Secrets In Texas. Carrie Weaver
Flinched as shots echoed in her sunny kitchen.
Stumbled to the floor, still tethered to Kent. Saw him writhe once, twitch, and then lay still.
Sighed when her hair was cut from Kent’s grip. And focused on the hank clutched in her husband’s fist.
Even in death, Kent had refused to let her go.
CHAPTER ONE
Nine years later
Brownsville, Texas
ANGEL HARRISON squared her shoulders and entered the conference room. One look at her new assignment and she wanted to puke—the man and all he represented sickened her. But he was one of the good guys now, she reminded herself.
Or so she was told.
Realizing her supervisor waited for her to make nice, she forced herself to step forward and shake the visitor’s hand. She also forced herself not to break all twenty-seven bones in his pale hand. Just apply enough pressure so he knew she meant business. “I’m Agent Harrison.”
To his credit, he didn’t flinch. And he didn’t try to one-up her by resorting to force. He just held her gaze, his green eyes serious as he acknowledged her greeting. “Ma’am. I’m Matthew Stone.”
“So when are we getting married?”
He shrugged, not a golden hair out of place on his conservative head. Nodding toward the suit and the ranger entering the conference room, he said, “Whenever they decide.”
To give him credit, he was a cool one. And better-looking than his photos suggested. Definitely not Brad Pitt-perfect, more like Matthew McConaughey masquerading as an overgrown, utterly serious Eagle Scout. His crooked nose was the only feature out of the ordinary.
Angel’s inspection was interrupted by the ranger, Javier Perez. He was legendary in the law-enforcement community as tough but fair.
Ranger Perez took the lead while the man in the suit positioned himself in an unobtrusive corner. He had federal agent written all over him.
Angel struggled to keep her expression impassive as her supervisor went to fetch coffee. Women of her rank shouldn’t fetch coffee. Women of any rank shouldn’t fetch coffee.
Perez took his place at the head of the table. “Please sit down, Mr. Stone, Agent Harrison.”
Angel longed to defy the command. But today compliance served a purpose. She sat stiffly on the edge of the chair.
Ranger Perez slid a file folder to Stone, then one to Angel. “Here is the identity we’ve created for Agent Harrison. Since she works undercover with the Department of Public Safety gang unit, there will be no paper trail to refute the identity we’ve set up or cast any doubt on the whirlwind romance you two are about to begin. It’s the best cover we could devise to get an agent inside.”
“Is it really necessary? The Vegas wedding?” Stone asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
Perez frowned. “We think so. It’s likely Jonathon Stone has been keeping tabs on you in recent years, possibly even the entire time you’ve been away from the sect. Marriage records are in the public domain, precluding a more long-term union. Hence your new red-hot romance with Agent Harrison resulting in a quickie marriage. The more public, the better.”
Angel winced. This was so not her idea of a decent cover. How would she be able to act lovey-dovey with the Eagle Scout? Eyeing him, she decided even a bottle of tequila wouldn’t do the trick.
Perez cleared his throat, as if sensing she wanted to bolt for the door. “We’ve shaved a few years off Agent Harrison’s profile because ATF surveillance indicates your stepfather, um, uncle, might be more…receptive to a daughter-in-law on the easy side of thirty. Fortunately Agent Harrison appears much younger than her age.”
Thanks, asshole.
Matthew’s lips twitched as if he’d heard her thoughts loud and clear. And agreed with her.
Angel revised her earlier assessment of Matthew white-bread-bland Stone. He might seem quiet and unperturbed, but beneath the surface he was razor-sharp.
Angel’s cheeks warmed with an unfamiliar wave of shame. Surely he couldn’t see inside her with that steady gaze of his? Couldn’t see all she’d endured and sacrificed to rejoin the human race?
He averted his head, but not before she’d seen pity flash in his eyes.
Damn. Did he know? There was nothing to tie her to the news reports detailing the bloodshed nine years ago.
But Matthew Stone somehow knew her shame. And pitied her.
Angel did what came naturally these days—she came out swinging. “Let me get this straight, Ranger Perez. You want to serve up my well-preserved-for-an-old-broad-of-thirty-one body to Jonathon Stone? That’s how I’m supposed to protect the women and children at Zion’s Gate?”
“Certainly not, Agent Harrison. Your job is to observe and report back. You will not have a weapon. You will not confront anyone at Zion’s Gate. You will secure information, nothing more.”
“You say one thing, Perez, but your actions say another. You are putting Agent Harrison at risk.” Matthew’s voice was deceptively quiet, with an underlying edge. “I won’t be a party to prostituting any woman to get in my uncle’s good graces. And, yes, as my father’s brother, he is my uncle. His marriage to my mother was not legal and was not sanctified in any church I acknowledge.”
Perez’s eyes narrowed. “Point taken.”
Angel noticed he didn’t deny sending mixed messages. He wasn’t going to flat out tell her not to sleep with the perverted old goat to facilitate her assignment.
Instead Perez fell back on the bureaucratic mumbo jumbo so uncharacteristic of a ranger. At least uncharacteristic until the deaths at the Branch Davidian sect and the resulting Waco fallout. “The Rangers are grateful to Agent Harrison for volunteering for this assignment. But, just so you’re both crystal clear, she is not working for the Texas Rangers in any capacity. Nor is she working for the ATF or DEA. Our agencies will merely be apprised of any information she gathers that might pertain to the security of our citizens.”
“So if anything happens to her, you’re not responsible.” Matthew’s relaxed pose didn’t change, but the air seemed to crackle around him. No wonder Jonathon Stone had taken the dangerous gamble of inviting his nephew back into the fold. Matthew had the charisma to shore up his uncle’s crumbling position as Zion’s Gate lord and dictator.
When Perez didn’t confirm or deny the allegation, Matthew continued. “The way I see it, you gentlemen are putting Agent Harrison at the mercy of a murderer, in the very core of his highly armed compound.”
Perez stiffened, his fists clenched. “We’re all adults here, we know what we’re up against.”
Matthew stood, his movements slow, almost lazy. “I’m not sure you have any idea what you’re up against at Zion’s Gate, Ranger Perez. And if you do, you will be no less culpable than my uncle.”
Only then did Angel realize Matthew Stone was sending a civilized death threat. She got the impression Perez’s badge would be little protection against Stone if things went wrong.
Angel understood in that moment how huge her initial error in judgment had been. Not only was Matthew Stone a lot smarter than he’d let on, he was an extremely dangerous man. Her gut told her he wouldn’t hesitate to kill if necessary.
And if the way Perez clenched his jaw was anything to go by, he realized it, too. “The fact is, Zion’s Gate is in law enforcement no-man’s-land. Part of it lies on the U.S. side of the border and is connected by a tunnel system to the rest of the compound. Even if the Texas authorities were magically able to remove their thumbs from their collective Waco-weary asses, Jonathon Stone would still use his tunnel system to move to the Mexican side.”