Tangled With A Texan (Texas Cattleman’s Club: Houston Book 8) Read online

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” he asked as he led the way into a large open-plan living room.

  “Water would be great, thanks.”

  “Take a seat,” he said gruffly before heading through a doorway toward what was, presumably, the kitchen.

  Zoe sank into a large leather sofa. In a smaller room the piece of furniture would have dominated, but not here. She looked around, taking in the high raftered ceiling—must be a bitch to keep clean, she pondered—and the tall windows that led to a paved courtyard outside. Large round ceramic pots in a jumble of bright colors, some with mosaics, were filled with flowers, and beyond that Zoe caught a glimpse of the sparkle of late-afternoon sunlight on water. A pool or an ornamental pond? she wondered.

  “Here you are.”

  Cord Galicia stood before her holding a sweating tall glass of water in one hand. She reached up to take it.

  “Thank you.”

  The man moved with the stealth of a wild animal, she realized. There weren’t many who could sneak up on her like that.

  “You said you had questions,” he said as he settled onto the other end of the sofa.

  “Yes, I do. Your neighbor, Jesse Stevens—are you well acquainted?”

  She knew the men were best friends, but she was curious to see how Galicia reacted to being questioned. She kept her eyes focused on her host and didn’t miss the way his body stiffened.

  “What do you want with Jesse?”

  “Please, Mr. Galicia, just answer the question.”

  “He’s my neighbor, of course we’re acquainted,” Cord said begrudgingly. “But I don’t see what he has to do with some investigation in Houston.”

  “That’s my job,” Zoe said with a grim smile. “Tell me, what’s Mr. Stevens like as a man?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is he quick to anger? The type to follow up on a grudge?”

  “I don’t like where you’re heading with this. Jesse is a decent man and an upstanding member of our community. If you’re looking at him, you’re looking in the wrong direction.”

  Zoe decided to take a different tack. “Do you remember Vincent Hamm?”

  “Yeah, he grew up around here. We all did.”

  “Were he and Mr. Stevens particularly close?”

  Cord shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t say that. Jesse knew him, sure. But we all did. Is that who this is about? Hamm? Look, we were sorry to hear he’d passed, but it’s not like we’ll miss him. Seriously, we haven’t moved in the same circles for years. Like I said, if you’re after Jesse, you’re after the wrong person. He’s the most law-abiding and stand-up person I know.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I don’t immediately jump to believe you. That’s pretty much what everyone says when asked about the people they think they know.”

  Two

  “Think they know?” Cord didn’t bother to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Since I’ve known the man most of my life, I can safely say I know Jesse Stevens pretty damn well, Ms. Warren.”

  “Zoe, please.”

  Oh, so she was attempting to play nice now? He let his gaze drift over her. He wouldn’t have minded playing nice with her, if she’d been anything but a cop. She was exactly his type. Long and lean with sweet curves in just the right places. Even her short-cropped dark hair was sexy, and he bet it looked even sexier mussed up against a crisp white cotton-covered pillow. He shifted slightly in his seat as his body reacted in ways his mind was determined not to.

  “The fact remains, I know my friend, Zoe,” he said with emphasis. “And you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  She dragged in a deep breath, and he couldn’t help but notice how her fitted shirt strained against the buttons across her chest. Oh yes, sweet curves all right. But off-limits, as was any woman serving in the police force. Cord let his gaze drift to the photo frame sitting on the antique sideboard across the room. Britney. God. Seeing her graduation picture from the police academy every day was a reminder of everything he’d lost. Her death two years ago, while on her first shift of active duty, had been soul destroying, and it was Jesse who’d kept him sane through that awful, dark time.

  No, Jesse was not the kind of man to commit murder, and Cord would do whatever he could to ensure Detective Warren knew that. And, he reminded himself as he flicked his gaze back to the woman in front of him, if he ever embarked on a long-term relationship again, it wouldn’t be with a woman who wore a badge and a gun and hunted down bad guys for a living. No matter how much his libido told him otherwise.

  “Sometimes we’re not always honest with the people we’re closest to,” she said in an obvious attempt to placate him. “Do you know when would be a good time for me to catch Mr. Stevens at home? I called on him earlier and no one was in.”

  “He runs a working ranch, so I guess it’s safe to say there’s never a good time. We have to make the most of the daylight hours available to us,” Cord said, hedging, unwilling to give the woman more information than was absolutely necessary.

  “Well, I caught you at home, didn’t I? Mr. Galicia, are you being deliberately obstructive or is this just your charming way of treating all strangers?”

  “Obstructive?” Cord felt a trickle of irritation at her insinuation. He wasn’t being obstructive; he was being careful. They were two very different things.

  “That’s the usual terminology when someone deliberately withholds information.”

  He watched as she picked up her water glass and drained it. Her throat was long and slender, the muscles working delicately as she swallowed her drink. Damn if the sight of that pale column of skin didn’t give him a hard-on. She snapped the glass back onto the table in front of her and rose on those enticingly long legs, then reached into her back pocket for a business card. She handed it to him as he hastened to stand.

  “Call me if you suddenly remember how I can best reach Mr. Stevens,” she said with a slight curl of her lip. “I’ll be staying in Royal for a few days.”

  “Does the sheriff know you’re in town?”

  He could see she wanted to tell him that was none of his business, but instead she gave him a brusque nod.

  “Of course,” she said. “He’s assisting in my inquiries.”

  Cord nodded. That made sense. The sheriff and the Hamm family went way back. “Maybe he can tell you how to get ahold of Jesse, since he’s assisting you and all.”

  He couldn’t resist goading her just a little. It rankled that she’d come out here without any notice on some jumped-up idea that Jesse was involved in Vincent Hamm’s murder. The very thought was ridiculous. Jesse was the kind of guy to always bend over backward to help others, and Cord knew he’d gone the extra mile with Hamm on several occasions. And then the one time Jesse had to ask Hamm for a favor...

  A frisson of warning prickled at the back of his mind. Was that what this was about? Had this woman unearthed something about Jesse asking Hamm a favor? A favor Hamm had refused to act on. Was that her angle? That Jesse had somehow been mad enough to exact revenge?

  “I’m sure he will. Next time I talk to him, I’ll be certain to get the lowdown on you, too.”

  “Me? Hey, you want to know about me, feel free to ask me anything.” Cord spread his arms wide and quirked one corner of his lips up in a smile. “I’m an open book.”

  She sniffed. “Thank you for the water. No doubt I’ll be speaking to you again.”

  The thought of seeing her again had its merits, but he doubted she meant what he was thinking.

  “I’ll look forward to it,” he replied, imbuing into that handful of words enough innuendo to make Ms. Warren stiffen and give him a hard look.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  He led the way to the front door and watched her as she stepped onto the porch. There was a determined set to her shoulders, and he knew she wouldn’
t be deterred by him. One way or another she’d track Jesse down, and Cord didn’t want it to be today. Jesse had enough on his plate with his sister’s emergency surgery today. It had started out as routine to remove an inflamed appendix, but the dang thing had already ruptured, spilling infection through Janet’s body. While she was receiving the best care possible, Jesse was beside himself with worry. Last thing Jesse needed was this detective visiting him in the hospital.

  Maybe Cord could appeal to her good will, he thought. Just as the woman reached her grime-covered car, he called out.

  “Jesse is at the hospital—that’s why he’s not at home right now. His sister had an operation today. There were complications. He’s been there all day. A decent person would leave him be.”

  “Mr. Galicia, are you suggesting I’m not a decent person?” She cocked one brow as she raised the question.

  “Well, that remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” he challenged. “Give him a couple of days at least.”

  “And what do you suggest I do in the meantime? Paint my nails?”

  He had to hand it to her. She didn’t back down, not one bit. He probably shouldn’t have told her about Jesse being at the hospital, but he’d hoped he could appeal to her sense of compassion. Surely she had one in there somewhere behind that blue-eyed deadpan stare of hers?

  “Maybe we could have a drink or a meal somewhere?”

  “Are you asking me on a date?”

  The incredulity on her face would have been funny if it hadn’t been so insulting.

  “Sure, why not?”

  For a second or two she looked totally at a loss for words. As a distraction tactic, asking her out clearly had merit, he thought with a quiet twinge of satisfaction. At least it appeared to have stopped her in her stride.

  “What about it?” he pressed. “Tonight, just a drink. You can ask me anything you want.”

  “I can ask you anything I want anytime I want. I have a badge, remember?”

  “What? Are you afraid of spending time with me?”

  She snorted. “I’m not afraid of anything, Mr. Galicia. Especially not you. Sure, fine. What time and where?”

  “Why don’t I pick you up? Where’re you staying?”

  She named the motel.

  “How about seven?” he asked, beginning to wonder what in hell he was letting himself in for.

  “Seven is good.”

  Then, without another word, she got into her car and swung it around the circular driveway and back toward the main road. Cord watched until she went out of sight, then slowly closed the door to his house. His grandmother would have said he’d gone totally loco. Even he didn’t understand fully what had prompted him to make the offer to Detective Warren, aside from the need to protect his best friend from her questioning. He flicked a look at his watch. Jesse said he’d be at the hospital until the nurses kicked him out. It would take the detective about forty minutes to get to town from here, then no doubt she’d want to fluff a bit like women did. She wouldn’t have time to go to the hospital and bother Jesse, but just in case, Cord dragged his cell phone from his back pocket and thumbed a text to his friend.

  How’s Janet doing?

  She’s holding her own. They’re talking about removing the breathing tube later tonight.

  Cord felt a pang for his friend. Janet was the only family he had left, and to say he was protective of his younger sibling was an understatement. This hiccup with what should have been a routine procedure today had surely devastated him.

  Good to hear. BTW, Houston detective in town asking questions about Hamm. I’m taking her out for a drink so she doesn’t bother you.

  Jesse’s reply was swift.

  LOL, taking one for the team? Such hardship. Is she pretty?

  Trust his friend to ask the hard questions.

  Yeah.

  But she’s a cop.

  Yeah.

  Do you know what you’re doing?

  Keeping her away from you, remember.

  There was a pause, and Cord began to wonder if that was an end to their conversation, but then his phone pinged again.

  Are you sure that’s all?

  You know my rules.

  Okay. Don’t do anything dumb.

  As if. Hey, give Janet my love.

  Will do. And let me know how your date goes.

  It’s not a date.

  She’s pretty. It’s a date.

  Cord rolled his eyes before texting his reply.

  She’s a cop. It’s not a date. End of story.

  He pocketed his phone and went to his room to get ready to head into town. But even as he changed into a good pair of jeans and a fitted shirt and splashed on a little cologne, he couldn’t help but wonder why he was going to so much effort for the woman. Was it because he was trying to keep her distracted and away from Jesse, or was there something more? He snagged his car keys in one hand and headed toward the garage. There was only one way to find out.

  Three

  Zoe paced the confines of her motel room, wondering why the hell she’d agreed to this—whatever this was—with Cord Galicia. The man exuded pheromones like body odor. Both were equally unwelcome in her book. Galicia had been far too cagey about Stevens, and her own experience had shown that people don’t generally hide something that doesn’t need to be hidden. And even though he had said she could ask him anything she wanted, she doubted that would extend to more information about his neighbor.

  She flicked a glance at the digital clock next to the bed. He’d be here any minute. As if she’d conjured him up merely by thinking about him, there was a firm knock at her door. She swung around and checked the peephole. Yup, just as sexy as the first time, she thought. She forced herself to take a deep, steadying breath before unlatching the chain and opening the door.

  Even with the distance of a couple of hours, he still packed the same punch. She’d never met a man before who had made her feel so darn feminine. She wanted to say she didn’t like it, but there was something about the way the blood in her veins fizzed when he was around that she had to admit wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

  “Good evening,” Galicia said, then bowed with a flourish. “Your chariot awaits.”

  “We’re not walking?” she asked, stepping through the door and carefully locking it behind her.

  “Nah, the place I’m taking you is on the other side of town.”

  “If you’d have said, I’d have met you there.”

  “What’s the matter, Detective? Don’t you trust me?”

  She snorted. “I can handle you.”

  He gave her a sharp look that made her draw in a hasty breath. It was clear his mind had gone straight below the waist. Come to think of it, so had hers. Instead of giving in to the sudden roar of heat that flamed from deep inside her, she narrowed her gaze at him.

  “Well, where’s this chariot?”

  He laughed, the sound a deep rumble that hit straight to her solar plexus. A delicious, lazy sound better suited to a bedroom than a parking lot beside a B-grade motel.

  “Over here.”

  He gestured toward a classic F-150, and as they drew nearer, he opened the passenger door for her. She eyed the antique surface of the truck. Clearly left to go to rack and ruin at some point, the vehicle had been restored, but the paintwork remained aged and patchy—almost as if the rust was a badge of honor.

  “Ranching not going so well?” she asked, casting an obvious eye over the multicolored hood.

  “Let’s just say I appreciate the patina of time. It’s been treated and clear coated. A testament to the age and longevity of the beast.”

  Zoe cast him a sideways glance. A somewhat romantic statement from a man who made his living from the land and the animals upon it. Eschewing further comment, she climbed up onto the front seat and waited while he closed her door a
nd stepped around to the driver’s side. The cab had seemed so spacious until he swung up beside her. Then his shoulders were suddenly too close to hers and the cologne he wore wove around her on subtle waves of body heat. She turned her head to the window, but it was no good. Her senses were powerfully attuned to him. She didn’t need to see him to know that his leather jacket was so soft and worn that it fitted his shoulders like a second skin, or that the crisp denim of his jeans pulled across his hips when he sat at the wheel.

  She also knew that no matter where she was, she’d never again smell that scent and not think of him. Of the raw masculinity he exuded in his simple stance, or the latent power in his hands, the teasing in his eyes, the sardonic curl of his lip. She gave herself a mental shake. What the hell was she doing, thinking of him in these terms? Right now, he was someone of interest in her inquiries. Someone to question, not drool over. She was not that weak nor that vulnerable.

  But it had been a while since she’d been intimate with anyone, and, she reminded herself bluntly, a woman had needs. Needs, it seemed, that were hell-bent on distracting her from her job. Well, she owed it to her victim to get to the bottom of who was behind his murder—and to bring them to justice.

  They hadn’t driven long before Galicia pulled up the truck outside a small hotel.

  “This is us,” he said, getting out of the truck and walking around to her side.

  To preempt him opening her door, she did it herself and dropped down onto the pavement. She’d keep her distance from him, get whatever information she needed and then she’d be on her way. She didn’t want to stay here in Royal any longer than necessary. It might be a thriving town, it might even be civilized, but it wasn’t her city. These weren’t her people. Especially not the tall, commanding figure walking beside her as they entered the hotel and headed toward the bar.

  If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a brief flare of approval in his eyes. Not that she cared. She wasn’t here to impress him. He gave her a brief nod and put a hand at the small of her back, guiding her toward the bar. As they entered, he gestured to one side of the room.