Joanna Wayne - The Second Son

But Lacy didn’t need him to understand her. She needed him to find her and protect her.

“I’m not sure where this story begins, Sheriff, so I’ll give you a little of the background.” She searched her mind for the right words, the right facts to share with the eager lawman. The right ones to keep secret.

“Kate moved back to Texas a year ago. She was broke. I asked Charles Castile if he could help her find a job.”

“Your fiance´?”

“Only he wasn’t my fiance´ then, just my boss. He pulled strings, got her a job in spite of her lack of skills and her police record.”

“What kind of job?”

“She went to work as a waitress out at Joshua Kincaid’s San Antonio nightclub. Charles does a lot of work for Kincaid, and he hired Kate on as a favor. I know a lot of people don’t like Mr. Kincaid, but he’s been nothing but nice to my sister and to me when I’ve been around him.”

“I don’t think anyone complains about Joshua Kincaid’s social skills. It’s his lack of scruples that brings the criticism.”

“Anyway, Kate went to work for Kincaid and through that job she met and got involved with Ricky Carpenter. Apparently he’s a friend of Joshua Kincaid’s. He played pro football until he suffered that career-ending injury a couple of years ago.”

“So how does Ricky enter into all of this?”

“He and Kate have been a thing ever since they met. She’s crazy about him. He acts like he’s just as crazy about her. She moved into his town house a few months ago.”

“The one that just got bombed?”

She nodded.

Branson crossed an ankle over his knee, man style. “So, tell me how Ricky enters into Kate’s taking a bullet in the shoulder.”

Jittery spasms attacked Lacy’s nerves. Charles and Ricky had both warned her that this should go no further, that if she talked to the police, she might well be signing Ricky’s and Kate’s death certificates. But now she couldn’t trust Charles, and even before she’d run out on her bargain with him, someone had tried to kill Kate.

“I can’t help you, Lacy, unless you talk to me.”

“I’m not sure you can anyway.”

“Someone is trying to kill your sister. How much worse do you think it can get?”

Branson was right. She’d tried to play by the bad guys’ rules. She couldn’t afford to do that any longer. She sucked in a shaky breath and forced herself to talk. “Ricky came to see me one night about four weeks ago.”

“What about?”

“Trouble. He showed up at my apartment about midnight, ringing the doorbell and banging on the door. I probably wouldn’t have let him in at that time of the night had he not looked as if he might die on my doorstep if I didn’t.”

“Was he ill?”

“No. His face and arms were bruised and blood was caked on his forehead and matted in his hair.”

“Did you call for help? An ambulance? Police?”

“No, he begged me not to. And instead of being cocky and arrogant the way he usually is, he seemed fearful, desperate.”

“What explanation did he give you for the bruises?”

“He said he’d been jumped and attacked by two men who had beaten him within an inch of his life and promised more would return if he didn’t come up with the fifty thousand dollars they said he owed them. A gambling debt. Only next time they promised it wouldn’t stop with a beating. It would end in a death—Kate’s.”

She was shivering again, inside and out. Branson touched a hand to her shoulder, and it was all she could do not to lean into him, not to bury her head against his broad chest. She trembled but didn’t give in to the tears that pushed at the back of her eyelids.

“Take it easy,” he said. “Just get the story out. Then we’ll decide what to do.”

“I’m not usually like this.” Her voice broke.

“You don’t usually have to worry about the safety of your sister.”

“More often than you know. It’s just that this is the first time I haven’t been able to at least talk to her.”

“Still, it’s no crime to show emotion.”

She bit her bottom lip. It might not be a crime, but she’d learned long ago what showing weakness got you. And she doubted if the good sheriff sitting beside her ever indulged. He was too much in control, too unruffled by explosions to believe him capable of ever losing his cool or exposing his vulnerabilities.

“Did you give Ricky the money?” Branson asked, his gaze fastened on her face.

She lowered her own gaze to the concrete walk beneath her feet. “I would have in a second if I’d had it. I didn’t. But I didn’t have to think about it long. Ricky begged me to go to Charles and ask for the money.”

“Four weeks ago. By that time you and Charles must have been engaged?”

She nodded, knowing it was the same as lying. She drew into herself, alone with the rest of the secrets, the ones she didn’t dare reveal. Branson would find out soon enough, and when he did, he’d do what any good officer of the law would. He’d throw her into jail.

“And did Charles lend him the money?”

“Yes.”

“What did Ricky use for collateral?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t get into the details with them. They worked it out between themselves.”

Branson fingered the brim of his hat. “So, let’s see if I have this straight. You asked your wealthy fiance´ for a loan of fifty thousand dollars because you thought it would save your sister’s life. He agreed and the two of you went back to the business of planning a wedding.”

“That pretty much sums it up.”

“So, if the men got their money, why would they still be trying to kill Kate?”

“That’s the same question I’ve been asking myself ever since you told me she’d been shot.”

“Where’s Ricky now?”

“I have no idea.”

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

She shook her head and then raked flyaway wisps of hair from her cheeks. “Ricky called me on the phone a few days after the beating and thanked me for getting Charles to lend him the money. That’s the last I’ve heard from him.”

Branson stared straight ahead. “This makes absolutely no sense.”

“I agree, but I’ve told you everything I know. So, if you’d lend me a few dollars, I’ll catch a cab and go see if Charles will at least let me back into the house to get my things. I’ll pay you back. Of course, you’ll have to take my word on that.”

“I’m not a trusting sort. Besides, I have a better idea. You can go home with me.”

“I don’t think so, Sheriff.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking,” he added quickly. “It’s the family ranch down in Kelman. You’ll have a room of your own and the most diligent chaperon in the state of Texas—my mom. So you won’t have to worry about your virtue not being as intact when you leave as when you arrive.”

Suspicion edged along her nerve endings. “Why would you invite me to your home? You don’t know me or anything about me.”

“I can’t resist coming to the aid of a beautiful woman in danger.”

She didn’t buy that for a second. “I’m not in danger. I’m an innocent bystander.”

“Then come with me for the sake of the investigation. I’m looking for your sister. I’ll need to know everything you know about her life and her habits if I’m to find her before her would-be killer does.” He stood up, taking her hand and tugging her to her feet as well. “Besides, Charles isn’t your husband. There’s no honeymoon to hurry back to.”

“How long are we talking about?”

“How long can you spare?”

“Let’s see, at this point I’m sure I no longer have a position at Castile’s law firm, I gave up my apartment already, and I doubt Charles is going to welcome me back into his home in the hills with open arms.”