Don't Mess With Texas (8 page)

“Innocent? Are you sure about that?” Tony asked.

“Yeah. I am.” His confidence rang in his voice, too.

His brother crossed his arms. His eyes pinched and his mouth pulled a little to the right.

“What?” Dallas asked.

“What, what?” Tony said.

“That’s your negotiating face. The last time I saw that look I ended up taking Dad for his colonoscopy. What deal are you going to try to strike with me now?”

Tony continued to stare. “Do you know she told the waiter she was going to kill her husband?”

“Yeah, I know,” Dallas said. “And do you know that she drove straight from the restaurant to the grocery store, which didn’t leave her any time to kill him?”

“Not if she killed him immediately after leaving the restaurant.”

“How would she have gotten him in the trunk?”

“He’s wasn’t that big of a man. I’ve seen smaller women handle that and more.”

They stared at each other until Dallas finally asked, “So what are you chewing on right now?”

“Get her to voluntarily hand over her clothes to be tested for blood spatter.”

“In exchange for what?” Dallas asked, suspicious.

“I won’t arrest her and I’ll keep looking for suspects.”

Dallas crossed his own arms. “Two questions.”

“Shoot.”

“One: Why me? Why don’t you talk her into giving up her clothes?”

Tony grinned. “I’ve haven’t had much practice talking women out of their clothes. Besides, I thought you were helping her. Plus, it’s like you said earlier: you two
bonded.” He held up one hand. “She could have puked on me. But she chose you.”

Dallas didn’t smile. “Two: What is it you’re not telling me?”

Tony’s brown eyes pinched tighter. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t shit me. We both know she wouldn’t be walking out of here unless you had a reason to think she didn’t do this.”

At least Tony had the decency to look guilty. “She thinks her ex was shot.” He raised an eyebrow. “She could have been playing me.”

“But you didn’t think so,” Dallas said.

“Right.”

Dallas continued to stare at him and somehow he knew there was more. “And…?”

Tony sighed. “I got a call from Juan. Ms. Hunt’s an artist, owns a shop off the town square.”

“And as Dad would say, what does that have to do with the price of tomatoes?”

“Juan’s at her gallery now. The employee working at her place was found stabbed. It happened an hour ago. Nikki couldn’t have done it.”

“Told you she was innocent,” Dallas said.

“Of this, yes. Of her ex-husband’s murder, we still don’t know.”

“Come on,” Dallas said. “Are you saying you think this is a coincidence?”

“I have to do my job,” Tony insisted.

As much as Dallas hated admitting it, he knew his brother was doing what he had to do. It didn’t change the fact that what he had to do could possibly put an innocent
person behind bars. “Is the employee dead?” Dallas asked.

“Not yet, but Juan said the medics didn’t seem sure she’d make it. The ambulance is bringing her here. That’s all I know.” Tony’s expression hardened. “When she gets here, you stay out of my way. I accept that you want to help Ms. Hunt, but you need to know that if I find out she has something to do with this, I’m coming after her. If I have to barrel through you to get to her, so be it.”

Dallas looked back toward the ER and wondered how close Nikki was to her employee. If he read her right as the type who treated everyone like family, they were probably close. “Are you planning on telling Nikki?”

“I thought you might like to do that?”

“That’s your job.” Dallas’s gut knotted at the thought of being the bearer of bad news.

“Yeah, but remember I’m the mean bastard.”

“You don’t have to be,” Dallas said.

“She’s a suspect. I can’t go soft on her. She’ll take it better from you.”

“You’re just afraid she’ll start crying.”

“Guilty.” Tony started walking back toward the ER. They continued in silence for the next few seconds before Tony asked, “Did you know LeAnn worked here now?”

“At this hospital?”

“I just spoke with her. When I heard her laugh, I swear I died and went to heaven.”

Tony smiled—a smile like Dallas hadn’t seen on his brother’s face in a long time.

“So it went good?” Dallas asked.

“Not really.” Tony’s smile faded. “She was laughing
with some asshole doctor. But I think I know what I have to do.”

“What’s that?”

“Win her back.” He inhaled. “She looked good. I’m getting her back.” His smile returned, even bolder this time.

Dallas glanced at Tony and wondered if he had that goofy look on his face when he used to talk about Serena. Serena, the woman who’d walked out on him when he’d been accused of murder. Serena, who’d admitted to sleeping with her boss when they were married. God, was he ever one fucked-up idiot. He never wanted to smile like that again.

Never again, he thought. Not that he wished Tony bad luck, but love had made a fool out of Dallas once, and he wasn’t going there again.

“And how do you plan to win her back?” he asked his brother.

“I’m still working on that, but I know this much. For nine months I’ve played by her rules.
Stay away. Give her time. Don’t push
. It hasn’t worked. Now, I play by my rules.”

“And those are?”

“Anything and everything goes,” Tony said.

They arrived back in the emergency room. Dallas looked at the curtained-off area where Nikki waited. “You said the ambulance’s coming here?”

“Yep,” Tony said. “And from what we know, she’s still alive.”

Dallas took a step then stopped. “I hate delivering bad news.”

Tony nudged him. “I’ll be right out here if you need me.”

Dallas knew his brother was a coward. But when it came to dealing with emotionally distraught women, so was Dallas. He remembered the look in Nikki’s big blue eyes when she heard his brother suggest he might arrest her. As the investigating officer, Tony’s job practically mandated he be curt. Nikki Hunt would probably take the news better from him.

Dallas slipped between the curtains to face the music. Only problem, there was no music to face. Nikki Hunt wasn’t there. The IV needle that had once been injected and taped to her wrist, now dangled downward and dripped onto the floor.

A woman’s purse lay open on the hospital bed, some of its contents spilling over the mattress.

He stepped out of the curtained space. Tony met his gaze. “Problems already?”

“Yeah.” Dallas looked up and down the hall. “Just a little one. About five-five, blond, and… very soft.”

“S
HE RAN
?” T
ONY
jerked the curtain back and stared at the empty hospital bed.

“We don’t know that.” But damn it if Dallas’s mind wasn’t moving in that direction. Not that running made her guilty—he still hadn’t changed his mind about her being innocent. He personally knew how it felt to be accused of a crime you didn’t commit. Hell, running had crossed his mind once or twice, too.

“Fuck it!” Tony snapped. “Let’s break up and search for her.”

Tony stormed off and Dallas could hear him drilling the nurses about Nikki’s disappearance. That’s when Dallas’s eyes moved back to the purse and items on the bed. If the woman was running, wouldn’t she have taken her purse or at least her wallet?

He picked up the red wallet and thumbed through it.
Does flat broke mean anything to you?
He recalled her earlier words. Good to her word, he found no cash, not even any loose change. But her debit and credit cards peeked out of the little pockets beside her driver’s license.
He didn’t know a woman alive who would leave home without her credit cards. He studied the purse’s other contents: a tampon, a pen, a crossword puzzle book, a few receipts, a tube of lipstick and blush, a flash drive, a small can of Mace, and a pack of gum.

He snagged a piece of cinnamon gum, and started dropping the items back into her purse. That’s when he realized the one thing that was missing. The thing most women kept as close as their credit cards. A cell phone. And that’s when he pretty much figured what happened. Turning around, he walked out of the ER and looked for the first exit sign.

LeAnn O’Connor, on a much-needed short break, stepped outside of the hospital and walked to the small veranda where employees ate their packed lunches. The eight o’clock sun was gone, but its heat hung on, and the sky was still light. Half-afraid she’d launch into a stress-induced panic attack, she hoped the air outside would make breathing possible. Not that it was the inside air causing her lungs to fail. Nope. Her inability to breathe had nothing to do with air contaminants and everything to do with seeing her husband for the first time in nine months.

She knew facing him was inevitable. She just hadn’t expected it to hurt this much. Or maybe she had. Maybe that’s why she’d been avoiding him. Her hands shook and the hole that existed where her heart used to be seemed emptier, bigger and more painful than ever. Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Heaven help her, but he’d looked good. And when he’d leaned across the counter and invaded her space, he’d smelled good, too. He’d smelled like… home. And that’s
what Tony had always been to her. Home. A sense of belonging, of believing she mattered, of having a special place in this big old world that hadn’t felt so lonely.

Thanks to her sole parent, Colonel Becker, she’d seen a lot of that world. Texas, Florida, New York, California, even Germany and Japan. She’d moved a total of twenty-two times in her life. The day she graduated high school, her father had handed her a checkbook with enough money in it to cover her living expenses and college education. She got birthday cards, Christmas cards and an allowance until she finished college. She’d seen him three times since she’d graduated nursing school. He was, after all, a very busy man. LeAnn hadn’t pressed for more than he’d been willing to give her. But make no mistake, she knew what she had never received from her father and it was the thing Tony gave her. Love and the feeling that she belonged, that she had a home. But then that, too, was ripped away from her.

Reaching up, she brushed a hand across her cheek, still feeling Tony’s touch against her skin. When, she wondered, would she stop loving him? When would she stop missing what they had, and accept her life now? Hadn’t she spent a lifetime accepting? She should be good at it by now.

She’d read about a dozen self-help books and all the bits of advice had started to sound the same. Move on. Let go of the past. Learn to live with the grief.

None of them, however, told her how to do it. How to forgive herself. How to forget.

I’m off Sunday. I’ll be over around ten a.m
. His words played like music in her head.

Closing her eyes, she knew Sunday couldn’t happen. She wouldn’t be there.

Something warm and wet hit the tip of her forehead. She reached up, touched the mess and pulled her hand back. Eww. Bird poo. Looking up, she saw a white pigeon perched on the limb of a tree. “You’re kidding me?” she yelled at the bird.

The dang thing ruffled his feathers and went for a repeat performance. Stunned, she didn’t move fast enough and the second drop of bird shit hit her on the cheek.

“Just freaking great!” She wiped it off, or tried to. More than likely she’d just smeared it across her face.

“Some people think that’s good luck,” a female voice said from behind her.

Swinging around, LeAnn eyed the woman standing there in a hospital gown with a cell phone held to her ear. She held up her finger as if asking for a minute and then spoke into the phone. “Nana? Pick up. Please,” the woman said, sounding almost panicked and then she paused. “Nana, where are you? I didn’t have good reception and the only thing I was able to hear was that there was lots of blood. Is someone hurt? I’m waiting to hear from you. Call me right back.” The woman punched a button on her phone and dropped her hand.

LeAnn noted that the woman’s complexion looked pale. Well, of course she was sick. She was in a hospital gown. The wind kicked up a bit and the woman’s thin hospital gown shifted in the breeze. That’s when LeAnn noticed the blood dripping from the patient’s wrist.

“Are you okay?” LeAnn motioned to the bloody appendage.

“Just the IV,” the woman said. “I sort of forgot about it when I left.” She pointed back to the door. “The connection is bad in there.” She pressed her thumb over her
wrist to staunch the bleeding and then stared down at the phone.

LeAnn eyed the woman’s hand and decided her bleeding wasn’t fatal, but… “Maybe we should get you back inside.”

“Not until I hear from my grandmother. I think something’s wrong.” The blonde looked up. “You have bird poop right…” She touched her cheek.

“I know,” LeAnn said. “And you’re still bleeding. We should get you inside.”

“In a few minutes. I’m sure she’ll call me back.” The woman swayed and quickly sat down on the bench seat. The pigeon in the tree cooed extra loud. The blonde looked up and LeAnn took a step back, not chancing a third hit.