The Texan's Secret. Linda Warren
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“Renee’s son and his family live here.”
“I’d like to thank them.”
The tension tripled. “There’s no need.”
She was about to persist when his phone buzzed. He reached for it in his pocket and saw the caller ID. “I’m sorry, but I have to take this.”
“I’ll just…go up and thank Renee.” Shay picked up her cup.
“Walker, the constable, is coming by to talk to you this morning,” Chance called as she left.
“Okay.”
He clicked on his phone. “What is it, Monty?” Monty was one of the cowboys on the ranch.
“Where are you? You didn’t sleep in the bunkhouse last night.”
“Did the boys fix the fence at Crooked Creek?” Chance countered with a question of his own.
“Yep. All done.”
“Get them to check all the fences to make sure no limbs fell on them in the rainstorm.”
“Will do. Where are you? Are you still dealing with that wreck?”
“Yeah,” he said, and clicked off before Monty could get in another question.
Chance hurried for the stairs to get dressed. On the third step he stopped. Was he seeing things? Was there a light coming from Judd’s study?
He eased down the stairs and went to check, thinking it might be the early morning sun reflecting off the big front windows. He walked into the hall. The doors to Judd’s study were closed and there was definitely a faint light coming from within—a light that hadn’t been there earlier. Was Renee up and looking for something? But the study was Judd’s private sanctum and it wasn’t like his mother to be up this early.
Slowly, Chance opened one of the French doors, and received the shock of his life. Shay had Judd’s safe open and was rummaging through it. What the hell?
She closed the safe and turned the knob. Then she saw him. In the light of the lamp on the desk he could see the blood drain from her face.
Chance glanced from her to the safe and then back to her startled eyes. “What are you doing in here?”
“Nothing.” She edged around the desk.
“You had the safe open. What were you looking for?”
“Nothing.” She moved farther away and held out her hands, palms up. “I didn’t take anything.”
“Come on. Who are you? What are you doing here and how did you know the combination to the safe?”
Before he guessed her intentions, she darted past him, ran through the foyer and slammed the front door in his face. He immediately ran after her, only to see her jump into the rental and tear out the driveway.
Since he didn’t have his boots on and his truck was at the bunkhouse, Chance didn’t even try to follow. It was too late; she was already long gone.
He cursed himself while dressing. Walker had her address, and Chance was going to track down Shay Dumont if it was the last thing he did.
In a matter of minutes he had her Houston address from Walker. Chance told him about the incident, and the constable wanted to put an All Points Bulletin out on her. Chance kept seeing the fear in Shay’s eyes, however, and wanted to find out firsthand what she was after. The law officer reluctantly agreed, but they both knew Judd was going to be pissed. It was up to Chance to make everything right. He felt he owed that to Judd for bringing her into the house.
He didn’t tell Renee much—only that the rental had been delivered and their mysterious guest had left. The older woman was disappointed.
He checked on the cowboys and put Monty in charge. Then, after filling his truck with gas, Chance headed for Houston.
Thanks to the GPS in his truck, her house was easy to find. He took the Airline Drive exit from the freeway. She lived in the north central area of Houston, in an older neighborhood. He pulled up near a small, cream-colored frame house with brown shutters. The paint was peeling and the place needed a good coat of fresh color.
A bright blue house was next door, the two set closer than the others on the block. The yard was hard to miss, since about a dozen pink flamingoes stood among plastic windmills, birdhouses and birdbaths. On the garage door was a sign: Nettie’s Beauty Nook. Evidently the garage had been converted into a beauty shop.
Shay had said something about a cousin who helped her. That could be her house.
Farther down the street two guys were working on a car, with a stereo blasting. Cigarettes dangled from their lips and tattoos ran up their arms. Another car sat to the side with grass growing around it. Chance had a feeling the neighborhood wasn’t too safe.
He turned into Shay’s driveway and parked. Time to meet her and her family. Climbing from the truck he strolled up the walk. There wasn’t a bell so he knocked.
No one came to the door, but he could hear voices inside. Suddenly the door opened a crack, the safety chain still attached.
“What do you want?” a girl about seven or eight asked. In jeans, sneakers and T-shirt, she seemed overly thin. Her brown hair was cut short like a boy’s, and she wore wire-rimmed glasses that were so lopsided he wondered how she saw anything out of them.
“You better close the door,” a boy about the same age said from behind her. “Your mom said we weren’t supposed to open it to strangers.”
Mom? Shay had a kid?
The girl spared the boy a sharp glance. “You’re such a scaredy-cat.”
“Am not.” He peered around her shoulder to the driveway. “Look, Darce, he’s got a truck.”
She followed his gaze and then looked at Chance. “Does it have a Hemi?”
Chance was taken aback by the question. Most kids her age wouldn’t know the term. “Do you know what a Hemi is?”
“Yes.” She nodded and straightened her glasses. “It’s a tough truck that will go through mud, creeks and mountains. It can do anything.” She pointed to the boy. “His brother is saving up for one and has pictures all over his wall.”
“I see.” Chance had to smile at the imagination of children. He glanced over his shoulder. “My truck is a Chevy four by four.”
“Then it’s a piece of junk.” The girl had a razor-sharp tongue and the attitude of a cowboy who’d had too many beers the night before.
He couldn’t stop thinking that this was Shay’s child, and that Shay probably had a husband as well. She had a family and was trying to rob the Calhouns. That didn’t fit. She was too nice.
Whoa, cowboy. He was letting his heart rule his head because he was smitten with her. Feeling that way about a woman hadn’t happened in a long time. And it felt good. But now he had to think with his head.
“Go away,” the girl said, and made to slam the door. But he put his booted foot in the opening, that had become wider as they were talking.
“I’d like to talk to Shay, please,” he said politely.
“Sic him, Tiny,” she said to the dog fussing around her feet.
The small canine, a cross between a Chihuahua and something else, launched himself through the crack. Latching on to Chance’s jeans with his sharp teeth, Tiny shook his head as if he were a Doberman about to take down a rottweiler.
Chance reached down and dislodged the dog from his jeans. He rubbed the animal’s head, and Tiny growled deep in his throat. “Think I’ll take you home with me. I know two little boys who’ll give you a run for your money.” Chance had no plans to take the dog. He just wanted to get the girl’s attention. And he