“Then that leaves Alexandrov. Why would he kill his own man?”
“We don’t know who the man is for sure. He might not be Alexandrov’s hired gun. And for the record, I do agree that Alexandrov doesn’t have a reason to have killed him and staged the body outside his door. It’s not like he has to strike terror into the people around him. I think they’re sufficiently scared of the man. This wasn’t about proving himself to anyone.”
“Then what’s it about?”
“Good question. I don’t have an answer. If I did, I wouldn’t be so upset.”
“Okay.” She took her chair again. “What happened to your SUV?”
“There was a bomb connected to the ignition. When I hit the start button on my key chain, my car exploded. Thankfully without me inside. But I was nearby and was knocked to the pavement. It took a while for the ringing in my ears to stop. At least now I can hear you clearly.”
“Where did this happen? At the crime scene?”
“No, the police station parking lot.”
“That’s bold. That sounds like either the Russians or Dos Huesos Cruzados. You still don’t think they are behind the dead guy in the alley?”
“I can’t shake the feeling someone is wanting all this to look like it’s one of them behind it.”
“Why stir up these two groups? They’re already at each other’s throats. What is accomplished by doing that?”
“I don’t have an answer, but we can’t rule out that someone else has an agenda here.”
“But also you can’t rule out that it’s one of them doing it.”
Brody raised his mug to his mouth and sipped. “No, a good detective has to keep all his options open. So we’ll continue to investigate all possibilities. The task force is taking over the murder of the guy in the alley. First order of business is to find out who he is. Alexandrov wasn’t forthcoming on the man’s ID.” Yawning, he took another drink of his coffee. “I think I’m going to need the whole pot to stay awake.”
“Why are you staying awake? Go to bed. You look like you need it.”
“How about you? Have you been up since I left?”
“No, I slept for four hours. More than you have.”
“Four hours? That’s not enough for you. You want to be fresh for the trial next week.”
“Sleep is overrated.”
“Sure. If you say that enough, maybe you can convince yourself it’s true. Tell you what. I’ll go to bed if you’ll go back to sleep.”
She glanced toward the bay window near the table, but the blinds were closed. “It’ll be morning soon.”
“So, sleep in late.”
“With Kim in my room, I doubt that will happen.”
He rose, took his mug and hers to the sink, then came back to her. Clasping her hand, he tugged her toward the hallway. “C’mon. I’ll walk you to your bedroom, then I promise I’ll crash in mine.”
As she mounted the wide staircase next to Brody, she kept her hand within his grasp, enjoying the connection. “Are you really okay?”
“I will be, with some sleep. I have a few stitches and a headache, but nothing that time won’t take care of.”
At her door she shifted around to look at him. She ran her finger lightly over a cut on his cheek and then over another on his brow.
He caught her hand and held it still. “Flying debris. It could have been worse.”
“Yeah, you could have been blown up. I don’t want anything to happen to you because of me. I couldn’t live with myself if it did.”
He pulled her closer, flat up against him, and cradled her head between his palms. “It’s my job, Rebecca, and I’ll do what has to be done to keep you safe.”
His fervent words caused a shiver to run down her. “Why would someone put a bomb in your car in the police station parking lot?”
“Don’t know. Before I went to the hospital, Charlie and I viewed the security tapes from the parking lot. A mediumsized man was seen hanging around, but he wore a ball cap, pulled low, and his face wasn’t visible on the tape.”
“Like in the hospital.”
“He knew where the cameras were and made sure he wasn’t caught on tape. I’m sending the tape to the lab to see if they can pull anything off of it, but I think it’s a dead end.”
“At least we know a medium-sized man is involved.”
“So we’re looking for a man about five feet nine or ten inches. That narrows it down to a few hundred thousand,” he said with a laugh.
“And if he was hired to do the job, it still doesn’t tell us who is behind it.”
He ran his fingers through her hair. “Your optimism overwhelms me.”
She sighed. “Sorry. I’m usually a regular Pollyanna. I’ll do better next time.”
His chuckle died on his lips as he stared into her eyes. A fire blazed in their gray depths, which drew her even closer. He tilted his head and placed his mouth over hers. The kiss started gently but quickly evolved into a fierce possession. Brody wrapped his arms around Rebecca, plastering her against him.
For a few seconds she couldn’t believe Brody was kissing her, but soon that thought fled, to be replaced with a building desire for the kiss to continue. She gave into the sensations rampaging through her—heady ones—feelings of safety, of femininity . . . of love. Suddenly, she remembered the danger in continuing.
Rebecca pushed away from him, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Drawing one deep breath after another, she tried to compose herself as she put some space between them. She tried to grasp onto a thread of sanity, logic. All she had to do was look at his bandaged arm and the cuts on his face to know that there could never be anything between them. Ever. She had lost one man to this kind of job. She couldn’t again.
“I could tell you I’m sorry I did that, but I’m not. I’ve wanted to do that for a while now. I’ve always wondered if things had been different eleven years ago, what—”
She laid two fingers over his mouth. “I can’t love another cop.” Grief hardened each word—firming up her determination. She quickly fled into her bedroom, quietly closing the door behind her.
She checked the bed, the slit of light from the bathroom illuminating the room to let her know that her niece was still sleeping. Sighing, she settled into a chair nearby, just before her legs gave out.
Her hands shook. She laced her fingers together to still the quivering. But she couldn’t. It took over her whole body. Clasping her arms across her chest, she relived that amazing kiss. Feeling his need in it. Feeling a part of her defenses crumbling. Feeling her life shift again.
Brody lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He replayed yet again the scene in front of Rebecca’s door an hour ago. Why did he kiss her? To satisfy a youthful fantasy? To see if he felt anything for her other than friendship after all these years? The reason wasn’t important anymore. He couldn’t imagine being anything but an officer of the law. She’d made it clear this evening she could never be involved with someone who was. End of story.
But the realization he wasn’t protected from falling for her inundated him, stirring his anger. He wasn’t going to let her hurt him a second time. He couldn’t change who he was. Maybe eleven years ago, when they flirted with dating before Garrett entered her life, he could have. They were two different people now.
He would do his job and guard her. After that he would move on. Maybe there was someone out there who would accept him for what he was. He’d been a fool to think it might be different this time. Rolling onto his side, he punched the pillow several times then tried to sleep.
Mid-morning on Saturday, Rebecca followed the scent of sausage cooking and coffee brewing to the kitchen, where Tory, Brody, and Sean sat at the kitchen table while Hattie finished making breakfast. “I thought everyone would be long gone by now. I haven’t slept to ten in years.”
“You weren’t the only one. My son did, too, this morning. But not me. I’ve been out with Jake checking the security.” Sean went to the coffeemaker, brough
t back the carafe, and refilled his and Brody’s mugs. Tory indicated she didn’t want any by covering her cup.
“Where are the girls?” Rebecca walked over to the kettle of hot water and fixed herself some tea.
Hattie handed her the sugar bowl. “They’re in the den working on another card for their dad. Tory is heading to the hospital in a while.”
“I’m surprised Kim didn’t wake me when she left my room this morning.”
“She said you were dead to the world.”
Rebecca flinched when Tory said that word.
Her sister-in-law’s eyes grew round. “I’m sorry. That probably isn’t the right word to say under the circumstances, with all that’s happened. Brody was telling us what happened last night. The man who tried to run down you or Kim or both of you was murdered. Frankly, I’m glad he’s been taken care of. One of you could have died if that young man hadn’t saved you. What was his name?”
“Rob Clark.” Rebecca sat at the far end of the table from Brody. His kiss last night had surprised her. Years ago she’d thought they might date, but nothing ever came of it and then she had met Garrett.
“Ah, yes, Rob Clark. Kim has mentioned him a couple of times.”
“She’s been talking about him?” Rebecca sipped her tea, her gaze sliding to Brody and catching him looking at her. Her pulse rate kicked up a notch.
“Just this morning she wanted to make him a card and write him a thank-you note.” Hattie set the platter of sausages and pancakes on the table.
“She told me he was cute.” Tory took a couple of pancakes and passed the plate to Sean.
“Who’s cute?” Kim asked as she came into the room with Aubrey right behind her.
“That young man who saved me.”
“You think so, too?” Kim put a card on the counter and came to sit at the table. “I want to make him a card. I started one, but I don’t know where to send it. Mr. Calhoun, can you call him and get his address?”
With his gaze linked to Rebecca’s, Brody said, “Sure, if it’s okay with Rebecca and Tory.”
“Aunt Becky? Tory?”
“Of course you can. He did a good deed that day. So many people nowadays don’t. They don’t want to get involved.” Tory grabbed the pitcher of orange juice and poured herself some. “I’m so grateful he did. I think that’s a nice gesture. If he’s still in town, I think we should see if he’d like to come to dinner one evening.”
“That’s a good suggestion.” Rebecca drenched her pancakes in syrup, trying not to look at Brody anymore.
Kim clapped her hands. “I like that. Hattie could help me make a cake for him.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Brody said, producing a pout on the ten-year-old’s face.
“Why not? We’ve got to eat. He has to, too.” Hattie added another batch of pancakes to the platter.
“Well . . .” Brody scanned the people staring at him. “Sure. I can extend an invitation to him. Which night?”
“I’ve got a better idea. You give me his number and I’ll invite him. This time I won’t accept no for an answer.” Rebecca went to the counter, where a pad and pencil were kept.
“That’s great, Aunt Becky. And we won’t need his address. I can give him the card in person. We can show him around the ranch. Maybe he likes to ride.”
The enthusiasm in her niece’s voice made Rebecca smile. She had been having nightmares about nearly getting run down by the pickup. Seeing Rob and treating him to dinner might help her put the incident behind her. “Honey, let’s take it one step at a time. First I need to get him to agree to come to dinner. There probably won’t be a lot of time to go riding.”
For the past few weeks J. R. had been watching his target, waiting for the opportunity to make his move. She usually didn’t do things during the week in any kind of order so that he could predict where she was going to be and be there before her. But the past two Saturdays he’d found that she did have a routine on that day. He was counting on it. It was time he set up the next part of his plan.
Sitting at a game table in the nursing home, he let the old man across from him win at checkers.
“Beat ya again.” The man cackled and reset the board.
J. R. grinned. “I told ya I wasn’t too good at this game. Sure I’m not boring you?”
“Nah. I like winning.” Vinnie made his first move.
J. R.’s disposable cellphone rang. There was only one person who had the number. The Texas Ranger. He scooted his chair back and said, “Excuse me. I have to answer this. Hang on, and I’ll be back in a sec.”
As he walked to a corner that afforded him some privacy, he glimpsed Laura Melton coming into the rec center, heading right for Vinnie, who was the woman’s grandfather and who had dementia.
His smile grew as he answered the phone. “Hello.”
“Is this Rob Clark?” a female voice asked.
“Yes,” he said, a bit leery.
“This is Rebecca Morgan, the lady you saved last weekend.”
J. R. relaxed and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “You’ve been keeping yourself out of trouble, I hope.”
“Yes, and if you’ll agree, I’ll be able to make a young girl happy. Kim would really like you to come to the ranch for dinner next week. Actually, I hope you’ll come, too. We both owe you more than a thank-you. How about a home-cooked meal by one of the best chefs in Texas?”
“You?”
“Oh, no. That’ll never be, but my brother’s housekeeper is great.”
“Which night?”
“That depends on you. We can work around your schedule.”
J. R. slanted his glance toward Laura, who was sitting with her grandfather. This was turning out to be a great day. “How about Wednesday? I have some free time.”
“Great. Is six o’clock okay with you?”
“Fine, ma’am. Where do you live?”
Rebecca gave him directions to the ranch, which he was very familiar with, having cased it for the past month. He’d even seen the cattle rustlers checking the place out.
“I’ll see you at six on Wednesday. By the way, what’s your favorite cake?”
“Cake?”
“Yes, Kim wants to make you one. Don’t worry. She’ll have Hattie’s help. Is it carrot cake?”
“Yes.” He couldn’t remember the last time someone had baked him a cake. His twelfth birthday?
After disconnecting, he covered the distance to the table where Vinnie and Laura were seated. He paused between them. For a few seconds he remembered that cake his sister had baked for him on his birthday, before everything fell apart. The icing had been runny and the cake too dry, but he’d loved every bite.
Laura Melton glanced up at him while Vinnie gave him a confused look.
“Can I help you?” she asked, one brow lifted.
“I was playing a game of checkers with Vinnie. He wanted to beat me again.” J. R. gestured toward the checkerboard set up on the table.
“Who are you?” Vinnie’s forehead wrinkled.
“I’m Jim Howard. I’m a volunteer here.” J. R. swung his attention from Vinnie to Laura, flashing her a smile. “I’ve volunteered on Sundays but needed to change my day.” To make his cover story ring true, he had actually come the last two Sundays for an hour and played checkers with Vinnie, though he never remembered him from week to week. “Do you usually work with Vinnie at this time?”
“Usually. Vinnie is my grandfather. Have you played checkers with him before?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He lowered his voice and leaned toward her to say, “Every week, but he forgets.”
She bent closer to him. “I know. On good days he remembers me.” Then sitting back, she said more loudly, “Jim, please join us. Grandpa loves to play checkers. He has all his life.”
“Thanks, ma’am.”
“Please don’t call me ma’am. It makes me sound so old.”
“My mama always told me to say that as a sign of respect. It has nothing to do w
ith age, especially in this case.” His gaze captured hers and held it.
“I’m Laura Melton.” She presented her hand.
He shook it. “Nice to meet you—Laura.”
Her brown eyes twinkled. “Much better.” For a few extra seconds she held the visual connection before turning to her grandfather. “Grandpa, Jim wants to play checkers. Are you up for a game?”
Vinnie cackled and rubbed his hands. “When am I not? I’m the champ.”
“Yes, Grandpa, you are.” Laura moved to the chair between Vinnie and J. R.
He took his seat again, sliding a glance at Laura. For forty, she wasn’t too bad. He could certainly romance her until he gained her confidence. Revenge is best savored slowly, according to Mama.
10
Sunday afternoon, Rebecca sat on Angel Fire, staying off to the side of the rest of the group riding. Tomorrow, the first witness who had been in protective custody would testify. At this point the two main witnesses for the prosecution were ready to go. But anything could happen between now and when they testified. Every precaution was being made, but just thinking about the next couple of days knotted her stomach into a hard mass.
“Thanks for talking me into going riding with you, the kids, and,” Laura peered over her shoulder, “your protection.”
“Ranger Parker is a good rider,” Rebecca remarked.
“So is your Texas Ranger.”
“Mine?”
“Isn’t he a long-time friend?”
“Yes, but that’s all.” Pulling her cowboy hat lower, she looked sideways at Brody, who was talking to her nieces. The girls enjoyed being with him. He took time for them and never tired of answering their hundreds of questions about his job.
“It’s okay to be interested in a man again.”
Laura had married her high school sweetheart, who had died five years ago, serving his country. That was one of the reasons Rebecca and she had become such good friends. Laura knew what she had gone through when Garrett was killed. “I know. Has anything come of your flirting with Charlie?”
Scorned Justice: The Men of Texas Rangers Series #3 (Men of the Texas Rangers) Page 12