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Beneath the Badge
Rita Herron








Beneath the Badge

Rita Herron







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Table of Contents


Cover Page (#uf588dd80-0a05-5722-9acc-2c5b8940a9f4)

Title Page (#u23a9e97e-a702-5d06-a2c0-7ca53eb28aed)

About the Author (#ubaaa5d16-6d99-544c-986e-d56e35b758e4)

Dedicatoin (#ud40ec197-237d-56d3-a5cd-3be13c84ffb5)

Chapter One (#ulink_6a3a7f35-2bdc-5a3d-bd39-bb87c00560d6)

Chapter Two (#ulink_14f0da1c-d23b-5cf5-9c83-4e5612be26cd)

Chapter Three (#ulink_3007a695-b1ce-5f2c-b972-5dea96f8c68d)

Chapter Four (#ulink_5a9aafed-6949-5a6c-aeaf-09a1c5782618)

Chapter Five (#ulink_4a484b5c-b9ae-56ef-8e70-d806f35e89ff)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Award-winning author Rita Herron wrote her first book when she was twelve, but didn’t think real people grew up to be writers. Now she writes so she doesn’t have to get a real job. A former teacher and workshop leader, she traded her storytelling to kids for romance and writes romantic comedies and romantic suspense. She lives in Georgia with her own romance hero and three kids. She loves to hear from readers, so please write to her at PO Box 921225, Norcross, GA 30092-1225, USA or visit her website at www.ritaherron.com.


To Rickey and Delores for making me fall in love

with the Rangers…




Chapter One (#ulink_e194fde4-aaa1-53c7-ab7f-8316b99de565)


“Taylor Landis needs protection.”

Sergeant Hayes Keller pushed his half-eaten bloodred steak away, his appetite vanishing. He knew Brody McQuade, his lieutenant, was still pissed at him for sleeping with his sister, Kimberly, and forcing him to babysit the richest, prissiest heiress in Texas must be his way of punishing him.

“But Montoya killed Kimberly,” Hayes said, “and Carlson tried to kill Caroline, and you took care of him.”

Brody cleared his throat. “We have to tie up loose ends. I’m at the crime lab in Austin, and we got the results of Carlson’s autopsy. Egan said Carlson acted as if he’d been drugged, and the coroner found ketamine in his system.”

“Ketamine—that’s Special K on the streets. I’m not surprised,” Hayes said. “Carlson had money. He ran with the party crowd.”

Brody sighed, sounding weary. “We need to search Carlson’s place, see if we find evidence of the drug.”

“Why? He’s dead. Good riddance.”

“Yeah. But during the shoot-out, when Egan confronted Carlson about being on drugs, he denied taking anything.”

“So you think someone else drugged him?”

“That’s what I want to know.”

Hell. He wouldn’t be at all surprised that someone else wanted Carlson dead.

“And we still aren’t sure who planted that bomb that blew up Taylor’s car. It looks as if it was intended for her, not for Caroline. Which means that if Carlson tried to kidnap Caroline because she had him fired and he didn’t commit all these murders, someone else wanted to hurt Taylor.”

“So she’s still in danger.” Hayes slapped his beer down on the bar. He so wanted this case to be over, so he could leave Cantara Hills. “Carlson probably set the bomb.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Caroline is worried sick about Taylor. She said that Taylor admitted that Kimberly and Kenneth Sutton had argued before the hit-and-run. I want to know what that argument was about.”

Damn. Kenneth Sutton—the powerful and ambitious chairman of the City Board who was now running for governor. Kimberly had been interning in the man’s office before her murder.

And she had been upset about something that had happened with the board, that was the reason Hayes had been comforting her the night they’d ended up in bed. Although she’d refused to confide the reason.

Brody was right. They had to tie up every unanswered question. He owed Brody, and he owed Kimberly.

The waitress glanced at his beer to see if he wanted a refill. He did, but he shook his head and indicated he needed the check. Duty called.

“So who would want to hurt Taylor Landis?”

Brody grunted. “That’s what you need to find out. Could be related to her family’s foundation, or Sutton’s hiding something.” Brody hesitated. “Miles Landis is also suspect.”

Miles, Taylor’s half brother. The snotty brat had rubbed him wrong the moment he’d met him. “Yeah, I heard he’s had money troubles.”

“Right. And Taylor is supposed to inherit a boatload of money in four weeks, on her thirtieth birthday,” Brody continued. “That’s motive for Miles.”

Hayes grabbed the check and tossed down some cash, then strode toward the door. Tonight he’d wanted to drown himself in cheap beer, listen to country music and hang with the real people.

Instead, he had to head back to the neighborhood of the rich and greedy and Taylor Landis.

COULD THIS DAY GET ANY WORSE?

First the confrontation with Kenneth regarding his possible tampering with the bid for the new city library, then that ordeal with Miles at the restaurant.

The only highlight was the excitement about her best friend Margaret Hathaway’s upcoming wedding. Margaret had been alone a long time, had never gotten over giving her son up for adoption when she was fifteen. She’d even hinted at hiring a P.I. to look for him, but her father, Link, had insisted against it. Poor Margaret. Her friend’s pain had prompted Taylor to hire the P.I. herself. Finding out that her son’s adopted family loved him would make a perfect wedding gift to Margaret. Then she could finally have the happiness she deserved.

Her cell phone rang, and she checked the number as she turned into Cantara Hills. Miles.

Not again.

She let it ring until it went to voice mail, but a second later, it started all over again. Knowing he wouldn’t give up, she hit the connect button.

“I knew you were there,” Miles snarled.

“Listen, I already told you that I’m not giving you any money right now. Grow up and start being responsible.”

“You’ll be sorry for turning your back on me, Taylor.”

A chill swept up Taylor’s spine. “Is that a threat?”

His bitter laugh echoed over the line. “It’s a promise.”

The dial tone buzzed in her ear as he abruptly ended the call.

Taylor shivered. After her mother’s death, her father had quickly remarried. But his marriage to Miles’s mother hadn’t lasted long, and both she and Miles had been bitter and had tried repeatedly to milk him for money. But she’d never heard Miles so out of control. As she pulled down the drive to her mansion, she saw the crime scene tape in her driveway, and her senses jumped to alert.

The tape and the smoky, charred debris that had stained the imported Italian brick reminded her that someone had tried to kill her. That her body parts, instead of her BMW’s, could have been all over the lawn….

If she hadn’t rescheduled her appointment, she would have been driving home at the time the bomb exploded. According to Sergeant Egan Caldwell, the device had been set on a timer. Which meant that someone had known her routine and had intentionally planned for the car to explode with her inside.

Could Miles have done it? Or was Carlson Woodward responsible?

But why would Carlson have wanted her dead?

Hugging her arms around herself, she scanned the front of her estate, feeling paranoid as she let herself in and checked her security system. Ever since the breakins had started in Cantara Hills, she’d been nervous. Had expected to be hit. After all, her mansion held expensive furniture, paintings, vases, collectibles, and she had several exquisite customized one-of-a-kind pieces of jewelry her father had given her over the years.

All tucked away in her safe because she rarely wore them. She enjoyed the advantages money offered, but didn’t flaunt her wealth. In fact, that money was sometimes a curse. While most girls had to worry about men wanting in their pants, she had the added hassle of wondering if they wanted to get into her bank account. Even her father used his wealth to replace his feelings for her with expensive gifts.

And the break-ins—did the police believe that Carlson Woodward was responsible for them? She frowned and walked through the kitchen to the foyer and the spiral staircase, then wound her way up to her suite.

But why would Carlson steal from the neighbors? He didn’t need the money. Her little brother, Miles, was a different story. He was so desperate for cash and angry with some of her friends who’d begun refusing him loans, that he might resort to theft.

She slipped into a bathing suit, sighing as her bare feet sank into the plush Oriental rug. Padding barefoot down the steps, she exited through the sunroom, grabbed a towel from the pool house and dropped it, along with her cell phone, onto a patio chair. The last vestiges of sunlight had faded hours ago, but the pool lights illuminated the terrace, bathing the intricately patterned stonework in a pale glow. The smell of roses from the garden along with hydrangeas bordering the patio scented the air, disguising the hint of chlorine, and she stared into the shimmering aquamarine water.

Still, thoughts of Carlson’s attack on Caroline haunted her. She and Caroline had been neighbors and friends for years now. Apparently, Carlson had spread rumors in the community about Caroline having an affair with Sergeant Egan Caldwell, and had even called her father to stir up trouble.

Then he had attacked Caroline. Thankfully Ranger Caldwell had rescued Caroline and shot Carlson. Unfortunately Egan had been injured in the confrontation. Now Caroline had accompanied him to Austin to take care of him while he recuperated. Taylor still couldn’t believe that Caroline had fallen for the surly ranger.

She dove into the water and began a crawl stroke. She and Caroline had joked about the three cowboy cops who’d invaded their country club community with their big bodies, hard attitudes and…guns. They’d dubbed Lieutenant Brody McQuade, Kimberly’s brother, the intense one. Sergeant Egan Caldwell, the surly one. And Sergeant Hayes Keller—he had a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas.

Still, an odd tingling rippled through her as she thought about him—he was all bad attitude. Big, brawny, muscular, with eyes as black as soot and a temper as hot as fire. He was just the kind of man she normally avoided because he looked as if he could snap a person into pieces with just one look. But still, he was dangerously sexy….

Her stomach clenched. Where had that thought come from?

She didn’t even like the guy. When he’d questioned her, she’d felt his disdain carving a hole through her.

She’d be glad when he left the area.

She swam another lap, counting strokes, but suddenly the lights flickered off, both outside and inside, pitching the terrace into darkness. Her breath hitched. There wasn’t a storm cloud in sight, no reason for a power failure.

Something was wrong.

Scanning the terrace and garden for signs of an intruder, she swam to the pool edge to get out and call security. Suddenly a movement at the edge of the gardens by the pool house caught her eye.

A man?

Panic shot through her. She had to call for help. But the chair where she’d put her phone was next to the gardens.

And the only unlocked door was the sunroom door. She’d have to pass the pool house to reach it.

Taking a deep breath, she took off running, but before she reached the door, someone clamped a gloved hand over her mouth and encircled her neck with the other. She clawed at his hands, but he dug his fingers into her larynx, cutting off her air. Remembering the self-defense moves she’d learned, she jabbed her elbow in his chest, brought her knee up then stomped down on his foot.

He growled in fury and tightened both hands around her throat. Blind panic assaulted her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. Desperate, she reached for something to use as a weapon as they fell against a patio chair. Her hand closed around a garden shovel and she stabbed backward with it, but he knocked it from her hand and it skittered across the terrace.

Enraged, he punched her jaw so hard her ears rang and she saw stars.

She had to fight back. But he hit her again, her legs buckled and her knees hit the stone with a painful thud. He shoved her face down, and she tasted blood as her head slammed against the brick wall encircling the patio. Then he dragged her toward the pool.

Summoning her last bit of strength, she flailed and kicked, clawed at him, but they tumbled into the pool.

Gasping, she struggled to fight her way back to the surface, but he was too strong. She held her breath, but her lungs were on fire, and he squeezed her throat so tightly that she choked and inhaled water.

Then an empty darkness sucked her into its vortex.

HAYES PULLED TO A STOP at the iron-gated entrance to Taylor Landis’s estate, and pressed the intercom button. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited, but she didn’t respond. Dammit, even if she wasn’t home, didn’t she have servants at her beck and call day and night?

He pressed the call button again, his impatience growing. What the hell was she doing? Lounging in some hot bath with cucumbers over her eyes, sipping champagne? Entertaining one of her rich guy friends? Maybe they were wallowing in bed with all their money.

Hell, maybe she wasn’t home. Probably out shopping.

Still, he had to make sure she was safe. Resigned, he scanned the key card through the security system. But the card didn’t work. Dammit, had she changed the system without informing them?

Or could something be wrong?

His heartbeat slammed in his chest, and he climbed out, removed his weapon, vaulted over the fence and jogged through the oaks lining the mile-long driveway, scanning the property for an intruder.

As the house slid into view, he searched the front yard, the sign of the crime scene tape a reminder that Brody might be right—that Taylor Landis might be in danger. He sped up until he reached the house, a cold monstrosity made of stone and brick with arches and palladium windows.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled. Why were the lights off?

The lingering odor of smoke and charred grass assaulted him, and he paused, a noise breaking the quiet. Water? A sprinkler maybe? But it had rained last night so why would Taylor have the sprinkler on?

He hurried to the front door and rang the doorbell. The sound reverberated through the cavernous inside, an empty sound that came unanswered. He pressed it again, then glanced through a front window. Nothing looked out of place. But it was pitch-dark inside. Quiet. No movement. And there hadn’t been a storm to knock out the power.

What if someone had disarmed Taylor’s security or cut her lights?

Another noise jarred him, and he jerked his head toward the side of the house, then realized the noise had come from the back.

Sucking in a breath, he wielded his gun and slowly inched along the length of the house to the side, then around the corner where a terrace held a pool, sitting area, fireplace, cooking pit and a pool house. A clay flowerpot was overturned, dirt spilled across the stone.

Senses alert, his gaze swept the perimeter and the gardens. A water hose lay on the ground, spraying the stone. He shut off the water, wondering why someone would have directed it toward the pool instead of the lawn.

His breath caught as he neared the pool. A body was floating facedown inside.

God.

It was Taylor Landis.




Chapter Two (#ulink_d03c62fd-6ba4-5809-9e6d-dab6f5fb1ac8)


Heart pounding, Hayes laid his gun beside the pool, threw off his Stetson and boots, then dove into the water. He flipped Taylor over, cursing at the bruises on her face and neck as he carried her up the steps. Her long blond hair was a tangled mass around her slender face, and her arms dangled beside her, limp and lifeless.

He eased her onto one of the pool chairs, guilt nagging him for thinking that she’d been out shopping while she’d obviously been struggling for her life.

He quickly checked for a pulse. Hell, he couldn’t find one.

He punched the number for security. “Taylor Landis was assaulted. I need an ambulance and CSI team ASAP, and have your people search the surrounding area!”

He disconnected the call, then started chest compressions, tilted her head back, gently moved aside her hair, pinched her nose and began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. “Come on, Taylor, breathe.”

Instead, she lay as limp as a rag doll, deathly pale.

Sweat exploded across his brow as he continued CPR.

Another breath. More chest compressions. Sirens wailed in the distance, coming closer. “Come on, Taylor, don’t die on me. Fight, dammit.”

He inhaled, closed his lips over hers again, and said a silent prayer that he hadn’t lost her already. Suddenly her body jerked and she gasped, a strangled plea for air. She was alive….

He muttered a silent thanks as he watched her eyes flicker.

She coughed, choking and gulping in air, and he tilted her head sideways so she could release the excess water trapped in her lungs. Her body trembled, then she slowly opened her eyes and her terrorized gaze met his.

Did she remember what had happened? Could she identify her attacker?

TAYLOR SHIVERED, CLAWING her way through the darkness. She was cold and shaking and ached all over. And she was so weak…What had happened?

Muddied, terrifying memories crashed back and panic bolted through her. The pool…the attack…she’d been fighting off the man, but he’d pushed her under water…

She had almost died.

A strangled cry escaped her, and she blinked to clear her vision, then stared in confusion at the man above her.

Sergeant Hayes Keller.

His black eyes pierced her like lasers, while his hands gripped her by the shoulders. For a brief moment, fear seized her, but he stroked her cheek so gently that a tidal wave of emotions welled inside her and tears flowed down her face.

“Shh, you’re going to be all right now, Taylor. I’ve called an ambulance.”

She gave a slight nod, then swallowed hard to stifle another cry, but the pitiful sound came out anyway. Embarrassed, she pressed her hand over her eyes to regain control and shield herself from his probing look.

She hated to appear weak in front of anyone. Especially this big tough guy with the bad attitude. He didn’t like her, and she didn’t like him.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” He lifted her fingers from her face, his voice husky and low.

“I’m…okay,” she whispered, although her throat felt raw and her voice sounded strained and broken. The effort it took for her to talk triggered a coughing spell, and he lifted her at an angle, murmuring comforting words until the fit subsided, and she sagged back against him.

“Taylor, did you see your attacker? Do you know who did this?”

She shook her head. “Too dark…”

“Was he on foot? Did you hear a car?”

“I don’t know.” An involuntary shudder rocked her. “He jumped me from behind….”

He clenched his jaw, looking harsh, yet his hands were tender as he stroked her back. “Just relax,” he said. “Let me get you a towel or something.”

He eased her back down on the chair, and she clutched his arm, not wanting him to leave.

“I’ll be right back.” He rushed away but returned in seconds and wrapped a thick, plush bath towel around her.

“I need to open the gate for the ambulance,” he said. “The security system was off and I couldn’t get through.”

She frowned, then realized that her attacker must have disarmed the alarm. But when? And how?

“Inside,” she said in a ragged voice. “By the mudroom entrance.”

He nodded, raced to the side entrance then disappeared inside the house. Terrified that her attacker might still be lurking nearby, she glanced around the terrace. There hadn’t been a car in the drive when she’d arrived home. And she hadn’t heard one after she went in the house. He must have come in on foot.

The rose garden with its canopy of trees, bushes and elaborate labyrinth of flower beds normally looked inviting but now it seemed eerie, a place for an intruder to hide. Even her home with its fortress of rooms would provide cover. He could be in a closet or one of the extra suites or even in her bedroom, for that matter.

Another chill swept through her.

What if her attacker was inside? What if he killed the ranger, then returned to finish her off?

HAYES HAD TO HURRY. He didn’t like leaving Taylor alone for a minute. She was too pale, scared to death, and her attacker might still be on the premises. With ten thousand square feet of house and three acres, no telling where the bastard might be.

He could even be in the house. Had he tried to kill Taylor so he could rob her? Or could her brother, Miles, have attacked her because of her inheritance?

He yanked his boots back on, and they squeaked on the Italian marble tile as he entered the mansion. He paused to listen, but it was quiet. Too quiet. If the security system had been breached because of the power outage, it should be beeping. The security team would also have been notified and would have shown up by now.

Someone had disarmed the alarm intentionally.

He located the security system panel and pushed the manual button to open the gates, grateful to hear the sirens approaching. Then he jogged back outside to Taylor. He’d do a thorough search of the property, house and system once she was taken care of.

She was crouched in the lounge chair, clutching the towel around her, trembling. He scanned the area, walked to the edge of the gardens and checked. But he saw no movement in the carefully tailored layout of trimmed bushes and rose vines. Something caught his eye on a low tree branch. A hair had gotten caught in the twig. A long blond hair but not as blond as Taylor’s. A woman’s hair.

But Taylor said she’d been attacked by a man.

He bagged the hair anyway for trace.

On edge, he strode back to Taylor, this time standing guard. His jaw clenched at the sight of the scrapes and abrasions on her knees and hands. A bruise darkened her cheek and her nails were jagged and bloody, indicating she’d fought her assailant. Good for her.

Damn bastard. He couldn’t stand the thought of any man beating on a woman. Maybe they’d find some trace evidence or DNA.

“What happened?” he asked bluntly.

She winced, biting down on her lip as if the horror of the memory was haunting her. “I came down for a swim,” she whispered, coughing in between the words.

He grimaced, knowing her throat was hurting, her vocal chords damaged from the attack.

“He attacked you inside or out here?”

“Out here.” She shuddered visibly. “I was swimming laps, then the lights went out.” She paused, and her hand went involuntarily to her throat. Whether from pain or trauma he didn’t know. Maybe both.

“Then I saw a movement beside the garden and got scared, so I swam to the edge and climbed out. I tried to make it inside, but he grabbed me from behind.”

The siren screeched, announcing the arrival of the paramedics and Hayes leaned over Taylor. “I’ll take you around front to them, then I’ll search the premises.”

She nodded although she tensed when he lifted her and raced to the ambulance. The EMTs met them, and two security officers screeched to a stop, also vaulting into motion. The CSI unit followed a second later.

A thin wiry security guard for Cantara Hills spoke first. “We have other teams dispatched, searching the surrounding houses, canvassing the neighborhood.”

Hayes nodded while the EMTs examined Taylor. The CSI tech approached with a kit.

“Process her,” he told them. Although the chlorinated water might have washed away or destroyed trace evidence.

“We’ll need to take her in for X-rays, an EKG and lab work,” one of the paramedics said.

Hayes angled his head toward Taylor. “I’ll meet you at the hospital. I want to search the house first in case the perp is inside or left evidence.”

Taylor’s gaze sought his, and he offered a brusque smile. She looked incredibly small and fragile, as if she didn’t want him to leave, but that was shock talking. She’d never given him the time of day before.

Shaking off the thought, he left her with the medics so he could focus on the crime scene.

One of the CSI agents began with Taylor while the second one followed him around to the terrace. “Consider the crime scene as the pool area and backyard,” he told the criminologist. “Our victim first saw her attacker by the gardens, so check for footprints, trace, anything you can find.”

He gestured around the terrace. “My guess is he knocked over that plant while trying to escape. He probably ran through the gardens, jumped the fence and disappeared on foot, so look for footprints. Maybe his car was parked on a neighboring street. Or maybe he lives nearby.” Hell, by now he might have cleaned up, disposed of the clothes he’d worn during the attack and be safely in his house or bed.

Then again, Taylor hadn’t been in the pool that long. Maybe he hadn’t escaped.

Hopefully one of the security guys would turn up something. “I’m going to check the inside premises, see if our guy might be hiding in one of the rooms.”

He hoped to hell he was inside Taylor’s. Then he could arrest the SOB and make him pay for hurting her.

But first, he’d like to take a fist to him for the bruises on her face and neck.

And if he’d hired Montoya to kill Kimberly…

Well, if he had, Hayes had a good excuse to kill him.

TAYLOR COULDN’T SHAKE the realization that she’d almost died as she allowed the EMTs to examine her. If it hadn’t been for Sergeant Hayes Keller, she would still be floating in that pool. Dead. Her life over.

And who would care?

Her opulent mansion with its thirty-plus rooms mocked her. She had Caroline, Margaret and Victoria, but no significant male….

The CSI technician, a young woman with sandyblond hair, offered her a friendly smile. “We need to photograph your injuries, ma’am.”

Taylor frowned, feeling violated all over again as she dropped the towel and the woman began to snap pictures.

While she tried to lift prints from Taylor’s neck, then scraped beneath her fingernails, Taylor closed her eyes, focusing on anything besides the attack. But images of the Texas Ranger’s eyes flickered in her head. She could still feel his breath on her face, his touch on her mouth. His dark eyes had held worry….

Impossible.

He didn’t even like her. He was simply a cop doing a job.

But no man had ever treated her as gently as he had when he’d comforted her.

Good grief, she was pathetic. Was she so desperate for comfort that she’d conjure an attraction between them, and a heart in the cold man beneath that badge?

Her ping-ponging emotions must be due to her upcoming birthday. She was turning the big three-oh. Her biological clock was ticking like a time bomb. And although people assumed she’d host a big bash to celebrate, she wouldn’t.

Besides, turning thirty had its own consequences. She’d inherit the millions from the trust fund her father had reserved for her.

Yet he wouldn’t personally show to celebrate the big day.

And Miles, her half brother, would hate her even more.

The argument she’d had with him earlier taunted her. The resentment in his tone, the accusations in his eyes. For a moment, she’d been afraid of him. He’d gripped her arm and shouted at her, had sounded out of control, almost threatening. And then that phone call…

No. She didn’t like the path her mind was taking.

Miles wouldn’t try to kill her, would he?




Chapter Three (#ulink_52c6b810-bef0-5304-850f-99d6423d7ea9)


Hayes checked the circuit breakers and restored power before searching the mansion. Throwing some light in the house might drive out the perp, or at least strip the guy of his advantage.

He gripped his weapon in one hand and kept his eyes trained for the intruder as he moved through the lower level. Taylor’s basement housed a fully equipped gym, rec room with pool table, bar and a movie theater, as well as a separate kitchen and two suites. Hell, her basement furnishings were nicer than anything he owned.

He slowly climbed the stairs, pausing to listen, but other than the hum of the air conditioner and the padding of his boots on the kitchen tiles as he eased through the breakfast room, the house was silent. He crossed the formal dining room, to the living room, to the office. Built-in bookshelves held a variety of titles, while the room held a state-of-the-art computer system, sitting area and conference table. Photographs of Taylor and her father, then Taylor at various charity functions, decorated the walls, along with award plaques and a framed diploma from a private school in Switzerland. She’d apparently earned a business degree and now ran the Landis Foundation.

So she was not only beautiful and rich but smart.

He stored that information while he checked the family room with fireplace and twelve-foot ceilings and a ballroom with Palladian windows which obviously was used to host her elaborate parties. He’d seen photographs of them in the society section of the newspaper.

A place where he wouldn’t be caught dead.

Finally, he found his way through a hallway to a bedroom suite the size of an apartment.

He wondered if this was Taylor’s suite, but saw no personal belongings in the room. Decorated in earth tones, it held a king-size brass bed, dresser, flat-screen TV and sitting room. A massive bath in gold and white with a Jacuzzi and dozens of plush towels overflowing a baker’s rack opened to a large walk-in closet.

The suite was empty, so he headed back to the foyer, then climbed the curved staircase, again pausing to listen. But he heard nothing. He still couldn’t relax, not until he’d searched every square inch of the house.

Taking a deep breath, he clenched his hand tighter around his gun and combed the suites to the left, then retraced his steps back to the bank of rooms on the right. In the first bedroom, a white four-poster bed draped in blue-and-white satin drew his eye.

Judging from the lived-in look and feminine furnishings, he guessed it was Taylor’s room. A black satin robe lay draped across the bed and a pair of slippers peeked from beneath the footboard. The room looked like her—tasteful, classy, soft.

For a moment, he imagined her sprawled on the satin sheets wearing nothing but a skimpy teddy or…nothing at all, and his body hardened with desire.

He quickly shook off the image. What in the hell was wrong with him?

An iPod and speaker system sat opposite the bed on a cluster of shelves holding candles, and in the corner a dresser held a silver brush and comb set and a jewelry box. He wondered if Taylor kept all her jewelry so accessible, but assumed she had a built-in safe somewhere in the house for her more expensive pieces. When she was released from the hospital, he’d have her check the house to see if anything was missing.

A bay window with chaise and reading lamp occupied one corner with a window seat separating two oversized chairs. He bypassed them and entered an elegant bath in blue and white, and a set of closets. Inside, he clenched his jaw at the sight of glittery gowns, expensive wraps, designer shoes and business suits. The second closet held Taylor’s casual clothes, he assumed, since it was filled with sundresses, slacks, designer sweaters, and one wall housed shelves holding bathing suits and summer wear.

He snarled. His yearly salary wouldn’t equal her monthly clothing allowance.

It didn’t matter. He had to focus on his mission.

The rooms were empty, and didn’t look as if they’d been touched by an intruder, meaning the perpetrator probably hadn’t attacked her with the intention of theft.

So not a break-in gone awry. The perp’s intentions had been more sinister—murder.

Moving on, he searched the other rooms, sighing as he descended the steps. Just as he was bypassing the office, he noticed a broken fingernail caught on the edge of the rug by the desk. He stooped and picked it up, wondering who it belonged to. The phone jangled so he bagged the fingernail, then hurried to the desk and checked the caller ID. An international call. Her father?

He picked up the receiver. “Taylor Landis’s residence.”

A long moment of silence. “Who in the hell is this?”

“Sergeant Hayes Keller, Texas Ranger. Whom am I speaking with?”

“Lionel Landis. What’s going on? Why are you at my daughter’s house? And why are you answering her phone?”

Hayes grimaced at the man’s condescending tone. But he had a right to know his daughter had been attacked. And Hayes had to explore every angle. If the assault on Taylor wasn’t related to Kimberly’s murder, it might have something to do with the wealthy Landis family. Then he’d need information on the family and their business dealings.

“Sir, I hate to have to tell you this, but your daughter was assaulted tonight.”

“What? My God, is she all right?”

“Yes, sir. But the paramedics transported her to the hospital for X-rays and observation.”

“I heard about those break-ins in the community. Was that what this was about?”

“I don’t know yet, but I can assure you I’ll find out.”

A long pause. “Maybe I should hire a bodyguard to watch her around the clock.”

Hayes clenched his jaw. Odd that her father didn’t offer to fly back to see her himself. Instead, he wanted to send hired help.

A private bodyguard would mean Hayes wouldn’t have to spend time with Taylor himself.

But damn. He was a ranger, and he had to finish this case, find the man who’d tried to kill Taylor. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. Landis. I’ll personally provide protection for your daughter 24-7.”

He hung up the phone but noticed the desk drawer ajar and examined it. The bottom drawer had been jimmied, papers tossed around.

The killer had been in this room. He’d have CSI dust it for prints.

What had he been looking for?

EXHAUSTION WEIGHED ON TAYLOR as the nurse helped her settle into the hospital bed. She’d been treated, had blood drawn, undergone an EKG, then wheeled to X-ray where they’d x-rayed her chest and lungs. Thankfully all the tests were clear.

Other than nearly dying tonight, she was healthy.

Still, they’d hooked her up to an IV, checked her vitals, then the nurse offered her a sedative. But Taylor expected Sergeant Keller to show up any minute to question her, and she wanted to be coherent.

Besides, she avoided taking pills or medications unless it was absolutely necessary. Too many people she’d met at parties relied on drugs or alcohol for recreation and survival, and she was determined not to fall into that dangerous lifestyle so often portrayed in the tabloids as the rich and careless.

Still, fatigue pulled at her, and she finally dozed off. But nightmares of the attack haunted her, and she tossed and turned, battling the terrifying memories.

She was running, fighting, struggling for air, being pushed under the water, held down…drowning.

She woke, gasping for air, her heart racing. Gray had settled over the room like a fog, the sound of someone breathing echoing in the quiet. Panic shot through her.

Oh, God, her attacker had come here to finish killing her.

She threw off the covers to run, but suddenly two firm hands gripped her arms. “Shh, Taylor, it’s me. Hayes.”

She was just about to scream, but the sound of his husky voice registered, and she stifled a sob.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, but you were sleeping.”

She relaxed against him, but her heart was still pounding. “I was dreaming about the attack….”

He smoothed her hair from her cheek, then eased down onto the edge of the bed. “It’s over now. You’re safe.”

She nodded and forced herself to block out the terrifying images from her nightmare. Despite her efforts, her hand went to her throat.

“You didn’t find him at the house?” she asked.

He shook his head, and she noticed he was wearing the same jeans and shirt he had on when he’d pulled her from the pool. They were still damp, and he must be uncomfortable, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Your assailant caused the power outage by tampering with the circuit breakers, but I didn’t find anyone inside. CSI is dusting for prints and searching both the inside and outside, as well, for footprints, fibers, anything that might help us identify him.”

“He didn’t steal anything?”

“Not that I could tell. But you’ll need to inventory your valuables, jewelry, etcetera, to verify if anything is missing.”

“I’ll do that tomorrow when I get home.”

He gave a clipped nod. “The desk in your office had been ransacked. Do you have any idea what the intruder might have been looking for?”

She shook her head. “Maybe financial information on the foundation?”

“It’s possible. You should examine your files and follow up on any credit cards.”

She bit her lip. “Yes, I will.”

“I left a guard at the house overnight in case he returns or someone else shows up.”

“Thank you, Sergeant.”

“You can call me Hayes.” He hesitated, then his gaze zeroed in on her nails. “Your nails are real?”

She nodded. “Why?”

“I found a broken red nail, looked like an acrylic, inside your house.”

She frowned. “I often have guests over, females. It could have come from any one of them.”

“You’re sure your attacker was male?”

His question threw her off guard. “I think so.”

“I also found a blond hair caught in a twig in the tree by the garden.”

She rubbed her temple. “I have parties out there, too. It could belong to anyone.”

“I’ll see what forensics says.” He paused. “Can you talk about the attack now?”

She propped herself up against the pillows. “I told you what happened already.”

“Indulge me and go over it again. Sometimes the passage of time allows victims to remember more details.”

She sighed, hating to rehash the night but knowing it was imperative. “Okay. I got home around ten, but I was restless, antsy after all that’s happened in the neighborhood lately.” In fact, she hadn’t slept well since Kimberly McQuade had died. If she hadn’t hosted the party that night, maybe the young woman would still be alive.

She glanced at Hayes, suddenly realizing that he probably felt the same way, probably blamed her.

“Go on,” he said sharply.

She cleared her throat; it was still so dry it hurt to talk. “I couldn’t sleep, so I checked the alarm and changed into my swimsuit. Then I went for a swim.”

“Had you been drinking?”

Irritation gnawed at her. “I had a glass of wine with dinner, but I wasn’t drunk if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You usually swim alone at night?”

She tensed at the scrutiny in his tone. Did he think she was being stupid, that she’d brought the attack on herself? “Sometimes,” she said truthfully. “I’m a good swimmer, and I had the security system set.” She glared at him. “Besides, I thought you rangers had caught the killer and that I was safe.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, and she knew she’d scored a direct hit.

“Your attack may or may not be related to the other crimes,” he said sharply. “You’re wealthy, everyone knows that. You must have some enemies.”

She tore her gaze away with a shiver. If he’d meant to scare her, he had.

“Were the lights on when you came out by the pool?”

“Yes, Sergeant. I would have called security if they hadn’t been.”

He simply arched a dark brow, his expression cold and hard, and she silently willed herself to stop reacting. What did she care what Hayes Keller thought of her?

When she continued, she tried to relay the events as if it had happened to a stranger, not to her. “I was swimming laps when the power flickered off. I got nervous, decided to see what caused the outage, then I saw a movement by the gardens. I got out and ran toward the door…Before I reached it, the man jumped me from behind.” She paused, unable to breathe for a moment as she remembered his fingers around her throat.

Again, the ranger stared at her with an intensity that made her more nervous.

She could not break down in front of the man again. “We struggled and he tried to strangle me, then we fell into the pool.”

“He fell into the pool with you?”

“Yes. I fought him, but he kept choking me, then pushed me underwater and held me down.”

He made a low sound with his teeth. “That’s probably the reason he turned on the water hose, to wash away his prints. But I’ll have the pool dragged for trace.” He paused. “You said you were a swimmer?”

“Yes, high-school swim team. I set the record for holding my breath the longest on my team.”

“That’s probably what saved you.”

“No, Sergeant Keller, you saved me,” she said with a tentative smile. “If you hadn’t shown up when you had…”

He glanced away for the first time, his jaw clenched tight, then shrugged. “Just doing my job, ma’am.”

She didn’t like the way he said ma’am, as if it was an insult. “Well, thank you anyway.”

His eyes darkened, narrowed to slits as if he was issuing some kind of silent warning. “You don’t owe me thanks. Just answer the questions.”

She tensed at his brusque tone. Just when she thought he was human, he turned back into a growling lion. “What else do you want to know?”

The bite to her voice echoed in the silence for a moment before he replied. “You didn’t see the man’s face?”

“No. He was wearing a mask.”

“Like a ski mask?”

“Yes. And gloves. Latex gloves.”

His brows pinched together with his frown. “Maybe those will turn up or we’ll lift some trace off of your fingernails.”

She nodded, glad she’d fought back.

“Anything else you remember about your attacker? A particular odor? His height, size?”

“No, it’s all so foggy.”

His dark gaze met hers. “Tell me about your day, what happened earlier, before the attack.”

She scrunched her nose in thought. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Just do it, Taylor. Retrace your steps.”

“All right, but you don’t have to be so ornery.” She tried to think back. “I spent the morning handling routine business matters for the foundation. Had lunch there. Then a business meeting with the City Board at five that ran till about seven. After that, I met a friend for dinner in San Antonio.”

“Did you notice anyone following you during the day? Or when you left the restaurant?”

She rubbed her temple where a headache pulsed. “No.”

He folded his arms. “Who attended the board meeting?”

“All of the board members. Sarah DeMarco, Devon Goldenrod—”

“Kenneth Sutton?”

“Yes.”

“I was told that he and Kimberly McQuade had an argument before she died. Do you know what their disagreement was about?”

She frowned. “No. Kimberly was looking over the campaign budget, and she’d also reviewed the other finances for the board. Maybe there was a problem.”

“So they might have argued about money?”

“I really don’t know. Why is that important?”

“I’m just tying up loose ends. Sometimes small details can offer clues.”

She conceded his point. After all, he was the cop. The chip-on-the-shoulder one, but it looked as if she was stuck with him.

“So, did anything unusual happen at the meeting?”

She hesitated, hated to impugn Kenneth unnecessarily.

“Taylor, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me the truth.”

“Kenneth seemed excited about planning ahead for the gubernatorial election, but we did have a tense moment.”

He leaned forward. “About what?”

“The bid for the new city library and to extend the tourist area by the Riverwalk. There’s talk that the bid was tampered with.”

“And that Kenneth was involved?”

“That’s what I’ve heard, but he denied it and I believe him.”

Silence met her statement, making her wonder what he was thinking. “You don’t like Kenneth Sutton, do you?”

“He’s a politician. No, I don’t trust him.

“And after the meeting? Who did you have dinner with?”

She hesitated.

“Taylor?”

She twisted her hands together. “Margaret Hathaway.”

His jaw tightened again. “You two are friends?”

“Yes. We met at our favorite restaurant and sushi bar, Bluefish. Margaret’s wedding to Devon Goldenrod is around the corner, and we were finalizing wedding plans.”

“Did anything unusual happen while you were there?”

“Not unusual. But I ran into my half brother, Miles.”

His mouth thinned. “How did that go?”

She sighed, knotting the bedsheet between her fingers. She hated to discuss family. But if the ranger asked at the restaurant, he’d find out on his own. Her problems with her brother weren’t exactly a secret.

“Taylor, I know that Miles has been hitting up friends for loans. Caroline told us that already.” He cleared his throat. “Is that what he wanted with you?”

So much for family privacy. Then again, she should be used to it. Just because she was wealthy, tabloids, reporters and neighbors thought her life was food for the gossipmongers. “Yes, but I turned him down again. He blew up, made a scene….”

She looked away, his phone call echoing in her head.

Hayes narrowed his eyes. “He threatened you, didn’t he?”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “Not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

She finally faced him. “He told me I’d be sorry for turning my back on him.”

He stood, bracing his feet apart, and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “That sounds like a threat to me.”

She shrugged, unable to voice the truth. That she was afraid of Miles.

“I’ve posted a guard outside your door.”

“You think that’s necessary?”

He nodded. “And your father called your house. I told him I’d protect you 24-7.”

Taylor’s stomach dipped.

“I’m going to talk to your little brother. Find out if he tried to make good on his threat.” His snakeskin cowboy boots pounded the floor as he pivoted. “Meanwhile, think hard, Taylor. In the morning I want you to make a list of any enemies you might have, former boyfriends or current ones who might want to harm you. Is there one you can think of offhand?”

She lowered her head. “No. I haven’t been involved with anyone recently.”

“In the past?”

She hadn’t broken any hearts if that’s what he meant. She’d never let a man get that close. “Maybe this was a random break-in.”

“Just make the list. If it wasn’t a robbery then someone wanted you dead.”

A chill went through her. “You don’t have to remind me, Sergeant.”

“No? Well, think about this. The person who tried to strangle you could be someone you know from the foundation, someone who has it in for your family, someone who wants your money.”

His dark gaze pierced her. “And it very well may be someone you know and trust, someone you’re even close to. Someone you think is a friend, or your very own brother.”




Chapter Four (#ulink_2e683d02-8a62-575c-abbe-6f01fbca6eb3)


Taylor’s heart raced. Surely the ranger was wrong. None of her friends would actually harm her. Although neither she nor Caroline had thought that Carlson Woodward was dangerous and they’d been mistaken.

And what about Miles? He’d always been jealous of her and had done some underhanded things when they were younger, but he’d never been violent.

Not until recently. But lately she’d seen a spark flare in his eyes that scared her.

His substance abuse and gambling problems had escalated, making him seem desperate at times, and…frightening.

A knock sounded at the door, and suddenly Margaret Hathaway rushed in, her face stricken with concern.

“Oh my God, Taylor, I heard what happened. Are you all right?”

Taylor clenched the sheets as Hayes gave Margaret a feral look, a look that nearly froze Margaret in her rush to hug Taylor.

“I’m fine, Margaret,” Taylor said, although tears blurred her sight. She could hold herself together in the face of Hayes’s brusqueness, but her best friend’s tenderness unraveled her calm facade. Although Margaret was old enough to be her mother, they had bonded as soon as they had met. The one person in the world Taylor trusted, the one who loved her unconditionally, was Margaret. And Taylor felt the same way about her friend. Not only was Margaret smart but kindhearted, and she’d faced her own share of problems and pain, although she hid them well from the prying eyes of the public.

Margaret bypassed Hayes and swept Taylor into a hug. “God, this is awful, Tay. What happened?”

Taylor relayed the short version of the story, well aware of Hayes’s scowl.

“Who in the world would want to hurt you, honey?”

“I don’t know, Margaret.” Taylor sighed. “But Sergeant Keller saved my life.”

Surprise registered on Margaret’s face, then she gave Hayes a curious look and smiled. “Sergeant, thank you so much for rescuing Taylor. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to her.”

Hayes’s dark eyes turned icy. “Just doing my job, ma’am. Where were you this evening?”

“Sergeant Keller, you’re out of line,” Taylor said sharply.

“Like I told you earlier, Miss Landis, your attacker could be one of your friends.”

“It certainly isn’t Margaret,” Taylor said between clenched teeth. “She would never hurt me.”

“That’s right,” Margaret said, obviously insulted at the thought. “Taylor and I are best friends.”

“Then you won’t mind answering my question,” Hayes said in a lethal voice.

Margaret tightened her jaw, and Taylor gripped her hand. “I told you she wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I had dinner with Taylor, then met my fiancé, Devon Goldenrod, at his house,” Margaret said. “You can ask him.”

Hayes arched a brow. “Right, the golden boy who’s vying for votes in the next City Board election.”

Taylor grimaced at the disdain in Hayes’s voice. She’d heard he’d had a rough life but he didn’t have to take his attitude out on her and Margaret.

Then again, for a moment, pain had flashed in his eyes when he’d seen Margaret hug her. Kimberly had mentioned that he’d been adopted, that there were some things he refused to talk about.

Margaret folded her arms. “Sergeant, what are you doing to find the person who attacked Taylor?”

His lips thinned into a deeper frown. “I’ve processed the crime scene and will be investigating everyone in Miss Landis’s life for motive.”

“What about keeping her safe?” Margaret asked.

An evil grin slid across the ranger’s face. “Well, ma’am,” he drawled mockingly, “I’ve got that covered.”

“How?” Margaret asked.

“I’ve been assigned as her bodyguard day and night.”

Taylor’s stomach sizzled with nerves yet she pressed her fingers to her lips, remembering how gentle he’d been when he resuscitated her. How in the world was she going to endure being near this man when he obviously hated everything about her?

HAYES BALLED HIS HANDS into fists to control his temper. Dammit, Taylor Landis looked all soft and needy. And she’d touched those luscious lips and looked up at him as if she was remembering his mouth on hers when he’d brought her back to life.

Hell. He couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t touch her mouth or any other part of her body again.

So he lashed out at her by taking perverse joy in taunting her rich friend. Maybe it was payback for all the taunting he’d received as a kid.

Margaret narrowed her eyes. “For some reason that doesn’t make me feel any better, Sergeant.”

He threw his head back and chuckled. “Don’t worry, Ms. Hathaway, I won’t let anything bad happen to the little princess.”

“You’d better not.” Margaret’s eyes flashed with emotions that Hayes refused to allow to get to him. “Because she’s going to be my maid of honor at my wedding, and I don’t want her showing up in a cast or on crutches.”

Or not showing up because she was dead, Hayes thought, although he refrained from comment. “In light of the fact that someone tried to kill you tonight, Taylor, you shouldn’t put yourself in the limelight right now.”

Margaret’s face blanched with fear, and Hayes’s gut tightened.

“He’s right,” Margaret said. “I’ll postpone everything until after the police find out who did this to you, Tay.”

“No, you won’t,” Taylor said, shooting Hayes a harsh look.

“But I don’t want to take a chance on you being hurt,” Margaret argued.

“She’s right, Taylor,” Hayes said. “You need to go into hiding until we find the man who attacked you.”

Anger sizzled in Taylor’s sky-blue eyes. “I refuse to run and hide. I’m not going to let some creep scare me from living my life.”

Hayes glared at her. “Then you’re a fool and asking for trouble.”

She turned a saccharine sweet smile on Hayes that was so fake it fueled his temper. “But, Sergeant, you’ll be with me day and night to protect me.”

He met her gaze with a sinister stare, but she smiled again, and focused on Margaret as if he was her minion.

Rage ripped through him. That was how she saw him, and he couldn’t forget it.

AS SOON AS MARGARET LEFT, Taylor fell into an exhausted sleep. Fitful images of the attack drove her awake several times, but when she opened her eyes, she saw Hayes Keller sitting in the chair in the corner watching her. She shouldn’t have found comfort in having him close by, but his big masculine presence soothed her nerves, and she rolled to her side and drifted back to sleep.

The last time she woke, sunlight streamed through the hospital window, and she checked the chair. He was slightly slumped, his head having fallen sideways in sleep, and his massive chest moved up and down with his breath. Catching him off guard in sleep seemed somehow intimate.

She noticed the fine dark stubble along his rugged jaw, the way his thick lips formed a constant scowl, the little curl in his dark hair that made her want to run her hands through it. His jaw was broad, his nose blunt and slightly crooked as if it had been broken and his eyebrows were full and thick, arched to frame his eyes in a way that added to his intensity.

The sound of his breathing floated toward her, a coarse whisper just as masculine as his face and body.

Somehow in that moment, he looked almost…human. And approachable.

He suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze meeting hers, and a tingling started low and deep in her belly. Lord, he was potently sexy. Like a cowboy hero in a Western.

No, no, no. She couldn’t allow herself to fantasize about him.

His eyebrows lifted slightly, and a heartbeat of silence stretched between them, fraught with tension.

She must be insane because at that moment she wanted him.

Then the door swung open and the doctor walked in. “Good morning, Miss Landis. Let’s see if it’s time to dismiss you.”

Hayes pushed to his feet, his boots pounding as he walked to the door. “I’ll be outside. Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

She nodded, although her throat was too thick to speak. She could count on her hand the number of men she’d actually been this attracted to over the years.

Why did Hayes Keller have to be one of them?

HAYES PACED OUTSIDE TAYLOR’S hospital room. What in the hell had just happened?

After endless hours of being tortured by watching Taylor toss and turn, of wanting to crawl in bed and comfort her when she’d cried out in terror from her nightmares, he’d finally dozed off, only to have his own demons haunt him.

He had been five years old, locked in that damn closet where his adopted parents stuffed him anytime they needed to go out. Or when they just needed some peace and quiet.

Or when they wanted to punish him for being bad. And according to them, he was bad all the time so he’d spent half his young life in that tiny dark closet.

He still had claustrophobia. Hated dark closets, basements and crawl spaces.

Hell, he was a grown man now. Had his own life. A nice little cabin he’d built himself on a small ranch with tons of light where no one could bother him, where he’d never be stuck in that dark place again.

And he wouldn’t…not even in his mind.

He had escaped and had a job to do, and he’d damn well do it without allowing Taylor to get under his skin like she had earlier.

He’d survived that hellhole of a family. He could survive being assigned as her bodyguard.

All the more reason to find her attacker quickly, though, so he could leave Cantara Hills.

The door opened and the doctor appeared, Taylor’s chart in hand. “She’s dressing, then she can go home.”

He nodded. Margaret had brought Taylor an overnight bag. A nurse appeared with a wheelchair, and he went and retrieved his SUV from the parking garage, then pulled up in front of the hospital. Taylor climbed in and fastened her seat belt, and he maneuvered into the early morning traffic and drove to Cantara Hills.

“If we’re forced to spend time together, we should get to know each other,” Taylor said, filling the awkward silence.

He glared at her. “I intend to learn everything about you.”

Her blond brows rose, eyes sparkling. “Really?”

He pressed his mouth into a frown. “Yes, and all your friends.”

The light left her eyes. “Then tell me about yourself. About your family.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I’m here to do a job, Taylor. My personal life is off-limits.”

For a brief second, hurt tugged at her expression.

He turned away from her, refused to feel guilty. “I need to go by my room at the country club and pick up my duffel bag.”

“Excuse me?” she said quietly.

“I told you I’m your bodyguard. That means I’m moving in.”

She shivered and hugged her arms around her waist. “I certainly hope you find whoever did this quickly.”

He chuckled. She obviously didn’t want him around any more than he wanted to be with her. “That’s the plan. In fact, I’d like to clean up and then I want to talk to your brother and Kenneth Sutton.”

She stared out the window, her expression pained. “I just can’t believe one of them would try to kill me.”

He clamped his mouth shut. She was too damn innocent. Just because these people were related to her or acted as if they were her friends, didn’t mean they didn’t have secrets or a motive for murder.




Chapter Five (#ulink_0b8b64ea-f542-56bd-9864-50ee389c7c01)


Taylor grimaced at the way Hayes had cut her off when she’d inquired about his family. She felt for him, but she couldn’t continue offering friendship if he was going to be so rude.

Besides, as soon as he found out who’d tried to kill her, he’d ride out of Cantara Hills and never look back.

She’d had it with men either using her or disappearing when they’d finished their agenda.

He parked in the circular drive, and she jumped out, not bothering to wait for him to open the door for her. The inside of the car had been too crowded, too hot, too filled with his male scent.

So why did his eyes haunt her?

Frustration mingled with fear as she unlocked the door. But Hayes pushed her aside and ordered her to wait while he checked the house. She paced nervously. She’d always felt safe here, but after the night before, would she ever feel safe again?

At least her estate was large so she and Hayes wouldn’t be trapped in close quarters together. She noticed her office door ajar and veered inside to see if anything was missing. Thankfully, she kept her important papers, stocks and bonds, in a safe, and she examined it first, then breathed a sigh of relief. Next she searched the desk files, but didn’t notice anything missing. Even the file she’d been reviewing regarding the discrepancy with the city council bids seemed intact.

What had the intruder been looking for? What had been important enough for him to have killed her to get it?

HAYES NOTICED THE STRICKEN look on Taylor’s face. The reality of her home invasion had finally hit her. But he steeled himself against sympathy. “Did you notice anything missing?”

She shook her head, then tucked a strand of her long blond hair behind one ear. “The safe hasn’t been open, and all my files are intact.”

So what had the killer been looking for?

“Inventory your jewelry.”

She nodded and he followed her to her suite. She looked wary as she entered her bedroom, and he remained at the threshold, shifting to lean against the frame while she sorted through her jewelry. The sight of diamonds and the glittering emeralds and sapphires served as a reminder of the yawning distance between them.

“Is everything there?”

She bit down on her bottom lip. “Yes…wait. Let me look at my other jewelry box.”

She had two?

He tugged at his Stetson as she opened her closet and retrieved a smaller box from the top shelf. The box was intricately carved, black lacquered, an Asian design although small, almost as if it had belonged to a child. She traced a finger over it lovingly and he wondered if it held special meaning for her. Maybe a gift from Daddy or a former lover?

The thought sent a small pang of jealousy streaking through him, but he brushed it off. What did he care if she had a dozen lovers? He would never be one of them.

“Taylor?”

She inhaled sharply, then lifted the lid, and her chin quivered. “It’s gone.”

“What?”

“My charm bracelet,” she said softly.

“What was it worth?”

She lifted her head, and emotions splintered her eyes. “Not much, but it was priceless to me. My mother gave it to me.” Her voice broke. “She used to add a charm every year at Christmas.”

And her mother had died when she was eight.

“Why would someone take that piece instead of all those jewels in your other chest?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, although the odd catch in her voice told him she was lying. “It’s not valuable, not monetarily, I mean. But it was special to me.”

He cleared his throat. “It had to be someone who knew where you kept it.” Meaning the thief had meant to hurt her because he knew she valued the piece. “You think your brother stole it?”

She hesitated so long he had his answer. “Let me clean up and I’ll pay Miles a visit,” she said.

“I’m going with you, but I’d like to shower first.”

He wanted to question Miles without her, yet he couldn’t leave her alone, not knowing she was in danger, so he agreed, then headed downstairs to the guest suite.

But as he stripped and climbed in beneath the warm water, he imagined her upstairs doing the same. They could have conserved water if they’d showered together.

A bitter laugh lodged in his throat. Hell, he had to be honest, at least to himself. He didn’t care about conserving water.

He was a hot-blooded man. He just wanted to see the damn woman naked.

TAYLOR STEWED OVER the bracelet while she showered. She didn’t want to believe her brother would take the charm bracelet, because he understood its significance to her.

Yet he had been furious with her the last time they’d run in to each other.

She dressed in a pair of her favorite jeans and a sleeveless silk tank and hurried down the stairs. Hayes stood in the foyer in a crisp white shirt and jeans, his Stetson shadowing his face.

“Do you know where to find Miles?”

She glanced at the grandfather clock. “At this time of the morning, he’ll still be sleeping off last night’s party.”

“Then let’s go wake him up,” Hayes said.

Her stomach quivered as they walked to his SUV, and she studied the landscape architecture of the community as he drove to Miles’s house, an English Tudor her father had bought for him for his twenty-first birthday. Of course, Miles had pouted that it wasn’t as large as the estate where Taylor lived, which had only increased the tension between the two of them.

But she actually earned a salary, and kept the mansion to host various charity functions for the foundation. She took pride in using her salary for her own personal causes—she and Margaret funded a special program for needy children and Margaret spearheaded one for pregnant teens.

“This is it?” Hayes asked as he parked in front of the Tudor.

“Yes.”

“He lives alone?”

“Most of the time, but he entertains a lot. Mostly women.”

“Your brother is the party guy, isn’t he?”

“I’m afraid so.” To the detriment of himself and anyone who cared about him.

They climbed out, and she led the way to her brother’s front door. Hayes punched the doorbell, tapping his boot on the brick stoop as they waited. Impatience made Taylor stab the button again.

No answer, so she retrieved her keys from her purse and unlocked the door. “He has to be here. It’s too early for him to be out for the day.”

“Maybe he spent the night with his latest hook-up.”

“That’s possible,” Taylor said as she pushed her way inside.

“Does Miles have a key to your house?” Hayes asked.

Her gaze swung to his, and she released a sigh. “Yes.”

He shook his head in disgust, and she bolted up the stairs toward his room. “Miles, it’s me, Taylor. Are you up there?”

No answer.

“Miles, I hope you’re decent, because I’m coming in.”




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