Texas heat, p.1
Texas Heat, page 1
Texas Heat
Lone Star Intrigue
Book One
Debra White Smith
Contents
Chapter One
I’m sorry to tell you this, Charli, but I’m here…
Chapter Two
Is this the part where you put the handcuffs on…
Chapter Three
Charli opened her gritty eyes and glanced around the Spartan…
Chapter Four
When Jack opened the police car’s front door for Charli,…
Chapter Five
Mom, are you sure you don’t want me to help…
Chapter Six
Jack held the cell phone to his ear and gazed…
Chapter Seven
Jack was almost certain he’d seen all kinds of memories…
Chapter Eight
She closed the swinging door behind them, paced past the…
Chapter Nine
Charli jolted awake. Some foreign noise had assaulted her sleep…
Chapter Ten
Sigmund Harlings remembered. After badgering his mind for over a…
Chapter Eleven
Sigmund circled Charli’s house, searching for the easiest way to…
Chapter Twelve
Holding a tall glass of iced tea, Jack stepped onto…
Chapter Thirteen
Sigmund pulled the Cutlass onto Charli’s road and steered the…
Chapter Fourteen
Even though all systems were charged, Jack moved more slowly…
Chapter Fifteen
Jack placed the last throw pillow on the couch and…
Chapter Sixteen
Charli lead Bonnie to Pat Jonas’s front door. The simple…
Chapter Seventeen
What’s up?” Payton’s rich voice jarred Jack in the middle…
Chapter Eighteen
Charli extracted three hundred dollars from the bank envelope, dropped…
Chapter Nineteen
Jack stepped into the law office and had barely glanced…
Chapter Twenty
The next evening, Charli turned beside a mailbox with “Mansfield”…
Chapter Twenty-One
With Charli driving away, Jack meandered back to the pasture…
Chapter Twenty-Two
By the time the horse was stabled, the last rabbit…
Author’s Note
About the Author
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
I’m sorry to tell you this, Charli, but I’m here to arrest you.” Jack gazed down at his old flame as the sweet Texas twilight ushered in a chorus of singing crickets. A whippoorwill’s whistle blended in to lend a deceptive peace to the whole countryside. The summer breeze flitted across the porch and tangled with the wind chime behind Jack while Charli gazed up at him in blank horror.
“Wh-what?” she stammered.
Jack’s gut knotted worse than he’d imagined. His heart pounded harder. And his mind replayed memories he hadn’t counted on. Charli had been voted homecoming queen twelve years ago at Jacksonville College. Even though Jack was five years older and a college dropout, he’d been her escort. She’d never looked more beautiful. Unless you counted now. Even in a pair of blue jean cutoffs with her hair in a ponytail and those big brown eyes like beacons of terror, Charli was still the best looking woman Jack had seen…since the last time he saw her in the Brookshire’s grocery store nearly a week ago.
He remembered the day: Saturday. The time: 6:03 P.M. And the occasion: he’d been buying hamburger for a cookout. For one.
He’d “conveniently” stood in the line behind Charli. And this time, she’d responded to his light conversation with a warm smile and easy chitchat. He’d even gotten a giggle out of Bonnie, who was usually as cautious as her mom could be. Jack had lived dangerously and asked them to join him for the cookout. She’d shocked him by agreeing and had insisted upon bringing drinks. The evening had been simple—just two “old friends” enjoying the burgers and sunset while Bonnie made friends with Jack’s blue heeler, Sam. Jack had taken great pains not to pressure Charli and hadn’t even walked her to the car when her two-hour visit ended. Even though she gave him no indicator that she was romantically interested, Jack virtually floated back into his log cabin.
Since the day she drove back into town five years ago, he’d been moving toward reconciling with Charli. He’d started by opening a checking account where she worked at the Bullard Savings and Loan. Then, he advanced to “accidentally” bumping into her all over town. That first year back she’d been emotionally frigid, and Jack could barely get her to look at him, but he’d never wavered in his goal.
And just when I’m seeing some results, I get to arrest her, he groused. Even now, Jack struggled with how a woman of such integrity and charm had fallen to embezzlement. But that wasn’t for him to determine.
“There’s a warrant for your arrest,” he explained. The faint smell of fresh-baked cookies mingled with his unexpected urge to grab Charli and secretly sweep her away to some remote place in Mexico where she’d never be found.
This wasn’t easy. Not by a long shot.
“For my arrest?” Charli clutched at the neck of her T-shirt. “Are you sure it’s me?” she squeaked. “There must be a mistake of some sort, Jack.”
“No, it’s for you,” he explained. Jack rested his hand on his hip, looked down, shook his head. “I’m sorry, Charli. I’ve got to take you in.”
“Mommy?” a small voice called from another room before a little girl appeared on the edge of the den. She held a sugar cookie that testified to the aroma wafting over Jack. Like her mom, she wore shorts and a loose T-shirt. Cookie dough dotted her hair. Flour streaked her cheek. If that wasn’t enough to shatter a heart as hard as marble, the child’s long dark hair and rosy cheeks were too much like her mother’s for Jack’s comfort. He didn’t know if he’d ever smell sugar cookies again without getting sick.
“Can you tell me what for?” Charli rasped, her eyes pooling with liquid dread.
“Embezzlement,” Jack supplied, and his gaze slid back to the child.
“Mommy!” Bonnie trotted forward and wrapped herself around her mother’s leg.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Charli choked out and bent to pick up her daughter. While Bonnie twined her arms and legs around Charli like a scared monkey, Charli buried her face in her daughter’s mass of curly hair.
The silence left Jack feeling like the criminal who needed to be arrested. He’d be far more comfortable if his former love at least had the decency to look guilty or go into a rage or even glare at him.
But she didn’t. Charli lifted her watery gaze back to him and peered a hole right into his soul.
“I have no idea…” she said, her lips quivering.
Jack looked down. The evidence said she did have an idea. And a big one at that.
“You’ve got to believe me, Jack!” Charli insisted, her mellow Texas accent adding credibility to her claim. “You can’t just take me away like this! You can’t! I didn’t do anything! And what about—what about Bonnie?”
“Mommy! Don’t go!” the child wailed. “Don’t let him take you!”
So much for gaining ground with Bonnie, he thought. Jack pressed his fingertips against his eyes, but no amount of pressure erased the image of mother and daughter from his mind.
Of all the bizarre situations his position had flung him into, this was the worst. He hadn’t believed Charli would embezzle a dime until he’d seen the bank records. And once he was convinced, Jack had been crushed. He also knew he couldn’t send one of his men to the task. He’d rather be the one—even if the job did rip him to pieces. In some crazy way, he thought his presence would ease her and maybe, just maybe, he could somehow protect her, even from the consequences of her own actions.
Of course, if the Tyler FBI realized he and Charli had a history, they wouldn’t have let Jack arrest her, due to conflict of interest. But even in a small town, people forgave old relationships.
“I’ve got to do my job,” he managed to say. “Is there someone you can call to come get…” He pointed to the child who should have been his. He didn’t even say her name. He couldn’t. Charli had always said her first daughter would be named Bonnie. Jack had naively assumed her last name would be Mansfield.
“You know my mom passed away last year,” she said and coughed over a sob.
“I know,” Jack said. He’d sent a massive wreath to the funeral and attended both the chapel and graveside services. That’s when Charli and he had moved from a friendly hello to brief conversation. Even though Jack hadn’t sent the wreath and attended the funeral to score any points, he’d taken the points and been glad to get them.
Of course, Charli didn’t mention her alcoholic dad as any potential help. She didn’t have to. Jack knew he’d divorced her mother and the family when Charli was ten—just like Vince Friedmont had divorced Charli before she ever gave birth to their child.
“My half sister lives in San Antonio,” she groaned. “And only God knows where Vince is.”
Jack had been on the verge of proposing eleven years ago when that no-count Friedmont had charmed Charli into the zombie zone. Tall and blond and lean, Vince had driven a fast sports car and worked even faster on Charli. She’d ignored Jack’s warnings about Vince’s character, accused him of being blinded by jealousy, and went starry-eyed over the jerk. Jack balled his fist. Even now, he wanted to punch the loser
Then he reminded himself that he was the one arresting Charli, dragging her from the clutches of her child. And he wondered who was worse—Vince for leaving her or himself for arresting her.
Except I’m just doing my job, he reminded himself. And the evidence indicates—
“Is it something to do with the bank?” Charli’s forehead wrinkled, and she peered up at Jack as if he were her rescuer, not the arresting officer.
“Yeah.” He nodded.
“H-how much?”
“Over a hundred thousand,” Jack said.
Moaning, Charli stumbled away from the door and collapsed on the couch. She cradled her child and rocked back and forth.
“Oh, God help me,” she whimpered. “I knew I should have quit two years ago. Something told me.”
As Bonnie’s wailing mixed with her mother’s, Jack’s belief in the evidence wavered. He’d done his share of textbook work on the psychology of criminals and had enough firsthand experience to know that most people the department arrested vowed they were innocent, sometimes in the face of a line of witnesses ten miles long. But Charli’s shattered expression and clueless eyes defied any knowledge of the crime.
Jack stepped into the house, nudged the door shut. His leather holster creaked with the movement, and he wished he was wearing anything but this uniform.
Something crunched under his foot. He looked down. The sugar cookie had crumbled beneath the toe of his boot. Jack rubbed his face again. This was not the stuff that dreams were made of. Not at all.
More like nightmares, he thought.
He finished closing the door. The knob clicked. And Jack remembered many nights stepping into this homey living room, waiting on Charli to come out for their date. The small farmhouse had been her mom’s…and her grandparents’. Although the place had been remodeled more than once, the stone fireplace had served three generations and always made him feel welcome.
Except now.
Either she’s a good actress, or she really is innocent, he thought, and he’d never wanted anyone to be innocent more than now.
The next ten minutes jumbled into a blur for Charli. Somehow, she’d managed to call her pastor’s wife, Pat Jonas, but she held no memory of dialing the number even with Pat standing in her living room trying to pry Bonnie out of her arms. No one would guess the middle-aged, ruddy woman in overalls was a pastor’s wife…or that Bonnie could resist Pat’s strong hold as long as she had.
“Mommy! Mommy! Don’t go, Mommy!” Bonnie screamed and dug her fingernails into Charli’s back.
She winced and tried to mumble something soothing. All that came out was a muffled cough and a whimper.
“Don’t let that mean man take you!” Bonnie bellowed.
Charli felt Jack hovering by the door like some sort of a police chief dinosaur who grew larger with every minute. She pulled at Bonnie’s frame, but the child only tightened her hold.
“I’ll be back tomorrow, honey,” Charli explained and looked to Jack for some assurance.
“There’s a bondsman close,” he said and nodded.
“Mark and I will take a church offering and take care of the bond,” Pat assured. “Lord knows we’ve had our share of experience.” Their son had been on the church prayer list since Charli could remember. In and out of jail, he’d finally landed in prison for extended correction.
“You’ve got to believe me, Pat,” she plead as Pat won the tug-of-war and Bonnie released her mother. Charli stumbled to regain her balance while the child wilted against Pat and inconsolably sobbed through the surrender.
“I’m not guilty,” Charli continued and pressed the heels of her hands against her temples. “I don’t know what’s happened. There must have been some—some mistake. I’m sure it will all be straightened out t-tomorrow and the charges will be dropped. I just can’t imagine what’s happened!”
“Don’t worry, Charli,” Pat assured, her gray eyes certain. “Neither Mark nor I believe you took one cent.” She shot Jack a glare that would shrivel a seven-foot cactus.
“Look,” Jack said, holding up his hand, “I’m just doing my job.”
Pat’s defiant gaze faltered. She sighed. “I know. It’s just that Charli’s like—like the daughter we never had and the best volunteer in our church.”
Jack held Charli’s gaze. His dark eyes plead for her forgiveness while his Chief of Police badge apologized for nothing. Once her mom died, Charli and Jack had begun developing a distant friendship. As small as Bullard was, they’d seen each other often and had fallen into light conversation more often than not. When he asked her to his place last Saturday, Charli had spontaneously agreed. She’d been a bit lonely and dreaded going back to her empty house.
But once she was on his ranch, Charli wondered if she’d made the wisest choice. Even though Jack had kept the conversation impersonal and friendly, his guarded eyes said more than he spoke. While she didn’t want to give him false hope, in the end she’d been glad she went. Those two hours had awakened her to the possibility that their “chance meetings” around town weren’t always accidental.
She’d also begun to wonder if she could perhaps love again. She still hadn’t answered that question and certainly wasn’t going to deliberate over it with Jack carting her off to jail.
Bonnie’s sniffling seized her attention. Charli reached to stroke her daughter’s hair, but stopped. The best thing was to make a clean break.
“I don’t guess I’ll need my purse, huh?” she asked and couldn’t bring herself to look higher than Jack’s chin this time.
“No,” he said and opened the door. “We’d just have to put it in a safe.”
Jack’s features were as strong and rugged as his dark eyes were haunted and lonely. He’d never married. Charli’s mother made sure she knew that piece of information the day she moved back home. Now Charli wondered if his remaining single had anything to with her breaking his heart.
Head drooping, Charli walked past Jack and through the door. Before stepping into the purple twilight, she glanced back at Pat. “I just started the cookies for the bake sale tomorrow,” she explained. “Would you please wrap up the ones I’ve already finished? It doesn’t look like I’ll be following through on that deal.”
“Don’t worry about it, Charli.” Pat shook her head. “You’re always taking care of everybody else. This time, you need to just let it go. It’s your turn for some support. Understand?”
“Thanks.” Charli stepped into the night just as she’d done dozens of times when she and Jack were dating. Except this time, they weren’t dating. This time, Jack Mansfield was arresting Charli for a crime she didn’t commit.
CHAPTER TWO
Is this the part where you put the handcuffs on me?” Charli paused by the police car.
Jack reached for the back passenger door handle but then moved to the front. Still standing beside the car, he turned to Charli as he opened her door. The car’s interior light cast a Picasso of angles and shadows on his features. “No handcuffs,” he said with a smile that looked more like a grimace. Charli once again detected a hint of misgivings…along with silent despair. “Go ahead and sit in front.” He waved toward the passenger seat. “Somehow, I don’t think you’ll try to break and run.”
“Let’s hope not,” Charli mumbled as she slid into the vehicle, into the smell of warm coffee. The thump of Jack’s closing the door finalized the inevitable.
When Jack crawled into the driver’s seat and closed his door, Charli cut him a quick glance. Her initial dismay gave way to a slow burn in her brain. Even though her logical side insisted that Jack wasn’t to blame. Charli’s neck and face heated with the injustice of his dragging her from her child.
He cranked the vehicle, put it into reverse, and backed out of the driveway.
She snapped her seat belt with a vengeance, crossed her arms, and glared out the window. The yard lights illuminated the oil-topped road, shadowed by nine o’clock twilight. Charli strained to catch a final glance of her home as Bonnie appeared at the living room window. She pawed at the pane while tears streamed down her face. As quickly as Bonnie had appeared, Pat pulled her away and yanked the drapes shut.
