Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

  “Maybe, but there’s more to it.” Summers toyed with the frayed corner of her napkin. “I’m sure you heard the rumors.”

  “I’m not one to listen to scuttlebutt in the departments. Leads to nothing but trouble.”

  She pursed her lips. “Trouble about sums it up.”

  “Summers, I don’t care what happened in your past. We all have things we’d rather not dredge up.” Dark things.

  Her gaze met his. “You sound like you speak from experience.”

  “Maybe.”

  She picked up her fork and continued eating.

  Remy meant what he said. If anyone were to get too close to his past, they’d find more trouble than they could handle. But Summers piqued his curiosity. What kind of demons did she run from?

  “So, Iron Man laughed?”

  “Yeah.” She gave him a contemplative look. “Does everyone have a superhero nickname in your department?”

  He crossed his arms on the counter and leaned into them. “Just about. My partner, Anderson, is the exception so far. We call him C-Bar.”

  She laughed again. “Candy bar. That’s good.”

  “What’ve you heard about mine?”

  “Are you sure you want to know?”

  “I’ve heard ’em all, Summers. What’s the latest one?”

  “Ice Man.”

  “Huh. Seems fitting.”

  “Better than the other one I heard from the tech gals.”

  “Hmm, now that would be interesting. What is it?”

  Summer bolted from her stool. “Oh no. I’m not telling you. It’s borderline sexual harassment.”

  “That good?”

  “What an ego.” Her gaze darted to the nearest clock. “Wow, it’s late. I better go.” Gathering her purse and the remainder of the six-pack, she made a beeline for the door.

  Remy trailed a few steps behind.

  Hand on the doorknob, she faced him. “Thanks for not kicking me to the curb for showing up here unannounced.”

  “You did bring food.”

  Her eyes twinkled behind her glasses. “See you tomorrow, Detective.”

  “Night.”

  She gave a quick nod and stepped outside. Remy waited until her car pulled out of the parking lot to turn off the lights and lock the door. Withdrawing the gun from the sidebar, he returned it to its secret drawer, then cleaned the kitchen.

  As he finished up, his cell rang. Grabbing it up, he answered while stuffing the plates into the dishwasher. “LeBeau.”

  “Do you think you could do any better than that moron Moreno?”

  Remy bolted upright. “Who is this?”

  The digitally altered voice laughed. “Now what’s the fun in this game if I tell you?”

  Scanning the windows, Remy inched out of the kitchen. “This game isn’t too fun if you ask me, chien.”

  “Well, it’s not up to you to tell me what’s fun and not.”

  Good, he pushed a button. He glanced at the screen. Caller ID blocked.

  “Listen up, LeBeau. I’ll have my fun, and when I’m through, I’m gone.”

  “What makes you think I won’t catch you?”

  “Moreno thought he could stop me, and look where it got him. You won’t succeed where he failed.”

  “Now that’s where you’re wrong. I’m not Moreno.”

  “Cocky. I’m going to enjoy our little game, Detective.” The connection died.

  Remy swore and called Moreno.

  “What, LeBeau? I’m trying to sleep.”

  “Your killer has a personal grudge against me and you it seems. I just got off the phone with him.”

  Moreno let loose in Spanish. “Call the IT guys and see if they can pull his number. And pack your things. You’re not staying there alone.”

  “I’m not leaving my home.”

  “LeBeau, you’re a moving target.”

  Remy clenched his jaw and counted to five. “Sir, is there something you forgot to mention about this lunatic?”

  “No.”

  “Did he ever harass you while you were investigating his case?”

  “Not me. But that doesn’t mean he didn’t harass Jack.”

  Remy sank onto the bottom step and finger-combed his hair. “Level straight with me, Moreno. I’m tired of the surprises. Who was this guy really after? The women, or the cops?”

  Seconds ticked past, then Moreno sighed. “I don’t honestly know.”

  Chapter Ten

  Stacked on the corner of the kitchen table, the Red Moon ledgers glared at Cody. A neon green sticky note attached to the top book drew her to the pile.

  Cody, these need updated ASAP. You’re behind by almost a month, Dad.

  Did she have to update the ranch books today? She was behind. And with a rare day off, she better make the best of it. The longer she waited, the more work would pile up.

  But first, coffee.

  A full pot waited for her. Bless Dad. With a mug in hand, Cody sorted the ledgers by importance. Her hand froze on the cover of Gone with the Wind. What was this doing in here? She groaned. Two days ago, while putting it back on the shelf, the phone rang. She’d set the book down on the desk. Dad must have grabbed it by accident when he dragged the ledgers downstairs.

  She tapped her fingers on the cover, then opened it to the page where the letter hid. Why torture herself with the past? Why not open it? Words couldn’t hurt her. She made a fist to cease her shaking hand, then slapped the book shut. Shoving the book to the opposite side of the table, she turned away.

  Cody took a long breath and let it out slowly. Numbers and figures. Time to think like an accountant today. She lifted the mug to her lips.

  When the dogs sang out in agitated greeting, she jerked and sipped too much coffee, burning her tongue. She slapped a hand to her mouth, swallowed, and then blew on her bottom lip. What the hell were those dogs barking at?

  Setting her cup down, Cody stomped to the door and brushed aside the curtain. LeBeau’s black Corvette sat in the driveway, and the handsome devil was strolling up the pea-gravel walk with the dogs prancing around him like circus clowns. Cody let the curtain fall back and grimaced.

  What was he doing here? Hadn’t they seen enough of each other all weekend? She looked down. Damn, she still wore her pajamas. What a way to greet him. Her gaze darted to the door and then to the ceiling. She didn’t have time to change, even if she ran into the laundry room and threw on dirty clothes. Well, at least she had on sweat pants and a large tee shirt, but a robe would’ve been nice.

  LeBeau knocked on the front door. Hissing through her clenched teeth, Cody hurried out of the kitchen, the saloon-style doors whomping back and forth. Maybe she could keep him outside with the door open a crack? Right. He didn’t show up to be regulated to porch furniture.

  Gathering herself, she cracked the door wide enough to peer out. Remy stood off to the side with his hands buried in his leather coat. She pulled the door open further and leaned against the frame. “What are you doing here, Detective?”

  “I thought we were past the formality stage.”

  She sighed. “I repeat, what are you doing here, Remy, at this hour?”

  He propped his elbow on the wall and leaned in to it. When his jacket moved, she glimpsed a dark blue shirt, and the butt of his weapon peeking out from his right hip. She swallowed hard. He looked sexy as sin and just as dangerous. Her gaze darted back to his face, catching him giving her the once-over. Suddenly self-conscious, Cody glanced down. The light blue tee, a gag gift from JC that read Do not start with me, you will not win, and a nappy pair of sweats made her feel exposed. No one but Dad saw her this way.

  Remy’s lazy smile turned her stomach into a bucking bronc. Cody itched to slap herself into submission.


  “If I promise not to start the battle, can I win it?” he asked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of God. You didn’t come here to flirt, so what is it?”

  Pushing off the wall, he moved as if to come inside. Cody stepped back to allow him in.

  “We need to talk.” He brushed past her and headed in the direction of the kitchen.

  “Come on in. Make yourself right at home.” She swung the door shut, making the keys on the wall jingle. The sound rattled her nerves. And how in the hell did he know where to go?

  She dashed across the floor and slid through the swinging doors. Remy glanced over his shoulder as he poured coffee into a mug she could’ve sworn was in the cupboard. He scooted out a chair from under the table and sank into it. Oh, he was too comfortable in this house for having never set foot in it.

  “I was being sarcastic,” she said.

  “You look amazingly well-kept for someone who just got out of bed.” He sipped his coffee.

  She blinked and her insides did a funny little twist. The odd sensation traveled to her toes. Cody banished the feeling and dredged up a bushel of ire. “And you’re five seconds away from getting dumped on the floor.”

  His face lit up from behind his mug. “Are you always this grouchy in the morning?”

  “Only when I haven’t had my two cups of coffee. You’re coming on to me while I sit dangerously low on caffeine.”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing? Coming on to you?”

  Of all the conceited … Remy’s boatload of charm made most cowboys seem tame. Cody stepped over his outstretched legs and bent down to look him in the eyes. “Detective LeBeau, your intentions are as plain as needles on a cactus.”

  That cocky grin appeared and he winked. “I can be mighty prickly if I get the urge.”

  “Go take a flying leap.” She stepped back over his legs and plopped down in a chair, pulling her coffee cup close.

  “What’s all this?” He gestured at the ledgers.

  “Bookwork.”

  “For?”

  “The ranch.” She took a sip of her coffee.

  Remy gave a curt nod and drank.

  Was he ever going to get to the point?

  “Shouldn’t you be questioning JC?”

  His eyes narrowed. “How’d you know about that?”

  “JC showed up at my trailer last night fightin’ mad and blurted it out. By the way, thanks for that. I don’t need my friends mad at me.”

  “He made his own assumptions; I didn’t tell him a thing.”

  “Kinda hard to hide the fact that I knew about him and Clare, then you come around interrogating him.”

  “I haven’t interrogated him. Not until later this morning.”

  Cody gripped her mug, pretending it was his neck. “Then why are you here?”

  “I wanted to hear how you did last night.”

  “Read the paper.” She sipped some coffee.

  “I didn’t invest in you to read it in the paper.”

  She choked down her coffee and cleared her throat. “Ha! If I hadn’t shown up at your department and handed you the tickets, you’d never have given me a second thought. And if you did, you would’ve read it in the paper anyway.”

  A sly expression passed over his face. “But I don’t have to.”

  Cody sighed, placing her cup on the table and leaned forward. “Forking out money for a one-time sponsorship didn’t help me win.”

  “So, you won?”

  “Yeah, I did. Cinching my spot at the top of the NFR list.”

  “Good,” he said from behind his mug.

  “Well.” Cody slapped her knees and stood. “Now that your curiosity has been quenched, you can leave. ’Cause as you see, I have a lot of work to do.”

  He pointed at the ledgers. “You’re doin’ this?”

  “You think all I do is chase cans?”

  “Non.”

  “I’m the ranch manager, LeBeau. When I’m not on the road, I’m balancing the checkbook. And right now, you’re eating up my time.”

  Slow as molasses in January, and as thick, he stood and placed his cup in the sink. Cody crossed her arms as he strolled past and avoided eye contact.

  “That’s not the only reason I’m here.”

  She turned. “You’ve disrupted my life entirely, what’s a little more.”

  Remy stared at her a moment. “Do you know anything else about JC and Clarisa? Something you forgot to mention?”

  “No. What I told you is all I know.”

  “Cody?”

  “Remy, I told you everything I knew about JC and Clare. Besides, it’s not like I kept track of them. When they were dating, I had problems of my own.”

  One eyebrow lifted and his dark eyes glinted. “Like what?”

  She scowled. “None of your business. It doesn’t pertain to these cases.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because it was right after my momma died, that’s how I know. Two whole years before this serial killer started his spree.”

  A muscle twitched in his cheek. “Who said it was a serial killer?”

  Well, look at that. The Cajun didn’t like it when someone held the upper hand. When was the last time he got knocked down a peg or two? Cody rolled her shoulders and cleared her throat. “Funny thing about reporters. They like to dig around and pull up the past, then put it in the paper. Rodeo Sweethearts killer. How original.”

  Remy grunted. “I don’t come up with ’em.”

  “I bet not.”

  With a shake of his head, he started for the door, then paused and faced her. “Take this as friendly advice. This murder investigation has gotten dangerous. Don’t go anywhere without your dad.”

  Frowning, Cody’s hands fell to her sides. Had LeBeau bugged her, heard Dad’s comment last night, and came to back him up? “Why do you care?”

  “I’m a cop, Cody.”

  As if that was the answer to everything. She shook her head. “Then why tell me?”

  “Just stay safe, cher.” He pushed through the saloon-style doors.

  She gaped at the flapping doors. No, she wouldn’t read in to it. This was a high profile case, and he probably had a promotion on the line. He didn’t care about her — he said so. With a growl, Cody grabbed her cup from the table and stalked to the sink. Pouring her cooled coffee down the drain, she looked at his mug, and then moved to the window. LeBeau backed his Corvette out of the driveway and left.

  Forty-five minutes from Dallas to the Red Moon. A phone call would’ve been cheaper.

  Cody released a shuddering breath. He cared.

  • • •

  Low conversation and the clack of computer keys, punctuated by the occasional laugh, filled the void around Remy. Elbows propped on the desk with his head cradled between his hands, he stared at the backside of his eyelids.

  Down the hall in Interrogation Three, C-Bar was questioning JC Manning about Clarisa Jacobs’ death. Remy let his partner take this one alone. If what Cody said earlier about Manning being mad at her was true, Remy’s presence could cause friction.

  He checked his watch. Going on two hours now. He flopped against the backrest and looked at the dimpled ceiling tiles. Wasn’t much to do until Anderson returned with either interview notes or a confession. And since Manning lawyered up, there was little chance they’d get the latter.

  The dimples blurred and reorganized into Cody’s image with her long hair mussed from sleep. Catching her off-guard in her sweats and an over-large tee shirt had been a surprise to him as much as it had her. And it left him with thoughts of seeing her like that more often. Possibly with less on.

  He shook the thought loose. No reason to go there.

  Why did she pl
ague him? Compared to Marie, Cody didn’t stack up.

  A lithe, dark brunette, Marie was bubbly and cultured. Polished to be the wife of a man of powerful means, Marie kept her composure and didn’t lose her temper. Cody, on the other hand, was a lit fuse. Most comfortable in the world of country folk, she wore a haunted look in her eyes. A look that Remy saw reflected in the mirror every morning.

  But Cody’s sharp mind intrigued him. Marie refused to spar, preferring to keep peace in their household and downplay her intelligence. While she was alive, Remy didn’t mind, especially after a difficult day on New Orleans’s streets. Now, a confrontation with Cody made his heart pump faster and his nerves vibrate. He wanted it. Almost craved it.

  “Are you Detective LeBeau?”

  Remy lunged forward at the unfamiliar voice and stood. “Yes.” He stuck out his hand. “Mr. Jacobs?”

  “Yeah.” Standing at about six-foot-six, wide-shouldered and probably tipping the scales at close to three hundred, Artie Jacobs looked like he’d been a defensive lineman for the Dallas Cowboys. His hand engulfed Remy’s. “I’m here to see my baby girl.” The man choked on his words.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, sir.”

  Jacobs’s eyes watered and he nodded.

  “If you could wait for me by the door, I need to let my lieutenant know you’re here. Then we’ll go.”

  Mopping his craggy face with a handkerchief, Jacobs cleared his throat. “Sure thing, Detective.” He lumbered over to the exit and took a seat on the bench.

  Remy scrubbed his face. Bon Dieu, how he hated this. He shrugged into his suit jacket and headed for Moreno’s office, giving the door a rap. “Sir?”

  Moreno looked up. “Yeah?”

  “Clarisa Jacobs’s father is here to ID her body. Anderson is still questioning Manning. I’m going to take Jacobs down to the morgue.”

  “All right.” Moreno returned to his reading. “Give the man my condolences.”

  “Oui.”

  Remy caught up his coat when he passed his desk. The squeak of hinges brought his attention to the interrogation rooms. Anderson exited, stepping aside to allow Manning and his lawyer to exit.

  “I’ll be in touch,” Anderson said.

  Manning’s gaze slid up and met with Remy’s. A dark scowl covered the cowboy’s face.