Larger Than Life Alison Kent (read out loud books .TXT) 📖

"Oh, come on, Yancey. Holden Wagner? Don't tell me having him show up in your office wasn't a surprise." As she sat in the seat Wagner had vacated, Jeanne's smile asked questions Yancey knew he wasn't going to like. "And an intimidating one at that, am I right?"

"No, you're not right." What a load of crap. Intimidation had nothing to do with Yancey's reaction to the other man. "Gimme a break. The man's no better than any of those pervs in Earnestine. He's worse, in fact, helping them get away with that bullshit they call religion. Protected statutory rape, that's what it is."

"The girls aren't forced, Yancey," she said calmly. "And they marry with their parents' permission. You may not like their beliefs or practices, but what they do is perfectly legal."

"Only because of the way pretty boy there twists and ties the law into suits and injunctions and anything else he can. He's a piece of work. The defender of religious freedom, my ass."

"Yancey Munroe." Her smile teased him, the way the brackets around her mouth deepened, the way her lashes fluttered beneath a sliver of bangs, the way her laugh lines crinkled. "Are you jealous?"

"Of what?" he asked with a snort.

"The attention he gets. The fact that he's making the news while making a name. The way he always wins." Jeanne glanced almost wistfully at the closed door. "The way he always looks like he stepped off a big city society page no matter how hot and dusty it is."

"I deserve more credit than that, Jeanne. I don't need a thousand-dollar suit to prove I know the law." What he did need was for a nice cluster bomb to obliterate Earnestine from the map and make his job easier.

"So, why was he here?"

"Business."

"Now, Yancey. You give me a little more credit. If Holden Wagner comes all this way to see you in person, it's got to be about one of the girls." She paused. "And the Barn."

Damn Neva Case and her meddling. His life would be a hell of a lot simpler if the Big Brown Barn was exactly what it appeared to the public to be. The business it was registered and licensed and taxed as. A legitimate business. One that designed, crafted, and sold jewelry and other girly bric-a-brac through mail order and the Internet.

Neva did enough business, in fact, that Jonnie Mayer, Pit Stop's postmistress, had taken on part-time help just to process the orders coming in and the packages going out. But Neva's jewelry wasn't the business in question. And Jeanne knew that. His wife was not a dumb woman. And he'd been silent too long.

That became obvious when her blue eyes, which usually sparkled, narrowed harshly. "Don't tell me you're going out there."

"I'm doing my job. That's all. I'm not accusing Neva of anything. A girl's missing, and her family has reason to believe she's hiding out at the Barn."

"Are you going to Judge Ahearn for a warrant?"

Yancey shook his head. "I'm just going to pay Neva a friendly visit."

"When?"

"Later tonight."

Jeanne's mouth narrowed to match her eyes. "Alone?"

"With Wagner."

At that, she slammed her palm down on his desk. "Yancey, you promised me you would not go out there again."

"This is business. It's not about Spencer." And even as he said it, he wondered which of them he was trying hardest to convince.

Jeanne crossed her arms tightly and leaned back, turning her body sideways. "Everything for you is about Spencer. I specially when it comes to the Barn."

"You're exaggerating, Jeanne."

"I am not. I have been married to you for twenty years and have been Spencer's mother for nineteen. The same length of time you've been his father." She pointed at him with one finger, her voice shaking more than her hand. "Don't tell me I'm exaggerating. Not after what went on there with Spencer and Candy."

Candy Roman. Neva's premiere designer. And a big fat thorn in Yancey's side. He was not about to stand back and let that trashy hip-hop piece sink her claws into his only son. Spencer had a football scholarship to Texas Tech. He'd be leaving Pit Stop in less than a month. Yancey intended to see his son had no reason to ever come back except to visit his mother.

"I'm going out there tonight. With Wagner. A courtesy call to see if Neva knows anything about the missing girl. If I happen to run into Candy—"

Jeanne surged to her feet. "You had damn well not happen to, or so help me, Yancey Munroe, you'll be bunking in with your son. And you can explain to him why."

Yancey felt the slam of the office door reverberate in his bones. That woman. His wife. He would not be sleeping in any bed but hers, and she knew that. Taking care of Nevada Case and her Big Brown Barn was the business of law en-lorcement. Seeing that Candy Roman kept away from his son was the business of Spencer's future.

Jeanne didn't have to like any of it but, quite frankly, none of it was her business at all.

Edward Bronson Hill, DVM, MD, PhD, had moved to Pit Stop, Texas, the same year as Neva, making them both newcomers in a town where old-timers were slow to accept change. Embracing such required a sign. Pigs flying. Hell freezing. Roosters laying. The moon turning blue.

The initial cold stares and colder shoulders had only recently begun to thaw. At least in Doc Hill's case. Everyone out here in ranching country would eventually need a vet, probably more often than they'd need a general practitioner—one who made regular house calls.

And, besides, who could find fault with any man who devoted his life to the honest service of others? Especially one who'd shown up just as the town's only veterinarian had put himself out to pasture.

Neva, an attorney from the big city—aka Sodom or maybe Gomorrah—had been automatically suspect and subjected to a longer probationary period. She expected to retire before fulfilling it. She'd made friends, yes;