by Angi Morgan
“Jack?” the woman said, asking a million questions with his name.
“Gillie, I need a babysitter for my...my guest.”
“No one has to watch me,” Megan interjected. “You could let me go. I can take care of myself.”
A horrified expression crossed Gillie’s face. “Are you serious? You’re holding a woman here against her will?”
“No, wait a second. I’m doing this for Wade.”
“Are you joking? Why would you kidnap a woman for your partner?”
Whoever Gillie was, he didn’t answer her. She approached the couch and dropped a plastic sack.
“My partner—” Jack emphasized the words “—got me out of a complicated situation. He saved lives. Including mine.”
“Maybe you should think long and hard about doing what Wade’s gut wants instead of him taking care of it.”
Megan wanted to interrupt and ask what was going on. They argued like two people who had known each other a long time. Then it dawned on her that Gillie was most likely Jack’s sister. The coloring and bone structure—along with her height—were all similar.
“Don’t be ridiculous. There are complications that I can’t go into.”
“Little Jack, I might just handcuff you to the pipes myself.”
Somehow the slender brunette standing at the end of the small room looked much more powerful than the Texas Ranger holding his sidearm.
Megan waved her hand, breaking the tension. “If you’re serious, I could help you.”
They both looked at her.
“Go get dressed, Little Jack. That is, if you have the key handy.” Gillie snickered.
Jack silently removed his hand from the cuff and snapped it onto the metal scroll design on the end table. Then he walked away without another word.
Gillie plopped down on the other end of the couch and turned sideways to face Megan. “Any chance there’s a short version of your story?”
Megan shrugged, halfway tempted to remain silent and let the woman continue to assume this was all Jack’s fault.
“Lucky for you, I’ve got nothing but time,” she continued.
Megan tugged against the handcuff, but the heavy wooden table didn’t budge an inch. “Any chance you could sweet-talk him into giving you the key?”
“Honey, if I had any influence over the MacKinnon men, I would have gone to work for anyone other than my father. Start talking.”
“So you are his sister. I thought for a second there you might be his girlfriend.”
“Oh, please. Jack and Gillie? That’s a joke. My real name is Gilleth Anne, after both of my grandmothers. My mom didn’t think that through all the way.” She laughed. Then giggled. “I’ll tell you my exciting tale later. Right now I want to know why you’re trying to escape in a bathrobe. One that I gave to Little Jack last Christmas and that he only wears to answer the door. Sometimes.”
If the circumstances had been different, Gillie would be a person Megan would want to know. Right now she’d explain that she needed to get home or even call Therese to find out why her friend was afraid of the Austin police.
Megan filled Gillie in on the events. There weren’t many, since she really didn’t know the details of why Therese had sent him to the airport. But during the retelling, it didn’t seem so unreasonable that she would have stayed the night with Jack.
By the time Jack returned, she was finished and finding her confidence again. He stopped at the edge of the hall and stuffed his hand into the pocket of a tight pair of jeans.
He was dressed in scuffed boots, a large belt buckle and a heavily starched yellow shirt with Liberty Hill Boosters embroidered on the pocket. All he needed was a Western hat to complete the perfect cowboy picture.
Gillie whistled through her teeth. “Whew. Aren’t you all prettied up, ready for the big homecoming meeting?”
“It was already laid out. I’m not going. Someone is certain to have seen—”
“Seen what?” Gillie asked.
“I thought you two would have a plan hatched for Megan’s escape already. Didn’t she tell you she’s wanted for murder?”
“I might have left a few details out for brevity’s sake.” She shrugged. Or it might have been an attempt to convince Gillie to become an ally.
“In the name of brevity.” Jack laughed.
“Then you, Little Jack, are a kidnapper. Maybe you should turn Megan over to the appropriate authorities? You don’t have any right to keep her here against her will.” Gillie pointed to the handcuffs.
“Someone tried to kill her.”
“That’s still no reason to use force, and you know it.”
Jack looked at Megan. Truly looked. As in a deep connection.
Megan hardly knew Jack had unlocked the handcuff until it dangled from the table.
“I can help you.” His declaration was uncomplicated by reasoning.
Her belief was unprecedented in her experience. “Where do we start?”
Chapter Four
Somehow he’d made a mistake. Someone had caught wind of his plans. The imbecile on loan to him hadn’t retrieved her at the airport gate, only her bag.
Megan Harper hadn’t picked up her car at the airport. It was still sitting there. He’d waited. Ready to act. Ready for the next phase of his revenge.
Now she was gone. Disappeared. No one could leave without a trace, though. There was a clue somewhere to her location. He just had to find it.
The hours of preparation wouldn’t be wasted. He’d bring her back into the open from wherever she was hiding. Then she’d face the consequences. His consequences.
The printer finished, and he cut the short article down to fit on the board. The authorities would find this and have no doubts about her link to his activities. One piece would remain missing to the ultimate takedown—Megan Harper’s obituary.
Miss Rising Star at the TDI would soon flame out at his feet.
* * *
SOME RANGER. IT HADN’T taken much for Gillie to convince him to take Megan to her house for her own clothes and personal items before heading on to Austin headquarters. Maybe because he’d already convinced himself when he pulled a gun on her.
Yeah, big mistake.
Guilt, responsibility and honor silently battled for a winner in his thoughts. Guilt had won and was still winning since he’d given in and they were on their way to Austin.
A low hum of road noise and notes from the local country station kept Megan’s silence from being deafening. They hadn’t spoken since leaving his house. Couldn’t she understand that she wasn’t a prisoner? She was just under his protection.
Big elephant-in-the-room question was, did she really need to fear the police? His partner said she did. Her friend said she did. The news reports proved that she was in trouble. She still wasn’t convinced.
But she was nervous. He observed it in her body language. Her thumbnail rose to the edge of her lips, but before it touched, she would bury it in her fist. Her heel would begin to tap. Stop. She’d put her hands on her knees to keep her legs still.
Yeah, he was a Texas Ranger. He couldn’t hold her against her will. Not unless he was ordered to by those getting paid a lot more than him. He had no choice but to hand her over, no matter what Wade’s instincts said.
And yet his gut shouted at him that leaving her on her own was the wrong thing to do. Maybe part of Wade was rubbing off on him. It felt like abandonment, and he hadn’t done anything except start driving.
He kept his head forward but continued watching Megan in the passenger seat. Besides looking a little tired and pulling at the tight T-shirt he’d given her, she didn’t look nervous.
“You’re doing the right thing.” Her hand started toward his shoulder, but she pulled it back and tapped on the console separating them.
“That remains to b
e seen.” His bad feeling persisted.
“What has you so worried? I told you I won’t press charges.” Her graceful hand—which had yanked his shirt over her head—made its way back to her wrist and rubbed it for emphasis.
“Honestly, that choice hadn’t occurred to me.”
Nope, he was more concerned about the promise to his partner. He’d never failed to keep his word to Wade and didn’t want to start now. He’d tried calling his partner. First thing back in the truck, Megan began calling Therese. She’d heeded his caution about contacting anyone else.
Neither person answered. They could only leave messages.
The noonday sun bounced off the blacktop road. They were nearly to Austin. He’d have a headache from gritting his teeth if he didn’t stop thinking about what he’d tell Wade. Hell, he’d have a headache from worrying what Mrs. Dennis was saying to his dad since Gillie was at the homecoming meeting instead of him.
Damn. More guilt from not filling in as mayor for the week. His sister should be the child groomed to take their father’s place. But that was in the future. Now he should focus on the problem in the passenger seat.
“You sure this is the best thing for you? We don’t know the time of death for the man you’re accused of killing. I might not be an alibi as much as assuring those involved what time you arrived in Austin.”
“I’m innocent.”
“I never thought otherwise.”
“Why is that, Jack? You don’t know me. You have every reason to turn me in to the police and let me sort this mess out on my own.” She shook her head, and her hair fell forward, blocking his glimpses of her face. “It has to be something more than just a promise. Keeping me in your home could ruin your career. I can’t let that happen.”
He had to think about that and took an opportunity to pass a horse trailer. Was helping her more than a promise? He’d never worked totally on instinct before. Although his gut reactions had paid off once or twice while he was on border patrol.
It sounded corny, but he didn’t want to drop Megan off and step away from the trouble. This excitement reminded him of the undercover work he’d been doing for the past couple of years.
“Liberty Hill only has about sixteen hundred citizens.” He tapped the steering wheel with his thumb, attempting to sound casual. “Most kids graduate and only come back for stuff like homecoming and holidays.”
She sighed and pushed her hair behind her ears. “I suppose that’s true everywhere nowadays.”
“Probably. My life adventure was the college my dad paid for, then accepting a position with the Texas Department of Public Safety. I didn’t come back home like my dad thought. No one imagined I would stay with DPS and not live in Liberty Hill.”
“No one except you? But you seem to have a house there.”
“Investment that keeps me from sleeping in a bed too short for these big feet.”
She flipped her hair behind her shoulder as she looked at the window. “You are definitely long-winded for a guy. What does your story have to do with now?”
For all the calm she’d shown in his living room, she was tapping her foot, raking her fingers through her long hair and settling it again around one shoulder. Then she drew a deep breath and started it all again.
“Where are you from, Megan?”
“What?” She turned to him, her nose crinkled all cute-like.
“Where are you from? Simple question.”
“I’ve lived all over the world. My dad was career Air Force. He and my mom retired in the UK.”
“That explains a little.” He used a red light to check the directions to her home. They were getting close.
“I’m a little confused. What does living on one military base after another have to do with anything? I asked why you were helping me.” She repeated all the signs that she was frustrated, then ended with her elbow propped against the window.
Somehow he was no longer confused or frustrated with making a decision. Trying to explain it made him realize he wasn’t leaving her alone. She wouldn’t be the reason he broke his word.
“I guess things are different in a small town. A man’s only as good as his name, and that’s only good if he keeps his word. So that promise you’re dismissing is the only reason I need.”
“I see. So you aren’t taking me to my office and/or to turn myself in?”
“I’ll do whatever you need. But until I hear from my partner, I’m sticking close. No reason I can’t park my butt in a chair outside whatever cell they put you in.”
“You really think they’ll—Of course they will. It’s a good thing we’re stopping by the house. I have a backup drive in my safe.”
“Wait. What backup drive?” He switched on his blinker and caught a flashing light in his rearview mirror. “Somebody’s in a hurry.”
He slowed at the side of the road, letting two emergency vehicles pass. Then turned up the chatter on his radio.
“Did they say Whitebrush Loop?”
It was her street. He had a bad feeling about what they’d find when they tried to turn the last corner. A barricade stopped them two blocks away.
“Jack.” She grabbed his arm with that hand he’d been admiring. “They’re in front of my house. How can we find out what’s going on?”
He unsnapped his seat belt and faced her. “You have to trust me and stay here. Doors locked. If anyone looks cross-eyed at you, start honking. Got it?”
She shook her head. “All these cops to bring me in? It doesn’t make sense.”
He stepped from the truck and pulled his credentials, displaying them on his belt. Then he remembered the keys and locked the doors. It wouldn’t keep her inside, but it would keep a threat out.
The first Austin police officer let him through without any questions. The ones who were a little closer started to speak, but he cut them off. “Who’s in charge?” Two pointed him in the right direction.
A man in a suit was talking to someone gearing up with bomb gear. Jack hung back, trying to eavesdrop without looking like he was eavesdropping.
“You think it’s a legitimate call,” said the officer in charge.
“You’ve evacuated the homes. Now you need to get the rest of these people farther back.” The bomb-squad guy fastened another piece of gear in place.
“We’re working on it. I just wish we could confirm she’s inside like the threat says.” Suit turned to the house.
Jack followed in the same direction. His view was blocked until he took a couple of steps to the right and saw the barricades around the address Megan had given him. That bad feeling shouted at him to get the hell off the street. He casually took a couple of steps backward, then flipped around, hurriedly retracing his steps.
“Get these people back,” he ordered.
Megan had said she worked in the State Fire Marshal’s Office. Bombs equaled fires in his book. Whoever was setting her up was going to follow through on his threat.
“Why are they evacuating the block?” Megan asked.
She was leaning on the last barricade. Any person with a cell out recording this event—and there were several—could recognize her and wave at the cop five feet away.
Wait. Proof. They needed proof she wasn’t in the house and hadn’t left his side.
Jack looked like a gawker as he pressed Record and pointed his cell at the entire scene, ending on Megan’s face. She didn’t question him. Maybe she put the reason together, because she struck a pose pointing to the time on her watch.
“Whatever’s going on down there, I had nothing to do with it.”
Finished, he laced his fingers with hers and got them back in the truck, pushing her through the driver’s-side door. They were half a block away when the explosion shook the ground.
“Oh, dear Lord,” she whispered, covering her face with her hands.
Jack
had time to look over his shoulder as he paused for the onlookers to run through the street. They inched their way forward while more emergency vehicles responded. He could see the smoke billowing behind them, hear the chaos on the radio—which he turned off.
“Why?”
“The police think you were inside. It’s probably the woman—”
“My look-alike they used at the county clerk’s murder scene,” she finished.
“That’s my guess.”
“I hope no one was hurt or loses their homes because of me.” She used the edge of her T-shirt to dry the corners of her eyes. “None of this makes sense.”
“We’re almost out of here. Just a sec.” Safely on the opposite side of Farm Road 620, he pulled into a subdivision and parked on an unfinished road. “You should probably tell me what’s going on now.”
“But I swear I don’t know.” She got out of the truck. She wasn’t likely to run away again, but he shut the engine off and followed her.
He dropped the tailgate and offered to help her up. She popped her slim, tall frame onto the gate without any assistance. “When we first arrived you mentioned a backup drive in your safe. Why was it important enough that someone wanted to blow it up?”
“I have no idea. I didn’t know the man killed in Dallas and don’t know why someone’s doing this. My trip was practically uneventful. I haven’t connected any dots. There’s nothing to back me up. Especially now that my house is gone.”
“What’s your theory? You have a better reason they blew up your house?”
“I don’t have one.”
Oh, yeah, she did. Should he tell her that her voice got softer when she stretched the truth? He’d keep the information to himself for the time being. “That’s everything I own, you know. My first home where I could choose the colors and plants and even the refrigerator.” She repositioned her long hair and shivered. “I’m still paying on the refrigerator.”
The sun was warm, but the breeze made it cool enough for a jacket. He took her hand and pulled her a little closer until he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. She could possibly be in shock or still suffering from the drugs at the airport.