You're Not Safe (Texas Rangers 3)

WHOSE GENTLE SPIRIT AND SOUL

INSPIRED THE CREATION OF

SHADY GROVE CAMP.

Bragg studied the name, and touched the tip of his hat out of respect before leaving the uncomfortable beauty of the camp.

He sat in the sunshine, his eyes closed as he drank up the warmth. He loved the Hill Country. The quiet. The trees. The slower pace. He could stay here all day.

“How much longer are we going to sit here?” she said.

He ignored her, hoping she’d go away.

“I know what you are doing and I’m not going to let you ignore me.” She’d ratcheted up her voice, adding the shrill he hated. “Open your eyes and pay attention to me!”

He didn’t need to open his eyes to picture her brown hair, peaches-and-cream complexion, and the sprinkle of freckles over her nose. When she was irritated, her eyes blazed blue and her cheeks flushed pink. “Can’t you just leave me in peace? Do we always have to be talking?”

“You don’t like talking to me?”

He didn’t have to open his eyes to know she was pouting. “Not now.”

“We need to talk now. We don’t have a lot of time.”

“We’ve got twenty-four hours. That’s plenty of time.”

She huffed. “You were never a good planner. Always putting the important matters off until last.”

The nagging raked over his nerves, shattering the day’s calm. “Leave me alone.”

“You know I can’t. You know if not for me you wouldn’t have the drive or gumption to take care of the others.”

He sat up, his jaw tight, as he stared at the distant horizon. “You need to back off. I’ve gotten us this far.”

“Because I’ve been poking and prodding you the whole time. If not for me you’d still be living that boring life in Austin lost in the mindless details of your day.”

“Those mindless details have made a lot of money. Someone has to take care of business.”

“We’ve plenty of money. We don’t need more. What we need to do is talk about the next one. We need to review the details so we don’t make any mistakes.”

He sighed. “If I go over the details with you, will you leave me alone?”

“If you go over each and every detail, then yes I will leave you alone.”

“For how long?” That’s the way it had always been with them. Endless negotiations.

“I’ll leave you be. For now. Maybe even a day.”

“Swear.”

“Don’t I always keep my word?”

He laughed. “No.”

She giggled. “You love me. Admit it.”

He hated her when she bitched at him. Hated himself more when she was nice and he acquiesced.

“Come on admit it,” she cooed. “You love me.”

“Fine. I love you. Now let’s talk about killing Sam so I can get some sleep.”

Chapter Fourteen

Friday, June 6, 10 A.M.

Her body still hummed with nervous energy as Greer watched the clerk ring up the feed for the two horses. She still couldn’t decide if going to Bragg had been a good idea or not.

“That will be three hundred and two dollars,” the clerk said.

She’d known taking the old horses on would be expensive, but she’d not really put pen to paper and calculated the cost. She handed the clerk her charge card and tried not to be bothered by the expense.

She stepped back from the counter looking, but not really looking, at flower seeds as Rory and Sara’s images elbowed back into her thoughts.

Beautiful Rory had been interested in her from the start. He’d been sweet and charming, and Greer had been so grateful someone showed any interest in her. She’d never noticed Joan, or rather Sara, resented the relationship. Sara had slept with Rory a couple of times at camp and she’d really liked him. But Rory being Rory had moved on to Greer, and she’d not cared about Sara’s loss. Greer thought herself in love. If only she could have seen Sara hurt as much as she had and let her have Rory.

But Greer had literally been starving for love and Rory’s paltry offering had been nectar. She’d been naïve enough to believe the youthful, hasty promises Rory and she made. Write. Talk on the phone. Friends forever. Karma had brought them together.

But of course, outside the camp walls Rory’s old life swept him away from Sara and Greer.

The clerk handed her a receipt and she signed it, tucking the card back in her wallet. “My truck’s out front. Can I get someone to load up the feed?”

“Yes, ma’am. Go ahead and pull around back.”

As she moved through the store, the hair on the back of her neck rose. It was a subtle, practically imperceptible feeling but when she thought about it there was no denying her unease.

Stiffening, she reminded herself the sensation wasn’t uncommon. When people from her past recognized her, they stared. In their minds, once a sinner always a sinner and there’s no event more entertaining than the appearance of a she-devil to brighten an otherwise boring day.

Most times she kept on walking and didn’t bother to speak. In fact, there’d been times when she’d slinked back to her truck and raced home. But since she’d met Dr. Stewart, she’d been refusing more and more to run. She had a right to stand her ground. Yes, she’d sure as hell made a lot of mistakes, but the last she checked no one could cast the first stone.

She stopped and turned, her hand gripping the worn leather strap of her purse.

Greer spotted him instantly. He was a tall lean man. Well dressed. He still carried himself with a straight-back posture. Like his sister and his parents, he’d been a rider. The family owned a stable of the finest horses in Texas and a far cry from the nags she now owned.

When she made eye contact his gaze locked on her. His hair remained dark, but gray now lightened the temples. Deeply tanned skin gave him a youthful vigor. He had to be close to forty now.

His eyes narrowed as if he wanted to assure himself she was who he thought she was. “I haven’t seen you in town in a long time.”

“No, I don’t get into town often.” He’d been wearing a suit the last time she’d seen him. They’d been in court.

His eyes darkened. “I didn’t realize you were still in the area until I heard about your party the other night. I couldn’t believe it when they told me you’d never left. Thirty miles outside of Austin the entire time.”

“Texas is my home.”

He shook his head. “It was my sister’s home, too. Until you killed her.”

Her memory jumped to Sydney Dowd, Jeff’s girlfriend. She’d been in the front seat of her brother’s car the night of the accident. When the car had hit the tree, she’d been thrown clear. Her neck had broken instantly.

Sydney’s parents had sued her parents because Greer had been driving on a learner’s permit and was supposed to be accompanied by an adult driver. Jeff had been passed out drunk, the attorney had argued, so the Templetons had broken the law by allowing Greer to drive unmonitored.

She remembered Mr. and Mrs. Dowd coming to the hospital after the accident. They’d stared at her with such a stony silence she’d wept. She’d wanted to apologize or say words to comfort them, but her mother had been in the room

, and she had refused to let her speak. There’d been a heated exchange and the Dowds had left when her mother had called security. Later, Greer’s mother had warned her to stay clear of the Dowds. Don’t make any more trouble for us, Elizabeth.

She’d known Sydney had an older brother, Rick. She saw the resemblance and tried to imagine Sydney if she’d lived.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Dowd?”

Rick Dowd cocked an eyebrow. “What do you suggest, Ms. Templeton?”

The edge in his voice had her bristling. “I’ve no suggestions. But you clearly have words for me.”

He flexed his fingers. “Not sure what either of us could say to the other. You gutted my family. Hard to come back from an obstacle like that.”

Her breathing thinned as regret knotted in her belly. “I will always be sorry, Mr. Dowd.”

“I doubt you know the meaning of the word, Ms. Templeton.”

A rush of anger and shame rose up in her, coloring her face. “That’s not true. You’ve no idea how I felt.”

“Well, your feelings pale in comparison to mine and my parents’, who lost a child.”

A pained sigh escaped her lips. “I lost a brother. I know your pain.”

He jabbed a finger at her. “Don’t pretend to know how I feel. Don’t.”

This was a losing battle. “What do you want me to say, Mr. Dowd?”

“Like I said, not much.” His gaze roamed over her, the anger all but snapping from his eyes.

How could she ask him to forgive when she’d not really forgiven herself? More words wouldn’t take away his pain or her guilt. “I wish you the best, Mr. Dowd.”

As she turned to leave he hurried to block her path. In a voice loud enough for her alone to hear, he said, “You aren’t sorry, but you will be.”

A chill twisted along her spine. She met his gaze. “What does that mean?”

He shrugged and smiled. “Doesn’t mean a thing.”

They both knew it would be his word against hers.

She balled her fingers into fists. “Is that a threat?”

He smelled of sandalwood and leather. “It’s whatever you want it to be.”

“I heard a threat.”