Texas Temptation

by Kathryn Brocato

Fuzzy from the head bashing, Remy tried to sort through the things Susan said. They’d suspected she was helping Brad. And by her own admission, she was the caller threatening him. Facts clicked in to place in his head until he started to see the whole picture. Susan Hawthorne not only assisted her son, she was showing him how to kill those women. She’d known about the case files Jack brought home. And Remy would bet anything that she handed those files to her son.

  Because she had the perfect motive.

  “You’re the Rodeo Sweethearts killer.”

  Susan froze mid-step and slowly turned. “You finally figured it out.” She snickered. “I did a real bang up job making you cops chase your tails.” Her eyes narrowed as she smiled. “Jack figured it out, too. I made the mistake of mentioning the roses one time, and it clicked for him. Good thing the moron had a heart condition and was running on his last leg. Made it all the easier to kill him and set me up for life.”

  So, Santorini’s sense about the life insurance money held merit. Remy shifted, the handcuffs cut into his wrists. Why was she toying with him? What did she think she’d accomplish dragging out his death?

  She slapped the blade against her palm. “The high and mighty Moreno had his assumption all wrong.”

  Was the lieutenant next? She’d threatened to bring both of them down. “Why’d you do it in the first place?”

  “You’re clever, Detective LeBeau. You figure it out. Jack did.” She moved to the window and lifted the edge of the curtains with the knife.

  “Expecting someone?”

  Her gaze cut to him. “Not hardly.”

  “Then why wait to kill me? I’d think you’d like to get it over with and get out of town.”

  “You’d think.” Her eyes glinted. “But I have plans for you, LeBeau. And when I’m done with you, I’ll go finish off your little girlfriend.” She rubbed her thigh. “I owe the bitch.”

  Fear pulsated in his head. The demons battered the mental barriers. Flashes of memories leaked. Lying on the wood floor, blood — his blood — pooling around him. Marie screaming, and he couldn’t move. She died because he couldn’t save her.

  Cody would die.

  No! Remy wasn’t going to let it happen again. His head cleared, the barriers once more in place. Susan wouldn’t succeed where Brad failed. Remy had to find a way out of this.

  Keep her talking. Anderson should be returning any time now.

  “Why me?”

  Susan scowled. “Why not?”

  “I had nothing to do with the previous cases. I wasn’t even living here when they happened. There was no reason to target me.”

  “There’s always a reason.” Her voice dipped into menacing. “They all died for a reason.”

  The motive for the killings slapped him in the face. Terri. Susan didn’t want Brad and Terri together.

  “You killed all those women to keep Brad from Terri.”

  Susan stiffened, her knife hand twitching. She erased the shock from her face and plastered on what he could only guess was her attempt at a clever look. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

  “Did Brad know you killed the woman he loved?”

  “My son believed what he wanted to believe.”

  “Non. Wonder what he would’ve done if he’d known it was his mother. A woman hell bent on keeping her son all to herself was the one who did all this. His sick, twisted mother turned him into a revengeful killer.”

  “Shut up! You’re the one who killed him. So, it doesn’t matter any more.”

  “Mais non, it does. It matters plenty to a woman laying in a hospital bed after enduring a kidnapping, being hurt, and slapped around because she tried to fight back. And why? Because she chanced across Heather Trisk and was associated with the lead detective.” Remy smirked. “Give it up, Susan. You have nothing left.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m a rich woman. And about to become richer now that you murdered my son.”

  “Why doesn’t it surprise me that it’s all about the money?”

  “It’s not about the money!” Spittle sprayed from her mouth. “It’s about loyalty!” She swore. “Terri was turning my son against me. Filling his head with her stupid nonsense. She had to go.”

  “Except it backfired on you.”

  Red blotches covered her face. “I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”

  “Do you? Did you honestly think Moreno was that stupid not to figure out you helped Brad kill those women? Eventually he’ll put two and two together and realize you were the true killer.”

  “Enough! We’re done talking.” She stalked toward him. “I’m gonna enjoy killing you.”

  • • •

  “She’s moving toward him.”

  Luc and Anderson had slipped in through the backdoor. Susan had been so busy screaming at LeBeau that she wasn’t aware of their presence in the kitchen. The revelation that she was the true Rodeo Sweethearts killer stunned Luc. Carlos was going to be shaken.

  Luc checked his Glock once more. “We can’t wait on SWAT. He’ll be dead by then.”

  “You got his position in mind?” Anderson whispered.

  Luc tapped his temple. “Aim high, she’ll be standing over him.”

  “On three.” Anderson counted down on his fingers.

  Make my aim true. And protect the three of us.

  At three, they burst into the room, weapons trained on Susan.

  “Susan, freeze!”

  She jerked up, and stumbled back from LeBeau. Rage filled her face, and she screamed obscenities.

  The world seemed to screech to a halt and switch into slow motion. Luc’s vision narrowed to the single woman wielding a knife with her other arm behind her back. Voices and sound swirled around him, but it was more like white noise. Susan’s arm jerked, like she’d yanked something free.

  “Gun!” Luc yelled as she drew her arm around.

  His Glock bucked in his grip. The bullet found its mark in her left shoulder. His head cleared, and the screams and gunfire crashed on him all at once.

  Blood darkening her shirt and pants, Susan hit the floor with a thud, her gun and knife clattered away. She writhed in pain, her shrieks turning into hysterical sobs.

  “Secure her,” Anderson said as he inched toward his partner.

  Glock aimed at her, Luc skirted around LeBeau and freed a plastic zip tie from his Kevlar. “Roll over, Susan.”

  She glared up at him, then spit at his feet.

  “Cover me, Anderson.”

  “Go.”

  Luc holstered his weapon, then reached for her arm. She screeched more obscenities as he flipped her and secured her arms behind her back. The pain from the gunshots ceased her screaming and made her pant. He leaned close.

  “I heard everything. You’re through.”

  “Go to hell,” she gasped.

  “You first.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Remy parked the ’Vette in the department parking lot and cut the engine. A few yards away, Santorini and his team loaded their gear in the Escalade and a black van. Remy pressed his back into the seat and sighed. Things would be quiet around the department without the PI and his group.

  Exiting the car, he strolled across the lot and joined Santorini as he shut the hatch door. “You don’t plan to stick around a few more days?”

  The PI turned and grinned. “Gotta give my team the time off I promised.” He held out his hand, and Remy grasped it. “It was good working with you, Cajun. Even if we did get off on the wrong foot.”

  “I meant what I said. You’re a good cop.” Remy slipped his hand in his jean pocket. “You can watch my back any day.”

  Santorini extracted his wallet and removed a business card. “I get the sense you have some things that are d
ogging your heels.” He held out the card. “When they finally catch up to you, call me.”

  Stunned by the blunt statement, Remy blinked. He took the business card and glanced at the info.

  “Don’t underestimate a determined person, LeBeau.” The PI gripped his shoulder and squeezed. “Do you love her?”

  Remy sputtered. “Do I love who?”

  A sly grin crept onto Santorini’s face. “Yeah, you love her. Cody’s a special woman. Protect her.”

  Swallowing hard, Remy plastered a smile on his face. “I plan on it.”

  “Good. Time to go.” Santorini moved to the driver’s side door, pausing before opening it and looked back. “I’ll be seeing you.” The way he said it made it sound like he was more than certain Remy would make that call.

  Remy nodded and backed away from the SUV. Santorini gunned the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, the van with the rest of the team following. A chilly breeze buffeted Remy’s face as he watched the vehicles disappear.

  The scuff of shoes on the pavement made him look to his left. Anderson crossed his arms and stared in the direction they had gone.

  “So, partner, it’s just you and me again.” He looked at Remy. “Want to grab lunch?”

  Not since their first week as partners — and Remy shot him down — had Anderson offered to spend time together. But this case changed everything. It was time to move on, open up to the one man he could trust his life with. Honestly, Anderson had proven his worth.

  Remy smiled and nodded. “You know, partner. I do. And I know just the place.”

  • • •

  Cody sat huddled under a heavy blanket with her bad ankle stretched the length of the sofa. She stared blankly at the newscast of the serial killings and its tragic ending.

  After she was released from the hospital earlier, Cody crawled into bed and cried herself to sleep. Dad woke her an hour ago, insisting she come downstairs and eat. She managed half of his request. Her stomach rebelled at the sight of food.

  The old desire for a drink crept in. Something to numb the pain. To combat it she drank a full pot of coffee then promptly threw it up.

  She drew the edges of the blanket tighter and closed her eyes.

  I can’t do it again. I can’t lose this battle again. I can’t drink. Not now, not ever.

  The screen door screeched and clapped shut. A pair of male voices drifted from the kitchen. Cody’s eyes snapped open at the familiar accent.

  He’d come.

  Approaching footfalls made her twist around. Remy halted a few steps away. A gasp lodged in her throat at the bruises on the side of his neck and jaw.

  “What happened?”

  “I let my guard down.” He moved into the living room, pausing next to the television to watch some of the broadcast. A dark scowl crossed his face and punched the off button.

  Cody watched him turn and sit on the coffee table. He braced his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands in-between. The simple posture still made her gut churn with desire. The power he had over her was unnerving.

  “How are you doing?”

  “I’ve been better.” Her voice sounded rough and weary to her.

  Sighing, Remy looked down at the floor. There it was again. The sensation that he blamed himself for what happened. He looked up and took hold of her hand. The warmth felt good against her chilled skin. “You’ll get past this. It just takes time.”

  “You say it like you’re speaking from experience.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I am. But you’ve been through this dark place before, after your mère died. You’ll do it again.”

  She frowned and withdrew her hand. “This ain’t like then. I’m not some irrational girl wanting to numb herself from the pain.” She hung her head and burrowed deeper under the blanket.

  “You’ll get through it one day at a time. You’re stronger than you think.”

  Her gaze clashed with his. An ember ignited in her soul. “No, Remy, I’m not strong. I’m weak-minded, weak-willed, and weak-bodied.”

  An odd expression passed over his face. It was too quick for her to analyze. Remy moved as if to stand then relaxed. “Your dad said you’re not going to the NFR.”

  The familiar twinge in her heart returned. She had to get over this. Setbacks happened, they were a part of this business. “There’s always next year.” If she kept telling herself that, maybe she’d believe it.

  “Guess you could look at it that way. But why the change? You can still go.”

  She glanced at her ankle. “Not in this condition. It’s ten grueling days of competition. I’m not sound enough to even race the first night, and S’mores will pick up on it.” She sighed. “I’d rather someone better suited go instead.”

  Rocking back, Remy wiped his hands on his jeans and stared out the window. Cody wished he’d say something, anything to make her mad. She missed the sparring. Missed the fire that flamed between them, whether it was desire or more. She just missed feeling.

  That sense of his need to walk away filled the void between them. Why didn’t he just tell her goodbye? Why linger?

  Cody wouldn’t be able bear to watch him leave. She loved him. And she wouldn’t handle it if he walked away for good. Losing him might finish what Momma’s death started.

  She bit her lip to stop the trembling in her chin. She drew in a breath and released it slowly. No way would she cry in front of him and make him ask why. But she wasn’t about to let him off the hook.

  “So where does this leave us?” she whispered.

  His gaze darted to her and he frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s over. You caught your killer and solved the case that brought us together. Once you walk through the door, is that going to be the last time? You return to your life like I never existed?”

  “Non.” He brushed a coiled strand from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Just because the case is closed doesn’t mean we have to walk away from each other. I’d never forget you. No matter how hard I’d try.”

  She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. “I don’t know if it was a blessing or a curse when I walked into your office.”

  He stood and bent down as she opened her eyes. “We’ll go with a blessing.” He cupped her cheek and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. She shuddered and returned the kiss. Breaking contact, he rubbed her jaw. “I’ve got to go. You’re getting tired again.”

  Cody opened her mouth to protest, but he pressed his thumb against her lips.

  He caressed the side of her mouth with the pad of his thumb. “I’m on medical leave until IA closes the case.” His hand fell away from her face. “You can’t do much, but I bet there’s something we can do together tomorrow.”

  A weak smile drew up the corners of her mouth. “I’m sure.”

  Remy pressed a kiss to her forehead then whispered something in French. Warm tendrils of pleasure sliced through the cold numbness. She might not understand, but the meaning was there. He’d moved past caring into something deeper. Could he love her?

  After parting one last kiss, he headed for the front door. He paused, looked back, and graced her with his cocky grin. She returned his with a broader smile.

  He left. Cody wiggled into the sofa cushions and let her head fall against the armrest.

  Releasing a steady stream of air, she closed her eyes. Whatever their future held, one thing was certain: being with Remy LeBeau was going to make for one wild ride.

  About the Author

  Winter Austin was once asked by her husband if he could meet some of the people who took residence in her head. She warned they weren’t all characters he wanted to meet, as killers walked among them. Needless to say, that conversation ended abruptly.

  A lifelong Mid-West gal, Winter swears she should have been born in
the South, Texas or Louisiana preferably. But then she’d miss the snowy winters.

  Dividing her day between her four children and their various activities, a growing pet population, and her Beta-with-Alpha-tendencies Hero, Winter manages to find time to write chilling romantic suspense novels between loads of laundry.

  Don’t worry. You won’t find any of her mouthwatering culinary dishes poisoned. Unless you’re one of her fictional creations.

  Broken Wings, Soaring Hearts

  Beverly A. Rogers

  Avon, Massachusetts

  This edition published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, Ohio 45242

  www.crimsonromance.com

  Copyright © 2013 by Beverly A. Rogers

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-6978-9

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6978-4

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-6979-7

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6979-1

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © 123rf.com

  This book is dedicated with much love to God, and to my family, Bret, Jon, Lindsey & Hailey. You are the loves of my life and you always make me want to be better. My cup runneth over.

  “Follow God’s example in everything you do just as a much-loved child

  imitates his father.”

  Ephesians 5:1

  Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE