by Lucy Farago
This time when he moved on her she stayed still. But she warned herself not to trust him, not to believe a word he had to say. As if that was enough to protect her. “What’s that?”
“I’m guessing you wrote that speech. You wrote it and showed it to a teacher who told you to tone down the world is a horrible place and be on your guard doom and gloom. He or she probably suggested you lighten up and paint an uplifting and bright future for the graduates.”
He’d guessed right. “Shut up,” she muttered under her breath. “I couldn’t do what she wanted. One of my classmates was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s disease. He wouldn’t make graduation. There were kids who couldn’t afford college and some whose rosy future was minimum wage in a department store. Not everybody got choices or a bright future and I didn’t think it fair to rub their noses in it. My speech focused on doing the most with what life gave you. Apparently reality had no place at commencements.”
He leaned his elbows on the railing. “Were you mad?”
“No. She explained she understood where I was coming from.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “And she knew my father. She told me if I didn’t learn to focus on the positive, the negative would eat me up inside.”
She turned and together they looked down at the River Walk. At the people strolling past and those seated at outdoor patios, drinking, eating, oblivious to the disappearance of the woman who, like that teacher, wanted Grace to live the positive and shelve the negative. But what had it gotten Jessie? That negative kept a person on their toes. Didn’t it? She glanced up at Cowboy. He hadn’t lied to her, that was true. But he hadn’t told her the truth either. “You really didn’t read that file until this morning?”
“Ask Monty when you see him. He’ll tell you I prefer to make my own judgment calls on people. I read those things if we’re dealing with nefarious characters, but when my job is to provide a safe house or a crate of cockroaches, I don’t find the need to understand our targets.”
“Cockroaches?”
“Long story, which I would rather not recall.” He shivered. “I hate bugs.”
She smiled, the idea of a man his size hating anything he could step on was too funny.
“Grace, I slept with you because I like you. You weren’t a convenience or a bonus. I should have walked or taken a cold shower, but you were so damn cute. And sexy. And sweet. I mean, you knew the words to all those corny songs. How could I not want you? Please don’t confuse my being paid to look out for you with my wanting you in my bed. Those are two very, very different things.”
She felt the heat off his skin through her own, thawing her resolve to stay mad at him.
He sighed. “I have to trust you and that’s not going to work if you don’t reciprocate that trust. I don’t do things by the book. You have to decide, right now, what’s more important—your integrity or finding out what happened to Jessie. This isn’t like your speech. I might do or say things your daddy can’t find out about. We’re a team, or we’re not anything at all.”
She understood how ICU operated, just as she firmly believed it was why her father had hired them to begin with. “Not a problem.”
“I mean it,” he said. “It might not be as easy as saying nothing. He could ask you straight out.”
“Geez, it’s not like you’re going to kill someone. I’m okay with this.” And she didn’t think her father would ask her. He’d be too busy yelling. “But I think it’s best he not know I’m helping.”
He cleared his throat. “He knows about the party. One more thing, and this one is a deal breaker, more important than trust.”
What could be more important than trust?
“You’re an independent woman. I respect that,” he said. “But it’s my way or the highway. If I tell you to do something, I expect you’ll do it.”
“I’m not stupid,” she argued.
“I didn’t say that. But if I say it’s too dangerous, then I have to know you’ll do as I tell you. Not because you’re stupid but because I have the training and even with all your tae kwon whatever, you don’t. Shooting at a target is a whole pack of something different when that target is breathing.”
“Have you ever shot anyone?” She’d blurted out the question, realizing too late that she might not want to know the answer.
He stood to his full height, the expression on his face unreadable. “Is that something you really want to know?”
Did she? “No.”
He nodded. “Am I in charge? Do we have a deal?” He held out his hand.
It was a no-brainer. For Jessie, she would work with him. But she had to get a final word in. “You understand my agreeing to this in no way means you can boss me around? Only that I’ll back off if the situation calls for it?”
“If I say the situation calls for it. I mean it, Grace. Your father and my boss will have my hide if something happens to you.”
Grudgingly, she took his hand. It enveloped hers. When she tried to pull away, he held on. Being cocooned inside his tight grip should have made her nervous. Yes, they’d slept together, but it didn’t mean she should allow him back into her personal space. Still, the warmth of his skin traveled from her hand up her arm. “Let’s go inside,” she said, trying once again to extricate her hand and shake off the urge to further bury herself in the safety of his arms. She reminded her muddled brain that she could take care of herself. This time, with a slow, lazy smile that said he’d won, he let her go.
The hotel phone rang the moment they stepped inside the room. As Cowboy answered, Grace retrieved her phone and noticed the missed call from her father. Clutching the phone to her racing heart, she prayed for good news and got none when Cowboy’s expression changed from a man who’d just gotten his way to a man who seriously wanted to hurt someone.
“Where?” he said, his knuckles turning white.
Forcing her fingers to open, she glanced down at her father’s number. Her thumb hovered over his name. What if they’d found Jessie? And the news wasn’t good?
“She’s with me” penetrated the buzzing in her ears. She forced her lungs to work and before he opened his mouth, her knees buckled. Strong arms caught her and helped her sit, then he went back to the phone. “Call me when you know more.” He hung up, quickly returning to her side. “You okay? What can I get you?”
“The truth.” Because like it or not, it’s what she had to hear. She looked him square in the eye, doing her best to hide her fear.
“Fair enough. They found a body. Five miles downstream from where Jessie’s car was recovered.”
She appreciated the fact that he didn’t sugarcoat it. It wouldn’t bring her back. “Is it her?”
When he said nothing, she repeated herself.
“They haven’t identified the body yet.”
“Why not?”
“It’s on its way to the morgue for positive identification.”
That made no sense. They had her picture. “They must know what she looks…” The blood drained from her body and all of a sudden a freezing cold seeped into her muscles. If they couldn’t ID, it was for one reason only. Instead, she took the analytical approach. She distanced herself from the image her brain kept wanting to show her. She made herself think like a reporter.
“This makes no sense. If she was in that car, why was her body down the river, five miles no less? Bodies sink after drowning. And this wasn’t an ocean. It can take weeks for them to float to the surface.”
“The river is warm this time of year. The warmer the water, the faster gases develop. Plus… an animal could have found the body and brought it to the surface. It was found in a reedy area.”
“Animals?” Her stomach roiled, the idea repulsive.
“She’d have been long dead by then. Don’t let your mind go there.”
How many more places was she to stop her mind from going to and how much longer could she keep doing it? “If it is Jessie they found…” She was going to lose it. She closed her eyes as impending tears built to a c
rescendo that would soon embarrass her. Swallowing hurt.
Those strong arms, the ones she’d wanted to entomb herself in, wrapped around her. She didn’t protest. While they didn’t strip her of the pain, it was good to know she wasn’t alone. She rested her head on his chest and allowed him to lean them back onto the sofa. Surprisingly it was his heartbeat that soothed her the most, the steady rhythm of a man who would see her through this. How she knew that she didn’t understand, but know it she did. Cowboy would be there for her. And either she wanted desperately to trust him or she was falling for a guy she’d just met. Either way, she was a fool.
*
From the beginning Cowboy had suspected Jessie wouldn’t be found alive. And even though they had no absolutes, he was betting the next call they got would confirm his suspicions. In Grace’s mind he was comforting her. Comforting each other was more the truth of it. He hadn’t seen Jessie in well over a decade, but to think that the young girl he’d risked everything for was gone was upsetting. Even more so if the family he’d saved her from turned out to have finished what Edward had begun.
“Did my father say anything else?”
“That wasn’t your father.” And that’s all he said. She’d know enough to read into it.
“Oh, then I’d better return his call.”
He tensed, waiting to see what she’d do. It was wrong to test her, but he had to be sure she’d stick to their bargain. Would she tell her father about the call? Or should Cowboy spell it out before she picked up that phone and dialed?
She gave a shaky sigh and made no attempt to reach for the phone right in front of her. He relaxed a little. Waited.
He’d had his misgivings about Irvine, but he appreciated that the woman in his arms had come to the same conclusion. Disappointed as she was in her father’s behavior, Cowboy hadn’t wanted to be the one to tell her the cop who raised her by the book had manipulated the situation to get ICU to help his investigation. He hadn’t been certain how she’d react, but she appeared to be taking it in stride. In fact, he’d go so far to say she’d been relieved. A shame her relief had to be short-lived by the news they’d just received.
“Maybe I should wait for him to call back. I’m not certain I can pretend to not know what’s happened. I may need you to field the call for me.”
Cowboy closed his eyes and pressed his lip to the top of her head. “You just let me know.”
“Cowboy?”
“Yes.”
“What do we do if it is her?”
He didn’t even have to think about that one. “We find her killer.”
Chapter Fifteen
Cowboy stood by the window watching San Antonio light up as the sun disappeared from the sky. For the umpteenth time he turned to stare at the closed doors. He wanted to be in there with her, but she’d asked to be alone and he had to respect her wishes, whether he liked it or not. A knock hopefully signaled the brandy he’d ordered from room service. They could both use a drink.
He let the waiter in with the cart, tipped the guy, and waited for him to leave before trying to get Grace to come out and maybe eat something. Along with the brandy, he’d asked for a variety of sandwiches, fruit, three different flavors of ice cream, and chocolate. Women liked chocolate when they were upset, didn’t they? He hadn’t had much practice at this and the last woman he’d dealt with who’d been nearly unapproachable was now dead.
Irvine had called a few hours after Cowboy had already received the news that a body had been recovered. Dental records confirmed it was Jessie, cause and time of death yet to be determined, but it looked like internal injuries. It crushed his heart to think of that sweet girl no longer here. He’d never met Jessie the woman, but if Grace’s fit of rage at the news had been any indication, she’d been a person no one would want to harm. He’d expected Grace to be upset, to do what anyone would do who’d suffered a loss, but she’d stunned him by vowing revenge. It had taken him nearly twenty minutes to calm her down, and that was after he’d stopped her from storming out.
He understood her response, her need to do something—anything. But that wasn’t going to bring Jessie back. He had something better in mind—that is, if she went along with it. As Monty was already on the plane, Cowboy would have to wait until he landed to get any more information the cops weren’t willing to give. Irvine might have had another agenda for bringing him, but it didn’t mean he’d openly allow Cowboy access to the case files. Especially now.
He knocked softly. “Grace? Honey, I ordered room service. Some food, brandy. I wasn’t sure what flavor you’d like so I had them bring three kinds of ice cream.”
She opened the door. He’d expected to see evidence of her crying. He didn’t. But now a deeper shade of green, her eyes overcome with sadness, made him want to wrap his arms around her and never let go.
“You got me ice cream?” she said, her voice hitching.
“Vanilla, rocky road, and strawberry.” He pointed to the cart. “Chocolates too. There’s also real food if you’re up for it.”
She smiled, a small one but genuine nonetheless. “Did I hear you say brandy?”
He returned her smile and poured her a snifter.
She tossed it back and passed him the glass. “Again.”
He obliged. This one she sipped.
“That ice cream’s going to melt,” she said, eyeing the array of food.
“Want some?”
“This is very sweet.” She picked up a chocolate-covered almond and twirled it between thumb and index finger. “These are my favorite. Jessie wasn’t a fan. She preferred those gummy things.” She set the chocolate down on the cart and blew out a breath. “What now?”
She’d said it like a woman who wasn’t certain of what the future held. That wasn’t Grace. At least not the Grace he’d spent the past few days with. She’d need time to mourn, and she’d have it…later.
He couldn’t—he wouldn’t—leave her behind. He prayed this would work. “I don’t have to be at the ranch for another three days. That gives me time to fly to New York.” He poured himself a brandy. “I’m going see what I can find out about the kid Stanton seems desperate to find.”
“I’m coming with you,” she said, some of the spark returning to her eyes. “And before you say no you should remember that as a reporter I can be an asset to you.”
He didn’t need convincing. “How so?”
“I’m good at what I do. You might be a great investigator but I’m a phenomenal investigative reporter. I have the awards to prove it,” she said with a smugness he knew wasn’t her. “I can help,” she said, this time with far less certainty. “Besides, if you think I’m not going to do everything in my power to find out who killed her, you’re mistaken.”
That’s what he was counting on. “I have a plane on standby. If you’re up for it we can fly out early tomorrow.”
“Why don’t we go now?” She set her drink down on the cart, looking at him expectantly.
“We’d have to spend the night. I figured you’d want…you know, time to process.” He’d have already been on that plane, but his best friend hadn’t been murdered.
“I can process later,” she said. “The longer this goes unsolved, the more likely it will remain that way. And you might think I’m being irrational, but I think the Stantons are involved.”
He suspected the same.
“Jessie had her reasons for not telling me she knew the Stantons. That woman in the mall, she said they’d paid for Jessie’s parents’ funeral. That was long before Jessie got the story. Why didn’t she tell me a U.S. senator forked out the cash for the funeral? There’s a history there.”
Yes, but he didn’t believe that was the reason Jessie was murdered. For Stanton to have found out what he and Jessie had done, she’d have had to tell him. And he was confident she wouldn’t have done that. This kid was the key. For some reason, two people known for their contributions to their community, known for the charitable work, decided they needed to hide from t
he Stanton family. Why? What danger did Lyle Stanton pose to them? And had Jessie found out?
*
Grace had grabbed clean clothes and tossed them into Cowboy’s bag. While she took a quick shower before their flight, Cowboy debated the sensibility of staying on this case. He was risking everything. Grace could stumble on the real reason Jessie didn’t tell her about the Stantons. Still, he wasn’t going to abandon her to get into whatever trouble she could and might get herself into.
Thirty minutes later they were on the tarmac. “What’s this?” she asked of the Turboprop Socata waiting for them.
“It’s how we’re getting to New York. Did you think we would walk?” he said teasing her.
“Of course not. I just assumed a bigger plane.”
“How much bigger do you want? It seats six.”
“Wow, that many?” she said, starting to look a little green around the gills.
“You afraid of flying?” This was going to be a long trip if that was the case.
“No.” But she’d paused too long. “I love flying.”
“You’re not doing a good job of convincing me.”
“Fine. I don’t have issues with flying. In big planes. But I’m sure the pilot is very competent.” She pushed past him and climbed into the plane.
He followed, loving every minute of it, sadistic bastard that he was. Better she be mad at him than thinking about Jessie. He closed the door behind him and tossed the bag onto one of the empty seats. She looked at him, then the door, then back at him, some of that green tinge coming back.
“Buckle up. Sleep if you like. In fact, maybe that would be for the best.” It was one advantage to flying at night.
“Where’s the pilot?”
“You’re looking at him.”
“Oh no,” she said and tried to scoot around him.
“Oh yes,” he said and pushed her as gently as he could into a seat, reaching around her to buckle her belt.