Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

  “Do you have to flirt every time we’re together?”

  He shrugged. “If you don’t like it, I guess I could stop.”

  “You guess you could?”

  “I don’t make any guarantees.”

  Remy dragged out guarantees, emphasizing his Cajun accent. Cody’s body hummed.

  Something about his little slips into his native tongue unwound her resolve to avoid his lure. She swore he wanted to kiss her last night at the pool hall. Had almost lost her head and kissed him herself. Her lips parted and a breath escaped.

  Conscious of her gaping mouth, she clamped it shut.

  Seeming to read her mind, Remy’s smile widened, his dark brown eyes twinkled. “I don’t think you really want me to stop, yes?”

  With a growl, she stomped up the steps, taking a wide berth of him, and escaped into the house. The screen door clapped shut behind her, then screeched open when Remy entered.

  Cody whipped around. “Why do you keep coming here? It’s not like my ranch is a short drive from Dallas.”

  He scrutinized her, then leaned against the kitchen wall and hooked his thumbs in his jean pockets. “I’m concerned.”

  “About what?”

  His eyebrows rose. “You.”

  His answer nailed Cody to the floor. She gaped at him, then shook it off. Why did it surprise her? He was obviously attracted to her. But she sensed an underlying reason.

  “Why?”

  “You ask that a lot.”

  She slapped her hands on her hips. “Somebody should.”

  Pushing away from the wall, he closed the gap between them. Cody’s brain screamed for her to move, but she felt like a deer caught in the headlights, staring at her doom. The peppermint had returned. She drew in a long breath, savoring the mint scent. Her eyelids shuttered, then popped open. What was she doing?

  Cody took a half step back and met resistance. The counter. Her heart hammered her ribs and she gripped the counter’s edge.

  Remy’s gaze roamed her face as if memorizing it before he brushed a lock of her hair behind her shoulder, his touch lingering against her neck. Her skin goosefleshed and her fingernails dug into the wood’s soft underside.

  Seeming to snap out of his trance, Remy withdrew his hand and gave a sharp shake of his head as he backed away. Cody expelled her breath, releasing her hold on the counter. He paused next to the table where the ranch ledgers still covered the top and stared at them.

  “You didn’t answer me.” Her voice wobbled on the words.

  His gaze flicked back to her, then he turned a page in the feed store book. “Mais non, cher, I didn’t.”

  “Are you?”

  “Probably not.”

  Her fingernails bit into her palms. Drawing in a slow breath, Cody let it out, unclenching her jaw. If he wanted to play mind games with her, then she’d return the favor. “Fine. Then I have a message for you.”

  He flipped the ledger closed and faced her, amusement dancing in his eyes.

  Craning her head to ease the knot in her neck, she crossed her arms. “Dad says he’s watching you.”

  Remy chuckled. “I don’t doubt it.”

  That didn’t go like she’d hoped. Most men, most cowboys, had a healthy respect for her father. Word had circulated like a brush fire after Dad threw her ex off their ranch at gunpoint. In the back of her mind, Cody worried that was why she hadn’t been asked out again. Not that she’d accept. But it stood to reason a thirty-aught-six was incentive enough to ward off the bad seeds.

  “What’s this?” Remy’s question snagged her attention.

  He withdrew a book from under the stack of ledgers. The familiar binding made Cody’s heart seize.

  She lunged for it. “Give me that.”

  He jerked it out of her reach and gently pushed her back. “Ease up, cher. It’s just a book.”

  “It’s mine.” She swatted his hand aside and grabbed for it. If he found the letter … “Give it, Remy.”

  He eyed her as he lowered his arm and held out the book to her. She saw a corner of the envelope sticking out of the pages. His gaze darted down. No, he was going to see it. She snatched the book from him, but he deftly caught the envelope and jerked it out.

  With a hiss, she managed to snag the other corner and held on. “Let go.”

  “Keeping secrets?”

  “It’s none of your business. Now let go.”

  He tugged on the envelope, but she stiffened her arm. He was going to rip it. Son of a bitch, don’t let him!

  “It’s from your mère. Why hasn’t it been opened?”

  “Damn it, Remy. Give it to me.” Her throat closed and cracked on her words.

  He released the letter and held up his hands in surrender. She glared at him, turned away, and shoved the letter back inside the book. So help her, she was ready to slug the nosy swamp rat. She stalked to the saloon-style doors but was brought up by his hand on her shoulder. Trying to shrug him off, she took another step and found his grip tightening and drawing her around.

  Before she could leave, he took hold of her arms and rooted her in place. She wiggled, and turned her face away from him.

  “Stop fighting me, Cody.”

  She jerked her head up and glared at him. “Why should I?”

  “I’m trying to help.”

  “By snooping around where you don’t belong? Some help.”

  He frowned. “That letter obviously means a lot to you. So why haven’t you opened it?”

  “And why should it matter to you?”

  “A letter from your mère, I’d think it’d matter a lot.”

  “Maybe it does, but it’s none of your business.” She tilted her chin and glared at him. “Get your hands off me.”

  He dragged her closer.

  Cody leaned back, struggling to keep space between them. Any closer and she’d lose her self-control. Electrified ripples zipped through her body, coiling around her mid-section and making her woozy at his spicy scent. She started to hyperventilate.

  “I’m tired of the secrets, Cody. You’re not telling me everything.”

  “With good reason.” She crushed the book to her chest, barring her heart from him. “You’re a cop investigating a murder I happened to stumble on. Once this is solved, you’ll be out of my life.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes. I do. You’re not good for me, Remy.”

  His jaw line went rigid. “Maybe you’re right.” He released her and slid his fingers through his hair.

  Cody grabbed a few quick breaths until she could breathe normally, but clutched the book to her chest, hoping to hide the erratic beat of her heart.

  Muttering something in Cajun, Remy turned his back on her and stalked to the kitchen sink. Hands braced on the sides, he stared out the window, his broad shoulders rising and falling.

  Wet heat prickled in her eyes. Squeezing them shut, she bowed her head and tried to bring herself under control. How did one man manage to chip at the walls and find the holes in six years of hard work? She couldn’t give her heart to a man she knew nothing about. Not like this. Not when there were scars left by another.

  Wiping the moisture from her cheeks, she lifted her head. Remy continued to stare out the window. Could she get over this infatuation for the bad boy types?

  Slowly, Remy turned and leaned against the counter, gripping the edge. “I made you a promise last night, and I held to it. Now, I want the same in return.”

  She tightened her hold on the book. “Okay.”

  “Promise me you won’t go to the NFR.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Remy tightened his shoulders as red streaks flared from Cody’s nose to the rest of her face. Here it comes.

  “Not. Go.” Her eye
s turned hard as emeralds. “Do you know how much time, money, and injuries I’ve sacrificed to finally get there?”

  He didn’t know, but JC had spilled more than she would like. After Santorini suggested protective custody, Remy had to find a way to keep her out of the Rodeo Sweethearts killer’s hands. The best idea he could come up with was to prevent her from leaving Texas and trap her on her ranch until they had the guy.

  “It means much to you. But there are other chances to go, no?”

  She slammed the book onto the table. “Why would I give in to this cockamamie idea?”

  “The same reason I didn’t go out and put Manning in lockup when you brought me that knife.”

  “I didn’t tell you to stop doing your job.”

  Remy shoved away from the counter and stood toe-to-toe with her. “In essence, oui, you did, cher.”

  She crossed her arms and leaned closer. “You think it’s so easy. That I’d just readily give it up on your say so. Do you realize my momma was on her way back after years of failing to make the cut? Then she was killed.”

  “And you think by going you can ease the guilt.”

  Her features sagged and paled as she stumbled back. “What … ”

  “I wouldn’t be half a detective if I couldn’t see that.” He took a step closer. “Or maybe the alcohol poisoning addled your mind.” Crack!

  His head jerked to the side, cheek stinging. She struck faster than he’d anticipated. Blinking, he looked at her. “Feel better?”

  “Get outta my house.” Her voice dipped into a deadly tone. “And don’t come back. Ever.”

  Adjusting his jacket, he moved to the door. He paused and faced her. “My suggestion to you, since you fit the profile of the victims, is to stay home and never go anywhere without an escort. Would hate to find your body next.”

  She reached for a ledger. Remy threw open the door and hurried through, closing it as the book slapped the wall. With a shuddering breath, he calmly left the porch and headed to his car.

  He’d made her mad enough to hate him. Maybe it would help protect her from the Rodeo Sweethearts killer. And from himself.

  So why did it feel like he’d stabbed himself in the back?

  • • •

  Unable to sleep, Remy had tossed and turned while his mind replayed the fight with Cody, and conjured up things he wished he’d said and done instead. Now perched on the corner of the bed, he stared at the darkened floor between his bare feet.

  What had making her mad proved? That she was as capable of messing up as the next person? There’d been no point in reading her medical file, other than to satisfy his damn curiosity. The alcohol poisoning came three months after her mère’s funeral. Any fool could see Cody had wanted to drown her sorrow and got carried away.

  Remy groaned and scrubbed his face with both hands. He knew better than to get emotionally invested in this case. He should’ve listened to his instincts and steered clear, mais non he let Moreno sway him into watching out for Cody. Now Remy was dealing with the repercussions of his irrational actions.

  Forget irrational. He knew exactly what he was doing. He had to push her away, for both their sakes.

  Bracing a hand on his knee, he twisted around to look at the alarm clock. After two. If he wanted to get some rest, he’d have to do it. He pushed up from the bed and shuffled into the bathroom, turning on the dimmer switch. Squinting against the soft glow of the mirror lights, he stared at his reflected image. Dark shadows under his eyes and deep creases along his forehead made him appear twice his age. His hair stuck up at odd angles, like a wild man’s.

  He opened the medicine cabinet door. The orange translucent bottle hid behind his aftershave. It wasn’t often he needed the sleeping aid, the nightmares and memories coming far less over the years. Moving the aftershave aside, he grabbed the bottle and popped off the cap. The lower dose would do, or he wouldn’t wake in time. The pills clattered against the plastic as he shook one out.

  Cradled in the folds of his palm, Remy stared at the light blue drug. He hated being dependent on something so insignificant. Would he ever feel whole again?

  Before he could take the sleeping aid, his cell phone rang. He dropped the pill into the bottle and returned to the bedroom. The caller ID on the phone lying on his bedside table read Anderson. He pressed the talk button. “What do you want?”

  “Can’t sleep, Detective?”

  The digitally altered voice jolted Remy. Why was the killer using Anderson’s cell? Wait … did he have his partner? “What did you do to Detective Anderson?”

  “Nothing. He’s probably fast asleep, dreaming of some hot blond while you pace the floors.”

  Was this guy watching him? “How’d you get this number?”

  The killer laughed. “LeBeau, how stupid do you think I am?”

  Moving to the shadows, Remy inched closer to his window and peered through the blind slates at the street. There were no cars along the curb or parked in his driveway, but that didn’t mean the killer wasn’t parked in the lot behind the condos. “Plenty stupid to call and harass a police officer, pou.”

  “I’d watch your mouth.”

  “Why, you going to wash it out with soap, chien?”

  “Bastard! You don’t listen very well.”

  Remy slipped the Ruger from his holster. “I’ve been accused of that before, and it didn’t stop me then,” he said as he cocked the gun. He headed for the extra bedroom he used as a weight room. “Found it works better for me.”

  “Someone should knock you off that high place you set yourself on.”

  “Others have tried. And failed.” He skirted around the treadmill and plastered his body against the wall. “If you got a beef with me, then show yourself and we’ll settle it.”

  “Are all cops as arrogant as you?”

  With the barrel of his sidearm, Remy shifted the curtain until light streamed past, then studied the lot. Five vehicles, three sedans, an SUV, and a pick-up parked in the designated spots for condo owners. All belonged to his neighbors. Where was this guy and how’d he know Remy wasn’t sleeping?

  “We’re a special breed, why else would we do this job? Someone has to be smarter than those egotistical killers who think they can outmaneuver us.”

  A noise like someone choking came over the line, and then the killer chuckled. “Ahh, you almost got me again. I’m figuring you out, LeBeau. One step at a time.”

  Remy let the curtain drift back into place and his gaze darted around the room. His earlier sweep hadn’t turned up anything out of place. Had the killer gained entry and tapped his home, all without leaving a trace of his presence? “Good luck with that. Ain’t no one ever figured me out.”

  “Don’t be too sure about that. Huh, I see my time is up.”

  Remy slipped through the maze of weight equipment and dashed around the corner into his office. “Cutting me off so soon? I thought we’d chat a bit.”

  “Not a chance. There’s still much to do.”

  Dread socked Remy in the gut and stole his breath. Had the killer taken his next victim?

  “Tick tock, you’re on the clock, Detective.” The connection died.

  Swearing, Remy threw the cell phone. It shattered against the wall, the pieces littering the carpet. He slumped to the floor and pressed the butt of his weapon to his forehead. There’s still much to do. What did that mean? What did any of this mean? It was like chasing after a baby gator and coming face to face with a mess of cottonmouth snakes ready to strike. One false move and someone died.

  Chapter Fifteen

  With no ID on the victim found on Jack Hawthorne’s grave, the case had ground to a standstill. After three hours in the IT lab and no leads on tracing the call made through Anderson’s cell, Remy gave up and returned to the department. His arms felt like weights as he
pushed open the door. He should go home and attempt to get some sleep.

  But he didn’t feel safe there any more.

  He stepped onto the elevator and pushed the button for the third floor. The doors whooshed shut. Where would he sleep tonight? Had Remy told Moreno what the killer had actually said, he’d probably demand Remy find a safe house and yank him from the case. This was like New Orleans all over again.

  Running a hand over his face, Remy groaned. He should pull himself off. This case was drawing too much attention to him. If word got back to New Orleans — No, what went on in Dallas didn’t interest the nation, and no one in En Ville would care. The best way to keep it low-key was to stay on, and that meant only he and the killer knew he was being watched. Remy exited the elevator on Homicide’s floor, plodded to his desk, and flopped into the chair.

  Anderson looked at him, his mouth in a grim line. “Where you been all day?”

  “Foot work.” Remy jiggled the mouse, and the DPD Homicide logo popped onto the screen. He typed in his ID and password. “Did I miss anything?”

  “Iron Man’s been popping out for the last three hours demanding to know where you are.”

  His fingers stilled over the keyboard, and his gaze shot to Anderson. “Why?”

  “Like I know.”

  Muttering, Remy bolted from his chair and marched to the lieutenant’s office. He rapped on the door and barged in.

  “ … blames us for Brad running off … ” Moreno scowled when Remy invaded his territory. “LeBeau, you could have waited for permission to enter.”

  Remy glanced at the other occupant. Santorini nodded, a smirk playing with his mouth. Ignoring the other man, Remy shut the door and faced Moreno. “Sorry, sir, but my partner said you’ve been asking for me.”

  Moreno’s gaze darted between the two men in his office, then settled on Remy. “Luc thinks we should put Ms. Lewis in protective custody.”

  “Does he?” Remy glared at Santorini.

  “Ms. Lewis fits the victim profiles, we don’t need her to become one.”