Daughter of Texas (2 page)

Tucking her small frame against his side, he led her away from the scene of the crime and into the living
room. He flipped on the table lamp before guiding Corinna to the worn navy blue leather couch.

She'd been a gawky pre-teen with a mouth full of braces and an attitude of superiority that had grated on Ben when he'd first met her. He'd watched her transform into a Texas Rose—beautiful, poised, aloof and way off-limits.

At least for a guy like him.

Now Corinna was an orphan. Something they had in common. His heart twisted with empathy and remembered pain. All the confusion, anguish and utter helplessness of losing his parents still swirled around his heart, even after more than two decades.

Ben gathered Corinna's hands in his. He'd walk through this with her every step of the way. But first he had to know what had happened. “Corinna, I need you to talk to me.”

Her lips trembled but no words came. Large tears slid from her eyes to mingle with the blood on her cheek. It hurt him to see her so distraught.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.

She blinked, a slow sweep of long dark lashes. Turning her head to meet his gaze, she said in a soft, broken voice, “Someone killed him.”

“Did you see who shot your father?”

She shook her head. “I heard the gunfire as I arrived.”

He hated to push Corinna for fear she might break, but he needed to know what she'd seen so they could follow the fresh trail to Greg's killer.

“I need you to walk me through this. You arrived and heard the gun. Were you in your car?”

She shook her head. “On the porch.”

“How many shots did you hear?”

“Two.”

He rubbed her arms, careful not to go near the stark white bandage wrapped around her biceps. “Okay. That's good. You heard two shots. Then what happened? Did someone run out?”

“No. I ran in. The study light was on. Then it wasn't. I—” She closed her eyes.

He sensed she was close to the edge, but he had to know. “You what?”

“I opened the door.”

“What did you see?”

She began to rock slightly, back and forth. Back and forth. “Nothing. Gabby startled me and I jerked back.” She lifted her gaze, her obsidian eyes filled with horror.

“Someone shot at me.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“Too dark. I hid. The person ran out through the patio doors.”

Grateful that she'd had the presence of mind to hide, he asked, “When you turned the light on, was…your dad like you found him?”

“Yes. But…he wasn't breathing.” Her voice broke on a sob.

“Do you know the other man? Do you know why he was with your father?”

“No. No, I don't.”

“Did you hear anything else? Voices? See anyone?”

She shifted her gaze away toward the window. “I heard the distant sound of an engine.”

Ben glanced out the picture window at the back of the living room to the acreage where he knew a dozen or so horses grazed. The killer could have used the property's rear gate.

“We should question the neighboring ranchers. See if anyone saw a vehicle leaving the premises,” Trevor stated in his brusque manner. “Cade, Levi, go.”

The two agents looked to Ben for confirmation. Ben nodded. “And check the gate. That could have been the escape route.”

The two men hustled out of the house. Ben noted Trevor's frown but now was not the time to deal with the pecking order within the Rangers.

He refocused on Corinna. “Do you normally arrive home at this time?”

“No. I'm usually much later, but Kyle's sick. Hard to practice the duet routines without him,” she said.

Was it coincidence that her dance partner had been sick or a ruse to get her home? Was she the intended target? Ben knew of Kyle Dennison, though they'd never met. He would run a check on Dennison as a precaution. At this point, he couldn't overlook anyone as a potential suspect.

Anything out of the ordinary required examination. They didn't know what or who they were dealing with.

If only Greg had kept Ben in the loop on what he'd been working on before it became a dire situation. If only he'd contacted Ben sooner…

Oliver stepped forward, his dark eyes on Corinna. “So you heard nothing that would tell us who did this?”

“No. Just the gun…” A sob broke from her and she buried her face in her hands.

Ben gathered her stiff form close, letting her cry. He hadn't had much opportunity to comfort grieving women. Doing so felt awkward and yet, tenderness rose to the surface, making him tighten his arms around her. She felt so delicate and defenseless in his arms.

The white bandage covering her biceps glowed like a neon sign. A few more inches and the bullet could have lodged in her heart. She'd come close to dying tonight.

Just like her father. Grief battled to be loosened. He held it in check. This was not the time to give vent to his emotions. He had to stay focused. Greg would have counted on Ben to find his murderer. As well as protect Corinna. Failure at either task was not an option, which only served to increase the pressure building in Ben's chest.

Corinna clutched the front of his chambray shirt. A haunted look darkened her eyes. “You have to find the person who did this.”

“I will,” he vowed as he pulled her back to his chest.

No matter what it took, he would bring down Captain Pike's murderer. For Corinna. For all of them.

B
en's strong arms encircled Corinna, buffeting her from the raging nightmare going on around her as uniformed San Antonio police officers filled her house. She shifted on the couch. Biting pain from the wound on her arm zinged through her. Never in a million years would she have thought she'd be in this position.

Acutely aware of Ben's closeness, she allowed him to hold her, needing his strength. At the moment, she had none of her own.

His heart pounded like thunder in her ears through his shirt, drowning out the crackle of radios and dismay of law enforcement officers as they discovered one of their own had been murdered. The cotton fabric of Ben's shirt, so soft against her cheek, smelled freshly laundered. She focused on the little things. That's all she could do right now.

She squeezed her eyes tight.

Why couldn't this be a nightmare? Why couldn't she open her eyes and find herself back at the dance studio? Or better yet, back to this morning when she'd kissed her father goodbye for the day, not realizing it would be the last time she'd ever see him alive.

A sob of pain and grief lodged in her throat. Tears leaked from her closed eyes. She fought to hold them back. She was usually so good at keeping her emotions under control.

But the image of her father lying in a pool of his own blood blazed in her head, forever imprinted in her mind. She shuddered. Ben's hands smoothed over her back in a calming rhythm. He would find whoever had done this. Her father had trusted Ben.

Truth be told, so did she, even if she did harbor anger and resentment toward Ben for invading their lives and taking her father's attention away from her. Every time they went off to do “guy” things, Corinna had seethed inside and longed to be included. She never was. They had locked her out of that world. Though as she'd grown older she'd resigned herself to being excluded, she still blamed the man her father had taken under his wing. The son he'd never had.

“Ben, we need you in here,” said a deep voice that Corinna recognized as Ranger Marvel Jones. He was a tall African-American man with a shaved head.

She felt Ben nod.

“In a minute,” Ben replied. “Can you ask Gisella to come here?”

“Sure thing,” Marvel said.

Ben tried to ease Corinna out of his arms. She resisted, unwilling to face reality on her own. Here, within Ben's embrace, she felt safe, felt protected from the grief waiting to overwhelm her.

It didn't make sense. He was the last person in the world she should be looking to for solace. Old wounds
full of antagonism stirred, but the overpowering anguish wouldn't let anything else in.

“Corinna, honey, I need to talk to you. Please, look at me,” Ben said, his voice soft and coaxing.

She shook her head. “I can't,” she whispered, not wanting to break the protective barrier of isolation that kept reality at bay. She squeezed her grip on his shirt, pulling herself tighter against his chest.

With gentle yet firm pressure he pushed her away and lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers. “Open your eyes.”

Reluctantly, she did as he asked. For a moment her eyes wouldn't focus, but then his familiar and handsome face came into view.

She stared at him dispassionately and took in his features, the strong jaw, lean cheekbones, straight nose. She liked the way his warm brown, close-cropped hair spiked up in front, giving him a roguish appeal. His dark brown eyebrows slashed over hazel eyes.

Eyes so full of the same pain and grief she felt.

Fresh tears burned the back of her eyes. Tears for this man whom her father had loved like a son. Ben was grieving, too.

From the moment her father had brought him home when he was a teenager, he'd been her rival for her father's attention. He'd won.

Ben had become the son her father had wanted. The one he'd confided in, the one he took to his favorite sports events, the one who'd been groomed to follow in her father's footsteps.

Oh, she'd never doubted her father's love for her. He'd always attend her recitals, made a big deal of her
birthdays and lavished her with gifts at Christmas, but it wasn't the same as wanting to be with her.

An intense pain, a familiar ache of losing a parent—losing the person who knew, supported and loved you no matter what—lanced through her. Her chest tightened. Daddy. She would give up everything to have him back with her even for just a moment so she could tell him she loved him. But that would never happen.

Neither she nor Ben had had a chance to say goodbye.

“You got here before the police,” Corinna said aloud, realizing that several Rangers had arrived before she'd even heard the sirens.

He nodded. “Yes. The captain sent out a message to come here.”

Her pulse spiked. “He needed you.”

Guilt flashed across his face. “Yes. If only I'd been closer, arrived sooner, maybe I could have prevented his murder.”

She wanted to blame him. To shout that
yes, he should have been here to stop this from happening,
but deep inside she knew that wasn't fair. “If you had been here, you probably would have been shot as well.” She swallowed back the bile that rose. “If I had come home any earlier…” Her voice trailed off as the thought played itself out in her head. If she'd arrived any earlier, she, too, could very well be dead right now, not just injured.

Ben took in a sharp breath. “Thankfully, you didn't.” He eased apart from her and stood. “I need to talk with Gisella for a moment.”

Her gaze slid to the female Ranger standing in the
doorway, patiently awaiting Ben. Pallor underscored her olive skin and her dark eyes were sad. Dressed in worn blue jeans, soft leather boots and a Western-cut pale blue blouse, she didn't look like a Ranger. Corinna wondered fleetingly what she did when not on duty.

“I'll be right back,” Ben said and walked away.

Wrapping her arms around her middle, Corinna kept her gaze trained on Ben as he stood quietly talking with Gisella. From her peripheral vision she saw the EMTs roll in a gurney. Deep inside she knew it wasn't for her father. Her father was dead. He'd be leaving with the coroner.

No, the gurney was for the man who'd survived the attack.

The man who might know who killed her father.

After a few moments, Ben and Gisella walked over to the couch, blocking Corinna's view as the unidentified man was wheeled out. She dropped her gaze to her clenched hands. Her mind replayed the last images she had of her father. His body sprawled across the floor, blood staining the shirt she'd ironed for him that morning. His dear face frozen in death. A shudder ripped through her.

Gisella remained standing while Ben sat beside Corinna on the couch, crowding her space. His big, strong hands engulfed her slender, delicate ones, making her feel so small and helpless. She didn't like the feeling at all, but at the moment, didn't have the power to fight against it.

“You can't stay here,” Ben said.

“Do you really think the person who shot at me might come back?”

“I don't want to take any chances,” he said. “He can't know for sure you didn't see him.”

She hated the thought of being run out of her house. She wished she could be strong enough to stay. But…not tonight. Her father had been killed here. His blood still stained the carpet. Her blood was splattered on the door. She wondered if she'd ever be able to enter the study again.

Grief twisted her insides, making her ache way worse than any wound to her arm could. “There's living quarters in the barn out back. I'll stay there.”

From the way his lips flattened into a grim line, she could tell he wasn't hip to her plan. “It would be better if you stayed somewhere else. Gisella has offered her house.”

“No. I wouldn't want to bother anyone, even another Ranger.” Just the thought of the sympathy and hovering that her friends would do, made her recoil. She didn't like to be coddled. She straightened her shoulders. “I'm staying. This is my home. I'll not be run off. Someone needs to tend to the animals. Besides, how would anyone know I was in the barn?”

Disapproval flashed in his eyes. “I don't think this is a good idea.”

“Not your call, Ben.”

His mouth pressed into a grim line. “Then I'll have SAPD post a guard outside.”

“Fine.” She appreciated his concern and caution, though she doubted it would be needed. “I'll need to pack a few things to take out there with me.”

He pulled her to her feet and walked her toward her room, keeping his body between her line of vision and
the study. Once they reached her room, he backed away with a nod, his face grim.

Gisella stepped into the room. “What can I do to help?”

Bring my father back to life.
The thought flittered across Corinna's mind. But no one could do that.

Her hands curled into fists. Anger roared through her like a lion on the chase.

Her soul cried out to God,
Why? Why did You let him die, too?

Her faith in God had been rocked when her mother had died. She hadn't understood why God had allowed the sickness to overtake her. Why, if God was the great physician, hadn't He answered her prayers and healed her?

Her father had assured her God did love her. That God was good. That sickness was a part of the human condition. Words that didn't offer comfort to a twelve-year-old girl.

Her father had also told her to remember she'd see her mother again one day in Heaven. Corinna had clung to that thought. And as long as God kept her father safe, she could cling to Him, too.

But now her father was dead.

God had turned His back on her prayers. God had never loved her. She didn't even know if there really was a Heaven. She had nothing to cling to anymore. Her faith had been shaken to the core.

 

The barn's living quarters consisted of a loft space with a pullout sleeper sofa, TV, table and chair. Ben had stayed in the loft on numerous occasions when he'd
first met Greg and had needed a place to stay until he could afford his apartment. A small refrigerator sat in one corner and a wood stove with a pipe chimney took up space in the middle of the loft.

As Ben lit the stove to warm up the loft, he said, “I really wish you'd reconsider staying here.”

She arched an eyebrow at him. He figured she was going for haughty, but all he saw was a woman close to the breaking point.

“This is my home. My life. I get to decide. I can understand your concern, really, I can. But you've taken precautions. There isn't anything more you can do.”

Even though he'd made arrangements to have a guard posted on the property, he had a bad feeling about leaving Corinna here. He couldn't take chances with Greg's daughter's life. She was his responsibility now. He would protect her, be there for her and guide her as best he could.

As best she'd let him.

He didn't doubt that once the shock wore off, Corinna's icy superiority would return to replace the vulnerability in her pretty eyes.

And short of hauling her in for some trumped-up charge, he really had no say in where she stayed.

Before leaving, he made sure she had her cell phone and his number on speed dial in case of an emergency.

“I'll be fine.” She'd moved to stand at the top of the loft stairs, her arms crossed over her chest, looking as if she were trying to contain her grief. “You go do what you need to do to find my father's killer and don't worry about me.”

Easier said than accomplished. But he left her in the
barn and headed to the house. Back inside the study, Ben's gaze fell on the dark crimson spot tarnishing the thick rug.

Both Greg and the other man were gone. Greg to the morgue, the mystery guy to the hospital with Marvel and Daniel riding along. The two Rangers had instructions to stick close to the man in case he awoke and also to provide protection.

Ben didn't want the assassin trying to finish the job before they could get information out of the man who might hold the key to Greg's murder.

Ranger Anderson Michaels stepped to Ben's side, his thunderous expression reflecting the rage gathering steam inside Ben. “No weapon. No fingerprints, no shoe prints outside, either.”

Ben grunted in response. “A professional hit. Do you know what case Greg was working?”

“No. Care to enlighten me?”

“Seems he didn't share it with any of us. Must have been a new case.”

Anderson gave him a quick glance. “You didn't know? That's so…wrong.”

Ben shrugged back the hurt trying to worm its way into his consciousness.

“Yes, it's wrong,” Trevor remarked as he joined them just inside the doorway of the study. Tall and lanky with blond hair graying at the temples, his blue eyes were hard as ice. “The captain should've kept us in the loop. He was too much of a one-man show.”

Ben fisted his hands and slowly turned to face Trevor. “Do not ever besmirch the captain again.”

Trevor held up his hands, palms facing out. “Hey,
I'm just telling it like it is. Pike was a good captain, but he kept too much too close to the vest. We're a team, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” Ben rolled the tension from his shoulders as he tried not to see the truth in Trevor's words. Greg had kept information from the team on occasion.

One incident in particular came to mind. There had been a string of jewelry store heists across the state. Somehow, Greg had had a lead on one of the thieves. He'd staked out the guy's house. Alone.

He'd captured the man and then called in the bust. A stash of jewels had been found on the premises and the thief turned on his cohorts.

The situation had ended well. But it could have gone terribly wrong. Greg had gone against protocol, risking his life and the investigation. His defense was that he'd worked alone to minimize the chances the guy would get spooked and flee.