24 Karat Ammunition. Joanna Wayne
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you’d like hard copy.”
“We barely have indoor plumbing here.” He stepped outside the door so that Trish wouldn’t overhear his next question. “Did you get any information on Trish Cantrell?”
“She bought the Cottage Boutique five years ago after moving to the States from London. No police record. Not even an unpaid parking ticket. So are you heading back to Houston today?”
“That’s the plan. I’ll give you a call later.” He thanked Aidan again, broke the connection and went back inside.
Trish had showered and was dressed in the same clothes she’d had on last night. The shorts showed off her tan and terrific thighs and the pale pink T-shirt fit just snug enough to cup beneath her breasts. Her hair was still damp but curling about her cheeks.
He forced his gaze away. The close quarters were definitely getting to him. “I could use some breakfast,” he said.
“I still have an apple.”
“I’m thinking more like bacon and eggs.”
“I could go for that. I’m starved, and I actually got some sound sleep last night for the first time since the carjacking.”
“Good.”
“And I’ve made some decisions.” She propped her bottom on the arm of the faded sofa. “I’ll hire a private investigator to look into the mystery tape and a bodyguard to protect me until I know exactly who’s behind all of this.”
And just like that he’d be out of her life again. He should feel relieved, but his knee-jerk reaction felt more like a punch to the gut. “What about Gina?”
“I’ll hire a bodyguard for her, too. Now shall we go somewhere and find breakfast? I’d like to head back to Dallas as soon as possible.”
His cell phone ran. Aidan, again. He took the call.
“Breaking news,” Aidan said. “I just heard from a friend with the DPD that Selena Hernandez’s body was found minutes ago inside the Cottage Boutique. She was shot twice in the head at close range. A cop found her when he answered a silent alarm she’d apparently set off before she was shot.”
“Sonofabitch.”
“Yeah. Looks like Trish Cantrell is playing with some real sweet guys. I’ll get back to you as soon as I hear anything else.”
Langston was trying to decide how to break the news to Trish when his phone rang again. This time it was Celeste. He let it ring. She’d never understand why he was bringing an old girlfriend involved with a killer home with him.
Chapter Five
Trish fought the panic. This was a nightmare, a horrible terrifying nightmare that she’d wake from any second. Only she didn’t wake, not even when she stepped out of her shoes and into the shallow water at the lake’s edge and her toes sank into the mud.
She stared out at the lake as the sun beat down on her back and the weight of the humid air clogged her lungs. A hand pressed into her shoulder. She didn’t bother to turn around. “Get out of here, Langston, while you still can. I had no right to pull you into my problems.”
“It’s a little late to think about that.”
Finally she met his burning gaze. “Just go, please. Just go.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“You can. You should.” Her voice broke and the tears she’d been fighting welled in her eyes.
“I don’t run out on a task just because it gets tough. But you have to level with me. I have to know the whole truth.”
The anger hit hard, knocking her from the state of semi-shock. “I have told you the truth, Langston. I’ve told everyone the truth. And I never asked for you to take this on.” The anger meshed with the heartache over Selena, and she gave up on fighting the tears. They poured from her eyes and slid down her face. Trembling, she turned back to stare at the lake.
Langston shed his own shoes, rolled up his jeans and joined her in the water. “Take it easy. I’m trying to understand, but that carjacking story is a little hard to swallow.”
“Go to hell, Langston Collingsworth.”
“Look, I’m sorry if I sound doubtful. I’m just trying to get a handle on this.”
She tried to pull away from him, but he tightened his grip on her shoulders, pulling her close and then circling his arms around her. The sobs tore from her throat, and she fell against him, hating that she needed him, yet holding on as he rocked her in his arms.
He didn’t say anything else, and she didn’t have the energy to argue. When she finally stopped crying, he loosed his grip and took her hand, leading her back toward the cabin.
“I have to go back to Dallas,” she said. “I have to see Selena’s boyfriend. Enrico will fall apart when he gets the news. They were so in love.”
“Going back to Dallas is not a good idea.”
“It’s where I live. And there’s the boutique. I have to check on it.”
“I can have someone go to the shop and put up a Closed sign. The cops probably have it staked off with crime scene tape anyway, and I’m sure they’ll be looking for you by now.”
She shuddered. “To talk to me, or to kill me?”
“Hopefully just to talk, and, remember, you don’t have any real proof that Gary Packard was the guy who broke into your house. You admitted he had on a mask that hid all his facial features.”
“So what do you think I should do?”
“Talk to a lawyer.”
Her head spun. She didn’t need a lawyer. This was all some horrible mistake, what Selena would call… But Selena was dead. The pain gripped her again, leaving her so shaken she could barely think. “I have to call Enrico.”
“You can call him, but I think it’s best if you don’t tell anyone that you’ll be staying at Jack’s Bluff.”
For a second she thought she’d heard him wrong. Only the words were still there, rumbling through her mind, prying loose old memories. “I can’t go to your family’s ranch.”
“You have a better idea?”
None came to mind. But she couldn’t become that entangled with Langston. It was too risky—for lots of reasons. She’d go with him, but only to pick up Gina. After that, she’d have to handle this on her own.
Back to Jack’s Bluff. Back to the memories. Back to Langston. This was the last thing she needed now. And the only thing that made sense.
THEY LEFT TRISH’S RENTAL at the camp and took the Porsche to Jack’s Bluff. Langston kept his eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel as he dealt with I-45 traffic and talked into the hands-free phone. This was his fifth call from Melvin since they’d left Dallas. The timing for being out of the office couldn’t be worse. “We’ll need a full risk analysis on that project,” he said as passed an eighteen-wheeler that was hogging the road.
“Do you want it done in-house?”
“No. Hire the risk analysis consultant we used on the last project. She nailed the political implications on the head.”
“Angie McLaughlin. I’ll give her a call today.”
“And get me the latest data on Delaney’s drilling project off the Louisiana coast. I’d hoped to have that up and pumping before hurricane season.”
“I talked to Delaney this morning. He’s blaming everyone but the Pope for the delays. Says he’ll need at least two more weeks and that’s only if the tropical storm in the Atlantic doesn’t move into the Gulf.”
“In the meantime he’s running seriously