Blackfoot Affair Read Online Free PDF Page B

shot at sunrise,” Marisa replied wearily, stretching out on her bed.
    “Are they going to blame you for Bluewolf’s injury?” Tracy asked quietly.
    “What does it matter? I blame myself.”
    “Why? Legally, you made the right decision. If Brady wasn’t going to risk angering Lasky you had every right to resist doing so yourself. Any attorney would have done the same.”
    “I didn’t make the decision for legal reasons only,” Marisa said, closing her eyes.
    Tracy sat at the foot of the bed, waiting.
    “I said I did, I even convinced myself that I did, but if I’m brutally honest I have to admit there was another element involved.” Marisa opened her eyes.
    “Well?” Tracy said.
    “I’m attracted to Bluewolf, and he knows it. He was trying to use that to manipulate me into doing what he wanted.”
    “Oh, Marisa, are you sure?”
    Marisa put her arm across her forehead. “I haven’t been with him that much, but the chemistry was vividly, definitely there. I’m sure he’s accustomed to having that effect on women and I didn’t want to be just another bimbo he dazzled and then controlled.”
    “Even so, you made the right move for your client,” Tracy said stubbornly. “And I’m sure you would have made the right move for your client anyway, you’re too professional to do anything else.”  
    Marisa smiled wanly. “Thanks, Tracy. I can use the vote of confidence right about now.”
    “And that Randall Block’s a jerk, isn’t he?” Tracy inquired sympathetically.
    Marisa laughed. “Well, he’s a bureaucrat, forgive the pun. He goes back to Washington in the morning, thank God, and I hope he stays there.” She sat up. “What do you say we hit that Italian restaurant on Evans Boulevard tonight? I could use a break from all this angst, and Charlie’s picking up the tab.”
    “You’re on.” Tracy rose and they headed for the door.
    * * *
    It was two more days before Marisa got in to see Jackson Bluewolf. His sister finally took pity on her— or got tired of seeing Marisa sitting in the visitors’ lounge—and led her into Jack’s room with a murmured, “I will probably regret this.”  
    Jack looked up as Ana said brightly, “Someone here to see you.” She vanished immediately as Marisa stepped into the doorway.
    Jack was propped against a pile of snowy pillows, his dusky skin a pleasant contrast with the stark white linens. The stands for intravenous fluids were still next to his bed but the tubes had been disconnected. He was stripped to the waist, his left shoulder swathed in bandages. Marisa was relieved to see that he was looking far from frail; in fact, he appeared rather remarkably hale and strong for a recent gunshot victim. And it was clear that he was angry. Very angry.
    “What are you doing here?” he demanded furiously.
    “I... I…” Now that she had finally made it into his presence, Marisa seemed to have nothing to say.
    “I will have a few choice words to say to my sister for bringing you in here. Did you cast a spell on her?” he said.
    “I just told her I wanted to see for myself that you were all right,” Marisa replied.
    “Well, you’ve seen me. I’m alive. You can go.” He looked away from her pointedly.
    “Is there anything I can do?” she said helplessly.
    “Don’t you think you’ve done enough already?” he countered.
    “You know I never wanted this,” Marisa said quietly, gesturing toward the bed.
    “You wouldn’t listen to me!” he snapped, stabbing a forefinger in her direction. “If you had this never would have happened!”
    “How nice for you that you know everything,” Marisa said sarcastically, losing patience with his attitude.
    “How nice of you to apologize!” he countered. “You can’t even admit that you were wrong. God, I’ve heard of stubborn, but you are the living, breathing limit.”
    “Oh, come on, there was more to it than that and you know it!” Marisa replied with equal heat.
    “What do you mean?” he said,