by Rita Herron
“I read about the project Honey undertook in Tumbleweed. She sounds amazing.”
Dex nodded. “You know she grew up with nothing, though. Had a bad childhood. Her father was known as the town drunk.”
Melissa’s gaze locked with his. “Are you implying that we’d have something in common?”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I think you’d like her. And Charlotte. She runs an art therapy program for troubled girls.”
“I read about that when her studio was attacked.” Melissa shivered. “Did you help your brother shut down that trafficking ring?”
“All my brothers and I had a hand in it.” Dex sighed. “It was rough seeing what those girls went through. But at least now they have a chance at a life.”
Like she tried to give the men hope at Lend-A-Hand.
Dex parked in front of a log cabin that backed to a wooded area. A front porch held a porch swing, and a hitching post for horses was built to the side.
“I have a small apartment in Austin, but I thought you’d like it out here better. It’s peaceful and away from the city.”
“You have a place in Austin, too?”
He nodded. “Above my PI office. But it’s pretty bare. Only one bedroom.” He parked and cut the engine. “Anybody could track me down at my office. The ranch is more secure. Harrison installed that security gate and cameras when Mom decided to foster the girls.”
Melissa unbuckled her seat belt, but her legs felt shaky as she slid from the SUV. Dex hurried around and took her arm.
“You can lean on me,” he said, his voice gruff.
“Thanks. I do feel a little unsteady.”
“The doc said to watch you tonight. If you feel sick, you have to tell me.”
In spite of the throbbing inside her skull, she managed a weak smile. “I’m fine, Dex.”
The sound of horses neighing echoed from the pasture nearby as they made it up the porch steps. A slight breeze stirred the trees, a welcome relief from the summer heat. Dex unlocked the door, and Melissa felt as if she’d come home.
A log cabin quilt hung on the wall over a dark leather couch with a crocheted afghan tossed across the matching leather chair by the stone fireplace. The living area and kitchen were one big room with a vaulted ceiling and exposed beams. Picture windows flanking the fireplace offered an expansive view of the ranch.
“This is stunning,” she said softly.
“Thanks. It’s home.”
Something she’d never had. He’d seen her unpacked boxes, the suitcase perched in her room, ready to be packed up so she could leave at a moment’s notice.
He escorted her down a short hall to a bedroom on the right. “I promised the doc I’d make sure you rested. The guest room has its own bath, so make yourself at home.” He pointed out the linen closet. “Clean towels are on the shelf. I don’t have many guests, but I think there’s soap, too.”
How many women had he brought here? She hadn’t asked if he was involved with anyone.
Maybe she didn’t want to know.
She suddenly realized that she was still wearing the scrubs they’d given her at the hospital. The paramedics had bagged her clothes to give the detective so he could log them into evidence.
She gestured to the scrubs. “Do you have a T-shirt I could sleep in?”
His gaze skated over her, and her skin tingled. She’d slept naked with him ten years ago. The thought of crawling in bed with him again made her body hum with desire.
But the pain in her head and the scent of blood from her attacker sobered her.
She wasn’t here to make love to Dex.
He’d brought her here for protection because someone had tried to kill her.
* * *
DEX EXCUSED HIMSELF and returned a minute later with a dark gray T-shirt emblazoned with the name of the ranch on it.
“It’ll probably swallow you whole,” he said as he handed it to her.
Her fingers brushed his as she took it from him. “It’s perfect. If you don’t mind, I might rinse off in the shower.”
“Of course. Do you want a drink, or some tea?”
“Better not have a drink on top of the painkiller they gave me. Maybe hot tea?”
“You got it.”
The temptation to ask if she needed help tugged at him, but he bit back the words. Dammit, she’d been beaten by one man tonight. She didn’t need him asking anything from her.
He went to make the tea while she disappeared into the bathroom. The shower water kicked on, and he forced his mind away from images of her naked and wet. Instead, he decided to work.
He booted up his computer and ran a search on Dr. Huckleberry. Glowing testimonials praised the doctor’s reputation and care of his patients. Comments about an auction house and rancher named Vance Baxter also were interspersed.
Dex entered Baxter’s name and the auction house and found comments about the rancher and his business. Nothing shady. And no complaints.
That struck him as odd. Every rancher or breeder dealt with dissatisfied or disgruntled people. Breeding and the cattle business were big money. Money not everyone had.
A prize bull’s seed was coveted and worth a small fortune.
The teakettle whistled, and he stood and turned off the gas burner. He set a mug on the counter with a tea bag ready for Melissa, then returned to his desk. He tapped his fingers on his thigh, the mystery of the missing homeless men still bothering him. He searched for the name Harry Willis, but he didn’t show up in the system. Harry didn’t have a record. Or a driver’s license. Or any property.
Not surprising.
Curious, he tapped into missing persons’ reports and searched for anything about the homeless men.
His pulse hammered. There were more than he expected. Six in the last twelve months ranging from Austin to Amarillo to Fort Worth. That was on top of the three he’d already noted that were recent.
Jim Smith’s face flashed back, and he ran a search on the name. Dozens of hits. It took him a good half hour to scroll through them all. None matched the Jim Smith he’d met.
Smith claimed he’d had amnesia for years. But he hadn’t mentioned exactly when he’d been attacked.
Dex rubbed his hand over his chin. Six missing homeless men didn’t seem like that many, he supposed. He decided to expand the search, going back five years. Twenty-two names appeared. Many from the same areas as the recent missing men.
It would take time to review all these reports.
The bedroom door opened, and he closed his laptop for the night.
Melissa appeared in the doorway, looking small and vulnerable with her bruised face and those damn stitches. She also looked sexy as hell in his shirt.
He wanted to rip it off and make love to her.
But feeding his needs would be wrong.
So he walked to the counter, poured hot water into the mug, then dunked the tea bag into the cup. “You still take sugar?”
“You remembered?”
He nodded. There were so many things he remembered about her. One of them was how her voice had sounded purring his name when he was inside her.
Their gazes locked, and heat rippled between them.
For a second, he was afraid to move. Afraid he’d lose control and kiss her.
“You need to go to bed,” he said instead. “The doc ordered you to rest.”
Her face paled. “I know. But I’m not sure I can sleep.”
He didn’t think he could sleep, either.
“Come on, I’ll tuck you in.”
She laughed softly. He took her hand and walked her to the bedroom, then set the tea on the nightstand and turned down the covers.
She ran a hand through her damp hair, then looked up at him with such longing in her eyes that his body hardened.
Then she lifted her hand and pressed it against his cheek. His breath caught, the ache in his chest stirring full force.
Her eyes darkened. She released a sigh that echoed with need. Heat rose between them, and she pulled his face toward her, parted her lips and closed her mouth over his.
* * *
MELISSA HAD NO idea what had come over her. She never made the first move with a man. But she’d seen the hunger in Dex’s eyes, and had remembered thinking she was going to die, and couldn’t resist.
She didn’t want to be alone tonight. She wanted Dex’s lips and hands on her, to feel the beating of his heart beneath her hand and the whisper of his breath against her neck as he lay entwined with her.
She deepened the kiss, drawing his face closer to her, and he slid his fingers into her hair just the way he used to do. Need and desire bolted through her, and she ran her hands down his back, raking fingers over corded muscles that stirred her arousal even more.
He made a low sound in his throat, then teased her lips apart with his tongue and deepened the kiss. Their tongues mated and danced in a sensual rhythm that seemed so perfect it was as if they were made for one another.
He stroked her back and wrapped his arms around her, their bodies brushing together. She reached for the buttons on his shirt, desperate to rake her fingers across his bare chest.
But he curled his fingers around her hand and stopped her, then leaned his head against hers. Their ragged breathing echoed in the charged silence.
Insecurity seized her. “Why did you stop? Is there someone else?”
“No,” he said in a raw whisper. “But you just came from the hospital, Melissa. I’m not about to make love to you when you may have a concussion.”
“I feel okay,” she said, although the throbbing in her temple was growing more intense.
He chuckled. “You feel more than okay to me, but you need rest. And that’s what you’re going to get.”
She wanted to pout, but he sounded so sweet and worried that emotions threatened to send her into a crying jag.
Afraid her feelings for him were written on her face, she averted her eyes and tugged the covers over her. He tucked her in as if she was a child. It was such a protective, loving gesture, one she’d never had from her parents, that a tear slid down her cheek.
“Ahh, Melissa. Are you in pain?”
She shook her head and traced a finger along his jaw. “Stay with me for a while, Dex.”
He brushed her hair away from her cheek, the sexual heat returning. A myriad of emotions brimmed in his eyes, too. Ones she didn’t understand. Ones she refrained from asking about.
Because she feared the answer.
That he’d tell her he could give her one night of loving. Then he’d walk away like he had before.
She didn’t want to hear that right now.
But he didn’t speak. He stretched out on top of the covers and pulled her into his arms. She snuggled against him, one hand on his chest so she could feel the heat of his body and the beating of his heart.
Hers belonged to him.
It terrified her. But she realized now that it always had.
* * *
HE WAS IN TROUBLE. Deep trouble.
Melissa Gentry was boring a hole in his hardened heart and climbing in.
He slowly stroked her hair, willing himself to stay strong and keep his hands off her, which was damn near impossible.
Finally she drifted to sleep. The bruises on her face and her neck looked darker tonight. Stark against the moonlight shimmering through the window.
Fury railed inside him at the fact that someone had physically hurt her.
She sighed in her sleep, her breathing growing steady. Thank God she’d survived.
He needed to watch her. Wake her a couple of times and make sure she didn’t have a serious head injury.
Although she’d looked at him with such desire that he’d almost forgotten about the case and why he’d brought her here.
He couldn’t forget. Protecting her was his job at the moment. When he figured out what was going on, though, they’d part ways. They’d have to.
He could not lose himself in a woman.
You already have, buddy.
Body wound tight with anxiety, he eased her hand from his chest. Dammit, he missed her sweet touch.
But he didn’t deserve her.
He eased off the bed, gently settling her head against the pillow and making sure she was covered. Then he tiptoed from the room.
He needed to work. Too late to call Lucas, though. Besides, Charlotte was due any day now. She needed him.
Still, he texted him about the business card and prints and told him that he’d leave the card in an envelope on the table by the door so Lucas could swing by, pick it up and carry it to the lab.
Unable to sleep, he walked into the kitchen for a drink.
But as he bypassed the arrowhead collection on the wall by the door, nostalgia hit him. Memories of him and Chrissy hunting for the arrowheads. They’d made up stories about how the arrowheads ended up on Hawk’s Landing.
A noise echoed from the bedroom, and he hurried to check on Melissa. She was still sleeping, but had rolled to her side.
The need to hold her seized him, but he returned to the den.
He slid in front of his laptop, booted it up and checked hospitals and morgues for Harry Willis. Nothing popped.
Then he decided to search records of missing homeless men that had been reported, this time dating back fifteen years.
His pulse jumped. Several more names appeared. Two that were close to Tumbleweed. Two that occurred around the time his sister went missing.
Sheriff Dunar, the sheriff who’d investigated his sister’s disappearance and then his father’s, had been notified of the missing men.
He studied the names, then poured himself a beer and went outside to think. Tomorrow he’d talk to the former sheriff and see what he’d learned about the men.
If someone had been preying on the homeless eighteen years ago and had continued all these years, they were dealing with a serial predator.
It was time to stop him before he killed again.
Chapter Seventeen
Dex checked on Melissa several more times during the night. Satisfied she was all right, he finally snatched a couple of hours of sleep himself, then rose and made coffee. He carried his mug to the porch to watch the horses run and to keep himself from crawling in bed with her.
He had to focus. Today he’d talk to that rancher, and Sheriff Dunar.
God, his father had loved this land. Had worked hard to build the ranch. He’d also seemed like such a family man. Granted, he’d worked him and his brothers, and he’d sure as hell disciplined them, but he’d used a gentle hand.
Finding out Chrissy wasn’t his father’s birth child had been a shocker to him and his brothers. But apparently his father had known years ago, had forgiven his mother, and had loved Chrissy as if she was his own.
Those damn arrowheads were nagging at him. Smith had talked about a rock formation—
“Dex?”
Melissa’s voice jolted him from his thoughts. Morning sunlight dappled her beautiful face and cast subtle red streaks in her dark hair.
He wanted to run his fingers through it again.
Oh, yeah, he had it bad.
“There’s coffee,” he said.
She stepped onto the porch and offered him a smile, gesturing to the mug in her hand. “Thanks. I found it.”
She still wore his damn T-shirt, which came to her knees and looked like a dress on her. He wondered if she had underwear beneath it.
She eased into the rocking chair beside him and pushed it with her feet, her gaze traveling across the pasture. A black stallion galloped on the hill, its mane flying in the wind as it ran.
For a moment, they settled into a peaceful lull where he imagined waking up with her like this every day. Sharing morning coffee together on the porch after a long night of lovemaking. Then they’d saddle up and go for a ride to the creek...
And one day there’d be a kid running around in the yard. A little boy. Or maybe a girl. It didn’t matter. He’d teach him or her to ride, and they’d go to his favorite fishing spot and then picnic by the pond.
He bolted up from the chair. Good God, what had gotten into him? He’d planned to stay single forever. Had never wanted to be a family man because it hurt too damn much when that family fell apart.
“Dex?” Her voice sounded worried.
“I’ll fix us some breakfast.”
“I’ll help.”
“No,” he said more brusquely than he’d intended. The last thing he needed was Melissa in his kitchen, planting memories of the two of them cooking their morning meal together. That seemed even more intimate than sharing a bed.
“Last night I did some research after you fell asleep. There have been several more reports of missing homeless men the past eighteen years. I’m going to talk to the former sheriff about them.”
She stood. “Okay. If you drive me home, I’ll change and go with you.”
“No, I should do this alone.” He gazed back at the pasture, anything to distract himself from her. “Besides, the cleanup crew is scheduled to come to the shelter. I’ll drive you there to meet them.”
She agreed, and he left her on the porch to enjoy her coffee while he scrambled some eggs. He needed some distance between them today to get his head straight. She wouldn’t be safe until he solved this case.
And he’d never walk away from her while she was still in danger.
* * *
MELISSA LIKED WAKING up and having coffee with Dex. Maybe too much. She yearned to do it every day.
