The Seventh Victim (Texas Rangers 1)

Her throat tightened. “I know.”

Vera’s attention was finely honed. “That’s got to make you uncomfortable.”

“It makes me very sad.”

Vera glanced around the room. “I would think death scenes wouldn’t interest you.”

She swirled her wineglass, staring at the golden depths. “There are gaps I don’t remember. I keep thinking I will remember with each photograph.”

Vera released a breath she’d been holding. “Remarkable. Fascinating.”

She didn’t feel remarkable or fascinating, only vulnerable and afraid and sorry she’d been so candid.

Vera laid a hand on Lara’s chilled hand. “I’d like to talk to you more about this.”

“Perhaps another time.”

Before Vera formed a new question, Cassidy came up beside her and hooked her arm around Lara. “Vera, do you not love Lara?”

The slim woman’s smile was calculating. “She’s charming. And her work is as excellent as she is fascinating.”

“Violent death is not easy.” Cassidy, sensing Lara’s stress, said, “Ms. Jones, let’s get a fresh glass of wine and have another pass around the gallery. There is a picture that I must show you.”

Lara eased a sigh from her lungs as the two walked away. In the moments she’d been talking to Ms. Jones the gallery had filled with several dozen people enjoying the wine and food as much as the art. She wished she could just get outside for a moment and get fresh air.

“You look like you could use this.”

The sound, a familiar and friendly voice, made her smile. Jonathan Matthews grinned down at her as she exchanged her warm wine for a cool, fresh glass. “My hero.”

“I do try.” His smile deepened the lines around his eyes. As much as she craved a cool liquid sliding down her throat, she didn’t take a drink.

“So how is the show going?” Jonathan said.

“Well. Really well, I think. Everyone is definitely talking about the photographs.”

“I knew you’d be a success.”

“Did you? I could use an extra compliment or two right now.”

“You? Oh come on. You are the bravest person I know.”

She smiled. “Feet of clay, my friend. Feet of clay. But you are the only person I’d dare admit that to.”

His gaze softened. “I’m glad you feel like you can talk to me. I have your back.”

“I know. And thanks.”

Cassidy cut through the crowd, her smile bright and eager. She nudged Lara gently with her elbow. “You are a hit, my girl. I’ve heard whispers of sales.”

Heat rose in Lara’s face. “I wasn’t sure how well my work would be taken.”

“Taken tremendously well.”

Cassidy glanced at Jonathan. “Jonathan, I don’t think I’ve seen you in several years.”

Jonathan smiled. “I’ve been busy. You’ve been busy.”

“That’s nice of you to support her.” A chill iced the words. Cassidy and Jonathan had never been friends, for reasons Lara could not explain.

Jonathan winked at Lara. “She’s the best.”

“And now I must steal her away from you,” Cassidy said.

Lara tossed a fleeting glance to Jonathan, who smiled back, and allowed Cassidy to introduce her to more people.

Lara let their conversation trickle over her head as she scanned the room, not so much looking at the crowds but looking for James Beck. For reasons she couldn’t explain she wanted to talk to him again. Tell him what she’d told Vera. When she didn’t spot his huge frame standing above the crowds, disappointment nagged her. Odd. Yesterday she couldn’t wait to get rid of the guy.

Beck’s warnings and his concerns replayed in her head. Anxiety churned in her belly before she made a conscious effort to still the chaos. Good or bad, Vera would write up her interview with Lara and the residents of Austin would know about her past.

Raines had intentionally arrived late to the gallery opening because he’d wanted to blend into the crowd and see Lara in action without being noticed. As he glanced toward the gallery’s large picture window, he spotted the petite blonde staring into the gallery’s display window. He recognized the girl instantly from the diner. Danni.

Most would have hustled right past the kid, but he couldn’t. Her fear and anxiety blinked bright like the gallery’s neon sign. “You heading inside?”

Shocked that someone had spoken to her, she hesitated. “I know you from the diner. Mr. Pancakes.”

“My friends call me Mike Raines, but for you, kid, I’d answer to Mr. Pancakes.”

A smile teased tense lips. “Raines suits you better.”

“And you’re Danni, right?”

“Good memory.”

“I do try.” He glanced through the window at the nicely dressed people milling around the framed photographs.

“So are you going inside?”

“I’m considering it.” Her black shirt and jeans made her blond hair and pale skin look almost translucent.

“What’s to consider? It looks like a great party.”

Her chin lifted a fraction, as she did her best to look disinterested when he would have guessed she was actually the opposite. “It looks a little stuffy.”

For whatever reason he liked the girl. She’d been friendly to him from the moment she’d poured him fresh coffee. She was in her late teens at most, and her attempt to look so self-assured made him wonder what had toughened her veneer.

“I’m about to head inside. Why don’t you come with me?”

She arched a brow. “Are you hitting on me?”

His laugh was genuine and clear. “You’re young enough to be my kid.”

She folded slim arms over her chest, her eyebrow arched. “And your point is?”

He shook his head, genuinely amused. “Kid,” he said, adding emphasis to the word, “I want to look at some art and have

a beer. Underage kids are not on the menu.”

“I’m not underage.”

“If you’re not now, you were last week.”

His laughter eased her anxiety and he stayed clear of her personal space, knowing a violation would fortify her defenses.

She pushed back her hair with an agitated hand. Her fingernails were painted black. “So why do you want to see this exhibit? No offense, but you don’t look like the artsy type.”

“I’m not. But I know the artist, and I’m just being supportive.”

“You know Lara Church?”

His slid his hands into his pockets. “From the days we both lived in Seattle. And you?”

“I’m one of her students.”

“I’ll bet she’s a good teacher.”

“Yeah. Takes no crap, but can make the most complicated technique sound easy.”

“That’s a gift.”

“I guess.”

He held out his hand. “Danni, you got a last name?”

She glanced down at his hand and then took it. “Danni Rome.”

His grip was firm, but he released her hand quickly. She was looking for an excuse to bolt, and he didn’t want to be the one to give it to her. “So are you coming inside, Ms. Danni Rome? Or are you gonna stand out here and dream and wish?”

She straightened. “Dreaming and wishing are for saps.”

“I couldn’t agree more, and you don’t strike me as a sap. So what do you say? You want to come inside with me?”

“Okay, Mike Raines, let’s go inside.”

“That a girl.” He opened the door for her and waited until she passed before he followed. “Let’s hit the bar. Easier to break the ice with a drink in hand.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He followed behind her and, though tempted to place his hand in the small of her back and guide her, he did not. At the bar, he glanced down at her. “What would you like, Ms. Danni Rome?”

“Beer.”

The bartender raised a brow.

Mike grinned. “She meant to say soda. I get the beer.”

The bartender nodded. “Right away.”

Color rose in her face, but she didn’t speak. “You still act like a cop.”

Mike leaned toward Danni. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”