Read Twice A Target (Task Force Eagle) for Free Online Page B

description,
but did he?
    “Staying there? Living in the house?”
    “Down the hall from the baby’s room.” Better not to
mention she was in the master bedroom. “Like a nanny.”
    “A nanny.” Patterson seemed to turn the idea over in
his mind. “The McCoy girl?” He uttered a terse farewell and hustled toward the
bank.
    For sure the man was on his way to phone his wife
about the latest development. Whatever they cooked up together after that
wouldn’t be good for him. Or Bobby.
    He turned to the office he’d parked beside—Turner and
Hawke, Attorneys at Law. Last night Holt had phoned Chris Hawke, a cousin of
Espie’s, about handling the custody case. Patterson probably figured out what
Holt was doing there too.
    Hell of a thing. The Pattersons’ challenge of Bobby’s
guardianship was going to cost him money he needed for the baby and money he
needed for the ranch. He—or Chris—had to find some way to avert the custody
suit.
    Inside the building, Chris Hawke greeted him in his
office, a book-lined space with diplomas and certificates on the walls. The two
of them played football together for Rock County High and started law school in
tandem.
    “It was supposed to be Donovan and Hawke on a shingle
in Denver, remember?” Holt said.
    “Funny how things work out different.” Chris shook his
hand and waved him to a chair. “If your dad had lived, do you think we’d have
made it as a team?”
    “Hard to say.” Losing their dad to a massive heart attack
Holt’s second year in law school had torn his and Rob’s world apart, but they’d
rebuilt. He could do it again. “At the time, I thought Rangewood was a hell of
a bore, but after chasing drug dealers and other dregs in big cities, it seems
like heaven. What about you? Why did you set up shop with Agatha Turner?”
    “Seems minority hiring was full up in the big city.
Not one law firm wanted a newly graduated Native American attorney.” Chris’s
laugh was ironic but not bitter as he smoothed his thong-tied ponytail over his
shirt collar.
    “Boot-licking in a big firm doesn’t sound like you.”
Holt nodded toward the Anasazi-bead amulet that hung to the middle of the other
man’s Western dress shirt. “Cut your hair and wear a tie? I can’t feature it.”
    “Yup. Not my style. First time some suit gave me a
hard time, I might’ve decked him and been outta there fast. Agatha’s a tough
old bird, but she trusts me. Lets me help out my people if they need it.”
    “Good catching up, and we should do more of it,” Holt
said, “but now I need your help.”
    “The Pattersons,” Hawke said, opening the folder on
his desk. “This is going to be hard on you. I hope we can make it easy on your
little nephew.”
    Holt’s gut clenched. “Do Bobby’s grandparents have a
viable case?”
    “Maybe. Maybe not.”
    “Lawyer-ese for what, Chris? Give it to me straight.
I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Bobby. He’s a Donovan and he’ll be raised on
the Donovan ranch.”
    “The Pattersons are alleging you’re an unfit guardian
for an infant on the grounds you can’t provide adequate care.”
    Holt saw a sliver of light. “Adequate meaning money or
nurturing, like love and attention and feeding?”
    “Could be both, depending on what their attorney
pushes. Vague for now. They have Ingrid Kline of Tobias and Kline in Colorado
Springs. A reputable firm, have done a lot of custody cases. I’ve never seen
Kline in action but hear she’s clever.”
    “Things could be worse.” Holt considered his options,
but had only one, and a temporary one at that. “Bobby has a nanny. Trial basis
for now. Then we’ll see.”
    Chris Hawke smiled and made a note. “Tell me about the
nanny.”
    A half hour later Holt practically ran from the law
offices, his stress level shooting up like a thermometer in July. He’d been
thanking God Maddy agreed to stay until he heard Chris’s assessment of the
situation. The court would be looking for stability, not