Читать книгу Rescued by a Ranger - Tanya Michaels - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“You haven’t said anything since we left the steak house.” Stupid. Since when was Sergeant Zane Winchester reduced to stating the obvious? His razor-sharp instincts had helped solve cold cases and take down crooked politicians. Colleagues sought his input because he was known for having a quick mind, but a few hours in his teenage daughter’s company made him feel like an inept rookie fumbling with a gun for the first time, capable of shooting himself in the foot with one stray word.

Eden glared from the passenger seat of the truck. “What do you want me to say? Thanks for ruining the first nice time I was having since I got shipped to this godforsaken town?”

There were so many things wrong with her retort that he didn’t know where to begin. My fault. Too out of practice. He hadn’t tried hard enough to keep a close bond with her while she and his ex, Valerie, lived in California. Eden didn’t let an hour pass without reminding him that she hated her parents’ decision to relocate her. She saw her mother as selfish for ditching her, and she clearly viewed Zane more as prison warden than father.

“What exactly did I do?” Zane asked, trying to better understand the daughter he no longer knew.

“You practically threatened that cute waiter at lunch! You might as well have pulled your gun on him.”

“You’re exaggerating by a mile. And that ‘cute waiter’ was too old to be flirting with my fifteen-year-old daughter.” He steered onto their street. “You may think you’re an adult, Eden Jo, but you’re not. Adults face the consequences of their actions. You blame your mama for sending you here, but you refuse to take responsibility for your part in forcing her hand.”

“Why are you defending her?” To Eden’s credit, she sounded genuinely baffled rather than sarcastic. “You should be mad, too. You didn’t want me here.”

“That’s not true!” Rather than take the time to pull into the garage, he angled crookedly in their driveway and cut the engine so he could focus on her. He studied her face, marveling at the changes. This wasn’t the little girl with blond pigtails he used to carry on his shoulders. She was a young woman now, with two thin streaks of hot pink framing her face.

Strips of neon aside, she looked so much like Valerie that he couldn’t help a twinge of nervous déjà vu. As a teenager, Val had been beautiful, fascinating and self-destructive. He prayed the similarities between mother and daughter would prove superficial.

He put a hand on Eden’s shoulder, an awkward substitution for a hug. “I love you. Even if I’m not crazy about the behavior that led you here, I’m glad to have this time with you.”

Her green eyes glittered. “Yeah, I can tell how much you care by all those visits to California and the dozens of phone conversations we had.” She wrenched open her door and hopped to the pavement.

He followed, still trying to frame his explanation as he unlocked the front door. On the other side, the dog was already going nuts, barking in manic greeting.

It had hurt like hell to let go of his daughter, but he’d thought it best. When he and Val had divorced, Eden had been just starting that tumultuous journey from adolescence to physical maturity. He’d known there would be questions and scenarios she’d be embarrassed to discuss with him. Instead of an acrimonious custody battle that would compound the pain of the divorce, he’d let Val take her. As Val had reminded him, at least she was around for their daughter, rather than chasing bad guys all across the state of Texas.

With Eden’s displeasure filling the foyer, it seemed even colder in the house than it had out in the brisk March breeze. “I never would have given up custody so easily if I hadn’t believed it was in your best interest. I figured you’d be better—”

“I was better off in California,” she interrupted. “If you really loved me, you’d let me go back to my friends and my life there!” Tears spilling from her eyes, she stalked down the hall to the guest room. A moment later, the little ranch-style house shook with the force of her slammed door.

He shifted his weight, torn between the urge to go hug her and the urge to reprimand her for the temperamental display. At the rate she was going, he’d have to replace all the hinges in the house by the time she went back to school on Monday.

“I need some air,” he told the dog, a black border collie and shepherd mix splotched with white and gold. “Want to go for a walk?”

Grabbing the leash that hung on a nearby Peg-Board, he called out, “Eden, I’m taking Dolly for a walk around the neighborhood.” Unsurprisingly, there was no answer.

Zane hesitated. Was it better to intrude, to hammer home the fact that he was here for her, or should he give her space to adjust to their new arrangement? He wasn’t used to feeling conflicted. In years past, Zane and his ex-wife had argued about his “rigid” black-and-white worldview, but having a teenager in the house certainly challenged that perspective. Throwing tantrums and slamming doors were inexcusable for a fifteen-year-old, yet it was difficult to fault Eden’s behavior when he was so ashamed of his own. As a father, it had been his responsibility to stay involved in her life, no matter how many miles separated them.

A couple of years ago, when Eden had asked to skip visiting Fredericksburg for the summer because she wanted to attend camp with her friends, he’d agreed instantly. He’d been mired in task force duties as the Rangers sought to shut down a cartel whose members kept slipping across the border. The following June, Eden had stayed in California because her uncharacteristic dip in grades necessitated summer school. He’d seen her for a few days at Christmas, but awkwardly exchanging presents before sticking her back on a plane wasn’t real parenting.

With a sigh, he hooked the leash on Dolly’s harness and stepped outside. After only two weeks, Zane was feeling as weary as Val had sounded on the phone.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” his ex-wife had complained. “Maybe she’s acting out because she wants your attention. Or maybe I just suck as a role model. But the way she’s been behaving, these kids she’s been hanging out with...” Her voice had quivered with maternal fear. “You’ve gotta fix her, Zane. Before she lands in real trouble.”

Could he do it? He’d spent a chunk of his life trying to “fix” Val, to no avail. The day he’d signed his divorce papers, he swore he’d learned his lesson. No more rehabilitation attempts thinly disguised as romance. If he ever got involved with a woman again, it had to be as equals. He didn’t want to be anyone’s life coach or shining knight. The only rescues he’d perform would be in his professional life—a philosophy he’d stuck by, with the exception of Dolly.

After a few weeks of steady meals and belly rubs, Dolly had idolized him. Repairing his relationship with Eden would be far more complicated.

“Doggy!”

Zane glanced up and saw a little girl shoot out of the house next to his. Probably no older than four or five, she looked like a walking accessories department. Her pink shirt and sweatpants were nondescript, but she’d worn them with a sequined scarf and sparkly plastic high heels. The yellow sunglasses dominating her face were so large they made him think of circus clowns. A tiara perched crookedly on her red-gold curls, its fake gemstones sparkling in the sun; clip-on earrings dangled from her lobes, and a feather-trimmed purse hung from her forearm. Peeking out of it was a plastic Tyrannosaurus rex whose snarling expression and sharp teeth were incongruous with her rather exuberant glamour.

He paused, overcome with nostalgia. It seemed only yesterday Eden had been in the throes of her sparkly princess phase. Yet now she was a sullen stranger who stood as tall as his shoulder. The T-rex-toting girl wobbled on her dress-up shoes, then went down with a splat in her front yard.

Shushing Dolly’s frenetic woofing, he hurried toward the kid. “Are you okay?”

Her bottom lip trembled. Patches of mud covered her knees. “Ow!”

Previous parenting experience had taught him that sometimes too much sympathy reminded the child she was in pain, while matter-of-fact conversation could work as a distraction. He reeled in Dolly’s retractable leash to keep her from licking the girl’s face. “Why do you carry a dinosaur in your purse?”

“It’s a dog, but you hafta use your imagination. My chihuahua got ripped.” The way she said the word, it came out “chowawowa.” She sniffled. “Mommy’s gonna fix her but she’s been too busy with other sewing.”

He helped the little girl to her feet. “So, why do you carry a chihuahua in your purse?”

“Because I’m fabulous.” She punctuated her statement with an exasperated duh look.

“Get your hands off my daughter!” A dark-haired woman flew through the open door at such high speed that he half expected her to face-plant on the lawn, too. She snatched the girl into a protective hug against her body.

The child wiggled, either in embarrassment or protest at her mother’s grip. Zane had the absent thought that the freckles smattering the woman’s cheeks seemed out of place, too sweet and potentially girlish for someone who’d barreled down on him like an avenging angel.

He took a step back, murmuring softly to Dolly, whose hackles had risen at the woman’s shrill approach. “Ma’am, I was just checking to make sure she wasn’t hurt when she fell. Zane Winchester.” He tipped his white cowboy hat in greeting. “I live next door. You must be the lady Kelsey and Dave got to house-sit?”

She cast him a fleeting glance before returning her attention to the little girl. “You scared me, Belle. What are you doing outside? Never, never open the door without me! I told you we’d play in the yard after I went to the bathroom. And after you changed shoes.”

The girl’s eyes, which were the same golden-brown as her mother’s, grew wider and wider, then filled with belated tears. Her left leg buckled dramatically as if she were in too much pain to stand. Zane tried to suppress his grin. And the award for best actress under ten goes to...

“I hurt my leg, Mommy.”

“Leaving the house without an adult, you’re lucky you weren’t hurt much worse!” The woman plunged a hand through her short hair, let out an aggrieved sigh, then turned back to Zane. “I suppose I should apologize for snapping your head off.”

“You were worried about your child and don’t know me,” he said. “I’m a parent myself. I get it.” She was new to the area, surrounded by strangers—he’d been in California collecting his daughter when the brunette had moved in two weekends ago. Maybe she’d lived in a bad neighborhood before this. It would certainly explain her eyeing him as if he were a convicted criminal.

She tugged on her daughter’s arm. “We should get you cleaned up.”

“Then can we blow bubbles?” Belle negotiated. “We’ve been inside all day. It’s boring!”

“Maybe. In the backyard.”

“I still haven’t pet the doggy,” Belle said pitifully. “What’s his name?”

“She’s a girl,” Zane said. He should walk away. It would be easier for Belle’s mama to coax the child inside without the temptation of the dog. But he found himself curious about his new neighbors. “Her name’s Dolly.”

“Dolly? That doesn’t sound like a dog name.”

“Tell me about it,” he commiserated. “I’d feel a lot less silly yelling something like ‘Scout’ across the dog park. But I found her while I was doing cleanup after Hurricane Dolly and started calling her that before I realized I was keeping her.” In a lot of ways, it had been fitting to name her after a natural disaster. Only a puppy back in 2008, she’d done some significant damage to his belongings in the first few months he’d owned her.

“Change her name,” Belle instructed as she patted Dolly on the head. “That’s what me and Mommy did.”

He frowned, puzzled. “You changed your pet’s name?”

At the same time Belle informed him in tragic tones that she did not have a pet, her mother stammered, “N-nicknames. She means nicknames! Belle is short for Isabelle and I go by Alex instead of Alexandra. Alex Hunt.”

“I’m Zane,” he repeated. “Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, but it took her a moment before she shook it, watching him warily the entire time. She was a stark change from bubbly Kelsey.

Alex raised her gaze, starting to say something, but then she froze like a possum in oncoming headlights.

“Ms. Hunt? Everything okay?”

She eyed the encircled silver star pinned to his denim button-down shirt. He’d been working this morning and hadn’t bothered to remove the badge. “Interesting symbol,” she said slowly.

“Represents the Texas Rangers.”

“Like the baseball team?”

“No, ma’am. Like the law enforcement agency.” Maybe that would make her feel safer about her temporary home. He jerked his thumb toward his house. “You have a bona fide lawman living right next door.”

Beneath the freckles, her face went whiter than his hat. “Really? That’s...” She gave herself a quick shake. “Come on, Belle. Inside now. Before, um, before that mud stains.”

“Okay.” Belle hung her head but rallied long enough to add, “Bye, Mister Zane. I hope I get to pet Dolly again soon.”

From Alex’s behavior, Zane had a suspicion they wouldn’t be getting together for neighborly potluck dinners anytime in the near future. Instead of commenting on the kid’s likelihood of seeing Dolly again, he waved. “Bye, Belle. Stay fabulous.”

She beamed. “I will!”

Then mother and daughter disappeared into the house, the front door banging shut behind them.

“Is there something about me,” he asked Dolly, “that makes females want to slam doors?”

The only response he got from the dog was an impatient tug on her leash. “Right. I promised you a walk.” They started again down the sidewalk, but he found himself periodically glancing over his shoulder and pondering his new neighbors. Cute kid, but she seemed like a handful. And Alex Hunt, once she’d calmed from her mama-bear fury, was perhaps the most skittish woman he’d ever met. If she were a horse, she’d have to wear blinders to keep from jumping at her own shadow. Zane wondered if there was a Mr. Hunt in the picture.

Not that it mattered. The Hunts would only be here for a matter of months, and he had more pressing priorities than getting to know them. He didn’t have the time or energy to win over a nervous neighbor. He still had to figure out how to win over his daughter.

* * *

A RANGER. ALEX LEANED against the closed door for support, her palm pressed to her racing heart.

Plenty of women would experience an increase in their pulses at the sight of Zane’s green eyes and coal-black hair, but she was more concerned with his occupation than his chiseled cheekbones or broad shoulders. An honest-to-God, badge-wearing, gun-toting, sworn-to-uphold-the-law Texas freaking Ranger! Bryce had neglected to mention that.

Josie, without a shy bone in her body—or any concern for the expensive area rug that didn’t belong to them—plopped right down in the entryway and began stripping off her muddy leggings. Not Josie, Alex reminded herself. Belle. If she was going to keep from blowing their covers, the new names had to be all the time, even in her own thoughts. Otherwise, someone was going to address her as Alex in public and she was going to forget they meant her.

“Belle” happened to be the name of her daughter’s favorite Disney princess. She’d seen the movie for the first time last month and had watched the DVD approximately six hundred times since then. Making the switch to the new name had been easy enough, especially once Alex explained that Belle meant beautiful. Her little girl had liked that, even if she hadn’t understood why she had to commit to a single new name and couldn’t keep changing it every week.

Alex’s alias had been chosen for her. When Bryce had handed her the ID, she’d been so fixated on how odd she looked in the picture—her hair dyed espresso with auburn highlights and cropped in a sleek bob that hugged her jawline—that it had taken a moment for the name to even register. She’d told Bryce to surprise her, paranoid that anything she picked would subconsciously hold meaning for her and somehow provide a lead for an astute private investigator.

“Alexandra Hunt?” she’d read, trying to imagine herself as an Alexandra. It seemed too exotic and sophisticated for a single mom whose life consisted of more macaroni than martinis. Then again, being a fugitive was pretty exotic.

Bryce’s face had reddened. “She was a character from an old video game, one of the first that got me hooked on gaming. I had kind of a cyber crush on her.”

“You named me for a character?” she’d shrieked. “Bryce, anonymity is our goal here! Why not just send me out into the world calling me Lara Croft?”

He’d been unfazed by her anxiety. “Okay, first, there could be lots of civilians who coincidentally have that name. Secondly, no one’s going to make the connection. This wasn’t a bestselling game. The ideas were solid, but the packaging and distribution...” Then he’d gone on a tangent about software platforms and market shares.

“Mommy?” Belle stood naked, hands on her hips. Alex had been too lost in thought to realize her daughter hadn’t stopped with the muddy pants. “Since I got dirty outside, don’t you think I should take a bath? Do we have any more of those crayons?”

The sudden attention to hygiene was an obvious ploy to pull out her favorite tub toys and splash around, but Alex was all in favor of that plan. Though she knew she couldn’t keep her daughter housebound for the next five and a half months, she didn’t like the idea of Belle hanging out in the yard, within easy conversational distance of the lawman next door.

“A bath sounds like a great idea,” Alex said. Maybe she’d treat herself to a similar luxury tonight—a long hot bubble bath after Belle was asleep and the doors were securely locked. She still couldn’t believe her daughter had taken advantage of the few minutes Alex had been in the bathroom to bolt out the front door, but dogs were a powerful enticement to the little girl. Belle’s fifth birthday was next month; the only present she’d asked for was a puppy.

That’s all I need. Then I’d be a fugitive on the lam with my fugitive princess daughter and our fugitive dog. A bubble of hysteria rose in her throat.

“Mommy? Why are you laughing?”

“No reason, punkin. Come on, let’s get you clean again.”

She followed her daughter upstairs to the bathroom, where Belle’s hot pink towel hung alongside the more color-coordinated linens belonging to the home’s owners. It was surreal to be here, surrounded by someone else’s furniture, someone else’s keepsakes, someone else’s wedding picture hanging on the wall. Everything was foreign. Between the unfamiliar setting, the ugly used car she’d given Bryce cash to purchase, the new hair and the new name, Alex hardly knew who she was anymore.

I’m a mother. And I have a daughter to keep safe.

Everything else—including her nausea over lying to a law enforcement officer and the terror that she might get caught—was unimportant.