Read Online Firelight at Mustang Ridge by Jesse Hayworth - Free Book Online Page B

stepped through the door. “Howdy, MizTraveler. Fancy meeting up with you here. And look. This time, we’re both wearing masks!”
    *   *   *
    Danny whirled and gasped, surprise banging up against the
oh, hell, no
of realizing that she had an audience. And then, a nanosecond later, a flush seared her skin as she recognized the figure in the doorway. “Sam!”
    It was a very different version of the man she had met the other day, though, and not just because of what she knew about him now. Clean-shaven, with a high-tech-looking sledgehammer over his shoulder and the burned-out archway framing his body, he looked taller than she remembered, his T-shirt stretching across his chest to hint at rangy muscles. But while he might be trying to pull off the
hey, howdy, glad to see you again,
she could see the sympathy in those intelligent gray eyes.
    She didn’t remember what she had said just now—she’d been so caught up in the violent satisfaction of battering at the kitchen cabinets until her bad wrist was damn near on fire. Whatever she’d said, though, he had definitely heard. And between the way their first encounter had played out and now this, he probably thought she was completely mental.
    Flushing harder beneath the mask and goggles, she said, “I didn’t realize you were there.” Which scored about a million on the one-to-obvious scale. “I don’t know what you heard, but . . .” She shrugged. “I’m not as nuts as I look. I swear.”
    He studied her for a moment with those granite-gray eyes that seemed to go right through her. Then, instead of saying anything, he lowered the futuristic-looking tool from his shoulder and held it out to her, handle first.The gleaming metal had a foam-wrapped grip, thin shaft, and complicated articulation where the head attached.
    She frowned at it. “I’ve got a hammer.”
    â€œThis one’s better.” He closed the distance between them, snagged her sledgehammer easily from where it was wedged into the side of a cabinet, and pressed the pimped-out replacement into her hand. “You can leave it in the back of my truck when you’re done. Green Ford with ‘Babcock Gems’ on the door.” With that, he sauntered out, carrying her sledgehammer by two fingers, like it weighed little more than a stick of gum.
    Danny blinked after him, thinking she should go after him and make him trade back—she had been doing fine on her own, and she didn’t need him coming in and trying to fix things for her. But even through the heavy work gloves, the spongy grip felt good against her palms and her wrist suddenly didn’t hurt so much. So instead of chasing him down she adjusted her respirator and looked for a target.
    The cabinet in the corner was about ready to fall. Growling, she lined up and swung. The lighter, faster sledgehammer blurred through the air, shattered the door, carved through the bottom shelf, and buried itself in the Formica with a shuddering impact that sent her reeling, not because of bad reverb, but because she couldn’t believe she had just done all
that
. She gaped—first at the cabinet that looked like someone had wrapped it around a tree at high speed, and then at the caved-in counter and the robot-leg sledgehammer that should’ve come with a warning label, like LAST USED BY THOR . “Wow!”
    A strange sort of fight-or-flight buzz kicked in—battlelust, maybe, or hysteria—and she wrestled the sledgehammer free. Not thinking of Brandon now, she lined up again on the mangled cabinet and swung again. And again. Three blows and it was off the wall, a fourth and it was squashed roadkill-flat and her pulse was pounding, her blood singing through her veins like she had just made an impossible summit. Jumping up on top of the pile, she did a little boogie-woogie dance. Then, hefting the SuperSledge, she headed for what was left