Justice for a Ranger
The reason she was here hit him like a fist in his gut. She had come for the same reason he had.
Because of the Wallace homicide investigation.
And if he guessed right, her parents were probably suspects in this new murder as well as the first one.
JOEY STRUGGLED TO STEADY her breathing. Her adrenaline was still racing from the confrontation with Dennison and then nearly getting mowed down in the street. And the sight of this biker dude…wow.
All that black leather, dark black scraggly hair down to his shoulders, scruffy bearded face, sweat beading on his forehead gave him a threatening look.
But not in a way that said he might physically hurt her. In a way that screamed raw, primal sexuality. Like a man who’d just returned from a long, heated battle against a beast in the wilderness, a battle he’d no doubt won.
As he would win over any woman he met. All it took was one look into those enigmatic, brooding eyes and the sound of that husky deep voice, and she’d forgotten the fact that he’d nearly killed her.
The moron.
Then again, on closer inspection, his eyes did hold a level of intelligence. Street-smart, not all book-bred. This guy had been around and knew the ropes.
And heaven help her, that incredibly fit body conjured wicked fantasies. He had wide broad shoulders. Pecs to die for. Muscular thighs that could pin a woman beneath him while he tortured her with his tongue.
He gestured toward the bartender, and she took advantage of the moment to assess him in more detail. Even his hands were large, broad. His blunt, strong fingers were sprinkled with dark hair that made her wonder what they would feel like on her. Touching her. Stroking her sensitive skin.
A jagged scar jutted out from the neckline of his black T-shirt, and she imagined the rest of his body beneath. A chest sprinkled with the same dark hair, another scar maybe. And a tattoo or two hidden somewhere on his bronzed skin.
What was she doing? He wasn’t her type. She liked sophisticated, educated men. Men with jobs. Men who shaved and bathed regularly.
“What’ll you have, sugar?” he drawled.
You. She gaped at his mouth, then realized that she was acting like a fool. And Joey Hendricks, professional investigator for the governor, was not a fool. Never had been. Not over a man.
She’d taken notes from her parents’ disastrous divorce and her father’s infidelities, and decided relationships just weren’t worth the trouble. Although a one-nighter, especially with a hunk like this guy, might be fun. A stress release. Maybe even mind-altering. Certainly hotter than any night she’d experienced in years.
Then she remembered her reason for coming to Justice and vetoed the idea.
The drink would have to suffice. “A shot of tequila.”
He arched a thick brow, and she raised her own in challenge. “What? You don’t think I can handle it?”
“Honey, I think you can handle anything that comes your way.”
With one flick of his hand, he waved the waitress over—a twentysomething girl who turned eyes of adoration toward him—then ordered Joey a shot and a Stella for himself.
He would order a beer with a woman’s name. “You don’t like tequila?” she asked.
He leaned back against the booth edge, stretched his long legs out so one of them brushed hers beneath the table. “On the contrary. José and I have been best friends for years.”
She couldn’t help herself. She grinned at his statement. He looked like a tequila-drinking hellion straight from a biker’s fest. She imagined him stuffing dollars into the bras of women as they bared their chests for him, and her senses hummed with awareness.
What was wrong with her?
For all she knew he might be a freeloader who had women in ten different cities, and kids to go with each one. Kids he’d never claimed.
Or he could be a criminal.
He turned his dark eyes on her just as the waitress delivered their drinks.
“Thanks.” He grabbed the beer and moved the shot in front of Joey.
The girl stood beside him for a moment as if waiting for him to address her again. Annoyed when he didn’t pay her more attention, she gave Joey a decidedly unfriendly stare as if they were schoolkids fighting over the only boy in town.
Pickings must be slim in Justice. She should warn the waitress to steer clear of men like him—untrustworthy men in titillating packages that screamed with sex appeal—then decided to heed the warning herself.
She didn’t intend to be in Justice long. Then again, she’d have to stay until this case was solved.
And deal with her parents…
What if one of them was arrested? What if they were guilty?
Her lungs tightened at the thought, and she sprinkled salt on her hand, licked it, tossed down the shot, sucked the lime, then dropped the shot glass onto the table with a smile. As she swiped her hand across her mouth, an intense, hungry look flared in his deep-set eyes.
“You want another one, Joey?”
Her breath caught. How did he know her name?
The newscast…he must have seen it.
“In a minute. But I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.” She straightened, reminding herself that her image counted. Especially if she intended to counteract the negative one she’d been saddled with thanks to her mother and father’s tawdry actions. “You know who I am, but you haven’t introduced yourself.”
His cocky smile faltered slightly. As if stalling, he took a long pull of his beer, set it down and scraped his hair off his forehead. Then finally he leaned forward, his dark eyes trained on her. “Sergeant Cole McKinney, Texas Ranger.”
Joey licked her lips in stunned silence.
This hot-as-all-get-out biker bad boy was Cole McKinney? The Cole McKinney, illegitimate child of Jim McKinney? The boy who’d been shunned by the McKinney family?
And he was a Texas Ranger? A law enforcement agent?
Not a freeloading biker or a criminal.
“I see the wheels turning in your head, Joey Hendricks.” His husky voice skated over her raw nerve endings. “And yeah, I’m that Cole McKinney, a sum of all those rotten things you were thinking. And a few more you don’t even know about.”
“I…what are you doing here?” she whispered.
A bitter laugh followed, husky and filled with emotions she was certain he hadn’t meant to reveal. Then quiet acceptance registered in his intense eyes as if he expected skepticism. Even disdain.
And he probably did. He’d been an outcast from the town all his life.
“Believe it nor not,” he said quietly, “the Texas Rangers requested my services as a tracker to help find Sarah Wallace’s killer.”
Suddenly at a loss for words, she didn’t protest when Cole raised his hand and ordered her another shot. Instead she accepted it graciously, then studied him with a different eye. If the Texas Rangers had requested his assistance, he must be damn good at his job.
What did he know about the investigation? Something the Rangers hadn’t revealed to the press?
Her hand trembled as she turned up the second shot glass.
Was he here to arrest one or both of her parents?
COLE TOOK ANOTHER long pull of the beer, hoping the cold liquid would chill the fire burning his body. A heat caused both from his temper at her reaction to his name and his body reacting with lust to her every movement.
“So, Cole, how did you get to be a Ranger?”
A smile quirked his mouth. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he’d just made the woman nervous.
Then again, knowing what he did about her family, he figured the Rangers were probably the last people she wanted to see.
And his brothers probably would resent her interference, as well. Since the Rangers were part of the state agency, they’d think the governor sent her to spy on them. Hell, he probably had.
“I joined the Army at seventeen,” he said with a shrug. Unlike Zane, who’d gone to college, earned a degree in criminal justice and worked in criminal investigation. Or Sloan, who had been sheriff of Justice.
“Then I spent some time in the Middle East, got into military security.” Sniper training to be exact, but he didn’t have to spill his guts. Like how many kills he had under his belt. “When I got out, I joined the DPS and became a motorcycle state trooper for a couple of years.”
She cocked a brow at that, and he grinned. “The way you handled that bike, you must have grown up on a Harley.”
He laughed, then sobered as he remembered how hard he’d worked to earn his first bike. Just the way he’d scraped for everything in his life. “Naw, on a ranch, but I was a bull rider.” And he wanted to ride her.
The thought made him tighten his fingers around the long neck of the beer bottle. He could not get involved with Joey Hendricks. Even though he’d earned the college credits necessary for the Rangers, he was rough around the edges. He’d hunted down the worst dregs of society, worked undercover in operations that would make her head spin. He’d killed and not looked back.
She was sophisticated. Educated. Out of his league.
And although she worked for the governor and might not admit it, she was tied to this town and her family. Had a vested interest in protecting her parents, whereas he was tied to no one. Didn’t care who was arrested as long as justice was served. In fact, he wouldn’t be in town long enough to let the dust settle on his seat. And if he had to lock up one of his blood kin, so be it.
“So, you haven’t seen your brothers yet?” she asked.
“You mean half brothers?” He finished his beer, then grunted. “Nope. I’ll have that pleasure in the morning.”
She nodded, and drummed her fingernails on the table, then glanced around the bar, looking restless again. Or was she looking for someone in particular?
“What about you? Visited your family yet?”
Pain tightened her features. “No. Haven’t spoken to Mommy and Daddy dearest in years.”
Now, that surprised him. On second thought, he didn’t know why. From what he’d read about the homicide investigation into the case of Lou Anne Wallace, about Joey’s brother’s kidnapping and her mother’s past drinking problem, her family was as dysfunctional as the McKinneys. But still, family ties ran thick and deep.
Was she here in an official capacity, or had she come because of her own secret agenda—to see that her mother and father weren’t arrested for the crimes?
Chapter Three
Cole finally dragged his butt into the shower at dawn. He hadn’t slept worth a flip for thinking about the investigation and wondering how his brothers would react to the sight of him. Not that he cared…
And then there had been the fantasies about a certain sexpot blonde that had plagued him all night long.
After their drink, he’d walked her to the inn where they both were staying. Adding more fuel to the flames of his imagination, he learned she was in the room right next door to him, so they’d shared an awkward but titillating moment in the hallway as they’d said good night. Awkward because he’d damn near forgotten his head and kissed her. Titillating because he’d sensed she’d wanted it as much as he had, and that she would have let him.
Then they would have ended up in bed for some mind-blowing sex—at least that’s where the kiss had led in his fertile fantasy—and he would have at least felt sated, if not rested.
Now he just felt irritable and restless.
Because nothing had happened.
He showered and managed to find a razor, wishing he’d had time for a haircut, then cursed himself for worrying about his appearance. He didn’t give a damn what his brothers thought—or anyone else in town.
Grimacing, he dressed in his normal Ranger wear: clean jeans, a white Western shirt, boots, belt and tie. Determined to prove he was a top-notch Ranger himself, he pinned on his badge and grabbed his Stetson and the folder of notes he had collected on the first investigation of Lou Anne Wallace’s murder sixteen years ago. Then he headed to that diner he’d seen last night, to pick up some breakfast before he met the McKinney brothers and the local deputies for a briefing. If he was here to track evidence in the woods, he needed food and coffee, and lots of it.
After all, he had a big advantage over his half brothers. He wasn’t personally attached to Jim McKinney or anyone else in town.
A BLOODCURDLING SCREAM pierced the air and forced thirteen-year-old Joey from her peaceful sleep.
Her mother.
She threw the covers aside, jumped up and ran to the door. But when she swung it open, a thick plume of smoke curled through the hallway. The scent of charred wood and fabric hit her. Oh God, the house was on fire!
Her father…no, daddy was at his house .
She had to get to her mother…but where was she?
And little Justin?
His room was downstairs next to her mother’s.
Joey ran through the fog of smoke, feeling for the banister to help guide her, coughing and choking as she made her way to the door of the nursery. Flames licked the walls in the kitchen and crawled along the floor in the den. The curtains erupted into a ball of fire and sparks flew from the ceiling. Wood crackled and popped, splintering as the table collapsed into flames.
Her mother was already awake, standing at the crib.
Joey’s eyes stung from the smoke. “We have to get out of here!”
Her mother spun around, eyes wild with terror, a crazed expression on her face. “Where’s my baby? What did you do with him? You were supposed to watch him for me!”
Joey’s heart pounded as she rushed forward to check the crib. Little Justin was not inside. Panic stabbed at her chest, robbing her of air. Where was her baby brother? Had he crawled out? Could he be somewhere in the house?
No, please no, the fire…it might have gotten him already. Or he might have inhaled too much smoke…
Her mother jerked her by her pajama shirt and shook her. “Where is he, Joey? Where’s my baby? What did you do with him?”
“Mom! I don’t know. Let me go.” She yanked her mother’s fingers away. “I’ll look for him.”
The scent of liquor permeated her mother’s breath. “Tell me what you did with him!”
Joey’s heart wrenched. “I put him to bed…he was here.” A sob racked her, and heat scalded her face. The fire was slipping toward the hall. They had to get out.
“Please, Mom, call the fire department. I’ll hunt for Justin!”
Her mother threw her hands in the air. “No! He’s gone—he’s not here! Someone took him, I know it!”
“Mother, call the fire department. We need help! And get Rosa!” Joey frantically searched the room and closet to see if Justin might have hidden inside. But no Justin.
Outside, a siren wailed, indicating that someone had phoned the firemen. Probably Rosa. Thank heavens. Now, if she could just find her little brother…
But she couldn’t search with her mother in hysterics, so she dragged her into the hallway. The kitchen was engulfed in flames. She couldn’t go that way. The front door was smoky, the flames licking at the wall casing and rippling a path of fire in front of it. Her heart racing, she glanced around the room for her baby brother, but didn’t see him. Maybe he was in the playroom upstairs.
Suddenly Rosa raced into the hallway, a stricken look on her face. “Hurry! Out the window in my room!”
“We can’t, we have to find Justin!” Joey screamed. “Take Mom outside. I’ll look for him!”
She shoved her mother toward Rosa, and her mother crumbled in Rosa’s arms. Joey lurched toward the steps to search upstairs, but firemen crashed through the front, spraying water. Chaos erupted. One of the firemen grabbed Rosa and her mother, and another one ran toward her.
“Come on, this house is going down!” he yelled. “You can’t go upstairs! No time to save your things!”
“My baby brother…we can’t find him!” Joey cried.
The fireman gently coaxed her toward the other man. “Get out of here now! We’ll find the boy!”
JOEY JERKED AWAKE and sat up, sweating and shaking. Tears rained down her face, the familiar guilt and terror gripping her full force.
The chaos. The firemen hacking away the window, breaking glass. Pushing her mother, Rosa, then her outside. Them collapsing on the lawn and watching in abject shock as the flames engulfed room after room and the house collapsed in front of them.
The firemen eventually appearing through the haze of smoke and debris, looking dazed, frustrated, sorrowful.
Their arms empty. They hadn’t found Justin.
Then her father had driven up, frantic and acting like a madman as he discovered the horror.
For the next forty-eight hours, she and her mother had moved on autopilot. Her mother had had to be sedated. Her father had stalked the police for a report.
Joey had blamed herself. And in every waking or sleeping moment she’d heard her little brother’s cry.
Then finally a small amount of relief. The reports proved that Justin had not been in the fire.
He had disappeared instead.
The theory was that he’d been kidnapped. The fire had been a ruse to distract them.
And then a new kind of terror had seized them. Fear that a monster had Justin. A sexual predator. A child killer. They’d imagined the worst. And then the horrible wait. Hoping and praying for a phone call. A ransom note.
But the note and call had never come.
Which had made them all suspect that something had gone wrong with the kidnapping.
And that Justin was dead after all.
The nightmare had magnified tenfold after that. The police had turned on the family. Questioned them all. Donna. Her father. Even Joey and Rosa.
And eventually they’d accused her father of planning the kidnapping/murder for the insurance money.
Joey swiped tears from her eyes and headed to the shower. Although it had been sixteen years since that day, she still smelled the smoke and sweat on her skin. Still felt the flames singeing her skin, heard her mother’s cries of terror and the accusations she’d hurled. And the image of her father breaking down had been etched in her mind.
Had his tears been real? Or had he planned the disappearance of her brother and his grief had been an act?
Had her brother not disappeared, would her parents ever have reconciled? Not with Lou Anne in the picture…
The very motive the police had attached to her mother years ago.
Donna had cloaked herself in bitterness after the divorce. Mentally Joey recognized the fact that the problems between her parents had driven the family apart long before the kidnapping/murder. But Justin’s disappearance had ended any chance they’d had of reclaiming a normal, civilized relationship.
She would never be free of the guilt.
Her stomach twisted into a knot. She was here to help find the answers.
But heaven help her, she was afraid of what the grand jury might find.
IT HADN’T OCCURRED TO COLE when he’d entered the café that the owner of the Main Street Diner was Joey’s mother. But with her flaming red hair, he’d recognized her instantly from old news photos. Dressed in an immaculate pantsuit with pearls around her neck, she greeted the customers while an Hispanic woman she called Rosa bustled around filling coffee mugs and serving breakfast.
Donna had given him the once-over when he’d first entered, as if she thought she should recognize him but didn’t. And she’d glanced at him with hooded eyes a dozen times since, trying to figure him out.
He hadn’t offered up his identity. Right now his anonymity might play in his favor.
“More coffee?” Rosa asked.
He nodded and thanked her for topping up his cup. “Those biscuits were the best I’ve ever tasted.”
“Gracias, señor.” She strode away with a smile of pride, although when she joined Donna, they disappeared into the back room speaking in hushed voices.
He reread the notes on the kidnapping/murder investigation while he polished off his steak and eggs. Donna Hendricks’s drinking problem, coupled with her husband’s affairs, had led to a bitter divorce and custody battle. Both Joey, thirteen at the time, and Donna’s toddler son, Justin, were caught in the war, but Leland had won custody. Then one night, when Joey and Justin were at Donna’s, a horrible fire had broken out. Rosa Ramirez had been the caretaker/nanny and housekeeper for Donna when Justin had been kidnapped.
Cole had been a teenager himself, but news of the fire and kidnapping/murder of the toddler had been all over TV.
In the police reports, he skimmed Donna’s statement. Then Leland’s. Donna had been despondent over her son’s disappearance and the possibility of his death. She’d nearly had a breakdown and had been treated for depression. Leland had appeared to be distraught, had vowed to find his son and pay for his return, no matter the cost. Both had vehemently denied allegations that they were involved in a kidnapping/ murder scheme.
Joey’s interview had been the tale of a traumatized teenager. A kid who’d tried to save her drunken mother and find her baby brother in the midst of a blazing fire. A kid who probably still had nightmares of that night.
Then the speculations had started. Leland, the big oil baron, had been broke. He’d allegedly concocted a fake kidnapping/murder in order to collect on a life insurance policy. Donna had testified against her ex.
Leland had blamed Donna, and claimed that if she’d been sober, she might have heard someone break in and take their toddler.
They’d waited on a ransom note, one that hadn’t arrived. The police had grown suspicious, then finally they’d decided the fake kidnapping/murder had turned sour.
More details on the family dynamics had been disclosed. Lou Anne Wallace, Leland’s second wife, had been spoiled and supposedly married Leland for his money. She had her own kids, Anna and Sarah, and didn’t want custody of Joey or Justin. She especially hadn’t wanted a screaming two-year-old. And she’d never given up her affairs.
Cole grimaced. He imagined how miserable Joey must have felt, then clenched his jaw—he had to stop thinking about Joey Hendricks.
But her mother, Donna, was another story. She’d hated LouAnne Wallace for marrying Leland. Donna had speculated that since LouAnne hadn’t wanted the kids around, she had helped Leland with his scheme. Others suspected Leland murdered LouAnne because she intended to go to the police about his illegal plan.
But no one knew the truth.
Then Sarah Wallace had come to town a few days ago, supposedly with new evidence, but she’d been murdered before revealing the details.
All roads led back to the kidnapping/murder of Justin Hendricks. If they found out the truth about that night, they’d find the answers to the Wallace women’s murders.
The door creaked open, and he froze with his coffee cup midway to his mouth as Joey walked in. She looked gorgeous and sexy as hell. Her long blond hair was pulled back in a clip at her nape, and she wore jeans that outlined those long legs and her tight butt, and a soft, feminine blouse that gaped above her cleavage. His mouth watered.