Wild Horse Springs. Jodi Thomas
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was still there, but the demons in the corners of his mind were silent. Watching her move in the shadows relaxed him. She wasn’t petite, but tall and built with curves that her trousers and man’s shirt couldn’t hide.
“Cody,” he finally said. “My first name is Cody.”
She smiled then for just a second.
“You a nurse?” he asked.
“No. I’m a park ranger. If you’ve no objection, I’d like to examine your chest next.”
Cody didn’t move as she unzipped his jacket. “I used to be a ranger, but I never stepped foot in a park.” He could feel her unbuttoning his shirt. Her hand moved in, gently gliding across his ribs. “I put in a few years as a Texas Ranger.”
When he gasped for air, she hesitated, then whispered, “One broken rib.” A moment later she added, “Two.”
He forced slow long breaths as he felt the cold night air pressing against his bare chest. Her hand crossed over his bruised skin, stopping at the scars he’d collected that night at the Rio Grande. The night he bled into the mud. The night he first heard the devils hiding in the shadows.
She lifted the light. “Bullet wounds?” she questioned more to herself than him. “You’ve been hurt bad before, Ranger Winslow.”
“Yeah,” he said as he took back control of his mind and made light of a gunfight that almost ended his life. “I was fighting outlaws along the Rio Grande. I swear it seemed like that battle was almost two hundred years ago. Back when Captain Hays ordered his men to cross the river with guns blazing. We went across just like that, only chasing drug runners and not cattle rustlers like they did back then. But we were breaking the law not to cross just the same.”
He closed his eyes and saw his three friends. They’d gone through training together and were as close as brothers. They wanted to fight for right. They thought they were invincible that night on the border, just like Captain Hays’s men must have believed.
Only those rangers had won the battle. They all returned to Texas. Cody had carried his best friend back across the water that night three years ago, but Hobbs hadn’t made it. He’d died in the shallow water a few feet from Cody. Fletcher took two bullets, but helped Gomez back across. Both men died.
“I’ve heard of that story about the famous Captain Hays.” She brought him back from a battle that had haunted him every night for three years. “Legend is that not one ranger was shot. They rode across the Rio screaming and firing. The bandits thought there were a hundred of them coming. But, cowboy, if you rode with Hays, that’d make you a ghost tonight, and you feel like flesh and blood to me. Today’s rangers are not allowed to cross.”
Her hand was moving over his chest lightly, caressing now, calming him, letting him know that she was near. He relaxed and wished they were somewhere warm.
“You’re going to make it, Winslow. I have a feeling you’re too tough to die easy.” The lights of a helicopter circled above them.
He didn’t want to think about dying or being hurt. He pushed the ghosts who always followed him aside and focused on her. “If I live, how about we get together and talk sometime? Any woman who has six kids, can handle injuries in the dark and recognizes bullet wounds is bound to be interesting.”
She laughed. “You got yourself a date, Cody.”
1 a.m.
Wednesday
A LITTLE AFTER closing time at the Nowhere Club, Dan walked out to his Jeep. The midnight wind blew sideways, pounding tiny balls of snow as hard as gravel against his face, but he barely noticed. His evening with Brandi Malone wasn’t over, and that was all that really mattered.
The only person still parked out front was the big guy who’d sat next to Dan during Brandi’s last performance. He looked like he was sleeping off a heavy drunk in his old one-ton rig that took up two parking spots. He didn’t move when Dan walked within three feet of his window, and the sheriff was glad. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was arrest a man for stalking Brandi. Hauling the drunk in would ruin both Dan’s and the drunk’s night.
The trucker’s engine was idling, so Dan doubted he’d freeze even if he ran out of gas. Hank usually made sure the parking lot was cleared before he did the final lockup. The manager said once that drunks were like fish—they smelled if left out overnight.
Dan started the Jeep. It might not look like much, but the engine never failed to turn over. He pulled around the back of the bar, and Brandi darted out. She jumped in, squealing about the cold, and Dan laughed as he made a wide circle around the truck out front. He didn’t know what it was about this woman, but she made him feel free, like no troubles would find him as long as she was riding shotgun.
“You worried about leaving your van?” he asked, hating that he sounded like a cop. He pulled a blanket from the back and covered her.
She cuddled the wool all the way to her chin. “No, I’m not worried. I left it unlocked. If someone steals it, I’ve got insurance. If one of the drunks wants to see what’s inside, they’ll have to go through dirty laundry and a dozen fast-food bags to learn all my secrets.”
“You have secrets?” Dan didn’t turn on his lights until he pulled onto the highway. The snow fell thick and heavy, making it hard to see, but he knew the road back to Crossroads.
He hadn’t asked her which motel she was staying in. There was only one within twenty miles of the bar.
She tugged a multicolored knit hat down over her ears. “Everyone past puberty has secrets. I figured you’d already know that, Sheriff. You tell me one of yours, and I’ll tell you one of mine.” She grinned as if they were playing a game.
“Right now, you’re my secret. Not that I care if everyone knows we’re going out, if that’s what you call this thing we’re doing, but just for a while I’d like to keep you to myself.”
“Any others?”
“Ladies or secrets?”
“Secrets. A man who hasn’t been kissed since New Year’s Eve a few years ago has no ladies tucked away.”
He figured he must seem pretty pitiful. Brandi probably had a lover in every town. “Nope. I’m pretty much an open book. No secrets or lovers, except you.”
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