She and Hunter were enemies; that she understood. He hated her. She understood that even better. But deadly enemy or not, hated or not, Loretta never would have laughed at him if their roles had been reversed. She might have obliged him and slit his throat, dad-blame him, but she wouldn't have laughed. She hated him more than she had ever hated anyone--so much that during the course of the afternoon, she had imagined murdering him in a dozen inventive ways. Not that she'd get a chance or that she would do it even if the opportunity presented itself.