Angi Morgan - Ranger Protector

“I’m a little confused. What does living on one military base after another have to do with anything? I asked why you were helping me.” She repeated all the signs that she was frustrated, then ended with her elbow propped against the window.

Somehow he was no longer confused or frustrated with making a decision. Trying to explain it made him realize he wasn’t leaving her alone. She wouldn’t be the reason he broke his word.

“I guess things are different in a small town. A man’s only as good as his name, and that’s only good if he keeps his word. So that promise you’re dismissing is the only reason I need.”

“I see. So you aren’t taking me to my office and/or to turn myself in?”

“I’ll do whatever you need. But until I hear from my partner, I’m sticking close. No reason I can’t park my butt in a chair outside whatever cell they put you in.”

“You really think they’ll—Of course they will. It’s a good thing we’re stopping by the house. I have a backup drive in my safe.”

“Wait. What backup drive?” He switched on his blinker and caught a flashing light in his rearview mirror. “Somebody’s in a hurry.”

He slowed at the side of the road, letting two emergency vehicles pass. Then turned up the chatter on his radio.

“Did they say Whitebrush Loop?”

It was her street. He had a bad feeling about what they’d find when they tried to turn the last corner. A barricade stopped them two blocks away.

“Jack.” She grabbed his arm with that hand he’d been admiring. “They’re in front of my house. How can we find out what’s going on?”

He unsnapped his seat belt and faced her. “You have to trust me and stay here. Doors locked. If anyone looks cross-eyed at you, start honking. Got it?”

She shook her head. “All these cops to bring me in? It doesn’t make sense.”

He stepped from the truck and pulled his credentials, displaying them on his belt. Then he remembered the keys and locked the doors. It wouldn’t keep her inside, but it would keep a threat out.

The first Austin police officer let him through without any questions. The ones who were a little closer started to speak, but he cut them off. “Who’s in charge?” Two pointed him in the right direction.

A man in a suit was talking to someone gearing up with bomb gear. Jack hung back, trying to eavesdrop without looking like he was eavesdropping.

“You think it’s a legitimate call,” said the officer in charge.

“You’ve evacuated the homes. Now you need to get the rest of these people farther back.” The bomb-squad guy fastened another piece of gear in place.

“We’re working on it. I just wish we could confirm she’s inside like the threat says.” Suit turned to the house.

Jack followed in the same direction. His view was blocked until he took a couple of steps to the right and saw the barricades around the address Megan had given him. That bad feeling shouted at him to get the hell off the street. He casually took a couple of steps backward, then flipped around, hurriedly retracing his steps.

“Get these people back,” he ordered.

Megan had said she worked in the State Fire Marshal’s Office. Bombs equaled fires in his book. Whoever was setting her up was going to follow through on his threat.

“Why are they evacuating the block?” Megan asked.

She was leaning on the last barricade. Any person with a cell out recording this event—and there were several—could recognize her and wave at the cop five feet away.

Wait. Proof. They needed proof she wasn’t in the house and hadn’t left his side.

Jack looked like a gawker as he pressed Record and pointed his cell at the entire scene, ending on Megan’s face. She didn’t question him. Maybe she put the reason together, because she struck a pose pointing to the time on her watch.

“Whatever’s going on down there, I had nothing to do with it.”

Finished, he laced his fingers with hers and got them back in the truck, pushing her through the driver’s-side door. They were half a block away when the explosion shook the ground.

“Oh, dear Lord,” she whispered, covering her face with her hands.

Jack had time to look over his shoulder as he paused for the onlookers to run through the street. They inched their way forward while more emergency vehicles responded. He could see the smoke billowing behind them, hear the chaos on the radio—which he turned off.

“Why?”

“The police think you were inside. It’s probably the woman—”

“My look-alike they used at the county clerk’s murder scene,” she finished.

“That’s my guess.”

“I hope no one was hurt or loses their homes because of me.” She used the edge of her T-shirt to dry the corners of her eyes. “None of this makes sense.”

“We’re almost out of here. Just a sec.” Safely on the opposite side of Farm Road 620, he pulled into a subdivision and parked on an unfinished road. “You should probably tell me what’s going on now.”

“But I swear I don’t know.” She got out of the truck. She wasn’t likely to run away again, but he shut the engine off and followed her.

He dropped the tailgate and offered to help her up. She popped her slim, tall frame onto the gate without any assistance. “When we first arrived you mentioned a backup drive in your safe. Why was it important enough that someone wanted to blow it up?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t know the man killed in Dallas and don’t know why someone’s doing this. My trip was practically uneventful. I haven’t connected any dots. There’s nothing to back me up. Especially now that my house is gone.”

“What’s your theory? You have a better reason they blew up your house?”

“I don’t have one.”

Oh, yeah, she did. Should he tell her that her voice got softer when she stretched the truth? He’d keep the information to himself for the time being. “That’s everything I own, you know. My first home where I could choose the colors and plants and even the refrigerator.” She repositioned her long hair and shivered. “I’m still paying on the refrigerator.”

The sun was warm, but the breeze made it cool enough for a jacket. He took her hand and pulled her a little closer until he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. She could possibly be in shock or still suffering from the drugs at the airport.

He didn’t think too hard on whether it was appropriate or not. Especially when she leaned her face into the crook of his arm, not really crying, but her entire body jerked with a couple of sniffs.

Definitely safer inside the truck, but he guessed she needed to be where she was. She took the comfort he offered. He kept silent, waiting for the rest of the story. Hiding as much of her as he could from the road that was getting busier with onlookers.

“I told you the truth.” She sniffed. “Most of my work is inside a cubicle. But occasionally I take investigative trips.”

“So you found something and took one to Dallas. Why?”

“Actually, I was ordered to go. Which in itself is strange. They informed me after they’d already booked my ticket. I needed to meet with an insurance-company representative who had questions about several properties.”

“An owner was getting too greedy?”

Megan sat up straight, turning slightly so she could face him, brushing the makings of a tear away from the corner of her eye. “No, but they all have the same seller. All sold in the past seven months to different buyers. Approximately six weeks later, there was a fire ruled to be an accident. The buyers lost everything.”

“That sounds sort of suspicious.” He kept an eye open for cars headed their direction, but most were moving away from the streets close to Megan’s home. Two additional fire trucks joined the other first responders. “What did you find?”