Stone Cold Texas Ranger. Nicole Helm
She focused on the little window with the blinds closed. Inside, three officers were talking. Probably about her. One definitely complaining about her.
She was angry with herself for breaking rules she knew Texas Rangers weren’t going to bend, but she’d rather channel that anger onto Ranger Jerk.
Immature, yes, but the immature nicknames she gave each ranger who gave her a hard time entertained her when she wanted to tell them off.
The problem with Ranger Jerk was she could nearly forget what a jerk he was when he looked like...that. He was so tall and broad shouldered, and when he was always crossing his arms over his chest in a threatening manner, it was obvious he had muscles underneath the crisp white dress shirt he wore.
Like, the kind of muscles that could probably bench-press her. Not that she’d imagined that in those first few minutes of meeting him. Those were flights of fancy she did not allow herself. Not on the job.
Then there was his face, which wasn’t at all fair. She’d nearly been tongue-tied when he’d greeted her. His darkish blond hair was buzzed short, and his blue eyes were downright mesmerizing. Some light shade that was nearly gray, and she’d spent seconds trying to decide what to call that color.
Until he’d insulted her without a qualm. Because his good looks were only one problem with him. Only the tip of the iceberg of problems.
The door opened, and she forced herself to look calm and placid. She was a calm, still lake. No breeze rippled her waters. She reflected nothing but a peaceful and reflective surface.
But maybe a sea monster lurked deep and would leap out of the water and eat all of them in one giant gulp.
Yeah, her imagination had always gotten her into trouble.
“Ms. Torres. Come inside, please.”
She held no ill will against Captain Dean. He was one of the few rangers who respected and believed in what she did. He was, more often than not, the one who called her in to help with a case.
But she had crossed a line she knew she wasn’t supposed to cross, and she was going to have to deal with the consequences—which would gall. For one, because it meant Ranger Jerk got what he wanted. But more important, because she might have finally had some insight into her sister’s case, and been too impetuous to make the most of it.
“Have a seat.”
She slid into the chair opposite Captain Dean’s desk. The two rangers she’d been in the interrogation room with stood on either side.
They were impressive, the three of them. Strong, in control, looking perfectly pressed in what constituted as the Texas Ranger uniform: khakis, a dress shirt and a tie, Ranger badge and belt buckle, topped off with cowboy boots. The only thing the men weren’t wearing inside the office were the white cowboy hats.
She wanted to sneer at Ranger Cooper’s smug blue eyes, but she didn’t. She smiled sweetly instead.
“You breached our contract, Ms. Torres. You know that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your job is not to question witnesses. It’s only to put them under hypnosis, should they agree, to calm them and allow us to ask questions.”
“I know, sir. I’m sorry for...stepping out of line.” She offered both the men who’d been in the room with her the best apologetic smile she could muster. “I got a little carried away. I can promise you, it won’t happen again.”
“I’m afraid we can’t risk second chances at this juncture. Not in this department, not in the Texas Rangers. I’m sorry, Natalie. You’ve been an asset. But this was unconscionable, and you will not be asked back.”
She sat frozen, completely ice from the inside out. Not be asked back. But she’d helped solve cases. For years. She’d received a commendation even! And he was...
“Cooper, see her out?”
Ranger Jerk nodded toward the door. “After you.”
She swallowed over the lump in her throat. All her chances. All the times she’d been so close to seeing something of Gabby’s case. All the possibility, and she’d ruined it.
No, he’d ruined it for her. He had. She stood on shaky legs, clutching her phone and her purse.
“I am sorry.”
She didn’t look back at Captain Dean, or Ranger Stevens. She didn’t want to see the pitying, apologetic looks on their faces. Just like all those other policemen who’d come up with nothing—nothing when it came to Gabby’s disappearance.
Apologies didn’t mean a thing when her sister was gone. Eight years. And Natalie was the only one who held out any hope, and now her hope was...
Well, it had just gotten kicked in the teeth.
She managed to walk stiffly to the door and stepped out, the Jerk of the Manor still behind her. Too close behind her and crowding her out and away.
“I’ll see you all the way out of the building, Ms. Torres,” he said, sounding so smug and superior.
She walked down the hall, still a little shaken. But shaken had no hold on her anger. She glared at the man striding next to her. “You got me fired, you lousy son of a—”
“I’d reconsider your line of thought and blame, Ms. Torres.” He continued to look ahead, not an ounce of emotion showing on his face. “You got yourself fired. Now, stay out of this case. If I catch a whiff of you being involved in it anywhere, I will not hesitate to find out every last thing about you and connect you to whatever dirty deeds you’re hiding.”
“I am not hiding any dirty deeds.” Which was the God’s honest truth. She hadn’t stepped out of line in eight years. Or ever, really, but especially since Gabby had disappeared.
His eyes met hers, a cold, cold stormy blue. “We’ll see.”
She shivered involuntarily, because that look made her feel like she had done something wrong, which was so absurd.
Even more absurd was the idea of her staying out of the case. She’d take what little information she’d gathered and follow it to the ends of the earth.
Because she refused to believe her sister was dead. A body had never been found, and that Herman man had said...he’d said he keeps the girls. Not kept. Not got rid of. Keeps.
Maybe Gabby wasn’t one of those girls, but it was possible. More than that, she thought. The Texas Rangers might be a mostly good bunch, but they had rules and regulations to follow. Natalie Torres did not.
God help the man who tried to stop her.
The phone ringing and vibrating on his nightstand jerked Vaughn out of a deep sleep. He cursed and answered it blearily. Phone calls in the middle of the night were never good, but they always had to be answered.
Much to his ex-wife’s constant complaints throughout the duration of their marriage.
“Cooper,” he grumbled into the speaker.
“You’re going to need to get out here.”
He recognized his captain’s voice immediately. “Text the address.”
“Yup.”
Vaughn rubbed his hands over his face, then went straight to his closet where a row of work clothes hung, always a few pressed and ready to go. He never liked to be caught without clean and ironed clothes on the ready, even in the middle of the night. He looked at the clock as he dressed. Three fifteen.
He strode through his house, gave the coffeemaker a wistful glance. Even though he always kept it ready to go, he didn’t have time to sit around waiting for it to brew. Not at three fifteen.
With