by Terri Reed
Taking the table by the edge of the shale-floored space, she sat and enjoyed the view. The colorful table umbrella provided shade from the morning sun. Sunlight, filtered through the lush greenery and full trees along the walking path located parallel to the river, dappled the water.
If it were later in the day, crowded flat-bottom boats would float past, their occupants avidly enthralled by cruise narrators as they relayed the history of the Riverwalk.
Ben sat down opposite her. “I don’t like this. You take too many chances with your safety.”
“I don’t mean to make your job harder, but I meant what I said. I’m not going to cower in a corner. My father wouldn’t have. And neither would you.”
“But that’s different.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Because I’m a woman?”
He pressed his lips together and didn’t answer. Smart man.
They ordered and soon their meal was before them. The soothing setting made the tension in Corinna’s shoulders lessen as she sat back and sipped orange juice from a tall glass. She’d finished her crepe with gusto. Ben had been right, this café made a great crepe. She could get used to spending time with Ben like this, enjoying his company. Though she would have liked for him to relax a bit. His attentive gaze took everything in, looking for some threat.
“This is nice,” she said, content to just sit and unwind.
“Thank you for thinking of it.”
Ben’s big, strong hands wrapped around his coffee mug. “You’re welcome. I know these past few days have been difficult.”
She looked away toward the arched stone bridge spanning the river. Her mood crashed down, dispelling the contentment of moments before. “Difficult.”
Would she ever be able to move on? Would Ben? She ached to think they would always have this bond of grief between them. Regret for losing the short-lived sense of happiness and peace cascaded through her. She sighed. “Yeah, difficult is an understatement.”
Ben reached across the table to cover one of her hands. His strong fingers wrapped around hers—the contact at once pleasing yet painful. He was her last connection to her dad.
So much had happened the past few days. Her view of Ben had shifted. She was finding it harder with each passing moment to hold on to the old resentment and anger. Compassion and affection were rapidly healing the wounds of her youth.
And now she wasn’t sure what to think or how to deal with her changing feelings for Ben. She’d always had strong feelings for him, these were just different. She liked him, really liked him. But what did that mean for the future? Did she want it to mean anything?
She honestly didn’t know.
“What did you mean when you said dancing wasn’t your dream, but your mother’s?” Ben asked.
She nearly groaned. She’d hoped he’d forgotten she’d let her secret slip. How could she explain? “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Is it true, though? If dancing wasn’t your dream then why have you devoted your life to it and worked so hard at it?”
Raw emotions scraped at her nerves. Grief, guilt, a touch of anger all neatly forged together to make a sharp knife of regret. “You know that my mother was once a prima ballerina, right?”
“Yes, Greg told me.”
“She danced all over the country, until she came here to San Antonio and met my father. She left the stage to raise me.” Corinna bit her bottom lip. “I wasn’t exactly the daughter she’d hoped for.”
Ben’s eyebrows drew together. “How can that be true? She’d be proud of you.”
Corinna gave a small humorless laugh. “You don’t understand. From the very first I was a tomboy. I wanted to be like my father.”
Clearly surprised, Ben stared at her. “You’re kidding. I had no idea.”
She shrugged. “Why would you?” She shook her head, thinking back to those early days of childhood. “I was such a terror. Mom tried so hard to turn me into a little ballerina. Dance classes galore, recitals and girly dresses. All I wanted was to be like my dad. I didn’t understand why I couldn’t wear a badge and fake holster with a pop gun to dance class.”
That made Ben smile. “I can see it now.” He held up his hand like he were reading a marquee. “Corinna, the Dancing Ranger.”
She held his gaze and managed a small laugh through the tightness constricting her throat. Dishes crashed nearby. A clumsy waiter clearing a table. Ben tensed as his gaze sought any possible danger. He returned his gaze to her.
The humor died away. Tension knotted her shoulders. “But then she got sick. Breast cancer. Stage four by the time it was discovered.”
Sympathy etched lines in his handsome face.
She dropped her gaze to the table as the memories haunted her. Ben’s gentle squeeze to her hand gave her the impetus to go on. Taking a bracing breath, she said, “I didn’t understand at first why she was so tired all the time. Why she kept going to the doctors. Why she and Dad seemed so sad. Why she cried so often. I got scared, started acting out—getting into fights, talking back to the teachers at school.”
Shame built in her chest. “I was eleven and no one was talking to me. Finally, Dad lost his temper and yelled at me to stop making things so hard for my mother. Why couldn’t I just behave and do as she asked?” She met Ben’s compassionate gaze. “That was the only time I ever saw him lose his temper.”
“I’m sure he was hurting.”
She nodded. “Not long after that my mom told me she was dying.” Tears sprang to the surface. She fought them back. “I still remember the smell of her perfume, the feel of her petal-soft skin as she held me while I cried. I begged and pleaded with her not to die.” A horrible sound escaped her closing throat. “Like she had a choice.”
“I’m sure she understood. You were young.”
“Young and selfish.”
“Corinna—”
“Don’t.” She couldn’t tolerate platitudes. “You asked me why I dance. It’s because her last words to me were ‘Dance for me, baby. Be my ballerina.’”
He nodded in understanding. “So that’s what you did.”
She wiped at a stray tear and blinked several times. “Yes. That’s what I did. Dancing became my refuge. When I dance nothing else exists.” She gave a self-effacing laugh. “But I still wanted to be like my father.”
Ben leaned forward, his expression earnest. “And you are. You have all of his good qualities.” A teasing light entered his hazel eyes. “And a few of his not so good.”
Arching an eyebrow, she said, “Not so good?”
“Stubborn, focused, perfectionist.” The corner of his mouth tipped up in a teasing grin. “Ring any bells?”
She made a face at him. “I think I’d rather hear about the good qualities.”
His eyes twinkled. “Give me a second to come up with those.”
“Hey!” She looked at him through her lowered lashes. He was something special, this man who made her laugh, who made her want to move forward with her life.
He sobered. “Seriously, you are a lot like your father. Kind, generous, loyal.”
Her cheeks flamed at the complimentary words. “So are you.” She kept her tone light to regain the peace and serenity that had started off the day.
He tilted his head. “Is that a good thing or not?”
“It’s good.” She surprised herself at how true those words were and even more surprised by the pride she felt for Ben. He’d come from such a hard beginning and had become a man worth admiring. She admired him in a way she’d never felt before. And that was very appealing.
“Your approval means a lot.” His expression turned pensive. “I’m sorry you felt left out of your father’s life. If I had known…” he trailed off.
She waved away his needless guilt. “I doubt your knowing would have changed my behavior.”
“Maybe not. But maybe I would have tried to draw you out more. Or at least tried to understand.”
“All water under the bridge now.”
; “Having your father take an interest in me saved my life.”
Curiosity made her want to know more. “How so?”
“I was headed down a destructive road that would have ended badly. I owe your father so much.”
The reminder of why he was taking such a personal interest in her tasted bittersweet. He owed her father. She was just a job even if at times it seemed like so much more.
Resigned to the boundaries of their relationship, she said, “It’s getting late. I need to head to the studio. We’ve only a couple more days of rehearsal left until the charity fund-raiser.”
Ben stood and laid several bills on the table. Corinna rose and tried to squelch the growing affection blossoming in her heart, but she had the feeling that would be like telling the sun to stop shining.
She put her hand into his outstretched one and stepped forward just as a loud crack of a gun split the air. Corinna felt a puff of hot air pass by her as the bullet barely missed her head.
Birds squawked, people screamed as they hit the deck and Ben jerked her to the ground. Corinna’s gaze swung toward the walkway, searching for the shooter.
Another shot rang out. Bits of shale from the patio floor burst near Corinna’s leg. Sharp fragments stung her flesh.
“Come on,” Ben barked. “We have to get out of here. Stay down!”
In a crouch, he led Corinna away from the restaurant toward the staircase that would take them to the street level. They crossed against traffic and ran to the parking garage.
Corinna threw a glance over her shoulder. There didn’t seem to be anyone following them. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest as she slid into the passenger seat of Ben’s Jeep.
Ben started the engine, threw the gear into drive and squealed out of the parking lot. With quick efficiency, he called the shooting in.
“That was too close,” he said after hanging up the phone. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel.
Ben had saved her life again. Though she doubted he’d see it that way. He’d say God had had a hand in this. Well, if that were true, then God must be very proud of Ben, because he was a true hero.
If she weren’t careful, she’d find herself falling in love with Ben. And that was a scary thought on so many levels.
Once Ben was driving through the downtown traffic, the rush of adrenaline abated. He’d phoned in the shooting, though figured the sniper was long gone. CSU would find the spent bullets. He hoped they matched the bullets that killed Greg. Then they’d know for sure if they were after the same man.
Feeling calmer, but still on the alert, Ben cracked the window to let in some air. The day was turning into a South Texas scorcher. The temperature gauge on the dashboard read just past eighty degrees and rising.
He stole a glance at Corinna. Though pale and obviously shaken, she was holding up beautifully.
He’d never had as much trouble keeping a witness safe before. Corinna was certainly trouble with a capital T.
Hearing her story touched him deeply. She was more complicated and stronger than he’d ever imagined. And he found himself drawn to her with each passing moment. He admired that she hadn’t panicked when the shots rang out. She was more like her father than she even knew.
Glancing in the rearview mirror as he wove through the morning commuters, he noticed a white four-door sedan trailing behind them. He couldn’t make out the driver’s face. Only the driver’s mouth, set in a grim line, was visible beneath the car’s sun visor and the driver’s baseball cap. Could it be the shooter?
Just to be sure he wasn’t letting paranoia get to him, Ben made a sharp right-hand turn on screeching tires down an alley.
“Hey!” Corinna clung to the hand hold over the passenger door.
“We’re being followed,” Ben said as the white sedan made the same turn.
Corinna whipped around to look out the back window. Ben slowed as they approached a busy intersection. He tried to judge the timing of the passing cars in hopes of crossing the traffic without getting slammed by oncoming traffic. He started to pull into the intersection.
The horn from a city bus blared from the left.
Ben hit the brakes. “Hang on!”
The white car smashed into the back end of the Jeep.
Corinna screamed.
The squeal of tires accelerating on pavement coming from the white vehicle sent a shudder through Ben as the sedan pushed the Jeep into the path of the oncoming bus. He braced himself for impact. The bus swerved, clipping the front end of the Jeep, sending them spinning into oncoming traffic. Ben’s head bounced off the side window and pain exploded inside his head.
A big green SUV rammed into the rear passenger side, smoke billowing from the antilock brakes as the driver tried to stop his forward progress.
The strap of the seat belt dug across Ben’s chest. The explosion of metal clashing with metal from surrounding cars colliding echoed in Ben’s ears. The Jeep came to a vibrating halt.
Ben gave his head a shake to clear his vision and his rattled brain. Horror rushed in. Corinna!
She was slumped over with her eyes closed, the seat belt keeping her upright. Blood from a cut to her head bled. He quickly checked her pulse. Thready. He undid his seat belt and moved to ease her back against the seat. She moaned.
He breathed a sigh of relief that she was coming around.
“Thank you, Lord, for helping me keep her alive. I couldn’t do this without You.”
He looked out the smashed back window. The white sedan was gone.
The wail of a siren meant help was on the way.
“Hang on, Corinna,” he said as he stroked back a loose lock of hair. A deep, tender aching welled in his chest, unfamiliar, yet somehow right. He wasn’t sure what to make of his growing attachment to Corinna. And now was not the time to try to figure it out.
A police cruiser arrived on the scene and began directing traffic as more police drove up. Moments later an ambulance pulled to a stop and two paramedics jumped out.
He climbed out of the vehicle as the paramedics reached the Jeep. “I’m fine, but she’s hurt.”
The bus listed to the right. Bent metal and broken glass littered the road. The street looked like a destruction derby.
One of the paramedics went to the Jeep’s passenger side. The other stayed with Ben. “Sir, I think you should sit. You’ve a nasty bruise on your head.”
Ben waved him away. He needed to talk with the police officer. “It’s just a bump.” Ben started forward but the paramedic grabbed him by the arm.
“Sir, you could have a concussion. Let me check you out.”
“After I talk with the officer,” Ben said and yanked his arm free. He rushed to one of the SAPD officers and identified himself. “Hey, I need you to put out a BOLO on a white, four-door sedan.” He rattled off the make and model as the officer wrote on a notepad. Hopefully the “Be on the look out” order would help them track down the car. “I got a partial of the license.” The officer wrote the numbers down as Ben said them.
“I’ll get this to dispatch,” the officer said, then narrowed his gaze. “Ranger Fritz, you don’t look so good.”
As the charge of adrenaline began to wane, Ben realized how badly his head throbbed. His nose wasn’t doing so hot, either. The world tilted as a wave of dizziness washed through him. He needed to check on Corinna. “I’m okay,” he muttered.
Pushing through his own discomfort, he made his way back to her. The paramedics had moved her to a gurney and were wheeling her toward the waiting ambulance.
Ben’s heart squeezed tight with dread and self-recriminations. She’d been hurt badly enough to warrant a trip to the hospital. This was his fault.
As he reached her side, she held out a hand for him.
“I’m okay, just a little cut. But they won’t listen,” she said.
She didn’t look okay. A bandage covered the gash on her head. “I’ll come with you.”
She squeezed his hand. The paramedics lift
ed the gurney into the empty bay, and Ben climbed in beside her and took her hand. Tenderness expanded in his chest. What would he do if anything happened to her? The mere thought sent his stomach plummeting. He kissed her knuckles. “I’m so sorry.”
“This wasn’t your fault. That maniac in the car did this.”
“I should have been paying better attention. I shouldn’t have turned down that alley. I shouldn’t have let us sit outside for breakfast.”
Her expression turned contrite. “Stop beating yourself up. I should have listened to you. Again.”
“Yes, you should have,” he agreed gently.
“But we’re alive and safe. That’s all that matters.”
Taking in a deep breath to calm his nerves, he slowly let it out. “You’re right.” He kissed her knuckles.
A blush brightened her cheeks and a pleased smile spread across her face. The impulse to fold her into his arms and kiss her gripped him. He had to shift his focus away from her lovely face. The last thing she needed was him confusing the situation with attraction.
At the hospital, they were both checked out by the ER doctor. After he declared that neither had a concussion or suffered serious harm they were released. Since Ben’s Jeep was out of commission, he called for Anderson to come pick them up and take them to the Ranger’s headquarters. Ben kept an alert eye out for any threats as they made their trek across town.
Cade met them at the door. His usually calm demeanor had an edge of anticipation. “We got a hit on that partial license number. The sedan was reported stolen last night.”
“Figures,” Ben said as he ushered Corinna to his office. “Check with SAPD, see if the BOLO has come up with anything.”
“Sure thing,” Cade said and veered off to make the calls.
Corinna took a seat facing the desk. Her hands shook. She clasped them together and stared at the decorated walls. Sadness welled in her eyes. “I should box up my father’s things.”
Hit with sorrow at the suggestion, Ben’s gaze drifted over the framed certificates and photos of the Pike family. Having Greg’s things around gave Ben a sense of peace. “There’s no hurry.”
