowing before he spoke. “And if I don’t take you along, you’ll blow my cover, is that it?”

      “Yes.”

      “What would you gain from that?”

      He was so smug.

      “Satisfaction?”

      Rafe continued to stare at her. She shifted, uncomfortably under that hard appraisal.

      “Your ego could use a pin or two,” she added.

      Rafe leaned so close to her that she could see the angry flecks of color in his dark eyes.

      “You don’t even know me.”

      He was trying to intimidate her. Well it wasn’t going to work.

      “That makes us even, so stop trying to write me off before you hear me out. All I want is a chance.”

      Without warning, his hands framed her face. Her breath caught somewhere in the back of her throat while her heart began to pound wildly. His eyes went from glittery to dark and smoky. His voice deepened erotically.

      “What sort of chance, Kendra? This?”

      From somewhere she dredged the will to pull free before those tempting lips could settle over hers. “No!”

      The corners of his lips tilted in amusement.

      “No?”

      She would not let him bait her. She would not!

      “I see ‘no’ isn’t a common word in your vocabulary. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to hearing it.”

      Was that a flash of respect she’d glimpsed in his eyes? Her glance fell on Rosa who stood across the room, watching them with a troubled frown.

      “Blackmail is an ugly business,” Rafe said levelly.

      “Yes, isn’t it? But I mean what I say. I want to be there when Rialto is taken down. And I can help.”

      Rafe sat back thoughtfully. “You must have cared about this person he killed very much.”

      Kendra forced down the nightmare.

      Rafe stood abruptly. He gathered his dishes and strode to the sink. In a quiet, kindly tone he spoke to Rosa before lifting the handset on the telephone.

      “This isn’t my decision to make, Kendra. Excuse me while I make a phone call.”

      Kendra wondered if he was angry or just annoyed. He pushed a series of buttons and stepped into the hall. His voice drifted to where she sat.

      “Hey, beautiful, how are you this morning? No, nothing like that, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel our date this afternoon.”

      The back door swung open with a crash that sent Kendra whirling. A little girl rushed inside, giggling in glee. An older man dressed in dusty work clothes, and a woman with golden brown hair and dark brown eyes followed on her heels.

      “Rosa! Rosa!”

      The child stopped calling and came to an immediate halt at the sight of Kendra sitting at the table all alone.

      Rosa bustled forward saying something in rapid Spanish. The little girl responded, never once taking her pretty brown eyes from Kendra. The gnarled ranch hand and his companion came to a stop as well, but they didn’t seem surprised to see her sitting there.

      “Ma’am.”

      Kendra offered an uncertain smile.

      “Who are you?” the child asked abruptly.

      “I’m Kendra. Who are you?”

      “I’m Elena. My daddy works here. That’s my mommy.”

      Abby and Jake Cantrell’s little girl, Kendra realized.

      “I’m Abby Cantrell,” The woman greeted her, while her dark brown eyes assessed Kendra candidly. “This patient man is Slim Dillon.”

      “Hi.”

      “I’m going riding,” the child announced. “Do you want to come and watch?”

      “Uh,” she looked helplessly at the child’s mother, but it was the man called Slim, towering beside her, who answered.

      “Can if you want. We got a training ring set up outside. She tends to show off for visitors, but that’s okay.”

      “Well—”


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