âI donât want you here, Echo,â he said, trying sincerity. âItâs too dangerous.â
âI know you donât. But youâre injured and someone needs to cover your back.â
âAnd that someone is you,â he said, and the tone of his voice let her know what he thought of that idea.
âIâm better than nothing,â she said, and then added, âDonât say Iâm not. You know itâs true. If these men are as horrible as you say they are, two people are better than one.â
âNot when one of them is a pretty woman,â he said, âwhich is why Iâm asking you for the last time to turn the truck around and drive to the airport.â
She spared him another glance âIâm relieved to hear you say this is the last time youâre asking. Itâs getting monotonous. Listen, Adam, I promise Iâll go meekly away after this little visit. Youâll never have to even think of me again.â
He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again without uttering a word. What was the point? He knew heâd never stop thinking about her.
This book is dedicated with love and appreciation to my husband, Arnold, brainstormer superb!
Alice Sharpe met her husband-to-be on a cold, foggy beach in Northern California. One year later they were married. Their union has survived the rearing of two children, a handful of earthquakes registering over 6.5, numerous cats and a few special dogs, the latest of which is a yellow Lab named Annie Rose. Alice and her husband now live in a small rural town in Oregon, where she devotes the majority of her time to pursuing her second love, writing.
Alice loves to hear from readers. You can write her at P.O. Box 755, Brownsville, OR 97327. An SASE for reply is appreciated.
Adam Westin âItâs up to him to stop the looting of the prehistoric burial cave located on Open Sky land before an explosive threat from the past destroys everythingâand everyoneâhe loves.
Echo De Gris âShe spent her first years of life on the Open Sky. Sheâs back now, but just for a visit. Becoming reacquainted with her childhood nemesis makes her wonder if sheâll ever want to leave. A killer makes her wonder if sheâll live long enough to get away.
Cody Westin âHeâs determined not to make the same mistake his father made. He wants his wife backâis he too late?
Brice Westin âIs it true he doesnât know where Adamâs mother disappeared to all those years ago, or is it possible heâs known all along and will now do anything to protect that secret?
Lonnie Nielsen âHeâs in for a heap of trouble. Or is he causing it?
Del Halverson âOne of Briceâs oldest friends. What exactly did he do when he left Wyoming? And is he doing it again?
J.D. Oakes âAnother old pal with a hazy past. Is it finally catching up with him?
Pete Westin âEchoâs stepfather. Is it a coincidence that he left the Open Sky after Adamâs motherâs disappearance, and returned the day the violence escalated?
David Lassiter âThe cowpoke who ran off with Adamâs mother. Or did he?
Willet Garvey âHeâs no fan of the Westins. How far will hatred and greed take him?
Hank Garvey âWilletâs son, Hank is determined to exact revenge at any cost.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
As Lonnie fumbled the key in the lock, he glanced over his shoulder and scanned the faces of his buddies.
âRemember, you guys,â he said, not too surprised to detect a slur in his voice. Damn hooch sure snuck up on a man. âThis is top secret. You gottaâ¦gotta promise you wonât tell anyone about this. Especially not Janine.â
The other two men nodded solemnly.
The key finally clicked and he pushed in the door. He didnât want to turn on the light until heâd secured the room again. Never knew when Janine might take it into her head to come on down to the basement and make sure he wasnât gambling her trust fund away on a busted flush. He urged his friends forward into the heavy shadows. âDonât touch nothing,â he warned.
Once they were all crammed inside, he closed the door, slid the dead bolt, switched on the light and waited for a chorus of gratifying gasps.
âWhatâs all this junk?â
The corners of Lonnieâs mouth drooped. âWhat do you mean, what is it? Itâs artifacts.â
âYour âprivate stashâ is bunch of old broken pots?â one man scoffed. Now Lonnie was getting mad. After all these years he had finally decided to share his collection and this was what he got? He pointed at a square-looking figure in a glass case. âThat there, thatâs a rare Central American Human Effigy. Worth almost five thousand bucks.â He pointed at another case. âAnd that canteen is Southwest Anasazi. I paid three thousand for it. The case over there is full of Mississippian Indian relics. Any museum would love to have just one of these things.â