by Susan Stoker
Chapter Four
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The sun kissed the horizon with pink and orange licks as Laz drove into Brier Creek. His gut tensed at the sight of the familiar sight of the large magnolias his ancestors had planted so long ago. They had grown wider in the years Laz had been gone. Their blossoms’ sweet scent drifted through the vents in the car.
He pushed away the memories, unwilling to get drawn back into his old life. Yet here he was driving back to Cartwrights to face the woman he’d not done right by. Perhaps it was a salvation for him, to right the wrongs of his past. That meant confronting who he’d been and what he’d done. That wasn’t exactly what he wanted.
Fate seemed to have intervened, regardless of his plans. It yanked him back into his past. The emotions of the day before had left him exhausted and he hadn’t slept well. His thoughts ranged from the softness of her lips, to the violence of the crime against her store, then they swung back to the brief moment her breasts had been pressed against his chest.
He was a complete fool to think simply helping her solve a crime would grant him atonement. Laz hadn’t just burned bridges when he left Brier Creek. He’d blown them sky high, along with everything around them.
He sipped at the coffee, but it was bitter and lukewarm, as hotel coffee usually was. If Laz was honest with himself, he’d left early to avoid seeing anyone. Bea thought they were meeting at eight but she was wrong. He was arriving at six and they were going to get started on this foolish partnership. He’d updated his case files and told his boss he was working a new angle but failed to mention Bea.
No, he needed to keep that little tidbit to himself, safe and sound, away from the prying eyes of the rangers. His coworkers would latch onto the idea he had accepted her help and never let it go. In the years he’d been working for the rangers, Laz hadn’t lasted more than three months with a partner. It was why he was assigned to a county-wide investigation. He was good at sleuthing out seemingly disparate events and data.
Laz also hadn’t had a relationship with anyone in all that time. He dated on and off, had sex on occasion but he continued to be alone. Some might call it self-flagellation. He called it giving back to the world in his own way by being a ranger. Being happy was never a guarantee for anyone.
Especially Lazarus Graham.
He had nothing to complain about since he’d grown up on a ranch with enough money for anything he wanted. Laz worked hard at helping his father on the Circle Eight, but it hadn’t meant anything except more allowance. He hadn’t connected with the land and what it meant. Truth be told, he was a failure as a Graham. A family with a legacy of fighting for what they believed in, no matter the odds, true Texans through and through.
Laz had skated through the first eighteen years of his life. If he allowed himself to look back, he could get lost in regrets and then he would never be able to move on. But had he? Beatrice Cartwright reminded him quite plainly that he hadn’t moved on. Laz had simply stepped to the side and walked on, leaving behind the steaming pile of shit he’d created of his life.
He pulled into the parking lot beside the gun shop and got out. Bea lived above the shop, which meant the burglary occurred while she was asleep, unprotected, upstairs. The thought of her catching the violent criminal in the act made his jaw ache from clenching it so hard. She no doubt had several guns upstairs and would have defended her store if she’d heard the intruders. He wondered if she slept hard or if the insulation was spectacular. Either way, she hadn’t heard the crime.
Laz had no business protecting her from herself, but he would protect her from further harm. That was his job, along with solving the crime. His feelings for Bea, the nonexistent ones, were of no consequence. There was no emotional connection to her. Or at least there shouldn’t be. Couldn’t be.
Wouldn’t be.
He closed the car door and walked toward the side entrance. It was an indistinct steel door painted a dark green. A doorbell with a speaker had been installed beside it, but there was no sign indicating what, or for whom, a visitor would ring for. Yet he knew it was Bea’s private quarters, but he wasn’t sure how he knew.
He rang the doorbell, glancing at his watch and noting it was barely ten minutes past six. Laz hoped she was an early riser. Belatedly, he remembered he should have brought coffee and breakfast in hand as he’d promised.
A full minute went by before the speaker crackled.
“What?”
“It’s Ranger Graham.” He winced at the formality in his voice but he was there in an official capacity.
“Son of a bitch! Lazarus?” Her voice was husky, either from sleep or distorted by the speaker. “You said eight. It’s barely past six. Is the sun even up?”
“I thought we could get an early start.” He leaned against the wall, regretting the impulse to avoid his past.
“And you forgot how to use the phone? Don’t they teach you that at ranger school? I thought you were done being an asshole.” Her annoyance seemed to grow by the second.
He deserved it, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “I brought all my notes with me.” Perhaps he could appeal to her with a bribe. “I thought we could go over them together.”
A few moments passed.
“Shit, that’s dirty pool, Graham. I can’t resist seeing your notes and you know it. I don’t suppose you brought the coffee and food?”
“No, I didn’t know where to buy it, but I thought we could get some together.” Oh, how low he had fallen. Ridiculous that he felt the need to tell half-truths. “Let me revise that. Will you join me for breakfast and we can review my notes?”
This time more than a few moments passed. “Fine, but you’re fucking paying. Give me ten minutes. And you’re still an asshole.”
Laz cooled his heels by the door while he waited for Bea. When she emerged, her wild curly hair was up in a ponytail and she wore a pair of cutoff jeans and a Dr. Who T-shirt with a pair of Keds. The most surprising thing was she wore black-rimmed glasses. Instead of detracting from her appeal, the casual look made her more attractive.
Sexy as hell, if he were honest with himself.
“Let’s go down to the café so I can get some coffee. I won’t function without caffeine.” She yawned so loudly, her jaw cracked.
“Is it walking distance or should we drive?” He gestured for her to precede him back to the front of the building.
“It’s six blocks. I can make it if you can.”
Laz considered how many people would see him walking down the street in Brier Creek. He couldn’t hide forever, not that he was actually hiding. It was more like avoiding.
He stopped at his car and picked up the binder he’d compiled with all the notes from the crimes. She nodded appreciatively at the black turbo-charged vehicle. Laz did like speed and power in his car, one of the few indulgences he allowed himself.
After reviewing some results from the crime scene techs, Laz had a few ideas, but he needed to put all the information together. Bea was smart and seemed to want to give her opinion on everything, whether or not he wanted to hear it. That was what he needed. Someone to push him beyond the obvious and into the unknown.
There was little traffic on wheels or on two feet as they walked down the street together. Her head barely reached his chin but she had a long stride because of those long legs of hers. She was curvy, feminine, confident, and strong all at the same time. Bea had matured into a hell of a woman. Her best feature, as always, was her breasts. He had to force himself not to look at them, although that proved as difficult as telling his dick not to notice them.
The café proclaimed itself “The Roasted Bean” with a cartoonish-looking coffee pot on the sign. A few cars were in the parking lot beside it. Bea strode through the door with Laz on her heels. The scent of cinnamon, vanilla, and coffee washed over him.
After ordering coffee and cinnamon buns, Laz insisted on paying. She murmured a thank you. Bea grabbed a number on a holder and picked a table near the window. Laz was starting to
feel like a puppy following her, not that the back of her was a bad view. Her ass moved with a delicious swagger. He shook off the attraction that seemed to want to take over his thoughts.
He set the binder down and tapped the top. “I’ve compiled all the information on each of the crimes in here. Details on the crime scenes, the evidence, and each business.”
“Are they all gun stores?” She peered at the black cover with obvious interest.
“No, a dry cleaner, craft store, travel agency, and florist.” He waited while she digested that information.
“And they all had damage like mine?”
“Similar but not exactly the same.” He shook his head. “The problem is no business has anything in common.”
Her lips twisted and he had the gall to notice they were plump. Kissable. He remembered the brief seconds that mouth was pressed near his, not to mention the press of her incredible breasts against him. She was soft and sexy all over.
Holy fuck.
“Are you listening to me?” She frowned.
“No. I was lost in thought.” He wasn’t about to admit he was fantasizing about her lips and the rest of her.
“Hmph. I doubt that you were lost at all.” She reached for the binder. “Can I see your notes?”
He almost said no, but the entire point of this was to get her perspective on the crimes. Not to ogle her.
“Sure.” He pushed the binder across the scarred wooden table top toward her.
“One thing occurred to me.” She pulled the binder to her breasts.
Jesus please us. He was relieved when the waitress brought their coffee and breakfast. Laz had a moment to collect himself as he sipped at the surprisingly delicious coffee.
“Told you the Mad Hatter was good.” She waggled her eyebrows. “It’s my favorite brew and they only brew it on Tuesdays and Fridays.”
She took a slurp from her own oversized cup and Laz’s attention went back to her mouth. He looked away and watched a dog meander down the street instead. She made a few noises as she enjoyed the drink. He resisted the urge to stare at her like he wanted to. Laz wasn’t a weak man, not by a long shot, but Bea reminded him that he was indeed a man. One with needs and desires. He also had self-control, something he needed to exercise.
Laz shifted on his chair as he sipped at his own coffee. The low hum of conversation, the screech of the espresso machine, and the whir of the milk frother echoed through the small café. He breathed in and out, finding his iron self-control that he’d cultivated the last ten years.
He remembered what she’d said before their breakfast arrived. “What did you mean, one thought occurred to you?”
Her eyes widened behind the glasses. She swallowed the bite of the cinnamon bun she’d been chewing. “Oh, right.” A dab of sugar rested at the corner of her mouth and he had the foolish urge to lick it off. “The other four businesses that were hit. None of them are the kind to have a lot of cash or merchandise that can be sold.”
He nodded. “That had occurred to me, but then you got hit. You told me yourself, you have a couple hundred thousand in inventory.”
“Yes, but that’s all in the safe at night. They didn’t even try to break into it. It’s old, but it’s damn sturdy. Whoever they are, they weren’t after a big score.” She licked at the sugar and it disappeared into the warm recesses of her mouth.
Laz stifled the groan but he couldn’t stop the twitch in his pants. “No, they couldn’t have gotten more than ten thousand total from all the businesses.”
“Maybe the others were practice?” She sipped at the cup, her expression thoughtful.
“Practice for what?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know.” She opened the binder on her lap and browsed his notes. Her eyebrows scrunched together as she read. It was damn charming and it bothered him that he noticed.
They consumed their breakfast in silence, each seemingly lost in thought. Laz tried to focus on all the details he’d collected, but there was too much to bring it all to mind at once.
“I think we should take this and spread out the information. I had a professor who once told me, don’t always focus on the drop, sometimes you need to focus on the bucket.” She wagged the fork at him. “A broader view.”
“What are you suggesting?” He swallowed the last of his coffee.
“We get two cups to go and go back to the shop. I’ve got room on my walls and extra with the plywood on the windows. We put the information up and see if we can solve the puzzle.” Her cheeks were slightly flushed and her eyes sparkled.
Damn, she was beautiful. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d been such an asshole to her. He wouldn’t blame her a bit if she kicked him out on his ass after she’d satisfied her curiosity.
“I’m up for that.” He got to his feet. “Two Mad Hatters to go?”
“With a shot of caramel in mine.” She grinned and turned her attention back to the binder.
Laz ordered the coffee and waited while the girl behind the counter rang up the purchase. She eyed him with open interest.
“Are you a Graham?” The girl couldn’t be more than eighteen, fresh faced and blonde, not to mention thin as a rail.
“I am.” He handed her cash.
“I thought so. You kind of look like Samuel.” She blushed, as though speaking his cousin’s name aloud was cause for embarrassment. Perhaps it was; Sam was a year older than him, and at least ten years older than this little slip of a thing.
Laz didn’t respond to her comment because there wasn’t anything to say. He wouldn’t encourage the girl to pine after a dog like Sam. The man left a trail of broken hearts behind him. Some woman was going to give him a comeuppance one of these days.
He pocketed the change from the girl and picked up the cups. Bea was awash in sunshine from the window behind her, bent over the binder and engrossed in the information within. The golden rays caressed the curls that had escaped the confines of the ponytail. They shone in shades of the sunrise itself. His heart did a funny flip.
“Ready?” He kept his gaze on the window instead of her. If she knew the foolish thoughts that raced around his equally foolish head, she would probably punch him. In the balls.
“Yeah, let’s go.” She closed the binder and got to her feet.
He tried to balance one coffee cup on top of the other, but she tutted at him, pushed his hat on his head, then opened the door. “We don’t need to stand on ceremony, Ranger. After you.”
Laz had been raised as a Southern gentleman and it was still part of who he was. Letting her hold the door for him went against his grain but he walked through without a word. He was about to spend more time with her. Alone in the store.
Shit. What had he agreed to?
Bea unlocked the front door and held it open for Laz to come inside. He was looking too serious, with a tight jaw and flat expression. She was excited to find the clues in the details he’d compiled. It was the first time in a long time she felt like her brain was fully engaged.
Running a store was hard work, but it wasn’t mentally stimulating. This was not the ideal situation, by any means, but she enjoyed the challenge of figuring out the puzzle of why and who laid out for her.
She set the binder in the empty display case. “Wait here.” She went into the back and gathered supplies, then wheeled them out on the two chairs. Bea set the chairs facing the front of the store. She intended to use the plywood and the entire storefront to lay out the details.
Bea held up a package of large, neon sticky notes and black markers. “Let’s get to work.”
For the next four hours, they created columns and rows of information about all five burglaries. As the information became visual, Bea started to see a pattern.
“We need sustenance.” She pressed a hand to her belly. “That cinnamon bun is long gone.”
Laz glanced at his watch. “A little early for lunch.”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “I don’t follow normal conventions. Where’s the fun
in that?”
His stomach grumbled and she raised one brow at him.
“Fine. I’m hungry too.” It seemed the confession was hard won given the frown on his face.
“Everybody has to eat, Ranger. I’ll go make some sandwiches and we’ll eat while we work. Then you won’t be shirking your duties.” She went up the back stairs and put together a few sandwiches, grabbed potato chips, a couple cans of soda, and napkins.
When she came back down with the food tucked into a bag, she found him facing the wall of sticky notes, legs braced and arms crossed. His ass was nicely framed in his jeans. Eminently squeezable. His shoulders looked so damn wide too.
“I hope you like ham and cheese.” She set the bag down in the display case. “I wasn’t prepared to feed a full-grown man.”
He grunted. She pulled out a sandwich and a soda, then sat down. His behind was at eye level and she found herself unable to look away. What she should’ve done was move but she didn’t. Nope, she stared, fascinated as he shifted his stance and the muscles moved beneath the fabric that covered his perfectly toned body. A pistol rode his hip, looking lethal and dark. Not unusual for anyone in Texas. Hell, she carried one in a concealed holster. The open carry, however, seemed right for who he was now. A ranger.
Bea couldn’t help herself. Lazarus Graham was a beautiful man. She hadn’t had occasion to touch a man with such a physical presence. Not that she would be touching him. Although she already had, hadn’t she? Damn, she’d hugged him in a moment of sheer insanity.
She chewed her sandwich and wondered what the hell she was doing. Her life had turned inside out in a matter of days. She didn’t know which end was up. Now here she was with her childhood nemesis, the boy turned man who had taken every opportunity to make her miserable.
Then he’d apologized. Apologized! He’d appeared genuinely contrite and he didn’t act like the Laz of old. No, he was a very serious, gruff man. Not the devil-may-care boy who burned the earth behind him as he flitted from prank to prank.
She wasn’t the same girl either. The responsibility of the store, the death of her parents, and the loss of her dreams had all conspired together to turn her life in another direction.