The Ranger

by Angi Morgan

  “I don’t.” He looked the sheriff straight in the eyes. The urge to tell him he was one of the good guys was on the edge of his tongue. But he couldn’t. Especially now. Keeping his cover was the only way to help Toby.

  A craving to wring Rey King’s neck overtook his thinking on the short ride to the house. He had no doubts that the wannabe mobster was behind the abduction.

  “Can’t help notice that you aren’t curious about what happened, Striker.” The sheriff put the car in Park and twisted in his seat, facing Mitch. “That might make me a bit suspicious.”

  “I was locked up in your jail. Might not have happened if I hadn’t been.”

  “I figure you’d more than likely be dead before you let Toby be carried off.” Pete scratched his chin with his thumb. “See, I have a feeling that Brandie’s mixed up in something. We’ve had our fair share of excitement around here recently, but I’d have to be blind not to see that she’s had more than the normal citizen.”

  “Meaning?” Mitch pressed his mouth shut tighter than before to keep his occupation a secret.

  The house was surrounded with county vehicles. Deputies, the Quinns and neighbors were standing in the yard.

  “She asked for you because she thinks you can help. You should convince her that I can help, too. I want to call in the Texas Rangers or the FBI.”

  He’d already decided to convince Brandie to use anyone who could help get her son back. His undercover position would be an asset, but they needed more eyes, more people searching for Toby. “What does she want?”

  Pete shook his head. “I gather Brandie knows more about this situation than she’s willing to tell. Brandie insisted you were the only person who could help her and magically bail is posted.” Pete looked as angry as Mitch felt.

  Brandie pushed open the screen door. Her body physically relaxed a little when their eyes met. He could see the reaction across the yard along with a swollen cheek where she’d been hit.

  He wanted to shout who was to blame to every cop in the yard. To Brandie’s father. To the town. They’d speed down the highway, find Rey King, get Toby back and the kidnapper would pay. He’d hurt. A lot.

  They needed a case against him to put him away for good. Not just a trip to the hospital.

  “I know you want explanations from me before we walk inside, but you won’t get them.” Brandie’s eyes pleaded with him to remain silent. “It’s not my story to tell.”

  “But you’re admitting there is a story.” Pete used a couple of four-letter words before he shoved open the Tahoe’s door and stomped to the porch, waving off every question thrown his direction. “I need the family inside.”

  It was a hard call to make. Protect Brandie’s right as a mother versus the need for the extra man power to find her son. Pete wasn’t a dumb man. He knew something was going on and he’d figure it out sooner or later. He’d be more helpful and cooperative if Cord told him there was an undercover Ranger working in his town.

  Revealing that was Cord’s call. Mitch had already been reprimanded for telling Brandie. The family went into the living room.

  “What are you doing to find my grandson?” Bud demanded from Pete, ignoring that Mitch slipped inside behind him to stand by Brandie.

  “We’ve issued a statewide Amber Alert. To be honest, I wish you’d reconsider calling in the FBI. We don’t have a lot of experience with kidnapping cases in Presidio County. We also have no idea what we’re dealing with or why.”

  He and Brandie both knew who had her son. They both knew why. He needed to get her away from everyone so she could tell him the details.

  “What do you mean reconsider the FBI? They haven’t been called? What have you been doing for the past two hours? They could be across the blasted border with my grandson by now.” Bud yelled at everyone, aiming his anger at Pete who was man enough to take it. Then he marched across the room finger pointing at his wife. “Did you know about this? How the hell are we supposed to find Toby if we don’t know—”

  The older man stopped himself, something clicking in his head. Mitch could see the gears turning and shoving information together. Bud looked over his shoulder and his eyes locked onto Mitch. The fright was masked with a desire to blame someone.

  “Is this your fault?” the frantic man asked.

  Brandie’s hand swung out and caught Mitch’s. He’d taken a step forward without realizing it. Pete came across the room to intercept him. He’d never felt the urge to defend himself from such an accusation before. People could normally call him every name in the book and he was able to ignore it. But Bud’s question had insulted him like nothing he’d experienced.

  Mitch drew a deep breath to calm down. Somebody needed to talk Bud into doing the same. But nobody else seemed willing.

  So Mitch would. “I don’t believe anyone here is responsible. We should let the sheriff explain what’s being done and what they need from us.”

  The veins in Bud’s neck might burst if they didn’t get him calmed down. Six months working in the garage and he’d never lost his temper like this. And yet, no one in the room seemed very surprised.

  Time for Mitch to keep his mouth shut and return to his role as the silent type staying on the edge of conversations, listening but not participating. He released Brandie’s hand, crossed his arms and tried to look relaxed before he looked at the angel at his elbow.

  Her eyes beseeched him. For help? For restraint? For...? She simply took his breath away and all thoughts along with it.

  Brandie’s mother cried softly into a handful of tissue. The conversation continued in the background between Pete and Bud. The only person who could change its direction was Brandie. She was exhausted and probably terrified. And unfortunately, she was as silent as him.

  Mitch was getting lost in the blue of her eyes, trying to comfort her without a word when he heard his name pretty much taken in vain again.

  “I still don’t know what good you think this bum is going to do,” Bud criticized, looking at Brandie. “You let him into your bed and he becomes the all-important person in your life.”

  “That’s enough.” Mitch’s fingers balled into fists. He was conscious of the tense muscles in his arms. More aware that he was ready to take someone’s head off as much as Bud. But he couldn’t let anyone hurt Brandie more than she’d already been today. One look and a stranger would know she was a tear away from her breaking point.

  “You ready to leave?” he asked her. Well, sort of asked her, since it came off more as We’re leaving whether you like it or not. She nodded, then he turned to Pete. “Got a car to take us back to the garage? I don’t think it’s a good idea to walk.”

  “I’ll do it myself.”

  “Good. We’ll wait outside.” He extended his hand and Brandie took it. Her parents watched, both silent until the door closed again and Bud continued his tirade. Harsh words. Mitch quickly got Brandie out of earshot.

  “He doesn’t mean anything. He’s just upset and needs to do something.” She tried to justify.

  “I disagree with his methods. I’m also keeping my mouth shut. So should you until we know we’re alone.”

  She waited on the Tahoe’s backseat, looking older than she should with her thick hair pulled in a ponytail. The tiny studs in her ears were brightly colored rainbows. The earrings seemed at odds with their situation, but perfect for Brandie on a normal day.

  She twisted the fake wedding ring on her slim finger instead of knotting the edge of her frilly shirt. It didn’t make sense to wear a shirt like that to cook and serve customers at the café, but she liked them. She must since that’s almost all she wore. That was it. It was the dang shirts that made her look older than twenty-four.

  Personally, he enjoyed seeing her in funny T-shirts and faded torn jeans—even her cartoon pajamas. He also liked the glittery blue polish on her toenails that were currently covered by practical tennis shoes.

  He’d never given much thought to what a woman wore. A distraction from Toby’s k
idnapping? Maybe. Or a concentrated effort to keep from jumping in a car and heading for his kidnapper. If King’s people hurt him, if he were traumatized in any way... Mitch wasn’t normally a violent man. But the anger surged through him again. He felt his insides shake with the rage.

  The emotional swell took him by surprise. Maybe Toby wasn’t the only one with a crush. Cord had mentioned how the five-year-old was used to Mitch being a part of his life. Maybe it worked both ways. Maybe Mitch was used to the kid and Brandie being in his life, too.

  “Nothing’s going to happen to Toby. I promise you.”

  “You can’t keep that promise, Mitch.” The full pools in her eyes overflowed down her cheeks as she tilted her face toward his.

  The bruising had begun. She needed ice to keep the swelling down. Someone had hit her. Didn’t matter who, he’d make them pay at some point. He gently stroked her jawbone with his fingertip.

  “Then I’ll make one I can keep. I swear if he’s hurt, the person responsible won’t live to regret it.”

  Before she could object—which he assumed she would do by the O shape of her lips—the sheriff gestured for him to get in the truck.

  * * *

  PETE DROPPED THEM at the garage side door, but not before asking them again if they were ready to share their secret. Brandie kept her face turned away and stayed silent, fingers crossed that Mitch would do the same.

  Pete told them that two deputies would stay at her house waiting for a call that wouldn’t come from the kidnappers. The phone from the café had been forwarded there, as well. They were finished dusting for prints and searching inside.

  Maybe this was so hard on Mitch because he had sworn to uphold the law. A big part of her was grateful he had to keep secrets for a living. There was no one else she could turn to. If he was unwilling to help, she would be lost.

  “Pete knows, doesn’t he?” she said, but Mitch had stepped back into the garage. He hadn’t heard her, but she already knew the answer. The sheriff might not know specifics, but he knew she was mixed up in something horrible.

  He’d be watching as much as Rey’s men.

  With shaking hands, Brandie added coffee to the filter and cleared the broken glass from the pots. She found the extra carafe stashed deep on a shelf under the counter, rinsing, drying, then turning it on.

  Black and blacker. That was the way Mitch liked his coffee. She didn’t mind making him a cup while he inventoried his personal possessions.

  Looking around the café depressed her. It wasn’t just the overwhelming cleanup challenge that they faced. Its topsy-turvy shape represented her business and emotions...everything was so overwhelming.

  Toby was gone. She’d put him in danger by being defiant to Rey. She dropped her face in her hands and cried. It was all her fault. If they didn’t find Toby, no one else could be blamed. The decision was solely hers and it was too late to change her mind.

  She had to pull herself back together. Fake composure. She heard Mitch’s footsteps. “What doesn’t kill ya makes you stronger. Right?”

  Mitch’s strong palm rubbed her back, patting it a couple of times like a guy completely uncomfortable with a crying female. But even in a pat, his strength was there, penetrating through the blouse she hated.

  “What have I done? He’s just five years old. He has to be scared and wondering where I am. Oh, God. They might have told him I was dead or don’t want him. What if they hurt him? What if you can’t find him, Mitch?”

  “I assume you have a message from King,” he finally said, completely ignoring all her doubtful thoughts. There was no accusation in his voice or touch, just comfort. “Are you sure you don’t want to bring in outside help?”

  “You are my help. Rey thinks you’re just a mechanic. He might believe you’re still in jail. Won’t that help us get Toby back?”

  He pulled a stool over for her to sit down.

  “You know you don’t have to rely just on me. One phone call and the Texas Rangers will be searching for Toby. Are you worried about your past coming out?”

  “No. Nothing matters except Toby. Rey said he’s watching, that he’ll know if I do anything except bring him the stupid package.” Should she tell him that the package was cocaine? Would he still help her?

  “Did he tell you what’s in this package or how big it is?” Mitch took a clean bar towel, filled it with ice and held it to her jaw.

  “Wow, that really hurts.”

  “I’m guessing you haven’t seen it yet?” Mitch’s eyes darted to the side of her face. “It should hurt awhile.”

  “No.”

  “You need to tell me the whole story.”

  Her body was stiff and sore from falling to the floor when Rey had hit her. But the thought of telling Mitch everything had her squirming on her stool. She’d shared much more than she was comfortable with already.

  “I told you—”

  “Start with what’s in the package. I can guess the rest.” He removed the ice and gingerly drew his knuckle along her cheek.

  “Is it really bad?”

  He grimaced and didn’t need to answer. She took the ice pack and hoped it would help keep the swelling to a minimum.

  “At least you don’t need a straw. They could have broken your jaw. Want coffee or a milk shake? The freezer’s messy, but they at least closed the door.”

  “Thank goodness. Coffee please. I made it strong so—”

  “I know. You want it half with creamer.” He shook the powdered mixture they used on the tables into a half-filled cup. He measured a spoonful of real sugar and then stirred.

  Brandie realized it wasn’t the first time he’d prepared her coffee. And it hit her that she hoped it wouldn’t be the last. She wanted him to stick around—undercover Texas Ranger or true blue-collar mechanic. She liked Mitch. Period.

  So why was she hesitating telling him the truth? Because she was afraid his secret profession would have to make the call to the authorities that they were looking for thirty-five bricks of cocaine. She didn’t even know how much that meant.

  If they found it—and they had no choice but to find it—he’d know what it was. She’d still be faced with convincing him to turn it over to Rey no questions asked.

  “Stop debating with yourself and spill it. I’ve given you my word that I’d help. Before you think about how to ask...just ask me.”

  “What?”

  “You want to know if I’m calling Cord if I find something illegal.” He arched his eyebrows, asking the question with his face.

  “Will you?”

  “My first priority is to get Toby back. Second is to get the both of you to safety.” He held up his hand. “Don’t argue. Admit you’re in danger. That’s the deal. I find Toby and you both leave.”

  She hated to leave everything, but they’d have to. They just wouldn’t be safe here anymore. She’d seen what happened to families that ticked off the Mexican cartel. Cord and Kate McCrea had lost their unborn child and nearly lost their lives. The illegal activity was higher now, putting more people at risk.

  “You’re right,” she reluctantly admitted, dropping the cold pack to the counter. But what Mitch didn’t know was that she and Toby had nowhere to run.

  “After I see to both of those, then I’ll settle the score with King.” Mitch barely touched her chin, taking another look at her bruise. “You hungry? How ’bout a grilled cheese and then we get started looking for that package.”

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll get the stovetop cleaned up if you get the cheese from the walk-in.”

  Mitch led the way as she fought more tears. It had been a long time since anyone was so completely on her side. She swiped at the wetness trickling down her face before turning on the flattop. Nothing happened. “Great. I need to flip the breaker.”

  “I can get it. Stay there.”

  She cleared a work area, wiped off the cast iron and found the bread.

  “Brandie!” Mitch called.

  She ran to the back of the garage
where the breaker box was located. Mitch stood in front of the shelf, staring at the wall, rubbing the back of his neck. Brandie picked her way through the old boxes of car parts that had been brushed off the shelves.

  “All the breakers are marked. So what’s the problem?”

  “Do you know what this box is for?” He pointed to one that had been hidden behind the car parts. “It’s disconnected.”

  “It must be to the old pit bay. Dad sealed that up years ago when he bought the lift that you use now.” She’d been eleven or twelve. Her mom ran the café and her dad ran the garage. They couldn’t afford sitters—she’d insisted she was too old for them anyway. So she’d sat in the corner booth finishing homework, listening to the jukebox and overhearing all the town gossip.

  “Makes sense to disconnect it. But this is newer wiring than the rest. It looks like it’s been used recently. Maybe just before I arrived?”

  “You mean Glen tried to repair something. That would be unusual for him. He hardly did anything without Dad’s instructions.”

  “Maybe he didn’t want your dad to know.”

  “You mean, you think he’s hiding something down there. But why wouldn’t he come back to get it?” She sank to a stack of tires as the realization hit her. Glen couldn’t come back. “He’s dead. Rey killed him. That’s how he knows his drugs are still here at the garage. You knew. That’s why you came to work here and have been tricking me.”

  Mitch searched through strewn tools. She stared at him as he found and connected a power drill, then began unscrewing the metal plating that covered the pit bay.

  “Yes, he was murdered. Yes, his death presented an opportunity for me to observe. I didn’t want to trick you. I hope you believe me.”

  Brandie was stunned. “There’s too much to take in. Toby has been kidnapped and is being held for the ransom of thirty-five cocaine bricks that my murdered former mechanic hid in my father’s garage. Oh, and let’s not forget that the mechanic I could have very much become involved with—and who I’ve admired tremendously—has been lying to me for six months. Because he’s one of the good guys, an actual-to-goodness Texas Ranger playing undercover and sleeping on my couch.”