Rage Factor Read Online Free PDF

harsh as his words.
    Dixie knew he was merely frustrated with not being able to take away her pain or clobber Lawrence Coombs for causing it, but apparently Mud wasn’t as certain. He nosed protectively between them, teeth sharp and gleaming, his sleek back as high as Dixie’s waist.
    Parker scowled at the dog.
    “Ease up, Mud. I didn’t break her damn foot.” When Mud stood his ground, Parker sighed. “I’ll make an omelet.”
    Parker’s omelets were like golden slices of heaven.
    “Sounds terrific.” Dixie’s mouth watered at the mere mention of it.
    She scratched Mud’s ears and hobbled to the breakfast nook, a padded booth Barney had built the year after Dixie became part of the family. She still preferred eating most meals there, instead of the long dining table with its eight side chairs. But managing her splinted left foot while sliding onto the blue leather seat she usually chose proved daunting, especially when she was hungry, tired, and irritable. She switched to the opposite side, Amy’s side in the old days, Parker’s in the past few weeks.
    Grateful to be off the crutches, she stroked Mud’s neck as she watched Parker move with lazy efficiency between the refrigerator and stove. Maybe cooking would warm up his chilly attitude. A big man, with powerful, densely muscled shoulders, he should look klutzy in Kathleen’s gingham-curtained kitchen. But he chopped, sliced, and sautéed as gracefully as a master chef—which continuously amazed Dixie, since she could scarcely scramble eggs without turning them rubbery. His face and arms had bronzed up on his new boat-selling job at Clear Lake. A fresh haircut had squared off the dark fringe around his collar, leaving the wavy locks thick on the top and sides, as unruly as a small boy’s except when freshly combed. As she watched him work, a tender passion curled up to nestle around Dixie’s heart.
    Three weeks ago, Parker Dann had been a name in a file, a mug shot, a bounty job she’d tried to turn down because it interfered with her Christmas holidays. Most of the days since then had been spent with the two of them under the same roof, six days with Parker as her prisoner while she investigated a vehicular manslaughter charge against him. Only after proving his innocence had she allowed herself to respond to the emotions he stirred.
    Now, his former neighborhood no longer appealing and his new house under construction eighty miles away on Galveston Island, he usually stayed at her place. They were exploring the boundaries of a relationship. Like chunky fruit Jell-O, it didn’t fit smoothly into a mold. For Dixie’s part, shealready knew she wanted him in her life until long after his dark hair turned white and his rakishly handsome face leathered with time lines. But neither of them had a good history for long-lasting male-female relationships. Parker Dann was a drifter; any day he might drift right out of her life. She was afraid to care
too
much.
    The tempting aroma of onions, mushrooms, and sausage wafted from the stove. Moments later, Parker set a warm plate in front of her, omelet perfectly browned, folded, and accompanied by a slice of melon, another plate for himself, and a tall glass of milk for each of them. She didn’t have to look to know Mud would be scarfing up similar fare.
    “Milk?” she asked. They usually had wine with dinner.
    “Drink it. It’ll help that bone to mend.” He sat across from her and tucked into his meal without meeting her gaze. Grouchy.
    “Parker, if I agree to discuss the missing kids thing with Carl, will you stop with the silent treatment?”
    “What silent treatment?”
    “Okay. Maybe ‘silence’ is not precisely descriptive. How about, ‘silence salted with terse orders’?”
    His blue eyes tilted up at her from under his dark, shaggy eyebrows.
    “I just don’t see where Carl’s idea is so wrong. How can chasing bail jumpers be more rewarding than finding missing kids?”
    “I never said it was