by Terri Reed
The thought was heady, yet she had no business thinking of him in any romantic way. Only heartache lay down that road. He lived a life she wanted to leave behind her. A dangerous, unpredictable life. A life that took her father. She tugged the resentment and anger she’d been harboring for so long more securely in place and told herself to be grateful he’d had the self-control to put a stop to the attraction arcing between them. Her own willpower to resist him was in short supply. She could trust that Ben would stay true to his convictions.
She gave a mental scoff. Trust was definitely not one of her issues with Ben.
When he pulled the Jeep to the curb in front of the white, flat-roof building housing the San Antonio professional ballet company, she was out the door with her bag before he’d even turned off the engine. She needed the distance.
He exited and came around the front of the vehicle as an SAPD officer stepped from his cruiser parked nearby. She paused on the walkway as Ben and the officer caught up to her.
The two men shook hands.
“I’ve secured the premises. The only other exit besides the front door has an alarm. I’ve also cautioned the staff to keep all the windows locked.”
“I appreciate that,” Ben said. He turned to Corinna.
“This is Officer Hagerty.”
She nodded a greeting to the older gentleman. “Officer.”
“Miss Pike, I’m sorry for your loss. Your father was a good man,” Officer Hagerty said. His deep voice echoed with sincerity.
Sadness bowed her shoulders. She could only give him a lackluster smile. Clutching her bag to her chest, she turned to go, but Ben’s hand on her arm halted her progress.
“What time should I pick you up?” Ben asked.
The last thing she wanted was to spend more time alone with him. He unsettled her, made her aware of her grief and loneliness, made her want things that could never be. “You don’t need to be my chauffeur.”
Surprise flickered in his gaze. “I don’t mind. It’s part of my job.”
A shaft of anger pierced her. Disconcerted, she said roughly, “I’d rather you concentrated on the part of your job that brings my father’s murderer to justice.”
A pained expression crossed his features.
Her cheeks stung with contrition for lashing out. She took a deep breath before adding in a more careful tone, “I’m sure Officer Hagerty could give me a ride to Gisella’s when I’m ready to leave.”
“Would be my pleasure,” the officer replied.
Ben’s eyebrows drew slightly together. She felt his gaze all the way to her toes. She fidgeted with her bag and couldn’t help returning the favor of staring back.
Finally, he said, “I suppose Officer Hagerty driving you would be okay. Though I was thinking you might want to see Gabby tonight.”
She did miss the feline and could really use a dose of her unconditional love. But that would mean not only more time with Ben, but going to his apartment again. She wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Being too close, too alone with him made her ache with yearnings that had no business invading her life. She didn’t want to get attached, caught up in his world. The same world had taken her father from her.
She had to clear her throat of the yearning before she could answer. “I can see her tomorrow. You mentioned getting me a key.”
“I did. I’ll have one made tonight and bring it by tomorrow morning.”
Why did he keep suggesting they see each other? He couldn’t possibly know she was having trouble keeping her heart from wanting him. Flustered, she stumbled back a step toward the door. “You can just give it to Gisella.”
He blinked. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” She backed up another step, creating more space between them. “I need to go.”
Ben’s lips pressed together in a firm line.
She turned and hurried inside before she could give into the urge to soothe away his upset. She hoped the next time she heard from Ben he’d tell her he’d found her father’s killer, even though logically, she knew it could take months for that to happen. But that was all she wanted from him. Wasn’t it?
After dropping Corinna off at the studio and making sure the officer there was aware of the danger to Corinna’s life, Ben headed back to the Ranger headquarters. He had work to do on Greg’s case, but his mind kept wandering to her. As breakable as she appeared, he kept catching glimpses of a core of steel.
Over the last few days he’d become aware of her on a deep, visceral level and that scared him. He wanted to distance himself, yet at every turn he found himself drawing closer to this complicated and fascinating woman.
The fact that she’d made her feelings clear, that she didn’t want anything to do with him, should make him happy. But he wasn’t.
He’d been around her numerous times over the years, but he’d never really gotten to know her. Partly because of the age difference—seven years had seemed a huge spread when he was nineteen and she was twelve. As adults, the years didn’t seem like much.
Except the main reason he’d never had the chance to know her was Greg. From the very first, Greg had warned Ben off, saying, “Remember, she’s my daughter. Show her respect.”
Ben had heard the underlying message in those words loud and clear over the years, each time Greg repeated the refrain. Stay away. Off-limits. You’re not good enough for her.
He blew out a harsh breath. Yeah, he accepted Greg had wanted more for his daughter. A life untouched by the evil they dealt with. Getting involved with a Ranger would keep her tied to that world.
Come on, he had to get a grip, had to stop thinking about her and concentrate on finding the murderer before he got to Corinna. Because only then would he be able to move forward with his life as captain of Company D.
“Here’s a good one,” Corinna said, handing a picture of her parents over to Ben for his perusal. They sat at the kitchen table in her family home. The evening sun had begun to set on another endless day. Tomorrow would be the funeral. Corinna couldn’t believe three days had passed since her father’s death. They seemed like a lifetime. She’d been shot at, she’d shot at someone and then presumably the same guy tried to break into the room where she was sleeping. It was a lot to take in.
Her hand shook slightly, making the photo waver. She was struggling to maintain her self-control as they pored over pictures chronologically of her father’s life for the montage to be displayed at the memorial.
“I see where you get your beauty,” Ben murmured as he gazed at the picture of her parents when they were newly married.
She appreciated his compliment but her emotions were scraped raw; all she could muster was a brief smile in acknowledgment.
The board where Ben tacked the pictures was nearly full. Corinna bit her lip to keep her tears from flowing. It just wasn’t right. Her father shouldn’t be dead. Her fists clenched. Why? Why? her mind silently screamed.
“This is great,” Ben said, taking a photo out of another box and holding it up for her to see. “We have to use this.”
Her breath caught.
The image showed her father from the chest up, holding a small baby in his big, strong hands. The look of tender love on his handsome face was her undoing. Corinna could no longer hold back the tears. She pushed away from the table and ran out the back patio door.
Ben came out behind her, but she kept running all the way to the horse pasture. Thankfully her neighbor had agreed to care for the animals. As she neared the fence, one of the stallions trotted over. A big roan Quarter Horse named Dasher. She climbed the planks and allowed the animal to nuzzle her neck as she wrapped her arms around his head. Tears flowed, running down her cheeks to dampen the horse’s satin coat.
She heard Ben approach and quickly dried her eyes. She felt the horse growing wary at the stranger. It occurred to her that Ben never visited the horses when he came to their house. A safe enough subject for now. She lifted her head to see him standing back a few feet. “You
don’t like horses?”
He met her gaze. “Not particularly. I ride when I have to.”
He meant in parades and such, which was sometimes required of the Rangers. “Did something happen to spook you?”
“No. They’re just really big animals and unpredictable.”
“And you like things predictable.”
“I like things I can control,” he countered.
She stroked Dasher’s neck. “Horses are controllable. You just have to know how to gain their trust.”
“A lot like people,” he said.
“I suppose.” She stared off into the distance. The flat terrain of the sprawling state lay in darkness now that the sun had finished setting. Though a quarter moon rose, it didn’t provide enough light to illuminate the land. Everything seemed to be in shadows. Just like her life. “I guess I’ll have to sell this place.”
Her father had loved this land, this ranch. She couldn’t imagine someone else living here.
“Not until you’re ready.” Ben’s answer was quick and decisive.
She nodded. Impulsively she said, “I want the memorial here, not at the funeral home.”
“But all the arrangements have been made,” he protested, his voice closer now. “Besides, it would be too dangerous having people coming and going from the house. It’d be too easy for a bad guy to sneak in among the guests.”
“I don’t care. I want it here. If a bad guy does sneak in, you and the other Rangers will be here to take him down.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, but could barely make out his features in the dim glow of the moon. “Please. It’s important to me. I don’t want the memorial in some unfamiliar, sterile place. Can you make it happen?”
His voice softened. “If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” She reached for one last stroke of Dasher’s smooth cheek before hopping off the fence. She nearly knocked Ben over. He was closer than she’d thought. His strong hands steadied her. His masculine scent mingled with the smells of the hay and horse, making a heady, potent combination. Her mouth went dry. Unfamiliar yearnings spiked. She longed for Ben’s arms to slide around her, for him to press her close and tell her everything was going to be all right.
And the world tilted slightly.
She swayed. Ben tightened his hold. “Corinna, maybe you should come inside and have a drink of water.”
Gathering her equilibrium and sanity, she pulled out of his grasp. The last thing she needed was to be attracted to or attached to Ben. He was part of her father’s world. A place she had every intention of leaving behind. “I think I should return to Gisella’s now.”
She needed to go somewhere, anywhere away from him and the confusing sensations swirling around her head and chipping away at her heart.
Ben stood at the graveside of his fallen captain. The casket hovered over an open pit lined with a red velvet covering. The red, white and blue flag draped over the polished mahogany-wood casket fluttered in the humid breeze. The pastor gave the eulogy in soothing modulated tones. The faint sound of crying lifted on a puff of air.
The blustery fall day, heavy with humidity and rain, had been predicted. Wearing his best navy suit, Ben barely noticed the temperature as his gaze searched through the throng of mourners gathered in the Sunset Memorial Park cemetery. He hoped that the murderer would give him or herself away. But so far no one raised an alarm in Ben’s senses. No one in the crowd resembled the intruder in the sketch.
There was a handful of civilians in attendance, all of whom had been checked out by the Rangers. Neighbors, buddies from Greg’s college days, family friends from when the late Mrs. Pike had been alive.
The majority of those present were in law enforcement and Ben’s mind rebelled at the thought of any of these men and women being in cahoots with Greg’s murderer. Still, Ben tried to view each with a critical eye.
Sheriff Layton, in full dress uniform, his shocking white hair blowing in the wind, stood with his arm around his petite wife. Grief cut deep lines in his craggy face. A good number of San Antonio police officers in dress uniform were also in attendance.
Senior Captain Parker and his wife, a willowy redhead, held hands, their expressions somber. Beside them stood Ranger Assistant Chief Ambrose Ralston, a heavy-set man with a normally jolly disposition. Today he appeared grim as he paid his respects. Sweat beaded on his flaccid face.
Behind and flanking the chiefs stood a sea of white-hatted, dark-suited, silver-starred Rangers, from all the companies around the state. The loss of one of their own reflected in each face.
Ben’s gaze roamed over the more prestigious mourners. The death of a Ranger deserved the respect of every office of the state, including its official representatives. San Antonio Mayor Les Bernard, in his mid-forties with sandy blond hair and GQ looks in a well-tailored suit, stood with his platinum blonde wife, but there was a gap of space between them.
Texas State Senator Frederick Huffington, in his late fifties and decidedly on the paunchy side in a brown suit stood staring at the casket. At his side, his spouse dabbed at her nose with a tissue.
And finally, the head of the State of Texas, Governor John Kingston, a regal man in his late sixties in a pin-striped suit, held an arm firmly around his silver-haired wife.
All were properly solemn. No inkling that any had wished Captain Pike ill. Not that Ben had expected to see ill will among the prominent attendees. The murder was related to whatever case Greg had been working.
His gaze sought Corinna. She stood sandwiched between the senator and the governor, teary-eyed, sad and heartbreakingly beautiful. Her sleeveless black knee-length dress almost dwarfed her. The wound on her arm was covered with a flesh-colored bandage. His stomach muscles contracted every time he saw the reminder of how close she’d come to death.
A little black hat with a mesh veil covered her slicked-back hair. Her oval-shaped, pale face stood out in stark contrast. But it was her eyes, so bleak, so full of pain each time she glanced around her, that grabbed Ben by the gut and squeezed tight.
For days he’d ached for her loss and the pain she was trying to control. Even knowing she was well-guarded hadn’t eased the tightness in his chest. Nor had helping her plan the funeral. Seeing her distress had only cut him deeper.
Knowing she was so full of anger at God hurt him to the core. He’d prayed long and hard for God to comfort her and give her peace. And he prayed God would answer the question. Not the one asking why God had allowed this to happen, but rather who had killed Greg, and why.
Frustratingly, the Rangers’ investigation seemed to be at a dead end. The DA hadn’t found a link between Greg’s death and any old cases he’d worked. Forensics hadn’t revealed anything useful; the facial recognition software had yet to give names to their unconscious victim or the intruder whom Corinna had seen. Ben wasn’t any closer to knowing what Greg had been working on.
Aggravation and anger revved through him every time he realized that if they didn’t get a break soon, the person who’d killed Greg was going to get away with it.
Ben clenched his jaw and vowed never to stop investigating Greg’s death. No matter how long the search for the killer took.
The melancholy sound of a flute playing “Amazing Grace” pulled Ben from his thoughts. He and Daniel stepped forward to carefully remove the American flag from the coffin and fold it into a triangle. Ben presented the folded flag to Corinna. Her delicate hands closed over his for a moment. Her skin was icy and sent a shiver of awareness up Ben’s arm. Their gazes met. Ben felt her grief down to the marrow of his bones.
He inclined his head, acknowledging their shared pain, and released his hold. Corinna clutched the flag to her chest and closed her eyes. Tears slipped down her cheeks. Ben positioned himself at her side and encircled her waist with his arm. She stiffened but didn’t move away. One by one the mourners paraded in front of her, offering murmured condolences before leaving the grave site.
When only the Rangers of Company D remained, Ben
led Corinna toward the waiting limousine that would take them back to the Pike house, where Corinna had insisted the mourners gather for a memorial service.
Once inside the roomy car, Corinna settled on the leather seat with a sigh. “I hate this.”
Sitting across from her, Ben leaned forward to take her cold hands in his and rubbed them in an effort to warm her up. “You’re doing great.”
She gave him a wan smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It was nice to see so many people had cared for my father.”
“He was well-loved and respected.”
One side of her mouth lifted in a cynical smile. “So it would seem. But someone out there didn’t love him. Someone killed him. I searched every face in the crowd for someone who looked guilty, who seemed satisfied to see my father in the grave. I came up empty. The guy in the sketch wasn’t there, either.” She pinned him with an intense look. “Do you think the guy that broke in is the same person who killed my father?”
“I won’t know until we catch him.”
She turned to stare out the window. “What if he’s not? What if there’s someone else behind Dad’s murder?”
“Then we keep pushing for the truth.”
“But maybe at the house someone will slip up and we can nail the person responsible for my father’s death.”
Her words slammed into his gut. Now he understood why she’d wanted the service to be at her house. She hoped to trap a killer. Concern pounded in his veins.
His own disappointment that he hadn’t brought the murderer down yet coiled inside of him. Rage smoldered like a burning coal left in the grate. He could only do so much with the little bit of evidence they had. And it wasn’t enough. His jaw tightened. Failure wasn’t an option. Not on this.
And Corinna’s safety was paramount.
“You need to leave the investigation to me.”
“I’m my father’s daughter,” she said, her dark eyes hard in a way he’d never seen. “I will do my part to help bring this murderer to justice.”
“And put yourself in danger again? No way!”
She narrowed her gaze. “I’ll do what I have to.”