Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

  “Katrina. I think he left right after it hit.” Cody gripped JC’s shoulders. “Maybe someone was killed in the hurricane. And he had to leave because of the memories.”

  “Maybe.” He tapped her head. “See, I knew you were smart.”

  She stuck out her tongue. “Let’s finish up. I want to go talk to him before I leave tomorrow.”

  “Could you grab the leg wraps and fly spray? I think I left ’em down by Whip’s stall.”

  “Got it.”

  The secrets had been there this whole time. But Cody had blinders on because of her own painful memories. If Remy lost someone he loved, it explained why he was reluctant to get close to her. Guilt, disbelief, loss of trust. Any of those things could build walls and lock people out. When Momma died, Cody had done the same things. And some of those walls still remained. Where she differed from Remy lay in her foundation and Dad. If Remy ran from his home, then he had no one to help him.

  She grabbed the supplies and headed back for the trailer. She stepped out of the barn. “JC, where do you want these?”

  Chirping birds answered her. She looked around and didn’t spot him. “JC?” She peered around the left side of the trailer, then to the right.

  He lay sprawled on the ground, half hidden by the front end of the trailer. Cody gasped. Another set of legs appeared from behind the trailer. Her gaze traveled up into the gleaming eyes of a bruised man, holding a long-bladed knife.

  “Hello, Cody.”

  Shrieking, she threw the bottle and wraps at him and bolted for the barn. As she passed the trailer door, she flung it back. The sound of the metal smacking flesh and vehement cursing bolstered her. She ran down the aisle. Horses squealed and kicked stall doors. At the back of the barn a staircase led to the old haymow JC had converted into a tree house when they were kids. From there, Cody could access the outside staircase and hopefully run for the house.

  She glanced over her shoulder. The man was closing in on her. A wheelbarrow full of manure caught her attention. She grabbed the handles and sent the thing rolling. It teetered, wobbled, and tipped over, spilling its contents in the man’s path. Spinning on her heel, she careened around a support post and dashed for the stairs.

  “Clever, Cody. But this won’t stop me.”

  She took the steps two at a time. The toe of her boot hooked on an edge and she stumbled, catching herself before she raked her shins against the steps. She scrambled up the last few steps and darted behind a wall that separated the mow from what used to be the grain room. Body plastered against the old wood, she grabbed deep breaths and listened.

  Oh God, I hope he doesn’t know about the outside stairs.

  A metallic taste formed in the back of her throat. Cody tried to swallow, but her throat tightened. A sob rattled her chest. She clamped her mouth shut against the sound.

  Heavy footsteps on the stairs made her stiffen. Her legs turned to rubber at the grate of metal against wood, like he was dragging the blade along the wall. An image of what he could do with the knife flashed through her head. Her stomach quivered.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

  Her fear fled at the taunt in his voice. No way was she going down without a fight. Momma hadn’t stood a chance against her killer. Cody would make hers regret he’d thought of her as an easy target.

  Come and get me!

  She shoved off the wall, ran five strides, and smashed through the door. It banged shut behind her as she scurried down the steps. At the last few, she jumped off and hit the ground running. The house. Get to the house. There would be a rifle, or a shotgun, something to protect herself with.

  A male curse from behind made her glance back. He was coming.

  Cody’s foot caught in a hole, and she crashed to the ground in a heap. Fire tore through her ankle. She rolled onto her knees, saw the man closing, and jumped onto her feet. Sharp, stabbing pain shot up her leg. Gritting her teeth, she ran through it. Tears coated her eyes and slipped down her cheeks.

  So close. The house was only a few yards away.

  “Gotcha!”

  He tackled her, and she slammed into the ground. Air expelled from her lungs and dirt sprayed her face. Cody gasped and struggled under his grip. His body lifted off hers and she bucked hard. Hold loosened, she rolled onto her back. Her attacker grappled to gain control. She kicked and swung her arms, her fists connecting a few times. He reared up and sat on her legs.

  Screaming, she flopped back. Unable to move and having his weight on her hurting ankle was too much. A prick on her throat stifled the screams.

  “That’s enough, bitch.”

  She fixed her eyes on him. A wicked grin played along his lips. He reached out. Cody flinched and squeezed her eyes shut. When nothing happened, she peeled her eyes open.

  He fondled her hair, an odd look of pleasure on his face. “Ironic how you get sucked up in this, and you happen to have red hair and green eyes. Just like all the others.” He brought the knife close to her face.

  Cody whimpered and rolled her head away.

  He chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you.” He grabbed a hunk of her hair. “Yet.” He hacked off a handful, then stuffed it in a plastic bag.

  Shoving it in a pocket, he withdrew a bottle and a rag. “Now, to keep you from causing trouble.” He doused the rag.

  “What do you want with me?” She croaked out the words.

  His eyes glittered. “To make LeBeau pay.” He pressed the rag to her nose and mouth.

  Cody tried not to breathe, squirming and bucking, but the fumes got through. Blackness edged her sight and a warm weight dragged on her. Then, nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Remy entered the command room and spotted Lieutenant Moreno with Santorini in front of the victim and evidence boards. Remy couldn’t believe he was doing this. But if he wanted to keep Cody safe, he had to do it. Remy weaved through the maze of tables.

  “Lieutenant.”

  Moreno looked over his shoulder, a startled expression on his face. “LeBeau, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “My job. A few stitches won’t stop me from catching this guy.”

  “A few death threats didn’t either.” Santorini spun his chair and sat.

  Moreno flashed the PI a scowl then faced Remy. “Did you need something?”

  “A favor.”

  “For what?”

  “Cody. Get her into protective custody.”

  Arms crossed, Moreno eyed him. “Does she want this?”

  “Anderson and I seriously believe the RS killer attacked me last night. If he wants revenge, he’ll go after Cody to get to me. I think that’ll be enough to convince her.”

  “All right.” Moreno picked up the phone and punched in a number. “I’ll have the Tarrant County Sheriff go to her house and bring her in. Take a seat, LeBeau. You look like you might pass out.”

  Remy eased into a chair and tried to calm his heavy breathing. The wound was taking more out of him than he expected. Of course last night’s riding lesson played a big factor in his sore muscles, too.

  “Okay, thanks, Sheriff.” Moreno hung up. “He’s sending a car out to her ranch. Should hear back soon.”

  “Boss-man, the sketch is in.” The computer whiz tapped a few keys. “Coming up on the big screen.”

  All three turned to the Promethean board as the sketch artist’s rendering appeared.

  A thrill shot through Remy, numbing the pain. Bo, the tattoo guy, had a good eye. The details were all there, from the brown eyes to the tiny white scar on the suspect’s chin. Now if they could get a name to go with the face.

  “Brad.”

  Remy gaped at Moreno. “Who?”

  “You’re sure?” Santorini asked.

  Pain and anger flashed
through Moreno’s eyes. “Luc, I watched the kid grow up. I’d know him anywhere. Five years or not.”

  Remy’s gut churned. They knew who the RS killer was? Not once had either of them mentioned this to him or Anderson. Had these two allowed a deranged killer to beat the snot out of him last night? “How long have you known this?”

  Both men glanced at each other, then Remy. Moreno’s skin paled around his mouth as he drew it into a tight line.

  Santorini sighed and sat forward, resting his arms on the edge of the table and intertwining his fingers. “We suspected yesterday afternoon.”

  Of all the damn, pigheaded … Remy curbed the urge to lash out. “And you couldn’t bother to give me a heads-up before I nearly got gutted?”

  Deep rows formed along Moreno’s forehead, and his eyes turned a darker shade. “The MO wasn’t there, LeBeau.”

  Hands curled into fists, Remy forced himself to stand. Heat surged through his veins. “It was. The RS killer attacked Aaron Clark. Remember? The guy whose ID he stole. Right there was your clue he was capable of changing his MO.”

  Behind him, Santorini groaned. “He’s right, Carlos. We had the clues.”

  “It still doesn’t change the outcome.” Moreno turned his flinty gaze on Remy. “LeBeau, you refused to have your place patrolled. Had you listened to reason in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “That may be so, sir. But I doubt that would’ve stopped him.”

  The phone shrilled, cutting off Moreno. He grabbed up the receiver. “Lieutenant Moreno.” Color drained from his face. “When?” He closed his eyes and bowed his head. “We’re on our way.” He set the receiver back on the cradle. Slowly, he looked at Remy.

  His solemn, I’ve-got-bad-news-and-don’t-know-how-to-tell-you expression punched Remy in the gut. He sank into his chair.

  “What is it, Carlos?” Santorini voiced what Remy couldn’t.

  “Cody Lewis is missing.”

  Bone-chilling dread gripped Remy’s spine and seized his chest. “What do you mean she’s missing?”

  “Heaven help us,” Santorini muttered.

  Remy slammed his fist into the tabletop. “Damn it! What do you mean Cody is missing?”

  “Exactly that, LeBeau. Neither the sheriff nor her father know where she’s gone. Apparently she took off an hour or so ago without telling Mr. Lewis.”

  French curse words streamed from Remy’s mouth. He rocketed to his feet, causing a sharp pain to spear his torso. Gritting his teeth, he stalked to the door.

  “Where are you going?” Moreno’s clipped voice brought him to a halt.

  He faced the two. “I think I know where she is.”

  “Where’s that?” Santorini asked.

  “Packing to leave for Las Vegas.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Red and blue lights strobed above an ambulance and the two police cars. The deathlike grip on Remy’s muscles tightened. It couldn’t be happening again.

  Once Anderson parked the car next to the sheriff’s, Remy bailed as fast as his battered body allowed. The Escalade crunched to a stop, blocking their escape.

  Ignoring Santorini and Moreno as they exited the SUV, Remy marched past the emergency vehicles. A familiar silver Stetson drew him to the circle of men next to a trailer.

  “Logan.”

  The group parted, revealing JC propped against the trailer’s wheel well and a paramedic. Remy skidded to a halt at the sight of a bloody gash along the side of JC’s head and the dark purple bruise forming on the side of his neck.

  Mon Dieu!

  A dagger pierced Remy’s heart. His lungs seemed to collapse, stealing his breath. Blood pounded in his ears and the screams started again. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force back the flood of memories. No. Not Cody. His eyes snapped open.

  Logan broke from the group and gripped Remy’s shoulders. Air rushed in his mouth and inflated his lungs once again. He met Logan’s gaze. An odd look passed through the man’s eyes. Remy’s gut clenched. Did he know? Recognize the symptoms?

  A breeze brushed against Remy’s skin, chilling him. He looked down at his hands and noticed the light sheen. The panic attack happened right in front of everyone.

  “What’s going on?” Anderson’s demand snapped Remy back into cop mode.

  “Are you Detective LeBeau?” the sheriff asked.

  Remy moved past Logan. “Yes.”

  The Stetson-clad man in a brown and tan uniform glowered. “Son, you’ve just brought a heap of trouble in my county.” He turned to the barn. “Follow me.”

  Remy looked at JC. Cody’s best friend pressed an ice pack to his neck, his eyes glistening. Throat tightening, Remy turned away from him and followed the sheriff. Once his eyes adjusted to the dim interior, he zeroed in on the sheriff standing in front of an open door. Santorini and Anderson entered the barn behind Remy.

  “Would y’all mind explaining this to me?” The sheriff swung the door shut.

  Buried deep into the wood, a knife pierced a plastic baggie filled with red hair and a note written in red marker.

  She doesn’t have long to live. Find her if you can, LeBeau!

  Anderson swore.

  Whatever strength Remy had left fled. He threw out a hand and grabbed the edge of a stall door for support. He’d done it again. Nausea rolled in his stomach. He’d killed another woman close to him. His stupid, irrational behavior had put Cody right into Brad’s sights and killed her.

  “We’ve got time.” Anderson’s statement penetrated the fog clogging Remy’s head.

  “We don’t know that,” Santorini said. “She could be anywhere. And we have no idea if he’s bluffing or not.”

  “He wants LeBeau. Cody is just a means to the end.”

  “Which means she’s a throw away. He probably killed her already. She should have been in protective custody long before now,” Santorini snapped.

  Remy stiffened and shoved off the door. “Shut up!”

  The men jolted, staring at him like he’d grown a second head. A shadow moved in the barn doorway. Remy glanced over, meeting Logan’s solemn gaze. The one man who should be frantic and losing his mind was instead calm and collected. What in the hell was wrong with him?

  “You know who took my girl?” he asked.

  “Yes, Mr. Lewis. We do,” Anderson said.

  Crossing his arms, Logan locked eyes with Remy. “Instead of bickering like a bunch of jaybirds, strap on your boots and find her.”

  In other words: if you love my daughter, get your tail in gear and protect her.

  The memories and panic locked inside their box, Remy’s mind shifted. He could still save her.

  “What do we know?” Anderson asked.

  The sheriff extracted a notepad and flipped it open. “Mr. Manning out there said he and Ms. Lewis were loading gear to get ready to leave tomorrow for Vegas. She went into the barn to get some things. While she was doing that, he was checking on what appeared to be a loose cable connection between his truck and trailer. When he bent over, something bashed in his head. He blacked out and doesn’t remember hearing or seeing anything until he came to about ten minutes before Mr. Lewis drove up.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Ms. Lewis’s truck is missing. I have some of my deputies scouting for a concealed vehicle.”

  Brad took her truck. What would he gain from it? He had to know they’d put out the description. Unless he wanted it.

  The sheriff’s voice drew Remy back to the debriefing. “Found what appears to be signs of a struggle near the house. Our scene techs found strands of hair in the grass.”

  Remy’s heart throbbed. Cody must have tried to make a run for it and put up a fight.

  “Any blood?” Anderson asked.

  “Only with
Manning.”

  “Doesn’t mean anything,” Santorini muttered.

  Remy rankled. “Means plenty.” He moved to the door and studied the knife handle. “Have you checked for prints?”

  “Not yet.” The sheriff tapped his notepad against his leg. “We’ve got a mess here, fellas.”

  “It’s the biggest lead we’ve had in weeks.” Anderson moved to the doorway. “LeBeau.”

  He glanced at Logan and the sheriff, then followed his partner to their car. A few yards away, Moreno talked on his phone, deep red blotches on his face. He glanced at the two before moving further off.

  Anderson opened the back passenger side door and picked up a case from the floorboard. “I think we can safely assume the time of the kidnapping was about two hours ago. Brad Daniels will stay in his comfort zone. Which means within Dallas city limits.” He popped the locks on the case and lifted the lid. Nestled in the black foam lay two Rugers. Anderson removed one and a magazine. “Your weapon won’t be released from evidence yet.” He punched the magazine in the butt and held out the weapon. “You can use my backup.”

  Frowning, Remy stared at the offered weapon. “I’m not familiar with this gun.”

  A smile appeared. “Hold it. I think you’ll find it has the same balance and feel as your own.”

  “C-Bar, how do you know how my gun feels?”

  “Did you forget letting me use it one time at the range?”

  He vaguely remembered something like that occurring.

  “I liked how it handled and bought my own set.” Anderson jiggled the gun.

  Hesitatingly, Remy took the Ruger. It did have the same balance and feel as his. He cocked the slide, chambering a round, then uncocked it and pushed in the safety. That bullet was marked for Brad. One shot. It was all he’d need.

  “Believe me, LeBeau. When you’re facing the devil, do it with a friend.” Anderson gripped Remy’s shoulder. “We’ll find her.”

  Remy switched out the weapons, relishing in the familiar feel and weight of the Ruger on his hip.

  Moreno joined them. “The APB is out on Daniels. I have a unit picking up Susan.” He glanced at Remy. “LeBeau, you get first crack at her.”