The powers that be in the
Ranger department had sent a
lone woman down here to investigate.
What were they thinking?

Of course Brock was with her, but still…

Just as he was about to step back inside his own hotel room, Gisella appeared in the doorway next to his. “You all set?” he asked.

She looked up to meet his eyes, and his blood pumped a little faster. She had beautiful, big brown eyes. Eyes that made a man want to act like a brainless sap and get lost in them. He blinked. “You bet.” She gave him a funny smile. “You?”

He nodded, then said, “But sleep with your gun close by. These locks are pitiful.”

She gave him another soft smile that made his heart do things it hadn’t done in a long time. He gulped and ordered himself not to be attracted to her.

It didn’t work.

TEXAS RANGER JUSTICE:

Keeping the Lone Star State safe

Threat of Exposure—Lynette Eason, May 2011

LYNETTE EASON

grew up in Greenville, South Carolina. Her home church, Northgate Baptist, had a tremendous influence on her during her early years. She credits Christian parents and dedicated Sunday school teachers for her acceptance of Christ at the tender age of eight. Even as a young girl, she knew she wanted her life to reflect the love of Jesus.

Lynette attended the University of South Carolina in Columbia, SC, then moved to Spartanburg, SC, to attend Converse College, where she obtained her master’s degree in education. During that time, she met the boy next door, Jack Eason, and married him. Jack is the executive director of the Sound of Light Ministries. Lynette and Jack have two precious children—Lauryn, eight years old, and Will, who is six. She and Jack are members of New Life Baptist Fellowship Church in Boiling Springs, SC, where Jack serves as the worship leader and Lynette teaches Sunday school to the four-and five-year-olds.

Threat of Exposure
Lynette Eason

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Arise, O Lord,

in your anger; rise up against the rage of

my enemies. Awake, my God; decree justice.

—Psalms 7:6

To my son, Will,

who has a very strong sense of right and wrong. May

you grow in the Lord, stand strong

and be an advocate for justice.

I’m so proud of you and I love you more!

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

LETTER TO READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

DEA agent Brock Martin stared at the man behind the gun. The man who was supposed to be his informant. The man who’d sold accurate information to him over the last year. A man who Brock hadn’t come to trust, but had come to rely on.

The cold January wind blew across his face, but that wasn’t what caused his violent shudder. “What are you doing, Lenny?”

One minute they were talking like always, the next, the weapon had appeared in Lenny’s hand almost before Brock could blink. The move had been totally unexpected and Brock drew in a deep breath, ready to draw on all of his hostage negotiation training.

Then Lenny gave a smile that chilled his blood. “I got a better offer from Harry Lowe. He decided you’ve caused him enough grief and lost profit.”

Harry Lowe. A big-time drug dealer along the Mexico- Texas border. Brock had been working this area between Juarez, Mexico, and El Paso, Texas, a long time. But one small slipup and he could die.

Lenny’s cold eyes and steady hand holding the weapon said Brock had slipped up.

In a major way.

Dread and fear clawed its way into his chest. He swallowed hard trying to figure out how he’d ended up in this predicament. “Lenny, come on, man, you don’t want to do this. Everyone at the station knows I’m meeting with you. And they’re waiting for me to get back with whatever you have for me.”

A nervous twitch of Lenny’s left eye told Brock that it didn’t matter. The man’s hand trembled as he stared down the barrel.

Right now Lenny was more scared of not doing what Harry Lowe wanted than he was of going to jail for murder.

Not a good situation for Brock.

More fear and no small amount of self-disgust curled through his gut. He’d gotten careless. Now, it seemed it might be his night to die. He’d always wondered how it would happen. How he would go. If he’d be ready.

He wasn’t.

But now it seemed in this small church parking lot, hidden in the shadows of the trees, he was going to face his maker.

God, please…

His mind formed the prayer even as he calculated the odds of successfully jumping Lenny. He realized he would have no chance of tackling the man or reaching for his own weapon, now on the ground to his left, before Lenny pulled the trigger.

So he had to make a choice. Jump Lenny and take his chances or bolt for cover and hope Lenny’s aim was off.

Bad odds all around.

Lenny sniffed and aimed the gun point-blank at Brock’s head. “Sorry, dude, but a man’s gotta do what a…”

“Put the gun down, Lenny!” the voice came from Brock’s left behind the trees. Lenny jerked, whipped the gun toward the voice, and pulled the trigger.

Brock darted to the bumper of his vehicle, wishing he hadn’t kicked his weapon quite so hard when Lenny had demanded he drop it. It glinted under the streetlamp ten yards away, mocking his incompetence.

Then he heard the pop of another bullet and felt the buzz as it careened past his cheek to plant itself in the asphalt beside him. God, get me out of this, please. I’m not ready to face You yet.

Adrenaline pumping, he rolled for cover even as he heard the discharge of another weapon, the howl of pain and the thud of a body hitting the asphalt.

Running footsteps echoed behind him as he lunged for Lenny, who now lay face down, and kicked his gun from his outstretched hand. Brock flipped the man, then planted a knee in his would-be killer’s back as he swiped the cuffs from his belt.

Through gritted teeth, Brock muttered, “You’re under arrest for the attempted murder of a law enforcement officer. You have the right to remain…” He broke off as a pair of boots stepped into his line of vision.

With Lenny’s hands securely fastened behind his back, Brock allowed his eyes to travel north from the boots, up a pair of jean-clad legs to a belt fastened around a slim waist he could probably span with his hands. He let his gaze wander on up to the white shirt with a badge.

A badge with a star inside it. Right over the wearer’s heart. She held her weapon ready and steady.

When he finally reached his rescuer’s face, he knew in his gut exactly who’d saved his life.

“Hello, Ranger Hernandez.” Brock hauled his now-subdued prisoner to his feet and stared at one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Tall, lean and fit, she kept steady brown eyes glued to his. He swiped an arm across his forehead. “I’ll say this for you. You have impeccable timing.”

Ranger Gisella Hernandez flipped her braid over her shoulder and stared at the man she’d already decided she didn’t like very much.

Number one, he’d stood her up.

Number two, he’d met with a known drug runner without any backup.

Number three, he hadn’t said “thank you” for her saving his life.

And she was supposed to work with him. As if she needed life to get any more interesting.

Give him a chance, she ordered herself.

She gave her hat a shove back on her head and addressed his timing comment. “You were supposed to meet me over two hours ago. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

The man before her blew out a short laugh. “And I don’t like to look death in the face. Looks like neither one of us was meant to be happy tonight.”

For some reason, that comment amused her. She appreciated the fact that she didn’t seem to intimidate him, as her badge seemed to scare off more men than it attracted. Gisella fought to keep the smile from curving her lips, but wasn’t sure she succeeded when he raised a knowing brow. She gestured toward Lenny. “How’s he?”

Brock shot the man a disgusted frown. “It’s a shoulder wound. He’ll live.” Gisella thought she heard a silent “unfortunately” on the end of that last sentence.

“I wasn’t gonna kill you. You got this all wrong,” Lenny whined. He looked at Gisella. “I can’t believe you shot me.”

She turned to the dealer and gave him a stare that made him cringe. “I wouldn’t have given you any warning if I’d had a choice.” She looked at Brock. “You were right in my line of fire. I had to do a little maneuvering.”

So that was why she’d yelled. Typically, in that kind of volatile situation, a cop shot first, two lethal pops to the chest, and it was over. Her eyes frosted even more as she said to Lenny, “You’re lucky I always hit what I’m aiming for.”

“And you were going to kill me,” Brock ground out. “A fact I’ll be happy to testify to,” he said as he pulled the man to the car. As mad as he was at the man, he wouldn’t make him wait in the cold for the EMS. He wasn’t giving Lenny anything else to complain about that would prolong their night.

“And I make a pretty good witness,” Gisella offered. Then she sighed. “I’ll meet you at the station. I guess I’m going to have a lot of paperwork to fill out tonight. Not to mention calling my captain and getting him to do some fancy talking so I’m not assigned a desk job while this is investigated.”

Brock grimaced. “I’ll have to wait on the EMS to get here. I’d transport him, but don’t want to have to clean out my car. Speaking of which, there’s a videotaped recording of everything that just happened. Your boss shouldn’t have any trouble getting this cleared up ASAP.”

A glimmer of respect finally reared its head. “That’ll help a lot.”

He nodded. “I’ll get someone to take over for me and meet you in half an hour.”

“I’ll be waiting.” She shot him a pointed look. “Again.”

He gave her a slow smile and Gisella felt her heart tremble at his low, “I’ll be there.”

A little unnerved by the attraction she felt for a man she’d just met, she shook her head and headed for the vehicle she’d left parked on the other side of the trees.

Gisella had flown down from San Antonio, grabbed a cab and rushed to meet Brock Martin, one of the drug enforcement agents assigned to the El Paso area of the border.

El Paso was a twenty-minute drive from Boot Hill, which was a five-minute drive from Juarez, Mexico. Her objective was to pick Brock up and head straight to Boot Hill. She hadn’t planned on getting sidetracked saving his life along the way.

But I guess You weren’t ready for him to die yet, were You, Lord? Thanks for using me in this situation. Now, please, please help me find the ones responsible for the drug smuggling and the murder of Captain Pike.

For the past four months, Gisella and her company of Rangers had worked hard trying to gather the evidence needed to take down the organization responsible for their leader’s murder. Just recently, she and her fellow Rangers had taken the information contained on the flash drive they’d found on Melora Hudson’s estate a few weeks ago and narrowed down the possibilities of where the drugs could be entering the country from across the border.

Melora’s husband had been killed because of his association with the Lions of Texas, an elite group responsible for millions of dollars worth of drugs coming over the border, and Melora had almost been killed herself. Fortunately, they’d found what the killers were after and now the Lions had no reason to go after her anymore.

And thanks to the information on the flash drive, Boot Hill seemed to be the next logical choice in their hunt for the top members of the criminal organization. Gisella and the other Rangers believed the drugs coming into San Antonio, and all parts of Texas, were originating from that tiny, almost nonexistent blip on the map.

When Brock had failed to show up for their scheduled meeting a few hours earlier, she’d gotten tired of waiting around, did a little snooping and found out from one of the other agents where he was.

She’d punched in the location of the church in her GPS and driven straight there.

Not wanting to give herself away, she’d circled the building twice, then found a suitable parking spot that would enable her to be of some help should Brock need it, yet far enough away not to tip off the informant.

When she saw how Lenny had been acting, the hairs on her neck stood straight up. When that happened, she knew to pay attention. She’d pulled her weapon. Creeping in closer hadn’t been a problem underneath the shelter of the trees.

Now, the ordeal was coming to a close. As she reached her vehicle, she heard the scream of sirens and saw the flashing lights of the approaching ambulance.

Help had arrived and she could get back to the office. Anxious to get on with her reason for being in El Paso, she drove with a single-minded purpose and thought about the man she would be working with.

A very good-looking—in a Brad Pitt sort of way—man. From the sandy blond hair and flashing blue eyes to the perfect smile. Her heart trembled at the memory of the smile that flashed white teeth and deep dimples. The fact that he probably hadn’t shaved in two days didn’t detract from his attractiveness at all. On the contrary, she liked the rugged look.

Gisella blinked at her thoughts. What in the world was she doing? She didn’t think she even liked the man and she was daydreaming about how good-looking he was. When was the last time she’d done that?

She couldn’t remember.

You’re here for a reason, she reminded herself sternly. The mental admonishment brought her up short.

She was here to find a way to bring down the Lions of Texas, a group responsible for the death of her boss, Captain Gregory Pike. The Lions had already made millions of dollars smuggling their drugs over the border from Mexico. Her desperate hope was that Brock Martin might have some answers for her on where their entry point was.

When she’d learned she was to be paired up with the drug enforcement agent, she’d done her homework and researched everything she could find on him.

Which wasn’t much.

But she had learned that he’d been working the border for more than 10 years, was experienced and well-liked in his department. She hoped together they could pool their resources and bring down the Lions.

She parked at the entrance to EPIC—the El Paso Intelligence Center. Agencies currently represented in the building included the Drug Enforcement Agency and almost every division of law enforcement one could think of. Their job was to keep the border—and the citizens in the surrounding small towns and cities—safe.

And she was going to have a hand in that.

Climbing out of her car, she headed inside and made her way to the department she’d left only a couple of hours ago in order to rescue her temporary partner.

Sitting at her desk in the office she’d been assigned upon her arrival, she stared at the desk opposite hers.

Brock Martin. DEA agent. One who sometimes acted as the Lone Ranger. Sometimes followed the rules, sometimes not. But still, from all appearances, a good man who got the job done.

“Lord, I hope You’ll let me in on this plan of Yours that seems to be unfolding.”

“Talking to yourself?”

Gisella jerked at the deep voice and whirled to find Brock standing in the doorway looking at her. She felt the heat crawl into her neck and knew within seconds her cheeks would be fiery in spite of her olive skin. “Something like that. You got here fast.”

He pulled off his gloves then shrugged out of his heavy coat to drape it over the back of his chair. As he lowered himself into the seat, he said, “Backup got there pretty quick. I didn’t have to hang around much longer.” He steepled his fingers under his chin. “So. We’re going to be partners for a while, huh?”

“Looks that way.” She tried to ignore how well he filled out his pullover gray sweatshirt and how his blue eyes regarded her with an intensity that seemed to reach into her very soul. She cleared her throat. “So…why didn’t you have any backup tonight?”

“Not everybody takes backup with them when they meet an informant.”

She eyed him. “The smart ones do.”

He blinked. Then barked a laugh. “Right. Well, it just so happens that I had backup with me, but he got a call that his wife was in labor. Needless to say, I sent him on his way.” He rubbed a hand across his lips then frowned. “I’ll admit, Lenny surprised me. For over a year, the man has provided solid information—and made a small fortune off of me.” He shrugged. “I had no reason to suspect tonight would be any different.” Another pause as he looked at her. “I’m glad you tracked me down.”

Without another word, she nodded. She was glad, too. His last sentence might be considered a thank you. She decided she liked him a little better after all.

“So, show me what you’ve got.” He rolled his chair around so that he sat shoulder to shoulder with her. Unprepared for the sudden move or the next wave of awareness that shot through her, she gave a small jump. Wow, he smelled good—even after that tussle with Lenny.

She cleared her throat and reached into her briefcase. “All we have to go on right now is this information. It was on a flash drive that was found in Melora Hudson’s house. She was married to a man who was involved in the Lions and was killed two years ago because of it. His body was only found recently—near a drug drop site. It just goes to show you that these people will stop at nothing to protect their interests.” She waved the book at him. “I printed all of the information on the drive off and made this little black book here. I needed it on paper form to study. Anyway, so far, we’ve uncovered the fact that drug shipments are coming out of Juarez, Mexico.”

“Which is why you’re here, right?”

“Right. And here.” She pointed to the initials B.H.TX. “This is Boot Hill, Texas. We’ve already figured that much out. However, the rest of this is gibberish to me. You, however, know the border, you know the towns, you know the people. Surely, if there’s something in here, you’ll be able to zero in on it.”

He held out a hand and she placed the book in it. When she did, her knuckles brushed his palm and sent shivers dancing all the way up her arm.

Jerking back, she looked at him and saw the surprise and awareness on his face, too.

Before he could say anything, she blurted, “Look on page seven. There are a lot of initials and numbers we haven’t been able to decipher. Like I said, we figured out Boot Hill, but the others…” She bit off her words. She was repeating herself and sounding like an idiot. Clearing her throat, she shrugged. “Would you take a look at those and see if anything comes to you?”

“Sure.” His warm gaze lingered on her face a moment longer and she swallowed hard.

After what seemed like years, he let his blue eyes fall to the book in front of him. “So,” he drawled. “They sent you here all by yourself? With no backup?”

“Excuse me?” She understood the question, she just hoped she misunderstood the meaning behind it.

“No offense, but this is a really sticky situation and…”

At his doubtful look, Gisella bristled. She hadn’t misunderstood. And just when she was starting to think he wasn’t all bad. “What? You don’t think I can handle this assignment because I’m a woman?”

Disdain dripped from her voice but she didn’t care. She had no use for men who thought because she was female and pretty, she was somehow less than capable. Did she need to remind him of who’d saved whom only a short time ago?

He must have read her thoughts because he backpedaled and held up a hand as though in surrender. “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying—exactly. I’m just saying that this is an extremely dangerous playground. If these people find out about you and you were to get caught…” He swallowed. “I don’t have to tell you what the consequences would be. I just have a hard time believing your superiors would choose someone…”

She turned her head so that she came nose to nose with him.

And lip to lip.

Putting some distance between them, she held on to her ire and said, “I’m a big girl, Martin. I can handle it. They chose me because I can handle it. So don’t give me any grief about being a woman in a man’s world. I won’t listen to it.” She refused to bring up the incident with the informant. If she hadn’t proved herself there, it would be hopeless to get into a discussion with the man about her skills.

Over the years, she’d found arguing with the men in law enforcement about her abilities was fruitless. She just had to do her job, do it well and keep her mouth shut. She’d also found the old adage that actions spoke louder than words was true.

But Gisella’s gut tightened at the thought of the added tension Brock’s skepticism would bring to the table. She forced herself not to worry about it now. She’d just deal with it.

Like she had when she first became a Ranger and the men had looked at her with a mixture of disbelief that she’d infiltrated their ranks, and a haughty, arrogant assurance that she wouldn’t be around long.

She’d proven them all wrong and was now a respected and well-thought-of member of Company D. But it definitely hadn’t been an easy road to travel.

And while she might keep her cool and ignore a lot of stuff she considered silly, that didn’t mean she didn’t have a backbone. “Can we focus on what we need to do? You go over that book while I fill out these papers on the shooting.”

He just looked at her for a moment. Then sighed. “Yeah, sure.” He glanced down, then back up. “I didn’t mean to offend you, I was just…concerned.”

“No need to be,” she clipped.

She’d already called Ben and filled him in on the shooting incident. He wasn’t happy at the tap dancing he was going to have to do in order for her to continue her current investigation. After a shooting, an officer was generally placed on administrative leave during the investigation. But Ben had pull in a lot of places. And the videotape from Brock’s car that she’d sent him would go a long way with Internal Affairs.

And he needed Gisella in Boot Hill, Texas, investigating.

After she finished the paperwork, Brock and Gisella spent the next hour and a half bouncing ideas off each other until Brock finally said, “I don’t know. This could go on forever. I say we head to Boot Hill and start asking questions. We can see what turns up.”

“That was my original destination until I was told we were going to be working together.” A thought hit Gisella and she gave a startled laugh.

Brock blinked. “What’s so funny?”

“I just realized that they didn’t exactly send me down here all alone.”

His right brow lifted. “No?”

“Guess that’s why they paired us up. So you can protect me.” She batted her lashes and put on her most helpless expression.

A short laugh escaped him. He snorted, “Well, when you put it that way…” Brock glanced at his watch. “Get that look off your face. If we leave now, we can be there in twenty minutes.”

Gisella turned serious and sucked in a thoughtful breath. “Yeah, let’s do that. I’m going to check in with my boss again and give him an update.”

He stood as she grabbed her phone, excitement lighting his weary eyes. “Then let’s hit the road.”

“Do you have a car? I took a cab from the airport, then borrowed one of the station’s cars to come find you.”

His lips twisted. “Sure, we can use mine. Or rather, the department’s.”

She wondered at the odd look on his face but didn’t ask.

Instead, she looked at the clock. 8:07. She was starving. Her suitcase sat at her feet. “Fine, as long as you promise we’ll get something to eat soon.”

TWO

After a quick stop by Brock’s apartment to throw some things into a small suitcase, the drive to Boot Hill, Texas, took approximately twenty minutes. Upon entering the small town with the sign proudly proclaiming their population to be 1,406, Brock eyed the woman sitting next to him.

She’d been on the phone most of the ride with a fellow Ranger. Levi someone. “How’s our guy in the hospital?” she asked. “Has he come out of the coma yet?”

Coma? Guy in the hospital? Brock shot her a brief glance which she ignored. Seems like she’d neglected to fill him in on a few details.

“Right,” she said. “Keep me in the loop, okay?”

She must have gotten an affirmative response because she said thanks and hung up. To Brock she said, “Sorry, that was my new captain, Ben Fritz.”

“Who’s in the hospital in a coma?” Brock asked.

“We’re not sure who he is.” Gisella reached down into the backpack she’d brought with her and pulled out a water bottle. She held it out to him and he refused. After she took a sip, she said, “We just know that he’s somehow involved with the Lions of Texas and his name is Quin Morton. We haven’t figured out his connection to the Lions yet, but we will. He was there when Captain Pike was murdered in his own home. Before Captain Pike died, we—the Ranger company—had gotten a text that Pike had something major to share with us. We were all to gather at his house so he could fill us in, but when we got there…” She paused and he glanced at her as he pulled into a parking spot in front of The Great Plate, the restaurant he’d heard had good home cooking.

“Yeah?” he prompted.

She cleared her throat. “When we got there, we found our captain dead and another man severely wounded. That man’s been in a coma ever since and we’ve had no luck tracking down who he is. We’re desperate for him to wake up and tell us who shot him and the captain. But so far, no luck.” She grimaced. “And to top that off, someone tried to kill him just a few weeks or so ago so he’s under 24/7 guard right now.”

“Ouch.”

She opened her door and climbed out. He saw her pull the edges of her heavy down coat tighter against her throat. He shivered in his own jacket as they moved toward the warmth of the restaurant. “And this is what you’ve been working on for the past several months?”

“That’s it. We’re making progress, finding clues here and there, but we just can’t seem to grab on to that final piece of information that will allow us to put it all together and capture the top guys.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I know how you feel. I’ve been working the border down here for years, catching the small fish. I just can’t seem to get the information I need to catch the big dogs.”

“And then we’ve got the Alamo celebration coming up in March. Our company is part of the security detail and we believe someone is targeting that celebration for some reason.” She pulled the door open. “Hopefully the answer to that is somewhere in the info on the flash drive.”

As Gisella stepped inside, she breathed in the scents of veggies and coffee. And was that a roast she smelled? Her stomach growled. A sudden longing for her mother’s home cooking swept over her. Please, Lord, let us resolve our differences soon.

Brock stood behind her and for some reason, she was very aware of his presence. So much so that for a few seconds she didn’t realize the noise level in the restaurant had dropped to a dead silence.

Although there weren’t many customers—probably due to the lateness of the hour—all eyes present were focused on the newcomers. Gisella shifted, uncomfortable with the sudden attention. She was used to people staring out of curiosity simply because of her uniform and the fascination people had with Texas Rangers.

However, these stares didn’t feel like that. They felt menacing. Surprised at her somewhat paranoid reaction, she let her eyes roam the restaurant again.

Nope, not paranoid. Unsmiling, stony faces looked back at her.

Then a man in a food-stained apron approached and handed them two menus. “Hey, I’m Angelo Luc—or Pop. I answer to both. Have a seat wherever you want, Krista’ll be around shortly to take yer order. You got here just in time. I’m closing up in thirty minutes.”

“Thanks.” Gisella gripped her menu and made her way over to a booth in the corner. Brock slid in across from her and gradually, the patrons turned their attention back to their meals.

She blew out a breath. “What was that all about?”

“Small town, new faces?” He gestured toward her badge. “A Ranger in town and they want to know why.”

Gisella flushed. “Maybe I should have changed and been a little less conspicuous. Then again, I’m not undercover and have nothing to hide.”

“After we eat, I suggest we find the sheriff and explain our presence. I’ve already met him a few times but he’ll want to know about you.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Brock picked up the menu. “So, what do you think? Lots of choices here.”

She lifted a brow. “All five of them? That qualifies as a lot to choose from?”

A grin slid across his lips and she felt her face flush for a different reason this time. He was teasing her. Then his eyes flickered as he glanced at his options on the menu. “Choices. I’ve made a lot of choices in life.”

“What kind of choices?”

“Right ones, wrong ones.” He smirked. “Seems like the wrong ones outweigh the right ones some days.”

Gisella blinked at his sudden flash of vulnerability. Where had that come from? But she knew what he meant. And because of that, she felt herself drawn to him. “I guess you have to pray about it and believe that God won’t steer you wrong.”

He pulled in a deep breath and studied her, his blue eyes piercing to her soul. “I haven’t prayed in a long time.”

More vulnerability. “Why not?” She couldn’t help it, she was curious about him.

He flushed as though he regretted bringing up the topic, then shrugged. “I guess I’ve just been so busy trying to catch the bad guys, I haven’t given God and prayer a lot of thought.”

“That’s understandable. I’ve been there.”

“But you’re not now?”

“No. God got my attention a few years ago. I finally realized I had to make the time to spend with Him, it wasn’t just going to magically happen.” She smiled, but didn’t elaborate further.

She’d been mad at God for a long time after the death of her brother, but had eventually made her peace with it. A story she would be happy to share with the man before her. Maybe when she knew him a little better, though. She couldn’t talk about it without tearing up. And after his doubtful comments about her superiors sending a woman down to work on this case, crying in front of Brock wasn’t going to happen.

Brock kept silent, then seemed to realize she wasn’t going to say anything else. He sighed. “Today when Lenny had that gun pointed at me and murder in his eyes…well, I have to say, I prayed.”

“Guess God still has work for you to do.”

“I guess.” His smile finally touched his eyes.

“Whew! Sorry it took me so long to get over here. Y’all ready?”

They looked up to find a young girl probably not much older than sixteen standing at the edge of the table, pen poised above her order tablet. Her blond ponytail swung behind her and her blue eyes smiled with her lips.

Brock smiled back at her. “I’ll take the special.”

Gisella shut her menu. “Make that two.”

“Country fried chicken, gravy, greens and cornbread. You got it.” She spun on her heel and headed for the kitchen.

Gisella let her eyes wander around the restaurant. Another young waitress worked the back tables. “Nice little place they have here. How did you find it?”

“A drug runner I arrested about a month ago was from here. He jumped bail and I was determined to get him back. I teamed up with a bounty hunter and we tracked him down. Found him holed up in his mother’s attic about two miles from here.”

“Probably part of the organization we’re trying to eliminate.”

“Now that wouldn’t surprise me.”

“So that’s when you met the sheriff?”

“One of the times. I come through here occasionally on business.”

The waitress came back and placed their drinks and a couple of straws on the table. Gisella took a sip of her water and leaned back. “You’re not a very by-the-book kind of guy, are you?”

“What makes you ask that?” he deadpanned.

She gave a short laugh. “Right.”

The food appeared on the table with a flourish and Krista asked them if they needed anything else. Gisella smiled at her. “No, this looks great, thanks.”

“Just holler if you need something then.”

“How old are you?” Gisella asked the girl.

“Sixteen.”

So, she’d guessed right. “You’re very good at this waitressing thing.”

The girl gave a giggle. “Thanks. I don’t normally work school nights, but two of the regular waitresses are out sick with the flu so…” She shrugged. “I told Pop—my grand-father—I’d help him.”

“Very kind of you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not totally selfless. I like the money. Enjoy.” She flashed another smile and twirled back to the kitchen.

“At least she’s friendly,” Brock said after a bite of his chicken.

Gisella didn’t bother to answer as she tucked into her food.

The next ten minutes passed in relative silence as they both ate and tried not to let the stares from the remaining few customers faze them.

Gisella finally put down her fork and leaned back. “I’m stuffed. Reminds me of Mom’s cooking.” Cooking that she hadn’t had a lot of lately. But that was her fault.

“Where are you from?” Brock lifted his glass and took another drink.

“San Antonio. Well, my parents are from Mexico originally, but I was born in Texas.”

He smiled his thanks as Krista refilled their glasses then turned his focus on Gisella. “Did you bring that little black book in?”

“Yes.” She tilted her head and eyed him. “It’s in my bag.”

“I want to have another look at some of the other letters and numbers again.”

“Sure.” She reached into her purse and pulled out the book.

He took it, opened it and read aloud. “JZ, RP, QV. And the mixture of numbers and letters: 3149NJZ10724WRPQV. JZ, RP and QV could all be initials, maybe? As for the other symbols, it could be a safe combination written in code. Or the numbers could be someone’s birthday. 3149. Could that be March 1, 1949?”

“Possibly.”

“And 10724.”

“October 7th, 1924.”

“And look, the letters JZ are repeated in the string of letters and numbers as well as RP and QV.” Brock gave a frustrated grunt. “Could be anything.”

He turned the page. “Look at this list of numbers.”

“I know. I’m wondering if those are actually the dates and the numbers on the other page are something else.”

She studied the list.

Brock shook his head. “Doesn’t look like dates to me although I guess they could be.” He rubbed his chin. “This shouldn’t be that complicated. I think we’re making it harder than it is.” At her expression, he held up a hand. “I’m not saying all drug runners are stupid, but it looks like it made the rounds, passed from one member to the next. Surely they’d have to have some kind of common code or something so that whoever had the book could easily decipher it.”

Gisella tapped a finger against her lips. “Agreed, but it would have to be complicated enough so that if it fell into the wrong hands,” she wiggled her fingers at him, “such as yours truly, they wouldn’t have to worry about it being decoded.”

He grunted. “Okay. True.”

“And look at this.” She reached over, her fingers brushing his as she flipped the pages until she reached the back of the small book. Ignoring the wave of butterflies that took flight in her stomach when she touched him, she pointed. “Here are some symbols. This one takes up the whole page.”

“Weird.”

“I’m wondering if it’s some kind of land form. Could be a lake, but we had our forensics person run it through the computer database to see if it matched up with anything around this area. It didn’t.”

He flipped the page. “What’s this?” He referred to a series of lines that crisscrossed each other.

“Beats me.” She shrugged and sighed. “Another symbol we don’t have a clue about. We thought it might be a map of some roads. See the Y here? And here it almost looks like a U-turn that leads back to the main road leading from…well, from wherever it started. Our forensic people actually came up with a few possibilities, but when we checked them out, they were dead ends.”

His expression stilled and he closed the book in a casual move. “We have company.” His low voice snapped her from her calculated musings about the numbers, letters and symbols.

Glancing toward the door she saw three men in uniforms headed their way. Pulling her drink toward her, she relaxed and pasted a friendly smile on her face.

The three men took the table next to Gisella’s and Brock’s booth and the man who was obviously the sheriff leaned back in his chair and adjusted his hat. He placed his right ankle on his left knee and nodded in their direction. “Howdy, folks.”

“Hello,” Gisella answered. “Sheriff?”

“I am. Sheriff Kip Johnston.” He pointed to the man on his left. “Meet Niles Vernon, a Border Patrol agent working out of the Boot Hill border crossing station, and Chris Locke, one of my deputies.”

Gisella offered him a smile. “I’m Ranger Gisella Hernandez,” she said, “and this is Agent Brock Martin with the DEA. I think you two have met before. We were just saying we needed to come over to your office and let me introduce myself.”

Brock nodded his greeting and held out his hand. “Good to see you again, Sheriff.”

The sheriff and Brock shook hands. “Yep, I remember you. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“I haven’t had any more escapees who headed this way.”

Sheriff Johnston gave a small laugh.

Krista came by and took the men’s order then disappeared again.

Chris Locke settled into his chair then shot them a narrow-eyed look. “So let’s get right to it. What are you in town for? I mean Boot Hill’s so small you’d miss it if you blinked. What brings a Ranger and a DEA agent to our fair town?”

Gisella decided she wasn’t so sure she liked this deputy and focused her attention on the friendlier Niles Vernon and Sheriff Johnston. “We’re here investigating a possible connection with the Lions of Texas. Have you heard of them?”

The sheriff took a swig of his drink before saying, “Nope. Who are they?”

“We believe they’re responsible for a lot of things, the main one being the death of a fellow Ranger. We think our friend found out something about the Lions and they killed him.”

The sheriff winced. “Sorry to hear that.”

Gisella swallowed hard. She always got emotional when she thought about Captain Gregory Pike. She pushed her sadness away and said, “Anyway, we also believe they’re running drugs big time. These drugs are finding their way throughout the state of Texas and Boot Hill is a possible entry point from Mexico for them.”

Chris snorted. “Boot Hill’s not perfect and not crime-free, but we keep the drugs out. If they make it over the border, they get stopped here.” He shook his head. “The drugs spreading through Texas aren’t coming through Boot Hill.”

Instead of commenting, Gisella simply nodded. “What about you, Sheriff? Do you have any reason to believe these people are working out of Boot Hill?”

Before the sheriff could respond, Niles interrupted with an irritated look at Chris. “Regardless of what my buddy here thinks, it’s possible some drugs do get into Boot Hill. But Chris’s right about one thing, it would be mighty hard. We’ve got the Border Patrol station and we police the fence closely with agents and K-9s.”

The sheriff didn’t lose his scowl. He did raise a thoughtful brow. “In spite of Chris’s protests, we all know that in spite of our best efforts, the drugs slip through.”

“I will say that if it’s coming across—and I’m not saying it’s not—it’s coming across on somebody else’s watch,” Niles grunted.

“Not on mine.” Chris rolled his eyes, shrugged then gave a sneer. “And we don’t need some fancy-pants Ranger or DEA agent coming in and stirring up trouble.”

“Cool it, Locke,” Sheriff Johnston ordered softly.

Chris rolled his eyes, sat back and gave his recently delivered food his full attention.

Niles shot them an apologetic look.

Gisella wondered what the deputy’s problem was then decided to ignore it. “So, Sheriff, what do you say we team up and work together? I think if we’re sharing information and backing each other up, we’ll be able to find what we’re looking for a lot faster.”

“Work together, huh?”

“Well, we’re either working together or we’re not. To me the choice is a simple one.”

Sheriff Johnston stroked his chin while Chris Locke looked on. “This town isn’t so friendly to outsiders.”

Gisella felt one side of her mouth lift in a smile. “We noticed. Hopefully, if they see us cooperating with each other, they’ll warm up to us.”

Niles grunted and Chris ignored them.

Brock said, “We need a couple of hotel rooms. Got any suggestions?”

The sheriff smiled. “If you want to stay in Boot Hill, your only option is the Boot Hill Inn. You can walk to it from here if you don’t mind a little hike. They have twenty-two rooms total.”

“Any vacancies?”

“Guess you’ll have to go find out. But yeah, probably. We don’t get a lot of visitors except families needing a place to stay during the holidays. The Christmas rush is over so you’ll probably have your pick of the rooms.” He leaned forward and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “So how long do you figure you’re going to be staying here?”

Gisella firmed her jaw and looked the sheriff in the eye. “As long as it takes.”

THREE

In the hotel office, Brock studied the man behind the counter and wondered vaguely what his story was. He’d been wiping down the counter with a rag when they’d walked in. His nametag read, STEVE.

A white scar cut a path from his forehead, down his right cheek to his chin. Prison tats decorated his fingers and his eyes had a hard glint to them. Gisella’s tense shoulders said she had her guard up, too.

Brock didn’t like the fact that Steve’s eyes had lingered a little long on Gisella’s pretty face, but Brock had to give the man credit. He hadn’t looked at her in any way that could be considered disrespectful. He simply handed over her credit card and room key and said, “Thank you. Glad you’re here.”

Gisella gave him a friendly nod.

Steve said, “There’s two of us who run the front desk. We alternate shifts and cover for each other so you never know who’ll be up front. We only have one maid working right now. We’re not a big-city hotel, so if you need something I’ll do my best to get it to you, but don’t expect to get it right away.” He spoke in a flat monotone as though he didn’t want them there, but couldn’t afford to turn them away.

Brock nodded. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

Gisella said to Brock, “I’m going to step outside and make a phone call while you’re finishing up.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

While he repeated the process Gisella had just completed, Brock considered the twinge of jealousy he’d felt at the hotel clerk’s obvious admiration of Gisella and told himself to get real.

He’d only known the woman a few hours. How could he be jealous? That he was made him a little nervous. Brock signed the credit card slip and thanked the man. Steve nodded and returned to his cleaning without another word.

Brock stepped outside to find Gisella already sitting in the passenger seat with her door shut. He decided he liked seeing her there. Beside him, she tugged at the heart with occasional glimpses of her vulnerability. He admired her tough-as-nails attitude about her job.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, he looked at her. “Too cold to stand outside for very long, huh?”

She laughed and agreed.

“You get your call made?”

Gisella frowned. “He didn’t answer.”

“Who?”

“My dad.”

“And that worries you?”

She shrugged. “No. He and my mom are probably out with their friends from church. He’s left a couple messages on my phone so I thought I’d try him back. No big deal.” She gave him a wry smile. “Trust me, he’ll call again.”

Brock drove about halfway down the building and parked in the almost empty lot, not in front of a room. “Our rooms are four doors up.”

Respect gleamed at him. “I never park in front of my door, either. Why advertise what room you’re in?”

He laughed. “Exactly. I try to make sure I don’t park in front of anyone else’s room either. Wouldn’t want an innocent person to get hurt because someone was looking for me.”

“You think someone’s going to come looking for us?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. This town isn’t exactly May-berry. The sheriff and our rough-looking desk clerk didn’t seem thrilled that we’re here and from what you’ve told me, a lot of people have died because of this case. If anyone here has connections with the Lions, then they’re aware we’re here and that we’re asking questions. Why take chances?”

“I agree.” She smiled and climbed from the car.

Brock watched Gisella haul her overnight bag from the car. “You need some help?”

She shot him a wry look. “I think I can handle it, thanks.”

Inserting the key into the lock, she slipped into her room.

Brock shook his head. Stubborn. And very pretty. What was her boss thinking, sending her into this situation? In spite of the fact that Gisella was confident in her abilities to take care of herself, Brock’s gut clenched as he thought about his former partner, Paul Gomez, and his experience. Paul had had a pretty female partner, too, once upon a time. Tina Lorenzo. Paul had fallen in love with her and she’d been killed.

Brock had been paired up with the man after the tragedy. Paul had lasted three months before quitting law enforcement altogether to see if he could find himself at the bottom of a bottle.

Poor Paul. He’d been planning on asking Tina to marry him the weekend that she was killed. Had even bought the ring and shown it around the station that day. Tina had been working an undercover assignment, one she and Paul had argued about. He hadn’t wanted her to take it. She’d insisted.

Brock blew out a sigh. Was he going to have to babysit the Ranger?

Maybe not if her saving his hide tonight hadn’t been a fluke. He still wasn’t sure how Lenny had gotten the drop on him. But he had. And Brock felt embarrassed that Gisella had witnessed it.

On the other hand, it gave him an idea of who she was. And Brock wasn’t against females in law enforcement. Not at all. He knew there were some good women cops. Had even worked with a few. But this whole situation was a different ballgame as far as he was concerned. The Lions had all kinds of connections. High-ranking ones, apparently. They didn’t hesitate to permanently remove anyone who got in their way. And mistakes were always fatal. What if Giselle’s bulldog determination to catch her boss’s killer caused her to be careless? Make a mistake? She could get them both killed.

And the powers that be in the Ranger department had sent a lone woman down here to investigate. What were they thinking?

Of course he was with her, but still…

Just as he was about to step back inside his own hotel room, Gisella appeared in the doorway next to his. “You all set?” he asked.

She looked up to meet his eyes and his blood pumped a little faster. She had beautiful big brown eyes. Eyes that made a man want to act like a brainless sap and get lost in them. He blinked.

“You bet.” She gave him a funny smile. “You?”

He nodded then said, “But sleep with your gun close by. These locks are pitiful.”

She bent to examine hers. “Actually, it’s not that bad.”

He grunted his disagreement. Gisella shook her head in amusement then said with understanding, “But I know what you mean. My locks at home are much better.” She gave him another soft smile that made his heart do things it hadn’t done in a long time. He gulped and ordered himself not to be attracted to her.

It didn’t work.

And that sent fear skittering through him. Memories of his fiancée’s betrayal flashed across his mind, but this time they didn’t seem to hold as much punch.

And it was easy to see Gisella wasn’t anything like the woman who’d left him for another man. A man with a safe job who would be home every night and wouldn’t be gone for months at a time. He’d done his best to keep in touch, doing small things to remind her that he was thinking of her—like having the florist deliver a rose to her once a week.

But it hadn’t been enough and she’d moved on.

He nearly smiled at the irony of it. Gisella would understand his job, what going undercover entailed. And she understood that because she lived it.

And yet, Brock refused to consider falling for someone he worked with, someone in as dangerous a profession as he was. Thinking about the possible results of loving someone who could be killed in the blink of an eye made him shudder. He simply knew too much about things that could go wrong, how easy it was to slip up, trust the wrong person.

Ignoring his thumping heart that didn’t seem to care what Gisella did for a living, he tuned back into her words. “In the morning we can start out by asking around about those other initials from the book. See if there’s anyone around here with the initials JZ, RP or QV.”

“Sounds good to me. See you in the morning.” He stepped into his room and shut the door.

Slowly, Gisella closed her door, absently thinking that someone needed to oil the squeaky hinges—then decided she was thankful for the built-in alarm system. She leaned against the metal door for a moment, pausing to stare at the ceiling.

Breathing out a sigh, she placed a hand over her pounding heart. “What in the world is going on, Lord? He’s just an attractive man. I work around a lot of attractive men and I don’t even notice them much other than to give them credit for doing a good job. What’s different about Brock Martin?”

Not getting an immediate answer, she finally took in the details of the room. It smelled clean. Simple and sparse and not much to it; nevertheless, the bed looked comfortable.

Part of her itched to take a dive into a pool and do several laps to work off the stress of the day. Something she did at home on a regular basis.

Not holding out much hope, she walked to the phone and dialed the front desk. When the man answered, she asked, “You wouldn’t happen to have an indoor pool, would you?”

“Yes, we do. Right here beside the office.” He told her how to get to it and she hung up, surprise zipping through her. Who would have thought?

She placed her laptop on the small round table by the window and turned it on.

Weariness tugged at her and she glanced at the clock. 11:46. Morning would come early. But work beckoned. So did the swim.

Choices.

She thought about Brock’s comment about choices in life and smiled. Sometimes you chose what you had to do, not what you wanted to do.

The swim would have to wait.

Gisella picked up her cell phone and punched in Levi McDonnell’s number.

He answered on the third ring. “McDonnell.”

“Hey, it’s Gisella.”

“Yeah, I recognized the number. What’s up?”

“Sorry to call so late. I wanted to ask for a quick update.”

“It’s been kind of quiet. There haven’t been any new threats against the Alamo celebration coming up, but we don’t know if that’s good or bad. Have they stopped sending threats because they realize they’ve made their point? Or have the threats stopped because of something else? We just don’t know.”

She blew out a sigh. “Right. Anything else?”

“Nope.” His voice softened. “Get some rest, Gisella, you’re going to need it. We’re getting closer to getting these people, I can feel it.”

“I sure hope so, Levi.”

“Talk to you soon.”

They hung up and Gisella decided Levi was right; she needed to get some rest.

But first, she was going to get her swim in.

Grabbing her towel and the one-piece black bathing suit she never left home without, she slipped into her heavy coat, hat and gloves.

Should she tell Brock what she was doing?

Maybe.

Then again, he already had his doubts about her ability to be here on this case by herself. If he thought she felt the need to report in to him to take a swim, he really would think she was in over her head.

Gisella scoffed. She’d been doing just fine all alone. She didn’t need him as a keeper. She ignored the small voice that said perhaps it was just common courtesy to let him know where she was going and assured herself that she was only going to be a few minutes. Besides, it was late. She didn’t want to wake him if he was sleeping.

She was quite confident in her ability to take care of herself—and she didn’t plan on staying long.

Opening the door, she made her way down the sidewalk and headed toward the office, keeping an eye out for the pool sign.

As she walked, out of habit, she scanned the area, taking full advantage of the meager lighting the hotel offered. With surprise she noted how neat everything was. The trimmed bushes, the overpowering smell of freshly-spread mulch. She paused. Who laid mulch in January?

Interesting.

The silence tickled her ears.

Nothing moved in the darkness.

A room door clicked shut somewhere behind her and she turned to look over her shoulder.

Nothing.

Her stomach twisted as she took in the quiet night. At home, she tended to enjoy the darkness, the quiet peacefulness that came with the setting sun.

Here, she felt exposed in the openness, wishing she had some kind of cover to hide behind. Hugging the building, she hurried along. She wondered if she should have brought her weapon with her. But she’d left it in the room, not wanting to leave it lying out of reach while she was in the pool.

Now, she was thinking that leaving it behind might not have been a good idea.

Sudden laughter spilled from the balcony above and she felt her muscles relax. Slightly. The two college guys had the door to their room open allowing bits and pieces of conversation to drift down to her. Absently, she thought they must be crazy to have the door open on a cold night like tonight, but to each his own, she supposed.

The feeling of being watched lingered and she shivered. Looking around netted her nothing new.

Taking the sidewalk in front of the office building, she saw the sign indicating the pool facility. A concrete structure, it had small horizontal windows running along the length at the very top. The double glass doors that led to the interior were tinted and—she tried one—unlocked.

Slipping inside, she saw she was the only one there. She supposed those who had come to swim had done so earlier in the day.

There weren’t that many people in the small hotel. She and Brock had done their homework on the ride over from the restaurant. The other occupants consisted of a family of three who had one room at the end of the building, an elderly couple in the room above hers and a couple of college kids passing through Boot Hill on their way to a family funeral. And that was it. Which suited her just fine.

Gisella found the changing room. Chlorine assaulted her nose and a tingle of anticipation crept up her spine. At home, she had an inground heated pool that she used at every opportunity.

If she was home, that was daily. If she was on a case, she found the nearest pool to work off the stress. If she couldn’t swim, she’d go for a run, but she preferred the peaceful feel of the water.

With one foot, she tested the temperature.

Perfect. Who would have thought this small-town hotel would have an adequate pool like this?

Gisella walked to the deep end and looked down. More meager lighting, she thought ruefully. There were underwater lights, but they didn’t do much more than offer a faint glow. She didn’t care. With a push of her feet, she plunged into the warm depths.

With each stroke she felt the stress of the day slide from her. Her strong arms ate up the distance and soon she flipped and pushed off from the other end.

Brock Martin. DEA. A bit on the rough side. A risk-taker.

A good-looking man that made her heart do things it hadn’t done in a really long time. Not since Andre. A mistake she’d promised herself she wouldn’t repeat. He’d been a hard worker, a fellow Highway Patrol.

And he’d hated that her goal was to become a Ranger. He’d felt threatened by her skills and her determination to achieve her goals. So, he’d left her. But not before Gisella had learned a lesson. Steer clear of men whose egos couldn’t handle a woman in her position. And don’t be sucked in by a pretty face.

Brock definitely fell into the pretty-face category.

But was there more to him than his looks?

She had a feeling she would be finding that out during the course of the investigation.

Lord, keep us safe. Help us find Greg’s murderer and stop more innocent people from dying.

As she swam, she prayed. A habit she’d started in her teen years before her brother, José, had died. After his death, she’d been mad at God for a long time, but found swimming and praying helped. Soon, she’d made her peace with God, but not with the drugs that killed José.

His death had made her what she was today.

Finally, she tired and decided to call it quits.

Just as she reached the side to pull herself out, she felt something encircle her wrist.

FOUR

Adrenaline spiking, she twisted her wrist, grasped the hand that held her and yanked. She was rewarded with a resounding splash behind her. Sputtering, her feet touching bottom, she whirled to see Brock treading water, his jaw tight, his face grim.

“What in the world is wrong with you?” she gasped.

“You could let a partner know where you’re going.”

Gisella stared at him, words failing her. She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t report to you.”

His jaw didn’t soften, but she thought his eyes did. A fraction. “No, you don’t. And I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. I called your name twice, you were so lost in your water world, you didn’t hear me.” He moved to the shallow end and got his footing.

Shock zipped up her spine. Swallowing hard, Gisella wilted against the side of the pool. “Really?”

“Yeah. That’s not safe. You need to be more aware.”

Her pride stung. He was right. When she swam, she tuned everything out. At home, she had her security system. Here, it was just her and Brock against the town of Boot Hill. At least that was what it felt like.

Gisella hauled herself out of the pool. Brock followed her. He tossed her a towel and she buried her face in it, buying time. But there was only one thing she could say. “You’re right.”

Her soft answer wiped out his anger. “Oh. Okay then. Good.” Clearing his throat, he admitted with a rueful smile, “I have to admit, you have great reflexes and reaction skills.”

Gisella gave a small laugh and shook her head. “At home, I swim all the time. I don’t think about work or the danger or…” She pulled in a breath. “I was wrong. I don’t have that option here. I should have told you what I was doing.” She changed the subject. “What made you come looking for me?”

“I heard someone at my door. I thought it might be you.”

She frowned. “Someone with the wrong room?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Thinking it was you, I called out that I was coming. By the time I looked out the window, whoever was there was gone. I went back inside and called your room. When you didn’t answer, I got a little concerned.”

“So you checked the pool?”

“It seemed logical. You said you liked to swim off stress and the hotel has a pool.”

Gisella felt her insides warm. He was worried about her. Part of her appreciated it. The other was embarrassed that he’d called her out on her carelessness. But she considered herself a big girl. She could handle it. “You need to get your gun dried out.”

He quirked a smile as he looked down at his sopping clothes. “Along with everything else.”

Standing, she wrapped the towel around her. “Let me change into dry clothes. Once I get back to my room, I promise to stay there, all right?”

He smiled. “Sure.”

She gave him a head-to-toe glance. “You’re going to freeze on the walk back.”

Brock shrugged. “I’ll live.”

A few minutes later she’d changed back into her clothes, pulled her hair up and wrapped the towel around it. On the trek back to her room, she noticed the stillness that hung heavy in the dark air.

She shivered. Not just from the cold, but from the feeling that eyes watched her progress. Again.

Brock walked silently beside her, tension emanating from him along with the occasional shiver. He hunched his shoulders and picked up the pace.

“You feel it here, too, don’t you?” she asked.

“It’s too quiet,” he agreed in almost a whisper. “Crickets should be chirping. There should be some kind of night sounds.”

“But there’s not. It’s totally creepy.” She paused in front of her door. “Thanks.”

“For?” He lifted a brow in amusement.

She huffed. “You know what for.”

Brock smiled and gave a small bow—followed by a racking shudder. “My pleasure.”

Without thinking, she reached up and touched his mouth with a forefinger. “Your lips are blue.”

His eyes narrowed. “I can think of a great way to warm them.”

Gisella breathed a laugh. “I bet you can. Good night, Brock.”

Within seconds, she let herself into her room. “Whew.” She liked him. A lot.

But she really didn’t need to flirt with him. Not when he had doubts about her.

Powering down the computer she hadn’t touched, she felt anger begin to burn. Anger with herself.

She’d been careless, thoughtless.

Even though there’d been no direct threats made against her or Brock, she’d ignored her instincts and pushed aside her internal warnings. She could have put herself in danger.

Vowing not to make that mistake again, she walked to the window and gently pushed aside the curtain to look out.

Brock’s car sat four doors down, right where he’d left it.

Nothing moved outside that she could see.

So what was her anxiety all about?

After checking the safety on her weapon, she slid it under her pillow. Exhaustion pounded on her and without bothering to dry her hair, she stretched out on the bed. More prayers drifted heavenward as she thought about her fellow Rangers back in San Antonio working the case from their end.

So much heartache had occurred because of the Lions—and yet the case had brought a lot of good people together, too, such as Ben and Corinna.

She flipped over and closed her eyes.

Would this case bring her and Brock together? Or in the end push them far apart?

Only time would tell.

The next thing she knew, she jerked awake, heart pounding. She’d fallen asleep fully clothed as she often did at home. Never a good sleeper, if she got sleepy on the couch, that’s where she stayed.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she sat there and listened. What had awakened her?

The sound of a car door slamming? Not so unusual. She was at a hotel. But no, that wasn’t it.

Another sound. A loud whoosh.

Outside her door? No, but close.

Shrugging off the fog of sleep, she moved toward the window.

Pushing the curtain aside, she gasped at the flames spurting from Brock’s vehicle.

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