Daughter of Texas (9 page)

She laid a hand on his arm. Her touch sent ribbons of longing through him. Again he wondered where this attraction to her had come from? And how was he supposed to ignore it?

“You don't have to keep checking up on me. It makes me feel like you don't trust me,” she said.

“It's not you I don't trust,” he replied, putting his feelings into his voice. “It's everyone else.”

“Not even the Rangers?”

Contrition lifted one corner of his mouth. “Okay, them I trust.”

She arched an eyebrow. “And SAPD?”

He barked out a short laugh. “All right. I get it. You don't want me hovering.”

“No, I don't.” She removed her hand and backed away. “I'm okay without you.”

Her words carved into him as neatly as a butterfly knife does a freshly caught trout. Gathering his composure, he saluted her. “No worries. I won't bother you again.”

He resolved to keep his promise—from a distance. It was safer that way.

 

Over the next couple of days, Ben dealt with seven cases that crossed his desk. He'd delegated each to a Ranger so he could concentrate on finding Greg's murderer and keeping Corinna safe from the man who wanted to prevent her from identifying him.

Now, he tried to contain his mounting aggravation as he finished reading Evan's report from the Feds. They hadn't heard of the Lions of Texas either, but promised to check with their informants within the penal system to see if this was a new gang.

Coma guy was still unconscious. So far every avenue of identifying him had come up empty. How could the guy be so completely off the grid?

And the sketch of the man who'd broken into Corinna's house hadn't garnered any hits either. Frustration had become Ben's constant companion.

Gisella knocked on Ben's office door. Grateful for a
distraction, he waved her in. She strode inside and took a seat across from the desk.

“I'm worried about Corinna,” she said without preamble.

The mention of Corinna's name tightened something inside Ben's chest. Though he'd had regular reports from Officer Hagerty and was assured she was safe at all times, Ben had had to fight the urge to see for himself. She'd asked him not to and he was honoring that request.

Every night when he went home he found subtle clues she'd been there visiting Gabby. A couch pillow out of place, the cat's dishes filled. Corinna's scent, fresh and fruity, lingering in the air.

And now here was Gisella saying she was worried about Corinna. Apprehension lanced through him. “What's happened?”

Gisella held up her hand. “Nothing. She's fine. No more break-in attempts. It's…it's just she's pushing herself so hard. She hardly eats, hardly sleeps. She's at the dance studio for hours without a break. Then at the shelter. I know she has this thing coming up, but all this coming and going exposes her. And I'm afraid she's going to wear herself out.”

Concern burned through him. Honoring Corinna's request to stay away worked only if she remained okay. But from the sounds of it she really wasn't. “I'll talk to her.”

“I know Greg would have appreciated that,” Gisella said, her dark eyes sad. “I can only imagine how hard this must be for her.”

Ben cleared his throat to relieve the choking grief welling up. “Yes. For all of us.”

Levi appeared in the doorway. Energy emanated from his muscular frame. “Hey, just got a call. There's been a bank heist downtown. It's turned into a hostage situation. Local PD has requested help.”

Adrenaline crashed through Ben in a wave. He jumped up, ready to go. But then he remembered. He was captain. His job was to delegate and coordinate. Staying would be hard but necessary. “Go, both of you. Take Oliver and Trevor.”

Gisella rushed out after Levi, leaving Ben alone. Slowly he resumed his seat, confident in his team's abilities.

His
team.

A pang of sorrow robbed him of the pride he should be feeling.

His gaze sought the picture of Greg with the Rangers. “I'll do you proud,” he whispered.

W
hen Ben arrived a little after eight in the evening at the San Antonio Ballet Company, he found Officer Hagerty standing guard outside one of the studio doors. A haunting melody wafted from the other side of the door. The rest of the building was dark and quiet.

“Is she alone?” Ben asked.

Hagerty nodded. “Everyone else left an hour ago. She usually stays an extra hour.”

Reaching for the door handle, Ben said, “I'll take her home tonight.”

Hagerty inclined his head. “Appreciate it.” The officer ambled out. A few seconds later, his police cruiser left the parking lot.

Ben eased open the door and stepped inside the hardwood-floored room. Mirrors covered the opposite wall from floor to ceiling, bisected by the wooden bar bolted into the glass. Classical music played on an iPod attached to an iHome. But it was the woman in the center of the room who held Ben enthralled.

He'd never seen Corinna dance. Her lithe form moved with grace, beauty and a frenetic energy as she twirled and spun, leapt and dipped. The graceful chaotic
dance was almost painful to watch, yet Ben couldn't look away.

Her white leotard accentuated her thin and muscular frame, yet highlighted her curves. A fluttery skirt around her waist made her appear like an ethereal fairy, who might disappear at any moment. Her dark hair captured at her nape by a pink net served to draw his gaze to her swan-like neck. Her eyes were closed in her pale, oval-shaped face as she moved in tempo to the poignant tune.

The whole effect touched something deep inside Ben. Not quite sadness, not quite joy. Something unfamiliar welled in his chest, making his heart ache.

When he noticed tears slipping from beneath her long, dark lashes, the need to take her in his arms became unbearable.

He had to do something.

He moved forward, the heels of his suede boots making barely audible clicks on the gleaming hardwood floor. He stepped into her path as she spun toward him. She collided with his chest. His arm encircled her, harnessing her frenzied energy. She gave a startled yelp.

Her eyelids flew open. Panic fled and was replaced by recognition tempered with anguish and torment swirling in the depths of her gaze. Ben felt the impact of her sorrow deep in his soul.

Her breath came out in ragged puffs. She tried to wrench free. He held her, gently tightening his hold. She brought her small fist up to beat at his chest. He absorbed the blows, allowing her to let loose without restraint.

The blows tapered off and she dropped her head
against his chest. He pulled her closer. Her arms encircled his waist as she let loose with big gulping sobs. Though he'd held her like this once before, there was something much more profound about this moment. Maybe it was the realization of just what their lives would be like with Greg gone.

He'd thought he was cried out, but as he rested his cheek against the top of her head, his own tears of grief freely flowed.

She quieted, pressing her cheek against his heart, sending warmth flooding his system. Her hands moved up his back, to his arms as she eased away to stare into his face. Her delicate features reminded him of a porcelain doll he'd once seen. Perfect, beautiful.

Her eyes darkened more as her hand reached behind his head and pulled him to her. He couldn't have resisted even if the thought had formed.

Their lips met, at once urgent and comforting. Sensation ran rampant through him. Yearning for a closeness he'd never experienced rose within him.

This went beyond the physical, to a heart level where a need for intimacy that had nothing to do with the kiss and everything to do with healing exploded. But true healing couldn't be found in a kiss. True healing came only from love. From God.

“Corinna,” he murmured against her lips. “We can't.”

“Shh,” she pleaded, refusing to let him ease away.

“Please, just hold me.”

Everything inside of him wanted to relent, to give himself over to the longings ripping him apart, but he couldn't. He had a duty, an obligation to Greg, to God,
to protect her. His honor wouldn't allow him to let this go on. He disengaged from her, setting her back on her pointed ballet shoes. “This is wrong. I can't take advantage of you.”

She stared at him as if he'd slapped her. “Take advantage? Hello! I'm the one taking.”

“What's this about?” he asked, his voice ragged to his own ears. “Your frenzied dancing, the kiss. This isn't you.”

“It's the only way I can deal with the pain,” she cried, whirling away from him. “When I'm dancing, the world goes away. When I kiss you…” She let loose a bitter, desperate laugh. “Though why I would want anything from you is beyond me.” Her gaze hardened.

“It's because of you that I lost my father long before he was murdered.”

He drew back. Where was this coming from? “What are you talking about?”

She scoffed. Her fists clenched at her side. “I'm talking about all the time he spent with you. Time that should have been mine.”

Feeling like he was lost in a foggy haze, Ben tried to make sense of what she was saying. “I don't understand. Your father loved you dearly and spent every moment he could with you.”

“Hardly. You were the one he took fishing and camping. You were the one he invited to the Spurs games.”

“Because you were here,” Ben pointed out. “You spent practically every waking moment dancing. What did you expect of your father?”

“To want to be with me,” she stated in a sharp-edged voice.

“He did want to.” Ben stared at her defiant, hurt expression in confusion. Did she really think her father had favored him over her? And still held that against him? “Corinna, your father wanted you to have everything you wanted. He wanted you to pursue your dream.”

“But it wasn't my dream. It was my mother's!” she cried. Then her eyes widened with horror and she slapped a hand over her mouth. “I didn't mean that.”

Stunned by her revelation, he reached out a hand to her. “Corinna—”

She let out a tortured groan, whirled around and ran out of the studio. Ben ran after her, but pulled up short when she entered the women's locker room.

Wiping a hand over his face, he leaned against the wall to wait. He hadn't realized she resented him, nor had he realized how she felt about her dancing. He could only imagine how she must be feeling right now. He'd never been in a situation like this, always preferring to keep people at an emotional distance, but with Corinna he couldn't seem to do that.

He'd made a mess of things. He didn't know how to reach out to her, to heal her. Wasn't sure he really wanted to. But he had to. He'd made a promise.

Deep in his spirit he felt a groaning sigh working its way up.

“Oh, Lord, please,” he whispered. “I don't know what to do.”

For I will turn their mourning to joy.

The words from the Bible in the book of Jeremiah came to him, offering him comfort. Not by his power
but by God's. He clung to that promise. If only Corinna would be open to God's healing.

Somehow, someway, God would show him how to help her.

A high-pitched scream, abruptly cut off, shattered the quiet. Ben's heart pitched. Fear revved his blood.

In a frantic motion, he pushed away from the wall and banged into the locker room. A man wearing a black ski mask had Corinna by the throat, his big, beefy hands squeezing her tender flesh. She fought, clawing at his arms, kicking with her feet.

How had he entered the building? Ben's hand went to his holstered gun. But he knew getting off a clean shot in such tight quarters would be tricky. The assailant only had to whip Corinna around and she'd be in his line of fire.

Corinna's panicked eyes sought his before they rolled back.

White-hot lightning rage flashed through Ben, propelling him over the wooden bench. He slammed into the assailant, sending him crashing sideways into the metal lockers and breaking his grip on Corinna.

She slid to the floor in an unconscious heap, distracting Ben for the split second it took for the man to come at Ben swinging, connecting with Ben's nose. He felt pain explode in his face. Tears immediately blinded him. Still, he lashed out, his fist glancing off the guy's cheekbone and another punch driving deep into his gut.

Another jabbing blow from the attacker to Ben's already broken nose drove Ben back to his knees. Bright lights blurred his vision. He tried to grab the attacker by
the waist, but the assailant twisted away, eluding Ben's grasp.

The sound of running footsteps echoed inside the tiled locker room. Then the assailant was gone.

When his vision cleared, Ben scrambled to Corinna's side. His face throbbed. No matter how many times he'd experienced a broken nose, the pain was still the worst. But he knew it would eventually die away. Checking Corinna's pulse, he assured himself she was breathing before pulling out his cell phone to call 911 and then his team.

As he waited for help to arrive, he smoothed back a lock of hair that had come loose from her bun, leaving a trail of his blood smeared across her cheek. He yanked his hand back, hating that he'd marred her perfection. Hated even more the dark bruises showing up on the translucent skin of her neck where her attacker had tried to choke her.

The guy's build matched Corinna's description of the man who'd broken into her home. Possibly the same man who'd murdered Greg. Impotent fury tightened Ben's gut. He'd had the slimeball within his clutches and he'd let him get away.

He slammed a fist into the metal locker next to him.

“Ben? Is he gone?”

His breath caught at Corinna's soft voice, and he turned his attention to her. Tenderness constricted his chest. She blinked up at him with wide, trusting eyes. If anything had happened… He swallowed back the bile that rose.

At least he'd managed to save her life.

“Yes, he's gone. You're safe.” He cupped her face.

“Thank God you're all right.”

“God didn't save me. You did.”

He shook his head. “Make no mistake. God saved you. Because He loves you.”

Her gaze shifted away. Clearly she didn't share his opinion. It hurt to think she didn't believe what he'd said. Whatever else Ben did, he was going to make sure she knew just how much God loved her.

The sound of the ambulance arriving halted additional conversation. Ben helped Corinna to her feet. Together they met the paramedics and the police. He wasn't surprised to see Daniel and Anderson arrive. He knew the rest of the Rangers were tied up on other cases.

After having his broken nose set and bandaged, Ben gave a description of the perp to the responding officers. Then he checked with the paramedics, who assured him Corinna's bruises would heal. There'd been no permanent damage to her throat, and her momentary loss of consciousness was due to lack of oxygen. Though she'd have a headache for a while, she'd be fine.

They released them both with the promise that they'd follow up with their respective doctors.

After briefing the two Rangers, Ben drove Corinna to Gisella's. The house was dark when they arrived. No one answered when he knocked. Corinna let them in with the spare key Gisella had given her. She'd changed her clothes before leaving the dance studio, and now wore a lightweight sweat suit that covered her from neck to ankle but still managed to make her look tiny and break
able and yet very feminine. She appealed to Ben on so many levels. Levels best unexplored.

Collecting his thoughts, he called Gisella's cell phone. She answered on the third ring. “Hernandez.”

“It's Ben. We're at your house.”

“Did you get my message?”

He sighed. In all the commotion, he hadn't thought to check. “No. What's up?”

“I'm at the office filling out the paperwork on the hostage situation. Perp was taken out. All hostages were recovered unharmed.”

“Good.” He told her what had transpired at the dance studio.

“You're both okay?” she asked, her voice heavy with concern.

“Yeah. I'll wait here with Corinna until you arrive.”

“I'll be there as soon as I can,” Gisella promised before hanging up.

“Looks like you're stuck with me for a while longer.”

“I'm okay with that.” Corinna met his gaze. A smoldering fire lit the dark depths of her eyes.

His pulse jumped. His gaze dropped to her mouth where she worried the velvety softness of her full bottom lip with her straight white teeth. The yearning to kiss her grabbed a hold of him.

She leaned against the back of the couch, as if she needed the piece of furniture to hold her up.

Forcing himself to push away the current of attraction pulling at him, he said, “Maybe you should go lie down.”

Her lips twisted in a wry grimace. “I couldn't sleep
right now if I wanted to. My nerves are shot. How did that guy get in?”

Aching with regret at all she'd suffered, he said, “He pried open the locker-room window. It won't happen again.”

“Where's my gun? You never gave it back to me.”

He frowned. “Locked up. I'll protect you.”

She gave him a pointed look. “You can't be everywhere at once. I need to be able to defend myself.”

His gut clenched. “You could too easily be overpowered and the gun used against you. Or you could hurt someone and have to live with that for the rest of your life. Even when it's a bad guy, shooting someone takes a toll. Self-defense classes would better serve you.”

She contemplated his words. Then nodded. “I'll look into some. I did take a class years ago. But a refresher course would be good.” Her gaze landed on the bandage across his nose. “Does it hurt?”

He shrugged. “It's just a broken nose. I've had them before. It'll heal.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You've had your nose broken more than once before? What happened?”