by Angi Morgan
The deceit was a necessary evil. No one could know he was a Texas Ranger. Mitch would find the rat—or ratette—and move on without anyone knowing. It was his job and he’d move up and down the border as long as the cover held.
He watched the men in the parking lot from inside the garage. The window opened toward the main road. Just a standard-looking gas station with a two-bay garage.
“That pole you’re leaning on used to be covered in grease.” Brandie handed him ice wrapped with a bar towel.
He shrugged, knowing it had taken a full day to clean it up. “I didn’t have a lot to do until word got around I could tune an engine.”
“I wish I could give you a raise.”
Would she offer him money to keep his mouth shut? Was that dread creeping into his mind that she might actually be the cartel’s contact? His job would be over if she was supplying the information. He could move on to the next assignment. Leave.
There was no way she was responsible for the drug and gun shipments getting across the border without detection. She couldn’t be. His head was ready to memorize her words and something else grounded him to the pole he’d worked hard to clean up.
“I like it here.” The word amazed passed through his mind. First that he’d admitted it out loud and second that it was true.
“That’s good because I’m paying you more than I can afford as it is. Dad and I argue about it all the time. Thank goodness nothing was stolen or I’d never hear the end of it.” She pulled the T-shirt over her pajama top and greeted the sheriff.
Funny, he didn’t remember handing it to her. Just like he didn’t remember exactly when he’d realized he was glad she wasn’t married. Damn, he needed to catch this informant and move on before something emotional happened to him.
Chapter Two
Brandie was dead on her feet. The only real crowd the café had was at breakfast and, of course, it was her morning to open. Between Rey’s threats and his minion’s visit, she hadn’t caught a wink of sleep. Zubict’s name and northern accent was enough proof for her that Rey had expanded his association.
Her feet were dragging, and she felt emotionally bruised. Mitch, her father and the sheriff had spoken to her like she should know more than she’d told them. It didn’t matter that she did. She’d never given them reason to doubt her before.
“I can handle the café if you want some shut-eye,” Mitch said just behind her.
Rey and his men had bothered her with infrequent phone calls until two weeks ago when the visits began. Her parents hadn’t picked up on the additional stress. She thought she’d hidden it from everyone, but the concern in Mitch’s expression made her doubt she could hide anything from him for long.
“I’m fine. Really.” She had just enough time to pick up Toby, get them both dressed, drop him at day care and head back for morning setup.
Mitch put a hand on hers as she unlocked the café door for the cook. “I can take Toby by the day care then. That is, if you trust me.”
His hand was strong and oh so warm—even through two T-shirts earlier. They’d probably touched more in the past couple of hours than the entire time he’d been working there. His touch had a calming effect on her that she was really enjoying.
“He’s at my mom’s, remember? Besides, you’re the one who should be getting some rest. Is your head okay? Why don’t you keep the garage closed this morning or take the entire day off? I’ll get Sadie to bring you a breakfast special before she opens.” He’d already saved her once, whether he knew it or not. Even lying unconscious on the floor had stopped Zubict from acting on what his eyes suggested each time he showed up. It gave her the creeps.
She slowly withdrew the key from the front bolt, her hand still covered by one of the most mysterious men she’d ever known. Wait! Tobias Ryland had been mysterious once and look where that had landed her. She glanced at her hand, and Mitch dropped it.
“I appreciate the offer, I really do. But this is my responsibility and I’ll see it through.”
“You got it. I’m going to hit the shower and grab a protein drink. Don’t bother Sadie’s routine. I’d rather— She’s sort of— Seriously, I—” He walked to the gas station entrance seeming a bit flustered at the thought of meeting her newest waitress.
I sure do hope they aren’t a thing. She got another whiff of his wonderful scent.
How? Oh, yes, she had his shirt around her. Extralarge and yet there wasn’t an ounce of fat on the man. At her average height she felt like a midget next to him. He was well over six feet. She hadn’t figured out if he dwarfed men by his height or just his presence.
Whatever it was, she wasn’t alone. Sadie and the rest of the staff had taken notice. The high school boys she used for dishwashers never opened their mouths when he stood guard at the door. Stood guard? Yes, that’s how he presented himself. He never really appeared...casual.
Mitch didn’t seem to talk much and offered his opinion even less. Maybe that was why when he did offer, she listened. He made suggestions about the garage and waited for her to respond, to think about it. Unlike Glen Yost, the last mechanic who went to her father with every problem and potential scheme to get customers.
When her dad gave orders, Mitch responded that she was the one who had hired him and had stated—not bragged—that it was his skill that brought in business. And he was right. The garage was no longer a liability. She was grateful to him, but she couldn’t take advantage of his kindness to drop Toby at his school. The old-fashioned cola clock above the café door was straight up on the hour. She’d be late, but no, she couldn’t impose even when it would clearly help.
She wouldn’t ask her parents to drop Toby at day care, either. She’d hear endless advice about how to manage her life better. Most likely they’d keep him at their house instead of taking him to day care. But the most important reason was that she honestly missed him and wanted that morning connection with her son. A brand-new day presented itself with enormous possibilities. Neither of them were normally bogged down with problems or frustrations. So she’d pick Toby up and desperately try to get her morning under control.
“Hi, Brandie. I heard you had some excitement around here this morning. Did they get away with anything?” Sadie stowed her purse next to the safe in the storeroom. She sashayed to the coffeemaker, now perking and gurgling the first of its many pots for customers.
“Mitch seems to have interrupted them before they could make off with something important.” She hated lying, but this was only half a lie. He really did interrupt Zubict.
“Oh, that poor man. Does he need someone to take care of him today? So is Mitch a dream without his shirt on? I heard he got caught in just his boxers.”
Sadie popped a hip to one side, flipping her dress and showing off her legs. She constantly said her calves were her best feature and that she could give anyone a pair if they attended her aerobic classes in Alpine. Brandie had tried to find it one day while she was shopping, but hadn’t had any luck. It wouldn’t have mattered, she couldn’t afford to attend anyway.
“It’s amazing that you’ve already heard anything. But please don’t repeat that rumor. He was wearing jeans.”
Brandie was lucky to have Sadie Dillon, even if it was for only three days a week. A flirty thirtysomething who was an adequate cook. She could make a lot more money anywhere else, but said she enjoyed the company here. Thank goodness they all got along. Competent help was one of the reasons her dad had turned the management of the café and garage over to her.
“Did you count to see if he had a six-pack? Were his abs as yummy as I think they are?”
“I did not look at his chest,” she lied terribly, giggling like a teenage girl behind her hand.
“Oh, yes, you did. Brandie Ryland, you are such a tease.” She switched legs, popping her opposite hip, smacking a piece of gum and twirling a dark brown curl just below her ear. “I guess you didn’t have time to take a picture.”
“Of course not. Oh, gosh, it’s gett
ing late.” She accepted a to-go cup of coffee from Sadie. “I’ve got to get Toby.”
“Good thing he was with your parents last night.”
“If he’d been at home, I would have gotten Dad to come up here and I wouldn’t be late. I better run.”
Almost to her parents’ home, her mother phoned and volunteered to take Toby to day care. Brandie didn’t ask for favors, but when her mother volunteered, she accepted. She hated not to see him. He always put her in a good mood. Getting back to the café earlier would help.
Not making the stop at her parents’ would speed up her timetable tremendously. Dropping Toby would only take twenty minutes, but she always allowed a good half hour to pick her son up. She’d answer her mother’s questions and listen to her advice on how she’d run the café until her father’s heart attack had changed everything.
Brandie had too much to think about and didn’t need to dwell on how her life had changed in the blink of an eye.
At the moment, all she had to do was shower and get back on the job. She didn’t have to worry about anything or anyone. She sighed a deep release and was immediately surrounded by Mitch’s manly scent. She’d gone an entire four or five minutes without thinking about him. He could have been hurt much worse and it would have been her fault.
She had a good life and no one, especially Rey King, was going to take it from her. She’d drawn a line in the sand this morning. It wouldn’t take long to see who he’d send to cross over.
Had she really thought that she had nothing to worry about? Whatever was in the garage, those scum buckets needed Mitch to leave. The suggestion this morning was for Brandie to ask him to stay at her place.
That was absurd. She was his boss. They didn’t have any attraction to each other...at least none she could act on. Stop. It would do no good to lie to herself. She was strongly attracted to Mitch Striker. Who wouldn’t be?
She’d counted his abs all right. It had taken a great deal of willpower to caress his head for injuries instead of his chest.
* * *
MITCH COULD BE in the middle of nowhere five minutes after leaving most of the towns where he’d been stationed for undercover work. It made it easy to meet handlers and made it difficult to find the bastards breaching the border.
After refusing Brandie’s offer of a day off, he’d contacted his counterpart on this operation. They could meet at noon instead of the dead of night.
Mitch had worked with a different Ranger in each of the cities where he’d landed a job. Most places he stayed two or three months, tops. Presidio County’s problems were bigger.
Officially a part of a task force set up by the Homeland Security Customs and Border Protection Office, he was the member no one knew about. With the exception of Cord McCrea. This task force had been attempting to bring down a well-organized gun-and drug-smuggling operation for several months.
The West Texas task force had already caught two criminal leaders and stopped two major gun shipments to Mexico.
The Rangers believed someone had picked up the pieces of those organizations. So quickly that it seemed he’d planned their demise. Each successful takedown was important, but within weeks the smugglers had another operation up and running. And now the new principal player wanted something from Brandie.
He’d never seen this place in the daylight and didn’t think Cord would use his truck—one that everyone in the county could spot. But he still watched the road instead of the trail behind him. Then he heard a horse galloping toward him.
“I’ve been looking in the wrong direction. For some reason, I didn’t think you’d be riding up on a horse.”
“I do live on a ranch,” Cord said, dropping the reins next to the car. “Didn’t you know this was Kate’s property?”
“I figured. Did you bring it?”
“Your conk on the head has made the rounds about town. Kate even asked me about it.” Cord took a holstered weapon from his saddlebag. “I only had a spare SIG. I have to report your Glock missing.”
“I know. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t mention it to our friend the sheriff. Sure wish you could let Pete in on this soiree. He might threaten me less with a jail stay. It might even make our conversations a little more productive.” Mitch leaned on the old car he used while undercover. He’d worked on the engine until it purred.
“I will when the time’s right. I’d like to keep the fact you’re on the task force under wraps as long as possible. You need anything besides the gun?”
“Some background on Brandie Ryland and her family.”
“What’s Brandie— Wait a minute, are you saying that Brandie hit you over the head with a pipe?”
“It was a lug wrench and no. She let a guy into the shop, and he hit me over the head. I heard a noise and was eating concrete before I saw his face.” He rubbed his chin, which had begun to feel as bruised as his lump. “I did manage a good look at his shoes. Not boots. Real nice, not local stock if you know what I mean. Had a bit of a northern accent.”
Mitch had met Cord in street clothes many times. This time, he looked more the part of a cowboy. A Stetson that had seen better days, but he wouldn’t retire. He’d overheard stories at the café about that hat and how even a winter blizzard couldn’t blow it off his head.
“This guy threatened Toby just before he left,” he added. “I don’t think it’s the first time, either.”
“That’s not good. You think Brandie’s the informant we’re trying to find?” Cord asked while patting his horse’s thick neck.
“I don’t know. Maybe. There are a couple of other new people in town. The Dairy Queen took on a new face and Brandie’s waitress would hear a lot of talk.”
“Anything pointing you in their direction?”
“Not anything I can pinpoint.” He didn’t care for indecisiveness.
The more he looked away from Brandie, the more it seemed he shouldn’t.
Every instinct in him told him to protect Brandie, that she hadn’t been capable of fooling him for six months. Yet he had to be truthful. If Brandie was guilty, there was nothing he could do to save her.
“I’ll add that I agree Brandie doesn’t seem the type. Not from what I’ve picked up on. It sounded like the cartel might have found a way to force her to cooperate with threats or something in her past.”
“I’ll check with headquarters.” Cord flipped the end of the reins he held and dismounted.
“Is there a but in that statement?”
“I don’t see her betraying all the people around here. This is a close community. I’ve known Brandie’s parents a while now. Kate’s known the Quinn family her whole life.”
“I’ll remind you, sir, of what you wrote when you requested someone to come in undercover. You wanted a new set of eyes to look over the people out here— including your friends. That’s why I’m here. A new look. I’ll stay close to her and see if I can pick up on anything.”
“You’ve been darn close to her for six months. Hell, you live there.” The horse nickered and tossed its head at Cord’s tension. “Take it easy, Ginger. Wait. Don’t tell me you’re going to saddle up next to her. As in date Brandie? She hasn’t dated anyone since moving home.”
“It’s the only way. She was on the verge of telling me something before the sheriff showed up this morning. I think she’ll confide in me if I can get her away from the café.”
“Just be careful. I like Brandie. She’s bounced back after a rough go of it when her husband died. If she’s involved... Honestly, I just don’t believe she is.” Cord dropped his head enough that his hat covered his face.
“That’s the rancher, not the Ranger talking.” But it was good to know his instincts about Brandie weren’t just because he was attracted to her. “I’ll get to the truth. You’re aware that I don’t prejudge.”
“Fine.” He mounted, his feisty horse kicked up dust as it turned in a circle then settled down. “You sure you’re okay and don’t need to have your head checked out?”
“Naw, two aspirin took care of the pain.” Mitch had his hand on the door handle of his old sedan.
“If you’re going to date Brandie, I’m officially reminding you not to sleep with her. You shouldn’t get involved with a suspect.”
“What kind of a man do you think I am?”
“One with eyes. That young woman is attractive in more ways than you can count, and her kid has a serious daddy crush on you. I mean that in a good way, Mitch. He needs an authority figure. I don’t think you meant to, but you’re providing it when you spend time with him.” He pushed his hat lower on his forehead. “Just be careful. For both your sakes.”
“Careful. Got it.”
Mitch had never thought of the way Toby liked hanging out with him as a daddy crush. But come to think about it, he’d done exactly the same thing with his father on more than one occasion as he’d grown up. His dad had taught him everything he knew about repairing a car. It had been their thing every other weekend. The only thing that got them through the first years after his parents divorced.
He could act the role of a concerned boyfriend without blowing his cover. He did need to be careful, though. He could really get into playing both roles—temporary daddy and boyfriend.
Chapter Three
“What a day.” Brandie wiped the last booth and dropped the wet vinegar-soaked cloth over her shoulder. Exhausted seemed like a word with too much energy. She had none. “I’ve never had the stamina to pull all-nighters, back in college or when Toby was an infant. I feel terrible.”
The evening cook had finished his cleanup and headed for home. Brandie looked through the serving window where her mechanic put the last of the dishes away.
“I sure am glad you could help out this afternoon, Mitch. I had no idea we’d get busy after I sent the staff home. But I think we made bread money this month.”
“Not a problem. Do buses normally just pull up outside with no warning?”