His Texas Touch

“I hope not,” Sam said. “Aside from yes, that would be my second-favorite answer from you.”

“Keep dreaming. What do you want?” She rolled her eyes, attempting to ward off her reaction to the sound of his deep laughter rumbling across the landline. “What is it, Sam?” she insisted.

“Just calling to see if you want me to send a car to the Review after work.”

“Ah…” Avra stood from the settee. “Is this about Setha’s shower? The particulars of which you didn’t feel the need to share with me?”

Again, Sam chuckled. “Sorry ’bout that. Must’ve slipped my mind.”

“Humph. I can see how easily that could happen.”

Sam’s laughter was a bit more resonant in response to her dig. “Anyway, the ranch is pretty far out. I figured you might be too worn-out to make the drive after a full day.”

“Gee, Sam, I must say you continue to amaze me. I wouldn’t have thought you capable enough to come up with such a thoughtful plan.”

“I told you yesterday that I’m working to change your opinion of me.”

She’d been doing such a fine job of maintaining her stony demeanor, Avra thought. She coughed in reply to his mention of his office visit and a flashback to the kiss filled her mind for the second time that morning.

“I’ll be fine, Sam. I’ll drive my own car.”

“Mmm…in case you need to make an escape.”

“Something like that.”

“I would never force you, Av,” he said once silence held the line for a lengthy span.

She refused to ask whether he was referring to the ride he’d offered.

“So I guess that means you won’t force me on this trip to Kemah, right?”

“I’m not totally rehabilitated yet.” Laughter carried on his gravelly, deep words. “You can’t expect me to get rid of all my bad habits just like that.”

“Well, then here’s your chance to make progress.”

“I’m very stubborn, too.” He made a tsking sound over the phone. “Another bad habit to work on. Sorry, Av.”

“Such a jackass,” she hissed below her breath. “I’ll get my own ride.” She slammed the phone down on his laughter.

Not surprising, the ringing resumed again.

“Damn you,” she greeted.

Khouri burst into laughter then. “Hell, girl, I swear it’s too early in the morning even for me to be on your bad side.”

“Sorry, Khou…” she groaned, knocking a fist to her forehead when she heard her brother’s voice. “Just had a bad call.”

“So Dad got to you, too, huh?”

“No…what’s up?”

“I was calling to ask if you knew what this meeting was for.”

“Meeting? Today?”

“Ten a.m. sharp.”

“Damn.” The wall clock above her fireplace read 9:10 a.m. “Well…maybe it’s somethin’ good,” she hurriedly reasoned while collecting files and shoving them into her white leather valise. “How’d he sound when he called you?”

“Pissed. I’m guessing this ain’t one of those pats-on-the-back meetings.”

Avra stilled, thinking back to the tense conversation with her father the day before. “Guess we’ll find out soon,” she said, deciding against sharing the father-daughter discussion with her brother.

“See you there, all right?”

“Yeah.” She waited for Khouri to break the connection first. “Damn,” she muttered.

* * *

“Thanks for comin out, B. I know it was short notice.” Sam was shaking hands with Chief of Detectives Bradley Crest when the man arrived in his office at Machine Melendez.

“Not a problem.” Brad clapped Sam’s shoulder when they were done shaking hands. “I’ve been meaning to come out or call to check on Mr. Dan. He didn’t look too good when I left that day.” Brad’s blue eyes harbored a probing intensity as he removed his hat.

“It’s not easy for him to hear these murders are targeting his employees.” Sam tapped his index knuckle against the corner of his mouth as he thought of his father. “Man’s not as young as he used to be.” Something about the muttered acknowledgment struck a chord with Sam. Tugging on the cuffs of the shirt hanging outside his trousers, he went over to lean against his desk.

“Everything all right, Sam?” Brad worried the brim of his hat.

“Any new developments in this thing, Brad? Specifically, have y’all found any connections between Martino Viejo and the other victims?”

Brad bowed his head. He knew what Sam was really asking. “So far no links between Viejo and the address the others shared.”

Samson didn’t mind letting his relief show. He drew both hands through his dark straight hair and let out a sigh.

“The guy—Viejo—sure accomplished a lot in a short span of time.”

“Yeah,” Sam murmured with a grunt meant to be a laugh. “And I hadn’t even heard of him till he died.”

“From what we’ve gathered so far, he kept a pretty low profile but made a respected name for himself dealing with the public on behalf of MM.”

“Guess that explains why dad’s so upset over his death.”

“Makes sense.” Brad settled his lean, wiry frame into a chair. “Losin’ an employee that valuable…gotta hurt.”

Sam understood Brad’s point. For some reason he just didn’t buy it. He chose to keep that part of his opinion to himself.

“You still don’t have a lead into who killed him?” Sam asked instead.

It was Brad’s turn to grunt a humorless laugh. “All we know is who didn’t kill him. Whoever it was cleaned up very well behind himself.”