Maybe.
Then again, he already had his doubts about her ability to be here on this case by herself. If he thought she felt the need to report in to him to take a swim, he really would think she was in over her head.
Gisella scoffed. She’d been doing just fine all alone. She didn’t need him as a keeper. She ignored the small voice that said perhaps it was just common courtesy to let him know where she was going and assured herself that she was only going to be a few minutes. Besides, it was late. She didn’t want to wake him if he was sleeping.
She was quite confident in her ability to take care of herself—and she didn’t plan on staying long.
Opening the door, she made her way down the sidewalk and headed toward the office, keeping an eye out for the pool sign.
As she walked, out of habit, she scanned the area, taking full advantage of the meager lighting the hotel offered. With surprise she noted how neat everything was. The trimmed bushes, the overpowering smell of freshly-spread mulch. She paused. Who laid mulch in January?
Interesting.
The silence tickled her ears.
Nothing moved in the darkness.
A room door clicked shut somewhere behind her and she turned to look over her shoulder.
Nothing.
Her stomach twisted as she took in the quiet night. At home, she tended to enjoy the darkness, the quiet peacefulness that came with the setting sun.
Here, she felt exposed in the openness, wishing she had some kind of cover to hide behind. Hugging the building, she hurried along. She wondered if she should have brought her weapon with her. But she’d left it in the room, not wanting to leave it lying out of reach while she was in the pool.
Now, she was thinking that leaving it behind might not have been a good idea.
Sudden laughter spilled from the balcony above and she felt her muscles relax. Slightly. The two college guys had the door to their room open allowing bits and pieces of conversation to drift down to her. Absently, she thought they must be crazy to have the door open on a cold night like tonight, but to each his own, she supposed.
The feeling of being watched lingered and she shivered. Looking around netted her nothing new.
Taking the sidewalk in front of the office building, she saw the sign indicating the pool facility. A concrete structure, it had small horizontal windows running along the length at the very top. The double glass doors that led to the interior were tinted and—she tried one—unlocked.
Slipping inside, she saw she was the only one there. She supposed those who had come to swim had done so earlier in the day.
There weren’t that many people in the small hotel. She and Brock had done their homework on the ride over from the restaurant. The other occupants consisted of a family of three who had one room at the end of the building, an elderly couple in the room above hers and a couple of college kids passing through Boot Hill on their way to a family funeral. And that was it. Which suited her just fine.
Gisella found the changing room. Chlorine assaulted her nose and a tingle of anticipation crept up her spine. At home, she had an inground heated pool that she used at every opportunity.
If she was home, that was daily. If she was on a case, she found the nearest pool to work off the stress. If she couldn’t swim, she’d go for a run, but she preferred the peaceful feel of the water.
With one foot, she tested the temperature.
Perfect. Who would have thought this small-town hotel would have an adequate pool like this?
Gisella walked to the deep end and looked down. More meager lighting, she thought ruefully. There were underwater lights, but they didn’t do much more than offer a faint glow. She didn’t care. With a push of her feet, she plunged into the warm depths.
With each stroke she felt the stress of the day slide from her. Her strong arms ate up the distance and soon she flipped and pushed off from the other end.
Brock Martin. DEA. A bit on the rough side. A risk-taker.
A good-looking man that made her heart do things it hadn’t done in a really long time. Not since Andre. A mistake she’d promised herself she wouldn’t repeat. He’d been a hard worker, a fellow Highway Patrol.
And he’d hated that her goal was to become a Ranger. He’d felt threatened by her skills and her determination to achieve her goals. So, he’d left her. But not before Gisella had learned a lesson. Steer clear of men whose egos couldn’t handle a woman in her position. And don’t be sucked in by a pretty face.
Brock definitely fell into the pretty-face category.
But was there more to him than his looks?
She had a feeling she would be finding that out during the course of the investigation.
Lord, keep us safe. Help us find Greg’s murderer and stop more innocent people from dying.
As she swam, she prayed. A habit she’d started in her teen years before her brother, José, had died. After his death, she’d been mad at God for a long time, but found swimming and praying helped. Soon, she’d made her peace with God, but not with the drugs that killed José.
His death had made her what she was today.
Finally, she tired and decided to call it quits.
Just as she reached the side to pull herself out, she felt something encircle her wrist.
FOUR
Adrenaline spiking, she twisted her wrist, grasped the hand that held her and yanked. She was rewarded with a resounding splash behind her. Sputtering, her feet touching bottom, she whirled to see Brock treading water, his jaw tight, his face grim.
“What in the world is wrong with you?” she gasped.
“You could let a partner know where you’re going.”
Gisella stared at him, words failing her. She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t report to you.”
His jaw didn’t soften, but she thought his eyes did. A fraction. “No, you don’t. And I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I called your name twice, you were so lost in your water world, you didn’t hear me.” He moved to the shallow end and got his footing.
Shock zipped up her spine. Swallowing hard, Gisella wilted against the side of the pool. “Really?”
“Yeah. That’s not safe. You need to be more aware.”
Her pride stung. He was right. When she swam, she tuned everything out. At home, she had her security system. Here, it was just her and Brock against the town of Boot Hill. At least that was what it felt like.
Gisella hauled herself out of the pool. Brock followed her. He tossed her a towel and she buried her face in it, buying time. But there was only one thing she could say. “You’re right.”
Her soft answer wiped out his anger. “Oh. Okay then. Good.” Clearing his throat, he admitted with a rueful smile, “I have to admit, you have great reflexes and reaction skills.”
Gisella gave a small laugh and shook her head. “At home, I swim all the time. I don’t think about work or the danger or…” She pulled in a breath. “I was wrong. I don’t have that option here. I should have told you what I was doing.” She changed the subject. “What made you come looking for me?”
“I heard someone at my door. I thought it might be you.”
She frowned. “Someone with the wrong room?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. Thinking it was you, I called out that I was coming. By the time I looked out the window, whoever was there was gone. I went back inside and called your room. When you didn’t answer, I got a little concerned.”
“So you checked the pool?”
“It seemed logical. You said you liked to swim off stress and the hotel has a pool.”
Gisella felt her insides warm. He was worried about her. Part of her appreciated it. The other was embarrassed that he’d called her out on her carelessness. But she considered herself a big girl. She could handle it. “You need to get your gun dried out.”
He quirked a smile as he looked down at his sopping clothes. “Along with everything else.”
Standing, she wrapped the towel around her. “Let me change int
o dry clothes. Once I get back to my room, I promise to stay there, all right?”
He smiled. “Sure.”
She gave him a head-to-toe glance. “You’re going to freeze on the walk back.”
Brock shrugged. “I’ll live.”
A few minutes later she’d changed back into her clothes, pulled her hair up and wrapped the towel around it. On the trek back to her room, she noticed the stillness that hung heavy in the dark air.
She shivered. Not just from the cold, but from the feeling that eyes watched her progress. Again.
Brock walked silently beside her, tension emanating from him along with the occasional shiver. He hunched his shoulders and picked up the pace.
“You feel it here, too, don’t you?” she asked.
“It’s too quiet,” he agreed in almost a whisper. “Crickets should be chirping. There should be some kind of night sounds.”
“But there’s not. It’s totally creepy.” She paused in front of her door. “Thanks.”
“For?” He lifted a brow in amusement.
She huffed. “You know what for.”
Brock smiled and gave a small bow—followed by a racking shudder. “My pleasure.”
Without thinking, she reached up and touched his mouth with a forefinger. “Your lips are blue.”
His eyes narrowed. “I can think of a great way to warm them.”
Gisella breathed a laugh. “I bet you can. Good night, Brock.”
Within seconds, she let herself into her room. “Whew.” She liked him. A lot.
But she really didn’t need to flirt with him. Not when he had doubts about her.
Powering down the computer she hadn’t touched, she felt anger begin to burn. Anger with herself.
She’d been careless, thoughtless.
Even though there’d been no direct threats made against her or Brock, she’d ignored her instincts and pushed aside her internal warnings. She could have put herself in danger.
Vowing not to make that mistake again, she walked to the window and gently pushed aside the curtain to look out.
Brock’s car sat four doors down, right where he’d left it.
Nothing moved outside that she could see.
So what was her anxiety all about?
After checking the safety on her weapon, she slid it under her pillow. Exhaustion pounded on her and without bothering to dry her hair, she stretched out on the bed. More prayers drifted heavenward as she thought about her fellow Rangers back in San Antonio working the case from their end.
So much heartache had occurred because of the Lions—and yet the case had brought a lot of good people together, too, such as Ben and Corinna.
She flipped over and closed her eyes.
Would this case bring her and Brock together? Or in the end push them far apart?
Only time would tell.
The next thing she knew, she jerked awake, heart pounding. She’d fallen asleep fully clothed as she often did at home. Never a good sleeper, if she got sleepy on the couch, that’s where she stayed.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she sat there and listened. What had awakened her?
The sound of a car door slamming? Not so unusual. She was at a hotel. But no, that wasn’t it.
Another sound. A loud whoosh.
Outside her door? No, but close.
Shrugging off the fog of sleep, she moved toward the window.
Pushing the curtain aside, she gasped at the flames spurting from Brock’s vehicle.
FIVE
Brock jolted at the sound of the explosion and raced for the door. Yanking it open, he and several other onlookers, the few hotel guests and a homeowner from across the street, gaped.
His car spewed flames. The night clerk, Steve, stood with a phone in his hand shaking his head at the sight.
Sirens sounded in the distance and Brock turned to see Gisella standing in her doorway watching the burning vehicle through narrowed eyes. If her jaw got any tighter, it would shatter.
Walking over, he reached out to grip her bicep. She jerked and looked at him. Leaning over, he said in her ear, “Scan the crowd. Do you see anyone who looks satisfied? Like he’s just done a good job?”
“Just the clerk,” she muttered.
Brock had to admit, she was right. The clerk, still on the phone, listened to something his caller said and laughed, shooting a smirk in Brock’s and Gisella’s direction. “This town sure doesn’t seem to like outsiders, does it?”
Drawing in a deep breath, she planted her hands on her hips. “Apparently not.” A small tight smile curved her lips, but didn’t reach her eyes. “We’ve only been in town a couple of hours and we’ve already made someone nervous.”
“Seriously nervous,” Brock muttered, watching, scanning, looking for anyone who looked suspicious. Even though he’d parked four doors down, the heat reached him and he stepped back, pulling Gisella with him out of reach of the expanding fire.
“So, this is a warning,” she said. A statement, not a question.
“Oh, yeah. They’re letting us know they’re not happy we’re here.” He shifted for a better angle of the corner of the building to his left. Was that simply a shadow? Nope, it moved. Shadows only moved when someone made them move.
From the corner of his eye, he caught her frown. She muttered, “I don’t want to say they’re all stupid, but blowing up our car sure isn’t going to make me want to leave. In fact, it just makes me want to find who did this even more.” The hard set to her jaw told him more than words. She had a stubborn streak as big as his.
Brock narrowed his eyes on the shape in the distance. It moved again. “Exactly. Looks like we’re on the right track.”
“So, you wanna stick around town a little longer?” she drawled as she crossed her arms in front of her.
Fire trucks pulled into the hotel parking lot and the firemen got busy.
“Like you told the sheriff, for as long as it takes.” He frowned. “I’m surprised they have a fire department.”
“Probably strictly volunteer,” she muttered. “You know this isn’t going to be the last warning we get.”
“Nope. They know that we now know that they don’t want us here. We’re going to have to be extra careful until we figure out who’s friend and who’s foe.”
“Whatever you’re staring at—is he a friend or a foe?”
Brock cut his eyes to her. So, she’d already learned to read him pretty well. Nonplussed, he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “That’s what I’ve been wondering. Want to go find out?”
“After you.”
As inconspicuously as possible, Brock headed in the direction of the person he’d seen watching. A person who appeared to be attempting to melt into the shadows, not wanting to be noticed.
If that person were innocent, why hide in the shadows and watch? Why not come closer and join the rapidly expanding crowd?
Aware of Gisella right behind him, he unholstered his weapon. She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and tossed him a charming smile causing his heart to two-step a happy dance. “Act like you’re not watching him,” she gritted through the smile.
He felt the flush creep up under his collar and was grateful for the darkness and poorly lit walkway. Her hand felt like it might burn a hole through his shirt. He leaned closer to act like he might say something to her while keeping his eyes on the spot where he saw the shadow. “You see him?” he whispered.
“Yes.”
And so did Brock. The shadow moved once more, then running footsteps reached his ears.
Gisella released his arm like it singed her, and yelled, “Freeze! Texas Ranger!” To Brock, she said, “He’s got a ski mask on and he’s heading for the back alley.”
She took off after the fleeing individual.
Brock bolted after her, rounding the corner of the building and ignoring the smell of rotting refuse. What if the man had a gun? A knife? More of whatever he used to set the car on fire?
Gut churni
ng, he pumped his legs faster and rounded another corner to see Gisella leap over a heap of trash in one smooth move. A dim light at the back of the hotel illuminated the area enough that he could make out the man ahead of her.
Brock watched him slam into the eight-foot-high chain-link fence and climb it like he’d practiced doing it a few hundred times.
Gisella hit the fence to climb after the man, her movements not quite as smooth. Then she seemed to hit her stride, caught up, and got a hand on his ankle.
Brock waited at the foot of the fence fully expecting her to yank the man off balance. Instead, the fleeing suspect’s foot shot out and caught Gisella in the side of her head. She gave a muffled yelp and released her grip to fall straight toward Brock.
For the brief moment she hung suspended in midair, Gisella wondered how bad the impact with the asphalt was going to hurt.
Then something caught her around the waist and she landed with a thud.
On something softer than the ground, but hard enough to knock the breath out of her.
Stunned, she simply lay there. As she was finally able to pull in a lung full of air, she became aware of a rhythmic thumping against her left ear.
Brock.
Gasping, she scrambled to the side.
He gave a wheezing cough and asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” She pulled in a steadying breath. “At least, I think so. Are you?”
He sat up and flexed his arms. “Looks like it.” He eyed her. “For a skinny little thing, you sure are solid.”
She narrowed her gaze on him. “You want the breath knocked out of you again?”
Holding up his hands in mock horror, he drew in another breath. “No, ma’am. Once a day is plenty for me.”
Gisella got to her feet and glared at the fence in disgust. Only then did the pounding in her right temple register. She winced and pressed a hand to the area. No blood. That was good. “I’d call for help, but I figure that guy is long gone by now.” She paused. “And I left my cell phone in the room.”
She looked up to see Brock’s concerned gaze on her, all teasing gone. “I left mine, too. Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
Threat of Exposure Page 4