by Becki Willis
She curled her fingers into her palms, willing them still. Then she turned on her side and burrowed back against him, safe and warm and happy inside the curve of their spooned bodies.
Once her back was to him, Travis released the smile sneaking up from his heart.
***
When she awoke the next time, the bed beside her was empty. She heard the shower running and closed her eyes to the images playing out in her mind. Daydreams merged with reality when she opened her eyes and saw Travis standing in the room, his bare back turned toward her. Sinewy muscles crisscrossed the tanned skin, but not a spare inch of fat. His shoulders were impossibly wide, his spine straight, his waist narrow where the jeans cinched inward. Her eyes lingered on his denim-clad butt. The man knew how to fill out a pair of jeans.
He turned around and her eyes widened. He definitely knew how to fill out his jeans. Her eyes crawled slowly up, dragging over the tight indentation of his belly button, raking over each ripple of his ribs, inching up the tapestry of muscle that wove over his chest and stretched across to the broad tips of his shoulders. Her eyes ran along the puckered scar marring the perfection, the only flaw she could find with her thorough inspection. As if scorched by the heat of her gaze, a faint trace of red stained the area of his collarbone.
They were both embarrassed. The easiest solution was for Kenzie to bury her face in her pillow and groan aloud, while Travis hurried into a shirt and busied himself making coffee. By the time the liquid dripped out black and thick, Kenzie was in the shower and the moment had passed.
She donned her last clean outfit, one of the few still intact. The western outfit was fine for Colorado, but would draw unwanted attention in New Hampshire. The red scooped-neck tee had enough Lycra woven in to hug her curves before tucking into her rhinestone-studded belt. The paisley print over-shirt had a western yoke and pearl snaps, which she left unfastened. Boots and plenty of jewelry with chunky rhinestone crosses finished the look.
Travis looked up from the computer when she stepped into the room. “So much for blending in.” His words sounded critical, but the look in his eyes was anything but.
“Sorry, but my choices are limited. If we aren’t going home before we go to New Hampshire, I’ve got to go shopping.” Seeing his rolled eyes, Kenzie defended herself. “Hey, I only packed for five days, and half of my clothes were destroyed. This was my spare outfit. Luckily it wasn’t slashed to pieces, too.”
“Any excuse to shop, I’m sure. Good thing I saw a mall right down the street.”
“Remind me to get lotion, too. All this wind and dry air has made my skin like sandpaper,” she complained. “I thought I hated humidity, but now I’m not so sure.” She eyed the mug he lifted to his lips. “Did you save any coffee for me, or did you drink it all?”
“Fresh pot, just for you.”
Kenzie tried not to be touched by his thoughtfulness, but failed miserably. As she poured herself coffee and refreshed his half-empty cup, she asked, “So what’s the plan for today?”
“Around midnight last night, I thought I found something. I need to check it out this morning, make sure my eyes weren’t crossed.”
“Oh? What was it?” She came to stand behind his chair. When she lightly laid her hand on his shoulder, she felt the tightness there. Not stopping to think her actions through, she put both hands on the wide berth of his shoulders and began to knead the knotted muscles. He made an appreciative sound deep in his throat, encouraging her to continue.
She pressed deep, finding and working out a clustered knot of tension. Travis rolled his neck to allow her better access. “Ah, right there,” he moaned. His head dropped back to rest against her abdomen as she worked on a stubborn bundle that ran along the ridge of his shoulder and up the side of his neck. When his pivoting head brushed along the bottoms of her breasts, her hands faltered.
It was difficult enough to define their relationship; it was even harder to distinguish its parameters. Despite several passionate kisses and sharing a bed the last two nights, their relationship was still new enough to be awkward.
They were not dating. In fact, when they returned to Texas, Kenzie had no idea if they would even see each other, outside of the case and outside of their friends. He had not hinted at a future, and she was too scared to press, afraid of what his answer might be. Outside of a few toe-curling kisses and sleep-induced caresses, he had kept his hands to himself. Not that he did not want her; he had held her too closely, filled out his jeans too snugly, to question that fact.
If their relationship was defined as mere friendship, she could laugh off his unintentional touch and tease him about his clumsiness.
If their relationship was sexual, she could simply lean down, sliding around so that his mouth was aligned just so with the aching fullness of her breasts.
Even if their relationship was more than just a few days old, was stronger, she could shift ever so slightly, allowing him to decide what happened next.
But as it was, with their relationship so fragile and new and still struggling to take hold, Kenzie could do nothing but stand there, her heart thundering and her insides quivering as her hands wavered with uncertainty.
It was almost a relief when Travis jerked away and brought them both back to business. “I think I found a pattern.”
Her hands fell from his shoulders and she took the chair at his side, discreetly tucking her fingers beneath her. They still begged to thread through his thick blond hair, to slip beneath the collar of his starched blue shirt. Best to control them any way she could.
“This is the list of transactions with what I assume are account numbers, dates, and money amounts. This is the list of towns you said you lived in.”
“Yes.” She looked at both documents and saw nothing that looked like a pattern. A frown wrinkled her forehead. “So?”
“Look at these account numbers. Most of them have twelve digits. Three numbers, dash, six numbers, dash, three numbers. But look. Every so often, there is a seven-digit number thrown in. Like this one, 3078161, and this one, 0047813.”
“Okay.”
“Look at the list. Read the line with Denver.”
“Denver, Colorado. Sanders. 3078161.”
“And Chicago.”
“Chicago, Illinois. O’Connell. 0047813.” Realization dawned in her eyes. “These are bank account numbers!”
“Exactly. That explains how he was able to fund each identity. I haven’t gone through all the numbers, but I’m willing to bet every single one of them is on that list.”
Kenzie was silent for a long moment. If she was holding out any hope that somehow her father was innocent, she now had proof in her hands otherwise. There was no doubt he had stolen untold amounts of monies, funneling them into his personal bank accounts all across the United States. She was certain the scam encompassed both the government and the mafia. According to them, it also extended to a Swiss bank account.
“I told you, my father was a brilliant man,” she said simply, her voice grown quiet.
Travis seemed to understand the unexpected pain that stabbed her heart. He covered her hand with his. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”
She shook her head. “I knew. I just hoped I was wrong.”
“I think I found something else, too, but this will take longer to decipher.”
“What it is?”
“These two lists with the scrambled letters. This one was in the envelope, this one under the pew at Esterbrook.”
“All I see are a bunch of jumbled letters. None of them spell a single thing.”
“But look at the entire line. Look how it’s written.”
“Scrambled letter, several spaces, more scrambled letters.”
“The last set has three letters, dash, six letters, dash, three letters. Same format as the account numbers, but these are written with letters.”
“I would have never seen that,” she murmured in amazement. “So what is that first set? What number is that for?”
�
��I think that might actually be a name. Look at the list of scrambled letters from the envelope, the ones spaced like names. See that first line? Same set of letters. I’m thinking it’s the name associated with an account. One list gives first and last names, the other links the last name with the account.”
“You’re saying this list would say ‘James Smith’, and this list would say ‘Smith, 111-575757-111’?”
“Exactly.”
Kenzie stared at the multiple lists, populated with numbers and jumbled letters, and saw nothing but a blur. “How on earth will you ever figure it all out?”
“How willing are you to bring the Rangers in on this?”
“Not willing at all.”
Travis expelled a long and heavy sigh. Then he handed her a spiral notebook and a pencil. “We have computer programs that do this with the push of a few buttons. But without logging in to the official Ranger site, we’ll have to this the hard way. Long hand.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Nope. Drink your coffee. You’re going to need it.”
***
By noon, they had found the correct code to translate the twelve-digit string of letters into numeric format, therefore linking a particular account to a particular scrambled name. They were no closer, however, to decoding the actual names. And without the names, none of the other mattered.
“Let’s get out of here for a little while. We can stretch our legs, go get a bite to eat,” Travis suggested.
“And go shopping?” she asked hopefully.
He pretended to be unaffected by her disarming smile. “Maybe,” he scowled.
He took her arm as they left the motel, scanning the parking lot with sharp eyes. But as he opened the passenger door for her to get in, his dark eyes were solely for her. He let his gaze slide over her before saying, “Try to stay out of the direct sun. You could put an eye out with all that bling.”
His words were somewhere between criticism and humor. She homed in on the criticism. “I know, I know. A shrink would say I wear these flashy clothes to over-compensate.” She lifted her chin in defiance. “As a child, I had to be as inconspicuous as possible, never calling attention to myself or my criminal parents. I know you’re thinking I’m certainly making up for it now, with all my low cut tops and wild colors and big, bold, blingy jewelry. Well, you can just keep your thoughts to yourself, buddy.”
Travis merely gazed down at her for another long moment, the expression in his eyes warming her skin. “I was just thinking what a beautiful woman you are,” he finally told her.
Kenzie plopped down onto the seat with a thud. He had done it again, killing her fight with an unexpected sweet compliment.
“Cheater, cheater,” she mumbled, glaring at him as he went round to the driver’s side.
***
Shopping always put Kenzie in a better mood. After eating, they went to the mall and she spent the afternoon wandering through the different stores and boutiques. When Travis cautioned her against using her credit cards and leaving an electronic trail, she limited herself to a few versatile pieces that would mix and match. Two new pairs of frilly underwear, a small compact full of makeup, and she left the mall smiling.
When they passed a carnival in progress, Kenzie begged to go. As usual, Travis glowered. “We’re not on vacation, Kenzie. We’re trying to keep a low profile.”
“What better place to hide than a carnival? No one would think to look for us there!”
“We’re not out on a date, you know,” he grumbled.
Her demeanor changed immediately. There was the crux of the entire matter; they were not on a date. Kenzie averted her gaze by staring out the window.
“Kenzie –”
“Will we ever be, Travis?” she asked quietly.
“Will we ever be what?”
“On a date.” She turned now to look at him, needing to see the expression on his face when she posed the direct question. “When we get back home, do you have any intentions of dating me?”
“What kind of question is that?” he continued to grumble, but he kept his eyes focused straight ahead.
She heaved a sad sigh. “Never mind.” She turned back to stare out her own window. “Just take me back to the motel.”
With a few muttered words under his breath, Travis whipped the truck around. A car in the oncoming lane blared its horn as he swung into its path.
Rocked wildly about in her seat, Kenzie cried, “What are you doing?”
“Apparently taking you on a date.”
“Gee, don’t sound so excited. Or are you trying to kill me first, so you don’t have to go through with it?”
“I’m trying to keep you from getting killed, Kenzie,” he reminded her wearily.
“So take me back to the motel.”
“Too late. I’m taking you on a date to the carnival tonight, whether you like it or not.”
Kenzie studied his grim profile for a moment. “Not the most gracious invitation I’ve ever had, but I’ll take you up on it. And just so you know, you’re going to have fun tonight, whether you want to or not.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Yes, we will,” she said with confidence. “Because I, Travis Merka, am a very fun date.”
The truth was, Kenzie was a fun date. With her infectious laughter and adventurous spirit, it was difficult for any man, even a serious Texas Ranger with a dry sense of humor, not to enjoy himself around her.
Like a child at her first carnival, Kenzie insisted on riding virtually every ride, the more treacherous the better. She begged Travis to win her a stuffed animal, laughing with glee when he spent fifty dollars to win her a small antelope worth only five. The smile she rewarded him with was worthy of the largest of prizes. They had their pictures made in the photo booth, where she finagled a smile out of him in one pose, a kiss in another. They snacked on cotton candy and funnel cakes, shared a turkey leg and chili fries, sipped on icy slushes and shy, lingering kisses. If this was to be a date, Kenzie made certain he lived up to his end of the bargain. Being stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel was an added bonus.
“Admit it!” she said as they left the noisy fairgrounds behind. “Admit that you had a good time!”
“Aside from the half broken Tilt-a-World and that questionable chili, I guess I had a pretty good time,” he conceded.
“Pretty good? You had a great time, and you know it!”
They had reached the truck and the darkened parking lot. Ever vigilant, Travis surveyed the surrounding area before he turned to press her back against the truck door. Crowding her body with his, he presented her with a rare and heart melting smile. “Okay, you win. I had a great time tonight. The most fun I’ve ever had at a carnival.” His hands, now familiar with the curve of her waist, came up to hook in her belt loops and tug her forward. “You?”
Her vigorous nod sent dark curls tumbling around her shoulders. “The best time ever.” Winding her arms up around the tall column of his body and latching her fingers behind his neck, she admitted, “But this was my first carnival to ever go to.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. And don’t kill my buzz, asking how I lived my whole childhood without going to a carnival. Just kiss me.”
“Even the orphanage took us to the Texas State Fair every year. And to the carnival whenever it came through town.”
“You’re doing it. You’re killing my buzz.”
Snagging her closer, Travis lowered his head. “Can’t let that happen, now can we?”
Several minutes later, Kenzie crawled into the middle seat of the truck, humming a happy tune. She curled around his arm dreamily. “Thank you, Travis. Thank you for my very first carnival and my very first carnival prize.” She wiggled the stuffed antelope in his face. As he started the engine and backed out, she added softly, “And thank you for our date.”
“Another very first.” His quiet reply held promise, hinting at more to come.
“Thank you.�
��
“My pleasure, darlin’.”
Chapter Fifteen
Once back at the kitchenette, date night was over and reality set back in. Travis went back to his book of codes, and Kenzie uploaded pictures from the concert to Kathryn. She finished before he did, so she curled up on the nearby couch where she could covertly watch him while pretending to watch television.
“We should have looked for a better hotel while we were out,” she lamented, grumbling about the limited channel selection.
“Guess we could have looked for something with two rooms,” he agreed without looking up.
Kenzie wrinkled her nose. “I guess this one isn’t so bad.”
He actually chuckled. “That’s what I thought you said.” Still without looking her way, he said, “And stop sticking your tongue out at me. Didn’t anyone ever tell you your face might freeze like that?”
Kenzie laughed, tossing her stuffed antelope at him. He caught it with one hand, eyes still downcast, and sent it back with perfect aim, all without ever breaking his train of concentration.
Propping her swollen left leg on the coffee table, Kenzie stroked the soft fur of her antelope. Something about Travis’s words stirred a memory.
“Stop that. Don’t make such a ridiculous face,” her mother admonished. “Your face will freeze like that. You’re already homely enough.”
“But I don’t like that blouse. It’s ugly,” she whined, staring at the plain beige shirt with little to no shape.
“It’s perfectly fine. A good, serviceable fabric. Nice neutral color. Not too flashy. It’s fine.”
“I want this one.” She held up a frilly blouse fashioned from a bright, vibrant print.
“Absolutely not!”
“But it’s way prettier, and it fits so much better!”
“We’re taking the beige blouse, and that’s that,” her mother hissed.