Threat of Exposure. Lynette Eason
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and the men had looked at her with a mixture of disbelief that she’d infiltrated their ranks, and a haughty, arrogant assurance that she wouldn’t be around long.
She’d proven them all wrong and was now a respected and well-thought-of member of Company D. But it definitely hadn’t been an easy road to travel.
And while she might keep her cool and ignore a lot of stuff she considered silly, that didn’t mean she didn’t have a backbone. “Can we focus on what we need to do? You go over that book while I fill out these papers on the shooting.”
He just looked at her for a moment. Then sighed. “Yeah, sure.” He glanced down, then back up. “I didn’t mean to offend you, I was just…concerned.”
“No need to be,” she clipped.
She’d already called Ben and filled him in on the shooting incident. He wasn’t happy at the tap dancing he was going to have to do in order for her to continue her current investigation. After a shooting, an officer was generally placed on administrative leave during the investigation. But Ben had pull in a lot of places. And the videotape from Brock’s car that she’d sent him would go a long way with Internal Affairs.
And he needed Gisella in Boot Hill, Texas, investigating.
After she finished the paperwork, Brock and Gisella spent the next hour and a half bouncing ideas off each other until Brock finally said, “I don’t know. This could go on forever. I say we head to Boot Hill and start asking questions. We can see what turns up.”
“That was my original destination until I was told we were going to be working together.” A thought hit Gisella and she gave a startled laugh.
Brock blinked. “What’s so funny?”
“I just realized that they didn’t exactly send me down here all alone.”
His right brow lifted. “No?”
“Guess that’s why they paired us up. So you can protect me.” She batted her lashes and put on her most helpless expression.
A short laugh escaped him. He snorted, “Well, when you put it that way…” Brock glanced at his watch. “Get that look off your face. If we leave now, we can be there in twenty minutes.”
Gisella turned serious and sucked in a thoughtful breath. “Yeah, let’s do that. I’m going to check in with my boss again and give him an update.”
He stood as she grabbed her phone, excitement lighting his weary eyes. “Then let’s hit the road.”
“Do you have a car? I took a cab from the airport, then borrowed one of the station’s cars to come find you.”
His lips twisted. “Sure, we can use mine. Or rather, the department’s.”
She wondered at the odd look on his face but didn’t ask.
Instead, she looked at the clock. 8:07. She was starving. Her suitcase sat at her feet. “Fine, as long as you promise we’ll get something to eat soon.”
TWO
After a quick stop by Brock’s apartment to throw some things into a small suitcase, the drive to Boot Hill, Texas, took approximately twenty minutes. Upon entering the small town with the sign proudly proclaiming their population to be 1,406, Brock eyed the woman sitting next to him.
She’d been on the phone most of the ride with a fellow Ranger. Levi someone. “How’s our guy in the hospital?” she asked. “Has he come out of the coma yet?”
Coma? Guy in the hospital? Brock shot her a brief glance which she ignored. Seems like she’d neglected to fill him in on a few details.
“Right,” she said. “Keep me in the loop, okay?”
She must have gotten an affirmative response because she said thanks and hung up. To Brock she said, “Sorry, that was my new captain, Ben Fritz.”
“Who’s in the hospital in a coma?” Brock asked.
“We’re not sure who he is.” Gisella reached down into the backpack she’d brought with her and pulled out a water bottle. She held it out to him and he refused. After she took a sip, she said, “We just know that he’s somehow involved with the Lions of Texas and his name is Quin Morton. We haven’t figured out his connection to the Lions yet, but we will. He was there when Captain Pike was murdered in his own home. Before Captain Pike died, we—the Ranger company—had gotten a text that Pike had something major to share with us. We were all to gather at his house so he could fill us in, but when we got there…” She paused and he glanced at her as he pulled into a parking spot in front of The Great Plate, the restaurant he’d heard had good home cooking.
“Yeah?” he prompted.
She cleared her throat. “When we got there, we found our captain dead and another man severely wounded. That man’s been in a coma ever since and we’ve had no luck tracking down who he is. We’re desperate for him to wake up and tell us who shot him and the captain. But so far, no luck.” She grimaced. “And to top that off, someone tried to kill him just a few weeks or so ago so he’s under 24/7 guard right now.”
“Ouch.”
She opened her door and climbed out. He saw her pull the edges of her heavy down coat tighter against her throat. He shivered in his own jacket as they moved toward the warmth of the restaurant. “And this is what you’ve been working on for the past several months?”
“That’s it. We’re making progress, finding clues here and there, but we just can’t seem to grab on to that final piece of information that will allow us to put it all together and capture the top guys.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I know how you feel. I’ve been working the border down here for years, catching the small fish. I just can’t seem to get the information I need to catch the big dogs.”
“And then we’ve got the Alamo celebration coming up in March. Our company is part of the security detail and we believe someone is targeting that celebration for some reason.” She pulled the door open. “Hopefully the answer to that is somewhere in the info on the flash drive.”
As Gisella stepped inside, she breathed in the scents of veggies and coffee. And was that a roast she smelled? Her stomach growled. A sudden longing for her mother’s home cooking swept over her. Please, Lord, let us resolve our differences soon.
Brock stood behind her and for some reason, she was very aware of his presence. So much so that for a few seconds she didn’t realize the noise level in the restaurant had dropped to a dead silence.
Although there weren’t many customers—probably due to the lateness of the hour—all eyes present were focused on the newcomers. Gisella shifted, uncomfortable with the sudden attention. She was used to people staring out of curiosity simply because of her uniform and the fascination people had with Texas Rangers.
However, these stares didn’t feel like that. They felt menacing. Surprised at her somewhat paranoid reaction, she let her eyes roam the restaurant again.
Nope, not paranoid. Unsmiling, stony faces looked back at her.
Then a man in a food-stained apron approached and handed them two menus. “Hey, I’m Angelo Luc—or Pop. I answer to both. Have a seat wherever you want, Krista’ll be around shortly to take yer order. You got here just in time. I’m closing up in thirty minutes.”
“Thanks.” Gisella gripped her menu and made her way over to a booth in the corner. Brock slid in across from her and gradually, the patrons turned their attention back to their meals.
She blew out a breath. “What was that all about?”
“Small town, new faces?” He gestured toward her badge. “A Ranger in town and they want to know why.”
Gisella flushed. “Maybe I should have changed and been a little less conspicuous. Then again, I’m not undercover