by Debra Webb
“No.”
“Jana, I know how to do my job.”
“I’m aware of that.”
Someone knocked on the door. “Go.” He ignored her irritable look as she marched into the bathroom.
Dylan pulled the gun from his waistband and checked the peephole. “Who is it?”
The man, the same guy from the bar, held up a badge and identification from the Texas Rangers. “Just need a few minutes of your time, Mr. Parker.”
Now we’re making progress, Dylan thought, opening the door. “Come on in.”
Chapter Thirteen
Hours after Texas Ranger Victor Ramirez’s visit, Jana still couldn’t calm the butterflies swirling and fluttering in her stomach. Her life had undergone another gravitational shift. Ramirez was the man she’d thought had been following her. She appreciated learning she hadn’t imagined his interest in her movements.
Life shouldn’t be this complicated.
Maybe life wasn’t, but murder certainly was.
It was gratifying to hear that her dad had been taking the steps to protect her and himself from what he feared could turn into a deadly situation. He had contacted Ramirez as well as his private attorney just two weeks before his death. Her dad had revised his will but Camille had no idea she’d been cut out completely. He had invoked the terms of the prenuptial agreement she’d signed. Following Ramirez’s advice, her dad had instructed his attorney to keep the existence of the codicil quiet until the investigation was concluded. The hope was that he would quietly gather enough evidence to nail his wife and chief of staff for a number of crimes. Her dad had wanted to keep the whole business quiet until he had undisputable evidence. Sadly, his enemies had moved more quickly than he had anticipated.
Ramirez was certain the staged suicide was murder, but he didn’t have enough evidence to prove it. The senator had discovered Camille’s duplicity when he overheard a conversation between her and Gregory about the hate mail and how it wasn’t doing the trick. Her dad believed Gregory was the one behind the particularly ugly hate mail he had hidden in his secret book. Unfortunately, her dad’s signed statement regarding the conversation, the hate mail, and the sex video didn’t provide sufficient evidence for Ramirez to charge Camille or Gregory with murder. Though it had been enough to set an investigation in motion.
No one, not even her dad, had anticipated Camille or someone acting on her behalf would commit murder. Ramirez blamed himself for not protecting the senator. He’d been determined not to make the same mistake with Jana.
Still, they needed ironclad evidence or a confession to close the case. Dylan and Ramirez assured her an unpredictable criminal made more mistakes. Case in point, the shootings and the break-in at Jana’s home. Those inept attempts to scare Jana were evidence her enemies were worried. Dylan’s presence had them off balance. Ramirez wanted to beef up their efforts, particularly where Camille and Sam were concerned. Both had access to the study, and both stood to gain significant power if the new legislation for reducing safety protocols passed. Camille’s rise in power was obvious. Sam’s was a little more behind the scenes. The movers and shakers he had promised sufficient votes for passage of the legislation in the senate would not forget his allegiance, propelling him higher up the political ladder. Camille had the additional motive of gaining immense wealth. Jana’s dad had implicated Senator Price as having a personal stake in the bill. Apparently, Price had been working this deal under the table for more than a year. He was determined to make it happen. He, too, had oil investments that would prosper with the deregulations. On the other hand, if his wholly illegal involvement were discovered, he’d lose his senate seat and end up in the big house.
All those things added up to motive. The question was, who pulled the trigger?
Had Price been determined enough to protect his interests and avoid prison that he would murder her dad? Since he wasn’t one of the ones with easy access, they were sticking with the Camille-Sam scenario. It made Jana heartsick to think how alone and betrayed her dad must have felt. She desperately wished he had come to her. She couldn’t change that now, but she could do all within her power to help Dylan and Ramirez take them down.
With Ramirez working in the background, she and Dylan had to create an opportunity for either Camille or Sam to make a significant mistake or to confess. Her stomach pitched and she suffered more of those butterfly sensations. She wasn’t sure how they were going to pull this off, but they were damn well going to try. Dylan promised to help her through it. Following her dad’s advice, she trusted her intuition about both Dylan and Ramirez. They were putting things in motion tonight.
Holding her breath, she willed her hand to remain steady as she applied eyeliner and mascara. She hadn’t worn so much makeup since her pageant days, but that was the point. No one was supposed to recognize her or her behavior while they were out tonight.
Jana pulled the hot rollers from her hair and bent at the waist, giving her head a shake. She stood up, a bit startled by the volume of thick curls tumbling around her face. Her hair tickled her bare shoulders when she moved her head. Maybe the racy halter-top was too much. Maybe the clingy red skirt was too short or the boots were too whatever. Maybe none of it mattered. The look was completely different from the conservative, tailored wardrobe she donned every day.
“Mission accomplished,” she whispered to her reflection.
Back in her pageant days, Theo had spent hours coaching her before each major event. He’d tell her over and over that no one would believe she was beautiful if she didn’t believe it.
“You look wild and... sexy,” she told the unfamiliar woman in the mirror. “Theo would be proud.” When this was over, she intended to fly to wherever her old friend was and celebrate. And she wanted to thank him. Meeting Dylan had changed her life. She owed Theo for that one and more. If he hadn’t gotten her in touch with the Guardian Agency...
Jana shivered. She didn’t want to think what might have happened by now.
Leaving her cell phone behind as Dylan had asked, she tucked fifty dollars and her ID into her bra and walked out of her bedroom.
Dylan waited in the kitchen, absorbed with whatever was on his laptop screen.
“Will this work?” She held her breath.
His head came up slowly, his eyes went wide, and his chin dropped. His reaction told her she’d hit the mark with the disguise. He’d called her stunning when she’d dressed for dinner with Gregory, but this time she didn’t know what to expect. “Too much?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Perfect.”
When he looked at her like that she wanted to dress this way every day. Well, at least every night. More specifically, she wanted to forget the plan and drag him to the nearest horizontal surface. If only she had the courage to venture farther than those hot kisses. She had a feeling sex with Dylan would be life changing, but that it would also take more than she was perhaps prepared to give.
“I don’t think we should play pool tonight,” he said.
“It’s the skirt, right?” She tugged at the hem. “I can change.”
“Don’t you dare.” He stood, but hesitated on his side of the table. “When you were a rebel, where did you go?”
She felt her cheeks heating. “We’d go dancing at some rough honky-tonks outside of town.”
“I knew you had a wild side under all that polished reserve.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Oh, yeah.” He stepped closer, wrapping a curl of her hair around his finger. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you good girls are allowed to cut loose?” He bent his head and kissed her lightly. “We have work to do, but we’ll find a way to fit in a little play, I promise.”
She trembled, believing him completely. Whatever soap or cologne he wore made her think of long kisses in dark corners. The man tempted her like no one else. “What were you working on?”
“Research.”
“Do you have something more on Camille?” If they didn’t have to
go out, they’d have to stay in. She didn’t know which would be worse... or better, actually.
“No.” He edged past her toward the foyer. “I was looking up Austin nightclubs.”
“I could’ve told you about them.”
He took her shawl from her arm and draped it across her shoulders. “Maybe I wanted an objective opinion.”
What was he up to? “You’re sure this is the best option?” As determined as she was to prove who killed her dad, she was a little terrified.
He smiled and opened the door. “The sooner we go, the sooner it’s over.”
And the sooner he’d be out of her life, she added, feeling depressed at the thought. That wasn’t at all what she should be thinking about. They had to execute this part of the plan to expose her dad’s killer. As she walked to his truck it took all her willpower not to look around for whoever was watching her house. This was an essential risk. One designed to bring this investigation to a climax. Only the people watching her and Dylan would know the house was empty, or where to find them.
In the truck, Dylan turned up the music and she tried to relax enough to get in the mood for bar hopping. “You think they’ll come after me again tonight?”
“I made sure the right people heard about our chat with Ramirez this afternoon. We want them to know we’re on to them. The goal is to make them nervous enough to screw up even bigger than they already have.”
“I know we need to be sober, but I’m having a huckleberry margarita at the first opportunity.”
“No problem.” He reached out to touch her hair again. “Any chance tequila makes your clothes fall off?”
“Stop it,” she said, when she realized that was the song playing on his radio. “I was being serious.”
“So was I.”
His deep voice sent another shiver through her and she couldn’t string enough words together to make a coherent sentence. Sometimes silence was better.
Half an hour later Dylan pulled into a parking space in front of a club designed to look like an old battered saloon. They strolled across the parking lot and to the entrance. Bouncers checked ID’s at the door while the band on stage had the crowd on their feet.
Honoring her request, Dylan guided her straight to the bar, the palm of his hand on her back. When he had his beer and she had her huckleberry margarita, they found just enough room to stand and enjoy the drinks. She drank hers too fast, but she needed the liquid courage to play her part.
“I don’t like knowing they’re watching me.” Her gaze darted around the club, but she couldn’t spot anyone taking an interest in them. Yet.
“Forget them. It’s my job anyway.” Dylan traced her cheek with his finger and then raised her face giving her a long study. “Do you like knowing I’m watching?”
Suddenly her body remembered the feel of him on top of her when he’d pinned her down in her backyard. “I didn’t know you were watching me that first night.”
“What about now?”
The husky timber of his voice made her blood heat. His eyes, that impossibly blue gaze, had her wishing he’d look at her with that intensity forever. “We need to dance.” It was the only way she could get her hands on him and not go too far. Acting out this charade was also the only way to tempt her dad’s killer to make a move. She and Dylan had to make this look real.
He led her out to the dance floor. The music pulsed around them, through them, drawing them close until her heart seemed to beat in time with his. While her body moved sinuously with Dylan’s, his hands brushed her hips, her shoulders, her bare back, even the sliver of her midriff left bare between her top and the skirt.
“Check the phone,” he said, as he brought her close after a turn.
She lifted his phone from his shirt pocket. “Ramirez. Two men just went into my house.”
“Well, well.” He bent his face close to her ear. “Hang on baby, it’s about to get interesting.”
“Someone’s here?”
“Eyes on me,” Dylan said, when her gaze darted around the dance floor. “I’ve got this.” Dylan had spotted the Talker and the Silent Partner he’d fought with the night she’d had dinner with Whiny Gregory. It was possible the pair was connected to the killer. After their talk with Ramirez, Dylan felt more confident that the would-be fiancé had hired the thugs to rough him up and scare him off. Whiny Gregory wanted Jana all to himself and Dylan out of the picture.
Caught between a jealous man and a political power play. Not the ideal elements of a date. Which he supposed was fair, since this was not really a date. It was his job. “Have you ever thought of taking a vacation and getting out of town?”
“Who doesn’t?” Her eyes were full of determination. “But we can’t run off when Ramirez is counting on us tomorrow. My dad is counting on us.”
He’d analyze her use of we and us later. “Oh, we’ll be there. We’re not going to let your dad down.” Given a chance, he’d happily pound the two clowns watching them into the dusty parking lot for interrupting his dance.
Whether it was the tequila, the music, or being anonymous, Jana had finally relaxed. Dylan felt the tension slide from her sweet body. When he’d told her she looked perfect, he’d meant it. Not for an evening in a honky-tonk, not for this game of cat and mouse—just perfect. Hair up or down, in jeans or a suit, the woman was in his blood. Unfortunately, he could already tell she’d stay there long after the case was closed and he left town. He admired her grit, her ethics, and her instincts.
Jana’s eyes went wide as someone tapped firmly on his shoulder.
“May I cut in?” the man asked.
Dylan turned, facing the Silent Partner from the other night. His face bore the signs of the beating Dylan had given him. “So you can talk.” He punched him in the throat. “Answer’s no,” he added as the man staggered back and fell into another couple.
If Dylan understood anything about human nature, it was how to rouse a bar fight. No matter where you were from, it rarely took much to piss off a drinking man. Talker came up behind Jana and grabbed her around the waist. “We’ll take her home for you.”
“Go on and try that. I dare you,” Dylan said. “I’ll give you a few more bruises to add to your collection.” Both his eyes were black and puffy.
“Dylan!” Jana shouted and kicked as Talker backed away, but she didn’t have a good angle to do any real damage. “Dylan!”
He dogged Talker’s every step, his eyes on his target. The dancers made space for a fight, but the band played on as the bouncers closed in. “Get your hands off her.”
Talker pulled a knife, pressed it to her neck. “Your night’s over, hot shot.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” The blade stopped everything. Everything but Dylan. He took another step forward. “Last chance.”
The bouncers were clearing the floor and probably calling the cops.
“If you’re smart you’ll back off,” Talker growled.
“How much did Atkins promise you?” Dylan asked.
He sneered. “Enough.”
Dylan smiled. Bingo. If Atkins was involved, these two had orders not to hurt Jana. “I hope so.” Dylan took another step. “Assault with a deadly weapon in front of all these witnesses.” He shook his head. “Probably not your first offense either.”
“Back off,” Talker repeated.
“No.” Dylan saw a bouncer moving into position behind the goon, but he wanted a piece of this bastard first. He grabbed a beer bottle from the nearest table and threw it at Talker’s head, on the knife-hand side.
The man instinctively blocked the bottle with the hand holding the knife and Jana stomped on his foot and scrambled away. Dylan charged in, throwing upper cuts. It wasn’t a fair fight, even before the knife fell from Talker’s hand. An upper cut, a right cross, a knee strike, and the man was down on the dance floor.
The crowd burst into applause and Jana rushed into Dylan’s arms. For a moment, he just held her. “You okay?”
Her cheek rubbed against h
is shirt as she nodded.
“Good.” Dylan turned to the bouncer. “You can take him from here?”
“Happy to,” the big guy said. “Any chance you teach classes?”
“Not tonight,” Dylan shook his hand. “Sorry for the mess.”
“This is nothing. You pressing charges?”
Dylan wrapped an arm around Jana. “That’s up to her.”
She shook her head.
“Guess not.”
Jana wrote a number down on a bar napkin and handed it to the bouncer. “Call this number to cover any damages.”
Dylan waited until they were outside to ask her about the note. “Did you give them Atkins’s number?”
“At the office,” she said.
“You’re brilliant.”
“I have my moments,” she agreed, leaning into him. “So those were the guys who gave you a hard time the other night?”
“Whiny Gregory paid them to tell me to leave town. I guess he wants you all to himself.”
“He can forget about it,” she declared. “So what now?”
He opened the truck door for her, and then went around to the driver’s side. “Another club?”
“I don’t think so.” She shook her head as he slid behind the steering wheel.
“I guess we can—”
The rear window shattered.
“Get down,” Dylan shouted as he slammed the truck into gear and roared out of the parking space, kicking up dust and aiming for the highway.
After two minutes without a tail, he relaxed. “It’s safe.”
“What was that?” She raised up and stared at the broken window.
“An attempt on your life or at least to scare you to death. If you can find my phone, let Ramirez know Atkins was behind an attempted kidnapping tonight and that someone took a shot at us.”
She groaned. “Gregory wouldn’t have known where we were unless...”
“He was in on it,” Dylan finished for her. “I’m guessing Camille promised him a high level position on her staff and her influence over you. It’s you he really wants, you know.”