Deadly Inheritance: A Romantic Suspense Read Online Free Page B

alone in the glare of the hot sun. Abandoned. Just like being in school again, watching the other kids get onto the buses and roll away while she waited at the curb for her mother.
    She really was too trusting. She should never have agreed to let Mr. O’Brien drive. She glanced uneasily up and down the road, listening. She felt exposed standing on the porch of her house, like she was displayed on a pedestal.
    Here I am—take a shot! That threatening letter hadn’t been mailed—it had just been left in her mailbox. Whoever sent it to her knew where she lived and had been at her house at least once. He could be watching her now, the crosshairs of his rifle sight lined up with her eyebrows.
    She strained to hear the sounds of a car coming closer. Nothing.
    Why had she thought Gabe O’Brien would be different and keep his word? Because he had twinkling blue eyes and a strong, square chin? He’d promised he’d pick her up at nine, and here it was, nine-fifteen and no sign of anyone, or anything, except a couple of lunatic squirrels who kept ramming each other because they couldn’t decide who was chasing whom across the lawn. The animals made her feel marginally better. They created the illusion that everything was okay. Normal.
    She stared down the street again. Did she give him a half-hour or go for a more convenient fifteen minutes and just drive herself?
    To heck with him.
    She’d just picked up her bag to go down her front steps when a monstrous vehicle roared into her driveway. The thing appeared to be some kind of hybrid pickup truck and sports utility vehicle. She stopped, appalled. She’d thought her car was well-used, but this thing looked like it had spent the last fifty years being abused in the baking heat and sand of North Africa. Whatever its original color had been, there was nothing left of it except dull gray metal, and even the vehicle’s manufacturer would have a hard time recognizing it. A wide metal grill protected the headlights and bumper and behind the passenger compartment was a gigantic metal box welded in place where a truck’s bed would be. The square container had a few small grill-covered windows that suggested there might even be seats back there.
    The battered driver’s door jerked open with a harsh squeal, and O’Brien leapt out. “Do you need help with your luggage?” He rubbed his hands on his thighs, leaving dark streaks behind.
    “No. I just have this one bag. Interesting vehicle.” She edged closer to the truck, wondering if she really should have met him at Autumn Hill, after all.
    “It’s been to interesting places.” He looked down at his hands. Dirt showed under his nails, and he rubbed them again on his jeans. “Had to change a tire.”
    “Oh.” She studied him as she edged closer. If he wasn’t going to apologize, she wasn’t going to say it was okay.
    Oblivious to her disapproval, he grabbed the handle of her bag and headed around the side of his vehicle. “I’ll put this in the back. The passenger door’s open.”
    The inside was as utilitarian as the outside. There were two black leather captain’s chairs that were surprisingly comfortable and well equipped with seat belts and knobs to adjust to any desired position, including completely prone, as she discovered to her dismay when she hit a lever that threw her back and left her staring up at the roof. The dashboard looked like the cockpit of a plane with more gauges, dials, buttons, levers, and monitors than she really wanted to think about.
    Well, it could have been worse. This could have been a super-charged sports car driven by a short, fat, balding man with cigar-breath and perspiration stains under his arms. By comparison, this car seemed positively useful, and Mr. O’Brien was…not short. Not at all.
    Before she could do more than adjust her seat to an upright position and lean over to try to identify at least the speedometer, Mr. O’Brien climbed into the driver’s seat, and once more she grew