Sacrifice of Passion (Deadly Legends) Read Online Free PDF Page A

at Alan’s words. Of course he already knew. Alan had come on board at the ranch when he’d been twenty and she’d been sixteen. He’d become like a son to her parents—the son they’d always wanted. Dutiful, her father had said. Obsequious, she’d thought.
    Her father shook his head at Alan, then leaned against the table and looked at Delaney. “She showed up the other morning, spouting nonsense. I didn’t hear it myself, but Pastor Locke here, he says she talked about you.”
    The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and her spine stiffened. “Me?” She turned to the pastor.
    Pastor Locke nodded. “She was talking to Vargas, but I overheard. She told him you were here, in San Julio, and mentioned you by name. Then she said she was sorry.”
    The air in the room grew heavy. Stifling. “Sorry about what?” Delaney asked in a harsh whisper. And why was the curandera talking to Vic about her?
    Her father squirmed in his chair. “The woman barely speaks English. Who knows what the devil she was talking about.”
    “She’s a witch, I tell you.” Her mother wrung the dishtowel between her hands. “She’s crazy. You stay away from her, Del.”
    Four pairs of eyes watched her closely, drilling into her, throwing her off-balance. The chill that had swept up her spine deepened. How had Esperanza known she was back home?
    And why in the world had the curandera said she was sorry?

Chapter Four
    El Charro. The bar Vic owned with his brother and silent partner, Ray, was his home away from home. Only tonight he felt like he was outside himself, watching the action at the bar but not part of it. Mary Jane Majors, El Charro’s fulltime bartender, washed and put up tumblers. The small band played in the corner of the dining room past the half wall. Alan Maldano, always a permanent fixture once his work at the West’s ranch was done for the day, sat hunched over his draft beer. The place buzzed with a growing energy.
    But all Vic wanted was to be back home with his son.
    He checked the clock above the cutout door to the kitchen. Barely eight o’clock. The minute hand had hardly moved since the last time he’d checked. Time was creeping, the long night looming ahead of him.
    The bar darkened and thunder clapped. He glanced out the plate glass windows that still shook from the boom. The vast sky outside had turned gray, the clouds dense and low and stewing. Maybe the storm was finally going to break. He felt unsettled. A gnawing in the pit of his stomach.
    Screw this. He pulled out his cell phone and called Ray. “Everything okay?”
    “Eva and Zach are playing Battleship. He’s quiet, as usual. But he’s fine.”
    Relief washed over him. This fatherhood thing was a constant challenge. He still hadn’t figured out how to manage the perpetual worry about someone else’s wellbeing.
    “Storm’s threatening. Lightning—”
    “Don’t worry, Vic. I won’t send him outside with a hanger or an antenna.”
    He laughed at himself. Ray had practically raised Eva on his own, and now she was seventeen and thriving. His brother knew how to take care of a kid a hell of a lot better than he did. “Yeah, great. Thanks again for staying with him.”
    There was muttering on the other end of the line. Ray came back. “He wants to talk to you.”
    Vic felt his eyes widen. That was a first. “Put him on.”
    “Hi,” Zach said a second later.
    “Hey, buddy. How you doing?”
    “Fine.”
    Monosyllabic, as usual. “Great. What’s up?”
    “Sheila.”
    Vic felt his blood pressure spike. He still hadn’t gotten over the fact that Zach had named the potbelly after his mother. Sheila had to be cringing, even six feet under. “What about her, son?” God, it felt weird saying that word. But in a good way.
    “It’s going to rain.”
    “She’s fine,” Vic said, reading between the lines. “She’s in the barn, safe and sound.” Delaney asking Zach if the pig slept inside came to him. “Hey, buddy, how’d you like to