by Angi Morgan
Kenderly only relaxed a little. This time when her eyes closed, they were burning with tears for Isabella. No one deserved to die that way.
He was right. Her hero. They couldn’t stop. Her unnamed rescuer popped over curbs, into a parking lot and on to the street. He ran stop signs, passed other cars as if they were standing still and just kept going.
Once on Highway 71 leading back to Austin, he wrapped his long fingers around her thigh and gently tugged her close again. His subtle message was that their wild ride wasn’t over. She moved, resting her head once more on his back. They rocketed through the wind, which didn’t allow for talking.
She couldn’t have answered any of his questions or any of the thousands running through her mind. Isabella had given her a small jewelry case and told her not to open it for three days.
Oh no! The case! She’d dropped it somewhere. She’d been so out of it by losing her cookies all over the guard’s feet that she’d forgotten. What had Isabella not wanted anyone to know? Why was she supposed to wait three days? Kenderly wasn’t sure she’d ever know now.
Her hero stroked her frozen forearm, slowly warming it back to life against his chest. When she cried harder, he held on to her hands tighter.
It didn’t matter who he was. He’d probably saved her life. Okay, he’d definitely saved her life. But that was only one reason she was thankful. The stranger’s actions in the past few minutes were more intimacy and kindness than she’d felt in years.
Chapter Two
The arm under Garrison’s hand was no longer frozen. Early spring in Texas was fine with lots of sunshine on you, but once it got dark—and speeding in excess of seventy miles per hour—you could get chilled to the bone.
“You can let me off anywhere,” she said as he slowly merged with city traffic near the university hangouts.
“I don’t think so, sweetie. No discussion necessary.” He sped up again to limit the conversation.
“But I need to go back. I have to.”
Darting between stopped cars, the horns blared as he pushed safely through red lights. He had to keep moving, so she couldn’t jump off. Go back? She was the ranger’s big break, and he couldn’t let her disappear.
“Let me go at the next corner, or I’ll start screaming my head off,” she shouted, piercing his ear.
“We have a head start, but we’re still being followed.” It was logical to think so. There was only one road back to Austin from the crime scene. It didn’t make sense that Tenoreno’s men would give up because of a row of trees. He slowed the bike to a more normal speed. “After I rescued you and everything, screaming just wouldn’t be cool.”
“Neither is kidnapping.”
“Come on, Kenderly. We both know I’m not kidnapping you. I saved your a— I got you out of there safely,” he amended. “Why the hell do you want to go back?”
“I appreciate it. I really do. But there’s something I... I just want to go home.” She sat straighter, pulling away from him.
He immediately missed her soft breasts pushed against his back. He needed both hands to control the bike, or he’d pull her closer again. Instead he pulled into a parking lot, darted to the side of the building and cut the engine. He twisted a bit on the seat to face her and reached into his pocket.
“Is this what you need to go back for?” He held up the smaller case he’d picked up from her seat. “The purse strap got stuck on the gear shift. I couldn’t get that. You tossed this to me at the balcony.”
“Oh my God, thank you so much.” She reached for it, but he kept it high above her head.
“I’m thinking I should have a look inside.”
“No. You don’t understand. It isn’t mine.”
“Then I especially need to look inside.”
“Just who do you think you are? A hotshot waiter with a fast motorcycle has no right—”
“Lieutenant Garrison Travis, Company F, Texas Rangers. Temporarily on assignment in Austin.” He wanted to pop whatever lock was on that case, but he didn’t have anything with him. “I’m sorry that you can’t go home. They’ll be waiting there. They know who you are.”
“But I didn’t do anything.” She grabbed his upper arm. Her hand shook a bit. She was either shivering in her short sleeves or from the shock of everything that had happened.
“They don’t know that. Plus, you saw the killer.” He shrugged out of his split jacket and flipped it around her shoulders, holding it until she slipped her arms through the sleeves. “You’re coming home with me. It’s your only option.”
“Are you crazy? I don’t know you. Where’s your ID? Just take me to the nearest police station, and we can tell them what we saw.” She swung her leg over the back of the bike and took off. “They’ll protect me if I need it.”
“I can help you,” he called after her. “And that’s smart, asking for my ID. But I don’t carry it while I’m undercover.”
“You did help, and I thank you. But the police need to know what I witnessed. I’m sure I broke a law or something leaving the scene of a crime.” She backed up across the run-down parking lot in a short fancy skirt and his torn tux jacket. She might trip in her heels. “Why are you shaking your head at me?”
“Come on, get back on the bike.” He threw one of his best smiles at her, attempting to make his witness feel more comfortable. But she wasn’t reacting like the rest of the women in his life.
Maybe because she’d just seen two of her friends executed, and someone was trying to kill her. Maybe he should change tactics.
“No.”
“Well, I’ll need my jacket. It’s a rental.” Fortunately, he’d dropped the murder weapon in the cycle’s saddlebags, so it was safe. He dug his cell from his front pants pocket. “I’m going to dial a number, and you can confirm my identity. Then I’m taking you to my place.”
Garrison was afraid she’d break her neck running away from him if he got off the bike and chased her. He stayed put, got the number and pressed dial. He heard his captain answer, pressed speaker and told him, “Hang on.” Then he extended the phone to his witness.
For some crazy reason, she walked back to him and took the phone. “Hello?”
“This is Captain Aiden Oaks, Texas Rangers. Who is this? Why do you have Travis’s phone?”
She shrugged, searching him for answers. Garrison pointed to it and made a talk symbol with his hand.
“Someone handed it to me. Are you really a Texas Ranger? Is he?”
Garrison took the keys, opened the saddlebag, dropped the case inside and locked it. What was coming next would be pleasant for Kenderly, but not so much when Garrison confronted the captain.
“Is the smart-ass who handed you the cell riding a motorcycle, wearing a tuxedo and got a smart-alecky grin on his face?”
“I think so.”
“Lieutenant Garrison Travis didn’t have identification with him, miss. Did he call to assure you of something?”
She hung up and walked the phone back to him. “He says you have a smart-alecky smile. He’s right.”
“Ouch. I’ve been told this smile was reassuring. Ready to come home with me now?”
Kenderly had been through a sick ordeal and needed a lot more help than he could provide. The first step was getting her under the protection of the Rangers. And for that to happen, he had to find out exactly what she’d seen and what was in that case.
He braced the bike while she hopped on the back again. He moved his hand to bring her closer, then thought better of it, speaking over his shoulder. “You can trust me, Kenderly.”
“No more running red lights.”
“Not a prob.”
“And you promise that I’ll be safer with you than with the police?”
“You’ve got my word as a Texas Ranger. Nothing’ll happen to you w
hile you’re with me.” He started the bike and rejoined traffic before she realized he was a complete stranger and decided to yell for help. She didn’t yell. She only cooperated.
Kenderly was too trusting. Or playing him.
Witness or perpetrator? He had a lightbulb moment of his own. He hadn’t seen the actual shooting. He couldn’t swear who pulled that trigger. The makeup artist could have unlocked the balcony doors and let the monkey-suit guy inside.
Maybe he was protecting an accomplice?
Not a chance. There was no blood spatter on her clothes. She couldn’t have been near the fatal shots. He’d find out all the details when they got to his house. Just a couple of minutes and they’d be safe.
The small jewelry box would have to wait until he was at his place. He needed to ask her about everything, but was certain Captain Oaks would want to be there for the questioning.
Turning down Forty-first, he replayed the scene in his head, searching through his memory for what the murderer looked like. Approximately the same height as him, so the guy had to be six-one, maybe more. Brown eyes, huge nose that protruded under the hood. He didn’t have much to go on, but the man’s shoes weren’t from a rental company like the tux.
Garrison had rented enough times to know how unforgiving a new pair of rental dress shoes were. Or how the older ones looked scuffed no matter how hard you shined. This guy was wearing his own.
He pulled to a stop in his driveway. Then he mentally brought up the image of the man in black. He’d turned to him—surprised someone had entered Mrs. Tenoreno’s bedroom—guilty.
Blood. Bright dark spots that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else shone all over the black tux. He was confident he’d interrupted the gunman before he pulled the trigger on a third victim. Kenderly was a state’s witness.
Kenderly was off the back of the bike before he’d cut the engine. He popped the kickstand, tugging her to him. He might be confident she wasn’t the murderer, but he wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t run down the street hollering for help.
“Mind if I take the jacket back?”
Delicately, treating the ripped tux like an expensive designer jacket, she folded it in half and handed it to him. He tossed open the saddlebag and removed the gun, wrapping it protectively in the jacket’s folds, then setting it on the bike seat along with the case. The evidence couldn’t be out of his line of sight, and this was the best he could do. He unlocked the detached garage and lifted the heavy door, then rolled his bike inside and reversed the procedure.
“I think I have a couple of sodas inside and maybe a frozen pizza.”
“I can’t possibly eat.” Her hand covered her lips.
“How about some soup, then? I got a cabinet of the stuff.”
“Really, I’m fine.” She shook her head and preceded him up the steps. “What I really need is a toothbrush.”
“Got you covered. My aunt has extras from visits with her dentist. She’s visiting my mom.” If he could remember where she’d put them.
“Oh.” She tugged at her hair, trying to smooth tangle upon wind-massacred tangle.
His Aunt Brenda’s house was on the small side. What most people might call cozy. Just right for one bachelor ranger who wasn’t home half the time. That is, if he really lived in Austin. He was on temporary assignment and shared a place in Waco. He opened the door and prepared for the assault.
“Hey, I forgot to ask. Do you like dogs?”
Both his monsters slid across the old linoleum, tongues out, ready to jump on their visitor, expecting a treat. Before he could yell at them to get down, Garrison set the coat-wrapped gun on the counter. He knelt at the pups’ level, taking one dog under either arm.
“I adore dogs. Are they Labs? What are their names? They’re so sweet.” Kenderly brightened and dropped to her knees with him.
“Diabolical is more like it. Don’t turn your back on them for a minute. This big black boy is Bear. The chocolate pup is his half sister, Clementine.” He reached up and pulled treats from a jar, handing them to his guest. “They’ll do tricks for these.”
She sat at the kitchen table, patiently petting the panting Labradors. “Clementine isn’t exactly what I’d call a puppy.”
“Sit, Clem. Bear, you know better than that.” He used hand signals to get them to sit, wanting to show them off. “She’s barely a year old. Already seventy pounds of love. I didn’t know how long I’d be here, and these two sort of go berserk if I don’t check in every day. Excuse me while I make a phone call.”
He dialed, then retrieved a new Ziploc from the cabinet while he waited for the captain to answer. “Travis? I guess the party blew to hell?”
“Yes, sir. So you’ve heard. The beautician, Kenderly Tyler, witnessed the whole thing. I stopped the murderer from blowing—” He darted a look at the woman he’d rescued to see if she’d heard his slip. “I stopped him from having a third victim. We came straight here. I didn’t think you’d want anyone to know we have her in custody.”
Kenderly got the dogs another treat and repeated his hand commands to them.
“You think she’s reliable?”
“As far as I can tell. I also have the murder weapon.” He placed the gun inside the bag. “It should take you about forty minutes to get here, sir. See you then.” He dropped his phone on the counter, and Clementine nudged the back of his knee. “Oh no, you don’t. Christy fed you an hour ago.”
“Where’s the bath, and do you have a first-aid kit?”
“You okay?” During the call, she’d taken a paper towel from the roll he left on the table and started dabbing at her legs. “Obviously not. Those from the trees we brushed through?”
“Yes. My legs started stinging on the golfing green.”
“Let me get something.”
The house really was super small. Keeping the medicine cabinet mirror open, he could still see the kitchen table. Bear was spread-eagle on the floor waiting for some more attention. Kenderly was staring at the gun and not moving. He dug through the antibiotic creams, looking for something without an expired date. No luck.
“I found some cotton, alcohol and peroxide. Best I can do.” He knelt and took a look at the long scratch at the top of her thigh.
“It’ll be fine.” Kenderly’s soft voice matched her dainty frame and manner.
“Need a belt to bite down on?”
She looked a bit confused. Instead of explaining, he poured the bottles over the scratches. Her tanned thigh used to be completely smooth, not even a freckle.
The deep scratches would cause the peroxide to sting—a lot. Garrison fanned at her leg, and she shut her eyes. He leaned in close and blew across the peroxide bubbles, hoping to ease the pain.
“How could I have gotten into this mess?” She fanned her cheeks in a motion his sister used years ago when trying not to cry. “When I woke up this morning, I never imagined I’d have two dogs at my feet, be sitting in a funny little kitchen with peroxide dripping down my thigh and have a complete stranger blowing up my skirt.”
“I don’t really know what to say after that.” He choked to keep from busting out laughing. Two Band-Aids across the deepest scratch and they were done.
She covered her face, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to complain about a scratch when Isabella... She’s... Oh, gosh, I can’t stay here.”
Garrison lifted her to her feet, against his chest and into his arms. “Go ahead and cry. I won’t stop you. You’re safe here.” He couldn’t just tell her she would be okay. He had to make her feel as though she was safe, and he didn’t know another way.
She shoved at his shoulders, and he let her go. “What am I doing here? If they’re following us, how can we possibly be safe?”
“You witnessed a murder, and we need to get your statement. The captain will be here soon, and we’ll h
ave some decisions. Until then, let’s wait in the other room.”
He led the way to the living area, just big enough for a small couch, arm chair and a television that covered most of the end wall. He loved that television and would be hauling it back to Waco after this assignment.
“Why did he shoot them?” Kenderly sat and dropped her head in her hands. “He was going to kill me, too. Wasn’t he?”
“I think so.”
“Why did he kill them?”
“That’s what I’m hoping you can help us with, Kenderly.”
“Why were you there?” She looked up quickly, accusing him of something without a word.
He flattened his lips shut and shook his head. He couldn’t tell her that he was undercover tonight after an anonymous tip let them know there’d be trouble. He should have gotten the women extracted earlier instead of waiting for the cover of darkness. They’d been hoping to turn one of the families against the other. Instead, both had been hit.
“Let’s start with how you knew Isabella Tenoreno.”
“She came once a week into the shop where I have a chair. Wednesday she said she was having a party today and asked if I could come. I do hair and makeup for private events. This was a little different since she invited me to attend. I ended up doing her friend Trinity’s hair, too.”
Trinity Rosco, the wife of the rival crime family. Garrison noticed how stiff Kenderly had become. She was a terrible liar. So there was more to her story than she was letting on. “What happened after that?”
“I was gathering my things and cleaning my brushes in the bathroom. I heard something break, and Trinity screamed. At least I think it was her. The man, he already had the gun out and told them both to get to their knees.”
“What language?”
“English.”
“Why didn’t he see you?”
“I saw the gun first thing, so I didn’t open the door all the way. I should have. I should have done something. Maybe they’d still be alive.” She covered her face with her hands again, crying this time.