by Diana Palmer
"Danger attracts some women like honey attracts flies."
He gave her a wicked glance. "Does it? Let's test that theory. How about a nice game of billiards?"
"Oh, no," she groaned. "Not back to the underworld again!"
"You went there with Grier," he pointed out. "Why can't you go with me? I'm just as mean as he is, and I can coax people to talk to me, too."
"I like you better than I like him," she said absently.
"Why?"
Josette met his searching eyes. "He can't cook."
He burst out laughing.
The billiard parlor, despite the hour, was full. If it closed, it closed very late. They found the diminutive Mr. Bartlett bent over a billiard table, making a tricky shot. He finished it, grinned and looked up, right at Brannon.
He put the cue stick down and held up both hands. "I never said a word against the Texas Rangers," he said emphatically. "And I had nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with that attempted hit and run on Judd Dunn last month. I don't know who did, either!"
Josie glanced at Brannon and was surprised at his demeanor. He was alternately teasing and mocking around her, but here, among the local underworld element, he looked downright intimidating. He didn't smile as he moved closer to Bartlett.
"I don't know. I swear, Brannon!" the little man repeated quickly.
"I never said you did," Brannon replied, but he kept coming. "Let's take a little walk."
"Not until you swear in front of witnesses that I'm going to be able to walk, afterward! I've heard stories about you. I'm not taking any chances."
Josie was intrigued. She'd have to ask someone about those stories, later.
"You'll be able to walk," Brannon assured the man. "No Texas Ranger would ever act like a street tough with any witness. We have a tradition to maintain."
"Okay then."
"What about this game?" a heavyset man complained.
"We'll start over when I'm done" he was told.
Brannon and Josie followed the informant out into the dimly lit back alley.
"What do you want, Brannon?" the man asked uneasily.
"I want to know about Jake Marsh's playmate."
There was a harsh, indrawn breath. "Listen, Grier was down here a few days ago, asking me the same question"
"And got zilch for his pains," Brannon finished for him. He moved relentlessly closer to the smaller man, his eyes glittering, unblinking. He stopped an arm's length from the little man and looked down at him. "But you're going to tell me what I want to know. You don't want to get mixed up in a murder. That's not your style."
"No," the other man said after a minute. "It isn't. I'm not going to take a fall for Marsh, I don't care what threats he makes. But he's got something on me"
"It won't do him any good if he's in prison. Now, talk," Brannon interrupted.
"All right." The other man let out a long breath. "He's got some rich woman in his pocket," he said. "He says he's made sure that she has to help him get his hands on that missing ledger. She's got as much to lose as he does if that little package of dynamite shows up in the hands of law enforcement. More, even. He said she wouldn't be rich much longer if that information got into the wrong hands."
"Have you seen her?" Brannon asked curtly.
"Yeah. I've seen her. She's a show horse, I can tell you that. She and Marsh both dress like fashion plates."
Brannon glanced at Josette, who was frowning curiously. That didn't sound like Becky. On the other hand, maybe the blond computer expert Sandra Gates had a hidden wardrobe, and she really was blond. And there was that expensive mint they found in her trailer
"Does Marsh stake the blond?" Brannon asked.
"I don't know stuff that intimate," he said. "All I can tell you is that she's as hard as he is. From what I hear, she was the one who tortured the old lady they killed."
That was chilling stuff. Josette remembered the tough little blond hacker, in her cheap trailer. A woman who'd think nothing of breaking the law to help free a convicted murderer might not stop at torture. But Sandra Gates was in Argentina and couldn't be extradited.
"Have you ever heard of a woman named Sandra Gates?" Josette interjected.
"Gates? Yeah. She can do anything with a computer. Marsh uses her sometimes for investigative work, when he wants to get something on somebody. She's tough as nails." The little man looked worried. "Listen, Brannon, you aren't going to tell Marsh I talked, are you? Because he'd send York after me"
Another piece in the puzzle. That, and the expensive mint in Gates's trailer, began to fit. A tough woman, he'd also said.
"I don't sell out informants. One more question and we're through," Brannon told him. "How was Dale Jennings connected to Marsh and the blonde?"
The little man stopped to light a cigarette with hands that shook, blew out a puff of smoke and chuckled. "That's the best part. Jennings was having an affair with her. Marsh found out and had some pictures made that they didn't know about. Marsh said she went white as a sheet when they told her. Seems her husband wants a divorce and she won't give him one." He chuckled again. "If those pictures got out, she'd have to give him one, wouldn't she?"
Josette's eyebrows arched. If those photos were of Sandra Gates, did she have a secret husband? Or Becky Wilson? Now the puzzle started to fall apart again.
"Okay," Brannon told the smaller man after a minute. "That's all I wanted. Thanks, Bartlett. I won't forget this."
"If Marsh finds out!"
Brannon's fist shot out so fast that Josette never saw it until Bartlett's head rocked back and he was holding his jaw and grimacing. She gasped out loud, but the little man only grinned.
"You can show that to the guys inside," Brannon said pleasantly, and smiled as he nodded toward the closed door of the billiard parlor, "and tell them that I was questioning you about Dunn's close call."
Bartlett laughed through the pain. "Thanks, Brannon. You're all right." He paused. "Just by the by, who did try to run Dunn down? Do you know?"
"No, I don't know. But Judd says he does, sadly for the perpetrator," he added with a chuckle. "Thanks."
"No problem." He smiled, but it was a shaky sort of smile. He walked past Brannon gingerly, and went quickly back into the billiard parlor.
"Sandra Gates," Josette said as soon as the door closed behind the small man. "She's blond, she doesn't hesitate to do illegal things, there was an expensive mint in her trailer, she knows Marsh and she was probably Dale's mysterious girlfriend. She could have been blackmailed by Marsh to help him get the evidence. It all fits!"
"It seems to," he agreed. "But if she's got a husband, he's well hidden, and she doesn't live like a rich wife. There's something else not quite right."
"What?"
Brannon shoved his hands into his pockets. "I don't know," he said irritably. "I can't get it in focus." He glanced at her and smiled. "I'm tired. So are you." He hesitated. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm going to take you back to your hotel instead of my apartment. We'll both have a good night's sleep, and then in the morning, we'll try to put it all together."
"Spoilsport."
He gave her a long look. "Torture is supposed to be against the law," he reminded her with a wicked grin.
Josette hesitated.
"I'll bring your things by the hotel tomorrow. If you need me, I'm as close as the phone," he continued when she was trying to think of a way to tell him something he didn't know yet.
It probably was a good idea to let things cool down, she decided finally. For a day or so, anyway. "Okay," she agreed. She gave him a mischievous look. "If you're through throwing punches at people for the night."
He helped her into the SUV and drove her back to the hotel. "I just noticed something. You're not wearing the sling tonight," he noted.
Josette flexed her arm. "The wound isn't all that bad. I hate the sling. It gets in my way."
"If you see any redness, or feel any heat in it"
"I have a good brain," s
he pointed out.
He just looked at her.
"I'll keep an eye on it," she said with resignation. "Thanks for the crepes."
"You're welcome. I like them myself." Brannon tugged at the nape of her neck. "Come here and kiss me good-night," he murmured in a deep, soft tone that made her tingle all over.
She laughed with delicious anticipation as she leaned toward him. "Want me to read you a story, too?" she whispered.
He smiled as he bent to her mouth. "Sure. How about a nice Agatha Christie murder mystery?"
"We've got a murder of our own to solve. That would be redundant."
Brannon drew her mouth under his and kissed her softly, nibbling on her upper lip until it parted on a husky little sigh.
"I think this is going to be habit-forming," he murmured.
"Do you?"
He drew her closer, wrapping her up in his arms. "Are you sure you want to go back to Austin?" he persisted, and kissed her insistently.
Her whole body went up in flames from the devouring pressure of his warm, hard mouth. She reached up to hold him while she returned the kiss with more enthusiasm than expertise. He didn't seem to mind.
His lips slid across her smooth cheek to her ear. "San Antonio has a lot to offer," he whispered. "A symphony, a ballet, an opera company"
Josette touched his mouth with light, caressing fingertips. She didn't know how to answer him, what to say, what to think. He'd been actively hostile back in Austin, but here he was cooking her crepes and kissing her with such tenderness. Just the thought of not having him in her life after this case was depressing. Her eyes mirrored her troubled thoughts.
Brannon made a sound deep in his throat and kissed her again. This time she clung to him as if he was going to his death. She whimpered as the kiss grew more insistent, more ardent. She felt his hand between them, unfastening buttons again. And then it was there, there, inside her blouse, against her bare skin. She sobbed as he touched her with slow, hungry possession, the palm of his big hand warm against the hard, sensitive nipple
The sound of a car approaching made him lift his head. He looked dazed. His pale eyes went to his hand inside her blouse and his teeth ground together as he withdrew it and rebuttoned the buttons.
"Oh, damn!" she said, and so plaintively that he laughed.
"It's just as well," Brannon said with resignation. "Under the circumstances."
She swallowed. "Actuallywell, you could come upstairs with me," she managed in a strangled tone.
"And do what, Josie?" he asked in a tormented voice. "It's not possible"
"I had it two years ago," she blurted out.
He frowned. "You had what two years ago?"
She cleared her throat and looked at his chest. His heartbeat, quick and hard, was visible against his shirt. She pressed her nervous hands into the warm fabric. "Thatminor surgery," she confessed.
He was very still, and more than a little aroused. His mind wasn't working. He just stared at her, trying to regain his composure.
"Twoyears ago?" he whispered.
She nodded. Her fingers traced around the star on his pocket. "I thoughtyou left because I couldn't," she said in a strangled tone. "So I had the procedure." Her eyes closed in pain. "But you didn't come back. You didn't call, you didn't writeI even went to the Webbs' party because I thought you'd be there, and I could tell you" Her voice trailed off.
"Oh, baby," Brannon whispered huskily. He pulled her close and held her tight, tight, against him. "Baby, I'm so sorry! I was too ashamed to come back."
"Ashamed?" she asked blankly.
His big, lean hands spread tenderly over her back as his face pressed into her warm throat. "When I knew what you were, how innocent you wereI wanted to come back. But you looked at me in the courtroom at Jennings's trial with pure hatred in your eyes. After that" He sighed. "I just got out of town and tried to forget everything."
"I was young and helpless when I was fifteen," she said gently. "I'm not now. You didn't know the truth, Marc. You didn't know. It's all right. I didn't blame you half as much as you've blamed yourself. You're just human."
His arms contracted until the embrace was almost painful. "I should never have left you," he breathed, searching for her mouth. "Never in this life!"
Josette smiled under the hard, rough crush of his lips, feeling the lack of control, the passion that he usually kept under such strict control. He wanted her so badly that he couldn't even contain it. That was flattering, that honest desire. Perhaps it wasn't what she really wanted, but living a lonely, sad life without him seemed worse.
When he stopped to breathe, her lips slid to his ear. "You can come up with me," she whispered, giving in to him without a struggle. After their passionate interlude in his apartment, she was on fire for him.
Brannon didn't answer her. His hands made a leisurely trip up and down her spine and he savored the soft feel of her body against him, the faint scent of roses that clung to her smooth skin.
"No," he said finally.
Josette hadn't expected that answer. She frowned. "Why not?"
"Because I'm not willing to reduce what I feel for you to thirty minutes in a bed."
Her heart lifted. She'd been so certain that he'd take her up on it, that he'd jump at the chance to be intimate with her.
She drew back, trying to see his face.
He caught one of the small hands on his shirt and lifted it, palm-first, to his lips. "And you're not willing to do that, either," he said with conviction, staring her down. "Josie, if seduction was all I'd had in mind, I wouldn't have needed to learn how to make meat loaf and crepes," he pointed out with a wry smile. He kissed her palm again. "You'll never know how I felt when I saw you in the hall outside Simon's office in Austin. Pretending that I was indifferent was the hardest thing I've ever done."
"I thought you hated me!" she whispered.
"I hated myself. In some ways, I still do." He kissed her eyelids closed and his tongue ran softly over her long lashes. "It's been torture having you in the same office with Grier."
"But why?"
"You're the sort of woman he's drawn to." His eyes slid over her delicate features. "You have a quality of tenderness that's very rare."
She touched his hard mouth. "So do you," she whispered.
Brannon drew in a long, heavy breath, and his lean fingers touched the small bandage that remained on her wounded arm. "I've got to do a better job of looking after you."
She smiled. "I can look after myself, usually. But if you want to take care of me, I get to take care of you, too."
The expression made his breath catch. He studied her hungrily. He thought of her in his life, of waking up to her every morning, of carrying her to bed with him every night. He thought of her on the ranch, helping him with routine chores, riding with him, helping feed the occasional stray calf. He'd have someone of his very own, to share the good and bad times with; someone to talk to, someone to comfort him; someone to comfort. And in addition to all that, he'd have her in his bed It made him ache.
"Deep thoughts?" Josette murmured, tracing his thick eyebrows.
"Very deep." He frowned. "Where are your glasses?"
She grinned. "I can see you."
"Me, but nobody else," he said quietly. "Wear them. You can't look out for what you can't see. And don't bother trying to convince me you've got contacts in," he added when she started to speak. "You haven't."
Josette sighed. "Okay. I'll wear them. I just don't like the way I look."
"I do. Glasses make your big, dark eyes look even bigger," he said softly, smiling. "And sexier, if you want the truth."
"I'll rush right out tomorrow and buy three new pairs," she promised.
Brannon traced her nose, watching her with an odd sense of contentment. "Lock your door."
"Why? Are you planning to kick it down and ravish me?" she teased.
"Don't give me any ideas," he cautioned. "I'm still aroused."
Her full, swollen lips pursed. "W
ell, well," she whispered, and started moving closer.
His hands stopped her. "The SUV would bounce," he said deadpan. "People would notice. The police would come. They'd probably send Grier. You have no idea what he's capable of, and let me just mention television cameras and at least one local broadcast news reporter who's terrified of him and would do whatever he asked"
Josette burst out laughing and gave up. "All right, I quit. You're just brutally vivid, aren't you?"
"I'm a Texas Ranger," he pointed out. "See this?" he indicated the silver star in its circle. "Vivid description is part of the job."
She wrinkled her nose at him. "I get the message, loud and clear."
Brannon kissed her one last time. "Make sure you stay locked up tight."
"I will," she replied, opening the door. "But I'd like to know you're locked up tight, too." She glanced back worriedly. "Those men who jumped you," she began. "What if they come back?"
"See this?" he asked, his hand on the butt of his .45 Colt.
She threw up her hands. "Be careful, anyway." She pointed at her heart. "See this?" she tossed back at him. "If anything happens to you, it stops beating."
He smiled tenderly. "I think I knew that already, but it's nice to know for sure. I'll avoid bullets. Good night, sweetheart," he added softly.
Her heart jumped. "Good night, Marc," she replied, equally softly and blew him a kiss before she went into the building. Even then, she stood at the door and watched him drive away. He watched her until he turned into the street. After that, going upstairs was agony.
But she was no sooner in her room than the phone rang. She picked it up.
"Miss Langley?"
"Yes?"
"It's Holliman," the old man said. "I been thinking about what you said, about that something or other that my nephew had. I may have an idea. Could you and the Ranger come out here in the morning? No rush. I'd just like to throw a couple of ideas your way, and not over the telephone. It's making some odd noises lately."
"Certainly. We'll see you in the morning," she said and hung up. Odd noises, huh? She wouldn't have put it past Marsh or one of his cronies to bug old man Holliman's telephone.