“I don’t see why on earth not. I’ll sleep next to him in one of the chairs. I’m sure I can get a blanket and a pillow from one of the aides.” Frowning at Nate, she added, “I’ve had a lot of practice at waiting around in hospitals, mostly thanks to you.”
He winced at the reminder. “I’m sorry, Mom, but I can’t remember a time I’ve seen you as upset as you’ve been.”
“Of course I’ve been upset. My husband—he’s lying in there right now, alone, while we stand here and argue. And I’m telling you, if only one of us can go in, it’s absolutely going to be me.”
“The nurse did say two,” April corrected, “so I could sit with you if—”
“Not a chance you’re leaving my sight,” Nate said.
“He’s right,” his mother affirmed. “Now, you two go get some rest. Spend some time together, and relieve me in the morning.”
Nate snorted, amused by his mother’s pointed look as her gaze slid from him to April. Clearly, his mom was feeling better, if she was trying to push them back together. Or more likely, trying to push herself back into a starring role as doting grandma.
But was it even possible, after everything they’d gone through? Judging by the uncomfortable look on April’s face, Nate wouldn’t lay money on their odds. What surprised him a lot more was how hard her reluctance hit him. And how his heart leaped at the thought of really wooing her for the first time.
Was he a glutton for punishment or insanely stubborn? It reminded him of all the times he’d stubbornly climbed back on board an angry bull after recovering from a broken wrist or ruptured spleen—until the last outing had nearly killed him.
But Nate remembered, too, the rush it had given him, the electrifying thrill of the risk, the ride, the glory. And what higher stakes could he be playing for than his own role in his son’s life? You’re not thinking straight, something in the back of his brain told him. It wasn’t his son that was the key here, but the girl he’d never really looked at beyond taking her friendship for granted. He needed to convince April that he wanted her, that he could love her in the way she needed and deserved. Even if a part of him wasn’t sure if he could take being tossed off this ride again.
“I guess we’ll go, then,” he told his mother, “but we’re bringing you back dinner, and I don’t want any arguments about that.”
She put a hand on one generous hip. “You ever hear me arguing with food, kiddo, you’d better have somebody check my pulse. But don’t go to any trouble. A sandwich would be just fine if the cafeteria’s still open.”
Smiling, April promised, “We’ll find something better than the cafeteria. How ’bout barbecue or Mexican?”
“Guess you know me better than I thought,” his mother agreed before saying that either one would be great, whenever they were finished eating.
By the time they headed back down to the lobby, the sky outside was dark. But nightfall did nothing to diminish the irritating strains of “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.” Nate could scarcely wait to get the holidays behind them.
There were a number of older people coming in from outdoors, their heads covered in Santa caps and their arms full of boxes containing little gift bags.
“Let me get that door for you,” Nate said, holding it as the seniors kept coming.
“What is all this?” April asked a woman with shining eyes and short gray hair, whose red-and-white hat rested at a jaunty angle.
“Best part of a volunteer’s year,” she said, “is handing out homemade treats to the patients. Want to come along and help?”
“Thanks. I wish we could.” April’s smile said she meant it. “But you and your friends have fun.”
A sassy smile lit the woman’s wrinkled face. “You can bet that good-lookin’ cowboy on your arm we will.” Dropping her voice to a whisper, she confided, “For one thing, I can tell you not all of the rum in my kitchen ended up in this year’s rum ball cookies.”
As they started toward the car, April laughed, sounding delighted. “I want to be just like her when I get old.”
Nate smiled back at her, but it was the darkest shadows that drew his eye. The shadows where a killer could lie in wait, looking to make certain that she didn’t live to see her senior years...or even Christmas morning, only five short days away.
* * *
As they drove around looking for a place to eat, April cringed at Nate’s story about the security guard shocking him right outside the ICU. With his typical self-deprecating humor, Nate tried to minimize what had happened, but all she could think about was how he could have been hurt—or even shot, if things had gone any further.
Furious on his behalf, she said, “Those people should be fired. Or sued. What if you’d reinjured your spine, or hit your head in the fall? What if you—”
“Darlin’,” Nate said, “how ’bout we stay away from what ifs? Because it seems like we’ve got plenty on our plates to worry about as it is. Now, what about this place for dinner? From the looks of that crowded parking lot, I’d be willing to bet the food’s good.”
She grimaced at the change of subject, the justice worker in her fighting his desire to drop the subject of the stun gun incident. But he had a point, she realized. They couldn’t afford to get distracted over injuries that hadn’t happened. Not while the man who’d shot Nate’s father was still on the loose.
Another point she agreed on was that any restaurant as busy as this one on a Sunday evening was bound to be a winner.
Once they were seated, April ordered the chicken-tortilla soup she’d been craving. But Nate insisted on getting enough tamales to share, saying it wouldn’t feel like the holidays without them.
“Oh, definitely, tamales,” she said, reminded of Carlos, who’d worked for the Wheeler Ranch for as long as she remembered. Every year, the old vaquero—the Spanish word for cowboy—would deliver foil-wrapped packages of the spicy meat-pie-like favorite, each one swaddled in a dried, golden corn husk. His wife and daughters made them by the score each season, and invariably a package was shared with April’s family, as well.
“Rory’s going to miss his this year,” she said, saddened to imagine her brother spending Christmastime away from home for the first time ever.
Nate dipped a chip into some melted queso. “I’m sure I can talk Carlos into making a special out-of-town delivery, just this once, for him.”
“Thank goodness for Carlos, then, and you, too, Nate. You’ve always been so great with Rory.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Nate asked. “He’s not only my good buddy, he’s my number one fan.”
It was true, April knew, thinking of Rory’s huge collection of pro rodeo tour memorabilia, almost all of which Nate had given to him over the years. He’d invited her brother to rodeos, too, making sure that Rory and April’s mother both got complimentary tickets and their transportation was taken care of. Though travel with her brother could be challenging, the trips he’d made to what he called “the big show” were some of Rory’s most cherished memories.
“You were nice to him before, too,” she said, “even back when too many other people weren’t. I still remember that fight on the bus, what you did to those three guys who were calling him such horrible names.”
Nate shrugged at her. “You know I only did it to get out of school—three days’ suspension.”
There was something about his wink that got her heart racing...even though the thought of him using it on untold legions of buckle bunnies got under her skin. “I’m calling BS on that, Bull Boy. Why can’t you just let me compliment you on being a good guy back then? And now, too, come to think of it.”
“Messes with my roguish reputation.”
“There you go again,” she said, more irritated than she should be. Because that day back on the bus when they both were only thirteen, she’d lost a piece of her heart to Nate. A piece he’d never seen fit to notice. “Can’t you ever be serious with me? Be serious about me?”
He pushed the basket of chips aside
to frown at her, the muscle twitching at the corner of his jaw. “How can you possibly think I’m not serious about you when I’ve been right by your side when we got to hear our baby’s heartbeat and had our first glimpse of his sonogram? How can you imagine I didn’t mean it when I stood there at the altar, watching the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen coming down the aisle toward me—”
“Come on, Nate.” Her face heated at his over-the-top praise. “I’m not beautiful, not like those other girls you—”
“Not like them, no, because you’re real. You’re genuine and generous, not a flash of fool’s gold, and everything that’s beautiful about you shines through from the inside.”
April’s knee-jerk reaction was to tell him that was a very kind way of telling her the outside wasn’t especially appealing. Not to him at any rate. But the waiter arrived then with their entrées, forcing her to bite her tongue. And to think about the advice Kara had once given her. You need to learn to take a compliment. To just say thank you and be quiet instead of coming up with ten different ways to minimize what’s been said.
The waiter placed a steaming bowl of soup before her, along with a plate of diced avocado and shredded cheese to spoon on top. The fragrant warmth had her empty stomach rumbling, but she made no move to lift the spoon. “Thank you,” she told Nate awkwardly, but she couldn’t make herself leave well enough alone. “That’s very kind of you.”
“It’s not just kindness, April,” Nate said, his face reddening with what looked for all the world like temper. “What do I have to do to get it through your head that I’m finished chasing heartbreakers and hangovers? Even if I weren’t some washed-up cowboy, I’d still—”
“You’re a first-rate rancher, breeder and trainer of some of the finest quarter horses in the country. So, what are you talking about, washed up?”
He winced. “Poor choice of words, maybe.”
April crossed her arms, skeptical. Or maybe you’re not as finished grieving for your lost dream as you think.
“What I was getting at,” Nate told her, “is that all I’m chasing now is a chance to be as good a person, as good a father as the man who raised me. And a chance at the kind of happiness that lasts...with you.”
Seeing the earnest look in his eyes, she reached across the table and brushed her fingertips across his knuckles, wanting to tell him he would be a good father, whether or not his own father lived to see it. And whether or not they ever found a way to move past the wounds they had inflicted on each other.
“You’re already a good man,” she assured him, wanting to believe that he really had changed—or was changing, right before her eyes. Living up to the potential she’d first glimpsed on that bus ride, the potential she had feared he never would grow into if shackled to a woman he didn’t really want.
They ate in silence, with April finishing her soup and two tamales, surprised to realize how hungry she had been. Nate polished off his meal, too, before ordering an enchilada plate to take back to his poor mother, who waited by her husband’s side alone.
At the thought, April felt anger building at the idea of what the shooter—and especially the coward who had sent him—was putting her and Nate and all their loved ones through. All of us... Her heart fell. How could she have been so wrapped up in her own drama that she hadn’t given a thought to her coworkers?
Digging in her purse for the new cell phone, she said, “I need to contact everyone I worked with on the Chambers exoneration about what’s happening. Because who’s to say that I’m the only target Cobb was stalking at Villareal’s funeral or that he won’t go after one of them now, while I’m out of his reach?”
“Since Brady’s been in touch with the Austin PD, I’m sure they’ve notified anyone from the Texas Justice Project they think might be in danger.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” April said, shaking with the panic ripping through her. “Remember what I said about the police not liking that we showed them up? And surely there are those who sympathize with the cop whose sister’s in a coma.”
“I see your point, but calm down. Let’s think this through a minute.” Nate scowled at a trio of mariachi musicians, who were heading their way singing “Feliz Navidad.” Stopping short when he shook his head, they took their guitars, accordion and cheerful Christmas music in the opposite direction.
“So who was at the funeral?” he asked April. “We’ll make a list of who to contact.”
“At the funeral? There were hundreds paying their respects to Martin—family friends and colleagues from the legal community, volunteers, even professional rivals, from criminal prosecutors whose convictions we’ve worked to overturn to...” She stared straight ahead, her mind miles away as she thought back to that day, to how touched she had been to see old enemies acknowledge her mentor’s humanity and talent. Old enemies like... She frowned, her mind snagging the dim memory of a flash of light. And a familiar face.
“Your father was there, too,” she told him, a shiver rippling across the surface of her skin.
“He was?” Nate asked, lines furrowing his brow. “I knew he was in Austin all that week, but I thought it was for one of his political powwows.”
“He was there. I’m sure of it now.” It came back to her now how he had hugged her, squeezed her shoulder and whispered his advice to be good to herself and his grandbaby, before moving on to pay his respects to Martin’s family.
Still, something else nagged at her, a buried memory or her stubborn mind’s attempts to deny the fact that she was in danger?
The waiter returned with the boxed meal and bill and thanked them both for coming before hurrying off to deal with another table.
“I’m not surprised,” Nate said. “He’s always been a class act that way, and it would be just like him to acknowledge a man he thought of as a worthy adversary. But let’s get back to your colleagues. Who was there that had worked on the exoneration with your team?”
“I’ll try Sienna. She’ll know.” While Nate tucked some bills inside the bill folder, April tried the number of her fellow paralegal for the Texas Justice Project, who had also been her maid of honor at the wedding.
Though Sienna was bursting with questions and worried out of her mind about her, April did her best to keep their conversation as brief as possible.
Before she could hang up, Sienna said, “I know it’s hardly the time to ask, but have you given any thought to the latest offer we sent you?”
“What?” April asked. “What offer? I haven’t checked my email in a week, what with the wedding and everything.”
“I wondered why you never brought it up. But since you, um, seem to have changed your mind about this marriage business, maybe you should take a look. We could really use your help here, and I know the extra money would really come in handy.”
April frowned, wondering how many times she would have to refuse her former employer before the new director would get it through his head that she wasn’t abandoning her brother to move back to Austin.
After promising she’d call again as soon as possible, April hung up and told Nate, “Thank goodness Brady’s so on top of things. One of his deputies spoke to Sienna, and she’s contacted all the others. They’re all safe, but everyone’s on guard, especially those of us who appeared in that Trial TV show.”
“That’s good news,” Nate said as they headed for the exit and the dark parking lot beyond.
“Hold on just a minute,” he said, snagging her arm before she reached the door. “Why don’t you wait here and let me have a look out there first? Or better yet, I’ll pick you up. It’s seriously cold out there, and there’s no need to risk you slipping on the ice.”
She nearly argued that she was pregnant and not ninety, but she was stopped by his serious expression, along with a memory of how far from the door they’d been forced to park and how dark the corner of the lot was.
“You be careful, too,” she said, reluctantly agreeing. Before he left, their gazes caught, an unspoken mutual
reminder of the dangers that still lurked.
Chapter 8
While April waited for Nate inside the restaurant’s door, the new phone buzzed in her pocket, and her thoughts flew to her brother. Instead, Max Hager’s name and number flashed up on the screen, leaving her to wonder what the private investigator could’ve learned so quickly.
“I’ve been working the phones since you called,” he said without preamble, “and I’ve got a couple of pieces of news you’re gonna want to hear.”
“About George Wheeler? Because it turns out there’s an Austin cop under investigation connected to Villareal’s death.”
“I’ve got a contact in the PD who told me the same thing,” Max said. “I don’t have any details, but I’m hearing they’re about to make an arrest on the Villareal hit-and-run—”
“Then they’re finally willing to admit it was a deliberate killing?”
“It’s always been a serious crime—failure to stop and render aid’s a felony when someone’s killed.”
“It was a murder, pure and simple,” she said. “The attempt on my life proves it.”
“That was my first thought, too. At least until I got a tip about George Wheeler’s recent trip to Austin.”
“He was at the funeral that day,” she told Max. The flash of light, a reflection off metal, glinted in her memory, but once more, the specifics refused to come into focus.
“That’s not the only thing he was up to that week. Seems there were a number of bigwigs connected to the private prison industry all in town at the same time. And all staying at the same hotel.” Max named an expensive downtown property known to cater to the many lobbyists who routinely descended upon the state capital.
As Nate pulled up in the truck, she headed out and climbed in, the phone still pressed to her ear. Though he looked curious, he didn’t interrupt when she gestured for him to go ahead and drive.
“So they were meeting there,” she said to Max, her heart sinking at the thought of George Wheeler involved in some scheme to carry their agenda from the state capital to DC.
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