Will of Steel Read Online Free

you.”
    He took off his wide-brimmed hat and laid it on the hall table. “We can argue about that later. Right now, we need to eat some of that nice, warm, fresh bread before it gets cold and butter won’t melt on it. Shouldn’t we?” he added with a grin.
    She laughed. “I guess we should.”

Two
    T he bread was as delicious as he’d imagined it would be. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste.
    â€œYou could cook, if you’d just try,” she said.
    â€œNot really. I can’t measure stuff properly.”
    â€œI could teach you.”
    â€œWhy do I need to learn how, when you do it so well already?” he asked reasonably.
    â€œYou live alone,” she began.
    He raised an eyebrow. “Not for long.”
    â€œFor the tenth time today…”
    â€œThe California guy was in town today,” he said grimly. “He came by the office to see me.”
    â€œHe did?” She felt apprehensive.
    He nodded as he bit into another slice of buttered bread with perfect white teeth. “He’s already approached contractors for bids to build his housing project.” He bit the words off as he was biting the bread.
    â€œOh.”
    Jet-black eyes pierced hers. “I told him about the clause in the will.”
    â€œWhat did he say?”
    â€œThat he’d heard you wouldn’t marry me.” She grimaced.
    â€œHe was strutting around town like a tom turkey,” he added. He finished the bread and sipped coffee. His eyes closed as he savored it. “You make great coffee, Jake!” he exclaimed. “Most people wave the coffee over water. You could stand up a spoon in this.”
    â€œI like it strong, too,” she agreed. She studied his hard, lean face. “I guess you live on it when you have cases that keep you out all night tracking. There have been two or three of those this month alone.”
    He nodded. “Our winter festival brings in people from all over the country. Some of them see the mining company’s bankroll as a prime target.”
    â€œNot to mention the skeet-and-trap-shooting regional championships,” she said. “I’ve heard that thieves actually follow the shooters around and get license plate numbers of cars whose owners have the expensive guns.”
    â€œThey’re targets, all right.”
    â€œWhy would somebody pay five figures for a gun?” she wondered out loud.
    He laughed. “You don’t shoot in competition, so it’s no use trying to explain it to you.”
    â€œYou compete,” she pointed out. “You don’t have a gun that expensive and you’re a triple-A shooter.”
    He shrugged. “It isn’t that I wouldn’t like to have one. But unless I take up bank robbing, I’m not likely to be able to afford one, either. The best I can do is borrow one for the big competitions.”
    Her eyes popped. “You know somebody who’ll loan you a fifty-thousand-dollar shotgun?”
    He laughed. “Well, actually, yes, I do. He’s police chief of a small town down in Texas. He used to do shotgun competitions when he was younger, and he still has the hardware.”
    â€œAnd he loans you the gun.”
    â€œHe isn’t attached to it, like some owners are. Although, you’d never get him to loan his sniper kit,” he chuckled.
    â€œExcuse me?”
    He leaned toward her. “He was a covert assassin in his shady past.”
    â€œReally?” She was excited by the news.
    He frowned. “What do women find so fascinating about men who shoot people?”
    She blinked. “It’s not that.”
    â€œThen what is it?”
    She hesitated, trying to put it into words. “Men who have been in battles have tested themselves in a way most people never have to,” she began slowly. “They learn their own natures. They…I can’t exactly express it…”
    â€œThey learn what they’re