Convictions (17 page)

Hank's eyes were closed, and a slight smile framed his lips. Fascinated by how much the expression softened his features, she allowed her gaze to roam, and it settled on his lap. Olivia had rolled her eyes at her friends when they'd talked about men's "packages," but she wasn't rolling her eyes now. Despite her embarrassment, she couldn't help but wonder if he was naturally well-endowed, or if he was having some very pleasant daydreams.

Shaking herself free of the erotic images, Olivia took a deep breath. "Hank?"

His eyes flew open, and she detected a tinge of red touching his tanned cheeks. "What're you doing up so early?"

Hank's voice was husky, and she hoped he wasn't catching a cold after spending so much time in the rain last night.

She tilted her head to the side. "I could ask you the same thing."

He remained seated, which surprised her. Until she glanced briefly at his crotch. Maybe he had a reason for not standing.

Hank shrugged. "I couldn't sleep any longer."

"Same here. Dad and your sister are still sleeping, so I decided to come out and join you. I hope you don't mind."

Disappointment flared within her when it looked like he was going to refuse her company. Then he smiled. "Is one of those for me?" He motioned to the thermal mugs.

"I'm not usually a two-fisted drinker." She grinned and handed him one.

Hank waved to the chair beside him. "Have a seat."

She glanced at the closed door behind them. "We won't wake them, will we?"

He shook his head. "I doubt anything short of an earthquake will bother them."

As they sipped their coffee in comfortable silence, Hank kept his gaze aimed at the mountain peaks. It was safer than focusing on Olivia. He was pretty certain she'd noticed his hard-on but hoped like hell she didn't know she'd starred in his erotic daydreams.

But as pleasant as his thoughts had been, he appreciated her company even more. It'd been a long time since a woman had brought him coffee and spent time with him.

This scene was a world away from prison. It was peaceful and quiet here without the violence that simmered just beneath the surface in the pen. Yet violence was found here, too. A woman's body in the heart of the ranch, and a killer who might be less than a hundred feet away.

Dread gripped him. Had the murder been one of passion? Or something else?

His hand tightened on the mug as he thought of his sister. Was she in danger? What about Olivia?

He opened his mouth to verbalize his fears, but clamped it shut. It was too nice a morning to spoil with talk of murder. There'd be more than enough speculation later.

"Do you like the coffee?" Olivia asked.

"It's good."

"Starbucks—one of my vices. I got used to drinking it in Chicago."

He leaned forward and planted his elbows on his knees. "So how long have you been home?"

"Three months now. It seems like forever since I was in the city."

"Sounds like you miss it."

"I suppose I do. They're holding my job for me."

"As an assistant district attorney?" Some of his contempt for prosecutors slipped out.

She met his gaze head-on. "What's wrong with being an ADA?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, if you enjoy bullying people."

"So you think I enjoy bullying people?" There was a razor edge to her voice he'd never heard before.

He shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

Hank rose and leaned his shoulder against a porch post, staring into the distance.

"I take it your prosecutor bullied you," Olivia said with way too much perception.

"You take it right." It was easier to talk when he wasn't looking at her. "Son of a bitch told the jury I knew all along what Carl was planning. He
implied
I'd even helped plan the robbery."

"He was only doing his job."

"His job sucks."

"His job is to put away criminals so they aren't a threat to innocent people."

"But what about when they put innocent people away?"

There was an uncomfortable lull before Olivia said, "It happens."

Hank bit down on his lower lip so he wouldn't say something he'd regret later. Although he'd confided in Olivia more than he had anyone in over six years, she was still the boss's daughter. She had the power to send him back to hell if she chose to do so. All it would take was a few well-chosen words to Daddy.

"Dad told me you were involved in the wild horse program at the prison," Olivia said.

Surprised she'd changed the subject, he turned to face her. When he spotted only curiosity in her face, he relaxed. "That's right."

"I've only read a little about it. How does it work?"

"The government sponsors wild horse roundups each year. We get some of them at the prison, and our job is to tame them so they'll be adopted instead of euthanatized."

"It sounds like a mutually favorable program."

Hank shrugged. "I suppose." He gazed down into his coffee. "Some of the mustangs can't adapt to being captured and imprisoned. Those have to be put down."

He had seen the same type of thing happen among the convicts, only they hanged themselves with sheets or slashed their wrists with a shiv.

"They sound a lot like people," Olivia said, echoing his thoughts.

He shrugged. "Strip away our freedom, and people are nothing more than animals."

Her face became thoughtful. "Yes, I suppose." Then she smiled crookedly and tried to lighten the mood. "When it boils down to it, all living things came from the same primordial ooze."

Hank chuckled. "And in prison, a lot of them ooze right back into it."

"You were in six years. Why didn't you?"

His amusement fled. "Dawn. She was all I had." He paused and added in a low, bitter tone, "And then she left."

"But you didn't..." Olivia seemed at a loss for words.

"No, I didn't," he said flatly. He calmed himself. "Then I had the horses."

Olivia stood and joined him, so close he could smell the herbal scent of her hair. Out of self-preservation, he shifted farther away from her beguiling scent.

"I'm going to walk around and try to work out the stiffness in my leg. If you're not doing anything, I wouldn't mind the company," she said.

"Sure."

Her smile of gratitude sent a shock of awareness straight to his groin. If her smile was that potent, he wondered what he'd do if he actually kissed her. It was humiliating to even think about. Yet he couldn't brush away the thought.

They left their empty coffee mugs on the rail. He guided her down the steps, his slightly trembling hand grazing her lower back.

You're going to have to learn how to treat a lady all over again, Elliott.

He matched his pace to Olivia's uneven one.

"My limp is always worse in the morning," she admitted.

"After last night, it's probably worse than usual."

She nodded. "We'll have to drive in to Walden to give our statements to Sheriff Jordan today."

"Yeah, I know." Hank wished they could've ignored the inevitable for a little longer. "I'm sure I'll be grilled about where I was when she was murdered."

Olivia sighed. "I know, and I'm sorry. Fair or not, you and your fellow prisoners are going to be at the top of their suspect list."

"Nothing new there."

Olivia stopped and placed her hand on his bare forearm, sending shocks of awareness arcing through him. "If you're innocent, you have nothing to worry about."

He laughed, the sound sharp and cutting. "They told me that the last time I gave a statement, too. Hell of a lot of good it did."

Her lips pressed together tightly, and her brow creased. "What's with the attitude?"

"Look, I've been through our so-called justice system once, and I sure as hell don't want to experience it again."

Olivia raised her hands, palms out. "You're getting way ahead of yourself, Hank. Even if you had the opportunity, you have no motive. He has no reason to book you."

Irrational bitterness spilled through him. "Doubt if that'll stop him. Once a criminal..." He paused by the corral.

The stallion stood in the center of the enclosure, pawing at the ground and tossing his head.

Olivia stood beside Hank and grasped the top corral pole. She remained silent, but she was chewing her lower lip, and he could tell her mind was racing.

"Was Dawn all right last night?" Hank asked before she could defend her precious legal system.

Olivia seemed startled by the question. "Cold and tired, but not hurt. Didn't you talk to her?"

He tamped down his frustration and shrugged, "Tried to. Just said she was fine."

"Give her time. She'll come around. You're still her big brother."

Hank grunted at her platitudes. "She could've been killed last night, like that reporter woman." He leveled his gaze at her. "Unless you think I'm the murderer."

Her cheeks flushed. "I never said that."

He took a step toward her and felt a measure of satisfaction when she had to tilt her head back to look at him. Some perverse part of him wanted to push her, to make her admit that she believed him. "You've talked all about motive and opportunity, but not innocence." Her gaze skittered away, and Hank hid his hurt behind a mask of resentment. "Maybe you'd better run back to the house so Daddy can protect you."

Her head snapped up, and anger sparked from her blue eyes. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Maybe you should be."

Doubt flitted across her features, but she didn't back down. "Don't pull any of that hard-ass crap on me, Hank. You're pissed off at the world because you've spent the last six years in prison for a crime you didn't commit." She jabbed his chest with her forefinger. "But I'm not going to be your whipping boy." She clamped her mouth shut and visibly calmed herself. "If the sheriff tries to pin this on you, I'll be in your corner. Believe it or not, I'm on your side."

Hank stared down into her impassioned face, admiring the fire in her eyes. He'd gotten what he'd wanted from her. Or at least, part of what he wanted. His gaze slid down her face and over the baggy sweatshirt that hid the fullness of her breasts. He could almost feel their soft plumpness in his palms and taste the sweetness of her skin. Would she be as passionate in bed as she was at defending him?

He cleared his throat and his mind, then met her steady gaze. "Thank you."

Olivia smiled. "You're welcome." Her analytical lawyer look returned. "It's possible the murderer might have been someone passing through. More than likely, he stole Melinda's car and is miles away by now."

"Is that speculation or hope?"

"Both." Her expression turned fierce. "Then again, if it was one of the prisoners, it's going to hurt Dad. He's put his heart and soul into the work release program."

"Liv."

Olivia heard her father's call and spotted him striding toward them, dressed in his work clothes.

"Morning, Dad. What's up?" she asked.

"Caleb called. He wants you and Hank in his office by eleven thirty."

Olivia glanced at her wristwatch. "That only gives us an hour."

"Then you'd better get going. Have you eaten breakfast?"

She shook her head. "We'll get something in town. What about you?"

He shrugged. "I'll scrounge something from the cookhouse with the men. Then I'm going to see how much damage the rain caused and hope we didn't lose any cattle."

Although she didn't like her father driving around the ranch by himself, especially with a murderer loose, she nodded. But it didn't stop the worry from knotting her stomach.

"I have to change. I'll meet you in about ten minutes," Olivia said to Hank.

She went back to he house and exchanged her sweatshirt for a white blouse with a light blue scoop-necked knit shirt underneath it. Brushing on some blush and mascara for the first time in weeks, she scowled at her reflection.

"Okay, so I'm putting on some makeup. What's the big deal? It's not a crime," she muttered.

Fortunately, the woman in the mirror didn't comment.

She returned to her bedroom and heard padded footsteps. Glancing up, she saw Dawn dressed in an oversized T-shirt and white socks shuffle past the bedroom door.

"Morning, Dawn," she called to the girl.

Dawn backed up two steps and peered at Olivia. The younger woman's hair was frizzed, and her eyes looked half-closed.

"Where are you going?" Dawn asked.

"Walden." Suddenly Olivia realized she might be able to use the trip to bring the siblings together. "Would you like to come?"

"Now?"

"If you can be ready in ten minutes, you can ride with us."

Dawn suddenly looked more awake. "Us? Who else is going?"

"Just your brother."

She shook her head vehemently. "No way."

Olivia mentally kicked herself but tried to keep a casual front. "C'mon, he really wants to make things up to you."

"It's too late for that." Dawn disappeared down the hall and a few moments later, Olivia heard the bathroom door close.

She sighed.

I tried.

After one last critical look in the mirror, she grabbed her purse and limped outside. Her father was standing beside his SUV. He tossed her the keys.

"Take my car. It'll be more comfortable," he said.

She grinned crookedly as she flipped the keys in her palm. "Thanks." She glanced around. "I figured Hank would be waiting impatiently."

"He'll be ready in a few minutes. I loaned him a shirt."

"He won't be wearing his prison-issued one? Isn't that against the regulations?"

Her father shrugged, but his eyes twinkled. "Sue me."

She laughed. "You like him, don't you?"

"Out of all the inmates I've had go through here, he shows the most promise. But he has to let go of his anger and bitterness if he's going to make something of his life."

Olivia recalled Hank's defensiveness and understood too well. "I like him, too, Dad."

Her father canted an eyebrow. "Even if he is a convict?"

"Sue me," she tossed back at him.

He chuckled, then grew serious. "Don't let the sheriff bully him. Caleb's a good man, but he's never had to deal with a murder in his jurisdiction, and Hank makes too good a suspect."