by Rita Herron
“Have you checked Charla’s blood?” Jessie asked.
“Not yet, but I intend to.” Cabe gave her a sideways glance as he shifted gears and wove into traffic. “What’s wrong with your father, Jessie?”
“I don’t want to discuss my father with you.” Night had fallen, the storm clouds obliterating the moon and casting a grayness across the rugged land as they left the city.
“I’m not the enemy,” Cabe said gruffly. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad the blood didn’t match your father’s. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
Jessie rubbed her arms with her hands to ward off a sudden chill. “Come on, Cabe. You don’t like my father. You wanted him to be guilty.”
Cabe’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “That’s not true, Jessie. All I want is to find the person or persons responsible for these murders.”
Regret slammed into Jessie for her accusation. Cabe had faced prejudices his entire life, and had good reason to have been suspicious of her father.
She wanted to reach out and soothe his jaw, apologize, confess that she admired his dedication to his job. That she actually liked and admired him.
And that she yearned for him to kiss her again. Spend the night in his arms. And maybe longer.
But he would be leaving soon, and if she allowed herself to succumb to her feelings, she was terrified she’d lose her heart to him.
And Jessie Becker didn’t give her heart to anyone.
JESSIE SHOULD HAVE been relieved her father’s blood hadn’t matched the killer’s, but the fact that she still seemed agitated worried Cabe. There was obviously more to the problems with her father than she wanted to admit.
He remembered the number of pill bottles in Jonah’s medicine cabinet and frowned. Just how sick was the man? Was that the real reason Jessie had moved back to the ranch? To take care of Jonah?
His cell phone trilled, and he grabbed it. “Navarro.”
“It’s Hardin. I went by Charla’s house, but she wasn’t home so I posted a deputy to watch the house in case she returns.”
“Good. I need a warrant for a sample of her blood. Jonah Becker’s was not a match. CSI is still working on the paint sample they extracted from my SUV.” He glanced at Jessie, and saw her rub her temple. “And Lieutenant Colter is calling the Austin police to pick up McLandon, the man who purchased the artifacts from Charla.”
“Thanks for the update,” Hardin said. “I’ll let you know if Charla turns up.”
Cabe snapped his phone closed and glanced at Jessie again. “You look exhausted,” he said as they neared the Becker property. “I’ll drive you straight to your cabin.”
“No, I want to stop by the main house and check on my father.”
The rain had died as he pulled through the turnstile gate, drove up the winding drive and parked in front of the main ranch house. Cabe climbed out and followed Jessie inside. Lolita greeted her and asked if she wanted dinner.
“No, thanks, I ate,” Jessie said. “I just want to check on Dad.”
“He’s in the study,” Lolita said, then clucked her mouth sadly. “But I’m afraid he’s had a bad day.”
Jessie thanked the woman, then crossed the foyer to the study, rolling her shoulders as if to prepare for trouble.
As soon as she opened the door, Jonah’s ranting echoed from within. Cabe stopped at the doorway to give her privacy, but the man’s chalky pallor and wild-eyed look shocked him. Jonah seemed disoriented and confused, a different man from the one he’d spoken with earlier.
“Rachael, don’t leave me again,” Jonah cried. “Please don’t go.”
“It’s Jessie, Daddy,” she said softly. “Calm down. Everything’s going to be all right. I promise.”
Sympathy for Jessie shot through Cabe. Jonah must be suffering from dementia or some other mental incapacity. That was the reason Jessie had been covering for him. It also meant that someone could have duped him into the illegal land deal without him being aware the documents were forged.
Cabe had the sudden urge to shoulder her burdens. But he didn’t want to violate her privacy. Still, standing outside the door and listening as the man continued to rant incoherently and she attempted to calm him took every ounce of his willpower.
Meanwhile Lolita walked in with tea and a tray with pills on it.
Cabe’s impatience mounted as the minutes ticked by, but finally Lolita and Jessie came through the door, flanking Jonah on both sides as they coaxed him upstairs to bed.
“I want my nightcap,” Jonah mumbled.
“Daddy, you don’t need alcohol on top of your medication,” Jessie said.
“But Trace always gives it to me,” Jonah said in a petulant voice.
“Miss Jessie’s right,” Lolita agreed. “Mr. Jonah, you need to go to sleep.”
Cabe turned away, then paced the foyer, anxious for Jessie to return. When she finally reappeared, fatigue lined her face and her eyes looked bloodshot from crying.
Dammit, he wanted to pull her in his arms and hold her. “Come on,” he said softly. “You’re going home and to bed yourself.”
The fact that she didn’t argue indicated the depth of her turmoil, and they rode to her cabin in silence.
Her shoulders sagged as they walked up to the cabin, and she unlocked the door. But she turned to him and stopped him from entering. “Cabe, you can go now. I’m home. I’ll be fine.”
He stepped inside and flipped on the light. “We’ve discussed this, and I’m not leaving.” He gently took her shoulders. “I’m sorry about your father, Jessie. What do the doctors say?”
Her lip quivered. “They’ve run tests but haven’t found anything definitive. And he seems to be getting worse.” Her voice trailed off, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
Cabe clenched his jaw, but his heart ached for her and he pulled her into his arms. She collapsed against him, her body trembling as she struggled to suppress her tears.
Hating to see her suffer, he stroked her hair. “It’s all right, Jessie. Just let it all out.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I can’t. I have to be strong for Dad’s sake. He’s counting on me.”
A low chuckle rumbled from him. “You are strong, but you’ve been injured, shot at and nearly killed. All that and your father’s illness, and I’m amazed you haven’t fallen apart sooner.”
“I don’t want to fall apart.”
“I know. But you can lean on me, and I won’t tell anyone,” he said in a teasing tone.
“No, I have to stand on my own.” She clutched his arms. “And I have to protect Daddy. If word leaks that he’s ill, business investors may refuse to work with us. And even you thought he was guilty of murder.”
“Maybe if you’d confided to me about his condition, I would have dismissed him as a suspect earlier.”
Her labored breath rattled in the air between them. “I know. But I wanted to protect him. To make him proud…I wanted him to love me.”
Her last words wrenched his heart. Emotions churning in his throat, he swallowed to make his voice work. “How could he not love you, Jessie? You’re beautiful, strong, smart, you take care of everyone, and you’ve helped make the ranch a success.”
“Then why didn’t he want me enough to fight for me years ago?” she whispered. “Why didn’t he ever send for me or plan visits?”
Her anguish tore at him, and he had to alleviate her pain. So he lifted her chin, and forced her to look at him. “Ahh, Jessie…”
She tried to look away, seemed embarrassed that she’d admitted a weakness, which only fueled his admiration, and his need to assure her that she was loveable.
And that he wanted her.
Heat speared his body as her gaze met his and passion flared between them. Her feminine scent enveloped him, her eyes implored him to touch her, her lips begged for a kiss.
The pull of passion overcame him, and he succumbed to the need, lowered his head and claimed her mouth with his. She leaned into him, pressed
her palm against his cheek, and met his kiss with a moan of desire.
Their tongues teased, danced together in a sensual rhythm that made hunger drive him to slide his hands down her shoulders, then to yank her up against him. She threaded her fingers into his hair, deepening the kiss and stroking his calf with her foot.
A groan of excitement erupted from deep in his chest, driving him to trail kisses along her jaw down to her neck. Hungry for more, he nibbled the sensitive flesh of her ear, then slipped open the buttons of her blouse to reveal luscious breasts encased in red lace.
God, she was sexy. All feminine and needy and whispering erotic sounds that made his sex throb.
With a flick of his fingers, he opened the front clasp of her bra, then hissed a breath of appreciation as her gorgeous breasts spilled from the restraints into his waiting hands.
She threw her head back in abandon, and he accepted her offering, and lowered his mouth to one ripe, bronzed nipple. She groaned and whispered his name, and he licked the tip of the turgid peak, teasing one breast then the other, until her breathing grew raspy.
His heart pounded with the need to take her, fast and furious, but he forced himself to slow down. He wanted to pleasure her, to alleviate her pain for the night.
Dammit, he wanted to forget the case existed, and show her that she could be loved.
That he wasn’t the enemy, but a man who craved her body. One who’d wanted her from the moment he’d laid eyes on that fiery red hair and those killer legs.
He sucked her nipple between his lips, and her legs buckled. She clung to him as he lifted her and carried her to her bedroom. With one quick swipe, he tossed the homemade quilt back and laid her on the covers.
His body was wired, tense, his sex hard and aching, about to explode.
But just as he reached for the zipper to her jeans, a boom exploded in the distance.
Jessie stared at him in fear and horror. “That’s in the north pasture,” she whispered.
Cabe choked back a command to urge her to forget the noise, that he had to have her now, that he wanted to taste the sweet heart of her between her thighs and pound himself inside her until she cried out his name in ecstasy.
But the ground was rumbling, the echo of the explosion reverberating through the room.
They had to go.
PANIC SPURNED JESSIE into action. An explosion had occurred on her ranch. Were animals hurt? Work hands?
Cabe adjusted his jeans, and she realized his erection was still straining against his fly. For a brief second, she allowed herself to revel in the fact that he’d wanted her, and regretted the intrusion.
But the echo of that explosion haunted her. They had to find out what had happened.
“Ready?” Cabe asked.
She nodded, and they rushed outside to the Jeep. Her pulse raced as he sped over the ruts in the dirt road toward the northern end of the land. In the distance, she spotted smoke and dust curling into the darkness, and she prayed none of their hands had been injured.
“What the hell?” Cabe muttered as he threw the Jeep into Park.
Dirt and rock had been disturbed, bushes and small brush uprooted, a mound of broken rock blocking the creek. He removed his weapon and forced Jessie behind him as they climbed out and slowly searched the area.
“The creek in the upper part of north pasture has dried up,” Jessie said. “Someone has been sabotaging us.”
“No one is here,” Cabe said as he swept a flashlight across the terrain. “The explosion must have been set on a timer.” He hissed, then swung around to Jessie. “The burial site. Whoever set this knew we’d come here to check it out. It was a diversion.”
Jessie’s pulse clamored with the realization that he was probably right, and they raced back to the Jeep, jumped in and flew to the site. As soon as they arrived, they leaped from the vehicle.
“Oh, my God,” Jessie gasped, then pointed to a jagged rock. “There’s Deputy Spears. He’s been hurt.”
Cabe pulled his gun again, his gaze skimming the perimeter as he crept toward the deputy, then knelt and checked for a pulse.
“Is he still alive?” Jessie whispered.
“Yes. Go back to the Jeep, call an ambulance and the sheriff.”
Jessie’s heart pounded as she raced to do as he said. But when she reached for the Jeep door, footsteps crackled behind her.
Then the cock of a gun echoed in the eerie silence.
Fear crawled up her spine, and she started to scream, but the sharp jab of a gun stabbing her back forced her into silence.
Chapter Eleven
Deputy Spears was still alive, but Cabe spotted another man lying on the ground beside the platform Nina had built, and cursed.
Blood oozed from his chest, and his eyes stared blankly into the night, wide with the shock of death. Judging from the description he’d been given of McLandon, he guessed this was the collector who’d bought the artifacts from Charla.
A shuffling noise behind him made him twist around and swing his Sig up, ready to fire. But the blood rushed to his head when he spotted Charla pointing a gun at Jessie’s head. Charla looked panicked, wild-eyed. Dangerous.
“Charla,” he said between clenched teeth, “what are you doing?”
Her hand shook as she waved the .38 at Jessie’s temple. “Make a move and I’ll kill her.”
“Charla, please don’t do this,” Jessie whispered. “No one else needs to die.”
Charla shoved Jessie down onto her knees in the dirt. “You should have left things alone,” Charla cried. “None of this would have happened if you Rangers hadn’t shown up. You’ve ruined everything.”
“McLandon is dead,” Cabe said. “Why did you kill him, Charla? Was he getting greedy?”
“Yes, the stupid jerk,” she screeched. “He found out there were other artifacts here and got impatient.”
“So he set that explosion to draw us away long enough for him to steal some of them,” Jessie said.
“Yes,” Charla wailed. “I tried to convince him it was too risky, to wait until things died down. But he wouldn’t listen.”
“So you shot him,” Cabe said matter-of-factly.
Charla’s face crumpled, tears blurring her eyes. “We fought and the gun went off. It was an accident.” She snatched a hank of Jessie’s hair and Jessie winced in pain.
“But it won’t be an accident if you kill Jessie and me,” Cabe said.
“Please, Charla,” Jessie said. “We’ll tell everyone you didn’t mean to kill him.”
“Was Billy’s death an accident, too, Charla?” Cabe said harshly. “Or did you kill him because he threatened to expose you?”
“I didn’t kill Billy,” Charla shouted. “I would never have hurt him.”
“But you doctored the papers for the land deal, then arranged the deal with Jonah.”
A brittle laugh resounded from Charla. “Yes, and we made a good deal. He got the land and I got the artifacts.”
“You took advantage of my father,” Jessie shouted.
“Do you know how valuable those artifacts are?” Charla screamed. “They’re worth a fortune.”
“Yes, they’re invaluable,” Cabe said between gritted teeth. “But those artifacts belong to the Comanche Nation.”
Charla shook her head madly. “Why? So they can sit in some stupid museum?”
“Is that why you killed that antiquities broker, Mason Lattimer?” Cabe asked. “And Ray Phillips? They discovered you didn’t rightfully own those artifacts, and threatened to overturn the deal.”
“Those stupid men panicked,” Charla snapped. “They claimed there were spirits on the land, that they had been haunting them, that we had to return the artifacts.”
“So you lured them out here, then murdered them and buried them in a ritualistic style to throw off the police and make them think that Daniel Taabe had killed them,” Cabe said. “That’s cold, premeditated murder, Charla.”
Jessie twisted her head around to glare at Charla.
“My father was sick, and you made the Rangers suspect him. How could you put him through that, Charla?”
“Shut up!” Perspiration trickled down Charla’s face, and she raised the hand holding the gun and swiped her hair back from her face. “You should have stayed out of it, Jessie.”
“And you shouldn’t have murdered those innocent people!” Jessie snapped.
Cabe’s finger tightened on his trigger, ready to fire, but Jessie swung her body around and jabbed her elbow into Charla’s knee.
Charla yelped in pain, her leg buckling. She grappled for control, but her gun fired into the air, and she fell backward and dropped the gun.
Cabe lunged forward in attack, and kicked the weapon out of reach. Charla struggled to push herself up, but Jessie punched her in the face, and she cried out as blood spurted from her nose.
Screeching like a crazed person, Charla launched up to attack Jessie, but Cabe aimed his gun at her chest. “It’s over, Charla. Touch her and I’ll shoot.”
Charla froze, and he helped Jessie stand, keeping his Sig trained on Charla. The realization that she’d been caught registered in her defeated look, then she began to sob pathetically.
CHARLA LOOKED SO pathetic that Jessie almost felt sorry for her. But she had almost killed her, and she had committed multiple murders.
Sheriff Hardin roared up with Dr. McGrath, the coroner, on his tail, and an ambulance.
Cabe pushed Charla toward the sheriff’s car while the paramedics rushed to take care of Deputy Spears.
“Charla tried to kill Jessie, and she confessed to murdering Lattimer, Phillips and McLandon,” Cabe said.
Charla balked against the handcuffs, but Cabe squeezed her arm tightly. “There’s no use fighting it, Charla. We caught you red-handed. You’re going to jail for a long time.”
“What about Marcie and Daniel Taabe?” the sheriff asked. “Did you kill them, too?”
“No,” Charla cried. “I swear I didn’t.”
Jessie frowned. Why would she deny murdering two other people when she was already going to jail for four counts of murder?
