Westin Legacy. Alice Sharpe
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“I don’t want you here, Echo,” he said, trying sincerity. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I know you don’t. But you’re injured and someone needs to cover your back.”
“And that someone is you,” he said, and the tone of his voice let her know what he thought of that idea.
“I’m better than nothing,” she said, and then added, “Don’t say I’m not. You know it’s true. If these men are as horrible as you say they are, two people are better than one.”
“Not when one of them is a pretty woman,” he said, “which is why I’m asking you for the last time to turn the truck around and drive to the airport.”
She spared him another glance “I’m relieved to hear you say this is the last time you’re asking. It’s getting monotonous. Listen, Adam, I promise I’ll go meekly away after this little visit. You’ll never have to even think of me again.”
He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again without uttering a word. What was the point? He knew he’d never stop thinking about her.
Westin Legacy
Alice Sharpe
MILLS & BOON
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This book is dedicated with love and appreciation to my husband, Arnold, brainstormer superb!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alice Sharpe met her husband-to-be on a cold, foggy beach in Northern California. One year later they were married. Their union has survived the rearing of two children, a handful of earthquakes registering over 6.5, numerous cats and a few special dogs, the latest of which is a yellow Lab named Annie Rose. Alice and her husband now live in a small rural town in Oregon, where she devotes the majority of her time to pursuing her second love, writing.
Alice loves to hear from readers. You can write her at P.O. Box 755, Brownsville, OR 97327. An SASE for reply is appreciated.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Adam Westin —It’s up to him to stop the looting of the prehistoric burial cave located on Open Sky land before an explosive threat from the past destroys everything—and everyone—he loves.
Echo De Gris —She spent her first years of life on the Open Sky. She’s back now, but just for a visit. Becoming reacquainted with her childhood nemesis makes her wonder if she’ll ever want to leave. A killer makes her wonder if she’ll live long enough to get away.
Cody Westin —He’s determined not to make the same mistake his father made. He wants his wife back—is he too late?
Brice Westin —Is it true he doesn’t know where Adam’s mother disappeared to all those years ago, or is it possible he’s known all along and will now do anything to protect that secret?
Lonnie Nielsen —He’s in for a heap of trouble. Or is he causing it?
Del Halverson —One of Brice’s oldest friends. What exactly did he do when he left Wyoming? And is he doing it again?
J.D. Oakes —Another old pal with a hazy past. Is it finally catching up with him?
Pete Westin —Echo’s stepfather. Is it a coincidence that he left the Open Sky after Adam’s mother’s disappearance, and returned the day the violence escalated?
David Lassiter —The cowpoke who ran off with Adam’s mother. Or did he?
Willet Garvey —He’s no fan of the Westins. How far will hatred and greed take him?
Hank Garvey —Willet’s son, Hank is determined to exact revenge at any cost.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Prologue
As Lonnie fumbled the key in the lock, he glanced over his shoulder and scanned the faces of his buddies.
“Remember, you guys,” he said, not too surprised to detect a slur in his voice. Damn hooch sure snuck up on a man. “This is top secret. You gotta…gotta promise you won’t tell anyone about this. Especially not Janine.”
The other two men nodded solemnly.
The key finally clicked and he pushed in the door. He didn’t want to turn on the light until he’d secured the room again. Never knew when Janine might take it into her head to come on down to the basement and make sure he wasn’t gambling her trust fund away on a busted flush. He urged his friends forward into the heavy shadows. “Don’t touch nothing,” he warned.
Once they were all crammed inside, he closed the door, slid the dead bolt, switched on the light and waited for a chorus of gratifying gasps.
“What’s all this junk?”
The corners of Lonnie’s mouth drooped. “What do you mean, what is it? It’s artifacts.”
“Your ‘private stash’ is bunch of old broken pots?” one man scoffed. Now Lonnie was getting mad. After all these years he had finally decided to share his collection and this was what he got? He pointed at a square-looking figure in a glass case. “That there, that’s a rare Central American Human Effigy. Worth almost five thousand bucks.” He pointed at another case. “And that canteen is Southwest Anasazi. I paid three thousand for it. The case over there is full of Mississippian Indian relics. Any museum would love to have just one of these things.”
“Where’d you get ’em?”
This came from his best friend of the group, who was eyeing Lonnie as though he was some kind of traitor.
“Here