B00CZBQ63C EBOK Read Online Free Page A

much time thinking about today not only associated with bootleggers, but also bought alcohol at the drugstore. Daniel frowned. “I’ll slip it in a bag for you.”

    Laurie snatched the package from Mr. Shepherd’s hand, her eyes stinging.
    Mr. Shepherd leaned across the counter and lowered his voice. “I’m glad to see you got home all right.”
    Laurie drew in a quick breath. “I can take care of myself.”
    “I see that.”
    Her heart thudded in her chest. He already knew about Johnny—now he knew about her father, too.
    “Tell Johnny I said hello.”
    Mr. Shepherd’s gray eyes reminded Laurie of darkening storm clouds just before a lightning strike. She could still hear his words from last night: I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.
    Mr. Larson was such a sweet old man. Didn’t he realize his grandson was a scheming rumrunner and gangster?
    As she stared into the handsome face masking the heart of a scoundrel, Laurie straightened her shoulders. If Daniel Shepherd believed she would be easily intimidated, he was dead wrong. She’d lived with her father long enough to learn a thing or two. She set the bag down, placed both palms against the counter and leaned forward. “Does your grandfather know what you are?”
    The color washed from his face. “What do you mean?”
    It was too late to play innocent. She recognized a crook when she saw one, and she wasn’t going to let him bully her into submission. “You know exactly what I’m talking about, you and your midnight deliveries.”
    His brow furrowed, which only made his gray eyes more startling.
    Laurie snatched the bag and turned away, stashing the bottle under her coat.

Chapter 3

    T he bacon hissed and bubbled, its rich scent wafting up into Laurie’s face as she leaned over the stove. She turned it carefully with a fork, pulling back just as a splatter of grease popped free of the pan. A golden stack of pancakes waited in the oven.
    Laurie swept her drawing papers into a neat stack at the end of the kitchen table, out of the reach of accidental spills and smears. Her mouth dried as she stared at the top sketch. The unsettling image had demanded to be recorded, not releasing her until she’d put pencil to paper. A shadowy stranger in the foreground gazed out over the windswept bluff and down to the straits, where two boats floated on the waves.
    Heavy footsteps clomped on the back porch. Laurie dropped the paper on top of the sketchbook, scurrying back to the stove.
    The back door window framed her father’s weary face, bushy brows squeezed together and low over his granite-colored eyes. Her heart skipped as he wrestled with the knob.
    She sped across the shabby yellow floor and yanked the door open.
    Father’s hunched shoulders straightened as he stepped over the threshold. “Why did you lock the door, girl? You knew I was on my way home.”
    Laurie bit her lip. The door hadn’t been locked, but she knew better than to say so. “Dinner’s ready. You hungry?”
    He grunted. “I’m so hungry that I could eat the plate and silverware along with whatever’s on them.” He sucked in a deep whiff through his nose. “Is that bacon?”
    Laurie nodded. “And coffee, too.”
    He set his tin lunch bucket down on the counter with a clatter and sank down in the kitchen chair. He lifted a cup. “Fill ’er up.”
    Laurie relaxed. The one thing that could get her father in decent spirits was dinner—especially if she served breakfast foods. He could be in the foulest of moods and a geyser of complaints, but he rarely grumbled about hot food. Assuming she had it ready when he walked in the door, she could count on him being good-tempered—at least as long as the food lasted.
    She tipped the coffeepot, sending a stream of the dark brown liquid into his cup. “How was your day?”
    He pulled the cup to his lips and blew gently across the surface of the earthy-smelling brew. A grunt followed. “Don’t ask.” His grizzled brows pulled low over his