Tangled With A Texan (Texas Cattleman’s Club: Houston Book 8)

by Yvonne Lindsay

  He took her mouth again in a deep, intoxicating kiss, his tongue probing her mouth in time to the pressure of his fingers on her down below. She pressed into him, as if she couldn’t get close enough, and then, in a sudden rush of heat, he felt her climax against his hand.

  It took every ounce of control not to come in his jeans as she shuddered beneath his touch. Instead, he used his caresses to gentle her, as he would one of his horses, with slow sweeps of his hands—drawing out her pleasure, prolonging his own torture. He knew it would take only a moment to unfasten his jeans, sheath himself and drive into her heat right here against the motel room door. But when he made love to her properly—and he knew he would sometime, hopefully very soon—it would be in a large comfortable bed where he could truly explore what they could achieve together.

  Cord straightened her clothing and kissed her again.

  “I’d better go.”

  “Go?”

  For the first time since he’d met her, she sounded unsure.

  “Yeah, I’ll be seeing you soon.”

  With that, he moved her bodily away from the door and opened it. He strode straight to his truck and got immediately inside, no mean feat when he had a hard-on that made his jeans uncomfortably tight as he settled himself into the drive home. He hazarded just one look at the motel room door before he backed out of the parking space. She stood there, holding the front of her shirt together with a bemused expression on her face.

  Good, let her be bemused. While he might be in agony and his balls might be blue, he’d left with the upper hand. Let her think on that for a while.

  * * *

  Zoe rose the next morning still mad. She should never have let him kiss her, let alone touch her like that. And she’d climaxed, right there against the motel room door, she thought, staring balefully at the unassuming slab of wood. She never came like that—so quick, so intense. Even now, thinking about it, she felt a tingle of anticipation all over again. Damn Cord Galicia for being so clever with his hands. And don’t forget his lips and tongue, her subconscious oh-so-helpfully supplied.

  This was hopeless. She needed to get out of here and do something, anything, to replace the memories Cord had instilled in her last night. She wondered how he’d felt as he’d left—whether he’d taken care of himself later once he’d gotten home. Perhaps in the shower, with hot water coursing over his body like a lover’s caress. It was all too easy to picture in her mind and all too distracting, again.

  She strode angrily to the bathroom. It was basic but, like the rest of the motel room, clean and functional. Besides, with how uptight she was feeling right now, there was no way she was going for comfort. Setting the shower to as cold as she could bear, she got under the spray and pulled the curtain across to encapsulate herself in the small space. She lathered up quickly and rinsed off, skimming her body with her hands and determinedly pushing back the memories of another set of hands on her pale skin. Of broad suntanned fingers touching and teasing her body, of those same fingers coaxing responses from her that had left her limp and sated and hungry for more at the same time.

  It angered her that she’d been that easy. She’d come to Royal to further her investigation, not to have meltingly hot sex against a motel room door. And what was with that? Where had all her good sense gone? She’d been the one to drag him across the threshold and into her room. And when he kissed her, she kissed him back, as if she’d been starving for that level of attention. Okay, so maybe that bit was true, she admitted ruefully as she snapped off the shower and reached for her towel. It had been a while, and she’d never been the type to enjoy casual encounters. Her work made maintaining a relationship difficult at the best of times. She worked long hours, dedicated to both her team and to the victims whose stories she had to uncover. And that was what she was here for, she reminded herself sternly as she wiped her still-tingling body dry. Work, not play.

  By the time she was dressed, she realized she was starving. She’d spied a coffee shop when she’d driven into town yesterday. It might be a good place for her to formulate her plan of attack for today. She still needed to get ahold of Jesse Stevens and actually talk to the man. She got into her car and, using the hands-free kit, called the number she had for the Stevens ranch. This time she got a staff member, but she still wasn’t able to speak to Jesse. Frustrated, Zoe drove to the coffee shop.

  She got a parking space right out front and walked up to the café, laughing under her breath at the name, the Daily Grind. Her nostrils were assailed with the delicious aroma of freshly roasted coffee beans the moment she entered. She ordered her coffee and a Danish and took a seat looking out the front window. Royal was a busy place, she realized, as people headed on their daily commute to work and school. The Daily Grind was no less busy as people stopped in for their morning coffee on their way to work, or settled in for a quick breakfast. When her coffee and Danish came, she took her time enjoying the flavors and skimmed the news on her phone. It looked like the Houston papers were still bemoaning the lack of progress in the Hamm murder.

  She knew it wasn’t personal—they had little to go on, but even so it irked her intensely that they hadn’t been able to discover more by now. A heading regarding the Texas Cattleman’s Club caught her eye. It looked like the official opening would be going ahead next month. No doubt that would be a glittering affair with all of Houston’s who’s who of anything important in attendance. She wondered about the guy who’d featured as an early suspect in the Hamm case—Sterling Perry. A leading contender for the presidency of the new club, he was an arrogant piece of work who wore his family’s wealth like a second skin. She would have loved to have seen his ass nailed when her colleagues had arrested him on suspicion of operating a Ponzi scheme, but he’d been cleared of that. Even when he’d been suspected of being involved in Hamm’s murder there’d been nothing to support the initial leads—the guy was like Teflon. Nothing stuck.

  And then there was the other guy vying for the presidential role, Ryder Currin. Younger than Sterling Perry, Currin was far more charismatic and her research had shown he’d come into most of his money through sheer, hard work. Even now, despite his millions, the guy dressed as if he’d just stepped off the ranch. Zoe had wondered if the rivalry between the men had anything to do with Hamm’s murder, but Ryder Currin had an airtight alibi for the window of time when Hamm was murdered. He’d been stranded at a local shelter when the storm hit and Angela Perry, Sterling Perry’s daughter, had been there, too, and had vouched for him.

  Zoe consumed her Danish and knocked back her coffee before leaving a tip and returning to her car. Maybe she’d have better luck tracking Stevens down at the hospital. Cord had told her his sister was there.

  The Royal Memorial Hospital was easy to find, and visitor parking was relatively empty at this early hour. No doubt because visiting hours weren’t until later in the day, she realized. She clipped her badge onto her waistband and went inside, knowing that the badge might give her access she would otherwise not get.

  Sure enough, she was shown through to a ward where Janet Stevens was recovering. The young woman was in a room on her own—apparently having been moved there not long before, after a brief stint in ICU post surgery. That was obviously why Cord had been so protective of his friend, knowing the other man must have been worried about his sibling. Galicia’s protectiveness was, at its heart, an admirable trait, except for the part where he’d attempted to stall her investigation.

  It made her wonder anew if that incident between them last night hadn’t just been a distraction tactic. Something to blur her mind and keep her off Stevens’s trail. Maybe he’d thought the little woman would be so blown away by what he’d done to her that she’d even hightail it back home.

  Zoe discarded the thought almost as quickly as it bloomed in her mind. She’d been the one to pull him into her room, not the other way around. If anything, she was to blame for what had happened between t
hem. And he’d been the one to walk away, unfulfilled. What did that say about the man? She shook her head. He was a conundrum, that was for sure. One she wouldn’t have minded exploring further, if the circumstances had been different. But they weren’t, and she had a job to do.

  Zoe presented her badge to the duty nurse and asked if she could have a few words with Janet Stevens. The nurse was cagey, but after a quick call to Janet’s doctor she said that Zoe was allowed five minutes, no more. Grateful for that, Zoe entered the younger woman’s room.

  Janet Stevens was pale but breathing without assistance. Walking farther into the room, Zoe watched the other woman as she opened her eyes.

  “Good morning, Ms. Stevens. How are you feeling today?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  Janet’s voice was groggy, as if she was still on some heavy-duty pain relief.

  “I won’t take much of your time,” Zoe said quickly and introduced herself, explaining why she was there. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I can’t seem to get ahold of your brother. I need to ask him a few questions.”

  “About Vincent? Whatever for? I know Jesse was mad at him, but he would never have hurt him,” Janet protested.

  “Can you tell me why your brother was mad at Mr. Hamm?” Zoe pressed, feeling a surge of excitement that she might finally be getting closer to finding some of the answers she needed.

  “It’s all my fault,” Janet said weakly. “Jesse asked Vincent if he could return a favor and find me an internship at Perry Holdings. I’ve completed my MBA and Jesse thought Vincent would be decent about helping me. Turns out that while he was happy to accept Jesse’s help plenty of times, he wasn’t so keen to return the favor.”

  Would that have been enough to make Jesse Stevens commit murder? People killed over less. And it depended on the level of help Stevens had extended to Hamm in the past and what he thought the dead man owed him. She needed to meet the man to gauge for herself. A sound at the door had her looking up. Seemed she’d be meeting Jesse Stevens sooner rather than later, judging by the thunderous appearance on the face of the man entering the room.

  “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my sister’s room?” he growled.

  He was tall, blond like the girl in the bed beside her and he had piercing green eyes that looked as if they could cut through steel. His sister lifted a hand.

  “Jesse, please,” she implored gently.

  “Detective Zoe Warren, Houston P.D.,” Zoe said, gesturing to her badge on her waistband. “And you are?”

  Even though she knew exactly who he was, it was important to her to establish who was in control.

  “Jesse Stevens.”

  He answered bluntly, without offering his hand. It seemed she was persona non grata. A tiny smile curled her lips. Good, she liked knowing she’d riled him from the outset. Holding the upper hand was always her chosen starting point.

  “Ah, Mr. Stevens. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. Didn’t you get my messages?”

  A faint flush of color marked his cheeks. “I did.”

  She maintained her silence while raising one brow at him. His flush deepened. Just then, the nurse who’d directed Zoe to Janet’s room appeared in the door and gave Zoe a stern look.

  “Ms. Stevens needs to rest,” she said pointedly.

  “Thank you, I’m just leaving. Mr. Stevens, can I have a word with you outside?” Zoe asked.

  “One minute, that’s all.”

  Well, we’ll see about that, Zoe thought to herself as she preceded him into the hallway outside his sister’s room.

  “Is there somewhere we could speak privately?” Zoe asked the nurse.

  The woman gestured to a small sitting room down the hallway.

  “C’mon,” Zoe said to Stevens. “The sooner we get started, the sooner you can get back to your sister.”

  Realizing he had no reason to object, he fell into step behind her. Once they were in the room, Zoe closed the door behind him.

  “What do you want?” Jesse asked, his voice and stance both belligerent.

  “Just need to ask you a few questions.”

  “Ever heard of email?”

  Zoe snorted lightly. “It’s a strange thing,” she said slowly. “We cops prefer to do things face-to-face. You can learn a lot about a person that way. So, tell me, why have you been avoiding me? Got something to hide?”

  Anger flashed in his eyes for a moment before he visibly dragged himself under control.

  “I have nothing to hide. What’s this about?”

  “Vincent Hamm.” She threw the name into the conversation as if it were a gauntlet thrown in challenge.

  “I knew him. What about it?”

  “Been in touch with him lately?” she probed.

  His gaze grew flat and cold. “Not for a few months. Why?”

  “And when was the last time you spoke with him?”

  “To be honest with you, I haven’t spoken to him in a long time.” Stevens huffed out a breath and rubbed his cheeks with one long-fingered hand.

  Zoe grabbed her notebook out of her jacket pocket and flipped through a few pages before citing a date from a couple of months ago.

  “Does that date sound familiar?”

  “No more than any other date,” Stevens replied.

  “What about this—Thanks for nothing, Hamm. Do you remember saying that?”

  “That’s what this is about? A phone message?”

  “Answer the question, please.”

  “Yeah, I remember saying that.”

  “You sounded pretty pissed off.”

  “Look, it isn’t what you’re thinking.”

  “And what am I thinking, Mr. Stevens?”

  “How the hell would I know? You’re a cop. It’s bound to be bad, right?”

  “Mr. Hamm is dead. I want to know how he came to be that way.”

  Stevens, to his credit, looked stunned. “You think I did it?”

  “I’m not sure what to think right now,” Zoe said honestly. “But you’re not helping your case by being evasive with me. Let me warn you, Mr. Stevens. I am very good at my job, and I will get to the bottom of this.”

  “Look, it wasn’t me. I wasn’t anywhere near Houston when he was killed.”

  “So, you know exactly when he was killed?” she asked pointedly.

  “Of course I don’t. Look, whatever happened to him, I had no part of it. In fact, I was at a stock auction, buying cattle. I’ve even got receipts to prove it.”

  “Perhaps you would like to inform me what part you do have in my investigation during a formal interview to which you can bring those receipts.”

  Stevens rubbed his face again. “Sure, when?”

  “Let me talk to Sheriff Battle. I’ll work something out with him and I’ll be in touch. And this time...?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Answer your damn phone.”

  Five

  Cord’s phone chimed to signal an incoming message. It was from Jesse.

  Met your new girlfriend today.

  Cord tapped the icon that would ring Jesse’s phone. Texting was all well and good but sometimes you just needed to talk. This was definitely one of those times. His friend answered on the second ring.

  “Is Janet doing okay now?” Cord asked.

  No matter how mad he was right now, certain things needed to be taken care of first.

  “Yeah, surprisingly well, considering how sick she was straight after surgery. They moved her onto the ward this morning before I got there. Gave me a heart attack to get up to ICU and find she wasn’t there.”

  “I bet.”

  After Jesse and Janet’s parents died, the two of them became even closer, since all they had left was each other. Cord could only imagine how Jesse must have felt to find Janet missing from the
room where she’d been taken after surgery.

  “I was surprised to see your girlfriend had beaten me there, though.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he enunciated carefully.

  Even so, he knew exactly who Jesse was talking about, and the slow burn of fury rose from deep within. She hadn’t listened to a word he’d said. Not only had she not stayed away from Jesse, she’d gone to the hospital and bothered Janet while she was at it. He rode the wave of anger for a few long seconds. Jesse was talking, but the buzz in Cord’s ears made him sound like he was some distance away. Eventually Jesse’s words sank in.

  “She’s a mighty fine-looking woman, even if she is a pain in the ass. Had some questions for me and wouldn’t leave until she’d asked them.”

  “She questioned you? There at the hospital?”

  She had nerve, he’d give her that.

  “Yup, and I’ve agreed to an interview at the sheriff’s office, too.”

  “You don’t need to do that.” Cord bristled. “And if you do, make sure you take your lawyer.”

  “I don’t need my lawyer, Cord. No matter how much I wanted to wring the guy’s neck, I did not kill Vincent Hamm.”

  “I know you didn’t. Aside from the fact you’re not that kind of guy, weren’t you away around that time?”

  Jesse made a sound of assent. “I’ve got nothing to hide, and the sooner your girlfriend realizes that, the better.”

  “Like I said, she’s not my girlfriend.”

  Jesse chuckled. “But there’s something going on, isn’t there?”

  The man was too damn astute. Yeah, there was something, but even he couldn’t define the way Zoe Warren had crawled under his skin.

  “She’s a cop. Trust me, there’s nothing going on,” Cord said firmly.

  “If you say so.”

  Their conversation drifted to ranching matters, and they eventually finished their call. Cord pocketed his phone and felt tension coil within his body. He wanted nothing more right now than to take his horse to the open pastures and go for a blistering ride. Anything to expend this pent-up energy that resided in a red-hot knot in the center of his gut.