Butch tripped and fell on the way up the three steps leading to the back door, and that set a dog barking somewhere in the outbuildings. Max swore and looked at Butch in a threatening way. Pete was trying not to laugh and, at the same time, was looking a little pissed off himself at Butch. But it was really no use getting pissed off at Butch, any more than it would be worthwhile getting pissed off at a six-year-old kid. Butch looked a little ashamed of himself (as always when he'd done something stupid) and picked up the gun he'd dropped. He wiped it on the leg of the pants he'd taken off the body of the fat guy who had stopped to give Pete a ride.
Max tried the door just in case, but, of course, it was locked. Anyone living this far out in the boonies would have the sense to lock the doors at night. The dog stopped barking, and Max listened. There wasn't a sound from the house. He laid his shoulder against the door and pushed a little. It wasn't like a Greek Orthodox church, but it wasn't ready to buckle at a sneeze, either. Max beckoned to Butch, and the big gorilla leaned close to him.
"See if you can open it up without waking half the county, will you?" Butch nodded and put the gun in his pocket. A gun never looked very impressive in his hands. It always looked like a toy. He put one hand on the knob, completely obscuring it, and with the other he got as good a grip as he could on the door frame. He pushed on the door a few times, each time a little harder than the last. The door made a grating sound as metal rubbed against metal. The house was old and the wood was probably more than a little rotten.
Butch looked at Max and grinned and leaned down again and put a little of his back into it. The door went in a little further this time and stayed that way. Another shove and Butch forced the lock apart. There wasn't a chain, and if there was a latch the owner hadn't thrown it.
Inside it was like any old fashioned farm house. They walked from the service porch to the kitchen, and then into a hall that led the length of the place. There were two bedrooms to the right of the hill, and a dining room and a living room to the left. Between the service porch and the dining room was a single bathroom, and at the other end, clear across the front of the place, was a screened-in porch. There wasn't anyone in the place.
Naturally Butch started to turn on a light as soon as they had made sure no one was there. Max stopped him with an impatient gesture. "We keep the place dark," he said. "The owners will be coming back sometime tonight, and we want them to walk in without suspecting anything. Right?" Butch thought that one over for a moment.
"Oh, sure. Sure, I didn't think o' that, Max," he said apologetically.
They sat in the living room with their guns across their laps. Max made a search of the closets first and found a shotgun and a rifle in one of them. There was some ammunition, too, and he loaded the two weapons and gave the shotgun to Pete. Pete liked a shotgun. He had used one in all of his jobs.
While they were waiting, Max turned on an old-fashioned radio, and they listened to the bulletins about themselves. The bulletins would have been encouraging if they had been trustworthy. The trouble was, you could never believe them. The State Cops were cagier than that.
About one o'clock in the morning a car turned down the long, graveled drive that led from the highway. Pete sat up a little straighter with the pump action shotgun ready in his hands, and Max reached out with one foot and nudged Butch, who had been snoring softly for a half hour. He turned off the radio and hissed to Pete, "Go around to the back door, just in case they come in that way. If they see the busted door they may try to get out of here. Don't let 'em."
Pete nodded in the dimness and headed through the dining room to the bathroom. Butch looked at Max and smiled that crazy-kid smile of his that always give Max the creeps. He had his gun in his hand. Max motioned to a place beside the double doors leading from the living room to the screened-in porch. "Put the gun away," he ordered. "If they come in that way, you knock the man out of action, if there is a man. If there's a woman with him, and she starts to make noise, cool her too."
Butch grinned, put the.38 back in his pocket and walked over to the place beside the door. There was another door, a regular-sized one, leading into the hall from the porch, and Max decided to cover that one from the back bedroom. He cocked the hammer of the lever-action rifle and kept his finger light on the trigger. The dog started barking again just as the car pulled abreast of the house. It moved on to the back of the place, and Max heard the emergency brake rasp to a locked position. So they were probably coming in the back way. Max headed down the hall at a fast walk, motioning to Butch to stay where he was. He made it to the kitchen just as the doors were slamming on the car. A couple of people got out and started toward the back door. Max could see them through the window. It was very dark, but he could tell that the figures were a man and a woman. Voices reached him, too soft to be understood, but the voices sounded young. The woman laughed, a silvery sound he hadn't heard in three years. It made his bowels turn over and his cock stiffen.
The couple had closed the door after coming in, of course, as well as they could close it. They came up the stairs and the man started to fit a key into the lock, then stopped. Max could almost hear the puzzlement in his silence.
"That's funny." The words were incredibly clear at this distance.
The woman answered with a question. "What, darling?"
It was impossible to see them now because of the angle of the wall.
"Let's go back to the car," the man said, and there was a grimness in his voice. He was a sharp son of a bitch, Max thought. That would be something to remember. He moved toward the service porch as the thought took shape in his mind. He reached it just as Pete came out of the bathroom with the shotgun in his hands, and Max motioned him toward the door. Pete yanked it open with one hand and stuck the shotgun through and out into the night.
"All right, folks," he said, "just step right in."
Max was in the service porch now, and he could see the man, still standing on the stoop with his keys in his hand. He looked as though he was thinking of trying something with Pete, but then he saw Max and the rifle and apparently decided not to fuck around with two armed men. Max pointed the rifle in the direction of the woman. "You heard the man. Come in. Both of you."
The woman looked at her husband for a moment, and then they both came in. The woman was carrying some kind of a bundle, and it took Max a moment to realize that it was a child all wrapped up and asleep. Pete pointed the shotgun at the woman and baby, and Max put the rifle down against the wall and frisked the guy.
"We don't have any money," the man said.
"That's all right," Max told him. "We're not after money, friend. We just want some hospitality for a while."
"My God," the woman said suddenly. "Jim, they're the…" She broke off. Max smiled at her.
"That's right, sweety. We're the escaped convicts. You two hear about us on the car radio?" He waited for her to answer, but she just stood there in the darkness, and Max asked again, "Did you hear about us?"
"Yes," she said. "Yes, we heard."
"Well, then, you know we're nobody to fuck with." The language made her start a little, and the guy looked pissed off about it, but of course there wasn't anything he could do. Max switched on the light and looked at them. They were squinting in the sudden brightness.
The woman was a real looker. She was blonde and in her early twenties, Max guessed. She was about five-four, and she had a shape like a bathing suit model, with legs to match. Her face was something you could see on the cover of a magazine, and she wore her hair long, down around her face. She was more than pretty, he decided. She was a real beauty, and that would make things pleasant for however long it was necessary to stay in this Goddamn place.
The guy wouldn't make things so pleasant. He was a big son of a bitch, with a set to his jaw that made Max want to kill him right then. But he decided to wait. The bastard might be some good around the place. He looked like he was in his middle or late twenties.
"Come on in the house, folks," Max said. He picked up the rifle and backed into the kitchen, snapping on the light there too. The guy came on in, followed by the woman, still carrying the kid. Pete followed them with the shotgun trained on the woman's back. She looked like she was about to shit her pants she was so scared. The guy looked scared, too, but he was better at handling it. Max wondered whether he'd been in a tight squeeze of some sort before. He told himself again that this was someone to watch.
"YOU got any rope in this place?" Max asked.
"No."
Max came in fast and drove the butt of the rifle into the man's gut. The guy was hard as rock, and he only doubled. Most men would have gone down. He almost looked like he was going to come back at Max for a moment, but Max was already out of reach, and he had the rifle leveled at him again.
"Don't forget about the little woman, friend," he said. "If you try anything, Pete there won't swing the gun on you. He'll cut your family to pieces with the first shot, and then he'll worry about you. It's just good sense to eliminate as many as possible when a magilia starts."
The guy looked at Pete and glanced at his wife, who was crying by this time. The baby was still asleep, though it had stirred at bit at the noise when Max hit its old man. "Now I'm going to ask you again for some rope. I know you got some. No one keeps a farm with no rope."
The guy could hardly talk yet, and he looked like he was going to be a little stubborn. Max got ready to convince him some more, but the woman chimed in.
"There's some clothesline under the sink," she said.
Max got the line out. It was thin nylon rope, strong enough to hold a bull. He gave it to Pete, laying his rifle against the wall and taking the shotgun.
"Tie the hero up."
Pete yanked the guy's hands behind him and tied them together. He did a good job, of course. That was one thing about Pete. He always did a good job. The guy winced a little at the tightness of the ropes, and Max laughed.
"Cut off the circulation? Well, that's good. That way you won't be so tempted to try something." Pete got a knife out of one of the drawers and cut the rope and used another piece to tie the guy's ankles together. Then he started toward the woman. "Don't tie her up yet," Max said. "I have plans for her."
The guy twisted his head around so fast he almost fell down. "You touch my wife and I'll…"
"You'll stand there and watch," Max said. "Because that's all you can do. You're in no position to make threats, buddy." He walked up to the man and hooked the butt of the shotgun behind his feet. One little tug and the guy went down, landing hard on his ass and then bumping his head on the linoleum floor. The woman screamed, and the baby woke up and started to howl.
"Please," the woman said, "don't hurt him. Please."
"Well, I'll go easy on him just for you," Max said over the baby's crying. "Considering how much you and I are going to be to each other."
The woman's husband swore and pulled stupidly at the ropes on his wrists, and Pete laughed.
"Shut that little bastard up," Max said. "Or I'll shut him up for you." She started to rock the baby in her arms and croon little sounds to it, and after a moment the crying stopped. Then the woman looked up and almost screamed again. She had to bite her lip to cut it off. Max followed her gaze to the door and saw Butch standing there with a dumb grin on his face. "Don't worry, sweets," Max said. "He won't hurt you. Unless I let him off the leash. Then he'll probably eat that kid of yours between two pieces of bread."
"Don't talk like that to her," the guy said from the floor, where he was sitting up now. "We know you're in the driver's seat. You don't have to scare her to death."
"That's where you're wrong, Farmer Brown. I do have to scare her, because I don't want any trouble, and the more scared you two are the less likely you are to pull something stupid. As long as the two of you do as you're told and don't try something, we'll get along. But the first time either of you tries anything at all, no matter how little a try it is, I'm going to kill the kid first, and then the woman and then you. Now I hope you've got that straight."
He didn't answer. He just looked at Max for a moment, and then looked at the floor. "Get him in the living room," Max said to Butch. Butch bent over the guy and hauled him to his feet with no trouble at all. Max could see the effect that had on the two of them. The guy was big, and it was an impressive demonstration of strength on Butch's part.
"I can't walk with my feet like this," the guy said.
"You can hop." Max jerked his head toward the hall, and the guy started to hop in that direction. He almost fell down three times before he got there. Max told Butch to carry him. Butch picked the man up like a baby in his arms. He didn't even grunt. The woman looked more frightened than before.
"He was the one who opened your locked door," Max said with a grin. "He didn't have to use his shoulder at all. Just his hands. And he can break your legs just as easy."
They got the guy into the living room and put him on the floor against the front wall. "Now, you, sweety," Max said. "I want you to show me around the place. We'll start with the master bedroom."
"Goddamn you," her husband shouted, really losing his cool now, "you leave her alone, you son of a bitch! I'll kill you if you so much as…"
Max walked up to him and kicked him in the side, good and hard. His wife let out a gasp that would have been a scream if she hadn't bitten it off. The guy rolled away just as the kick landed, but it was still solid enough.
"Put something in his mouth," Max said. "I'm tired of listening to him. Now, cutie, let's go."
"Please," the woman said. "I…"
"I'm tired of listening to you, too, cunt. Now move!"
She started off, her legs a little wobbly under her. Max gave the shotgun back to Pete and told Butch to go get the rifle. "If he shows any signs of getting loose, or I yell at you from the bedroom, kill him."
He looked at the woman as he spoke. She bowed her head, as though resigning herself to what was about to happen. Something in the gesture excited Max more. He hadn't seen a woman since they'd locked him up, three years ago, and this was where he did some catching up.
She led him to the bedroom and put the baby into a crib. It was still asleep. The trim on the crib was pink, "A girl?" he asked. She nodded. "I wouldn't hurt a baby. No sense to it. But the geek in there likes to hurt people and things, helpless things. Did they say over the radio what he was up for?" She shook her head, and he had the feeling that she didn't want to be told. Max smiled. "Torture murder they called it. Rape, too. He got a hold of a young girl and held her in a drain pipe for two days while he had his fun with her. He'd love to do the same thing to your baby, except for the rape, of course. He'd just like to make her cry. And he knows all kinds of ways to do that."
"Oh, sweet Jesus," the woman said, and started to cry again.
"Now, don't get to worrying about it, baby, I'm not going to let him hurt the little bastard. As long as you and I are friends, why should I?"
"All right," she said. "I understand. You've made your point. If I don't do what you want, my baby will be tortured to death."
"You get an A for the day's lesson. Just keep it in mind."
"HOW could I possibly forget it?" He, words were hard to understand, she was crying so hard. Her body shook with sobs. Parts of it jiggled very nicely. Max stepped forward and took her in his arms. She felt better than he had thought possible. He had forgotten, in three years on death row, just how great it felt to hold a woman. Her body warmth and fragrance were incredibly exciting. Max felt a sudden urge to throw her on the bed, rip her clothes off and pop the dick to her right now. But he held back. After a three year wait it made sense to do it right.
He let her go and stepped back to look at her. Her face was smeared with makeup, and her eyes were red from the tears, but she was still a beautiful thing to look at. He couldn't believe his luck in walking into the one house where this woman lived. It was an encouraging omen. The break had to work out all right with luck like that going for him.
"I'll bet you've got the prettiest little pussy in the county," he said. She didn't look at him, but there was a stiffening of her shoulders. Max grinned. He was enjoying her discomfort. "That right?" he prodded. "Do you have the prettiest pussy in the county?"
"What do you want me to say?" she cried. "I don't know."
"Well, then, I'll just have to judge for myself. Undrape it."
She bit her lip again, and her body began to tremble more violently, but she raised a shaky hand to the back of her dress. She unfastened the top of it and then wrestled with the zipper. It finally came down with a whisper of sound. She looked at him pleadingly for a moment, as though hoping he would change his mind. Max grinned tightly.
"Keep at it," he said. She pulled the dress forward and off of her shoulders, then pushed it down over her hips. She moved very slowly, stalling no doubt, but the halting actions were exciting to Max. He let her go on at her own pace.
She was wearing a slip and nylon stockings and high-heeled shoes. She stepped out of the shoes now, and then looked around the room for a moment, as though she expected to see some means of escape. The removing of the dress hadn't revealed more than a few inches of skin, of course. But the next step, the slip, would leave her nine-tenths naked, and she was having some trouble working up the nerve to take that step.
"You need some help?" Max asked quietly. Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. She bent over and took the lacy hem of the pink slip in her hands. Pulling the hem up was a slow job, because the slip was tight fitting. Static electricity cracked as thigh and then panties came into view. She was crying again, no doubt from nervousness as much as fear. The slip came over her head, disarranging her hair. Strands of gold stood out from the body of it, weaving like cilia from the static electricity.
She was a fine-looking woman. Her legs were just fantastic. How Farmer Brown out there had managed to land a doll like this was something Max couldn't imagine, but he was grateful to the man for having her here. She looked at Max for a moment, misery written all over her face, and he winked broadly. The stockings were held up by a garter belt under the wispy panties. She reached down now and pried open the garters one at a time. The hose withered and fell in a puddle about her ankles. She bent and pulled them off, tossing them away.
"So far I like what I see," Max said with both desire and amusement in his voice. "Now I'd like to see the rest. No more stalling, honey. I'm getting horny, and I want you to strip right now, or I come over there and do it for you."
She reached behind her and worked feverishly at the clasps of her bra. Max felt his cock standing stiff against his pants, and he turned to face her fully, standing up as straight as he could, so that she would be able to see the bulge. She saw it, all right, although she tried to ignore it. Max laughed. "That's all for you, baby."
That started her crying again. She was like a Goddamn sponge, Max thought. All he had to do was say the right words or look at her the right way, and it was like squeezing the tears out of her.
The bra came away, revealing perfect, generous tits. They were like something in a kid's dream, or something from an old calendar. Absolutely flawless, each peaked with a pink nipple as bright and perfect as a little cherry. She must have heard a difference in his breathing or something, because suddenly she looked up at him, and there was a panicky expression on her face, a look different in degree from the way she had looked before. She looked too frightened to live. The expression sent a surge of desire through Max stronger than he had felt at the sight of her nearly naked body.
"Come on, come on," he hissed. "Drop your pants."
She closed her eyes tightly, as though to block out his presence by refusing to look at him, and pushed the panties down over her hips. They slid down the length of her legs and landed at her feet. Max looked at her for a long time, savoring the clean, feminine lines of her, the roundness and the softness, and the golden patch of hair at her cunt. She was more than he had dreamed of all those nights in the row. She was more than he had ever dreamed of.
He had to open the top of his pants before he could get the zipper down, he had such a stiff. He had been saving it for a long time. In a few moments he was naked, his hair-covered body glistening in the overhead light. The woman stood trying to look at anything but him. She was shaking with sobs, and shivering at the same time. When he touched her skin it was icy, and he realized that she had gone into a state of shock. She seemed almost unconscious with it.
Max grabbed a fistful of hair and spun her head around to face him. He slapped her across the cheek with stinging force, and her eyes suddenly focused on him. Her mouth popped open and he could tell she was about to scream. He jammed a hand across the lower half of her face.
"You don't want to wake up the little bastard, do you?" he hissed. She got hold of herself. He could actually feel the stiffening of her body as she forced herself to calm down.
Max smiled at her and took her in his arms again. If she had felt good before the feeling of her naked body against his was indescribable. He almost came standing up just at the touch of her. Her skin was warmer now, but still cool and smooth. He held her close and laid his face alongside hers, relishing the smoothness of her cheek, the fragrance of her skin and hair. She was shaking again, but he could feel her fighting for control. He let his hand slide down the small of her back to cup one cheek of her ass. A fresh quiver moved over at the intimacy, and she gasped aloud.
Max slid his hand over the smooth, round flesh, letting his fingers stray into the crevice. She shivered some more, but she made no effort to escape him. He could feel her struggle against the urge. His prick was so hard it was painful.
"The bed," he whispered, unable to speak aloud. She followed him with reluctant docility and lay across the bed at his direction. He looked down at her there, naked and lovely and absolutely available, and once again he had to tighten himself against spewing his come into the air.
He lay with her, half covering her body with his own and wedging a leg between her thighs. She struggled for just a moment, trying to close him out, but it was reflexive. She caught herself and pulled her thighs apart. He could almost hear her joints creak with reluctance.
The heat of her crotch was a goad, a welcome to him. The reluctance of the welcome made it all the more delightful. He embraced her for a moment, holding her upper torso against him, then cupped both her breasts in his palms, feeling the superb warmth of them as her chest heaved with terror.
Then he took his prick in one hand and centered it on her pussy. She cried softly and bit down on her lip again, clamping her eyes shut and turning her head to one side. Max pushed into her a little way, savoring the experience, then pushed into her all at once, clear to the root.
She twisted her head around and cried out in a sharp, tight voice. Max's arms stole around her again, and he cradled her against him, not moving his hips yet, just savoring the connection of their bodies. But he knew that couldn't last. He had been a long time without a woman, and she was a lot of woman. He began to move, pumping slowly, and the pleasures were more intense, more superb, than he remembered. A fine thing, he thought, when a man forgets how a piece of ass feels.
He kept the movements slow and deliberate, in and out, thrusting and pulling, and all the time he moved his lips over her face and neck and shoulders. He could smell her body now, the perfume she was wearing, the clean flesh and hair, the mild tang of fresh sweat. Her thighs lay heavy and torpid beneath him, and her belly met his in a slow slap-slap as he fucked her. She hadn't opened her eyes for a moment since he began his entry. She was lying beneath him, trying to keep herself apart from the act, allowing it but not sharing it. Later, he thought, he would call her up for that. But now it was enough just to have his prick in something warm and soft and pretty.
He accelerated his in movements and wrung a fresh cry from her. Her eyelids fluttered for a moment before she clamped them tight again. The sensations were streaming through Max in waves. His heart thudded against his chest, and his breath was ragged and short. He threw his hips into a great, last burst of speed, and flooded her with come. She cried out more loudly than before, and her joints stiffened suddenly. Then the climax filled Max's being, and he heard his own grunts, loud and harsh in the room, and then it was over.
He lay atop her for a long while, half because he wanted to make sure she didn't try an escape, and half because he enjoyed the feel of her.
When he was in control of himself fully, and all the sensations that had weakened him were gone, he rolled off her onto his back. He waited for some movement from her, but there was none. She wasn't even crying any more. Max looked over at her and saw that she was staring at the ceiling.
"I'm sorry if I wasn't as good as you hoped," she said. "But you're the first man to-to possess me, other than my husband."
"No shit? You're really an old-fashioned type, aren't you?"
"Am I? I guess so."
"As for performance, I really didn't expect any better under the circumstances. Not the first time, that is. You'll get better."
"I wouldn't be too sure of that."
"Well, I am sure. So sure I'm not even going to threaten you. I'm not going to tell you that if you don't come alive pretty soon I'll turn your brat over to Butch. I'm not going to tell you that hubby out there, all tied up and very handy, could end up hanging in his own smokehouse. I'm not going to tell you that because I don't think I have to. You see, you're just a naturally good fuck. A man who's been around a little bit learns to spot them. Don't get me wrong. I don't mean you're a tramp or anything like that. You're not a woman who'd let a man fuck her if she didn't care about him, unless she didn't have anything to say about it, of course. But when the fucking is taking place, you're going to put out because you just can't help it. That's a fact about you. Maybe you never learned it because you've never crawled into the feathers with anyone but Farmer Brown out there, but now you're going to learn it."
She looked at him for a moment without speaking, then returned her gaze to the ceiling. Max stood and walked to the window. He looked at the opaqueness of it for a while, then pulled down the shade. That had been a stupid stunt, he thought. Leaving the shade up. What if someone had come by?
"Just the two of you live here?" he asked, and turned to face her. She was still lying on her back, her legs spread as he had left them. She turned her face to him and looked as though she were considering her reply. "Don't lie to me… Say, what the fuck is your name, anyway?"
"Julie. Julie Bradford. Mrs. James Bradford."
Max grinned. "Well, don't ever lie to me, Julie, unless you're certain I'm not going to find out. And don't hold any information back, either, because that kind of thing pisses me off royally. If you try to shaft me, I'm going to shaft your family, husband and baby."
"We live here alone," she said. "Just the three of us. But someone is coming here tomorrow."
Max was suddenly alert. "Who?"
"My sister. School is out, and she's coming to spend the summer with us."
"Sister? How old is she?"
"Sixteen."
"Oh, well, that's all right. We can always use some extra poontang around the hacienda."
Julie sat up suddenly. "Please don't hurt her. She's under my care. My parents have sent her here under my care."
"Shit, I'm not going to hurt her. As long as she cooperates."
"Oh, God! Please." She got up and came to him. If it was possible to grovel in a standing position, Max thought, she was doing it now. He liked the feeling it gave him. "Aren't I enough?" she asked. "I'll do anything you want, only please don't hurt Sally."
"You're going to do anything I want anyway, aren't you?" he asked casually, and then, when she didn't reply, he repeated, "Aren't you?"
"Yes, yes, of course. Only…"
"Only shit. I don't have to make any extra promises, sweets. I'm already giving you your husband and your baby, and that's all you get for your ass. I'm in the bargaining position here. Is your sister coming alone?"
She nodded.
"Speak up, Goddamn it."
"Yes, she's coming alone."
"What time?"
"On the one o'clock train tomorrow."
"How will she get here from town?"
"We're supposed to pick her up. She's going to phone from the station."
"Okay. When she calls tomorrow you tell her the car's fucked up. You tell her to take a cab. And that's all you tell her. I'll be there, and you'd better keep to the script or I'll make you sorry."
"Why don't you let me send her away? She'll just be another person to cope with while you're here."
"Two reasons, baby. First, there isn't any way you could send her away without arousing her suspicion. And secondly, there are three of us here and only one woman. We've been cooped up a long time, Julie, and we need recreation. Your sister can provide it."
He waited for further objections from her, but she didn't say anything.
"Now I want you to get your ass in the kitchen and fix us something to eat."
Julie turned and plodded to where her clothes lay. "Don't bother with that." Max ordered. "Just put on a robe." She walked to a narrow closet and took out a thin cotton robe. It looked cheap. He wondered again how such a woman had come to settle for a husband like that asshole in the living room. He'd have to ask her about that sometime.
She shrugged into the robe and started to tie the sash. Max walked over to her and pulled the sash out of the loops. He dropped it on the floor.
"That'll give you something to do with your hands," he said. "It ought to help keep you out of mischief."
"But if I'm going to cook for you…"
"You'll have to let it hang open, won't you? And won't that be too had?"
"Please, I can't go out there in front of those other men like this. And my husband."
"I'll bet you can if you try real hard." She started to say something more, but Max laid a finger softly across her lips and shook his head. She pulled the robe tightly about her body and walked out the door. Max saw her turn sharply toward the kitchen, trying to keep the men in the living room from seeing her. He laughed. She was going to be a lot of fun. And this sister of hers was something else. He hoped she was just half as pretty as Julie, just half. It made him feel all hot and tight inside…