RESCUE AT CARDWELL RANCH Read Online Free Page A

turned in his office chair, the smirk still on his face since he’d been expecting McKenzie. He felt it fall away as he saw the cops. Hadn’t it been enough that an officer had shown up at his door last night, questioning him about stalking the receptionist at the office? Now what?
    “Mr. Thompson?” the policewoman asked. Her name tag read P. Donovan.
    “Yes?” he asked, getting to his feet. He saw them look around the empty office.
    “Are you here alone?”
    “Everyone seems to be running late this morning,” he said, and wondered why that was. Because they’d all been given a heads-up? Gus noticed the way both cops were looking at him, scrutinizing him as if he had horns growing out of his head.
    “We’d like to ask you a few questions,” the woman cop said. “Ms. Sheldon has asked us to first see that you remove your belongings from the premises.”
    “What?” he demanded. “The bitch is firing me? Has she lost her mind?”
    P. Donovan’s eyes went hard and cold at the word bitch. The word had just slipped out. He’d known McKenzie had it in for him, but he’d never dreamed she’d fire him.
    “I’m her biggest-earning salesman,” he said as if there had been a mistake made and he hadn’t made it. Neither responded. Instead, he saw the male cop looking around. “What?”
    “Are there some boxes in the office you can put your belongings into?” the cop asked.
    Hadn’t either of them been listening? “She can’t do this.” Gus heard the hopelessness in his voice. He hated nothing worse than the feeling that came with it. He wanted to break something. Tear the place up. Then find McKenzie Sheldon and punch her in the face.
    The male cop had gone into a storage room. He came back with two boxes. “Please take only those items belonging to you personally. We’ll watch so we can tell Ms. Sheldon.”
    Gus gritted his teeth. McKenzie didn’t even have the guts to face him. Well, this wasn’t the last she’d see of him. He’d catch her in a dark alley. He started to shovel the top of the desk off into one of the boxes, but the male cop stopped him. T. Bradley, the name tag read.
    “Leave any inventory you’ve been working on.”
    He grabbed up his coffee mug and threw it into the box. The couple of tablespoons of coffee left in the cup made a dark stain across the bottom. The same way McKenzie’s blood was going to stain the spot where they met up again, he told himself.
    His personal belongings barely filled one box. That realization made him sad and even angrier. This business should have been his. When he was a boy, he used to sleep on the floor of the main office when his mother had to work late. This place had been more like home than home during those years when she’d been growing the business.
    “Is that everything?” P. Donovan asked.
    He didn’t bother to answer as T. Bradley asked for his key to the building.
    “Ms. Sheldon has taken out a restraining order against you,” the cop said. “Are you familiar with the way they work?”
    He looked at the cop. “Seriously? Do I look like someone who is familiar with restraining orders?”
    “You are required to stay away from Ms. Sheldon and this building. If you harass her—”
    “I get it,” he snapped, and handed over his key. As he started toward the door, T. Bradley blocked his way.
    “We’re going to need you to come down to the police station with us to answer a few more questions.”
    “About what?” The receptionist, bloody hell. “Look, I haven’t done anything that any red-blooded American male doesn’t do. I like women.” He realized they were staring at him. “Come on. She liked it or she wouldn’t have led me on.”
    “Whom are you referring to?” P. Donovan asked.
    He frowned. “Cynthia. The receptionist. She was threatening to call the cops last night, but I didn’t really think she’d do it. Why would you ask me that? Who else called the cops on me?”
    “Didn’t she ask you to leave her