by Angi Morgan
“Can we call?”
“Nothing.” He showed her the screen with no connection.
“I hate that he’s getting away with this. Alvie admitted to me that he set those bombs and fires, killing all those people.” She tugged on his hand to get him moving. “Let’s go. We can’t let him get away.”
“Oh, no. You aren’t going anywhere.”
“If we argue we’re just going to be wasting time. I’m in this up to my eyeballs, so let’s go.” She dropped his hand and took off running.
She was wrong, but he had no way—or right—to hold her back. He caught up with her, slowing her down while they entered the property where part of the fence had fallen.
“Stay smart. Quiet. And let me take him down.”
“I haven’t seen you carrying a knife. Right?” She lifted her hands, still locked by flex cuffs at the wrists.
He shook his head. “Maybe the office has scissors.”
“Good idea.” She darted past him.
He pulled her back. He might not be able to keep her from being with him, but he sure as hell could force her to stay behind him. And his weapon.
“We don’t know if he came in here or not. Let’s get to the office and trust that he’ll be caught. We’re at risk of being shot by both sides.”
“You think the cops will shoot at us? Or your friendly Rangers? Do you think they were in the building?” she asked.
The jolt of agony that his company could be gone blasted through his entire body. “I honestly don’t know. They’ll be clearing every building around here. If you see them, don’t try to explain. Just drop and wait.”
A bullet pinged off the tin lean-to they were under. That wasn’t the cops. Jack turned and discharged his weapon to keep the shooter from firing again.
“I see the office.” He pointed, then grabbed her shoulder with his free hand, forcing her to look at him. “I’ll lay down cover and you run. We go through the office. Once on the street, put your hands up. They’re going to assume we’re part of whoever brought down the building.”
His hand dropped, letting her go. He stepped out, took a couple of shots, and she took off. He saw her weaving in and out of junk, not letting the gunfire slow her down.
Too late he realized that there was movement just ahead of Megan, heading for the office. He ran faster to catch up, but the door opened and she disappeared inside. He followed, entering the office area more cautiously.
The lights were off. He stayed low. Most of the sounds he heard were from outside. Rescue workers. Someone shouted, “All clear.” But the low bumps and grunts he heard led him to the front counter.
The sound of frustrated efforts of trying to cut through plastic sent relief through his soul. “Megan,” he whispered. “Don’t swing the scissors.” He rounded the counter and joined her on the floor.
“Thank goodness. Can you...?” She placed the scissors in his right hand as he switched his gun to the left. Quickly, they freed her of the restraints.
“He didn’t go through the door. It’s still bolted at the top.”
“You leave. Remember what I told you about surrendering yourself.”
“I like my chances better next to you, Ranger.” She put her hand on his shoulder.
Relief again. He didn’t have to worry about her if she was with him. They could pin Balsawood down together. “Did you try the landline?”
She picked up the phone. No dial tone. Either the feds—who would have joined the scene after the bombs—or the local PD had shut everything down. Standard operating procedure.
“Keep the scissors.”
“Definitely.
They moved through the maze of bins with old doorknobs and mailboxes. Anything and everything that could be salvaged from an old house was there. He moved, and Megan moved, anticipating his direction. Teamwork.
Then Balsawood darted from a smaller room, running in the dim light back the direction where they’d entered the office.
“You don’t have to do this, Balsawood. We can work things out. No one will ever know you’re a witness. They have programs for that,” Jack shouted.
“It’s too late. I’m not going to jail. I’m sorry, but running is my only chance.”
“Don’t be crazy, Alvie. That guy who owns all this property... What’s his name? Oh, Rushdan...Rushdan Reval, he has to be behind this. All you have to do is tell the police what happened. You can make a deal,” she pleaded.
Her coworker ran down the next aisle. “I’m not going to jail. Stay back. Stay back or I’ll shoot!” Full of panic, his voice shook like a soprano’s. It was so different from that of the man at the river. “I’m getting out of here.”
“There isn’t anywhere to run,” Megan tried.
Alvie tripped and fell from her view, screaming in agony. She couldn’t see what had happened, but it sounded like he was dying. Gun or no gun, she ran toward the cry of pain. She rounded the corner, Jack tugging at her to slow down. Alvie had fallen onto an antique window. The frame still held part of the glass, and a sharp spear of it had pierced his thigh back to front.
“Let me have your shirt,” she said as soon as Jack got to her.
He verified Alvie was free of weapons, then untucked his shirt from his belt, unbuttoned the top and pulled it inside out over his head. It was wet from the river, but that didn’t matter.
Alvie had tried to frame her and have her murdered, but she didn’t want him to die. So she wrapped Jack’s shirt around the edge of the glass, trying to stop the blood. Her coworker pleaded and cried the entire time.
“We can’t call for help with everything jammed. I’ll stay here while you go,” she told Jack. “I’ll be fine.”
“I think that’s what we agreed the last time.”
“I’ve heard more first responders. I’m sure they’ve rounded everyone up. Go. I promise not to be dragged away again.”
She was almost surprised when he actually left. The main door opened—she heard the bell—and the noise from the chaos at the bomb site grew.
“Why would someone blow up a building and hurt so many people?”
“To get away, idiot. I can’t believe they said you were more qualified than me.” Alvie shifted, screamed and settled back to the floor. “Those stupid policy setters at TDI who thought hiring ex-cops was a better idea than someone with my higher thought process.”
“You set those bombs?”
“Of course I did, but you’ll never prove it. I covered my tracks. All the fires, the paperwork...none of it can be traced back to me. You’ll never find my money.”
“I know about the insurance fraud. We’ll eventually find everything.”
She wanted out of there. Wanted to lift her hands from keeping pressure on the wound and leave. But she wouldn’t. She was a better person than this lowlife.
“The last bit was so easy. I paid the men he sent to bring me here. Not much. Just a little more.” He cried. “If I got rid of him first, then he couldn’t get rid of me.”
“Anyone in here?” a voice shouted from the direction of the door.
“Over here,” she answered.
Megan moved back so the rescue workers could work. She was still in shock at what a normal-seeming guy like Alvie Balsawood was capable of doing when Jack called out and found her. He tugged her to her feet and wrapped his arms tight. His strength seeped through his muscles into her. She didn’t cry. Even when she wanted to give in to tears for all the people caught in the anger from one man’s jealousy.
“He did it. Everything. He bragged about all the explosions and fires. I thought he wanted money, but I think it was about my job. He’s... I think he’s just crazy.” She lifted her hands, stained with his blood. “I really need this off me. Now. Get it off. Where’s a restroom?” She jerked free from his hold and rubbed her hands up and down her thighs.
&
nbsp; “Megan. Megan, look at me.” Jack shook her shoulders a little and forced her to keep eye contact with him. “Babe, you’re in shock. We’re going outside and we’ll get you cleaned up. I promise.”
“Okay.”
She let him guide her through the fire trucks, the ambulances, the bomb-squad guys removing their gear and the too-many-to-count police officers.
“Hey, Slate. Give me a hand.”
A man wearing a Texas Ranger badge ran up to them, slapping Jack on his shoulder. “I told those guys you were too smart to go down with a building.”
“Megan’s in shock, probably needs to be checked out—”
“I’m fine,” her voice said in one of those moments when a person was doing things, but totally unsure how. She stood straight, patted Jack’s hands and kept walking toward an ambulance. “But I am seriously wet. Think they have a blanket?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
As often as Jack had looked at Therese, she’d never made eye contact. Not even when they wheeled Wade past everyone on a stretcher. Now the woman behind Jack’s rescue at the border was in handcuffs along with the men who had been fighting. They were all on their knees, shoulder to shoulder at the edge of the street.
Jack had been watching them until his company commander ordered him to have his injuries looked at by the EMTs. He finally joined Megan at the edge of the commotion.
“Not only am I homeless, I’m also phoneless.” Megan set her cell on the hood of the police car, then twisted her T-shirt, wringing water from the bottom. “I have no way to contact any person I know.”
“But you still have your health.” Jack picked up the blanket and hung it around her shoulders.
She sneezed. “I’m not too sure about that anymore.”
“So I was thinking...” Jack rubbed his chin, contemplating. “I sort of need a date for homecoming Friday and Saturday. Want to come and...um...sleep with me again?”
The meaning wasn’t lost on Megan. She winked and smiled. “You’re ready for me to sink your battleships?”
The first responders standing near enough to overhear gave them a weird look. They weren’t a part of the inside joke.
“You can try.” He leaned in closer. “But we both know who was winning.”
“In all honesty, I’m not sure I’m the appropriate date for your homecoming. I was raised where football is what Americans call soccer. My senior year in Texas, I totally didn’t get what football fever was all about.”
“Then that’s a date. You need someone to explain everything and treat you right.”
“Of course, this is all contingent on our names being cleared—by someone other than your father. And giving whatever statement is needed to put that terrible creep—” meaning Balsawood “—in jail forever.”
“I still think we can make it home by Thursday.”
Home? She didn’t have a home any longer. Straightening that out would be a nightmare.
“I can see where your mind went. The wheels are spinning about how you’re going to get everything done and where to start.”
“How do you do that?” No one had been able to read her so well before.
“There will be enough time next week to start the slow bureaucratic insurance and paperwork. Right now I think you need a break. Come with me.”
He put his hand firmly on the small of her back and guided her to a man placing a white hat on his balding head. “Major Clements, this is Megan Harper. She saved Wade’s life.”
“Nicely done, Miss Harper. I must apologize that you were put in that position.” He took her hand, clasping it between both of his. “Thank you for your courage this weekend and for the help in bringing these men to justice.”
“I think it was a team effort, and I was glad to be a part of it. Especially since they protected me so well.” Lost house and all. She was alive, and she’d met Jack. And he was worth every on-the-run, nerve-racking minute.
“Fair warning, sir. I don’t consider that Megan was either a prisoner or a witness for the past four days. I’ll be referring to our encounter as a favor for a fellow ranger. It might complicate things, but it’s the truth.” Jack took her hand in his, leaving no doubt in his commander’s mind.
“I don’t believe it complicates matters too much, Jack. Just tell the truth.”
She waited for the commander of Company B to leave before she gave Jack a stinky look. “Why did you do that?”
“Tell the truth?”
“You could have given me a heads-up you were going to tell the world about us. Especially since there isn’t an us.”
“Oh, come on. I didn’t—No, forget that. I very much intended for everyone around here to know you’re my girl. Give me this weekend. See if we can have some fun instead of wading through freezing rivers. Deal?”
“Your girl?” She kept walking, not staying mad at him if she ever had been. Irritated maybe, but not angry. “Okay, but there better be food in the refrigerator.” She turned to him and poked him in the chest. “Real food, Jack. Something that goes in the microwave and comes out ready to eat.”
He caught her hand, entwining his fingers through hers. “I’ll be sure to stop by the frozen-pizza section.”
“Damn straight.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Yesterday, Jack had experienced one of the longest days in his career as a law officer. Interview after interview. Grand-jury testimony next week. Closed depositions. Waiting was the only break, and that was more painful than testifying.
But his part was over for the weekend. They’d flown back to Austin and rented a car for the rest of his vacation in Liberty Hill. Driving by what was left of Megan’s house depressed her. Thank God he’d already convinced her to stay with him for homecoming.
Megan was officially on leave until she was cleared for work again. She kept insisting she was fine, but he was glad her department realized she needed time to recover.
Today had been full of last-minute homecoming details, an alumni dinner and a private chat with his dad. In fact, the last bit had been Jack leaning into the passenger window of his dad’s car. He’d been floored when his dad agreed with him and finally accepted that Jack was happy as a Texas Ranger.
Maybe he’d run for office after he retired, but for now...this was what he wanted. He came inside a dark house, locking the door after him and believing that Megan had already gone to bed. A couple of steps in, she lit candles.
“How’s Wade? You called him at dinner, right?” she asked.
“The swelling’s gone. No permanent damage. I don’t know how they’re sure of that. I mean, maybe he already had brain damage, considering how erratic his behavior was prior to this thing.”
“How can we be mad at him? He’s the reason we’re here, together. And Therese, of course.”
“I’ll be filling out paperwork because of him for a month. But let’s not talk about my partner or your friend who’s undercover for who knows who.”
Wade was officially still his partner this week. Jack had spoken to him long enough to confirm he’d been released from the hospital that afternoon. As Megan turned around from the kitchen table, any thought about his partner flew out the window.
She untied the belt around the robe before she sat on the couch. She curled her legs under her but left the robe open, teasing him with what was underneath.
“Uh... I see you’ve made yourself at home.”
Covered in as many pieces of clothing as she’d worn when he’d carried her to bed last weekend, Megan had a brand-new Battleship game set up for them to play.
“You ready to finish our game? If I remember correctly, you were down to your jeans.”
Off came his boots, socks and shirt. He grabbed a couple of beers and planned his board from the other end of the couch.
The matches went back and forth, and the room got
warmer and warmer as they shed one piece of clothing at a time. Hotter still when he called out what should be the last letter and number. “B nine.”
“Oh. Darn.” She pouted without conviction. She stood and the robe dropped off each shoulder, leaving her beautifully naked, taking his breath away. “You sank my battleship.”
* * *
MEGAN ALREADY KNEW that Texans took their football seriously. But she’d never witnessed high-school football champions or the rally to create more.
Everywhere they walked through town, people came up and shook Jack’s hand. They’d use his nickname, he’d roll his eyes, but the smile on his handsome face never wavered. Then, without fail—woman or man, old or young—each would ask who she was and if they were an item. It was cute, if not exhausting.
And she secretly loved every minute.
Along with past homecoming kings and queens, Jack was introduced from the sidelines as the quarterback and captain who had last won the state championship. He held Megan’s hand in his and waved to the crowd with the other.
“Tell me the truth. Did you know the school was going to retire your jersey?” Megan asked. “You seemed genuinely surprised.”
“They’ve only retired two jersey numbers before. No one dropped a hint.” He set the framed jersey against the fence, picked her up and twirled her around. The band was still coming off the field, and several of the drummers made kissy noises.
“There is only one response to juveniles. Lead by example.” Megan kissed Jack with a lot of self-restraint, keeping it PG-13. When she was done, he let her feet touch the ground again to a round of high-school applause.
They sat in the stands, and everyone in the town of Liberty Hill and some from Leander—including Carl Ray and Nelva—stopped by to say hello and congratulations. The team won the football game and would be heading for the playoffs the following week.
Football game over, the nachos and popcorn eaten and with all but a few of the crowd returning to their homes, Jack walked her to the car. They strolled past the storefront windows decorated with “Beat the Bobcats” on the way back to the rental parked behind the police department.