Threat of Exposure

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.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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