by Rita Herron
“You’re the one who should watch it, Indian.”
Anger cut through him. “It’s Ranger Sergeant Navarro.”
Trace’s eyes flashed with fury, then he jerked away and spit on Cabe’s shoe.
Cabe fisted his hands beside him to keep from pounding the bastard senseless. But the entire town was watching, and he had asked them to show self-control. He had to provide a role model to them now.
“Get out of here, Trace,” Sheriff Hardin growled.
Trace laughed bitterly, then spun around and stalked away.
Jessie shook her head. “I’m sorry, Ranger Navarro. He’s just upset.”
“He’s an ass,” Cabe said through gritted teeth.
And her brother’s behavior only swayed suspicion toward him. But he didn’t have to tell Jessie that—she was smart enough to figure it out. “Like I said earlier, Jessie, be careful.”
She stared at him for a long moment, some emotion brimming in her translucent eyes, then spun around and walked away. He watched her leave in case Trace confronted her—or maybe he just liked watching that tumbling red hair shimmering down her back.
Ellie sidled up to him, and stroked a finger along his badge. “What was going on with you and Jessie Becker?”
He tensed, almost sympathizing with Jessie. He had the oddest sense that she carried the weight of the world—at least the weight of her family’s problems—on her slender shoulders. “Nothing. Her brother is a jerk.”
She lifted a dark brow, her tone suspicious. “How do you know her?”
“I don’t,” he said curtly, refusing to play Ellie’s petty jealous games. “I met her today when I was on the property investigating the crime scenes.”
She offered him a small smile, her eyelashes fluttering. “I’m glad you’re back in town, Cabe. We need you here.”
He braced himself for another Ellie confrontation. “I’m here to do a job, Ellie. I’m not staying long.”
Her stifling perfume assailed him as she leaned closer to him. “Maybe I can change your mind this time. Why don’t we grab a drink and catch up? I’ll buy.”
Yeah, but the cost would be too great. “That’s not going to happen,” he said matter-of-factly. “Nothing could keep me in Comanche Creek, Ellie. You understand. Nothing.”
Her lips thinned. “You don’t know what you’re missing. Cabe. We would be good together, and we could do so much for our people.”
He ignored her barb. Ellie had her own political aspirations, and would achieve them. She didn’t need him. It just griped her that he’d rejected her.
Anger radiated from her in waves as she stormed away, the scent of her jealousy lingering behind like poison.
Rafe whistled. “Damn, man, you’re back in town for a day and you’ve already ruffled feathers. Plus you’ve got women chasing you left and right.”
“Not women, Ellie.” Cabe chuckled sardonically. “But we both know what she wants.”
“Jessie Becker had her eyes on you, too,” Rafe said with a toothy grin.
“Jessie just wants to protect her family and get me out of town. Period.”
Rafe shrugged, then gestured toward Ellie. “I don’t know about Jessie, but you’re right about Ellie. She’s always been strong-willed and obsessed with the activist faction. But lately…”
“Lately what?”
“I don’t know. But I’d watch out for her.” Rafe made a hissing sound between his teeth. “She seems…dangerous. Out of control.”
Cabe watched Ellie disappear into the crowd, shaking hands and speaking to the Natives, his gaze latching on to her long black hair.
He’d collected two long black hairs today at the crime scene. Did they belong to Ellie?
Chapter Four
Could Ellie’s obsession have festered out of control? Could she be a killer?
She was outspoken, opinionated, a voracious advocate for the Native American faction.
Except that she bordered on conniving and controlling, a lethal combination that could entice her to cross the line.
The activists sometimes forgot the bigger picture and became a negative force regarding their own people because their protests only roused anger and unrest instead of building peace and harmony between the two factions. Some even adhered to the old beliefs so strictly that they ignored the benefits of modern society.
It was the twenty-first century. Shouldn’t these prejudices have died by now?
“Are you going to see your father while you’re here?” Running Horse asked quietly.
Cabe met his gaze. No judgment there. Just an understanding that they were both straddling a fragile fence, especially in light of the recent revelations in Comanche Creek.
“I doubt he wants to see me.”
“You might be surprised.”
Cabe’s wide jaw clamped. “What? Is something wrong with my father?”
Despite his resentment toward his father and the ugly conversation they’d had the last time he’d seen him, he didn’t want to hear that his father was ill. He was…the only family Cabe had left.
At one time, he’d wanted nothing more than his respect. To make him proud. He’d thought becoming a Ranger might accomplish that, but the fantasy had died a sudden and fast death when he’d left the reservation.
“Rafe?”
“No,” Rafe said. “It’s just that you’re here. And it might be time to mend broken fences.”
Cabe shrugged, resorting as he always did, back to his job. “I have my hands full right now.”
Besides, his father might be in cahoots with Ellie and the Natives who were ready to lynch Jonah Becker and Jerry Collier for cheating them out of their land.
A noise behind them snagged his attention, and he spotted Charla Whitley making a beeline toward him, her makeup stark beneath the lights of the room, a half-dozen silver bracelets jangling on her arm.
She offered him a conspiratorial smile but he detected a secret agenda. Part Native American, he’d heard she collected cultural artifacts and sold them on the side. She had also worked with her husband, Billy, as his administrative assistant, and might have been involved in the illegal land deal.
“Watch out for that one, too,” Running Horse muttered. “Charla had a breakdown after Billy died and threatened to kill herself. She was admitted to the psych hospital for a while, and was just released.”
Cabe gave a clipped nod. He didn’t know whom he could trust in this town.
Her ruby red lips curved into a smile. “Cabe Navarro, I’m glad those Rangers finally brought in one of our own. We need someone working for us.”
Once again, he felt compelled to reiterate his neutral position. “I’m a Sergeant, a Texas Ranger, Charla. I’m here to uncover the truth, and get justice for all the murder victims, not take sides.”
“Of course you are, Cabe.” Charla raked her blood-red fingernails across his arm. “I’m relieved you’ll be investigating Billy’s death. I know he didn’t kill himself or commit those murders.”
“You and Billy were married a long time, weren’t you?” Cabe asked.
“It seems like forever.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “And I miss him so badly I can’t sleep at night. I…just can’t believe he’s gone.”
“You said you didn’t believe he killed himself. Why?”
She twisted her mouth in thought, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Because he wanted to know who killed Marcie as bad as the rest of us. She was smearing his name with those allegations about the land deal.”
“But the papers are convincing,” Cabe said. “It looks like Billy faked the documents to make it appear that Jonah’s ancestors owned the land.”
“Billy wouldn’t cheat anyone, much less the Comanches,” Charla said firmly. “He knew I was faithful to our people.”
Cabe made a grunting sound. He wasn’t falling for Charla’s innocent act. “But I’m sure Jonah paid Billy well for his help. Money can drive people to do things they might not normally do.”
; Irritation made the lines around her eyes stretch thin. “You sound like you think Billy was guilty, Cabe. Maybe Trace Becker is right. You’re playing both sides.”
“I already explained my position, Charla. As a matter of fact, I need to ask you about those artifacts in question. The ones you confiscated from Becker’s land and sold.”
Charla’s cheeks turned a ruddy red. “Don’t tell me you think I had something to do with all this.”
Cabe narrowed his eyes. “Why would you steal from your own people, Charla? Those artifacts should have been left with the dead, or returned to the Comanche Nation.”
“I only sold two items and they went to a true collector of Native American artifacts,” she said haughtily. “And at the time, I believed I’d made a legitimate deal.”
She’d admitted to selling them. Maybe he could push her into confessing more…“So you sold them, then when the truth about their origin came to light, you killed that antiquities broker to keep him quiet. Then you killed Marcie—”
Charla lips twisted into a snarl. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing.”
“As far as I’m concerned, everyone in this town is a suspect, Charla. Neither race nor sex is going to factor into the equation when I find the killer. Caucasian or Comanche, they’re going to pay.” Cabe pinned her with his eyes. “Now, I’m going to need the name and contact information for the buyer of those artifacts, along with a description of the items.”
Charla fidgeted. “I don’t have that with me.”
“Then get it together. I’ll drop by your house tomorrow and pick it up.”
She swung around to leave, but he grabbed her arm. “And, Charla, don’t you dare warn that buyer I’m coming. If he’s gotten rid of the artifacts when I arrive, I’m holding you responsible.”
Charla clenched her beaded purse strap with a white-knuckled grip. “Just because you left Comanche Creek, you think you’re better than us. But you’re not, Cabe. You’re worse because you have no loyalty to your family or friends, much less your heritage.”
Spinning around on her high-heel boots, she stormed away, her heavy perfume wafting in a cloud behind her.
Cabe almost laughed at her audacity as he watched her meet up with Shane Tolbert at the door. Tolbert placed his hand on her back, and they bowed their heads in conversation as they walked outside.
Just how close were those two? Could they have conspired to carry out the murders?
And why would Shane’s father risk jail by setting fire to that cabin on Dead Man’s Road, and shoot at a Ranger and Sheriff Hardin if he believed his son was innocent?
NIGHT HAD SET IN, EVENING shadows cloaking the street outside the building as Jessie stepped outside the courthouse. She spotted Trace and Ellie Penateka talking near Ellie’s Jeep Wrangler across the street and frowned. Their noses were almost touching. They almost looked…friendly.
Ellie was well-known for her strong opinions around Comanche Creek, and one of the last people she would expect to be friends with Trace. Then again, maybe Ellie thought that if she could convince Trace to side with the Comanches, then he could sway the opposing faction in town.
As if she suddenly sensed Jessie watching, Ellie tilted her head, pivoted and locked gazes with her. A nasty look of disdain curled her mouth, sending a chill up Jessie’s spine. Then Trace said something to her, and Ellie jerked away and bolted for her car.
What exactly was going on between them?
Before she could go after Trace to ask him, Mayor Sadler lumbered up on her heels. “Jessie, wait.”
She tensed, pasting on a smile when all she wanted to do was drive back to the ranch, take a hot shower and go to bed. But the mayor and her father were friends, and she appreciated his loyalty. Still, she wondered if Mayor Sadler had helped soothe the way for her father to make the land deal. He was popular and had connections in the town that ran deep.
He tugged up his pants, which were riding low below his belly. “How’s your daddy doing? I thought he’d be here tonight.”
Jessie’s chest squeezed with pain. Everyone else was probably expecting him to appear as well, especially since her father’s name and future were at stake. It wasn’t like Jonah to back down from a fight or not solve a problem himself.
She hated to lie, but there was no other way. “Dad’s fine, just tired tonight.”
The mayor’s brows furrowed. “I hope all this controversy isn’t wearing on him.”
More than you know, Jessie thought.
Sergeant Cabe Navarro stepped from the building then, his broad shoulders stretching across that white shirt as he stopped to survey the streets. His black Stetson shielded those dark enigmatic eyes, his shoulder-length hair held at the nape of his neck by a leather thong. With that rugged tough exterior, the feral power in his stance and his stark cheekbones, he looked like an ancient Native American warrior, as if he should be carrying a bow and arrow instead of a gun.
For a moment, an odd fluttering started in her belly, a feeling she hadn’t experienced before.
Cabe Navarro was strong, masculine, tough as nails…and sexy as all get-out. Heaven help her, but she wanted to forget he was a Ranger, and give in to the attraction she felt stirring in her chest.
But that Silver Star of Texas badge he wore on his chest like a mantra gleamed in the moonlight, reminding her they were on opposite sides.
“No,” Jessie said. “Although having those Rangers on the land is unsettling. I was hoping by now they would have arrested Marcie’s killer and stop hassling us.”
“It’s hard to believe we have a killer running around Comanche Creek,” the mayor muttered. “I don’t like all this trouble in my town. And I don’t like that Navarro guy. I think your brother may be right. He may be playing both sides.”
“But I was with him today on the ranch when he found another body,” Jessie said. “So he may be right about the burial grounds.”
The mayor leaned closer and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “That may be true, but I’m afraid he’s gunning for your daddy. You don’t want to see Jonah go to jail, do you?”
Panic stabbed Jessie. “No, of course not.”
The mayor’s bushy eyebrows rose. “You’re a pretty girl, Jessie. Maybe you can convince Navarro that your father is innocent, that Billy pulled the wool over his eyes when he forged those documents.”
Jessie chewed her lip, uneasy at his tone. Was he suggesting she cozy up to the Ranger and sleep with him to alleviate suspicion from her father?
Did Mayor Sadler know something more about the deal than he’d let on?
CABE SPOTTED JESSIE talking to the mayor, and wished he could hear their conversation. Were they plotting how to cover for Jonah?
Tomorrow he’d speak to Becker himself. But first, he’d obtain that warrant for a sample of Jonah’s blood and DNA. Hopefully the lab would have the results of the red clay on the Double B, and he would know if it matched the blood used in the ritualistic burials. If that blood matched Jonah Becker’s, he’d throw the rich old man in jail.
And if Jessie had covered for him…
He’d have to arrest her, too.
That thought made his gut knot, but he pushed the disturbing feeling aside and strode toward Jessie and the mayor. He’d come to Comanche Creek to catch a killer, soothe ruffled feathers and right the land deal, and nothing could deter him from doing that job.
Not the mayor, or Ellie, who’d been staging protest marches in front of the county land office, or the sexy Jessie Becker, who could disarm a man with her sultry eyes.
Still, another problem nagged at him. When the killer was arrested and the town settled down, the spirits of the dead who’d been disturbed needed to be put back to rest.
How the hell could he do that?
Your father would know how.
No…the last thing his father wanted was to see him.
The mayor shot him an angry look, then turned and walked toward the parking lot.
Jessie folded her arms i
n a defensive gesture as he approached.
“That meeting went well,” he said sarcastically.
Her small laugh of agreement rang with understanding. But that laugh made him wonder what she would sound like if she wasn’t being sardonic.
“There hasn’t been a murder around here in over a decade, so it’s normal for people to be on edge.”
“True. And it’s worse knowing the killer might be their very own neighbor.”
“I’m sorry about Trace,” Jessie said.
Sympathy mixed with admiration for her. “You’re not responsible for your brother’s behavior, Jessie.”
She relaxed slightly as if to thank him for not judging her based on Trace’s rude actions.
His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten all day, and he gestured toward the diner. “Hungry?”
She shrugged. “Are you inviting me to join you for dinner?”
A small smile tilted the corner of his mouth. “Why not? Concerned that it’s bad for your image to be seen with me?”
She made a dismissive sound. “Who the heck cares about image? Half the men in town believe I’m a daddy’s girl, the other half think I’m a tomboy.”
“Because you can ride and work a ranch?”
A breeze blew a strand of hair across her face, and she brushed in back. The gesture was so damn feminine that it made his groin ache.
“Yeah. That and the fact that I can shoot as well as they can.”
“Those guys are blind and idiots,” Cabe muttered. Hell, she was smart, tough and a marksman. He’d like to see her with a gun.
Or with a rope, maybe tying him down…
Sweat exploded on this brow. What the hell was he thinking?
Annoyed at himself for letting his thoughts stray to dangerous places, he clamped his jaw tight. “Only cowards are intimidated by strong women.”
A teasing smile flickered in her eyes. “But you’re not, Ranger?”
“No way.” In fact, he was intrigued.
If a woman could ride a horse the way he knew she could, she sure as hell could ride a man to oblivion.
He quickly blinked away the images that thought triggered and opened the door to the diner. Dammit. He had to keep this conversation professional.
