No man is more irresistible than a Texan in love!

Heiress Avra Ross has made a name for herself while working at her family’s newspaper, which is known for uncovering lies and corruption. But an ongoing murder investigation brings her into the crosshairs of Samson Melendez, heir to one of the Lone Star state’s most famed dynasties. Determined to resist the gorgeous executive’s commanding charm, Avra realizes that far more than the truth is at stake.

Because the Ross and Melendez families have been close for years, Sam has always hidden his secret desire for Avra. But now he and the willowy beauty must work together to uncover a shocking truth that could turn their powerful Western clans into bitter rivals. Soon passion ignites as a breaking scandal unfolds. Sam and Avra must unmask the unseen enemy threatening to bring down both their families…or risk losing a love they can no longer deny!

“There’s something you enjoy about giving me a hard time, isn’t there?”

Appearing to contemplate her words, Sam tapped his fingers on the seductive curve of his mouth and smiled faintly.

Avra felt helpless to direct her gaze away from the gesture.

“I think you’re right,” he muttered.

“That’s a first.”

Any more that she might have said was silenced when his mouth crashed down on hers, and he proceeded to kiss her hungrily. Resisting never occurred to Avra. She was determined to find out whether his build was due to great tailoring or genetics.

Quickly she discovered it was all him. Heatedly she participated in the kiss, caressing his tongue over and under as she moaned unashamedly.

Eventually it was Sam who pulled back, but only briefly. When he spied the wetness on her mouth, he couldn’t resist another taste of her.

Faintly, very faintly, Avra realized she wasn’t refusing him. She didn’t want to refuse. Sam realized it, as well. Big hands cupping her delicate face, he drove his tongue deeper, craving more of her unique taste.

He ordered his need to cool and broke the kiss, stroking the tips of his thumbs across her moist, swollen lips. He waited until she brought her eyes to his. The smile he directed her way wasn’t gloating, but tender. “I’m gonna have to work on changing your perception of me.” He left her alone soon after.

Dazedly, Avra stumbled back to her desk and leaned on one corner. It was some time before her breathing slowed.

ALTONYA WASHINGTON

has been a published romance novelist of contemporary and historical fiction for eight years. Her novel Finding Love Again won the RT Book Reviews Reviewer’s Choice Award for Best Multicultural Romance 2004. In addition to teaching a community college course entitled Writing the Romance Novel, she works as a senior library assistant, resides in North Carolina and is currently working to obtain her master’s in library science. Writing as T. Onyx, AlTonya also pens erotic romance. Her latest novel with the Harlequin/Kimani label was the January 2012 title Pleasure After Hours. She will release the twelfth installment of her popular Ramsey/Tesano series, A Lover’s Hate, in 2012.

His Texas Touch

AlTonya Washington

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Dear Reader,

Thanks for returning to Houston, Texas, where a mystery is about to be solved. When Harlequin Kimani’s editors approached me last spring about this project, I was instantly motivated by its possibilities. The chance to craft this story over the course of two books was especially thrilling.

You’ve already met the devastating Samson Melendez and his stunning counterpart Avra Ross. Now discover how these two balance their competitive streaks and bickering with the chemistry and hunger that has lurked beneath the surface of all that unrest. The sensual unrest between Samson and Avra was especially fun to create as I envisioned the take-no-prisoners heroes and strong, outspoken heroines of the nighttime soaps that so many of us enjoyed back in the day. I hope you’ll settle in, enjoy this tale and share your thoughts with me: altonya@lovealtonya.com.

Love,

AlTonya

For my readers who recall the nighttime soaps of the ’80s.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Prologue

Houston, Texas—One Week Ago…

Samson Melendez silenced his truck’s soft engine and bumped one fist against the black leather braiding that protected the steering wheel. He debated. Go home, Sam. Just as his voice of reason sounded, another reminded him that he was a fool to pass on the chance to be alone with her—even if the reason was for something other than what he most wanted from her.

Rolling his eyes then, Sam made his choice. Hell, he rarely listened to his voice of reason anyway. Why pick now to start? he thought. Leaving the sleek Dodge Ram parked at an angle spanning two spaces, he headed toward the high-rise Avra Ross called home.

Avra had arrived at her condo only a few minutes earlier. She hadn’t even stepped past the threshold, but stood leaning against the open doorway. Deep in thought, she scraped a glossy, round thumbnail across her chin. She was still doing that when the elevator opened to her private floor.

Samson stepped out into the hallway and saw her there. A lone, heated curse settled to his tongue but made no sound. At that point he knew his earlier concerns from the evening were well-founded. Something was up. The only question now was whether he could get her to tell him what was going on.

Not likely, he thought with a blank look. Chances were he’d have to piss her off and bully it out of her—a thing he dreaded since she thought that was all he was good for. Still, he’d come to know her well since they’d entered each other’s lives two years prior, when they began working on advertising for Machine Melendez in the Ross Review.

Given that fact, the last thing he wanted to waste time on was discussion about the threat to his family and, quite possibly, her own. There was, in fact, only one thing he wanted to spend his time on. His smirk curved a perfectly sculpted mouth provocatively set above a strong, square, dimpled chin. The midnight gaze narrowed wickedly even as he schooled himself. It would be easier to coax her into telling him whatever it was she suspected than getting her to give in to another, more preferable way of spending their time. Maintaining his stance near the elevator, Sam cleared his throat softly at first and then a tad more loudly when she didn’t register his presence.

A hard knock in the distance jerked Avra out of her thoughts. She turned around to find Sam Melendez standing just down from her door.

“Damn, you…scared me to death,” she muttered, lashes fluttering in mild relief. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Told you I was following you from the club,” he said, sounding matter-of-fact while pushing his broad frame from the wall.

“Oh.” She left him with the simple reply and then walked on into the condo.

“You want to tell me what the devil is wrong with you?” He slammed the door, grimacing then at her thoroughly dazed demeanor.

The harsh sound of the closing door was another effective method of jarring Avra from her heavy thoughts. It did nothing to improve her attitude toward Sam’s presence in her house, unfortunately.

“Why the hell are you so interested?”

Her snappish tone did nothing to dissuade him. One wide shoulder rose in a barely there shrug beneath the knit sandstone shirt that complemented his copper skin. “When you get quiet, I get suspicious.”

“Well, don’t you worry, Sam. You won’t hear a peep out of me over the campaign.”

“Hell, Avra, you know I’m not here for that.”

“Then what are you here for, Sam?”

His lips parted again on the verge of response. Admirably, he caught himself before telling her the truth.

“What happened tonight—Arroyo dead after going after my sister. Do you think it’s over?”

Her almond-shaped brown eyes narrowing, Avra regarded the man filling her living room with a mix of curiosity and something else unidentifiable. “No,” she admitted simply. Turning to face him more fully, she folded her arms across the front of the gold-tone backless silk number she’d worn for the engagement party.

“I think Carson Arroyo Holloway was a scapegoat,” she said, referring to John Holloway’s son. John Holloway was a former Melendez employee who died under suspicious circumstances.

“Why?” Sam breathed, selecting that moment to move farther into the room.

Her gaze wavered. “Something that his mother said to me,” she muttered and then shook her head. “It’s crazy anyway—the woman was probably just trying to get me out of her house.”

“Humph. I can’t imagine why…”

Avra pursed her lips for a few seconds. “And I wish you’d do the same.” Gathering the chic folds of her dress, she made a move for the door.

“Hey?” Sam’s voice was hushed then. He caught her arm, covered by the tight sleeve of the frock that hugged her willowy form. “I’m sorry,” he said, dropping her arm after giving it a slight squeeze. “Talk to me, please.”

For Avra just then, talking or even breathing, for that matter, was impossible. Subtly, she massaged her arm, hoping that he hadn’t noticed how his touch had affected her.

Sam kept all emotion out of his expression. Of course he had noticed her reaction.

Coolly, Avra left his side.

“I really need for you to tell me what you think about this. Will you do that?” His very deep voice was most coaxing in its softness.

Silently, Avra admitted that she needed the venting outlet. “When Khouri made the connections between Carson Arroyo and John Holloway, I went to see Holloway’s widow, Vita Arroyo. She told me to check Wade’s notes.” Hugging herself, Avra walked the room. “According to her, they contained information—truths absent from his final story on her husband’s death.”

Sam walked the room as well, thinking. “Did you find anything?”

“Yeah.” Avra’s words carried on a light laugh. “I’ve been through the stuff four times already. Only problem is, none of it makes sense.”

“You sure you’ve got it all? All of his notes?”

“Positive.” She slapped her hands to her sides. “Wade used to joke that he spent more time at the office than at home. He tended to keep his most important stuff at Ross. Besides, we’d have heard about it if the police found something after Wade…died.”

Regardless, Sam made a mental note to ask Chief of Detectives Bradley Crest to confirm that. He studied Avra more closely then. She looked dead on her feet, but he knew she’d admit to no weakness—not in his presence anyway.

“Maybe that’s all there is.” He took the other side of the argument then. “Maybe the whole thing really does end with Arroyo.”

Avra was already shaking her head in disagreement.

“Why the hell not?” Sam harbored the same dismal prediction as Avra but wanted to hear her thoughts.

“Carson went to Setha not just because she was your dad’s prize but because she was listening to him. This was about his father’s pride and his mother’s dignity. That’s what he told her.” Again, Avra began to nudge her chin with her thumbnail. “He wanted her to know something so why didn’t he just tell her…?” She sighed the words almost to herself.

“Because he was an idiot?” Sam suggested.

Avra made a face, but she couldn’t completely dismiss the idea. “Dammit,” she groaned, dropping to the gray suede settee in the corner.

Sam watched her cover her face with her hands. The last thing he wanted was to leave but it was the only thing to do. They rarely went long without breaking into full argument. Their current chat had already lasted fifteen minutes—well beyond the limit.

Avra raised her head when she heard him move. “You’re leaving?” She pressed her lips together, instantly regretting the question.

“You’re beat.” He eased a hand into a trouser pocket. “It’s been a long night. You should be goin’ to bed anyway.”

Avra straightened, holding her hands clasped primly in her lap. “I’m surprised you’re not making a move or comment about joining me there.”

Go, Sam, he silently urged himself but couldn’t resist the opportunity to spar with her just a little longer. “Don’t worry.” He walked over to lean against the settee where she relaxed. “You’ll have me there,” he promised.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re a jackass.”

“And you’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever seen.” He could’ve laughed when stunned amazement crossed her coffee-brown face. Never had he complimented her so seriously without the teasing element that usually accompanied his words. Slowly, he leaned in, caressing her oval face with nothing more than the strength of his pitch stare.

“I’d like very much to have you in my bed…” He cast a cool, meaningful look over the chair she occupied. “Or anywhere else.”

She swallowed. Her wide eyes were riveted on his alluring face. “Would you leave me alone, then?”

Rising to his towering height, he offered a casual shrug. “Depends on how good you are.”

Don’t hit him, she told herself and almost broke the skin in her palms when she drew fists.

“Night, Av.” He brushed his knuckles across her jaw and then walked out the door.

Chapter 1

“You’re crazy if you think I’m just gonna let you drive home after you almost fainted right here in front of me and Brad.” Samson’s face was a picture of exasperation.

Danilo Melendez, owner of the auto-parts-and-

accessories giant Machine Melendez, spat a curse in his native tongue. “Bradley saw no need to call the paramedics before he left. You, however, are acting like a mother hen and I’m fine!”

“Pop, you almost—”

“I’m fine.”

Raising both hands in a defensive gesture, Sam stifled his reference to his father’s reaction. “Maybe you’d like to tell me what’s so special about Martino Viejo?”

Dan’s expression appeared vicious as he observed his eldest son. “Have you no respect for the dead?”

“Pop, you know that’s not—”

“I won’t have you question my concern for another human being—an employee at that. Am I understood?”

Sam looked down at the invisible pattern he traced into the top of his pine desk. “Who was he, Pop?” Sam rolled his eyes as Danilo began to rattle off a profile that he himself could have gotten from the Melendez HR department.

Following the brief rundown into Martino Viejo’s career with Machine Melendez, Dan bade his son a good-afternoon and made a hasty departure from the ranch. Sam made no argument and simply placed a call to the home of his assistant, June Elliott.

“Did you know him?” Sam was asking once he’d greeted the woman and engaged in a few moments of idle chatter. Sam couldn’t decide whether he was pleased to have the information or peeved over the fact that the recent murder victim had such an impressive employment reputation and had flown completely below his radar.

“Sounds like he was a golden boy.” Sam settled back into his desk chair when June took the time to breathe amid her rave review.

“Well, the community-relations department was very lucky to have him. All the programs he helped implement…” She sighed. “He did such fine work helping to acclimate MM employees who were also new to the country. He was even instrumental in working with area organizations where focus was on single moms—educating them, preparing them for the workforce, providing child care…”

“Hell.” Sam propped one elbow on the desk chair and massaged his forehead. “June—he’s dead.”

“What?” The woman’s already soft voice had taken on an even softer current. “Was this connected to all the others…? Of course it was,” she answered herself.

Sam’s expression remained grim but he appreciated his assistant’s quick mind.

“What’s happening, Sam? Are we going to have to dismiss all of our immigrant workers in order to protect them?”

“I don’t think we’ll have to go that far, June.” At least I hope we won’t. Sam groaned inwardly. “Can you get me the names of all the newest immigrant employees?”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“And, June? Keep as much of a lid on this as you can, all right?”

“I understand.” June’s words came through the line following a brief silence.

“I’m sure the cops’ll be round there soon enough. With any luck we’ll have the chance to formally address the crowd before that.”

“Does your father know?”

“He does. He’s not a happy man.” Or a well man. Sam made yet another silent observation but shook it off. “I appreciate this, June.”

“Take care, Sam.”

Once the call with June ended, Sam went right ahead and made contact with his brothers. During the conference call with Paolo and Lugo Melendez, he broke the news about Martino Viejo.

“Does Pop know?” Lugo asked.

“Yeah…” Sam swiveled his chair to take in the massive rear expanse of his ranch several miles outside Houston. “He wouldn’t even let me talk to him about it. We need to check out this Viejo—beyond his job responsibilities. Maybe everything Pop wouldn’t tell me is wrapped up in this guy.”

“You think it’s wise to go behind Pop’s back on this, Sam?” Paolo decided to play devil’s advocate.

Sam had no desire to tangle with Danilo. “The cops are damn well gonna find somethin’. Pop knows it. I could see it on his face when Brad told us about Viejo. If all this could damage Pop or the business, we need to do all we can to get ahead of it.”

“So what’s our next move?” Lugo asked.

“I’ve got June pullin’ all the files for the new immigrant employees. Maybe we can find some kind of connection the cops haven’t stumbled onto yet.”

“They’re not idiots, Sam.” Again Paolo played the advocate. “They already found out all the vics shared the same address.”

“An address nobody can find,” Lugo reminded his big brother.

“It’s the only real clue they have. I still hope it’ll lead somewhere—pun intended,” Sam said.

Lugo sighed. “I pray it’s anywhere except back to us.”

“Amen,” Paolo muttered.

“Chances are it’ll all lead back to us.” Sam took his turn at playing devil’s advocate.

“What are you sayin’?”

“You know exactly what, Pow. Papa didn’t make his money by bein’ Texas’s most upstanding citizen. We all know he’s got skeletons in his closet.”

“Then what do we do when it leads back to us?” Lugo queried.

“Pray.” Sam’s voice sounded monotone and grim. “Pray it doesn’t ruin us all.”

* * *

Paul Tristam entered his boss’s office carefully, as if he expected something to be thrown at his head. Avra had been even more demanding than usual. The funny thing was he didn’t think her mood had anything to do with the Ross Review.

He’d brought in a tray laden with her favorite tea and Danish. His plan was to relax her while trying to probe into what was going on with her. From the corner of his eye, he saw her across the room on the sofa. Papers of all shapes, sizes and colors were spread about her. His voice of reason told him to set the tray down and go. He only half listened. He set down the tray and then crossed the room to her.

“Avra?”

“Hmm…”

Encouraged by the absent reply, Paul expelled the breath he’d been holding. “Need help?”

“Yeah.” She shoved aside a page and dragged all ten fingers through the hoard of short, unruly onyx curls atop her head. “’Cause I must be out of my mind

wastin’ so much time on this mess.” For good measure she swiped a few papers from the coffee table.

“I’m sorry.” She groaned the words while holding her head in her hands.

A frown crossed Paul’s sun-kissed features. Now he knew for sure that something heavy was going on.

“Avra—”

“Thanks for the tea, Paul. Why don’t you go ahead and take off for the night?”

“Avra, are you sure everything’s all right?”

She had to laugh, knowing she was making her assistant more nervous than usual.

“I promise everything’s fine. I’m just trying to prove something to myself.” She tugged on the cuff of her pin-striped shirt and cast a woeful look toward the strewn papers. “I’m pretty sure it’s a lost cause.”

“And it’s something you need to handle alone.”

“Yeah.” She nodded and looked up at him with a weary smile.

Paul reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

“Thanks, hon.” She patted the hand on her shoulder.

Alone in her office once more, Avra left the whirlwind of papers and went to help herself to a cup of the fragrant tea. There she debated over taking her own advice.

She brought the mug to her mouth but didn’t sip. Instead she studied the mess she’d made in the office living area. Huffing, she set down the cup and went to tidy up. While gathering papers, she took another look at the oddly shaped page that had warranted a closer glance. Actually, it was a number scrawled between two sentences: 14918.

“What the hell are you?” Avra tried to make sense of the numbers again, thinking that they had something to do with the sentences they had been written between.

Unfortunately it seemed that the note was written as an afterthought. It had nothing to do with the paragraph that was part of the story on the John Holloway suicide. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the papers, she thought about what she’d told Paul about it all being a lost cause.

“14918.” She muttered the numbers again before slapping the page to her thigh. “Dammit to hell,” she cursed, at last completely discouraged.

* * *

“Carson always suspected there was someone else on this besides him. I should have listened to him.” Shane Arroyo said his words tightly into the receiver.

“This was important.” The voice on the other end of the phone line sounded grated, crackling through a poor connection. “You know as well as anyone that your brother was…disturbed.”

“And now he’s dead.”

“We’re sorry, Shane, but this is bigger than all of us.”

“Would you have taken my brother out had the cops not beat you to it?”

“I know you’re on the edge, Shane.” The voice sounded soothing, patient. “It couldn’t have been easy having to ID Carson’s body, so I’ll just forget your implications.”

Shane’s mouth tightened.

“Your brother didn’t die for nothing. The Melendezes will pay for what they did to your family—for what they’ve done to so many families.”

“You’ll have as much to lose as the Melendezes when all of this comes out.”

“But it still must come out.” The voice acknowledged Shane’s prediction. “It’s gone on too long and Dan’s making no move to stop it.”

“But his sons—”

“I can’t risk them moving in and playing heroes. That’s not in the plan and would not be in our best interest. The timetable will have to be upped in light of your brother’s passing. Do you understand?”

Shane nodded before offering verbal confirmation. “I understand.”

The call ended shortly afterward.

* * *

“Sorry, Daddy,” Avra was saying when she walked into Basil Ross’s office after applying a quick knock to the door. “Miss Doris wasn’t at her desk.” She cited the man’s assistant, Doris Shipman.

“Come on in here, miss.” Basil’s affectionate name for his eldest child seemed to vibrate in the spacious room with its rich maple paneling, plush carpeting and floor-to-ceiling windows. He met Avra in the middle of the office where he plied her with a kiss, hug and his own apology.

Surprise filtered through her vibrant brown eyes. “Dad?”

Basil tucked her into his side and squeezed. “I’ve been pretty closed off for a while.”

“Well, a lot’s happened.” It was the opening she’d been hoping for. “Some good.” She made a pretense of straightening her father’s tie. “Khouri’s getting married.”

A broad grin illuminated Basil’s handsome face. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am by that and by the girl he’s chosen.”

“Yeah, the weirdo finally lucked out. Setha’s a real catch.” Avra smiled over her combination playful insult and genuine compliment. Still, the ease of her expression began to show signs of weariness.

“There’s been a lot of the not so good, too.” She tugged Basil with her to lean against the edge of the desk. “These murders… I know it has to hurt seeing such a good friend dealing with drama like this.”

Basil left the desk at his daughter’s mention of the murders targeting the employees of Machine Melendez, the company founded by one of his oldest friends. Avra watched her father pacing the room and she knew where his mind was. Good. She wanted to keep it there.

“You’ll be happy to know David and Noah are taking your suggestion—to follow the money,” Avra tacked on when Basil looked her way. “They might break this thing before the police.” She laughed slightly referring to the Ross Review reporters assigned to the MM murders story.

“Have they found anything?” Basil watched his daughter closely.

“No.” She focused on one of the small lavender buttons lining the front of her cap-sleeved blouse. “They’ve got lots of loose pieces, though. With any luck they’ll put ’em together soon enough.” She let her eyes drift downward then. “I’ve been putting together a few links of my own.” She noticed that her father had returned to his pacing. “I’ve been going through Wade’s old notes.”

The pacing stopped.

“Whatever for?” He sounded incredulous.

“I think maybe Carson Arroyo had gripes with the Melendezes and the Rosses. Whatever it was, I’m betting it had something to do with his dad’s so-called suicide. Wade was working on that story in conjunction with John Holloway’s obit just before he died.”

Basil shook his head, obviously confused.

“Carson Arroyo was John Holloway’s son. Holloway was the Melendez employee who apparently killed himself after being fired.”

Basil returned to his seat, slowly easing down to the corner. “How do you know this?”

“Actually, it was Khouri and Setha who made the connection.” Avra faced her dad across the desk. She waited for the man’s reaction.

“Do the police know?”

She’d found what she’d come in search of. “It all came out when Carson was killed.” She nodded. “Maybe the cops can start putting it all together. In the meantime—” she slid off the desk and tugged on the hem of the satin blouse hanging outside her slacks “—I’m gonna do my part and dig some more. Maybe I can find a key to this mess.”

“I don’t want you involved.” The tightness of Basil’s voice matched his expression to perfection. “You have your own work to see to.”

“Oh, Daddy, it won’t interfere—”

“I said stay out of it.”

“Why?” Ever outspoken, she voiced the query with a frown.

Basil leaned forward. “Because I said so.”

“Dad.”

“You’re skating on the thinnest piece of ice now, miss.”

Understanding the warning, Avra barely nodded. She left the office soon after.

* * *

It went without saying that Avra was a million miles away in thought when she returned to her office. She muttered below her breath, talking about what she suspected and what she’d uncovered.

Her thumbnail was raking her chin when she strolled through her door, never noticing Samson Melendez sitting behind her desk. She was standing before him on the other side of the cluttered oak top, observing him blankly for several seconds before tuning in to what was really going on.

Sam hid his smile, fingers laced in his lap while he reared back in her chair and watched the absent look on her face change into one of scathing speculation.

“Afternoon,” he greeted before she could open her mouth to blast him.

“What are you doing in here?” She looked back quickly to check on the notes she’d recovered from Wade’s. They appeared to be untouched. Propping one hand to her hip, she fixed Sam with an expectant stare.

Sam, however, was in no hurry to explain, happy to keep her standing there for his appraisal. Of course when Samson Melendez appraised, a woman was left with no doubts as to what he was doing. Sam’s usual “appraisal,” however, was most often a purely physical observation of the woman he intended on taking to bed. Rarely did those observations involve emotional attachment.

Sam recognized it, though. As he observed the tall, dark chocolate beauty before the desk, he knew that emotions had definitely attached themselves. His constant appraisal of Avra Ross had finally carried things to a purely irresistible level. Not until she called—er—yelled his name, did he blink. Smoothly, he recalled his real reason for dropping by that afternoon.

“Kemah trip’s been scheduled. We should discuss the itinerary.” Sam referred to the scouting trip to locations for new MM ads in the Ross Review.

Avra lifted her hands briefly and let them hit her thighs with a soft clap. “Is your wireless service down, Sam? A call, email or text would’ve been just fine for this talk—better, actually.”

“Why better?” Sam grimaced, unaware that he was doing so.

Avra watched him as though he were losing his mind in front of her. “Samson, if somebody was using our names in the same sentence, chances were they’d be recapping a fight.”

Laughter roused hearty and long from Sam then. Avra bristled, feeling herself react to the sound in a way that wasn’t altogether unpleasant. When he stood behind her desk, she covertly appraised the stunning breadth of him. She wondered, as she often did, whether he was really that…massive. Perhaps it was merely a trick of finely crafted clothing, she thought eyeing the dark olive three-piece.

She’d collected herself and smothered her admiration by the time he stood before her.

“We leave in three days,” he was saying.

“What about the wedding?”

“We’ll be back in plenty of time.” He gave a quick, light shake of his head. “Bride and groom want this thing in the bag. Least we can do since they worked so hard to take care of what we couldn’t.”

“You know, one of my staff could give the okay on this location stuff just as well as I can.”

“Not good enough.”

“Look, Sam—”

“Come with me or the agreement’s null.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I can’t believe you’d stoop so low.”

“Sure you can.”

Avra looked down at the carpet where she stabbed it with the heel of her lavender pump. “There’s something you enjoy about giving me a hard time, isn’t there?”

Appearing to contemplate her words, Sam tapped his fingers to the seductive curve of his mouth and smiled faintly.

Avra felt helpless to direct her gaze away from the gesture.

“I think you’re right,” he muttered.

“That’s a first.”

Any more that she might have said was silenced when his mouth crashed down on hers and he proceeded to kiss her hungrily. Resisting never occurred to Avra. She was determined to find out whether or not his build was credited to great tailoring or genetics.

Quickly she discovered it was all him. Heatedly she participated in the kiss, caressing his tongue over and under as she moaned unashamed.

Eventually it was Sam who pulled back, but only briefly. When he spied the wetness on her mouth, he couldn’t resist another taste of her.

Faintly—very faintly—Avra realized she wasn’t refusing him. She didn’t want to refuse. Sam realized it, as well. Big hands cupping her delicate face, he drove his tongue deeper, craving more of her unique taste.

He ordered his need to cool and broke the kiss, stroking the tips of his thumbs across her moist, swollen lips. He waited until she brought her eyes to his. The smile he directed her way wasn’t gloating, but tender. “I’m gonna have to work on changing your perception of me.” He left her alone soon after.

Dazedly Avra stumbled back to her desk and leaned on one corner. It was some time before her breathing slowed.

Chapter 2

“Damn him.” Avra blurted the words and shoved aside the file she’d been trying to review since she got up that morning.

Memories of the kiss with Sam Melendez that previous afternoon had her mind and everything else reacting to it. How dare he kiss her? How dare she want it? She despised the man, didn’t she? They’d known each other for two years as business associates. Before that she’d known of him. He was the son of one

of her father’s oldest friends. From scores of female acquaintances she’d heard he was built, with looks to die for.

Once she’d officially met him, she realized those accolades were well deserved. But he shouldn’t have kissed her. She shouldn’t have wanted it and more still after he’d walked out of her office.

The fact that he wanted her in his bed was no secret. He’d been up front about that from a few days after they’d first met to work on the Machine Melendez account with the Ross Review.

Avra cursed again. She had railed too long and too hard against strong, commanding men to give any part of herself to the likes of Sam Melendez. Strong, commanding, chauvinistic, politically incorrect men like Sam Melendez, she added. If he was simply one of her many male friends, she could find amusement in his lack of decorum and sexist nature. As it was directed toward her and he was ever so confident about taking her to bed, those less than admirable traits of his only grated more heavily on her nerves.

She stooped to the floor and began to collect the papers from the Wade Cornelius file that were scattered around the settee in her living room. She wondered if Sam knew how much of her hard-hearted approach was an act. It was unfortunately the only way she could ignore the way her body reacted to his presence and all the other things he did to get under her skin.

Sadly she’d devised no other method for resisting a reaction to his touch. If yesterday afternoon was any example, she was in serious trouble if he did that again.

Closing her eyes, she settled back against one of the settee’s claw-footed legs and surrendered to a delicious shiver that raced through her body then. To no one else would she admit how very much she wanted him to kiss her again. When the phone rang her out of her daydream, Avra snapped to and decided that was the last thing she should be wanting.

Papers gathered though haphazardly arranged inside the manila envelope, Avra put the file on the settee and went to answer the phone. She laughed, noticing the name on the caller ID and cheerfully greeted her soon-to-be sister-in-law.

Setha Melendez sounded equally cheerful on the other end of the phone. That was to be expected, of course. Still, Avra felt the need to interrupt some of the cheer when Setha kept going on and on about the fun they were going to have when she came to stay at Sam’s place.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Well, I… Well, it’s all set for you to come and stay here for the shower party.”

“Setha…who told you that?” Avra didn’t need the answer. She already had it.

“Well, Sam said it was pretty much a done deal. Humph,” Setha grunted, understanding the problem all too well. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just don’t expect me out there.”

“Uh-uh. No way, Av,” the bride snapped. “I’m sorry Sam didn’t tell you, but you can’t back out now.”

“Why the devil do you need me there?” Avra massaged the curls that tapered at her neck while pacing the short distance between the settee and the phone table. “You’ve got tons of friends—have one or all of ’em stay out there with you. Sam would love that.” She grimaced over the thought.

“Don’t bank on it,” Setha muttered.

Avra stopped pacing. “Honey, what are you up to?’

“I’m hoping you can take Sam’s mind off whatever’s got him so edgy.”

Avra had to laugh and it felt good to relieve a bit of the tension she struggled with that morning. “Honey, he’s edgy over me, as usual.”

“Avra, I honestly have no clue how he feels about you. I’m not so quick to say his feelings are bad, though.”

There was another quick flash in Avra’s mind about the kiss. The way he felt next to her—the way his mouth felt on hers, his tongue… She shook her head and quietly told herself to forget it.

“Besides, we can talk about the contract while you’re here.” Setha made the comment regarding the contract detailing the advertising renegotiations between the Ross Review and Machine Melendez airily enough but couldn’t completely dismiss the urgency from her voice. “You can review it once more to be sure we’re all on the same page with it all before the shooting for the ads starts in its entirety.”

“Crap,” Avra huffed, knocking a fist against the folds of the peach robe that draped past her ankles. “I don’t have a problem with waiting, hashing out everything at the final meeting.”

Setha huffed then, too. “Look, Avra…”

Avra felt her brow creasing. The tone of Setha’s voice was fueled by more than the usual brother/sister agitations.

“There’s something different—Sam’s…always been protective, but this… It’s more than normal.”

“His baby sister’s gettin’ married, hon. That’s a big deal,” Avra softly pointed out.

“Yeah…I just hoped he’d loosen up with Carson Arroyo out of the picture. I’ve tried to get him to talk about whatever’s goin’ on but he just clams up. It’s just him and me out here and I’m ’bout fed up with his mood.”

“Right…” Avra rubbed the creases in her brow then, understanding the woman’s frustration. “Honey, um…you know you are a grown woman. You could always stay with Khouri. You guys are about to get married.”

“I know it’s stupid and old-fashioned.” Setha’s laughter came out brief across the phone line. “I just felt like it’s the least I could do since I really did just spring all this on them. They didn’t even know I was seeing anyone for Pete’s sake.”

Avra strolled back to sit on the arm of a chair near the phone table. “Did they give you a hard time about it?”

“Oh, no! Not even—which is a real surprise. They all like Khouri. They’re happy for me but I think they’re afraid they’ll lose me once I become a wife.”

“Well…they’re not altogether wrong about that.” Avra had settled into big-sister mode, always eager to offer an ear to listen.

“This is different, though.” Setha’s voice had gone softer. “I virtually closed myself off to them when I was investigating all that stuff about Carson Arroyo. Staying with Sam’s the least I can do to make myself more available to them—for a little while longer anyway.”

“So go stay with Mr. Dan.” Avra referred to Setha’s father and a sudden smile curved her mouth. “You’d get no argument from me about coming to stay over then.”

“Sorry, girl, even big, bad Danilo Melendez wasn’t willing to fight with Sam when he roared about me staying here with him.”

Avra felt herself losing the battle.

“So? Will you come?”

Avra broke into a frustrated dance-jerk on the settee and rolled her eyes. “I’ll be there.” She managed to keep her voice level. Silently she acknowledged the part she’d played in riling Sam with talk of Carson

Arroyo’s motives. She couldn’t help smiling over the sound of Setha giggling and yay-ing on the other end of the line.

“I’ll be there today after work.”

“Oh, thanks, Av. We’re gonna have so much fun.”

“Right. Fun.”

“Oh…stop that and don’t worry,” Setha ordered and broke the connection seconds after.

The phone resumed its ring half a beat later. Avra laughed when she answered.

“Don’t worry, I won’t change my mind.”

“I hope not,” Sam said. “Aside from yes, that would be my second-favorite answer from you.”

“Keep dreaming. What do you want?” She rolled her eyes, attempting to ward off her reaction to the sound of his deep laughter rumbling across the landline. “What is it, Sam?” she insisted.

“Just calling to see if you want me to send a car to the Review after work.”

“Ah…” Avra stood from the settee. “Is this about Setha’s shower? The particulars of which you didn’t feel the need to share with me?”

Again, Sam chuckled. “Sorry ’bout that. Must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Humph. I can see how easily that could happen.”

Sam’s laughter was a bit more resonant in response to her dig. “Anyway, the ranch is pretty far out. I figured you might be too worn-out to make the drive after a full day.”

“Gee, Sam, I must say you continue to amaze me. I wouldn’t have thought you capable enough to come up with such a thoughtful plan.”

“I told you yesterday that I’m working to change your opinion of me.”

She’d been doing such a fine job of maintaining her stony demeanor, Avra thought. She coughed in reply to his mention of his office visit and a flashback to the kiss filled her mind for the second time that morning.

“I’ll be fine, Sam. I’ll drive my own car.”

“Mmm…in case you need to make an escape.”

“Something like that.”

“I would never force you, Av,” he said once silence held the line for a lengthy span.

She refused to ask whether he was referring to the ride he’d offered.

“So I guess that means you won’t force me on this trip to Kemah, right?”

“I’m not totally rehabilitated yet.” Laughter carried on his gravelly, deep words. “You can’t expect me to get rid of all my bad habits just like that.”

“Well, then here’s your chance to make progress.”

“I’m very stubborn, too.” He made a tsking sound over the phone. “Another bad habit to work on. Sorry, Av.”

“Such a jackass,” she hissed below her breath. “I’ll get my own ride.” She slammed the phone down on his laughter.

Not surprising, the ringing resumed again.

“Damn you,” she greeted.

Khouri burst into laughter then. “Hell, girl, I swear it’s too early in the morning even for me to be on your bad side.”

“Sorry, Khou…” she groaned, knocking a fist to her forehead when she heard her brother’s voice. “Just had a bad call.”

“So Dad got to you, too, huh?”

“No…what’s up?”

“I was calling to ask if you knew what this meeting was for.”

“Meeting? Today?”

“Ten a.m. sharp.”

“Damn.” The wall clock above her fireplace read 9:10 a.m. “Well…maybe it’s somethin’ good,” she hurriedly reasoned while collecting files and shoving them into her white leather valise. “How’d he sound when he called you?”

“Pissed. I’m guessing this ain’t one of those pats-on-the-back meetings.”

Avra stilled, thinking back to the tense conversation with her father the day before. “Guess we’ll find out soon,” she said, deciding against sharing the father-daughter discussion with her brother.

“See you there, all right?”

“Yeah.” She waited for Khouri to break the connection first. “Damn,” she muttered.

* * *

“Thanks for comin out, B. I know it was short notice.” Sam was shaking hands with Chief of Detectives Bradley Crest when the man arrived in his office at Machine Melendez.

“Not a problem.” Brad clapped Sam’s shoulder when they were done shaking hands. “I’ve been meaning to come out or call to check on Mr. Dan. He didn’t look too good when I left that day.” Brad’s blue eyes harbored a probing intensity as he removed his hat.

“It’s not easy for him to hear these murders are targeting his employees.” Sam tapped his index knuckle against the corner of his mouth as he thought of his father. “Man’s not as young as he used to be.” Something about the muttered acknowledgment struck a chord with Sam. Tugging on the cuffs of the shirt hanging outside his trousers, he went over to lean against his desk.

“Everything all right, Sam?” Brad worried the brim of his hat.

“Any new developments in this thing, Brad? Specifically, have y’all found any connections between Martino Viejo and the other victims?”

Brad bowed his head. He knew what Sam was really asking. “So far no links between Viejo and the address the others shared.”

Samson didn’t mind letting his relief show. He drew both hands through his dark straight hair and let out a sigh.

“The guy—Viejo—sure accomplished a lot in a short span of time.”

“Yeah,” Sam murmured with a grunt meant to be a laugh. “And I hadn’t even heard of him till he died.”

“From what we’ve gathered so far, he kept a pretty low profile but made a respected name for himself dealing with the public on behalf of MM.”

“Guess that explains why dad’s so upset over his death.”

“Makes sense.” Brad settled his lean, wiry frame into a chair. “Losin’ an employee that valuable…gotta hurt.”

Sam understood Brad’s point. For some reason he just didn’t buy it. He chose to keep that part of his opinion to himself.

“You still don’t have a lead into who killed him?” Sam asked instead.

It was Brad’s turn to grunt a humorless laugh. “All we know is who didn’t kill him. Whoever it was cleaned up very well behind himself.”

“Can you pin the other murders on Arroyo?”

Brad looked uneasy then. “None of this goes past this room.” His stony expression brooked no argument.

Sam only spread his hands, silently implying that he knew that better than anyone.

“Hell—” Brad threw up a wave “—this thing’s got me edgier than a deer in headlights. Whole thing’s a mess.” He pushed out of the chair he’d occupied and stalked the spacious scope of Sam’s office. “The leads we think we have all tend to crisscross and fizzle. We got absolutely nothin’ to go on ’cept an address no map or GPS can locate.”

Sam was back to massaging his jaw as he considered all the detective shared.

“Truth is—” Brad sighed “—we can only pin two of the murders on Arroyo—he was sloppy. Aside from the evidence we recovered, those murders pointed to him because they were so similar. The others…” Brad studied the stitching in the brim of the hat. “Once you toss in the similarities with the vics, nothin’ else seemed to fit.”

Sam frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

“That either Arroyo switched up his style from sloppy to smart for three of the murders or there’s a second killer.”

The silence that settled then was only interrupted by the shrill ring of Brad’s cell. Less than a minute later, he was making his way out of the office.

Sam remained seated on the corner of his desk, deep in thought.

* * *

“Surprised to see you here, man,” Luc Anton greeted once he’d knocked on Danilo’s office door and strolled inside.

Dan shrugged, barely looking up from the papers he shuffled. “Important for the staff to be reassured given what’s happened.” He stopped with the papers and clenched his fists. “Tino’s death… It’s a huge loss.”

“And I commend your courage for being here,” Luc noted; his voice was soft yet the subtle hint of curiosity was there.

Dan heard it and smiled as he returned to sit behind his desk. “Say what you came to say.”

“What? I’m commending—”

“Luc.”

“Tino’s death could open up a can of worms wide enough to swallow us.”

“Martino Viejo was a good worker.”

Luc’s brow creased, adding more wrinkles to his weather-beaten skin. “And you think that means he didn’t keep certain reminders of earlier times? Let’s not forget that was how he rose so high.”

“He would’ve never resorted to blackmail,” Dan snapped.

“Are you serious? Or are you getting Martino Viejo confused with the staff or your sons who think the sun rises and sets with you?” Luc spat a soft, vicious curse. “You’re a fool if you think the cops won’t find something while investigating that kid’s murder—something that could put us all in trouble.” He raised a finger. “You need to get in front of this before it’s too late.”

Dan’s pitch stare narrowed. “That a threat, Lucas?”

“It’s a fact, old friend.” With those words, Luc left the room.

* * *

“He called in all the reporters?” Avra was asking Khouri when they stepped into the main meeting room at Ross Review.

The area was filled to capacity with writers, editors and anyone else even remotely involved with the department. Khouri and Avra found two seats close together but not in the same row. There were hushed, indecipherable conversations. Someone complained about there not being more coffee at the buffet that had been set up along a far wall. Shortly afterward a door slammed and all heads turned to Basil Ross, who had just entered.

Avra turned in her seat to look at Khouri, who simply grimaced and shook his head. They both knew the look their father wore. Basil Ross was not a happy man.

“I’ll make this quick,” Basil said just after claiming his spot standing behind the long table at the front of the room.

“All research and reporting on the MM murders is to stop at once.”

Conversation filled the room once again in a barreling wave. Questions flew from all corners and at varying decibels.

“Why?”

“Why now?”

“We got so much uncovered, sir!”

“Working on the MM story now constitutes a firing offence.”

Basil’s announcement fueled more conversation but at a much softer volume.

“Questions?” he asked, eyeing the crowd speculatively.

No raised hands emerged.

“Very well.”

Conversation returned to its deafening volume once Basil exited the room. Everyone was on their feet, except for Avra.

Chapter 3

Avra checked her wristwatch. James Purdy was always ready and waiting with her car door open and engine idling when she called down to let him know she was on her way out. Unless the man was sick, which didn’t happen often, he was at his post.

That day, however, her car door wasn’t open and the engine wasn’t idling. In fact, the Lexus coupe wasn’t there at all. James Purdy stood just outside the entrance to the parking staff office. He appeared to be in fine health and spirits as he talked, laughed and shared a bag of potato chips with Sam Melendez. When James caught sight of Avra, though, he straightened from his leaning stance along the brick wall leading into the parking deck.

“Afternoon, Miss A.” James tipped the brim of his navy blue cap.

“James.” She cast a pointed look across her shoulder. “This is a first. Should I pick my car up someplace else?”

“Oh, uh…” Uncertainty crept into the man’s kind dark eyes as though he were slowly realizing something was amiss. “Well, Mr. M. …” He glanced back at Samson. “He said you wouldn’t be needing it tonight.”

“Oh, did he?” The expression Avra turned on Sam was nowhere near as polite as the one she’d given James.

Sam brushed crumbs from his hands while bracing off the wall. “Thanks for the chips, Jay.” He pressed the nearly empty bag to James’s chest as he walked past to take Avra’s upper arm.

“Ah, ah, ah…” he urged when she stiffened in response to his thumb brushing the bare flesh beneath the cap sleeve of her blouse. “Don’t make a scene now.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Avra’s voice was as tight as the phony smile she wore for James’s benefit while Sam escorted her from the parking deck to the smaller lot, which sat catty-corner from the

Review’s main entrance.

He gave her a slight tug when she tried to quicken her steps. “I’m taking you to my sister’s party.”

“Told you I have my own ride.”

“And I told you that I’m tryin’ to turn over a new leaf.” He gave her a wink when she glared at him. “Leavin’ a little thing like you to make your way out to my ranch all by your lonesome just didn’t seem like the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Only you could make the gentlemanly thing to do sound self-serving and suspicious.” Her voice was still tight as their steps carried them into the lot.

Sam pressed a hand to the center of his broad chest and turned her to him when they approached his truck.

“Will you ever think better of me, Avra Ross?”

“Highly unlikely.”

Soon after voicing the statement, Avra felt the unyielding metal of the passenger-side door behind her back. Crowded against the truck and Samson’s equally unyielding frame, she was kissed—and thoroughly. Soft moans gathered instantly at the back of her throat and Avra didn’t care how loudly they sounded. She moved to her toes, positioning herself more comfortably against him, and thrust her tongue hungrily against his.

Sam had released his hold on her arms the second he crushed her mouth beneath his. He kept his hands sprawled on either side of her along the door of the F-150. Somehow, and he couldn’t fathom a guess as to how, he managed not to touch her except to kiss her.

Avra tunneled her hands into his hair, shivering as the soft mass brushed her fingers. She scraped her nails along the onyx whiskers that darkened his copper-toned face and toyed with the buttons along the short-sleeved shirt hanging outside his dark denims. When he at last showed mercy and broke the kiss in midstroke of his tongue, she let her head fall to his shoulder. Desperately she worked to slow her breathing and shivered anew when he nuzzled his nose against her ear.

“Guess I’ll have to keep trying, huh?” He looked down into her face, frowning slightly as he studied her ever more intently.

Avra could only press her lips together in response to his query. Sam appeared satisfied and eventually stepped back to open the passenger door and wave her inside.

* * *

“What are you doing?” she asked when they arrived at her building and he shut down the truck’s smooth engine.

“I’m going in.”

“Why?”

“Are you packed?”

“Yes, and I only have to grab my bag and I’ll be right out.”

A smile tugged the shamefully sensual curve of his wide mouth. “You’re lying,” he said after studying her for a beat.

Avra rolled her eyes past the windshield. “So what’d you ask me for, then?”

“To see what kind of lie you’d come up with.”

Avra opened the door and left the truck cab in a huff.

Sam chuckled and left the vehicle with ease.

Of course the guards knew Sam. Almost everyone in Houston worked for or knew someone who worked for Machine Melendez.

“Evenin’, Miss Avra,” Claude Bevins greeted and tipped his cap before grinning broadly at Sam and extending his hand for a shake.

“Need us to have your truck parked, man?” Joel Henries asked after he’d shaken hands with Sam, as well.

Grinning, Sam waited for Avra’s coffee-brown eyes to come to his dark ones. “Thanks, guys, but we won’t be long. Ms. Ross is spending the night at my place.”

The look she sent his way should have reduced Sam to a pool of waste on the lobby floor. It had had a similar effect on others. Sam’s grin merely broadened when she left him standing with the guards.

“Better head on up before she changes her mind, boys.” He clapped Joel’s shoulder and slanted a wink toward Claude and sprinted off.

Avra didn’t bother holding open the elevator door. She was only intent on closing out the sound of Sam’s laughter with the guards. The cherrywood doors were almost sealed when a hand slid between them. Sam eased inside the car a few seconds later. Avra slapped him as soon as the doors closed at his back.

“High school was never my favorite game to play, Sam.”

“What?” He raised both hands in an innocent move that mocked the grin on his face. He sidestepped her in the small confines of the car, when she moved to hit him again.

“You are spending the night at my place, right?”

“Oh, please.”

“What?”

“You jackass, you know that’s not what you wanted them to think.”

Taking the risk of being hit again, Sam stepped close. “What is it you think I wanted them to think? Ahh…” Enviously long lashes shielded his eyes then. “That you’re going to my place to have sex with me…”

Avra snorted. “That’ll never happen.”

“Is that right?” He slammed a fist against the elevator’s stop button without looking toward the control panel. “Never?” he probed.

There wasn’t much space to retreat. Correction: there was no space to retreat when one shared an elevator with the likes of Samson Melendez. Avra cleared her throat but refused to show any other trace of unease.

“Is this crowding supposed to intimidate me or have me panting like an idiot and hoping you’ll do something I didn’t know I wanted?”

The unexpected challenging inquiry softened Sam’s

copper-kissed features with thoughtfulness instead of humor.

“Have you put much consideration into me doing something like that, Av?”

She rolled her eyes, edging away from him in one cool move. “Is this your way of making me change my opinion of you?”

Sam leaned on the opposite wall of the car and raked his pitch stare down the rigid line of her back, which she’d turned his way. “What’s the point in tryin’ to better myself when you’ve already told me it’s pointless?” He studied the lines in his palms and waited for her answer.

Avra looked up at the floor number, which had lit up when Sam stopped the car. “I’d never tell you it’s pointless to better yourself, Sam.” She turned her head a fraction. “It’s only pointless to think bettering yourself will get me in your bed.” She didn’t need to turn around. She could feel his wide frame less than an inch away.

“I never said it had to be my bed.”

His words preceded touch. Avra bit her upper lip and swallowed when one of his big hands smothered a small yet full breast. Not long after, he’d worked the nipple into a firm nub beneath her shirt and eased it past the barrier of her bra.

Avra didn’t try resisting. She already knew she couldn’t. Instead she moved against the subtle, pleasurable massage. Barely there, breathy sounds slipped past her mouth as she pressed her nipple deeper into his palm. She was moments from turning to him when she snapped to.

Sam had hit the elevator’s stop button again. The car continued its ascent. He put space between them, giving Avra time to fix her clothes and collect herself. She kept her back turned for the duration of the trip. Once the doors whispered open, she bolted from the car.

Alone then, Sam allowed his smug playfulness to vanish. Pressing a thumb to the corner of his eye, he sighed heavily. “Nice, Sam, nice…” he muttered.

He left the car reluctantly and was more than a little surprised to find Avra holding open the door when he arrived at the condo. He crossed the threshold as reluctantly as he’d left the elevator. His dark gaze was astute, alert as he observed his surroundings in the event that an anvil or some other destructive device might come crashing down on his head. He moved no farther than the foyer.

“Drink?” Avra slammed the door and moved past him and into the condominium.

Sam continued to tread slowly. Hands in his pockets, the alertness in his eyes transitioned into something more akin to curiosity. He watched her kick off the chocolate pumps that complemented the mocha and tan of her blouse and accentuated her shapely long legs beneath the flaring hem of her wrap skirt.

Avra prepared a gin tonic, took a sip then wiggled her glass in silent inquiry to Sam.

“Got any Jack?” he asked, relaxing just a smidge.

She dutifully prepared the drink and then crossed the room while sipping her gin. She handed him a beaded glass and waited for him to drink.

“Why is my dad protecting yours?” she asked when he nodded his approval of the liquor.

Samson blinked deliberately, his attempt at ease sailing right into oblivion. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Right.” Avra shook her head. “I see your dad shares about as much as mine does.” She demurely sipped more of her drink.

Sam downed the rest of the Jack Daniel’s. “I’m still confused, Av.”

“My dad called a meeting today and basically threatened to fire his reporters if they so much as sniffed at the Melendez story. Why would he do that? Protect MM that way?”

Sam was twirling the empty beaded glass in his hands. “I haven’t got one damn clue, Av.”

“Would you tell me if you did?”

“Darlin’—” he grinned wearily “—I sure as hell would if I knew where to start. All I have are bits and pieces of junk that may or may not be anything.”

Avra believed him. Especially since her own luck at finding answers had proven to be just as dismal. She was certainly in no position to share what she had,

either.

“I’ll get my stuff packed,” she said and set her glass on an end table before scooping up the shoes she’d kicked off. “Won’t be long,” she called over her shoulder.

Alone in the living room, Sam went to help himself to another drink. He scanned the room and looked thoughtfully toward the mound of files and papers lying on the coffee table.

* * *

“What the hell is this?” Brad Crest’s tanned face was a study in frustration and confusion. One of his men had just set the last of eight boxes on the counter in his office at the precinct.

“Boxes contain things taken from Martino Viejo’s home,” Detective Gregory Roth explained.

Brad straightened on the sofa at the mention of the latest Machine Melendez murder victim. “What do you mean things?”

Greg shrugged, his low brow crinkling with agitation. “Just that—a bunch of stuff that could mean nothin’, but given the fact that we’re leavin’ no stone unturned and the nature of some of this stuff…”

Brad braced his elbows to his knees, his mouth curved downward as he considered Greg’s point. “Show me what you got.” He shrugged.

Greg motioned to the other man in the room, and together they brought four of the boxes to the coffee table set before the long sofa in Brad’s office. Dutifully, Greg passed his boss a box of latex gloves and waited on Brad to put them in place.

Mild surprise mixed with curiosity soon claimed Brad’s face. Despite the latex gloves, he seemed hesitant about touching the photo he stared down at. “Is that…?”

Greg was already nodding. “Senator Herbert Willins.”

Carefully, Brad picked up the plastic-sleeved photograph. Willins and Martino Viejo were both grinning broadly, arms linked about one another’s shoulders. A luxury yacht had been captured in the background of the picture.

“I knew this guy’s job put him in the company of some pretty influential folks, but…” Brad’s voice trailed off into silence as he studied other photos of Martino Viejo looking chummy with other influential types.

“Dawson’s son?” Brad took a closer look at the picture of Viejo and the lieutenant governor’s oldest son.

Greg tugged on his earlobe. “The man himself’s in a few, as well,” he said in reference to Lieutenant Governor Logan Dawson.

Brad whistled. “Impressive list.” He tossed the photo back to the coffee table. “Makes it even more pressin’ for us to find out who’s behind this ASAP.”

“We’re just now finishing up documenting all the photos,” Greg explained, grimacing toward the evidence boxes. “They’ll be on the way to the lab soon, but there’s more here than snapshots, boss. With your permission, I’d like to request extra help to go through it all.”

“Well, what else have you found?”

“Boxes of journals from his garage.” Greg scratched at the thinning hair at the crown of his head. “A lot of water-rotted crap. It’ll be a tedious task pullin’ anything off those pages—may take a while.”

“I understand. All right, then, pick your people and I’ll sign off on it.” Brad leaned back on the sofa, his eyes narrowed toward his second in command. “Somethin’ else on your mind, Captain?”

Greg gave a jerky nod to the other detective in the room. “Bring Floyd and Cooper in here,” he instructed and then went to sit in the chair opposite Brad. “Boxes on the counter are filled with CDs and dictated cassette tapes. We haven’t listened in and they still need to be dusted, but given the circles this guy runs in, there may be stuff that needs to be handled delicately…”

“And?” Brad nodded when Greg watched him expectantly.

“Well, sir, I, um. Maybe you’d want to handle it yourself, given…”

“Given my friendship with the Melendez family.” Brad grimaced.

“Sir, this thing already stinks to high heaven.” Greg leaned forward, mimicking Brad, who sat with his elbows on his knees. “Who knows what we’ll find in that stuff?” He gave another jerky nod to the counter.

“Thank you for caring, son.” Brad fixed Greg with an earnest look. “Friendships are the last things I’m tryin’ to preserve just now. Grab anybody you can spare from other cases and put ’em on this, all right?”

Greg nodded once and stood. “I’ll send someone in for this stuff.”

Alone in the office, Brad flexed his hands still encased in the latex. He tilted his head at an odd angle when he noticed Martino Viejo in pictures with Dan Melendez and board chairman Lucas Anton.

Turning his gaze toward the boxes on the counter, Brad groaned and fell back against the sofa.

* * *

Avra waited quietly, watching Sam at the coffee table browsing her file on Wade Cornelius. “See anything interesting?” she asked when he looked her way.

“You’ve been busy,” he commended.

Avra set down the bag she’d packed. “Aren’t you the one always telling me I have no life except for being a slave driver to my staff and giving you a hard time?” She tugged at the long, lightweight scarf around her neck and shrugged. “Guess that leaves me lots of time for conducting homegrown investigations into unsolved crimes.”

“But Wade Cornelius died of natural causes.”

“Did he, now?”

“These papers tell you otherwise?” Sam shook some of the pages in question.

“Don’t know.” Avra batted the fringes of the scarf back and forth against her palms. “So far they’ve only served to give me a massive headache. Wade’s notes were all over the place.”

“Yeah.” Sam’s sleek brows drew close in mild criticism as he scanned the journalist’s haphazard method of note taking. “Probably a writer’s thing,” he reasoned.

“Humph.” Avra eased her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Maybe that’s why I was always so bad at it.”

Grinning easily, Sam’s gaze slid back to the page he held. His eyes narrowed, and after a moment, he tilted his head and drew the sheet closer.

“You find something?” Avra pulled her hands from her pockets and moved to the sofa in order to peer across his shoulder.

“Do you know what this is?” Sam was brushing his index finger across a number.

“Uh-uh, but I’ve come across it more than once in his notes.” She sat on the back of the sofa. “I feel like I should know what it is, though.”

Sam nodded while massaging his jaw. “Me, too,” he said.

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