No Limits Read Online Free PDF

the sheriff ’s office would even give her the time of day. She’d always wondered if there wasn’t more lie than truth to the rumor of southern hospitality.
    What in the hell was Lisa doing living here?
    There wasn’t a damn thing about this place Micky found welcoming. Red’s itself was a dump. She’d been afraid she was going to fall through the porch boards or catch her heel in the gaps where they failed to meet. All she could hope for now was a quick Q&A with the man in the corner, the A part sending her on her way.
    She took him in, finding his return scrutiny offensive, as if he were hoping to scare her away before she took a single step in his direction. And then she smiled to herself. It was time the man met the force that was Michelina Ferrer.
    She dug into her hobo bag to settle her bill, the long strap across her body keeping the bag close. King waved her off. “It’s on me.”
    She nodded her thanks, assuming that meant the bar owner would absorb the cost of the freshly brewed pot because King didn’t strike her as the generous type, but she could hardly add that to her list of worries. Between Papi, her reputation, the family business, and now her best friend, she was all out of list-making ink. The band was on break, so there was no fiddle or accordion or slide of boots on the worn wooden floor to cover the click of her heels on the planks. She might as well have cha-cha-chaed her way to the man’s booth and taken a bow. Every eye in the place was already boring holes into the back of her head—at least those that weren’t focused on her tits or her ass.
    Instead of acknowledging the stares, she kept her head up and her chin high, her eyes straight ahead. The man she wanted to see never looked away. But his gaze consumed her in a way that was different.
    He was curious, yes, but he was also judgmental, pinning her against a felt backdrop and examining each and every one of her bones, her hair follicles, her teeth, and her pores. That look exposed her in ways being naked never could, yet still she walked toward him.
    He was a big man, over sixty, she was certain. That much she determined by looking at his skin. His hair was gray and thinning, though she’d seen worse, and what had once been hard muscle was now not, his bulk soft, loose on his frame. She didn’t wait for an invitation but slid into the bench opposite his. “My name is Michelina Ferrer. Mr. Trahan at the bar tells me that you are Lisa Weston’s—Lisa Landry’s—father-in-law. She and I went to school together, and she told me if I ever made it down this way…”
    Micky heard herself rambling and stopped. She supposed she should have considered where she was, whose company she was in, and whose help she wanted before jumping in with both feet. Jumping might not be the way things were done here in the swamps, but she was who she was.
    And no matter how many people would be thrilled to death to see her change—Papi and Greta to name two—she didn’t see it happening. Making herself miserable in order to make others happy was no way to live.
    She thought about starting over, offering the man across from her a more thorough introduction and detailed explanation of who she was and why she was here, approaching him as someone needing his help, not someone demanding answers. But he held up a very large hand before she said another word.
    “Welcome to Bayou Allain, Miss Ferrer. Any friend of dear Lisa’s is someone we are very happy to have stop by. I am, as King told you, Terril ’s father.” He offered that same hand across the table. “Judge Terrill Landry. Known to my friends here as Bear.”
    Micky shook his hand. “My pleasure, Judge Landry. Your Honor.”
    “It’s Bear,” he said, covering their joined hands with his other, lingering a bit too long for her comfort while continuing to take her measure.
    She took his as wel l . She could tell he was the sort of man who would respect her straightforward nature more than