Collision Course (5 page)

It was
hot outside but she lowered the window, leaning her elbow on the frame and
letting the sun kiss her skin. She drank in the scent of the
countryside—horseflesh, hay, cattle, the abundant crepe myrtles. Familiar
scents she let wash through her system. Texas aromatherapy. To her left,
undulating waves of russet as a herd of cattle roamed the fenced pasture. To
her right, horses frisked in the open meadow, nickering softly, tossing their
heads.

Despite
everything, she loved it here, no doubt about it. And it was a perfect place to
decompress. But time stood still for her in Connelly, Texas, population ten thousand
and two. She needed to find something to do besides helping her parents out at
the Half ’n Half, the combination restaurant/coffee shop they owned. And
keeping her skills sharp. Something to give her life purpose again.

Not that
she expected she’d need to shoot anyone in Connelly or use her Krav Maga moves
on them. But practicing the martial arts moves had become an integral part of
her daily routine, as if these things defined her.

How
pathetic.

Some
days she felt as if she were stuck in blob of cement, unable to move forward or
backward. If she could just get a handle on what direction her future would
take. But before that could happen, she had to stop being so angry at
everything and everyone and deal with the issues causing her rage. Then she could
decide the most useful application of her skills and proceed from there.

She had
a college degree, for cripes sake, six years with the feds and four in the
Army. There had to be something in there that would appeal to an employer. The
thought of spending the rest of her days at the Half ’n Half depressed her too
much even to contemplate. What if she woke up one day and discovered she’d
faded away, destroyed by the resentment eating away at her.

Maybe a
stint with the sheriff would help her fill in some of the blanks. She’d have to
think about it.

Forty-five
minutes later, showered and changed, she walked into the Half ’n Half, waving
to her mother at the cash register and stopping to give her dad a quick kiss on
his cheek. As usual, the lunchtime customers were jammed wall to wall. Vicki
Bromfield, who’d been working there as long as Casey could remember, skillfully
wove from table to table, taking orders, refilling coffee cups and water
glasses. Delivering orders as soon as they were up on the service counter.
Mouthwatering aromas drifted from the kitchen. Her father’s cooking was second
to none.

Sighing,
she tamped down her emotions, put on her apron and her game face and began
checking on the customers in the coffee shop side. All of them had some form of
computer or tablet open in front of them, eyes glued to the screen.

“Hey,
Casey.” Jim Garnette smiled at her as she brought him another decaf with a shot
of chocolate syrup. “Thought maybe you forgot about us today.”

Retired
and doing genealogy research, Jim had convinced himself his roots traced to the
years of the Texas Revolution. He aimed to prove his eligibility for the Sons
of the Republic of Texas, and he’d been at it for weeks now.

Casey
sighed, wishing she had a goal of her own. But with her head still so screwed
up, she didn’t know if she was capable of defining one.

“Are you
kidding?” She grinned at him. “Aren’t you one of my favorite guys?”

He
snorted. “Yeah? Then you need to spice up your love life.”

No
kidding. But this time around I’ll be a lot more cautious.

As she
headed to the supply area for the coffee house side, she almost bumped into Ben
Russell, all six foot four of him, looking very alpha in his sheriff’s uniform.
His hands came up to rest on her shoulders.

“Planning
to mow me down, were you?” He gave her a crooked grin.

Raising
her eyes to his, she swallowed another sigh. The man was sex on the hoof. Tall,
with thick dark hair, midnight eyes and high slashes for cheekbones. All
muscle. She could practically smell the testosterone seeping from his body.

So why
didn’t he interest her? Had the unpleasant remnants of Paul Marsden’s betrayal
closed her off from the possibility of another relationship? Or worse yet, had
she lost her appetite for men completely?

“Sorry,”
she said, raising her eyes to his. “Just lost in my own thoughts.”

“They
must be pretty mind-boggling,” he joked.

“Not so
much. So what can I do for you, Sheriff?”

“Ben,
please. And I wanted to see if you’d stop by the office later and talk about
staking a volunteer position.”

She
lifted an eyebrow. “You and Ira Willoughby been having conversations about me?”

He eyed
her quizzically. “What makes you say that?”

“I spent
some time at the range earlier, and he talked to me about the same thing. Do
y’all think I need something to do?”

“I have
no idea what you mean.” But a hint of a smile teased at his mouth. “Could you
take a minute and come by? Maybe when you get a break before the dinner crowd.
We could catch a cup of coffee someplace.”

Casey
burst out laughing. “Ben, I live in a swimming pool of coffee all day long.
Besides, if we went anywhere else, my folks would never speak to either one of
us again.”

“Well,
hell. You’re right. Sorry. But will you come by and check it out?” His face
sobered. “Crime’s pretty low in the county but we get a lot of malicious
mischief shit and someone with your skills could be a big help.”

Casey
considered. Should she? She’d have to make it absolutely clear she wasn’t
interested in anything but the work. Period. And it would fill up some of the
empty space in her life. Give her less time to wallow in her own misery.

“Sure.
Okay. Around three-thirty. Sound okay with you?”

“Absolutely.
See you then.” He winked at her as he put his hat on then walked away.

Winked!

He’d
better
not
be getting any ideas.

She
checked the flavoring syrup containers to be sure they were filled and there
was plenty of milk in the small fridge behind the counter. When the lunch rush
ended, she poured two cups of coffee—one for herself and one for her mother—and
took them both out to the cash register. They always found a few minutes to
chat at this time of day. And talking to Claire McIntyre often helped to clear
the mud from her mind.

*****

By eight
o’clock, Trey couldn’t sit still any longer. He saw shadows in every corner and
each sound outside made his stomach knot. He felt like a trapped rat in the
motel room, convinced Bennett or whoever he might send waited for him right
outside the door. A crazy idea brought on by his bad case of nerves. No way
could anyone could have tracked him so fast but he couldn’t keep from jumping
at everything.

As
twitchy as he was, he decided to forego shaving, afraid he might end up cutting
his throat. He showered, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and packed up his gear.

When he
exited his room, he scanned the area before getting into his car. Pulling onto
the street, he watched his rearview and side mirrors for any car following too
closely. He killed a little time at a fast food drive-through to get coffee
then sat in their lot drinking it. He reached the bank without noticing any
tail so he parked in the rear. Only a few minutes to opening. Alert to his
surroundings, he checked out every car pulling into the parking area. So far,
nothing sent up warning flares.

At nine
on the dot, a man in a shirt and tie came to unlock the bank’s rear door. Trey
lifted his duffle, which now also held his laptop, and jogged into the bank.
He’d decided since Bennett would have put a track on his account anyway, he’d
just leave his car in the parking lot. He could catch a cab from the street or,
better yet, he’d seen a bus stop right in front. Much more anonymous.

Getting
the money turned out to be more of a hassle than he expected. Why was it when a
person wanted to make a large withdrawal you practically had to bring a note
from his mother? But at last he had the cash he asked for. Stepping to the
side, he put a couple of hundred in his wallet and the rest in the duffel
beneath his clothes.

He was
headed for the front door and the nearest bus stop when a man entered, gaze
fixed on Trey then shifting away at once. Uh oh. When the man pulled a picture
from his pocket and studied it, as if comparing the faces, warning flares went
up in Trey’s brain.

Shit!
How the fuck had they found him?

Okay,
he’d worry about that later. Right now he needed to get the hell away from the
guy. He eased toward the rear of the bank, putting the early morning crowd
between himself and the men. In the corridor, he put on speed and sprinted for
the back door, knocking over a display rack of brochures to place an obstacle
in their path and slow them down.

But when
he pushed the door open, he found another man standing by his car.

Shit!

Pivoting,
he raced around the corner and down the alley between the bank and the next
building. Fate smiled on him. A bus had just pulled up to the stop and
passengers spilled from the open door. Trey pushed past them and leaped into
the vehicle, pulling some loose change from his pocket.

“You
paid too much,” the driver told him, his voice surly as if Trey was deliberately
annoying him.

“I don’t
care. Keep the change. Just get the bus moving.”

He found
an empty seat by the door and glanced out the rear window. The two men had just
made it to the front of the bank. They’d need time to get to their car and then
try to follow the bus. He figured he had scant minutes before they were tight
on his tail. At that moment the driver turned a corner and pulled to a stop
halfway down the block. Trey leaped off and ran into the first office building
he came to. He watched as the bus pulled away but there didn’t seem to be a car
attached to its rear.

When he
was positive he hadn’t been followed, he walked two blocks to the entrance of a
new hotel. He could catch a cab there and have it take him to the bus station.
There weren’t many people waiting for transportation at the hotel so he had a
taxi within five minutes.

“Greyhound
station,” he told the driver.

The man
turned to stare at him. “You want to take a cab to the bus station?”

“It’s
better than walking. Can we get moving?”

He
shrugged. “You pay, I go.”

Trey
reclined in his seat, knowing he wouldn’t take a full breath until he was
safely out of town.

Chapter Three

Casey
pulled the bill of her baseball cap a little lower to shield her eyes from the
bright morning sun. Six o’clock was early for her to be at the gun range but
with Vicki off today, Casey would be needed for the breakfast rush at the Half
’n Half. Five minutes after the eight o’clock opening, the place would be
jammed, and she wouldn’t get a break until midafternoon. She supposed she could
have skipped her trip to the range today but somehow disturbing her routine
made her uncomfortable. Some days she thought only the routine kept her going.

“You’re
a real early bird today,” a husky male voice said behind her.

Startled,
she almost dropped her gun. She whirled to see Ben Russell walking toward her
from his pickup truck, carrying a black satchel.

“Glad to
see my newest deputy is working on her shooting skills.”

“My god,
don’t sneak up on me like that.” She blew out a breath. “If I’d already loaded
my weapon I might have shot you by mistake.”

“You’d
never shoot by mistake, Casey.” He grinned. “You’re too well trained.”

She
shrugged. “Accidents happen. So what are you doing out here at the crack of
dawn? Don’t you have sheriff things to do?”

He
laughed at her and unzipped his bag. “This
is
one of my ‘sheriff’
things. Keeping up my marksmanship and proficiency.

“Oh,
right,” she mocked. “Because we have so many dangerous criminals in Alvarado
County.”

“Of
course, darlin’. Why do you think I put you on my volunteer list? Figured
knowing a badass like you walked around with a badge would be enough to make
them give up or leave. And for sure scare the teenagers to death.”

“Ha ha.”
Casey glanced at his face and saw a familiar glint in his eyes. She was sure if
she lowered her gaze, she’d see his cock straining the fabric of his pants. Uh
oh. Their meeting the day before had been a good one, and she thought she’d
taken care of any misunderstandings at the time. But today he seemed to forget
the ground rules she’d politely laid down.

Damn!
She didn’t want to screw up the job, even as a volunteer, or put herself at
odds with Ben in a town as small as Connelly. She might want to get laid but
she didn’t want the complications it would bring. No, thank you. Been there,
got the bruises to prove it. She supposed she’d have to play it by ear and be
extra careful she didn’t send him the wrong signals.

She
wished he hadn’t shown up today. Not that he didn’t make for decent company.
But she felt most comfortable by herself. Somehow her four years in the sandbox
had left her disconnected from everything familiar. Oh, she put on a good show
for her folks, knowing how much they worried about her. And she’d become a
master of social niceties during the hours she worked at the Half ’n Half.

But,
alone, she could decompress. And the gun range gave her an excellent
opportunity to work off the anger still simmering beneath the surface. Anger at
many things. At people. At Paul Marsden and Aaron Smart. Having Ben here was a
distraction she didn’t need. She hoped she’d squashed any ideas of a personal
relationship the day before and he’d just decided he needed some extra practice