LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter Six

      Half an hour passed. Then another ten minutes. Slate was stepping out of the truck to see what was keeping Vivian when her apartment door opened.

      It was one of those jaw-dropping moments that didn’t happen very often in his life. He’d kept it together and hadn’t cracked a smile in his Department of Public Safety days when a girl took off her top trying to get out of a speeding ticket. The man who thought his clothes were on fire and spit a bottle of water all over his uniform—he’d handled it all with a straight face and no disgust.

      But seeing Vivian Watts step onto the wet sidewalk in a blue suit made him take a second look. And maybe a third. Her wild dark brown hair was neatly tucked at the back of her head. He noticed because he ran to her side of the truck and grabbed the umbrella she’d brought with her.

      Helping her onto the front seat, he politely waited for her to put down a towel. It gave him plenty of time to admire the line of her calf and the height of the matching blue heels. Not to mention a close-up view of the shapely behind in her tight-fitting skirt.

      The wolf in him came out. His lips were all puckered to let loose a howling whistle when he caught himself and kind of sucked air through his teeth. She noticed. Yep, she smiled, knowing what was blowing through his mind.

      He ran to his side of the truck, chucking the umbrella in the back seat. His tie had been off since he’d left for lunch, but the way she was dressed almost made him feel guilty enough to put it back on.

      Almost.

      “I’m assuming we need to go to your place for you to get dry clothes. I’m fine with that by the way.”

      “I live west of the metroplex on a ranch. It’s sort of out of the way.”

      “So the cowboy thing isn’t a thing? It’s genuine?”

      “That’d be me.”

      “You don’t mind being wet?”

      “Well, I’ve been worse. Beer once. Now that’s sticky when it dries.” Slate had already looked up the address of the attorney in Uptown.

      “As much as I’d like to hear about you covered in beer... I think you take a left here.”

      “Not around this time of day. It really is a funny story.”

      “I gather.”

      Slate tapped on the radio, immediately turning it down. “You don’t have to worry. I looked at directions and traffic before you got in the truck.”

      “Do you think we should talk about what happens now? How do we get the report if Victor’s attorney didn’t keep the copy I gave him? Are you sure you know how to get to his office? I think you missed another turn.”

      Lots of questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. “Let’s just take it one thing at a time. First step is to get there and ask for a copy of the study. We compare. We might get lucky.”

      “Lucky? How long have you been a ranger?”

      “Almost two years. I was fortunate to be stationed here in Garland. That’s close enough to help out my family. How about you? What did you do before you came to Dallas or have you been here awhile?”

      “I studied international business and had an internship at one of the top companies in Miami.”

      “You gave all that up to come help your brother.”

      “That didn’t sound like a question.”

      Slate stated fact. He admired her for it. She didn’t know there was a personal financial report in the file. One reflecting she and her brother were broke. He’d read her statement to the police, an interview that confirmed most of the information obtained through the VA.

      “Are you going to tell Victor’s attorney that you’re reopening his case?”

      “One step at a time, remember?” Slate didn’t have permission to do anything. Unfortunately, the attorney would know that. “Why don’t you tell me about your brother?”

      “As in...?”

      “What problem was he having? Something like he couldn’t sleep, right?”

      “Night terrors. He’s had them since returning from the Middle East. He’s never really talked to me about his time in the army. The most common question from you guys is do I think he’s capable of killing someone.” She paused, taking a look out the window. “The answer is I don’t know. I haven’t spent a lot of time with him after he left the military. He came to Dallas because of Dr. Roberts and her study. He wanted to be a part of it and live a normal life.”

      “Look, Vivian.” He was about to cover her hand but he redirected his hand to the steering wheel. “I’m on your side. Honestly, I don’t know if they’ll reopen the investigation. I’m pretty sure the prosecutor will fight it since he thinks his case is pretty solid.”

      “Then what are we doing?”

      The windshield wipers banged out a rhythm, adding a slow swish as the rain turned to a sprinkle. “Not giving up.”

      “I never did.”

      He turned to face her, seat belt stretched tight across his chest. “If your brother is truly innocent...neither will I.”

      Where the hell had that come from? That whole fighting-for-justice thought earlier? Maybe. More than likely. It couldn’t have anything to do with the wolf whistle he’d swallowed along with the urgent need to puff up his chest and rescue the fair maiden. Naw...nothing like that.

      Or exactly that.

      He’d wanted to help Vivian and her brother since meeting her in that ridiculous waitress outfit. The suit, however, fit her to perfection. It was much sexier than the skimpy shorts. Even though he’d enjoyed looking at her legs.

      Someone behind him honked a horn. The light was green and he continued to the law office. He parked and Vivian didn’t open her door.

      “Look, Slate. As much as I appreciate your promise, I’m not holding you to it. You seem like a nice guy. I have no idea why this is happening to my brother, but it’s not your responsibility.”

      “Let’s talk to your lawyer and compare the reports. See what he thinks is going on. Throw around some ideas. Then maybe we can grab dinner and talk.”

      * * *

      VIVIAN WAS RELUCTANT to walk down the street with Slate to one of his favorite restaurants. The visit with Victor’s lawyer had been a bust. Even her favorite suit couldn’t make her feel better about the cavalier attitude he’d shown by not keeping the appointment.

      It began to sprinkle again. Slate grabbed her hand and hurried through the dinner crowd on Maple Avenue and crossed the street.

      “Here we go. I’m starved.” He released her hand and shot both of his through his hair, slicking the longer portion on top straight back like he had in her apartment.

      “You just ate three hours ago.” She swiped droplets of water from her sleeves,

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