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who could barely manage to meet her eyes. It was all she could do not to laugh. How could Max possibly be taken in by such a performance?

      However, it seemed he was. “Maybe we should talk. My name’s Horvath. My place borders Diamond Downs to the northwest.”

      “That would be good, Mr. Horvath. Judy’s letting me sleep at the bunkhouse tonight, so I’m not far away. “

      “Come and see me tomorrow at nine. Judy can give you the directions.”

      With that, Max dismissed Ryan as no more than a lackey who might be useful to him, and turned his full attention to Judy. “What’s happening with Des now?”

      “They’re keeping him in the hospital overnight as a precaution, then releasing him tomorrow. He’ll be staying with Blake for a while.”

      Max nodded. “If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

      Start by tearing up the mortgage over Diamond Downs as Clive had intended to do, she wanted to scream at him, but she kept silent. Max was a different character from his father, who’d been one of the most generous people in the district. Clive would never have taken advantage of Des the way Max was doing.

      “There’s nothing,” she said, meaning it.

      “Then let me buy you a drink at the pub before you head home.”

      She let her shoulders drop. “Can I take a rain check? I’ve had a rough night.”

      “Sure. I should have thought of that myself. Why don’t I look in on you tomorrow morning? Smith and I can talk then, if it’s okay with you?”

      Inviting Max home was the last thing she felt like doing, but knowing what Ryan was up to, she gave a weary nod. “You can use the office.” When they attacked Cade and stole the file, Max’s men had already taken what he wanted from there anyway.

      She tensed as Max leaned over and kissed her on the mouth. His drink at the pub wouldn’t be the first of the night, judging by his whiskey breath. She restrained a shudder as his cheek rasped against hers. “Good night, Max.”

      “See you tomorrow, then. You, too, Smith.”

      Ryan reached to tip an imaginary hat. “Good night, Mr. Horvath.”

      “Snake,” she muttered as the other man walked back to his vehicle.

      “Me or lover boy?” Ryan asked, coming around to open the door for her.

      “You decide.” She was capable of opening her own door, but allowed the gesture in case Max was still observing them. Or so she told herself.

      “What was that all about?” she asked when they were on the road at last.

      “I’ve seen him before,” Ryan said.

      In the darkened car her startled gaze went to him. “I thought you’d never met Max.”

      “He was involved in the insurance scam that got me into the P.I. business. We were sure he was part of the money-laundering end in Perth, but there wasn’t enough evidence to lay charges against him. He went by an alias for that deal, so the name Horvath didn’t mean anything to me.”

      “Why am I not surprised? You’re lucky he didn’t recognize you.”

      Ryan’s fingers drummed a tattoo on the wheel. “People like him are users. To them, the likes of me are dirt under their feet. They don’t even see us most of the time. We were never introduced, so he would only have seen me from a distance, and he was away when I lived around here. He took me completely at face value.”

      She would have done the same, she thought, still amazed that he could transform himself so effectively. No wonder he was good at undercover work. Uneasily she wondered how she would know when he was sincere about anything, then dismissed the thought. They weren’t going to get involved, so why did it matter? “Did you notice how he reacted when you said you weren’t fussy what you do?”

      He nodded. “Exactly why I said it. I wanted to sound desperate enough that he’d think of me as a potential replacement for Eddy Gilgai.”

      Fear gripped her anew. “Most of the work Eddy did was probably shady.” And had cost him his life, she couldn’t help thinking.

      “So Max needs someone with the same low morality to fill Gilgai’s shoes. Don’t be surprised if Ryan Smith acquires a police record by tomorrow.”

      “You’re good at this,” she said, not sure she meant it as a compliment.

      “I’m good at a lot of things. I’m also very, very persistent,” he added, his tone redolent with meaning.

      “You will take care, won’t you?”

      “Worried about me, sweetie?” There was laughter in his voice as he mimicked Max, lacing the endearment with a heavy dose of saccharine.

      “Only if you keep calling me that. I think I liked you better when you were acting tame and meek.”

      They cleared the town limits and twin beams of light leaped ahead of them as he switched the headlights to high beam. A red kangaroo trampolined across their path, disappearing into the well of darkness beyond the road. “You’d never be happy with tame and meek.”

      She felt as jumpy as the kangaroo. “How do you know what I’d be happy with?” Particularly when she didn’t know herself.

      “I know you better than you want me to. We’re two of a kind.”

      Cleansing anger washed away some of her diffidence. “Is that supposed to be flattering?”

      “It’s simply fact.”

      “I take back what I said. You’re definitely not meek or tame. You’re bossy and pigheaded.”

      He gave a low laugh. “As I said, two of a kind.”

      He’d achieved one thing. No longer drained and tired, she felt charged with energy and a desire to lash out at something—or someone. She simmered for the rest of the drive home, only remembering that she’d agreed to share the bottle of wine with him when they pulled up outside the old cottage.

      She stayed where she was. “I’ve changed my mind. I’d rather go home.”

      He got out. “Suit yourself. I won’t be long.”

      Watching him go inside, she was sorely tempted to slide across and drive herself back to the homestead. But she was too well schooled in outback courtesy. If anything went wrong, he would be stranded here. She couldn’t do it.

      “One drink, nothing else,” she muttered to herself and followed him inside.

      He was already levering the cork out of the chilled Chablis with an old-fashioned opener. “Don’t jackeroos just knock the top off the bottle?” she asked.

      “Waste of good wine.” He poured some into glasses. Two glasses, she noted. He’d been very sure she’d decide to join him.

      Accepting the drink he offered, she was annoyed to find that her hand was less than steady. She raised the glass to her mouth, pleased when she didn’t spill any. The icy liquid was refreshing as she waited for the alcohol to counteract the nervous strain of a hellish night.

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