LITMIR.BIZ

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any of mine.”

      “Your will had rigid stipulations,” Carolina said. “But the facts aren’t in. There’s no proof Jade had anything to do with the murder. She might be frightened and on the run or...” Carolina hesitated.

      “Or in the hands of the real killer or worse,” R.J. finished the sentence for her.

      “Do you know how to get in touch with Jade’s mother?” Carolina asked.

      “Not a clue. Woman’s last name changes more often than Texas weather. But I figure Travis can find out what this is all about. It pays sometimes to have a son who’s a Dallas homicide detective.”

      Sure as shootin’, Jade wouldn’t be calling R.J. or running to him for help.

      So it was up to him to find her. He would, even if it meant hiring every private detective in New York. He just prayed it wouldn’t be too late.

       Chapter Three

      Booker Knox woke alone in a hotel bed that felt as if he’d landed on a fluffy cloud. After a year of back-to-back special missions as a Navy SEAL in the Middle East, he’d almost forgotten what a real bed felt like.

      Still half-asleep and loving the feeling, he staggered to the bathroom in the nude, took a leak and then washed his face and hands. The man who stared back at him from the mirror looked years older than Booker felt and definitely needed a shave.

      But that could wait until later, he decided, after he soaked up some more luxury in the good old US of A. He grabbed the room-service menu on his way back to bed. What he needed now was coffee, hot, black and strong.

      He ordered a large pot of brew, steak, two eggs over easy and biscuits with gravy. “Double gravy,” he told the operator. “And grits if you have them.” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had grits. Not that the California version would be like what his grandma used to make.

      “A side of grits. Will there be anything else for you?”

      “That should do it for now.”

      “It should be in your room in about thirty minutes.”

      “That will work.” Give him plenty of time to decide what he wanted to do with his first full day back in the States. First on the list was slip into a pair of clean jeans so that he didn’t flash the room-service attendant.

      Now that he thought about it, tugging on his jeans might be the only thing he did today. He’d turn on the TV and catch some movies on the tube. Surely something worth watching had been released over the past year.

      All he asked for was story lines with nothing to do with wars or death or blowing up buildings. Which left him with chick flicks. He could handle that if the starlets were hot.

      Which would no doubt make him even hungrier for a real live woman. Good-looking. Fun-loving. Temporary.

      In thirty days, he’d be back on the job and he wasn’t about to try to manage a relationship and his SEAL duties. A lot of men could, but it wasn’t for him.

      He stood, walked over to the window, opened the curtains and looked out on the California coastline. A more gorgeous view would be hard to find. He might just spend his whole leave here. Generally he’d have taken a few days to slide back into normalcy and then gone to visit his parents.

      But that was when home would have felt like home. It wouldn’t now that his mother had died. He and his father had never gotten along particularly well. Things would be even more strained between them without his mother’s warmth and enthusiasm for life to smooth the tension.

      And now his sister Sylvie was dead, as well. Killed on the streets of Houston, Texas, when she’d been mistaken for her twin sister, Brit Garner Dalton.

      The sister Booker had never heard of until she’d called him with the bad news. Talk about family skeletons shaking out of the closet. Who knew his mother had hidden such a scandalous past?

      He had talked to Brit a few times since then. Short conversations since she was busy raising Sylvie’s baby girl, Kimmie. Brit seemed nice enough and she’d invited him more than once to visit her on the ranch that belonged to her new husband’s father.

      Booker wasn’t much in the mood for taking on a new family, but he would like to meet his niece. He figured he kind of owed that to his mother and his dead half sister. Kimmie was seven months old now. He had no idea what a seven-month-old was like.

      He hated to admit it, but the even bigger draw might be the Dry Gulch Ranch, just outside Dallas. Weather should be nice there in May. Perfect for climbing into a saddle. It was at least five years since he’d ridden. He’d missed it.

      Missed his grandparents and the Oklahoma ranch that had been barely big enough to keep up a few head of cattle and a couple of horses. Booker had spent the best summers of his life on that ranch.

      According to Brit, the Dry Gulch had over five hundred head of cattle grazing in the pastures and two horse barns.

      Riding an open range on a spirited filly might be exactly the kind of R & R he needed. Besides, if he hated it there or found the whole experience of forging new family ties too awkward, all he had to do was ride off into the sunset like an old-time cowboy.

      He should probably call first, let Brit know he was taking her up on her invitation. On the other hand, he might change his mind about visiting before he got there, so better just to surprise her. He’d call after breakfast and book a flight for tomorrow or the next day—if he could find one that didn’t cost more than his budget would stretch.

      He picked up the remote, turned on the TV and then pulled on his jeans. He surfed until he landed on a cable news channel. A gorgeous blonde was smiling at him while she described a developing murder case—the victim a famous jewelry designer in the United States from Spain.

      They flashed a picture of a woman they referred to as a person of interest. Wow. Talk about hot. The Spanish dude should have known to avoid her. A woman that sexy was always trouble.

      Exactly the kind of woman he was not looking for and not likely to find on the Dry Gulch Ranch.

      Jade Dalton. The same last name as Brit now that she’d married Kimmie’s daddy, Cannon. Could there possibly be a connection?

      Naw. No way. There had to be thousands of Daltons in the country.

      He went back to surfing channels and thinking about the Dry Gulch Ranch. The more he thought about it, the better it sounded.

      Back in the saddle, wind in his face, a fishing pole in his hand. And not even a hint of danger in the air.

       Chapter Four

      Jade forced herself from the throes of the terrifying nightmare and opened her eyes. The room was shadowed. Unfamiliar. Cluttered. Pungent odors of stale cigarette smoke, beer and spicy food made her stomach roll.

      The nightmare returned in full force. The vertigo. The loud voices. The gun. Needles poked into her arm.

      For a second she thought she might be dead. But death didn’t include pain and she had a killer headache along with a punishing thirst and need to rinse a sickening metallic taste from her mouth.

      Kicking off the dingy sheet, she shuddered as she slid her feet to the floor. Her feet were bare, but she was still wearing the red cocktail dress she’d worn last night. One strap was broken. Dried blood painted a weird-shaped stain down the front of it. Apparently the blood wasn’t hers, but it likely attributed to the disgusting odor.

      She looked up as a door creaked open.

      “Good. You’re awake. Maybe now you’ll start talking sense.”

      She turned and stared into the face of Reggie Lassiter. Relief surged through her. If she was with Reggie, she must be safe.

      She

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