Birthright

door before . . .”
    He trailed off when he saw her car. “Well, shit.” Though he was still barefoot, and wearing only jeans, he walked outto take a closer look. “You figure Austin and Jimmy, or their ilk?”
    “I figure I’m going to find out.” She shoved him back, wrenched open the driver’s-side door.
    “Hold on. Hold it.” He knew that look in her eye, and it screamed bloody murder. “Give me two minutes and I’ll go with you.”
    “I don’t need backup when it comes to a couple of redneck fuckwits.”
    “Just wait.” To be sure she did, he wrestled the keys out of her hand, then strode back into his room for a shirt and shoes.
    Thirty seconds later, he was cursing, rushing back out again, just in time to see her drive off. He’d forgotten she always kept spare keys in her glove box.
    “Son of a bitch. Son of a goddamn bitch.”
    She didn’t look back. Her mind was focused on what lay ahead. She’d had the Rover for six years. It was part of her team. Every ding and scratch was a memory. Was a goddamn badge of honor. And nobody defiled what was hers.
    Minutes later, she squealed to a stop in front of Dolan’s Main Street office. Breathing fire, she leaped out, then barely resisted kicking the door down when she found it locked. She hammered on it with her fist instead.
    A pleasant-looking woman unlocked the office door from the inside. “I’m sorry. We’re not open for another fifteen minutes.”
    “Dolan. Ronald Dolan.”
    “Mr. Dolan’s on a job site this morning. Do you want an appointment?”
    “What job site?”
    “Ah, the one up on Turkey Neck Road.”
    Callie showed her teeth. “Point me in the direction.”
    It took her twenty minutes, backtracking on one of the windy country roads when she missed the turn. None of the sleepy charm of the morning, the gilded light sprinkling through trees, the silly herald of a rooster could breach her rage.
    The longer it stewed, the more potent it became. Andshe had only to shift her gaze from the road to the hood to have it spiking again.
    Someone, she promised herself, was going to pay. At the moment, she wasn’t particular who, or how.
    She swung onto a private lane, over a pretty little bridge that spread over the creek, then nearly straight up the cut through the wooded plot.
    She could hear the sounds of construction. The hammers, the saws, the music from a radio. Part of her brain registered that whatever else he was or did, Dolan apparently built well.
    The skeleton of the house showed potential, and it fit well with the rocky terrain, the picturesque woods. The usual construction debris was scattered into piles, heaped into an enormous Dumpster.
    Pickups and other four-wheelers were parked willy-nilly in the mud the night’s rain had brewed. And several large men, already sweaty, were at work.
    She spotted Dolan, his work pants still pristine, his shirt rolled up at the elbows and a blue Dolan Construction fielder-style hat perched on his head as he stood with his hands on his hips, surveying the progress.
    Once again she slammed the door, and the bullet shot of it blasted through the music and noise. Dolan glanced over, then shifted his view and his body as Callie strode toward the house, boosted herself easily onto the decking.
    “Austin and Jimmy,” she snapped out. “The dickhead twins. Where are they?”
    He shifted his weight, scanned the paint splattered over her car. A small, resentful part of his heart did handsprings. “You got a problem with any of my men, you got a problem with me.”
    “Fine.” It suited her down to the ground. “You see that?” she demanded and pointed toward her Rover. “I’m holding you responsible.”
    He could feel his men watching, and hooked his thumbs under his suspenders. “You saying I painted that graffiti all over your car?”
    “I’m saying whoever did works for you. Whoever didlistened to you and your asinine viewpoints about what my team’s doing at Antietam Creek.”
    “I don’t know anything about it. Looks like kids to me. And as far as what you’re doing at Antietam Creek, don’t expect to be doing it much longer.”
    “You got a couple of mental giants named Austin and Jimmy on your payroll, Dolan. And this looks like them to me.”
    Something moved in his eyes. And he made a very big mistake. He smirked. “I’ve got a lot of people on my payroll.”
    “You think this is amusing?” She lost what tenuous hold she had on her temper and gave him a light