Texas Hustle (24 page)

“I can’t. I have to go tonight. I have to make sure no one was hurt.” Her vision blurred as tears rose in her eyes. “This is all my fault.”

“Hey.” He pulled her to him and held her head to his chest. “No. It’s not your fault. These things happen.”

It was Slade. She had no proof, but in her gut she was sure. Bastard had warned her, hadn’t he? He’d said he would ruin her if she didn’t pay up. Burning her out might be his first move. Getting others involved would put them within his wrecking-ball reach, and she didn’t want anyone else hurt.

When the gunshots had been fired at camp and she’d feared it was Slade, she’d started to tell Darren and the sheriff her suspicions. However, when it had turned out to be kids and she reread Slade’s messages, she’d decided he wanted money, not her dead. And really, looking through his texts, he’d put nothing in them that could be construed as threatening. Sure, he talked tough, but a private conversation came down to he said-she said.

Rebuilding her bakery in another location wasn’t really an option. Every penny she would get from insurance and the small amount she’d been saving for a horse would go to paying Slade off so he’d just go away.

And maybe after the two romantic weddings the past two weekends, the idea that she could get the money from her trust by marrying Darren had crossed her mind…for about five seconds. She cared about him too much to do something that despicable. Going into a marriage for money was wrong, even one where the couple had deep feelings for each other.

She had a feeling that if she told Darren about Slade’s demands, he would insist on giving her the money, but that wasn’t the answer. This was her mess to clean up, no one else’s. She sighed.

One night. One mistake. Her life forever affected. She pushed away from Darren. “I have to go.” She gave him a quick kiss. “Understand, okay? This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I’ll never sleep tonight and I’ll go nuts until I see all my employees are safe. And I have to see my bakery.” Her voice broke during the last statement.

Her bakery.

Something she’d built with her own blood, sweat and tears, and now it was gone. Destroyed by an immoral man with nothing left to lose.

She rushed up the steps and through the cabin to the bedroom. In less than ten minutes, she’d stuffed everything into her luggage and was hauling them to the living room. Darren sat on the sofa looking both forlorn and angry.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You have to understand. If this were your ranch, you’d be headed out too.”

“I understand you have to go. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself for drinking too many beers to drive you there myself.” He leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. “I should be going with you.”

“Then come on. Somehow we’ll get your truck home. Reno can take the ATVs home.”

A knock at the door interrupted her. Expecting it to be Marc, she called, “Come in.”

Nadine and Clint hurried through the door.

“Oh, my dear,” Nadine said as she hugged Porchia. “We just heard. I am so sorry. What can we do?”

“Nothing, but thank you. I’m leaving tonight. Riding back with Marc.”

“Can’t you wait until the morning?” Clint asked, concern etched on his face. He looked so much like Darren right now it hurt.

“I can’t. I just can’t.”

Darren stood. “I’m going with them. Mom, will you pack up my clothes and get them to Whispering Springs?” He glanced toward Porchia. “Maybe to Porchia’s house?”

Porchia nodded in agreement.

“Sure,” his mother said. “What about your truck?”

Darren turned toward his father, who nodded. “I’ll get your truck back to town. You go with your lady. She needs you. We’ll handle everything here.”

Relief flooded through Porchia. Once again, Darren’s family had come through when he needed them.

“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the two bags she’d set by the door.

Porchia hugged Nadine. “Thank you,” she said in a teary voice. She kissed Clint’s cheek. “Thank you both.”

Porchia scooped up her purse and headed down the stairs behind Darren. The rest of the family was waiting outside to see them off. She wanted to hug each and every one of them for welcoming her and making her feel so at home, and maybe someday she would. But right now, Marc was pulling his truck and fifth wheel out of its parking spot and she’d be damned if he’d leave without them.

Stretched out on the rear seat of Marc’s truck, Porchia was asleep within thirty minutes of leaving the campground, more like she’d cried herself to sleep. Darren threw his jacket over her and turned back around.

“Any idea what started the fire?” Darren asked.

Marc nodded toward the back. “She asleep?”

“Yep. Passed out cold.”

“Initial report is it looks like arson. We’ll know more once we get an arson investigator in.”

“We have an arson investigator in Whispering Springs?”

“Naw. Getting someone from the state crime lab to come take a look. You got any idea who’d want to burn her out of business?”

Darren shook his head. “No. None. You?”

“No. I’ve never heard anything negative about Porchia or her business. This doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“Maybe someone wanting her out of business so they can come in?”

“I don’t think so. It wouldn’t make sense. There can’t be enough money in the bakery business to make it worth their while. Now if we were talking oil or cattle, sure. But pastries? Just can’t see it.”

Darren glanced over his shoulder to make sure Porchia was still asleep. Her breathing was steady. Her eyes were shut and still. Great. She was still out of it.

“You haven’t said anything about someone being injured in the fire, but I’ve got the feeling you were holding something back.”

Marc didn’t reply for a long time. Finally, he said, “That nighttime baker. James I think her last name is. She was there when the fire started. She has burns, but nothing serious. I think she knows more than she is telling.”

“Do you think she might have started it? Some conflict with Porchia that we don’t know about?”

Marc shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe. Or maybe the chick is a psychopath. Nobody knows much about her. She is hardly ever seen around town. Anyway, I thought it would be a good idea to get back before she gets her story set in her mind. Plus, I want to see the bakery the first thing in the morning.”

As they parked in the departmental lot of the sheriff’s department over an hour later, Darren reached over the seat and touched Porchia’s shoulder.

“Hey. Wake up.”

A sleepy smile grew on her face. Then her eyes flew open and she jerked upright.

“Where are we?” she asked, shaking her head as if to jiggle the sleep away.

“We’re at the sheriff’s department.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

“Hold on, Porchia,” Marc said. “I need to go in and get a report before we head over. And I need to grab the keys to my car.”

“You may need a report and a car, but I don’t.” She opened the rear door. “I’m walking. I’ll meet you there.”

Darren saw the determination in her eyes. Even though it was just after four in the morning, she was determined, even if that meant she went by herself. He couldn’t let her go charging down to her bakery alone. It wasn’t safe. She had no idea that the fire was probably arson. From his way of thinking, that meant someone had a serious grudge against Porchia, or possibly someone else who worked there. The arsonist could still be around just waiting to get another chance to cause trouble. Well, that wasn’t happening on his watch.

“Wait a minute,” Darren said. “It’s too dangerous for you to walk by yourself at this hour. Give Marc a chance to find out what’s going on.” When he saw that didn’t convince her, he added, “We need to check on Mallory before we go too.”

That stopped her dead. She whirled around and glared at Marc. “You said no one was there.”

“No, I never said that. Your employee, Mallory James, was in the bakery when the fire started.”

Porchia closed her eyes. Darren caught her shoulders as she swayed. “Is Mallory dead?” Her shoulders were as rigid as bricks.

“No. She got burned, but the report I got was that it wasn’t serious. I need all the information my deputies have before we go down there.”

She took a few long, deep breaths as though steeling herself. “Okay.” She stared into Marc’s face. “I want all the information too.”

Turning on her boot heel, she marched through the back door of the sheriff’s department with Marc and Darren trailing in her wake. Darren couldn’t help but admire her grit and determination. She made love like she lived life…full-out, no holds barred. In the sheriff’s office or in the bedroom, she was a force to be reckoned with, and damn if that didn’t make him want her all the more.

“Sheriff.” The threesome turned toward the male voice.

“Brody,” Marc said. “Want to bring me—us—up to date?”

Sam Brody was a new hire to the department. From what Darren had heard, he’d come from the Dallas Police Department looking for a quieter lifestyle. Arson might not be exactly what he was expecting in sleepy Whispering Springs.

“Sure thing, Sheriff.” He nodded to Porchia. “Sorry about the bakery, Porchia.”

“Thanks, Sam.”

Darren was surprised that Porchia knew Sam, but then he realized she probably knew most of the people in town since hers was the only bakery around.

“Well, best we can tell, Porchia, er, Ms. Summers’s employee Mallory James walked in on someone burglarizing the place. If the condition of Ms. James’s knuckles are any indication, we will be looking for someone who’s pretty beat up.”

“She served as a Marine,” Porchia said in way of explanation.

Brody nodded. “Anyway, the guy hit her with a paperweight on the desk. She went down, and he ran. But he’d already started the fire before their fight. Probably figured the fire would erase any evidence that he was there.”

“Do you keep money in your office?” Marc asked.

Porchia shrugged. “I have a floor safe, so sometimes I do, but usually just overnight. Tina Marie has been making my deposits while I’ve been gone, so I don’t have any idea if any money was there last night or not.” She looked at Brody. “What about Mallory? How badly hurt is she? Where is she?”

“Ms. James is in Whispering Springs Hospital. She got hit pretty hard on the head.”

“And her burns?” Porchia asked.

“Mostly first and second degree. Doctor said she would heal.”

At that news, Porchia’s shoulders sagged in relief. However, guilt that Mallory had gotten snared and injured during Slade’s—and she assumed it was Slade—vindictive payback ate at her gut. “Thank God.” She looked Marc. “Can we go down there now?”

“In a minute. You call in the Texas Fire Marshalls yet?”

“No, sir,” Brody said. “I thought you’d want to make that call.”

“You did secure the scene?”

“Yes, sir. Deputies Martin and Knue are there.”

“Any other stores involved in the fire?”

“The fire department jumped on it pretty quick. Since Heavenly Delights was the end store on that block, the fire was mostly confined there. The jewelry store next door has some smoke and water damage. And the windows of that store were broken out also. The owner is checking inventory now to see if the breakage is from the water hoses or if he was burglarized last night too.”

“Go ahead and call the state fire marshal’s office.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, Porchia. Now we can head over,” Marc said.

The acrid stench of charred wood burned the inside of Porchia’s nose as she stood in her rear parking lot. The asphalt, never in great shape to begin with, was now littered with broken glass, blackened lumber and one burned-out Jeep. Mallory would be crushed about that Jeep. Porchia prayed Mallory had the clunker insured, but she doubted it.

“You okay?” Darren asked.

“No. Of course I’m not okay,” she snapped, rubbing the tears off her cheeks. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have barked at you like that. This isn’t your fault.”

He put his arm around her shoulders. “Hey. I can take it.” He kissed the top of her head. “This has got to hurt.”

“You have no idea.”

Marc had loaned them powerful departmental flashlights, which they were beaming around the outside blackened hull that had been Heavenly Delights. Porchia picked her way over to the cinderblock wall that had made up the rear exterior of the kitchen. What had been white was now black from the scorch of the fire. The metal door that led from the parking area into the kitchen was a molten glob.

She took a step over the metal hurdle to enter.

“Stay out here,” Marc ordered.

“But I need to see.”

“Stay here.” Marc’s voice left no doubt that he was speaking as the sheriff and not her friend.

She lifted her foot back.

“I want to keep the area as it is for the fire marshal. I’m not an arson expert by a long shot, so we could screw up the investigation by accident. We don’t want to do that.”

She shook her head. “No. You’re right.”