Kitabı oku: «Justice for a Ranger»

“Sergeant Cole McKinney, Texas Ranger.”

Joey licked her lips in stunned silence.

This hot-as-all-get-out bad boy was Cole McKinney? The boy who’d been shunned by the McKinney family?

And he was a law enforcement agent?

“I see the wheels turning in your head, Joey Hendricks.” His husky voice skated over her raw nerve endings. “And yeah, I’m the sum of all those rotten things you were thinking. And a few more you don’t even know about.”

What did he know about the investigation? Something the Rangers hadn’t revealed to the press?

Her hand trembled.

Was he here to arrest one or both of her parents?

To Mallory Kane and Delores Fossen

for birthing this fabulous storyline and letting

me be a part of it. Here’s to more Rangers

stories in the future…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former kindergarten teacher and workshop leader, she traded storytelling for kids for romance, and writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write to her at PO Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, USA, or visit her website at www.ritaherron.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Joey Hendricks – Guilt-ridden over her brother’s disappearance/death, she will do anything to find out the truth about who kidnapped him – even if it means sending her own parents to jail.

Sergeant Cole McKinney – The bastard son of Jim McKinney has always dreamed of confronting the man who sired him, and his half-brothers. But helping exonerate his father is not in his plans…

Lieutenant Zane McKinney and Sergeant Sloan McKinney – Cole’s half-brothers have different theories about their father’s guilt.

Jim McKinney – This Texas Ranger’s career and life was ruined when he was accused of murdering Lou Anne Wallace.

Leland Hendricks – Joey’s father would do anything for money. But would he try to kill his wife and threaten his daughter?

Donna Hendricks – Donna blamed Leland for their toddler son’s disappearance. Does she know more than she’s telling?

Justin Hendricks – He was only two when he was kidnapped. Is he alive or dead?

Lou Anne Wallace Hendricks – She married Leland for his money, but couldn’t give up her lovers. The police are still looking for her killer…

Rosa Ramirez – The nanny adored both Joey and Justin. Would Rosa have committed murder to stop Leland’s kidnapping plan?

Governor Clayton Grange – He sent Joey to Justice to handle the media. Why is he so interested in the murders?

Justice for a Ranger

RITA HERRON

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Chapter One

Hell must have finally frozen over in Justice, Texas.

That was the only explanation for the phone call requesting his services from his half brothers, Lieutenant Zane McKinney and Sergeant Sloan McKinney, both Texas Rangers.

As was Cole, but they had never met or asked for his help on a case before.

Not him—the bastard, bad-boy brother they all hated.

Cole traced a proud finger over the silver star he’d earned through his own blood, sweat and tears. He was a sergeant now himself. He’d made the grade with no help. No financial support or fancy education. No loving, doting parents.

Not like Zane and Sloan.

A bitter laugh rumbled from deep within his gut as he threw his clothes into a duffel bag, stepped into the hot sunshine and climbed on his Harley. Dammit. He’d been ordered to leave his current case behind, come straight out of the trenches where he’d been working a lead on a smuggling ring along the border, to assist in Justice.

Of course, his half brothers must be desperate to exonerate their father, to finally free him of the murder charges that had hung around his neck like an albatross the past sixteen years. A murder investigation that had been revived because Sarah Wallace, daughter of Lou Anne Wallace, the woman his father had slept with and had been accused of strangling with her own designer purse, had just been murdered in the same hotel room, in the same manner.

And most likely by the same person who’d killed her mother.

Bitterness swelled inside Cole as choking as the insufferable summer heat. Did his brothers actually think he gave a damn about the outcome? That he’d come running to team up with them to save their father because he wanted to see Jim McKinney’s good name restored?

Jim McKinney—the father who’d abandoned him and his mother. The father who’d never acknowledged his existence. The father who had been nothing more than a sperm donor on his behalf.

The man who’d broken his mother’s heart.

Barb Tyler had never married after her short affair with Jim McKinney. She’d claimed Jim had ruined her for another man. And she’d taken that love with her to her grave no more than a year after Jim McKinney’s arrest. If Cole hadn’t known better, he’d have thought she’d died of grief for the man’s lost reputation herself.

He hated Jim for it.

Still, he was a Texas Ranger. Part of the most revered, effective investigative law enforcement agency in the world. And he was damn proud to be a lawman. God knows he’d been on a crash course to jail himself when Clete McHaven, the rancher his mother had cooked for, had caught him trying to steal from his ranch and had made him work off the debt or go to the pen.

He scrubbed a hand over his three days’ growth of beard stubble, knowing he looked like hell as he strapped on his biker’s helmet, cranked up the Harley’s engine and tore down the driveway. Dust and pebbles spewed from his tires as he careened onto the highway. Anger and determination had him pushing the speed limit.

Not that he was in a hurry to see the long-lost family that had cast him aside as if he was a leper.

But he had a chance to prove that a real Texas Ranger didn’t need book education or to be a good ole boy. That his tracking skills had earned him a spot as a top-notch lawman.

He had no intention of begging for accolades from the McKinneys, of trying to worm his way into their snotty huddle. Hell, he didn’t need them or their approval.

And he would not play favorites in the investigation.

Jim McKinney had been a bastard who couldn’t keep his pants zipped. And although he’d never been convicted of murder, if he had killed Lou Anne Wallace and her daughter, Cole would find out. Then he would snap the handcuffs around his wrists and haul him to jail where he belonged.

And he wouldn’t think twice about who suffered when he did.

TO SOME PEOPLE GOING HOME meant reuniting with loved ones. Reliving warm memories and seeing friends. Safety.

To Joey Hendricks it meant pain and anxiety. Opening wounds that had never healed. Dealing with her own guilt over her two-year-old brother’s disappearance sixteen years ago. And facing a mother and father she hadn’t spoken to in years. A mother and father who hated each other.

But she did work for the governor as a special investigator and when the infamous governor of the great state of Texas said jump, she jumped.

The sign for Justice, Texas, appeared, and she grimaced. At first sight, it looked like a cozy small town in which to raise a family. A place where everyone knew his neighbor, no one ever met a stranger and they would welcome her back with loving arms.

But secrets and hatred had festered in the town like sores that wouldn’t heal. And someone wanted to keep those secrets hidden. They’d murdered Sarah Wallace to do so and had tried to kill her sister Anna and the sheriff, Carley Matheson, when they’d searched for the truth.

Her heart turned over as she passed Main Street Diner. She’d been shocked when her mother, whose total culinary skills when Joey had been growing up constituted throwing together a plate of cheese and crackers to accompany her cocktail dinner, had bought the establishment. She’d been shocked even further to learn that Donna had given up the booze and pills.

Not shocked enough to want to see her just yet, though.

Oh, it was inevitable that she face both her dysfunctional parents, but first she wanted to learn more about the investigation. Just how much and what kind of evidence did the sheriff have against Leland and Donna Hendricks?

Late evening shadows cast gray lines across the street and storefront awnings as she spotted the Matheson Inn, where she’d reserved a room. She tightened her fingers around the steering wheel and veered into a parking spot, then stared at the burned-down ruins of the Justice jail. The sign for the police department had turned to black soot. Ashes, charred black wood, burned metal all lay in rubble. Only the metal bars of the jail cell remained standing, empty and exposed, as if still waiting for a prisoner. A stark reminder that the original killer had never been incarcerated. And now he’d murdered again.

Poor Sarah Wallace… Memories of her troubled teenage years haunted her. When Lou Anne and Leland had married, Lou Anne’s daughters, Sarah and Anna, had moved in with them for a short time. But they hadn’t been any happier about the union than Joey, so they’d moved out shortly after. She hadn’t been close to either of them, but she hated to think that Sarah had been murdered.

The stench of the fire and charred remains still filled the air, wafting in the suffocating heat as she climbed out. In front, a media crew and several locals had gathered, a camera rolling.

The very reason she was here. To control the media circus. More than one investigation had been blown because of some dim-witted or too-aggressive reporter. Innocent people had been tried and convicted in the process.

Other times the guilty had gone free.

The governor was adamant that the past not repeat itself. Lou Anne Wallace’s murderer had escaped sixteen years ago, as had the person who’d kidnapped Justin, Joey’s own baby brother. The town of Justice had never gotten over either event. Jim McKinney’s impeccable Texas Ranger reputation had been ruined because of his affair with Lou Anne and his subsequent arrest, his family shattered because of it.

And it had destroyed what was left of Joey’s already crumbling family, as well.

The governor had worked with the D.A.’ s office at the time of Lou Anne’s murder. Ironically Joey had been afraid that her family name would hinder her career, but the governor had given her a chance to prove herself. And she had. In fact, Governor Grange had been more of a father figure to her the past four years than her own dad had.

And he’d trusted her enough to send her here now, trusted her to be objective about the McKinneys. After all, Jim McKinney’s sons were in charge of the case. Rangers investigating one of their own, especially a family member—definitely a conflict of interest.

Tucking a strand of her unruly blond hair behind one ear, she buttoned her suit jacket and headed toward the media. Harold Dennison, a reporter who had a reputation for causing trouble, stood in front of the dilapidated ruins recounting the events of the night of the fire.

“Local sheriff Carley Matheson and Texas Ranger, former sheriff of Justice and hometown boy Sergeant Sloan McKinney were inside the jail when an explosion rocked the walls and caused the building to catch fire. Both Sheriff Matheson and Sergeant McKinney barely escaped with their lives.” The camera panned across the site, capturing the destruction and violence. “Sheriff Matheson has been taken to a safe house but continues to work in conjunction with the Texas Rangers to solve the current homicide, which appears to be connected to the murder of Lou Anne Wallace sixteen years ago.”

“Do they have any leads yet?” an elderly man asked from the crowd.

A woman in the front row hugged her children to her side protectively. “When will there be an arrest?”

“Did Jim McKinney kill Sarah Wallace and her mother?” someone else shouted.

Dennison caught sight of Joey, and a predatory gleam appeared in his eyes. “Good question. I see someone here who might have the answer.”

Joey braced herself for a confrontation. Dennison was like a snake coiled to attack anyone even remotely related to the crime.

And she was definitely related.

“Miss Hendricks is from the governor’s office and, I believe, one of your own homegrown girls.” He offered a challenging look that sent alarm bells clanging in her head. His comment had been a direct hit to irk her.

She’d heard his ugly insinuations before. As if she was unworthy of working with the esteemed governor. The daughter of a small-town drunk and a rich oil baron father who might have sold his own baby’s life for a dollar.

Well, a hundred thousand to be exact, but same difference.

“Would you like to address the citizens?” Dennison extended the microphone to her as if they were working together.

Not on his life, they weren’t.

But Joey had learned how to play the game with the big guns. And she’d be damned if she’d let this pigheaded moron intimidate her.

She pasted on a professional smile and accepted the mike. “Joey Hendricks here. I am a special investigator with the governor’s office. I want to assure the residents that the governor is aware of the situation in Justice. The Department of Public Safety and the Texas Rangers are working diligently to solve the recent homicide as well as the murder of Lou Anne Wallace, and the attempted murders of Anna Wallace, Sheriff Matheson and Sergeant McKinney. We intend to restore a sense of peace and order to Justice as soon as possible.” She smiled, injecting confidence into each word. “It’s imperative that you folks remain calm. If you have any information pertaining to these crimes, no matter how insignificant, please step forward. Together, we can end the terror seizing the town.”

Dennison arched a brow. “So that means that you’re prepared to own up to your family’s possible involvement in the murders?”

Heat caused rivulets of perspiration to collect on her nape. “I trust the Texas Rangers and Justice Police Department to find the truth.” She gestured toward the black-sooted police department building. “In spite of the recent demise of our local facility, the law enforcement agents are working 24/7. When information becomes available, I will see that it is dispensed to facilitate an arrest.” She leveled a warning look at Dennison. “After all, we don’t want the investigation ruined by false reporting or irresponsible press coverage.”

Dennison moved like a true viper. “Is it true that the police are focusing the investigation on your parents, Miss Hendricks? That your father tampered with his own surveillance tapes to hide his part in your brother’s kidnapping and murder? That he killed his wife, Lou Anne, because she intended to disclose his scheme?”

Joey’s insides clenched, a tremor running through her, although she tried desperately to mask any reaction. “As I said before, I will disclose information as soon as the facts become available. To speculate about unsubstantiated allegations would be detrimental to the investigation.”

He opened his mouth to continue his interrogation, but she cut him off with a withering look. “Thank you in advance for your cooperation.” She shoved the microphone back in Dennison’s hand and walked away.

Head high, shoulders rigid, she passed the inn, then the Main Street Diner and headed to the one spot in town that held a few precious good memories. Although there were bad ones there, as well.

The Last Call. She’d dragged her mother from the bar more times than she could count. Had driven her home and helped her to bed, listening to her vent her anger at Leland for his infidelities and her anguish over her missing toddler son.

But Joey had had her first taste of hard liquor in the establishment, too. And lost her virginity afterward.

A sardonic laugh escaped her. Sex was out of the question tonight.

But a drink was definitely in the picture.

Something strong to help her forget that her parents were once again smack-dab in the middle of a homicide investigation. That she blamed them for her brother’s disappearance.

That her own guilt was unbearable.

Suddenly a low roar rent the night air, and tires screeched. A lone headlight blared in her eyes. She froze momentarily, then realized it wasn’t a car, but a motorcycle careening toward her. A Harley with a leather-clad man all in black.

His tires screeched and sparks flew from the asphalt. He obviously didn’t see her.

And if she didn’t move fast, he was going to plow right into her.

Chapter Two

Cole gripped the handlebars with a white-knuckled grip as he skidded sideways. Sparks flew from the asphalt, and his tires ground against the gravel, sending small rocks scattering in a dozen directions. Instead of having the good sense to move, the leggy blonde froze in place, making the blood rush to his head and sending a shard of panic through his chest.

He had to miss her, but damn—he didn’t want to tear up the expensive machine below him, either.

Okay, she was much more important than his Harley, but still…

He caught the bulk of the bike’s weight with his muscled strength, tilted his body sideways to compensate for the spin and to keep the Hog from rolling, then roared past her and skidded to a stop near the rail hitching post in front of the Last Call. She jumped into the shadows of the awning just as he cut the engine.

Hissing a sigh of relief and frustration, he shot off the bike, whirled around and glared at her. Adrenaline fired his veins and sent a furious round of curse words sailing past his lips. He wanted to wrap his hands around her delectable little throat. “What the…didn’t your mother teach you not to stand in the street?”

“You moron!” she shouted back at the same moment. “You nearly killed me.”

Moron? “You’re questioning my intelligence?” He ripped off his helmet, then slung his hair out of his face. “Dammit, sugar, you’re the one who needs to watch where you’re going!”

“I could say the same thing to you.” She jabbed a sharp red fingernail at his chest. “I don’t know what kind of hole you crawled out of, but pedestrians have the right-of-way in this town, and the speed limit is…well, you were way over it.”

Her scathing words reminded him too quickly what he’d already known—that he shouldn’t expect a warm welcome in Justice. That some people here thought he was a low-life slime just because he was the bastard son of Jim McKinney.

The very reason he’d headed to the bar first thing.

Before he faced his half brothers the next morning, he intended to have a cold one, unwind and cool off. And where better to get the local scoop than the town’s pub?

Loose lips liked to talk….

A sliver of moonlight caught her blond hair and sassy eyes, and his gut did an odd flip-flop. She was the hottest woman he’d ever laid eyes on. Her bare legs came up to her neck, the suit jacket she wore had popped the top button and a generous amount of cleavage spilled over the top of a black lacy camisole beneath. Damn.

He’d never met a drink or a woman he didn’t like, or at least wanted to taste. And this was one tall drink of water that tempted his thirst, badly.

“You give every man you meet this much trouble?”

She gave him a scathing look. “Men are nothing but cheaters and liars. They use women, then walk away when they’re finished.”

“Ouch.” She’d been hurt badly by someone. He swallowed against the sudden dryness of his throat. He felt as if he’d eaten dust. Or maybe her comment hit too close to home. “What if I said I’m sorry?”

She tossed a silky-looking strand of hair over her shoulder. “For yourself or for the sorriness of all those with the Y chromosome?”

His mouth twitched. “Both.”

Her lips finally quirked. “All right. I…I…guess you’re forgiven.”

She glanced back at the jail cell standing like a monument in the center of town across the street, and he realized she might have just come from that media circus. She didn’t look happy about it, either.

He’d sped past it, irritated at the thought of facing the mangy reporters. He imagined the headlines with a snarl.

Poor little illegitimate son shows up in town to help exonerate his father.

So what was her problem with them?

Not that he cared, but looking at her was a nice diversion. “Let me buy you a cold one. You look like you need it as much as I do.”

“You can’t imagine.” She rolled her shoulders, and a whispery sigh escaped her that made his chest tighten.

Man, he did like women. All their softness. The way they smelled. The feel of their skin against his.

And hers looked soft and creamy. And her voice, now she’d stopped screaming at him, sounded low and throaty.

Sultry.

Oblivious to the train of his lustful thoughts, she sashayed ahead of him and reached for the door. His gaze latched on to the rounded curve of her hips in that short, tight skirt, and his hands itched to reach out and wrap themselves around her tush.

He shoved them into his pockets instead. Women were trouble, and he was here on business, not to get laid or involved with a local.

A sea of smoke and noise engulfed him as they entered the bar. Willie Nelson’s voice droned out from the jukebox, peanut shells littered the scarred wooden floor, and the scent of beer and cigarette smoke clouded the room.

Ahh, pure heaven to a man’s senses.

She hesitated slightly, though, and he noticed the men in the back stop their pool game to gape at her. At the same time, two old-timers sharing a pitcher turned to ogle her, and the bartender, a forty-something bald man with a thick neck, raised an appreciative brow. This girl would not be paying for her own drinks. No sirree.

But what would the jerks expect in return?

Cole’s protective instincts surged to life. “How about a booth?”

She plunked into a corner one, and he claimed the seat across from her, then shot the other men a warning look as if to say she was off-limits. Outside the shadows of night and the awning had shielded her face, but although the lights were dim now, he saw her face clearly. He’d thought he’d sweated outside in his leathers with the summer heat beating down on him on the ride into Justice, but his temperature skyrocketed toward the hundreds as he realized who this sexy bombshell was.

Joey Hendricks—he’d seen her several times on television beside the governor. Holy hell. She was a hotshot special investigator with the state.

And she was also the daughter of the oil baron Leland Hendricks, who’d been accused of the kidnapping and murder of his own child. Hendricks and his ex-wife, Donna, had been major suspects in the murder of Lou Anne Wallace.

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.