Blame It on Texas

by Christie Craig

  Who was LeAnn? His wife?

  Her gaze darted to his left hand. No ring.

  He continued, “Yeah. I heard him drive off. See you in about twenty.” He hung up and looked at her. “I know that hurts.”

  “I can hardly feel it.” And it wasn’t as big of a lie as it had been earlier. The scratch had stopped burning like hell and was now only burning like purgatory. Not that she knew a heck of a lot about purgatory; she’d been raised Baptist. Then again, she’d also been raised to believe she was the daughter of Mildred and Ralph Adams. The thought that they had lied to her rang another painful bell inside her heart.

  She took a deep breath. “I guess he really meant it, huh?”

  “Who meant what?” he asked.

  She grimaced. “I got another phone call. They said I had to leave or I’d die. Not that I’m dead… yet.” This was so not a good day.

  His brows tightened. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me this before?”

  She wasn’t fond of being scolded. “Between finding you pointing a gun at me, to”—she motioned to the book on the table—“seeing the picture, then being shot at, it sort of slipped my mind.”

  There was also the whole God-he-looks-sexy-without-his-shirt issue, but she decided to let that one go unsaid. Because it wasn’t going to be an issue. He had LeAnn. And she had a list of reasons not to let herself consider getting involved with the opposite sex.

  “It shouldn’t have slipped your mind,” he growled.

  “Live and learn,” she said.

  “Or die and wish you had,” he snapped. “What else did he say?”

  “That pretty much covers it.” She frowned.

  He frowned back at her. “I need to go outside and check to see if anyone saw anything. Then we’re going to go see LeAnn. Are you okay for a few minutes alone?”

  “I’m fine.” She stood up to show him she meant it. Alone wasn’t a problem. She’d been alone for a long time. Well, not completely alone. She had Lucky. Glancing back, she saw the cat standing in the bedroom doorway, hesitant to come out. Then she glanced again at the windows, and her pulse started to race a little faster. She could have been killed. “I’m good,” she lied.

  “We’ll leave in a few minutes. Get anything you might need for a few days. Austin will be here in about ten minutes, and we’ll call the cops to come out and do a report.”

  She barely heard anything he said past… “A few days?”

  “You can’t stay here,” he said. “Unless you want whoever did this to come back and finish what he started.”

  “But…”

  “I have a place you can stay. A safe house,” he added rather quickly. Too quickly.

  What was he not telling her? The need to be logical battled with her need to just give in to the fear swelling in her chest. “Is it covered in the cost of your regular services? Or is it extra? Because I’m definitely going with the basic, low-budget PI package here.”

  “It’s included.”

  Her gaze went to the shot-up windows; fear fluttered in her stomach like birds needing to escape, and she decided not to argue. “Okay, but I have a cat.”

  “The cat can come.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I’ll just be outside, so don’t panic.”

  “I’m not panicking.” She saw his disbelief. “Not anymore.”

  He nodded and left—bloody T-shirt and all.

  She darted to the bathroom to swallow three extra-strength pain relievers. “I’m fine,” she said to herself. And then she bit down on her lip and stared at her image in the bathroom mirror. Now that she didn’t have anyone to put up a front for, she could admit that being scratched by a bullet wasn’t for wimps. And right now, she was feeling a tad wimpy.

  Tyler checked out the street—empty. He replayed in his mind those seconds before the bullets had ricocheted through Zoe’s apartment.

  There hadn’t been a blast. The first thing he’d heard was the shattering of glass.

  Someone used a silencer.

  He added a few more inquiries to his mental list of questions and then got busy trying to find someone who could answer a few of them.

  Four apartments later, he approached the last door. Most of the neighbors, possible criminals themselves, had nothing to report. Two were pissed that Tyler interrupted their Sunday siestas.

  But at the last apartment, a Hispanic grandmotherly type opened the door. He gave her the spiel about Apartment Four having been sprayed with bullets. The woman’s breath caught. Her gaze lowered to the front of his T-shirt. “Dios.” She crossed herself. “Are you okay? Is Zoe okay? I can call nine-one-one.”

  “Everything is fine.” The mouthwatering aromas wafting from behind the door told Tyler that the plate of food that Zoe had tossed at him had come from here. “Loved the chicken enchiladas,” he said.

  The fear faded from her aged eyes. “You are someone special to Zoe?”

  He considered it for about a fraction of a second. “Si.” He was someone special. He was the one who was going to make sure whoever tried to hurt her didn’t succeed.

  A couple of minutes later, he stood on Zoe’s front porch, staring at the holes in her windows when he saw Austin walk up.

  “What kind of shit did you fall into?” he asked.

  “You got here fast,” Tyler said.

  “I was just off of I-Ten when Dallas called. What’s up?” His partner’s eyes dropped to the front of his T-shirt, and he flinched. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I wasn’t the one hit.”

  “The redhead?” Austin grimaced.

  “Yeah, just grazed. I’m taking her to see LeAnn. Dallas told you about her?”

  “Yeah, it’s not every day that a man finds a redhead on her hands and knees under his desk.” He grinned with a spark of interest in his eyes.

  That spark pissed Tyler off. The words she’s mine almost slipped from his lips, but he held them back, knowing they sounded juvenile. “Did Dallas tell you what it’s about?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Do you really think she’s the Bradford kid risen from the dead?”

  “I think she looks so much like Nancy Bradford that she could be her twin. She’s been getting threatening phone calls telling her to leave town, and now this. Somebody doesn’t want her here.”

  Austin considered him for a moment and then grinned. “You must be in hog heaven.”

  “Why?” Tyler asked, thinking it had to do with Zoe being beautiful.

  “You always love a mystery. I’ll bet you’ve already got a list of questions going.”

  “And it’s getting longer.” He pointed to the holes in the glass again. “Do you think they were aiming that high for a reason?”

  “Could be they weren’t looking to kill her,” Austin said. “Just shake her up.”

  “They succeeded.” A surge of protectiveness stiffened Tyler’s shoulders.

  “You didn’t see the shooter?”

  “No.” He’d been too busy rolling around on the floor with her. He remembered how she’d felt stretched out on top of him, too. The way her hair had shifted like silk across his chest. Then he thought about the way he’d felt on top of her, with her legs wrapped around his waist and the way he’d fit so well between her legs.

  “Neighbors see anyone?” Austin asked.

  Tyler pushed the beginning of his physical awareness from his mind. “The shooter used a silencer. Doesn’t mean someone couldn’t have seen him, though. I’ve checked these four units. Got nothing.”

  “Has it been called in yet?”

  “Not unless the neighbors did it.” Tyler looked back toward the street. “I’d kind of like to get her out of here so she doesn’t have to be interrogated just yet. I’m not sure I want any of the details leaked to the press yet.”

  Austin looked around. “Chances are no one called. From the looks of things, a little gunfire is not that uncommon around here.”

  “Do you want to call it in?” Austin asked.

  Tyler contemplated it. “Yeah, we mig
ht need it on the record.”

  Austin nodded. “Why is a pretty redhead living in a dump like this anyway?”

  “I think she’s low on cash.”

  “She could lose more than cash living here,” Austin said, confirming exactly what Tyler had thought. “I can call it in and hang out until they show up if you want to skip out with her.”

  Tyler nodded. “Thanks.” He looked in the window to see if he could spot Zoe to make sure she wasn’t panicking. She must have been in the bedroom.

  He recalled how upset she’d been seeing Nancy Bradford’s picture, and then being shot at and hit by a stray bullet. Hell, it was amazing she hadn’t locked herself in a closet and cried her eyes out. That was what his sisters did when they had a bad day.

  “I’m not doing it for you,” Austin said. “I just love showing myself to all our fellow officers who looked the other way when they let the system take us down.”

  Tyler glanced at Austin. “Don’t go starting trouble.”

  “Hey… dishing out a little comeuppance is good for the soul.”

  Tyler completely understood. There were still a few guys on the Glencoe force to whom he’d like to offer some comeuppance. Cops and co-workers he’d considered friends, who as soon at the rumors had started flying wouldn’t look him in the eye. Even after having his life back for over a year, the sting of their betrayal hadn’t gone away.

  He doubted it ever would.

  “How are we playing it?” Austin asked. “We’re keeping the Bradfords completely out of it now, right?”

  “For now.” Tyler looked back in the window and saw Zoe walking the hall into the bedroom.

  Austin spotted her, too. “Damn. No wonder we’re taking the case.”

  Tyler’s frown came from deep in his gut. “Back off,” he said, no longer caring if he sounded juvenile.

  “You ready?”

  Zoe jumped at the sound of his voice. With the water pipes playing their groan-and-moan song, she hadn’t heard him approach the door. Now with a toothbrush working on her back molars, a mouthful of minty-tasting toothpaste foaming out the corners of her mouth and dripping onto her chin, she answered, “Juss bout.” She talked around the brush, but did a poor job of it.

  She pulled the toothbrush out of her mouth, spit, rinsed, and then wiped toothpaste dribble from her face. She’d never considered brushing her teeth as intimate, but it felt that way as he leaned his sexy self against the door frame, watching her. The feeling reminded her of a morning-after kind of thing. Problem was she hadn’t gotten to enjoy the night. Of course, they’d rolled around on the floor while he conversed about positions. She cut her eyes to the clean shirt she’d put on to make sure she hadn’t bled out from under the Band-Aid. She hadn’t.

  Looking up, she caught her reflection in the mirror and noticed her hair flipping in about six different directions. She grabbed a clip from the drawer. With a quick twist through her hair, she fastened it on her head.

  When she glanced at him, he frowned. “I like it down better.”

  A retort lingered on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it. He was helping her find the answers she’d been seeking all her life. What’s more, he was willing to work out a payment plan—even let her stay at the company’s safe house. It sounded too good to be true. And that scared her.

  Just trust him, she told herself. It’s blind trust, her inner voice warned.

  “I need to grab a couple of things.” She waited for him to move back.

  He took one small step, and she squeezed past him, then ducked into her bedroom. Grabbing her overnight bag in one hand, her purse in the other.

  “Is your arm hurting?” he asked.

  She looked back. He stood leaning against the door frame, watching her.

  “Barely know it’s there.” She looked back at the cat cage, the bag of litter, and the emptied litter box pushed up beside the bed. She saw Lucky peering out from behind the bars, eyeing their visitor with his one eye. Taking a step closer to the bed, she dropped her purse on the mattress, planning to slip it in with her clothes.

  Realizing she’d have to ask Tyler for a hand, she looked back. “Do you want to get Lucky?”

  His eyes widened. “Now?”

  “Yeah.” Hadn’t he said she could bring her cat?

  They stood staring at each other.

  Finally he said, “I’m not sure now is the right time.”

  It took her a second to make sense of what he meant, or rather what he thought she meant. She laughed. He stared at her like she was nuts.

  She bit back her laugh. “No, I mean… my cat, Lucky.” She pointed to the cat carrier.

  “Oh, you didn’t mean…” He reached up and brushed his finger over his chin as he stared at her and then the cat carrier. “Your… cat’s named Lucky?”

  Were his cheeks really turning pink? “Yes.” She grinned. “I meant, did you want to get… the cat?”

  His smile spread across his face, and the self-conscious look faded a tad. “I can do that, too.”

  Maybe it was his half-embarrassed, half-amused expression. Maybe it was just that she had so much stress bottled up inside her. Whatever it was, she started laughing again and couldn’t stop.

  He continued to lean against the door frame, smiling. Her laughter finally faded. Their gazes met and held. The humorous mood slipped into something… different. Different like one of those “romantic music playing in the background” moments again.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  He moved in, set the bag of litter in the litter box, picked it up and held it with one arm, and then carefully, as if not wanting to alarm Lucky, picked up the cat cage. He looked back at her. “You do that well.” He started out.

  “Do what well?” She followed him down the hall.

  “Laugh.”

  As silly as it sounded, she sensed he meant it as a real compliment. “Thank you.”

  At four, Rick was looking for his card in the Bradfords’ office to punch out when Michael Warren, a police officer for Glencoe and a part-time guard, came to clock in.

  “How’s it going?” Michael asked.

  “Same old shit, different day,” Rick said. “Be warned. Mrs. Daniels, Bradford’s daughter, is here, and she’s in a talkative mood. I now know more about her problems with her ex, her yoga instructor, her trip to the shooting range, and her latest charity dilemmas than I care to know.”

  Michael chuckled. “She was here last week. My head hurt from listening to her. But she did give me a bonus for doing her a favor.”

  “You slept with her?” Rick teased, but in truth a couple of times he’d caught the fifty-year-old woman watching him with cougar eyes. He found his punch card and clocked out.

  “Hell no. But if she paid me enough.” Michael laughed. “She gave me a fifty-dollar bonus for pulling over the redhead who was following her dad’s limo.”

  Rick looked back. “I thought she’d stopped hanging around.”

  “She did after I pulled her over and gave her a ticket and told her to stay away.”

  Rick had thought it was odd that Windsor hadn’t gotten any more info on the redhead, and now he was a tad suspicious. He almost asked if Windsor knew about this, but decided not to show his cards yet. He had no idea what he was dealing with.

  “When did this happen?” He slid his time card into the slot.

  “Last Monday, I think. Mrs. Daniels saw the redhead had followed Mr. Bradford’s limo and gave me a call to see if I could put a stop to it. She hasn’t been back since.”

  “Did you run a check on her?” Rick asked.

  “Nah, I gave the information to Mrs. Daniels. I figured she got Windsor or one of you guys to run the plates.”

  “Was her name Kathy?” He tossed out the first thing that came to him in hopes of getting more information.

  “No. Her first name started with Z and the last name was Adams. She had an Alabama license plate. It was Zoe.”

  “Oh,” he said, pretending it wa
s no big deal, but he repeated the info in his head so he wouldn’t forget it.

  Michael moved in and stuck his card into the time clock machine. “She was a hottie, too. The redhead, I mean. Hard to believe that a girl like that wanted to sleep with the old fart. Even with little blue pills, I don’t think he can get it up.”

  “That’s probably what she’s hoping for,” Rick said. “There’s not much a woman won’t do for money.” For some reason, he remembered Ellen Wise. Okay, so maybe there were one or two decent women out there. A few who actually cared about their kids, bought them books—even read to them at night. “Have a good one.” Rick walked out of the house, his curiosity piqued about what was going on with the mystery redhead. Had Windsor lied to him about getting info on her? Or had the old man’s daughter even told Windsor she got Michael involved? Who was hiding something and who wasn’t? More important, why?

  Yup, his curiosity was piqued, all right. Getting into his car, he decided he wasn’t playing in the dark anymore. If they wanted his help, they had to fill him in. He pulled out his phone and saw he’d missed a call. From Candy again.

  “No fucking way.” He tossed the phone in the passenger seat.

  CHAPTER TEN

  TEN MINUTES LATER, Zoe parked beside Tyler at the Only in Texas office. She’d been so off her game from everything that happened, she hadn’t even bothered to ask where they were going. He’d said, “Follow me,” and like a lost puppy she’d done it.

  Blind faith. Scary stuff. If there was anything to be learned from this whole Bradford issue, it was that trusting someone was risky business. She spotted a beat-up Saturn parked in the back of the lot. The sight brought the memory of her sixteenth birthday tiptoeing across her heart before she could stop it. Her parents had taken her out and bought her a slightly more than used Saturn with plenty of dings and dents in it. Then, they’d all piled in her very first car and went to eat at an expensive steak restaurant. It had been her best birthday, and the last one she’d celebrated with her dad. He’d died three days later from a heart attack. No one had called her princess since.

  Questions bounced around in her head like Ping-Pong balls. How could her mom and dad have sat there celebrating her birthday and pretending to be her parents? Why had they kidnapped her? How could they have lied to her all those years? Had their love been a lie, too?