Look Before You Jump (20 page)

That got me a chuckle. “So how does that
constitute less instead of more?”

“Mom called Reggie, and his team cleared out
the place. I’m talking cleared out and cleaned up as if I’d never
lived there. Someone else could move in at this point…well, if
there were any kitchen cabinets left.”

“A free makeover courtesy of your mom,” Zeke
said. “That’s cool.”

“No it’s not,” I whined. “No food. No
furniture. Not even a mattress to sleep on. I’ve become a homeless
vagrant.”

“You’re not homeless. You and the cat can
stay here as long as you need. I’ll even let you sleep on my
mattress tonight.”

“Oh huh-uh. I’ll have to find some other way
to pay you back.”

“Relax,” Zeke said as he got up and took his
plate to the kitchen. “I’ll be gone. You’ll have the whole place to
yourself tonight.”

The retort died on my lips. Did Ranger Boy
have a girlfriend? If so, he’d failed to mention it when he’d
hog-tied me into the little recon trip to Austin. Then there were
the kisses in the elevator and the clenching in my hallway. ‘Course
I already knew Zeke was the two-timing type, but I’d never imagined
being the two-time’er instead of the two-time’ee. Or is that the
other way around?

I lurched to my feet. “Does she know I stayed
here last night?”

“What? Who?”

“Your girlfriend!”

“Gee Vic,” he said. “Do you really think
I’d…?”

“You’ve done it before,” I accused.

Full lips thinned into a firm line. Eyes
hardened into dark orbs. “If you must know, I’m conducting a
stake-out tonight. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get a few
hours of sleep.” He walked past the couch toward the bedroom.

“Zeke, I didn’t mean…”

“The spare key is on the kitchen counter.
I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, Zeke slammed the bedroom door
shut. Sometimes I wished I could do the same thing to my lips. You
know, before I said stupid things. Put my foot in my mouth.

Damn disease.

Saturday evening traffic moved along at a
satisfying clip. One thing I love about Texas is that the speed
limit is more a suggestion than an actual ticketed offense.
Out-of-towners are more likely to get a fine for going below the
minimum
posted speed limit. That’s right – around these
parts you better make sure you’ve got enough hitch in your giddyup
or you’ll pay for going too slow. ‘Cept during rush hour – you
remember, that misnomer I mentioned. At this rate, I’d be way early
for certain.

After getting the evil eye from Zeke, I’d
wanted nothing more than to get ready for work and skedaddle out of
there. The more I thought about our exchange, the more I realized
how much my words had hurt the guy. I mean, he had devastated me
once before by two-timing me – but that was more than two years
ago. Then I went and accused him of using me as a cheatable offense
on a non-existent girlfriend now.

It was obvious I hadn’t forgiven Zeke. I was
holding onto the past like a druggie to his pipe and needles just
waiting for the next fix. Maybe he’d changed – learned from the
mistakes he’d made with me. If Bobby and Amy could let go of their
pasts, why couldn’t I?

The thought of Amy’s death sent me into deep
thought. Because of my big mouth, the police had reopened the case
and reclassified it as a murder instead of a suicide. Because of my
big mouth, they thought Bobby responsible for his wife’s death.
Because of my big mouth, Zeke had dragged me to Austin to discover
connections between Amy and a known cartel. What did all of these
events have in common?

Besides my big mouth.

I only had an inkling of a clue – but
something told me Zeke saw the bigger picture. Something to do with
tonight’s stakeout. Bobby still had suspicion hanging over his head
– and he’d asked me to help find out who had killed Amy. That meant
I needed inside information.

Horns honked, tires squealed, and rubber
burned as I slung the Vette across three lanes of traffic to exit
before turning around to head back in the direction I’d come. Just
like Bobby, I had a new mission.

So much for getting to work early.

***

With the entire gang on tap every Saturday
night, I had the delusion I might get away from the bar ahead of
schedule. That idea went out the window about the time Bud
disappeared a good half hour before closing, about the same time
when the night’s hookups made their escape and the crowd thinned.
My mood had soured by then anyway.

Since the remainder of the evening’s
activities dictated sobriety, I’d held my libations to one measly
beer all night. Count ‘em – one. A non-inebriated Vicki made for a
boring and cranky Vicki. The music seemed dull. The customers
uninteresting. Conversations with my co-workers stilted. Even
Grady’s advancements left me cold.

Was this what I had to look forward to in a
life without sex?

Please, oh please don’t answer that.

When old Wanker offered the final call and
Rochelle and Baby gathered glasses, Grady sidled up and pressed in
behind me with a nip at my ear. “Something on your mind, Vic?”

Warm breath didn’t trigger the usual response
in my nether regions as I continued rinsing out a tray of dirty
beer glasses and loading them in the dishwasher. “Just the usual,”
I responded.

“Ah,” Grady replied. “Bud leaving early.”

“No,” I said behind gritted teeth, letting my
exasperation show.

“Headache?”

“No.”

“Stomachache?”

“No.”

“That time of the month?”

My elbow to his ribs and a face-full of suds
made Grady release me with a spit and a chuckle.

“None of your business, but no,” I
responded.

He turned me around to face him, dark eyes
growing serious. “I’ve noticed that Nick guy hasn’t been around
this week. Did y’all have a fight or somethin’?”

“He’s been out of town.”

A tilt of the mustache. “I’m available.”

I flipped a towel at him with a snap.
“Thanks, but I don’t need any further complications right now.”

“Roll reversal time then. The patron usually
spills to the bartender, so maybe the bartender needs to spill to
the patron this time.”

“But you’re not a patron,” I said. “You’re
the proprietor.”

“They both start with
p
, Miss
Smart-Ass,” Grady said, turning around and leaning against the
nearby counter for a more direct view. “So tell me what’s on your
mind. Does this have something to do with a certain Ranger?”

“A little.” I paused, unsure how much I
should reveal. Aw, screw it. “We’ve got a mutual friend who’s been
in some trouble. Accused of killing his wife.”

“Is this about that pastor on the news?”

So much for worrying about a great big and
mysterious reveal. Never would’ve taken Grady for a newshound,
especially with the odd hours we all kept. He probably made heavy
use of his DVR to catch the ten o’clock news. Or maybe he was
catching the online newsfeeds when he holed up in his office.

I nodded. “Zeke played basketball with him in
high school, and Bobby and I…let’s just say we have a long
history.”

“Long history as in…”

“As in firmly lodged in the past where it
belongs,” I barked.

That got me a smirk that raised his brows.
Too bad it didn’t get me a raise in pay though. I really could’ve
used the extra cash at this point.

“So this isn’t about getting together with
Zeke again?”

“No! Where did you get such an idea?”

Grady shrugged. “I assumed something was
percolating between y’all again when he asked ya to go to
Austin.”

“Believe me,” I assured. “There’s nothing
percolating between the two of us.”

Besides the elevator moment. And the hallway.
Last night?

“What was the trip for then?” Grady
asked.

“Zeke thinks there’s a tie between Bobby’s
wife’s death and a case he’s working on.”

“And he needed
your
help?”

I could take offense to that little emphasis
but decided to let it go and move on. If only I could do the same
with the ex. “Rangers investigate only within their mandate, unless
there’s a link to an outside case.”

“So how does her death tie to his case?”

“Can’t answer that,” I responded.

“What is his case?” he asked.

“Can’t answer that either.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“I plead the fifth,” I responded.

Very mysterious. Very Bond’esque. Let the man
wonder, though I still had no idea exactly what Zeke’s case was all
about, which was probably a good thing. Considering the Juarez name
connecting a Mexican drug cartel to Amy, I had a high degree of
suspicion it pertained to drugs.

Plus this is Texas. What else is new,
huh?

I got the onceover before Grady pronounced
sentence. “Ya gonna be okay to drive tonight?”

“More than okay,” I said. “I limited myself
to one beer tonight.”

“All that religious association having an
effect on ya, Vic?”

“Nah, just have something I need to do when I
leave is all.”

The joking cast aside and dissipated in the
air like the alcohol in a flaming vodka tonic. Grady grew serious
again with the set of his jaw and the straightening of his
shoulders. “You be careful then.”

A shiver passed up my spine as Grady walked
away. I’d never known him to be so serious like that. It was almost
as if his military bearing had come back to haunt him.

I shook it off, finished off the night, and
walked with the staff to our cars. Grady remained behind in his
office. At the bar. Alone.

After pulling into a well-lit
twenty-four-hour convenience store parking lot, I dragged my
earlier new purchase from underneath the passenger seat. The laptop
powered up and glowed in the darkened interior of my car.

One benefit of carrying the Bohanan name? It
was pretty well-known in elite stores around the area – even among
the tech crowd. Mom had accounts set up across the metroplex, where
acceptable members of the household staff could pick up things for
the family and have a bill forwarded at the end of the month. The
approved list rarely changed, my mom much more loyal to her staff
than the elder Vernets were with theirs. I’d taken a real chance in
assuming my parents hadn’t removed my name from said list after
moving out. But the balding manager in electronics recognized me
and didn’t even bother checking to see if I was still
acceptable
in their eyes.

One bullet dodged.

Hey, I needed a new computer anyway after
mine had been thrashed and trashed during the break-in. No need to
wait for my mom to buy the inevitable. The manager had even loaded
the tracking software and given me a brief tutorial. I only hoped
the device on Zeke’s truck hadn’t fallen off on a back road
somewhere. Or that he’d gone out of range.

The program opened and a red dot blinked in
rapid succession – stationary, which told me Zeke was onsite at his
stakeout. The distance from town said I’d better fill up before
leaving the c-store parking lot, if I didn’t want Zeke to have to
rescue a stranded damsel in distress later. It’d be best if I could
just hide out and watch him watching – supervise him watching? Oh
whatever. As long as I hightailed my carcass back to his apartment
once I was done watching, Zeke could continue to delude himself
into thinking I was unconcerned and unaware of his case. That way I
could dodge bullet number two that night.

Along the highway I made good time. Once on a
side road, I had to slow down a bit to avoid the occasional
roadkill or pothole. But my poor baby car was not prepared for
rutted and washed-out dirt roads. Dust swirled in my wake. Rocks
pinged the paint job. The undercarriage intermittently dragged. I
cringed every time like Janine used to do when a singer would
screech a high note in church or be slightly off-key. Personally, I
never could tell the difference. Guess you have to be a true
musician to hear it. And be bothered by it.

But I digress.

If not for the tracking device, I’d have
missed the barely discernable turnoff. Trees and brush choked what
looked like little more than an old cattle trail. After skidding to
a stop, I backed up and pulled my baby in close to the trees behind
Zeke’s truck and another vehicle, trying not to add any scratches
to my already suffering exterior. The nails-on-the-chalkboard
screech told me I hadn’t succeeded.

Crickets chirped as I snuck down the trail,
keeping close to the trees until walking through the remnants of
Charlotte’s web. In panty-piddling fear, I lurched from the trees,
tripped on a rock, and tumbled into a dust and leaf-encrusted rut
before grabbing my twisted ankle.

But I didn’t cry out, mind you. My lips
remained firmly pressed together, with a metallic tang on my
tongue. As I furiously brushed off hair and clothes, I could only
hope the web had been unoccupied when I’d crashed the party.

A strap on my sandal had broken in my
headlong fall. Scratches on my legs and arms burned – or was that a
spider bite? Just great. Why hadn’t I thought to wear more
appropriate gear for this stakeout? Probably because this city girl
hadn’t realized the stakeout would be in the countryside. This was
the Taylor family’s neck of the woods – not mine.

As I stepped and slid my way along the trail
like Frankenstein’s hunchbacked assistant, darkness closed in
around me. Clouds rolled in and intermittently obscured the quarter
moon. The tree canopy thickened. Something slithered through the
nearby underbrush. I tried desperately to come up with a song in my
head to shut out the rising panic, but all that came to mind was
Itsy-Bitsy Spider
.

I could really use a drink about now. My
heart pounded so hard I just knew it had to be audible. Cold sweat
trickled down my brow – and that’s saying something for June in
Texas. No telling what I might step on out here. At this point, I
wasn’t opposed to it being more along the cow-patty variety. At
least that crap wasn’t alive.