by Ciana Stone
Copyright 2019, Ciana Stone
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 Ciana Stone
Cover by Syneca Featherstone
All rights reserved.
A Death in Texas
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
A Death in Texas Copyright © 2019 Ciana Stone
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book publication Feb 11, 2019
Print book publication Jan. 30, 2019
This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Syneca Featherstone
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Dedication:
For my honeyman – always and forever.
Prologue – New Year’s 2019
The chatter of voices blended with the music being piped from outdoor speakers. The sweet smell of the beeswax candles that fluttered within glass globes mixed with the scent of lavender and lily flowers from the tabletop arrangements.
Luck had smiled on the event with clear skies and weather that made it possible to be outside without needing heavy clothing. The volume of the music decreased, and a voice called out. “Happy New Year!”
Russell Walker clapped along with everyone else as fireworks lit the sky over the lake, the pops and booms competing with the cheers and happy voices around him. This New Year's Eve was far different from any other he'd experienced.
A woman he was in partnership with to build butterfly houses and apiaries, Reese Quinn, had just exchanged vows with Mathias Gray Horse, a Navy Seal assigned to the Clear Creek Training Center outside the town of Cotton Creek, in Cray County Texas.
Russell would guess that at least half the residents of Cotton Creek were there, along with all the instructors and support staff from the training center. The bride and groom said their “I do's“ before midnight and were now having their first dance as a married couple.
The dance floor was crowded with people, and it was something out of the ordinary for Russell to find himself on the sidelines, watching. He'd typically have a date for any social function. There were always women available for such things. This, however, was an event he'd chosen to attend alone.
“Happy New Year, Mr. Walker.”
The female voice behind him had him rising from his seat and turning. Dr. Naomie Taylor smiled up at him. She held a glass of champagne in each hand. “Join me?”
“Why not?” Russell accepted the glass, touched its rim against hers and then drank. “Happy New Year, Naomie.”
She put one hand on a hip and struck a sassy pose. “Why Russell Walker, is that the best you can do?”
He recognized the tease in her tone and responded in kind. “Well, I don't know. What would you have me do, Dr. Taylor?”
“Ask a gal who has no date to dance?”
“That I can do.”
He offered his hand, and she placed hers in it. Once on the dance floor, he swung her around. Naomie smiled up at him, and Russell took a selfish moment to admire her beauty and revel in the feel of her in his arms.
“Wasn't it a beautiful wedding?” she asked and sighed. “Just perfect.”
“Yes, it was. And now that it's done, will you be moving to Heritage?” Naomie had accepted an offer from him to head up an ambitious quarter horse breeding program. Her family in Kentucky, raised Thoroughbreds and thanks to her had one of the most successful breeding programs in the world.
Naomie had put off making the move to Heritage, his ranch, until things were set with the production facility for the artificial intelligent bees they planned to produce and use as an adjunct to the apiaries and butterfly farms. Since she'd helped in the design of the AI bees, she'd volunteered to oversee the set-up of the facility.
“Really? Business? Now?” She looked up at him with a small pout.
“Important business.” He felt the need to interject their business relationship into any encounter. As much for himself as for her, perhaps more. Naomie had a powerful effect on him, one that made it necessary for him to hold their business relationship as a shield of protection.
“Fine. I have at least another week to complete the set up at the SynthBee production facility, and then I'll be ready to turn my mind to the breeding program. Have you looked at the portfolio of potential horses I want to evaluate and consider for the program?”
“I have. It's quite an extensive list. Why so many?”
“Because most won't pan out and we won't accept anything less than the best.” She paused to give him a piercing look he'd come to recognize as her issuing a challenge. “Correct?”
“Correct.” He agreed and added. “It appears you're going to be spending a good bit of my money.”
“You can afford it. And it'll be worth it.”
“It better be.”
“Have a little faith, Mr. Walker. Have I ever let you down?”
That earned a laugh from him. “Naomie, you've done a lot ,since I've known you. Infuriated, astonished, impressed, confused, amused, cajoled and even convinced me to take part in things I'd never normally agree to, but to date, no you haven't let me down.”
“Well, there you go.” She looked around for a moment then up at him. “In the spirit of honesty between partners, I have to tell you that I smoked a big fatty with Lula just before the ceremony and had two glasses of champagne, so I'm a little toasted.”
“Smoke a—Naomie are you high?”
“That's one word for it.”
“And you're telling me this why?”
“So, you know I'm not in charge of my faculties tonight, and you can't hold this against me.”
“Hold what—?”
Before he could get the rest of the words out, she'd snaked a hand up to take hold of the back of his neck. Naomie plastered herself against him. “I've been thinking about this for a long time, Russell Walker.”
Without another word, she pulled him down to meet her lips and planted a kiss on him.
The thought entered his mind that he should end it. Entered and quickly departed. She'd given herself an excuse for her actions. He didn't have and wouldn't try to invent one. He'd wondered about this almost since the day they met, and that was quite a few months ago.
Now he knew. It was every bit as powerful as he'd imagined, and he'd imagined quite a lot. Russell wasn't a man prone to being surprised. He attributed that to age and life experience. Naomie Taylor had been nothing but surprises, and that was, perhaps, one of the most appealing things about her.
Few people had the ability to shock, stun and completely daze him. She possessed it in spades.
Just like she possessed the ability to strip years from a middle age man's libido and
have him feeling like a young chap again, randy and ready to claim what he wanted. He'd not deny himself the moment, even if he didn't plan on it ever happening again, and maybe because of that.
So, Russell took control, wrapped one arm around her waist to hitch her up nice and snug against him and indulged himself in the feel and taste of her. His ardor increased at the small sound she made and the way she pressed closer. It was fortunate they were in a crowd of people, or he'd have been hard pressed not to find a place to lay her down and indulge in more than a kiss.
When the kiss ended, she lowered down from tiptoes and looked up at him. “Happy New Year, Mr. Walker.” Her voice was a bit breathy and her skin a little flushed, which pleased him to no end.
“Happy New Year, Naomie. Here's to 2019 being one hell of an interesting year.”
Just then Wiley Johns, a man Russell had known for some time, and his and Reese's partner in the pollinator breeding program walked over. “Russell, good to see you.”
“And you, Wiley. Happy New Year.”
Russell noticed that Naomie quietly departed but looked back over her shoulder at him just before she disappeared into the crowd. He spent a few minutes talking with Wiley, then wished the newlyweds well and left.
As his driver headed for the small airfield, Russell thought about the kiss. It would be the first and last. He'd expected there would come a day when he and Naomie would act on the attraction between them, and he'd wondered if they'd part with less or more than they started with.
Now he knew, and he wasn't particularly thrilled. She wasn't the woman for him, no matter how much she stirred his blood. He forced his thoughts to a topic guaranteed to claim his attention because it was his greatest passion in life.
Heritage. His family's legacy.
It was what was most important. For six generations the Walker family had been guardians of Heritage, each generation expanding its scope and value. Under his watch, they'd grown to be the largest family-owned ranch in the country, with diverse holdings and new divisions being formed each year.
If Russell succeeded in his ambitions, his children and his brother's daughter stood to inherit not just the largest ranch in the country, but an empire, and a legacy to pass on for more generations of Walkers.
Those thoughts occupied him until he was in the helicopter, being flown home. They passed over the site of the wedding, and he thought about the woman he'd kissed. A week from now she'd move into one of the cottages on Heritage's main homestead and take charge of what might be the most ambitious quarter horse breeding program this country had ever seen.
If successful, they would dominate the market and be in demand beyond the boundaries of the United States. Australia and South American ranches were stiff competitors in the market for the best quarter horses.
Russell believed Naomie could get Heritage into the lead in that market.
And he thought about the kiss. How long had it been since a kiss had affected him so strongly? Actually, had he ever been this affected?
He wasn't a young man. At fifty-seven, he'd suffered through three contentious divorces and one even nastier broken engagement and had sworn off relationships. He was twenty years older than Naomie. Too old. Old enough to be her father. Hell, he had kids her age.
Cradle robbing wasn't his style. Neither was being a dirty old man. He refused to be one of those middle-aged men who were stupid enough to think that a young, beautiful, not to mention, a brilliant woman would fall for a man old enough to be her father.
It wasn't going to happen. Sooner or later the truth reared up and kicked you in the head. You couldn't compete with the young men, and there would, without question, come a time when she'd wonder if maybe she wasn't wasting time with an old man. No. He and Naomie Taylor weren't going to be anything other than employee and employer, colleagues or partners. Anything but that one thing he wished he was young enough to indulge in.
He nodded to himself. One thing was for sure. When he made up his mind about something, it would take an act of God to change it. If there was one thing he was good at, it was sticking to his guns.
Then why was it that when he was finally home, sitting on the back deck with a glass of good bourbon in his hand, looking out at the land he loved so much, he couldn't stop thinking about that kiss?
Chapter One— January 29th, 2019
Kalvin Burton pushed his chair back from the desk and swiveled toward the window. The lights of the city he'd built presented a display that never failed to remind him of his good fortune. He might have been born into wealth, but unlike many of his peers, he'd taken what his family had so generously bestowed upon him and increased it until he'd become wealthy beyond his dreams.
Real estate, casinos, and oil had netted him a fortune. He could have retired at 40, but where was the fun in that? Kalvin loved making deals, and since 2010 his new passion was building cities. Resort cities where the wealthy could live, shop and play. So far, he had completed three, in Nevada, California, and Florida.
He had his eye on Texas now. In more ways than one.
Kalvin spent New Year's at one of his resort city hotels in California. A private party on New Year's Eve netted him an introduction to Cici Walker. To be correct, it was a re-introduction. He'd met her years ago when she was a child.
She wasn't a child now. Not yet thirty, and a practicing attorney who'd passed the bar in a dozen states, she'd already made a name for herself as a brilliant lawyer who got the job done. A mutual friend, who was one of her clients made the introductions.
Kalvin stared through the window, blind to the lights of the city as thoughts of the night's events ran through his mind.
The main salon was packed. With only minutes until midnight, champagne flowed from multiple fountains and music could be heard beneath the cacophony of voices. Kalvin stood just inside the door that led out to the massive portico overlooking the pool and waterfall. With him was Edward Altwell, a man Kalvin had known his entire life.
Edward had tripled his family's fortune in the joint ventures he and Kalvin had in oil and real estate. Like a true friend, Edward pledged to invest in Kalvin's next venture, and his backing meant a lot to Kalvin, both for the generous influx of cash and the trust his friend placed in him. Of late, Edward was delving into online cloud storage and streaming services. He was trying to convince Kalvin to pitch in with him, but Kalvin had his eye on other sights.
Like the drop-dead gorgeous woman walking toward them. Now, there was something inspiring. She walked like someone confident yet not conceited, comfortable in her own skin and aware of her beauty. Even her attire demonstrated confidence. Rather than the popular skin-tight glitter so many of the women present were encased in, she stood out in a simple black sheath.
Like a modern day Audrey Hepburn. She was that unique and elegant. He watched and realized that she was looking at him and smiling. “Ah, I see you've spotted her,” Edward commented.
“You know her?”
Edward laughed. “I've only been singing her praises for the last three years.”
Kalvin cut a look at his friend then back at the woman walking alongside the pool, headed in their direction. “That's your attorney?”
“Cici Walker,” Edward replied. “You really should pay closer attention to what I tell you.”
“Obviously. Is she Russell Walker's daughter?”
“Yes. You’re old mentor’s daughter.”
“Yeah, Cici Walker. Wow.”
“You know her?”
“No. I met her once. I was twenty-five and had just earned my first million on my own, thanks to some advice Russell Walker gave me. I paid him a visit, and he was sitting on his back deck, watching Cici on her new pony. I guess she was around eight or nine.”
“Well, she's all grown up, my friend and as sharp as they come. Want an introduction?”
“I believe I do.”
Edward raised one hand. Cici Walker smiled and did the same. Kalvin watched her approach and noted that she g
ave her attention to Edward. “Are you enjoying the evening?” he asked.
“I am. This is quite the place.”
“It is. And this is the man responsible.” He gestured to Kalvin. “Cici Walker. Kalvin Burton.”
“I believe we've already met.” He offered his hand.
“Have we?”
“You were eight. You'd just gotten a new pony.”
“And my dad got caught up talking to a handsome young man about a business thing and completely missed me taking a spectacular fall right into a fresh pile of pony poop.”
He chuckled. “I can't say I remember that. It goes without saying that you've changed.”
“I hope so. I think you have as well.”
“Seventeen years tells on a man.”
“Oh, I think it gave more than it took, Mr. Burton. And may I say that this is very impressive. I remember reading about your ambitious venture a few years ago, and honestly, I was skeptical that you could make it work. My father said you'd make it happen. I bet against you.”
She sipped from her champagne flute. “I lost.”
“Your father has always been an astute businessman.”
“That he has. And apparently so are you. Edward tells me you may be in the market for new legal representation.”
Kalvin had not made any such claim but knew Edward probably had told her the white lie because, for whatever reason, Edward had been keen on Kalvin and Cici meeting. Kalvin now felt that he owed his friend sincere thanks.
“Yes. I'd very much like to discuss it with you. If you're taking on new clients.”
“I think I have room for one more, and I'd be delighted to discuss it with you.” She reached into the small clutch she carried and pulled out a card. “Do give me a call, Mr. Burton.”
Suddenly, confetti and balloons rained from the ceiling, fireworks exploded in the sky and shouts of Happy New Year rang out. Cici looked at Kalvin. “Luckily, you're not yet a client.”
He didn't understand what that meant until she plastered her lush body against his, looped her arms around his neck and planted her lips on his. The thought registered in his mind. He should keep it impersonal. After all, she might well become his attorney.
