Ranger Defender

“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, then pulled a curl back under control, tucking it behind her ear. “Slate, I...um...I can’t eat here.”

Sam and Nick’s was the third most expensive steak house in Dallas. She knew only because she listened to customers talk about the amazing places they’d been to—other than her chicken restaurant. She had agreed to come with him to dinner, but she wasn’t going to order anything. She couldn’t. The money in her wallet was bus fare to get her back and forth to court.

“Sorry, I should have asked if you’re a vegetarian or vegan. Look, there’s a place every fifty feet around here. I’m sure we can find one for non-meat eaters.” He grabbed her hand again.

The doorman stared at them.

“I’m not a vegetarian,” she whispered. Then she leaned in closer to him. “This place is too fancy for me.”

“Well, shoot. My mouth is salivating for a good sirloin.” He took a step away from the door, letting another couple pass through. “Wait. This is my idea. My treat. Can we eat here now?”

As much as she’d lowered her voice to avoid embarrassing looks, Slate spoke loudly, not seeming to catch a hint of her embarrassment—at all. He tugged gently on her hand, backing up to and through the open doorway.

The maître d’ recognized Slate as he turned around to face her. “We can seat you right away, Lieutenant Thompson.”

The couple that was before them had just been told it was a forty-five minute wait. Vivian looked at the ranger and he promptly winked at her. He also still had hold of her hand. Firm grip.

“They do have really good sirloin here.”

“So this really is one of your favorite places. They know you on sight.”

He bent close to her ear, his warm breath cascading over the sensitive lobe. “I sort of stopped a robbery one night. They won’t let me forget it.” He jerked his chin to a framed article hanging on the wall.

Well, how about that. He was a real-life hero. She got closer, along with the couple now behind them in line, and read all about the armed robber who hadn’t made it out the door because a Texas Ranger had been dining here.

“Thank God. That’s the first gun we’ve seen out in the open like this,” the woman in line said. “I didn’t know what to think. Do you wear your weapon when you’re on a date?”

“Actually, ma’am—” Slate’s accent turned super slow and drawn out “—I’m required to have it with me at all times. Unless I’ve been drinking, of course.”

The maître d’ returned and Slate’s heavily countrified accent disappeared as he spoke with Candace—he knew the young woman by name—and asked her how her son was getting along at his new daycare.

Seated at a table for two near the corner, Slate held out Vivian’s chair and seated himself against the wall. He waved off the menus.

“Mind if I order for you?”

“Not at all.” She might as well let him. If he was buying, she wouldn’t have to look at the prices and wonder how she’d ever repay him.

“Double the usual, Mikey. And how’s your kid brother? He going to pass chemistry?”

“Yes, sir, Senor Slate. We got him the tutor and it was free. Just like you think.” The waiter raised his brows and looked at her. “You want a drink, Miss? And house salad dressing like Senor Slate?”

“That would be great, and water’s fine. Thanks.”

“He’s a good kid,” Slate said as Mikey walked away. “When his father was killed, he had to quit high school to support his family, but he got his GED.”

She was almost speechless. Almost. “Are you for real? I mean, I thought there was some reason you were offering to help me. Some gimmick. Or something that you’re hiding from the police. But it seems like you genuinely care. Do you?”