The Gentrys: Cinco. Linda ConradЧитать онлайн книгу.

      MILLS & BOON

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      LINDA CONRAD

      Born in Brazil to a commercial pilot and his wife, Linda Conrad was raised in south Florida and has been a dreamer and storyteller for as long as she can remember. After her mother’s death a few years ago, she moved from her then home in Texas to Southern California and gave up her previous life as a stockbroker to rededicate herself to her first love: writing.

      Linda and her husband, along with a Siamese mix cat named Sam, recently moved back to south Florida. She’s been writing contemporary romances for about five years and loves sharing them with readers. She enjoys growing roses, reading cozy mysteries and sexy romances and driving her little convertible in the sunshine. But most important, Linda loves learning about—and living with—passion.

      It makes Linda’s day to hear from readers. Visit with her at www.LindaConrad.com.

      For Frank Sanders, a real-life Texas cowboy who once worked on a place very much like the Gentry Ranch. The people and the place wouldn't have come to life without your help.

       Thanks, my old friend.

      Texas Cattle Baron And Wife Lost At Sea

      Late last night the Coast Guard announced it is formally abandoning search and rescue operations for T. A. Gentry IV and his wife, Kay, current owners of the Gentry Ranch in Costillo County. The two have been missing for five days off the coast of Dry Tortugas.

      According to a spokesman for the Coast Guard, the couple was vacationing on a friend’s yacht when unexpected hurricane-force winds developed in the area of their last known position. No signs of the yacht or those onboard have been located despite an exhaustive search. According to the owner, the yacht was not equipped with an EPIRB signaling system and no radio distress calls have been intercepted.

      The couple leaves behind their three children. Sons: nineteen-year-old T. A. Gentry V; Callon Aaron, seventeen; and daughter, Abigail Josephine, twelve.

      A memorial service will be held at the First Community Church in Gentry Wells on the twenty-third of this month.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      One

      Cinco Gentry closed his cell phone, listening as the snap echoed off the Texas hills. He wondered if he’d just agreed to do the right thing—or if one more catastrophe was about to get the better of him.

      At this ungodly hour of the morning, his longtime friend and business partner, Kyle Sullivan, had called from nearby San Angelo to say he needed a favor. A new client needed Cinco’s protection on the ranch. This client was Kyle’s old Air Force buddy named Frosty, and the guy had apparently found himself in a world of trouble.

      Well, that’s what Cinco rather smugly thought he was the best at doing, after all. Security and protection. Surely a new project for his Internet security firm would work out better than the rest of his life had recently.

      Because of the frustrating conversations he’d had last night with his brother and sister, Cinco had found himself, once again, standing at the foot of his parents’ empty graves just as the dawn peeked over the trees. He cursed all four generations of Gentrys that had come before him. Stabbing at a wayward weed with the toe of his boot, he especially damned the two headstones that had always failed to provide him with any answers.

      Dang, what he’d give to be able to ask his parents just a few more questions. Like what had really become of them on that storm-swept night so long ago, and what in the world he should do about his rebellious siblings now.

      The granite markers for T. A. Gentry IV and his wife, Kay Hempstead Gentry, put there only as memorials, had silently mocked Cinco for these past twelve long years. Instead of answers, only the vague reverberations of ghostly voices joined the cell phone echoes bouncing off the distant hills, reminding him that he would never know the truth.

      Spectacular countryside spread out below him. On one side of Graveyard Hill the waning full moon magnified the shadows of mesquite