[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
angry line.
Better think again, Tim. Ty barely resisted rolling his eyes. He could crush the little bastard with
one hand and leave his best weapon hanging by his side. This wasn t a contest in anyone s book. T-
bone was barely a man in Ty s eyes, nothing more than a punk kid who d turned bullying into murder.
All of his macho bullshit homophobic posturing was probably for effect.
The easy psychobabble answer was to guess he was a closet case. Smaller than his older brother,
with delicate features and a slender build, there wasn t any doubt in Ty s mind he would at least have
been hit on once or twice in his life. Given his upbringing, Tim would have freaked out. But there
was no amount of pop psychology to excuse years of abuse or murder or the association with a
megalomaniac set on creating his own nation. No matter how you looked at it, Tim Triplett deserved
to spend his life behind bars, not get the easy way out with a quick death.
Keeping his anger in check, Ty tried again. I d prefer to keep you alive, but I will kill you if you
don t drop your weapon.
Fucker. Think you could? You and what army?
As if in slow motion, Ty saw the barrel of the weapon raise, the slight shift of finger inside the
trigger guard, and the cold, flat look of deadly intent. Well shit.
Feinting left, lunging right, he threw his knife while still mid-jump. The rifle clattered to the dirt as
T-bone went over onto his side, his hand clutching at the hilt of the knife, the blade buried just under
his collarbone.
Ty continued his roll. Coming back up on his feet, he closed the three steps necessary to recover
the rifle. Lowering the barrel to a few inches above the gasping Tim s face, he made sure he had the
young man s attention. Don t need an army I m Navy-trained.
Chapter Eleven
Two weeks later
Park turned the dough he was working with into a lightly oiled bowl and draped a clean dishtowel
over the top. After washing his hands, he put the bowl on a shelf in the warmer to rise, automatically
glancing at the clock. Still three hours before the crack of dawn. He d been awake for nearly two
hours already which explained the dough but it was still too early to start packing.
What are you doing in my kitchen? Ty asked, causing Park to jump.
Cooking something to eat. Park wasn t sure why he bothered to answer. Neither the question, nor
his response had changed for the last two weeks. Of course, Park didn t usually show up at oh-dark-
thirty as Ty would say so maybe there was a reason to ask, after all, he conceded.
Ty stood for a minute, hands on his hips as his gaze traveled over the dusting of flour on the
stainless work station, then shifted to the dirty dishes in the sink. Park s already frayed temper
snapped. I ll have them out of your way in a minute, he ground out between clenched teeth.
Without replying, Ty headed straight for the stove. Park had spent enough time in the kitchen to
know Ty s usual custom was to start a pot of coffee on the stove, before he did anything else. Hoping
to avoid any conflict, Park had already taken care of that little detail.
Hmm& you made coffee?
Yes. Look, I m sorry. I know I m in your space. Give me a minute to wash these up, then I ll be
out of your way.
Ty poured a large mug of coffee, flipped the switch on the industrial-sized coffee urn to start the
brew for everyone else, then leaned his hips against the counter and studied Park over the rim of his
cup.
Park ran a sink full of hot water and pretended he didn t notice the big cook staring daggers.
Kind of hard to get out of my way when you have dough rising in my proof oven. What s in the
bowl?
Pumpkin cinnamon rolls. I can wait to roll them out until you re finished with whatever you have
planned.
How many did you make?
Two dozen. I know that s not enough, but I thought you could& Park rolled his eyes. Look, I m
sorry. I should have asked first.
Two dozen, huh? That s enough for half the men. Let s double the batch. Where s the recipe?
Oh, I uh& Park glanced around the kitchen, looking for a way out of this awkward conversation.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]