Lone Star Threat
Автор
Barb Han
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Chapter One
The sun blasted on what had turned into a pavement melting summer day in Austin. Texas was legendary for its August heat. This day was going to be one for the books. Despite the triple-digit temperatures, navigating Congress Avenue still felt like running through a horde. Summer Grayson didn’t have time to care about the sweat literally pouring down the sides of her face and dripping onto her shirt. She didn’t have time to register how dry her mouth already was or how great a drink of water would feel right then. All she could care about was breaking free from the men who were right behind her, gaining ground with every step as she darted through throngs of people.
There were two men behind her. Their eyes trained on her. She was their target. No matter how much she desperately wanted to escape, to live, those men had other plans. Were these the same men who’d made her sister disappear?
Summer should never have pretended to be her identical twin, Autumn. Rolling the dice and claiming to be Autumn was backfiring big-time. On a base level, she’d needed to know if there was any possibility her sister was still alive even though she knew in her heart it wasn’t likely. Criminal investigations took months, sometimes years. In too many cases, the criminal was never found. After two months of her own investigation, she’d been no closer to finding answers than when she’d first started.
So, yeah, she’d decided to cut corners and step into her sister’s shoes. Getting desperate for answers had caused Summer to make mistakes that put these jerks on her tail. Risking a glance behind her added another miscalculation to the growing list. It slowed her down enough for one of the men to gain more ground.
The closest guy was the shorter of the two. He had light blond hair, a tan and a swimmer’s build. His long torso and shorter legs were clad head to toe in black. He was also the faster runner of the pair. He was quick and lean, his face set in a permanent scowl. Everything about him said he was scrappy. The other jerk was at least six inches taller and thick. Thick neck. Thick arms. Thick hands.
Summer picked up the pace and risked another glance behind her, tamping down the panic that had adrenaline bursts fueling her legs. Scrappy was gaining on her and his friend, Thick Guy, wasn’t far behind. No matter how hard she pushed her legs she wouldn’t be fast enough to get away from Scrappy. Repeating a protection prayer that she’d learned as a young child, she pushed harder against burning thighs. It would take a miracle to get away.
No such marvel came. He caught hold of her. His grasp nearly crushed her bones. Icy fingers gripped her spine at the thought she would never know what had happened to her sister. As his nails dug into her skin, fear slapped her into realizing she might just end up in the same position. Gone.
A little voice in the back of her head picked that time to remind her how strong she really was. Despite being born prematurely and a minute later than her stronger, more athletic sister, Summer had enough fight in her to keep going despite the odds. Determination reminded her she’d survived then and would now, dammit.
Pushing harder, her thighs burned and her lungs clawed for air. She kept her pace, doing her level best to jerk her arm free. Giving in to pain could land her in a grave beside her twin sister, and she was certain that Autumn was dead. That was the only explanation for her sister’s sudden disappearance. Granted, her sister had distanced herself from everything and everyone in the small town where they’d grown up years ago. She’d moved away from the Austin suburb and never looked back. Until recently.
Shutting out the past had been Autumn’s way of surviving it—a past she’d refused to talk about even with her twin. Summer understood her sister’s need for silence on a basic level, except for the part about closing off their relationship. The bond between twins was supposed to be ironclad. But Autumn was a grown woman capable of making her own decisions and Summer had no choice but to respect them.
Even so, no matter how rough it got for Autumn or how much time had passed in between communication, she’d always returned a 9-1-1 text from Summer.
“How are you still alive?” Scrappy’s voice came out in a growl as he tightened the vise around her upper arm.
Those words nearly gutted Summer. Her sister had been secretive for the past couple years and had only touched base a few precious times. There wasn’t a scenario where Autumn was alive that included her going dark. Summer’s gut instincts said her sister was gone but if there was a shred of hope that Autumn was out there, alive, there was no end to the lengths that Summer would go to find her. Hell would have to freeze over before she stopped looking.
And if her sister was dead, the same went for finding justice.
This jerk wasn’t going to stop her from finding the truth no matter how tight his grip became. More of that Grayson resolve that had kept Summer alive through more situations than she could count kicked into high gear.
“Last time I checked hell hadn’t frozen over.” Summer jerked her arm as Scrappy caught her by the other elbow. She had about two seconds to react before he dug his bony fingers into her arms. All that came to mind was what she’d learned in second grade and it basically only applied to a fire, but it was all she had. Stop. Drop. And roll.
So that’s exactly what she did. On her way down, it dawned on her that smacking the concrete at a dead run was going to hurt. There was no choice but to push through the pain. Give up now and thick hands would close around her this time. She’d be hauled backward, landing hard on her backside and at the mercy of these two jerks.
This way, she could trip them and create a scene.
Stabs of pain shot through her calves as she tripped over her own feet and prepared to hit concrete. At least this way she could control the fall. That was the little white lie she told herself. She’d gotten good at letting herself believe the little lies that her sister had told her. Ones like, I’m fine. And, All I need is a little more time to clear up some bad karma in Austin.
Summer should have forced her sister to talk. She should have cornered Autumn and not let her walk away until she came clean about everything that was and had been going on in her life. When her sister had emailed to say that she’d found a wonderful man and that they’d gotten married, Summer shouldn’t have left it at that. She shouldn’t have taken Autumn at her word that all of life was suddenly smooth. Smooth and Autumn didn’t belong in the same sentence. Eventually her past would catch up with her.
Her sister had gushed about her new husband, saying how strong he was and how protected she felt. Looking back, Summer should’ve asked the question, Protected from what?
She could blame the fact that she’d been working two jobs to make ends meet. She could blame the fact that she was tired and not doing a heck of a great job managing her own life. She could blame her boss for keeping her late most nights. But the truth was that Autumn had always been a handful.
Until a year and a half ago when she’d announced the fact that she’d met the one. Learning that her sister had gotten married on a whim hadn’t been the shock it should’ve been. Finding out she’d married into one of, if not the wealthiest cattle ranching families, had. Then again, Autumn had always managed to land on her feet.
Suspicion was second nature to Summer, who’d grown up watching over her shoulder for danger. And yet, her sister had sounded genuinely happy in her emails. That was something rare for a Grayson. And Summer had selfishly wanted a break from looking out for her sister. Autumn had a knack for placing herself straight-up in the middle of trouble. And trouble had a way of finding her. Like the time in high school when she’d made a pact with a star athlete on the soccer team to cheat off each other on a test. Adam Winston got caught and decided not to go down alone. He showed the principal his text exchange with Autumn. The funny thing was that Autumn had studied and could pass the test on her own merit. She’d played dumb because she thought he’d be more attracted to her.
As her shoulder hit the pavement, Summer unleashed a scream. She made the loudest noise that could come out of her mouth. The daytime crowd shuffled to get out of her way, like a sea parting. Summer realized the fall was going to be more than she expected, measured by the sheer number of gasps around her.
She did, however, elicit enough attention to make Scrappy think twice. In fact, his gnarly grip on her elbow released and he disappeared into the gathering crowd.
Summer’s head smacked the ground harder than she’d anticipated. For a split second, she heard ringing in her ears. She could hop back up, but then what? The men would chase her again. This time, she might not be so lucky.
An authoritative female voice parted the crowd and a woman in uniform came into Summer’s blurry vision.
“Ma’am, are you okay?” a female officer asked as she kneeled down.
“My name is Autumn Grayson and I need to confess to a crime.”
The officer blinked shocked eyes at Summer. Those words seemed to grab her by the throat. “What was the offense, ma’am?”
The only thing that came to mind was the fire that had devastated a popular camping ground on the outskirts of Austin. It had been all over the news.
“Arson,” she said.
“YOU’RE NOT GOING to believe who just confessed to arson.” Dawson O’Connor’s brother, Sheriff Colton O’Connor, had been one hundred percent correct. Dawson couldn’t believe that Autumn Grayson would confess to a crime there was no way she could’ve committed. Because he couldn’t believe that his ex-wife could be capable of breaking the law. Not to mention the fact that she was scared to death of fire and would go nowhere near a campsite.
She’d been a city girl through and through. But then, he was still trying to believe that she’d served him divorce papers out of what felt like nowhere last year.
As far as he’d known, their marriage could have been saved. He wasn’t the giving-up-when-times-got-tough kind. So, he’d been all kinds of surprised when he found out she hadn’t taken their vows as seriously as he had. The note she’d left said she’d made a mistake, not to look for her, and he should forget he’d ever met her.
How was he supposed to do that? He’d been fool enough to spend time with her, marry her. And then he was supposed to...what? Forget any of that had ever happened? Far be it from him to dwell on unhappiness. Heaven knew he’d seen the effects of not being able to let go of a painful past firsthand in his own family. He had a wonderful mother who’d never really recovered from the night her firstborn child had been kidnapped in her own crib decades ago.
Dawson had had a sideline view to real tragedy. His mother had picked herself up and moved on best she could, always reminding her six O’Connor sons about the sister they never had the privilege to know.
Granted, getting a divorce was nowhere near the tragedy of losing a child and, worse yet, never knowing what had truly happened or if the child was alive. He chided himself for still hanging on to the pain of mistakenly falling for the wrong person. That was more a bad decision than a tragedy.
What was worse? He couldn’t believe that he was sitting in the parking lot of the Travis County Jail with a handful of jewelry pieces in a box that his wife—correction ex-wife—had told him were family heirlooms. He’d had the sense from her that she hadn’t grown up with much when it came to money or family. But then the subject of family had been off-limits. It should’ve been his first sign something was wrong.
He also shouldn’t care about returning the pieces to her.
As a matter of principle, he didn’t feel right holding on to them. Since she’d cut off all contact last year, he hadn’t had an opportunity to hand them over. Call it cowboy code but he didn’t like the thought of keeping someone else’s belongings.
Engine idling. Hand on the gearshift. Foot on the brake. Time to make a decision. Drive away or go inside?
Dawson muttered a curse under his breath and shut off the engine. He made the trek into the jail and walked directly toward the officer at the counter.
“I’m here to see my wi—” He stopped himself right there. “Someone in your holding cell. Her name is Autumn Grayson.” Since inmates in a holding tank weren’t allowed visitors, Dawson pulled out his badge. Professional courtesy might get him through the steel doors. “My name is Marshal Dawson O’Connor.”
The jailor perked up, his eyes widening for a split second. He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“The pleasure is all mine.” He gave a small smile. “Is there any chance I can have a short visit with Ms. Grayson.”
“Yes, sir.” The cop examined the US Marshals badge on the counter in front of him as Dawson pulled a coin from his pocket. It was a custom that started long ago to give out a department-stamped coin when visiting a cooperating agency.
“Are you picking her up? The crime she confessed to committing has already been solved.”
“We’ll see.” He doubted she’d go with him voluntarily.
The jailor introduced himself and took the offering with a broad smile. The tall, thin man who wore a white Stetson nodded his approval. “I appreciate this.” He tossed the coin in the air, caught it and then said, “You want to follow me?”
It was more statement than question and didn’t require an answer. Dawson followed. He was led into a small room with a table, two chairs opposite each other and a pair of doors. There was one behind him and one in front of him.
“If you’ll take a seat, sir, I’ll bring Ms. Grayson.” With a nod, the officer left the room.
Sitting in the interview room, it dawned on Dawson just how much trouble Autumn might be in. She had, after all, confessed to arson. The who, how and why remained to be seen. He would ask routine questions and try to determine why she would volunteer to be charged for a crime she didn’t commit.
There had to be more to the story, and he intended to get to the bottom of it. His mind snapped to self-defense. She was a beautiful woman who might’ve gotten involved in a bad situation. It happened.
Nothing could prepare him for the shot he took to the heart at seeing her again. She had changed a lot in the past year. Her shiny wheat-colored hair fell well past her shoulders in waves. Even with her eyes cast down to the white tiled flooring, he could almost see their violet hue. Her lips seemed fuller, pinker. Maybe it was the fact she had on no makeup and her hair looked natural, but this didn’t seem like Autumn at all.
Maybe too much time had passed, and he wasn’t remembering her very well. They’d had a whirlwind courtship before an even faster wedding.
She’d gained a few curves that made her even sexier. Hell, he didn’t need to be thinking about those right now. He took in other differences, too. She no longer had bangs or wore designer clothing from head to toe.
Of course, those were cosmetic changes. He knew firsthand how a few little changes could make a person look completely different. He’d hidden enough witnesses in his day to know the value of a hat, scarf and pair of sunglasses.
Still, it struck him as odd that she wouldn’t want to make eye contact with him. She had to know who was waiting in the room to talk to her. She would’ve been given the name of her visitor and even if she hadn’t, that would give her even more reason to want to find out who would be sitting in the chair across the table from her.
Keeping her eyes cast down made her look guilty of something.
He cleared his throat and when she finally did glance up, the fear in her eyes was a second punch. What was she so afraid of? Him? Of his reaction to her walking out with no real explanation? He’d nursed a bruised ego longer than he cared to admit.
Dawson waited until the jailor instructed her to sit and then moved to the corner. Arms folded across his chest and feet apart in an athletic stance, he waited.
Autumn didn’t sit. She stared at Dawson for a long moment and didn’t speak, like they were playing a game and the person who spoke first lost. Her cheeks flushed, a telltale sign her body still reacted to him whether she wanted to admit it or not. Physical attraction had never been their problem. There was something different about the way she stood that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. The oddities were racking up.
Even so, seeing her was a lightning strike in the center of the chest.
“Go away. You shouldn’t be here.” Hearing her voice again shouldn’t send a shot of warmth through his heart.
“Really? Because I was about to say the same thing about you.” He clasped his hands together on top of the table and leaned forward. “What’s going on, Autumn?”
That question could go way back to their past but that wasn’t what he was referring to right now.
“I don’t know what you mean, and my life is none of your business.” Her shoulders tensed and the lines on her forehead appeared like they did when she was concentrating. Her defensive posture spoke volumes about how she felt at seeing him again. He shouldn’t have expected anything less. She’d been clear about her intentions when she’d walked out and then had divorce papers served.
Those violet eyes threw darts at him. “Why are you here?”
“I came to return a few things you left at the ranch and to see if I can help you get yourself out of this...” he glanced around “...mess.”
“You don’t care about me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Autumn. I do care.” He wanted to add that he wished like hell that he didn’t. He’d known seeing her again was going to be hard on him. He just didn’t know how bad it was going to get.
