by Becky McGraw
As she stood beside him and watched the van disappear into the road between the trees, he looked at her and said, “Thanks for helping with them, Red.”
“I didn’t do it to help you. I wanted—want to help them,” she informed shortly.
Shortness is all he’d gotten from her since the other night in the bedroom. Her attitude was practically glacial toward him now. Yeah, it helped him keep his hands off of her, and so did avoiding her by staying in his room. But all that did was give him too much time to think. And worry. The two times he’d wandered into the dining room to ask what they had found in those files all she’d given him was vague answers.
Now that the women were gone, and Ray Brown was in custody, with the exception of Leland, his obstructions to leaving were gone. Knowing Leland, he would come out smelling like a rose. Dave hadn’t been able to get Ray Brown to talk before he turned him over to the Rangers. He thought Leland was going to get him out of the situation, and he could well be right there. But Trace knew firsthand that Leland took care of himself first. If push came to shove, he would throw Ray Brown under the bus in a heartbeat.
Trace had given Ronnie two weeks, she’d used only one week of that now, but he needed to either start seeing that she was making progress, or he needed to make plans to leave. Wasting time here wasn’t going to do him a damned bit of good. He felt sure Dave would agree, and would help him regardless of whether he stayed the full two weeks.
“What have you found in the files so far?”
“A good bit,” she replied with a tight smile.
“That’s not good enough to keep me here,” he said knowing that would get a rise out of her. “I need to know what’s going on.”
“Too bad. Leave if you want, and I will too,” she said with a shrug as she spun on her heel toward the house.
Her foot was on the first step of the porch when he grabbed her arm. “Dammit, talk to me. I need to know what you found.”
“I’ll let you know when I know. Your mother, Lou Ellen and I have been working our asses off to piece things together. If you don’t have faith that we’ll figure this out, I can’t stop you from leaving.”
“What is Conner doing?” he asked. Trace hadn’t seen him around all day.
She shrugged again. “I sent him back to town to pull the files from the Coroner’s office on Sean’s autopsy. He forgot to get those on the first go round.”
“They know he was pulling those files!” Trace shouted and she jumped.
She unfolded her arms, and her amber eyes filled with concern. “Who knows?”
“Leland and Talmedge Bartlett! And I’m sure the partners in your firm know now too,” Trace said with a frustrated sigh.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me that?” she asked.
Trace shook his head at their lack of communication. “I thought Dave told you. He thinks both you and Conner should stay here until you finish your investigation.”
“Dave knows too?” she asked in a voice an octave higher than normal.
“He’s the one who told me.”
“He hasn’t been around here enough in the last few days to tell me anything. How did you think we were going to communicate, telepathy? I don’t have a phone remember?”
Frustration and irritation built inside of his chest. “I know you’re a pretty resourceful woman, Ronnie,” Trace said folding his arms over his chest. “And when the hell have you ever listened to anyone anyway?”
“You said don’t use the land line, and I haven’t. I might be hardheaded, but I don’t have a death wish,” she said, then added sarcastically, “And besides I’ve been busy if you haven’t noticed.”
Arguing wasn’t getting them anywhere, but at least she was talking to him now. “I’ve noticed you spinning your wheels in there, but you haven’t mentioned making any headway. I think it’s because you see I’m right. You’re not going to find anything.”
“I beg to differ. We’ve found a lot. More than enough.”
She was still hedging. There was something she didn’t want to tell him that was obvious. “Enough for what? What did you find?” he pressed.
“I need to call Conner before he steps off into a hornet’s nest without seeing it,” she said holding out her hand. “Give me your phone.”
“Don’t deflect, Ronnie. I asked a question. Answer it and I’ll let you use my phone,” Trace said instead of giving her the phone.
“You’re blackmailing me with the phone? With Conner’s safety?” she spat angrily. “I’ll just use the land line, or borrow your mother’s cell phone,” she said as she turned and stomped up to the front door.
“No!” Trace shouted and ran behind her. “My mother has been digging through Leland’s bank records. They could be tracking her cell phone pings too. Use my phone.”
He handed her his phone. “Call and tell him not to come back here,” Trace said.
“Why? I need those files, and I need his help,” she replied.
“He’ll have to scan them and email them to you. If he comes back out here, since they already know he was copying files, someone could follow him.” If they put a GPS tracker on my bike, they wouldn’t hesitate to do that to Conner’s car too. And from his detective days, Trace knew how easy tracking cell phone pings were.
Ronnie groaned and slapped her forehead. “This gets better and better.”
“Sorry, Red. I’m just trying to protect us.”
Her eyes widened and flew to his. “What about Conner? Won’t he be in danger in town?” she asked with a waver in her voice he could only account to fear.
“Tell him to find somewhere out of town to hide out until this blows over or blows up,” he suggested. Ronnie is the one who had stirred up the hornet’s nest with her investigation. He was afraid Conner Lucas was already surrounded by them, and the best thing he could do was run for the hills now. But not here.
Even though paperwork in any way shape or form gave him hives, he offered impulsively, “I’ll help you dig through the files.”
At least that would give him something to do, and it would make it harder for the women to hide what they found from him. He could find his answers to help him make his decision. Besides he was bored stiff just sitting around.
Ronnie snorted. “If I recall from our meetings at the jail, your lack of documentation is what got you in the mess you’re in now.”
“I only lacked documentation because someone made it disappear. But whoever replaced it with their own documentation to make sure I went to jail sure did a bang up job of it.”
“Well, let’s go find out who that someone is and get this over with, so we can both get our lives back,” she said twisting the door knob.
Two days later, Trace was tempted to pull the gun out of the waistband of his pants and either blow his brains out, or shoot Ronnie Winters. The woman was an abrasive, slave-driving bitch on mission to find the truth at the expense of his sanity evidently.
“Pull that log from Judge Jennings again,” she ordered. “I need to cross-check it against this one from the prosecutor.”
“Aye, aye, General,” he said snapping off a salute that ended with his middle finger pointed directly at her.
Lou Ellen and his mother must’ve missed it, but Ronnie didn’t. Her eyes sparked angrily as she replied, “Aye, is a nautical term, and General is an army rank. Either call me Admiral, or General. Get your branches right, and get your ass moving.”
“How the hell would you know,” he grumbled, as he bent to pull the file out of the box beside him.
“My brother was in the service for a long time. Dave was too,” she replied tapping her pen on the yellow legal pad on the table in front of her.
“I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“Yep, his name is Cade. He left the military, and now he’s a blood-thirsty mercenary,” she informed with a smirk. Ronnie Winter’s brother wasn’t so far removed from her in personality, Trace thought nastily, as he handed her the file.
�
�My maid informed me this morning that I received an invitation in the mail from Leland Rooks,” Lou Ellen informed them out of the blue, after she ripped the calculator tape from the top of the adding machine in front of her.
Trace’s eyes flew to hers. “Oh yeah? What kind of invitation?”
She looked at him over the rim of the tortoise half-eye glasses perched halfway down her nose and said, “An invitation to one of his fundraising parties next week in Dallas at your mother’s house.”
Trace looked at his mother and she shrugged. “It’s not my house anymore. I’m making him sell it. One of his ladies must be arranging the party, since I’m not there to babysit him. I’d like to see what the end result is,” she said with a mean laugh. “That man wouldn’t even have ten cents to run his campaign if I hadn’t squeezed it out of the people at those parties.”
“Where does Leland keep his records he doesn’t want anyone to see?” Ronnie asked suddenly.
“In the safe in his office at home,” Allison replied.
“Do you have access to it?” Ronnie asked in a rush.
“I don’t have the combination if that’s what you mean, but I’m sure I could figure it out. His memory sucks, so he always uses dates he can remember for his PIN codes and combinations. His birthday, social security number, his girlfriend’s phone number. Those change so much it might make it difficult, but if the first two things don’t work, I can find his little black book or his appointment calendar.”
“Does he keep his appointment calendars from year to year?” Ronnie asked and Trace heard the excitement in her voice.
“Yeah, but he documents most of the appointments in his own version of shorthand. I don’t know how much help they would be,” Allison said with a short laugh.
“Can you read it?” Ronnie asked.
“Some of it, but Talmadge Bartlett knows it all. It was his idea that they use code.”
“He’s not in town,” Trace blurted then pinned Ronnie with his eyes. “And there’s no way in hell I’m letting my mother go to that party. Leland probably wouldn’t let her in anyway.”
“I could go,” Lou Ellen piped up. “Leland Rooks doesn’t scare me. I could put a bullet between that smarmy bastard’s eyes before he blinked. And would enjoy doing it.”
“You carry?” Trace asked with a laugh. He never knew that about his mother’s best friend. The woman who had been almost like an aunt to him his whole life talked a good game, was always vocal with her opinions, but he had never seen her handle a firearm.
“I’m a card carrying member of the NRA,” she said proudly. “A woman can never be too careful these days.” Lou Ellen looked at Allison. “I tried to get your mother to take the classes, but she was too timid back then.”
Lou Ellen was a good woman, but she always got his mother in trouble of one kind or another. Trace was glad she’d refused to take those classes. Even if she had taken them and had a pistol, she probably wouldn’t have the guts to pull the trigger if she was ever in the position to need to do it. That could be worse than her not having a gun.
“Let’s play it by ear. I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You picked up those bank records for Mama. Leland could be on to you too. Walking into that party could put you in danger whether you’re carrying or not,” Trace said.
“What’s life without a little danger,” Lou Ellen replied with a wink.
That woman was definitely trouble with a capital T. “We have a week to weed through the information we already have. Let’s see where we are next week, then we’ll decide.”
“Who put you in charge?” Ronnie asked tapping her expensive pen on the pad again. It was the same pen she had at the jailhouse. The same one he’d used to ask her to give him a blow job under the table. His jeans got tighter at the thought of her on her knees under the table right now.
“Someone has to take the lead,” he said calmly.
Ronnie threw her pen down on her pad and leaned back in the chair to fold her arms over her chest. “And you think that should be you, why?”
Because he couldn’t resist, Trace’s arm shot across the table and he grabbed her pen. She made a swipe to stop him, but missed. He sat back in his chair and twirled it through his fingers. One side of his mouth kicked up. “You want answers, Red. You know how to get them.”
Her face flushed and her eyes darted to his mother, then back to him. “I don’t have time for your games, Trace.”
“I told you I won’t play games with you, Ronnie.”
Narrowing her eyes, Ronnie held her hand out palm up. “Give me my pen.”
“Come and get it,” he invited, discreetly dropping it on the floor between his legs. “Oops,” he said without an ounce of remorse in his voice. His dark eyes held a challenge.
Ronnie glanced at Allison Rooks. Trace’s mother was concentrating on the file in front of her, not on him. Ronnie’s eyes shot to Lou Ellen and she was occupied penciling in numbers on the spreadsheet she had started. Trace wanted to play games? She could play them too. Ronnie slid out of her chair and ducked under the table. Her pen rested between his booted feet and she crawled down there. It was dark under the table, but she had no problem seeing the bulge in his jeans either. He was getting off on taunting her. Well, Ronnie had enough of it.
She stopped at his feet, sat back on her haunches, then pinched the end of his shoe laces. They came untied, and she quickly tied them together. Once she was done, she suppressed the laughter that bubbled inside of her as she placed her hand on his thigh and squeezed. She heard him suck in a breath.
Ronnie trailed one fingernail along the inseam of his jeans, then up the zipper track up to the tab. When she slowly inched the zipper down his breath eased out in a low hiss. The tab reached the bottom of the track and Ronnie looked up to discover he wasn’t wearing underwear and a dull throb started between her legs as she stared at his engorged erection. Ronnie trailed her finger along the vein to the top, circled the head of his cock then paused. He shivered and his hips slid lower in the chair which spread the sides of his fly wider, exposing more of him to her view. Ronnie gently pressed her thumb and forefinger on either side of his cock then gathered the skin to the front where she pinched as hard as she could and even twisted it a little.
A roaring scream exploded from Trace, he shoved the chair back forcefully and shot to his feet. He tried to take a step, but his feet got tangled and Ronnie saw him falling. He landed with a loud thud and a grunt face down on the floor. With a smug smile Ronnie picked up her pen off of the floor and crawled from under the table.
Both women’s eyes landed on her and their eyebrows raised. She smiled at them as she stood and held up her pen. “Found my pen. I must have dropped it under the table,” she said with a laugh. She glanced over the table at Trace. “What’s wrong with you, big guy? Trip over your own feet?” she asked sarcastically.
Trace mumbled something, then lifted his hips evidently to zip his pants, before he turned over. His eyes held murderous intent, as he sat up. He untied his laces then retied them, before he stood. Ronnie gasped as Trace walked around the table, then grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the dining room. Over his shoulder, his voice was strained as he told his mother, “We’ll be back in a few minutes. I need to speak to Ronnie privately.”
Ronnie stumbled behind him as he dragged her through the house. “Slow down, I’m going to fall,” she complained as her ankles twisted in the high heels she’d borrowed from Lou Ellen, who thank god was her size. It was a relief to finally be able to wear clothes her size and length again. The woman was older than Ronnie by a couple of decades, but she had good taste, and she was tall. The soft floral skirt she had on was exactly something Ronnie would buy for herself.
Right now though, she would welcome the too small tennis shoes she’d been wearing for days. She could barely keep up with Trace’s long strides, because she was off balance. And every time she tripped across the hard uneven ground while he dragged her across the yard, the skirt flipped up a
nd her ass shined to the world.
“Slow down, Trace,” she growled pulling against his hold. He tightened his grip on her arm and kept going. They finally reached the woods and the air was at least twenty degrees cooler inside the canopy of trees. When her skirt flapped up now, a cool breeze brushed her cheeks. Next time she’d wear full-bottom briefs instead of the thong she had been washing out every night in the tub. Trace didn’t stop until he was at the front door of the cabin in the woods, and only then long enough to fling it inward on its hinges.
“Couldn’t you talk to me in the house?” she asked with a short laugh, as he sat down on the double bed across the room.
“Not for what I have to say to you,” he replied with a jerk of her arm that hurtled her forward to sprawl across his lap. She tried to get back up, but Trace’s arm closed over her waist like a steel band, and her skirt floated down to settle around her waist. Her heart pounded in her chest as Ronnie struggled against his hold. She felt a breeze right before his palm connected with her ass in a stinging blow that shocked her. The sound reverberated through the room. Ronnie whimpered, as her breath caught in her throat. She struggled fiercely to break his hold, but Trace held on tight.
She felt another rush of air and braced right before his palm landed across her cheek again. She wailed, as pain rocked through her, but strangely shards of pleasure mixed with it to make her clit tingle, and she felt moisture gather between her legs.
Trace kneaded her stinging skin with his palm, rubbing warm circles to soothe the ache. “You okay, Red?” he asked, his breaths coming shallow and quick. His rock hard dick dug into her stomach where she lay over his lap. Ronnie knew he was angry with her, but she could tell this was exciting him. It was exciting her too.