Blame It on Texas

by Christie Craig

  Tears filled her eyes when she realized that now even her memories were tainted.

  She took a deep breath, getting oxygen to her brain, and told herself to get a grip. Told herself she would get through this. That she would survive. She was a survivor.

  “Like you.” She glanced over her shoulder. Lucky sat in the carrying case with his salmon-colored nose pressed against the metal bars. Unlike most cats, Lucky didn’t mind being confined in small spaces. He’d spent so much time in a small cage at the vet’s office healing from his burns that even now, she regularly found him sleeping in the pet carrier.

  A tap at her window had her opening the car door. Tyler stood there. She’d handed him his shirt when they walked out of her apartment, but he hadn’t put it on. It was probably still damp, but wasn’t that better than running around in a wife-beater T-shirt with her blood on it? Someone was bound to start wondering how he’d gotten her blood all over him. Someone like LeAnn. And what was he going to tell her? Oh, we were just trying out different positions.

  Realistically, she knew his main objective had been to keep her down, but he’d put a sexual slant on the whole situation. And now she couldn’t seem to forget it.

  She stepped out of the car. “Can I bring Lucky in here, or are we going to just be here a few minutes?”

  He hesitated. “Bring him in. But we may have to close him in one room because of Bud.”

  “Bud?”

  Tyler opened the rear car door to get the carrier out. “The dog. I’m not sure if he’s cat-friendly.”

  Tyler pulled the carrier to the edge of the seat and leaned down to peek inside. Lucky had his back to the cage’s front.

  “He’s shy,” Zoe said.

  “Not like his master,” he said.

  While Zoe tried to figure out if that was a compliment or an insult, Tyler picked up the cage. Without a shirt, his biceps bulged slightly with that little bit of weight. When they passed Tyler’s car, she saw his shirt hanging in his backseat.

  She slowed down. “Shouldn’t you put on your shirt?”

  “It’s still wet.” He kept walking.

  She moved in step with him. “It might be better than trying to explain.” She pointed to his shirt. “The blood.”

  His brows pinched in puzzlement. “They know you were shot. LeAnn’s going to check you out, remember?”

  “I know, but…” She waved at the stain again.

  He put his hand over the dark red smear on his shirt. “I didn’t realize it bothered you. I have a shirt in the office.”

  “It doesn’t bother me, but it might bother LeAnn.”

  He shot her another puzzled look. “She’s a nurse. She sees blood all the time.”

  “But it’s my blood and it’s on you.”

  He paused in front of the door and gazed at her. “Why? Oh, you think that… LeAnn’s…”

  “I’ll tell you what LeAnn is. LeAnn’s pissed.” The beautiful brunette standing at the door did look upset.

  Zoe shot Tyler an I-told-you-so look. And while she knew she had no right, none whatsoever, she felt a bit of jealousy. Then that unjustified emotion turned to another equally unjustified emotion. Anger. While Tyler hadn’t actually crossed a line, he’d done his share of flirting. Enough that she hadn’t thought he was otherwise committed. Enough that if there hadn’t been bullets flying around, she might have even responded to some of that flirting.

  “You call up and say someone is shot and you’ll be here in fifteen minutes, and it’s been almost thirty!” Her gaze dropped to Tyler’s shirt. “You aren’t hit, are you?”

  “No.” Tyler pointed at Zoe.

  LeAnn faced Zoe. “Where are you shot?”

  “Arm,” she and Tyler said at the same time.

  “Come on.” LeAnn grabbed Zoe by the hand and led her inside.

  “It’s not bad,” Zoe said as she was being pulled past the casket and down the hall. It still freaked her out a bit to see it.

  “I got supplies set out in here.” LeAnn took Zoe past the office and into another room with a large conference table. “Sit down and let me see.”

  “It’s just a scratch.” Zoe looked over her shoulder to see if Tyler had followed her. He had, and he smiled at her as if he had some inside joke.

  When he moved into the room, he shut the door and sat the cat carrier down in the corner. Everyone just stared at each other for a second, and the silence seemed long.

  “I should probably introduce you two,” Tyler said. “LeAnn, this is Zoe, our new client. And Zoe, this is Mrs. LeAnn O’Connor—wife of Tony O’Connor. Dallas’s brother.”

  She wasn’t sure who Tony or Dallas were, but the way Tyler said, “Mrs.” and “wife” told Zoe he knew she’d misread the whole LeAnn situation. And yeah, she’d misread it. But in her defense, he hadn’t actually made it clear.

  “Let me see the wound,” LeAnn said, drawing Zoe’s attention.

  Zoe pulled up her sleeve.

  “Does she need to be seen by a doctor?” Tyler asked.

  Zoe rolled her eyes. “It’s a scratch.”

  “I’m warning you now,” Tyler said to LeAnn. “She’s going to fight you if you say she needs to see a doctor. She’s stubborn.”

  Zoe’s mouth dropped open. LeAnn glanced back at Tyler. “No name calling.” Then she looked back at Zoe. “Do you want him to leave? I’m good at getting rid of men.”

  Though LeAnn appeared to be joking, it was Tyler’s frown that made Zoe smile. “No. He’s fine.”

  LeAnn gawked at the Band-Aid. “Where did all that blood come from?”

  “This is it,” Zoe said, and shot Tyler an I-told-you-so look.

  LeAnn looked back at Tyler. “You said she was shot.”

  “She was,” Tyler said. “And it was bleeding a lot.” He motioned to the front of his shirt. “And she was hurting like hell.”

  “It didn’t hurt that bad,” Zoe said.

  “You were gritting your teeth.”

  “I was panicked. I’d never been shot before. Or had a gun pointed at me.” She cut him a hard stare, so he understood she was referring to him and his gun.

  “Which is a miracle considering that neighborhood,” Tyler countered.

  “It’s not that bad of a neighborhood,” Zoe said.

  “Do you want me to print the list of crimes that happened there just last week?”

  “Don’t argue with my patient.” LeAnn slipped on a pair of rubber gloves and pulled off the bandage.

  Zoe flinched when the Band-Aid pulled across the wound and a stream of blood started streaming down her arm.

  LeAnn eyed the wound. “It is pretty deep.”

  “Told you,” Tyler said.

  “But,” LeAnn continued, “it’s not bad enough for a stitch. If we wash it and put some antibiotic cream on it, it should be fine.”

  Zoe shot Tyler another smirk, then focused on LeAnn. “I already did that.”

  “Okay. But let’s do it one more time. If you don’t mind.” LeAnn waited for Zoe to agree. “I am a professional.”

  “That’s fine,” Zoe said.

  “Great. But if it does start looking infected, you need to go and see a doctor.”

  “We will.” Tyler moved closer to the table.

  We? Zoe wondered, and even LeAnn looked back at him puzzled.

  Suddenly, the door behind Tyler opened and in walked a dark-haired man, early thirties, with a beer in his hand. He nodded a quick hello at Zoe. Zoe nodded a quick hello back. He was attractive, but he didn’t hold a candle to Tyler. Without realizing it, her gaze went back to him and she admired his abs. Again.

  Surprising herself by her wayward thoughts, she felt her cheeks grow warm. Why was she thinking about looks when… Had she lost a lot more blood than she realized?

  “Tyler, I didn’t know you guys got here,” the newcomer said as another dark-haired man—roughly the same age and bearing a striking resemblance to the first—came through the same door. They had to be brothers, Zoe decided.
Maybe even twins. The second brother nodded another quick hello at Zoe, and she did the same again.

  She recalled Tyler saying something about Tony, LeAnn’s husband, and his brother.

  LeAnn tossed a warm smile toward the last one to walk into the room. Zoe got the feeling that was LeAnn’s husband, Tony.

  “Does she need to go to the hospital?” Tony asked LeAnn.

  “Nah,” answered Tyler, the same time Zoe chimed in with the same answer.

  LeAnn started to introduce them when an older man, who looked like the two younger men, pushed his way into the room. The brothers moved around to accommodate the growing crowd. And the crowd kept growing—two blond women in their late twenties, an older lady, probably well into her sixties if not beyond, and a young African American man who looked all of eighteen joined the group. The room was big, but with this horde of people it felt small, and Zoe felt as if she was on center stage in a crowd of strangers.

  Zoe wasn’t shy, but with everyone staring at her, she got a nervous tickle in her stomach that reminded her how she’d felt the first days of teaching. Though she had to admit these people were a tad scarier than a room full of five-year-olds. And she didn’t think singing “Bunny Foo Foo” would put everyone at ease.

  Her gaze again shifted to Tyler, the one familiar person in the room. She could swear she saw an apology in his eyes. Did he know she felt ready to jump out of her skin?

  Tyler’s frowned deepened. “Maybe we should introduce—”

  “She does look like Nancy,” the older man interrupted.

  Zoe’s breath caught. Did he know about the Bradfords? Did everyone?

  “What?” the youngest of the men in the room asked. “You think she looks like me?”

  “Not you, Eddie. I said she looks like Nancy, not Nance.”

  “Nancy who?” asked the older woman, telling Zoe that not everyone knew.

  “Nancy Bradford,” the old man answered. “She thinks she’s the kid who went missing all those years ago.”

  Zoe bit down on her lip. Well, they knew now.

  “Hey,” Tyler started to talk again, but was cut off by the older woman.

  “Wasn’t that kid found dead?” The older woman looked at Zoe with sympathy. “Sorry. I mean, you’re obviously not dead.”

  “Nana,” one of the blondes said. “We’re being rude.”

  “She looks pretty good for a dead person,” the one named Eddie said with a snicker.

  Insecurities built in Zoe’s chest. Was everyone going to think she was a few fries short of a Happy Meal? She hadn’t been ready to announce this to the world. She’d told Tyler, but…

  LeAnn looked at Zoe. “Nikki’s right. We’re being rude. Normally, we behave ourselves. But first let me finish this.” She smiled and then looked back at Zoe’s wound. “This might sting,” LeAnn said as she dabbed some cream on Zoe’s wound.

  What stung more was realizing that everyone knew her best-kept secret and were probably thinking she needed to rush over to the nearest mental institute and commit herself. She looked at Tyler again.

  Her emotions must have been apparent because the apology in his eyes seemed more prevalent.

  “Look,” Tyler said, louder this time. He glanced at the crowd. “We’d kind of like it if the whole Bradford thing didn’t leak out right now.”

  “He’s right,” the brother who Zoe thought was named Dallas said. “This doesn’t get repeated.”

  “Not a word,” said the older man.

  “Lips sealed,” said the old lady.

  Eddie spoke up next. “Would it be rude for me to ask exactly what the Bradford thing is so I’ll know what I’m not supposed to leak out?”

  “I’d like to know, too,” said an unfamiliar male voice at the door. Everyone looked up as another man walked in the room.

  “Shit,” Tyler said, frowning harder.

  “Rick? What the hell?” Tony said. “I thought you had to work. Your lazy ass just didn’t want to help me move my dad!”

  Zoe’s eyes moved from one person to the next, and she felt slightly relieved that everyone wasn’t focused on her anymore.

  “No, I just got off. And part of the reason I’m here is to see if you could still use a hand.” Rick—Zoe assumed that was the newcomer’s name—moved into the crowded room. His gaze found Zoe’s, and everyone else in the room followed his lead. “The other reason is you,” he said. “You must be the mystery redhead everybody is talking about.”

  Her stomach got that first-day-at-teaching quiver again. She opened her mouth to speak but decided to just nod instead. Everyone continued to stare at her, and she stopped feeling so much like a nervous teacher and more like a toad about to be dissected in a science class.

  “Almost done,” said LeAnn, looking at Zoe with empathy. Zoe wasn’t sure if the empathy came from the wound, the situation, or the fact that the woman thought Zoe was about to be carted off to the loony bin.

  “What happened to your arm?” Eddie asked Zoe.

  LeAnn answered as she put a bandage on Zoe’s arm. “She got shot.”

  “Shot?” Eddie looked at Tyler. “You didn’t shoot her, did you?”

  “No,” Tyler said.

  “But you didn’t protect her, and that’s almost as bad,” said the old man, and chuckled. “And you call yourself a good PI.”

  “I told her to stay down,” Tyler said as if he didn’t appreciate the joke.

  “He did tell me,” she said. They were her first words since the crowd had arrived, and everyone’s gazes shot back to her. “I was trying to protect him.”

  “Someone has to,” the old man said, and everyone laughed.

  Tyler’s frown deepened.

  “Who shot you?” asked Rick, completely serious.

  “We don’t know,” Tyler said.

  “Why is it that bad shit is always happening to the people who hang around you guys?” asked the grandmother.

  “You got that wrong,” Tyler said. “They come to us after bad shit happens.”

  “And you guys fix it.” Eddie met Zoe’s gaze. “Whatever is going on, they’ll fix it. They saved my ass. And I’m not nearly as good looking as you are.” Everyone chuckled again.

  Tony looked at Tyler. “I hope you guys reported the shooting.”

  “Austin was calling it in when we left,” Tyler said.

  “Would someone like to fill me in on what’s going on?” Rick asked.

  She saw Tyler’s jaw clamp down, but he motioned for Rick to follow him out the door. Before he walked out, he glanced over his shoulder at Zoe as if to say he’d be right back. “Maybe someone could introduce themselves and stop treating her like she’s a science experiment?”

  Funny how he’d practically used the same analogy she’d come up with.

  “I’m sorry, we did storm in here,” said one of the blond women. “I’m Nikki, Dallas’s fiancée.” She nodded toward the other brother. “Dallas is one of Tyler’s partners. This is Ellen.” Nikki waved at the other blonde standing beside her. “She’s a friend and the new receptionist at the agency.”

  Ellen smiled. Nikki continued to introduce everyone else. From Dallas’s brother, Tony, who was a homicide detective and LeAnn’s husband, and the brothers’ father Mr. O’Connor, to Nikki’s grandmother whom everyone called Nana, and Eddie Nance, who was a former client and now worked for Nikki in her art gallery.

  Mentally trying to sort out who was who, she almost missed what Eddie said. “Did it hurt getting shot?”

  “Not too terribly,” Zoe said.

  “You barely feel a thing,” said Tony. He pulled the collar of his shirt back and showed off a scar. “I took one.”

  “Barely felt it, my butt.” LeAnn snickered. “You were cussing like a sailor. You even threw a urinal at one doc.”

  “Getting shot didn’t hurt. Letting you guys poke and prod me with needles was the killer.” A grin spread across Tony’s face. “But I mostly did it to just get your attention. Every time I misbehaved they se
nt you in to talk to me.” He looked at Zoe. “That’s when I met her. Getting shot was the best day of my life.”

  “So does that mean getting puked on was the best day of Dallas’s life?” asked Mr. O’Connor, who snorted with laughter.

  “It was.” Dallas hooked an arm around Nikki. “She was feeling a little green the first time I met her. One look at her and I wanted her heart. Instead she gave me everything in her stomach.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “But getting shot beats getting puked on,” said Tony. “You don’t even have a scar.”

  “Please, that tiny scar you got is nothing,” said Dallas. “Look at this.” Dallas pulled up his jeans to show off a scar above his ankle. “Sixteen stitches.”

  “You fell off a bicycle,” Tony countered.

  “A scar’s a scar,” Dallas said. “Besides, you’re the one who pushed me off the bike.”

  “A scar from a bullet trumps any other scar,” Tony said.

  “Getting shot can’t be as bad as falling off of a roof and landing on a shovel,” the older O’Connor said, and pulled up the sleeve of his T-shirt. “Thirty stitches. To the bone.”

  “I can beat that,” Eddie said. “I got gored by a Long Horn.” He pulled up his shirt and showed off a jagged scar on his abdomen. “Me and a couple friends of mine decided to play rodeo clowns. I don’t recommend it.”

  “I’m glad he got you coming and not going, or I’d have had to cover my eyes,” said Nana.

  “That’s nothing,” said Mr. O’Connor. He pulled up his shirt.

  Zoe’s eyes moved from one scar to the next on various body parts, feeling as if she was trapped in some kind of a wacky sitcom.

  LeAnn, still standing next to Zoe, rolled her eyes. “Men and their scars. Have you ever seen a woman show off her scars?”

  “We hide them and buy expensive creams to make them fade away,” said Nikki.

  “True.” Ellen, the other blonde, pressed a hand against her abdomen. She looked at the men in the crowd. “Believe me, if I wanted to, I could put all you men to shame.”

  Zoe couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to Ellen.

  “See, women don’t show off scars as if they are trophies.” LeAnn gave her husband a jab with her elbow.