Her P.I. Protector

by Jennifer Morey

  Scratch that. Maybe they had nothing in common other than him keeping her safe. “I love animals and ranching.”

  She met his look and felt his silent agreement that they had very different lifestyle preferences. And that was too significant to ignore. Sexually attracted or not, they wouldn’t last as a couple. If anything happened between them, it would be casual and temporary. He must be thinking along the same lines because his eyes grew hooded with enticement.

  “How about those steaks?” she said, breaking the awkward moment.

  * * *

  Julien had just finished helping Skylar clean the kitchen and still wasn’t sure how he felt about her passion for ranching. As soon as he’d graduated from high school, he’d left the wildflower seed farm. While he kept in contact with his family and visited them often, he loved the noise and busyness of the Dallas area. And most of all, he loved solving crimes, bringing the scourge of society to justice.

  They’d shared small talk through dinner, which had actually been nice. He’d found he could be with her, not talk about anything ultra significant, and yet remain like-minded. They’d had comfortable lapses in conversation, too. Comfortable. How weird was that? Before dinner, he’d thought they wouldn’t stand a chance as a couple—he couldn’t live on a ranch and she would never live in the city. How would that work?

  Skylar made tea and joined him in the living room, sitting beside him on the sofa. He took a cup and saucer, noting the indigo peony pattern of the delicate china. He had noticed other unique touches in her house. Some vintage decorative pieces, color-coordinated paintings, other ornamentals and lighting in all the right places and at soothing brightness.

  Seeing the home décor magazines and books on the coffee table, he began to wonder. “Did you do all this?” he asked, gesturing around him with his free hand.

  “Yes. When I was a kid, I wanted to be an interior designer.”

  That was new, something he hadn’t expected, but seemingly way off course from her ranching career.

  “Why didn’t you become one?”

  She shrugged. “When I was seventeen, I told my mother I wanted to go to college to learn interior design,” she said. “The next night when my dad came home from work, he came to my room and said Mom told him about my plans. He then proceeded to inform me that no Chelsey got a job like that.”

  Julien lifted his brow. “He said that?”

  “That’s my dad. Reputation and social status are everything to him. He said only stupid women work as interior designers. He said my playing as a child with designing dollhouses was adorable, but I was old enough to decide on a satisfactory career.”

  “And you didn’t defy him?” She struck him as the kind of woman who would, but at seventeen she may have been too impressionable.

  “No one defies Newman Chelsey,” she said, looking away.

  This was getting interesting. Here he had thought she was this tough cowgirl and now he could see some vulnerabilities. “Did you go to college?”

  “Business,” she said curtly. “I hated it.”

  He could see and feel her enormous regret. “Looking back, would you have become an interior designer if your father hadn’t beaten you down?”

  She took a couple of seconds contemplating. He spent the time absorbing her beautiful profile. Then she turned to look at him.

  “No one’s ever asked me that before,” she said. “Especially not like that.”

  “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not insulted. I’m... enlightened. Beaten me down.” She nodded. “He did do that in effect. I was only seventeen and, at that time, eager to please. But, no. Ranching is not only in my blood, it’s something I am very passionate about. I love all the animals. In many ways, I would rather be with them than most humans. I love interior design. It is a great hobby for me. It’s a hobby, something that relaxes me, something I enjoy doing in my off time. Whether I just do some rearranging or completely redecorate a room.”

  So she had a creative side. And her family had so much money that she could completely redo an entire room, a whole house, whenever she wanted.

  “But you would have gotten a degree in interior design,” he said.

  “Yes. I did take some classes and went to some conventions.”

  “Well, from the looks of it, you didn’t need a degree. You’re a natural.”

  She smiled her appreciation. “Thanks.”

  They fell into that companionable silence again, sipping tea in her pretty cups, surrounded by warm ambience.

  “What made you decide to become a Ranger?” she asked.

  “I always planned on becoming a detective. Being a cop was the starting point. I started out as a state trooper. Did that for eight years. By then I had experience dealing with major crimes like murder, robbery, sexual assault and fraud, so I met all the requirements. The Rangers fascinated me, and that satisfied a wild urge. Impressed the girls, too.” He grinned and saw her look at his mouth, her eyes changing as they often did when she noticed him as a sexy man.

  “So, when you calmed down, you joined an investigation agency?” she asked, saying calmed down with a note of sarcasm.

  DAI hardly evoked calmness. “Something like that.”

  “How long were you a Ranger before you went private?” she asked.

  “Almost five years. I’ve been with DAI for more than three years now.” While a Ranger, he had discovered he felt most rewarded solving cold cases. That’s why DAI suited him so well. Clients came to them when all other options had run their course. The detectives who worked there were all like him.

  “You’re a crusader for victims and their families,” Skylar said. “You also must be really smart.”

  Why did she say that? “Someone has to help them.”

  “What’s the hardest case you ever solved?” she asked, seeming genuinely interested and fascinated by his job.

  He thought a moment. “There was this woman, a twenty-two-year-old, who had gone missing more than thirty years ago. Her remains were discovered, and dental records identified her, but there was no DNA evidence. No evidence at all, really. The coroner couldn’t even tell us how she died. All we knew about her last days was that she’d broken up with her boyfriend and gone out to a bar the night she went missing. One of the patrons said they’d seen her leave with a man. No one could identify him.

  “I looked into other missing person cases and found four that had similar circumstances—where the young girl left a bar with a man no one could identify. That took months to piece together, but it paid off.” He took a short breath before continuing. “In one of the cases, a witness saw enough of the man to warrant a sketch artist. I went back to the other bars—the killer would go to bars in different counties—and showed the sketch to people who worked at the bar where my victim disappeared. A bartender identified him. Turns out, he was the ex-boyfriend of my victim. We found a bracelet in his house that she was wearing the night she went missing.

  “Two of the other bodies were found and we were able to get DNA evidence linking the same killer to them. He got three life sentences without the possibility of parole.”

  Skylar looked at him somberly. “Like I said, you must be really smart.”

  “Just determined. And patient.”

  “And humble,” Skylar said with a slight smile. “It’s okay. You can admit it. You are smart. You have to be to solve thirty-year-old cases.”

  “Nothing a good education wouldn’t prepare me for.”

  She gave him a soft swat on his arm. “Just say it. Yes, I am smart.”

  He chuckled. “I did really good in college—4.0.”

  “Uhhh,” she groaned with a lift of her eyes. “All right, that’s close enough to an admission.”

  He looked at her pretty smile that reached her even more stunning eyes, such a deep bl
ue with flecks of lighter shades. Her long dark hair flowed down over one shoulder. He wanted to touch the shiny strands.

  Her smile slowly faded as she met his eyes, seeming to devour them the way he had devoured hers.

  The gunman on the loose bothered her, and no wonder why. Julien was also troubled by that. The more time he spent with Skylar, the more important she became to him, and that made protecting her that much more urgent. He never doubted his ability to catch a bad guy, and maybe it wasn’t doubt he felt right now. Maybe it was fear—fear that he would fail Skylar.

  Chapter 4

  Julien’s chiming cell phone woke him from a restless sleep; he’d barely managed a wink, keeping one eye open for the gunman. He blinked more awake and leaned over to pick it up from the bedside table. Recognizing the number, he quickly answered.

  “Indiana Deboe.” A protégée of Kadin Tandy’s, Indie frequently worked with Julien on cases.

  “Someone called from the Tarrant County Sheriff’s Office. They received a call that a boy of about fourteen stole food from a farmer’s market and was seen getting on a bus headed to Fort Worth. He matches the description of your runaway,” she said. “I called the Fort Worth police and they’re on the lookout for him.”

  “That’s great news,” Julien said. “Thanks, Indie.”

  “I hope I didn’t wake you,” she said teasingly. They had a running joke over the odd hours they always worked.

  “You did.”

  “Where are you? I tried your home phone first.”

  “I’m working a new case. It’s not really a DAI case. It’s pro bono. I’m helping out Cal Chelsey’s sister.”

  “Oh. A freebie, huh? Is she pretty?”

  “Goodbye, Indie.” Smiling, he hung up on her.

  After showering, he went into the kitchen to find Skylar already up and ready for the day. She poured him some coffee.

  “Sugar or cream? Both?”

  “Neither.” He took the cup from her. “Thanks.” He sipped and tasted the flavored coffee. He usually drank regular coffee, but this was a nice treat. “I’ve got a lead on my missing boy. Can you break away for a while to go with me?”

  “I’ve got to work all day. Can’t you go yourself?”

  He cocked his head at her.

  “Right. A crazy man with a gun is after me. All right. I’ll go talk to my ranch hands. They’re going to love me today.” She put down her coffee mug. “Are you hungry?”

  “We can grab something on the way. We need to hurry. A runaway on the move will be hard enough to find.”

  “Okay.”

  Julien went with her and waited for her to finish instructing her staff. They all seemed to take the extra workload positively except for one man. He could tell he was Skylar’s next in command by the way she spoke to him and the orders she gave him. His name was Shawn and he epitomized what Julien imagined a cowboy to look like. Tall and lanky, wearing jeans and a flannel shirt with a cowboy hat. His face was weathered and he didn’t smile at all.

  Skylar thanked everyone and then walked with Julien to his BMW. He opened the passenger door for her, seeing her smile with the act of chivalry. If she kept doing that, he’d seek out other things to do for her just to see that gorgeous smile.

  * * *

  After Julien stopped in at the sheriff’s office in Tarrant County, Skylar rode with him to the bus stop where the runaway would have gotten off. He parked.

  “What do you know about the runaway? What’s his name?” she asked. “Do you have a picture?” Maybe she could help. She might as well make herself useful since she now had a volunteer bodyguard.

  Julien reached into the back seat and pulled a case to the front. Removing his laptop, he booted up and then opened a file, turning the laptop so she could see the screen. Skylar looked into the sad brown eyes of an average-size boy with medium brown hair.

  “His name is Sawyer Wilson. His friends say his parents drink a lot and are abusive. He’s an only child. He does have one person who cares about him and that’s his grandmother. She’s been sick with cancer, though.”

  Skylar’s heart went out to the poor boy. “What did his parents say about his disappearance?”

  “Not much. They saw him get on the bus to school. He didn’t give any indication he was unhappy at home. They put on a good show, but I could tell the mother felt guilty. The father smelled like whiskey.”

  His cell phone rang and he answered. After listening a moment, he found a pen and paper and wrote down an address.

  “Indie found out Sawyer’s father has a half brother who lives in Fort Worth. His name is Conner Jones,” Julien said once he ended the call.

  “You have some resourceful people working with you,” she said.

  “Yes. Lots of good people.”

  “Why did it take Sawyer so long to head there?”

  “He may have gone somewhere else. His mother did say he saved money like a miser. He worked for his grandmother, did chores for her. Maybe he had enough money to stay in an inexpensive motel for a few nights. Some kids stay on the run until they can’t feed or shelter themselves anymore.”

  “He must be bound and determined to get away if he traveled to Fort Worth to try to stay with an uncle who might not even want him.”

  “Everything I’ve learned about him suggests that.”

  This new information meant they no longer had to find witnesses who may have seen him get off the bus. Julien drove away from the bus depot and straight to the uncle’s house. It made sense that the boy would go there.

  Seeing Julien’s concern hammered home his affection for children. It made Skylar reflect on her choices in that regard. While she had never given having a family much thought, she wondered if she should have. Given her parents hadn’t taught her the value of family beyond affluence and wealth, she maybe should have looked deeper inside herself. What was wrong with having a family? Nothing. But she would want her kids to feel close to her. She was afraid she wouldn’t have the skills to cultivate that kind of environment.

  She glanced over at Julien. His father had probably felt the same way when he’d married his mother. But his mother had come from a good family and they’d raised Julien well.

  Skylar had come from a good family in some ways, but “loving and close” did not describe the Chelseys of River Rock Ranch.

  Julien caught her contemplative look and she quickly averted her gaze.

  “What were you just thinking?” he asked.

  “Nothing.”

  After several seconds, he said, “It was something. Maybe someday you’ll tell me.”

  That would be a heavy conversation. And one that should not take place unless the two of them entered a serious relationship. As she ran down their differences, she knew that would probably be a big mistake. Two opposites who were sexually attracted to one another might not make it a year, especially when one wanted children.

  Skylar could not answer the question of whether or not she would have kids. Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about how much he cared about Sawyer’s welfare. He didn’t have to tell her that. She could see he genuinely did. He was a hero. But he was one hero she would be smart to stay out of bed with.

  * * *

  Julien wanted to question Skylar on her weighty expression when she’d looked at him in the SUV. He suspected it had something to do with Sawyer. Was this the closest she had been to kids? Or caring about them?

  He rang the doorbell and a slightly under-six-foot, big-bellied, bald man answered. Julien instantly smelled whiskey. Great. Sawyer had gone from one hellhole to another.

  “Conner Jones?” Julien asked.

  “Yeah. Who’s asking?”

  Julien showed his PI identification. “Julien LaCroix. I was hired by Sawyer Wilson’s grandmother to find him. Is he here?”

  The man breathed a sloppy sigh. “Yes
. Come in.”

  Julien entered ahead of Skylar and checked around the messy, dirty living room. No lights were on and the trees in the front yard kept it dim.

  He saw Sawyer sitting unhappily on the sofa, looking at him warily.

  “I already called his father. They’re on their way here. Right now,” Conner said.

  “The boy will be put into foster care until an investigation is complete.” Julien felt an incredible compulsion to protect the boy. “When his father gets here, tell him Child Protective Services will be in contact soon.”

  “As long as he ain’t here, I don’t care.” Conner turned to look at Sawyer in disgust. “What made you think I’d want you here when I have never met you in my life?” He faced Julien again. “I hate my half brother. We never talk. What was this kid thinking?”

  “He was thinking anywhere is better than his home. He was thinking maybe he’d have a better life with you,” Julien said, getting angry.

  “Let’s go, Sawyer.” Skylar held out her hand to the boy.

  Her interjection surprised Julien. For a woman who claimed she didn’t want kids, she sure did care about Sawyer right now.

  Sawyer didn’t move. “I don’t want to go home.”

  “You can’t stay here,” she said.

  “Why not?”

  Confusion kept Sawyer from giving up on his worthless uncle. He had nowhere to go. He only knew he did not want to go home.

  “You’ll be safe with us,” Skylar said.

  Julien let her handle the situation.

  “Come on. Get your things and let’s go.”

  The boy jumped to his feet in a flash of rage. “You’re just going to take me back there!”

  “No, we aren’t.” She glanced at Julien. Could they do that? Just for the night?

  “We have to go through the proper channels, but for tonight you’re going to stay with me.” He glanced at Skylar. “Us.”