Chapter Five

The rising sun peeked through the blinds and filtered light into Ryker’s bedroom, turning his mismatched drapes an odd color of green that usually had him itching to cave and let his mother redecorate, but for some damn reason that fact didn’t matter a helluva lot anymore. Ryker rubbed a finger across his left brow, feeling the tension grow as his eye twitched. Stress? Foreboding? Hell, probably both.

Saturday morning. He turned to look at the clock beside his bed, not even giving the photo of him and his dad fishing a second thought. Six o’clock, and he hadn’t slept a wink. This was going to be a great, productive day at work. Not. Jo Jo, the mystery woman from his past, had slipped back into his life for a millisecond, and now he couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

He threw the covers back, determined to force her out of his head. A long, grueling run. That’s what I need.

Later, after his feet had hit the pavement in a steady rhythm for more than thirty minutes, his skin moist from exertion and the suffocating humidity, he made it back home, showered and dressed for work. But damned if his mind didn’t still linger on her. It was hopeless.

She looked thinner than he remembered. But even in that quirky cowgirl getup, he could tell her curves were still in all the right places. Shit, he could still feel her arms around his body in that sensuous grip as she planted tiny kisses along his neck and jaw, her fingers demanding and torturing, working their way downward and challenging his restraint with each mind-blowing touch.

He gave himself a mental slap as he opened his truck door, hoisted himself inside, and then slumped behind the wheel. Forget it. Forget her. Focus on work. That was the best option.

His cell buzzed on his hip.

The station. Trish’s line. Good thing he’d put it on silent for the night since the ring he’d assigned to Trish’s number was annoying as all get out—a safety measure to alert him when she called. Hell, he needed some way to prepare for her antics. Ryker rolled his eyes. Trish flirted constantly. Only problem was she was twice his age and married. To the sheriff.

“Kane.”

“Hey, handsome. What’s on the agenda today? You heading straight here or stopping by the McNamee’s place?”

His entire body tensed at the name, both from recognition and confusion. “I’m sorry; I’m not following.”

“Guess Wade didn’t pass on the message.” She grunted, shuffling through some papers on the other end of the line. “Lard-ass.”

He cleared his throat. “I haven’t gotten any messages.” He glanced down at his phone to make certain he hadn’t missed one. Trish’s willingness to call her husband names over the phone assured him of Sheriff Wade’s absence, but he clarified anyway. “Sheriff make it in yet?”

“Nope. Not been in all morning.”

“Do I need to head to the McNamee’s?”

“If you didn’t get the message, then I’d bet my bootylicious bod the sheriff took it upon himself to take care of things.”

Ryker scratched the back of his neck. Did he address her comment or brush it off?

Brush it off. Definitely. Brush it off, man.

“Thanks, Trish. Do you know what the call was about?”

“I can’t find the blasted note now.” There was more shuffling. “You wanna come help me find it?”

“Um… That’s okay. I’ll give the sheriff a call and see what’s up.” He ended the call quickly, but not before he heard her laughing. Most of the time she flirted to make him blush or extremely uncomfortable, which was fine. He was a big boy. He could take it. But something in her eyes made him think flirting wasn’t really all she wanted.

He shook off the weird vibe and backed out of the circle driveway. Never a dull moment. That was for sure.

His brain ticked off reasons for her alerting him about the McNamees. Trouble at the party last night? Jo Jo’s truck? Her crew?

Damn. Curiosity was getting the best of him. His buddy in the Houston office had given him the McNamee’s new address yesterday with the rest of the information he’d asked for. He eyed the slip of paper stuck in the cup holder beside his coffee mug. It so happened he’d pass right by the address on his way to the station. Might as well see if the sheriff was still there. He didn’t have to stop.

He took a left off the freeway onto the appropriate street. Nice neighborhood. Large lots. Covered in trees. Several ponds.

He listened to the crackle of his radio, the roar of his tires on the paved road as he counted off the numbers on the brick mailboxes. At the end of the street, he turned and about a half mile down came to a generous cul-de-sac. Only two houses on this section of the road. Huge iron gates arched over the driveway of the property sitting directly in front of him, the name McNamee intricately woven within the metal bars.

Off in the distance, about fifty feet away, sat Sheriff Wade’s cruiser. A nice cherry red BMW was parked beside it, but that’s not what kept his attention.

The huge, ornamental wrought-iron front door slammed open against the inside wall, a woman exiting and hurrying down the porch steps toward the BMW. He slowly pulled over to the shoulder to get a better view and stay unnoticed.

The woman fit Jo Jo’s petite frame, but the way she moved didn’t mesh with his memory. He could tell she wore high heels beneath the dark-colored pantsuit by way of her quick short steps. Shoes he doubted Jo Jo would be caught dead in.

A tall man filled the doorway. Jo Jo’s father, he imagined. The woman waved toward the porch then slipped into the car, but the man didn’t wave back. Odd. Maybe there’d been an argument? Could the sheriff’s call be for a domestic dispute?

He gave the grounds a quick once-over, admiring the attention to detail given to the Christmas decorations, and decided it might be in his best interest to put a little more effort into his own. Might help boost his holiday spirit.

The man he presumed to be Jo Jo’s father slipped back inside, leaving the door wide open. As he watched the woman behind the wheel of the small car, the seconds ticked off on his watch, and he started wondering about Wade’s location. Next thing he knew, the BMW tore down the drive, barely waiting long enough to exit the gate before it fully opened. There was no need for him to try and hide. At the speed the woman traveled, she’d be lucky if she even spotted Ryker’s truck, much less him sitting behind the wheel.

Lifting the radio, he called dispatch. “Has Sheriff Wade checked in?”

“Yes. About ten minutes ago. He’s still at the McNamee’s. Is there a problem?”

“No. No problem.” He returned the radio to its perch and put the truck in drive, trying to decide whether or not to pull in. Provoking Sheriff Wade was the last thing he needed or wanted.

Just as Ryker passed the driveway, lining his vehicle up with the front of the house, Sheriff Wade’s boisterous voice echoed through the air. Ryker heard him laughing before he saw the man through the open door. Well, what do you know? By the looks of things, Wade and McNamee were friends. Something Wade had failed to mention back at the station when they’d discussed the truck-jacking.

He gave the gas pedal an added push to get the hell out of view behind a row of tall shrubs. Like it or not, he’d have to wait until the sheriff returned to the station to find out what was going on, and that was only if Wade felt the need to share.

His teeth clamped tight in his mouth. He’d made this bed of aggravation. No one had wanted him to leave the Houston Police Department. It had been his choice to head back to his hometown. And he could always go back. His captain made certain he knew that was still on the table, but that meant facing the truth.

His last case had been closed. Against his recommendations. Against every moral fiber of his being. He’d have to forget and move on, something not even a cold day in hell could accomplish.

Those victims deserved justice. Not only his father’s old friend, who’d been murdered, but also Ryker’s partner.

…

Joanna finished off the last of her morning coffee, sitting in the plush hotel lobby of the Pine Woods Country Club and listened to the Christmas carols playing from the speakers above her as the steady stream of people from the party checked out. Thankfully, the majority of her father’s guests, including her, had stayed overnight. The few who insisted on leaving the hotel last night only gave her a few moments of grief over being chauffeured home on the company’s dime.

Relief washed over her with the next swallow. It was done. The party had gone well. No more kinks or hang-ups. And no more crew.

The disappointment over Toby and Jerry’s decision to join her father’s team still rolled around in her gut like sour milk. They’d be tough to replace. She sighed and focused on the potential threat to her father—for all his misguided attempts to sabotage her choice of career, the man cared about her; he just refused to believe he was ever wrong about anything.

Pulling out her cell phone, she searched for a call from Sam. She’d expected her friend to return before the party was over, but she hadn’t. And there were no messages. Typical Sam. She shook her head, wondering how her friend had spent the night.

“What on earth do you mean they aren’t there,” a woman’s shrill pitched voice crackled through the lobby. A couple stood arguing with the clerk at the front desk. “Yes, I’m positive we checked them in after the party last night.” The woman dug in her purse for something, pulled out a yellow ticket, and shoved it across the counter at the frazzled clerk. “Here. Here is my claim ticket.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll check again. I’m sure there is a simple explanation.” The young hotel clerk, a woman, maybe twenty-two, took the ticket and hurried behind a closed door.

The couple was incredibly upset. And when they turned their backs to the counter and faced her, Joanna recognized them instantly. Aw, hell no. Not the Hughes. Anyone but the Hughes.

Joanna’s temperature rose. This couple sat on the board of her father’s company and had been friends of the family for years. Had even known Joanna’s mother.

Bracing herself with steel courage, she rose from her chair and proceeded to the counter to see if she could help defuse the situation. The last thing she wanted, or could afford, was for this couple to report back to her father with anything negative about the party or their stay.

“Jo Jo!” The woman immediately saw her coming.

“Miss McNamee, we have a slight problem.” Mr. Hughes reaffirmed the panic in his wife’s voice with his tone.

“I’m so sorry. How can I help?”

“Call the police. We’ve been robbed!” Mrs. Hughes fanned herself like she might pass out. “It’s my grandmother’s emerald and diamond necklace set. I wore it to the party last night and”—she sniffled—“and they can’t find them.” Mrs. Hughes pointed over the counter to the door where the young clerk disappeared.

“They lost your jewelry?” Joanna’s heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach.

“Well, they can’t find it under my name. So I just gave them my claim ticket.” Mrs. Hughes twisted her hands together, pulling on the hem of her expensive blouse. “They’re priceless, Jo Jo. Been in my family for generations.”

Mr. Hughes placed a large hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Now, Martha. Let’s not get too worked up. They have the claim ticket. They’ll find them.” Although his words were meant to encourage, his tone failed to deliver confidence.

Joanna gently grasped the older woman’s hands and squeezed, watching as the tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. She’d rather face an angry mob than deal with this. “Let me see what I can do.” Joanna pulled out her cell phone—she had the manager’s number on speed dial, and this little mess up was unacceptable. After several rings, the call went straight to voicemail. And Joanna’s heart went straight into panic mode.

As they stood waiting for the clerk to return, another couple from the party walked up, nodding to Joanna and her companions. “Great party, Jo Jo.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Parker.”

The woman smiled back as her husband signed the bill and handed the clerk a yellow ticket.

An eerie sensation settled in Joanna’s dry mouth, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling at the sight of the claim ticket. And then the horrific nightmare dancing in her head materialized in full color.

“What do you mean they’re not there?” The man’s voice could have carved stone.

Both the Hughes gasped.

Joanna felt her knees begin to buckle and clamped onto the granite counter for extra support.

“Oh my God! The hotel’s been robbed!” Mrs. Hughes was in a state of shock. Her face flushed, sweat beading on her brow. “I told you we should have kept them in our room.”

The manager, Eric Reed, exited the back door with the young female clerk at his side, an unnerved look in his eyes as he met Joanna’s gaze.

“I’m afraid we have bad news.” His eyes never left hers. “After careful examination, we have concluded there has been a breach in our security.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” Joanna knew the answer. Deep down to her toes, she knew what Mr. Reed was going to say before he opened his mouth.

“We’ve been robbed.”

The words felt like a bullet to her heart. Of all the things that could have gone wrong, this was the absolute worst. How many guests had used the hotel’s safe to store their valuables? She swallowed back the bitter taste in her mouth.

“We’ve called the authorities. They’re on their way now.” Reed leaned over and whispered something to the young clerk, who nodded and headed down the hallway.

“Good.” For some irrational reason, Joanna’s thoughts immediately went to Deputy Kane. Would he be involved? He was a cop. But he was a small-town cop, and there was no way this was his jurisdiction.

“If you would please follow me to the conference room. We will be taking statements from our guests there and logging in the valuables missing.” The manager directed the distraught couples off to the left with a wave of his hand.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll stay and wait for the cops.” Joanna was afraid to move for fear of collapsing to the floor. “What conference room?”

“The Magnolia Room.”

“Got it.”

“Miss McNamee, I am so sorry. This has never happened in the history of this hotel.”

“I don’t understand how—”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it.” He nodded, concern etched in his eyes.

She shook her head, unable to form the words to express her feelings, and he hurried off to join the Hughes and Parkers.

Family heirlooms. She forced air into her lungs as her heart ached. Priceless treasures like these could never be replaced.

Frustration oozed from her pores as she dialed Sam’s number. The robbery was bad enough, but the eerie tone of the woman’s voice by the pool still hounded her, and intuition had her thinking Denise played a part in this burglary as well. She bit back a curse.

“Hey, Jo Jo. Thank God you called. This isn’t good.” Sam’s voice was slurred, slow, her words dragging.

“What’s wrong? You don’t sound well.”

“Hang on a sec.” The phone made a loud whack, and then she heard her friend throwing up on the other end.

Joanna clamped her lips together, trying to ward off a sympathy gag. Sam loved to party, but it had been quite a while since she’d gotten that drunk. “Where are you? I’ll come to you.”

Nothing.

“Sam? Please talk to me.” The seconds passed like hours. Finally, Joanna heard Sam moving around. The toilet flushed and then she was back on the phone.

“Jo, I think I’ve been drugged. This is not like any hangover I’ve ever had. And I only had two drinks last night.”

“Drugged? Where are you? I’ll come get you. You may need a doctor.”

“Funny thing.” Her friend tried to laugh but it trickled out in a broken cough. “I have no idea.”

“This isn’t funny. You really don’t remember where you are? Did you meet up with your friend?” Joanna hurried out the front entrance just as several cop cars pulled up.

“Miss McNamee, you okay?” The deep voice sent shivers down her spine.

Shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, she looked up and swallowed back a moan. The handsome Deputy Kane stood mere inches in front of her. He smelled heavenly, and, close up in the sunlight, he looked even better than she remembered. Clean-shaven, hair smoothed back from his forehead, his eyes such a beautiful shade of brown. A sense of security and safety soothed her. Like he’d done when they were in high school, he’d somehow make all of this right.

“Miss McNamee. You look like you need to sit down.”

Sit down? Hell no. She needed to run.

“Jo Jo,” Sam said over the phone. “You still there?”

Joanna fought off the awkwardness. “Yes, I’m here. Hang on a sec.” She pulled the phone away and dared to look the Greek god in the eyes. “My friend is in some kind of trouble.”

“Does this have anything to do with the robbery?” Kane placed a warm hand on her shoulder and led her over to the valet station, where he eased her down onto an iron bench.

The heat of his touch calmed her further. “I’m not sure.”

He took a step closer, his large frame shadowing her on the bench. “Your friend, where is she now?”

Joanna placed the phone back to her ear. “Sam, look around. What do you see? There has to be something that will tell you where you are.”

“I can’t see. Everything is blurry. That’s why I didn’t call you. I couldn’t find my damn phone until I heard it ring.”

Joanna covered the speaker and relayed the message to Kane. “She thinks someone drugged her. She can’t see well enough to tell where she is.”

“That is serious. May I?” He pointed to the phone.

“Sam, Deputy Kane wants to talk to you, okay?”

“The hottie from yesterday? Hell ya, that’s okay.” Sam’s playful attitude despite the circumstances had to be a good sign, right?

She handed him the phone, and he smiled, a soft, compassionate look filling his eyes and doing weird shit to her. Even worried about her friend, all those tingly, teenage roller-coaster feelings from high school stirred to life.

“Ma’am.” He paused, a muscle clenching in his jaw. “Yes, of course. Sam, what do you remember about last night?”

Kane’s appealing kindness caused a hot rush of heat to creep up her neck and settle on the tips of her ears when he moved closer to block out the sun. When his hard stomach brushed against her shoulder, her breath stalled. She barely registered the commotion of the other officers hurrying into the building. Glancing up, she found him watching her intently, one brow raised. Should she tell him who she was? Get all the embarrassing details out in the open? Or pray he didn’t remember and just tell him about the woman she’d overheard by the pool?

“Okay, why don’t you start from the beginning?” he asked Sam.

She blinked, knowing she needed to get a grip. But he looked good. Too damn good. His dark wavy brown hair. His sculpted jawline. His broad shoulders and biceps straining against the fabric of the short-sleeve tan shirt. And that voice. He’d find Sam and help her. She just knew it.

After several minutes of questions, Kane leaned down and handed the phone back to her, his arm grazing hers as he grabbed his portable radio. “We need an ambulance sent to The Ashton Grande, 2308 Becker Drive, room 618. Woman in need of medical attention. Not sure if door is locked or not.”

Joanna gave her head a shake, her focus back on Sam. “How do you know where she is?” She’d heard every question he asked Sam, and not one answer could have led him to that conclusion.

“I used to work downtown. There’s only one hotel near the rail system.”

“And you heard the train?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And the room number? You didn’t get that by listening to a train.”

“No, ma’am. Sam, your friend, remembered she’d gotten a note from someone to meet in the lobby of The Ashton Grande. She’s not sure how she ended up in a room, but the key in her pocket says 618.” He smiled again, that sexy smirk that made her stomach do a flip.

“Oh.” She didn’t like the effect this man still had on her. He was older now, too rugged, too damn masculine, too…well…too damn good to be true. “Are you here about the burglary?” she asked, trying to stay on track and keep her hormones under control.

“Among other things.”

She didn’t like the way he said that, either. His tone made her all numb inside, and it wasn’t a good numb. More like that prickly numb that follows after your arm falls asleep. “What other things?”

“Your missing crew, for one. Being a small-town cop, if I get a call about a burglary, or hijacking in your case, it’s my case from start to finish. I don’t have detectives to hand it off to. And a Mr. Coleman called this morning, saying he had more information about what happened to your truck. Said I could find him here today.”

“Keith called you?” She nodded, although inwardly she wondered what her friend would tell the deputy that he hadn’t told her last night. Maybe he’d gotten information out of Toby and Jerry. “Why would a small-town cop be called in on a robbery in the Houston city limits? This can’t be your jurisdiction.”

He smirked. “I’m not at liberty to say. But I assure you my presence here is valid. You can call my boss if you’d like. Give him my badge number.” His assertiveness told her he was enjoying this little exchange way too much. He liked having the upper hand.

“Not necessary. The manager of the hotel, Eric Reed, is in the Magnolia room waiting for you and your compadres. As for Keith, I’m not sure why he called you. My crew showed up on their own last night. Said they’d been in a bar down the street drinking and trying to find the courage to face me.”

“Really?”

She inhaled deep to combat the sting of betrayal still worming its way through her gut. “Yep. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see if I can meet Sam at The Ashton Grande.” She smiled her sweetest smile, stood, and hurried away as fast as her legs would move without buckling. Could all this be a strange coincidence? Her dad having something to do with her hijacked truck still gave her hesitation, but the hotel robbery and Sam’s predicament sure as hell didn’t.

“If you miss the ambulance, they’ll take her to Memorial Downtown.”

“Right, thanks.” She turned to get one last glance.

“No, thank you, Ms. McNamee.” He gave her a polite nod that jelled her knees. “Will you be around later, in case I have further questions?”

“Sure. I still have to settle up with the hotel. And it’s Jo Jo,” she said, not even trying to hide the annoyance in her voice. His insistence on calling her by her mother’s name was really starting to piss her off. Not to mention that they’d made out and he didn’t remember. She didn’t do one-night stands. Hell, who was she kidding? She didn’t do relationships period. She had no time. Her first priority was her business, and that’s the way she liked it.

Once around the corner of the building where she’d parked her truck, she let out a low, fierce growl. Get a freaking grip!

So he’d done a few nice things for her back in high school. Okay, more than a few. One of which was taking the blame for her and Sam after they’d gotten drunk and spray-painted hearts on the football field before the big game with their rivals. Ryker had found them in the act, tossed the empty cans in his truck bed, and driven them home. The next day at school, Joanna found out he’d been pulled over by the local sheriff, a friend of her dad’s. The evidence in the back of Ryker’s truck condemned him without explanation. She’d tried to tell her father the truth, but he’d waved her off and told her to quit trying to save the world.

She hated the fact her father had been right. Ryker proved his true colors that night back in college. Making a bet with his buds at the bar that he could get her into his bed was lower than low, regardless of how sweet and charming he’d been in high school or how appealing she found him now. She moaned inwardly.

There’s no reason for this man to still have such a powerful effect on you.

A lie she planned to keep telling herself until hell froze over. Or until it worked.