Free Bad Girl Bill (Atlantic Divide) by Diane Saxon

determined, as all hell broke loose.
    Cody flung himself toward the shotgun at the same time Jack yelled a warning from behind her to get out of his way. Cody was beyond reason and as he snatched up his shotgun, Bill launched herself bodily at him, threw her arms around his upper thighs, and brought him crashing to the ground. The gun skidded across the floor, and the pair of them thrashed around as Bill tried to get a purchase on Cody’s obese, sweaty body.
    She clambered her way up his fat belly, threw back her right arm, put her weight and temper behind it, and smacked him hard with the heel of one hand while she punched him once in the stomach with the other. As the breath rushed out of his lungs, she flipped him over onto his face, yanked his arm hard up his back, and straddled him. She dropped her weight down on top of him, and she heard his groan of defeat as he finally stopped struggling.
    “Handcuffs! Jack, goddammit give me your handcuffs! I lost mine.” Breathless, she pulled Cody’s other arm behind his back, wrenched it up, and took the handcuffs Jack offered to her.
    “Thanks for your help, partner,” she spat out. Jack just leaned back against the doorway where he’d been most the time, gun still in hand, smiling placidly.
    “Well, the way I figured it, I was just going to shoot the bastard, but you leaped into my line of fire. I was waiting for a clean shot.” He drawled as he slid his gun back into its holster.
    Staggering to her feet, she hauled Cody to his. Her tongue felt thick and fat as she read him his rights. Turning, she squinted blindly at Jack as a gush of hot, tannic blood filled her mouth and spilled from her lips.
    Jack turned ashen and sucked in his breath.
    “Fucking hell, Bill, you need an ambulance.”
    * * * *
    Michael relaxed on the porch swing with a cup of coffee in his hand, and a dog on each side of his legs. He watched with some amusement as Mac’s black Ferrari jolted along the rutted track into the yard, scraping the low-slung undercarriage.
    He knew Mac liked him, but he also knew the man considered him trouble for his little sister. So he guessed he’d turned up to make sure they weren’t left alone together. It had been a long few days of manipulation and maneuvering between Mac and his brothers to ensure they were kept apart, but it seemed, Michael thought with a grin, he was starting to make it difficult for them. It was a bit like a game of chess. It amused him to watch their scheming. They had no idea what a master schemer he was.
    It seemed their line of communication had let them down this time, and Mac must have believed it was Bill’s day off too.
    Mac unfolded his long legs and pushed his huge frame out of the Ferrari, almost getting his shoulders stuck in the doorway. Michael laughed.
    “You know you’re too big for that don’t you?”
    “Sure.” Mac pushed his long, black hair back from his face and flicked his plait back over his shoulder. “But I look fantastic in it.”
    “No, you look too big for it.”
    Michael could see how Mac had become a legendary movie star; his ego was enormous, but he was still intelligent enough to be self-deprecating. He laughed as he sat on the swing making it creak and groan.
    “It’s only rented. It goes back at the end of the week. I think my hair is starting to thin where it keeps rubbing against the roof.” They sat in silence for a moment.
    “Where’s Bill?”
    “I’m surprised you don’t know. You had a wasted journey. Bill’s out with Jack picking up some guy who shot up a store yesterday.”
    Mac leaned forward. The seat grumbled loudly. He stood, gave it a disgusted look, and moved toward the house.
    “More coffee?”
    “That’d be good.”
    They sat in Bill’s kitchen, drank her coffee, and Mac explained why he needed to bulk up for his next acting job on location in England. Michael wasn’t surprised to hear female eyes would be firmly fixed on Mac’s broad, waxed, oil-slicked chest. Sounded