To Love And Protect

Hector measured him with a look. “All right. See that you don’t or I’ll have to give you trouble. And don’t think I can’t.”

“Understood.”

“Good.”

As Hector shifted out of the booth, angry words came from Pimental, who was now standing at the cash register with Sukie.

Ben leaned sideways to see what was going on.

“I got this,” Hector said and started toward Pimental and Corie, who stood behind the counter.

Ben wandered over anyway. Corie was handing back Pimental’s credit card. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It was declined. Do you want to use another one?”

Pimental pushed it back at her. “I said, run it again.”

“And I said,” she replied, “I ran it twice. It was declined. Twice.”

“That’s impossible.”

She turned the credit card processing terminal toward him. The word DECLINED was clearly visible on the small screen. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll just bet you are,” Pimental said darkly.

Corie smiled blandly. “Is it possible your wife overdrew it and neglected to tell you?”

Ben had to admire her complete disregard for discretion considering the man was here with another woman. Pimental’s face flushed dark red.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Sukie stepped between Pimental and the counter and handed Corie several bills, hitting her with a mildly disapproving glance for the reference to Mrs. Pimental. “I’m sure it’s a mistake, but I’ll just pay until it’s sorted out.”

Corie made change and handed it to Sukie. Sukie gave her back a five-dollar tip. She smiled at Hector. “It was a lovely dinner, Hector. Good night. Come on, Bobby.” She looped her arm in Pimental’s and led him away.

He held Sukie back long enough to snatch the money out of Corie’s hand. “Personal comments are poor service,” he accused. “You don’t deserve a tip.”

As his customers walked out the door, Hector looked reluctantly amused. “Not nice to mention Mrs. Pimental.”

Corie conceded that with a nod. “I know. But it’s not like he tries to hide his infidelity or that Sukie doesn’t know she exists.”

“True. But you’re out five bucks.”

She grinned. “It was worth it.”

He reached into the till to pull out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to her. “Yes, it was. I enjoyed it, too. Let’s lock up.”

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_d399de73-ff23-500c-bfee-717b8c9ba666)

CORIE AND POLLY filled the dishwasher while Ben helped Hector turn chairs upside down on the tables to mop the floor. Hector told him how he’d gotten into the business, shown him pictures of his three boys and three girls and his wife, and said his daughters loved Corie because she helped them update their clothes to look new and fashionable. “When you’re a girl in school, that’s important,” he said. “And Corie has this gift with design.”

Ben had taken it all in. This flair for fashion was something he hadn’t known about her. He wondered if Jack did.

In the car on the way home he asked her about it.

“I’ve always perked up my clothes by adding trim or parts of other pieces.”

“Hector said his girls love what you do.”

She smiled at that. “They’re appreciative because they don’t have a lot of money and there’s a certain satisfaction in dressing up something to make it look new again. Or even better.”

“Jack never mentioned you designed clothing.”

She shrugged. “It never came up. A couple of years ago I went to New York and got a job with a designer just starting out. I got good, practical experience, but he had a bad season and ran out of capital. My style wasn’t thrilling to more traditional designers, so when I couldn’t find another job in the field, I thought rather than waitress in New York, where living was so expensive, I may as well come home and work here so I can save to go back, and I could help Teresa while I was at it.”

Ben pulled up in front of her house. “I hope you get to work in design again,” he said sincerely. He’d like knowing she was happily settled somewhere because it would make Jack happy. “Meanwhile,” he went on in the sudden quiet, “will you make me a cup of coffee and tell me the truth about the jewelry?”

She let out an exaggerated breath. “Come on in.”

In the dim light over the doorway he saw that the run-down little white house with red trim had probably once been a cozy home but was now badly in need of paint and a few homey touches. There was a little bit of lawn in front that someone was trying to maintain, but it was crowding out the short walkway and weeds were growing through the simple picket fence that surrounded it.

A look of weariness had suddenly replaced the anger he’d grown used to seeing in Corie’s eyes, and she looked as though she belonged in this sad little place.

Ben steeled himself against softness. Corie was pretty and fascinatingly fearless, but if she did have the jewels, she could be a danger to Jack and his brother had been through enough. Though she’d originally stolen the jewelry to sell it and buy the house and property Teresa rented to free her from the constant threat of eviction, the act was illegal.

Jack was on his honeymoon in the California wine country right now, and his parents were partying with his bride’s family in Branson, Missouri. It was up to Ben to make sure the film of Corie’s appearance on the Tyree property—and what would look like his, Jack’s and Sarah’s complicity in the jewel theft—somehow disappeared. He only hoped he wasn’t too late.

He followed her inside the small living room. He and Jack and Sarah had spent the night on this floor the last time he was here. They’d felt it necessary to stay close until they had Corie safely on the plane with them, back to Oregon. Jack had insisted she go home with them to meet their family. After the theft and Jack’s sudden appearance in her life, she’d been emotional and trying hard to keep her distance. Afraid she’d run off, Jack, Ben and Sarah had stayed the night with Corie.

He remembered the set of natural wicker furniture more appropriate to a patio than a living room; it looked feminine and had probably been more affordable than upholstered pieces. The cushions were a blue-and-white pattern, and mismatched coffee table and end tables and an old rocker made up the rest of the furnishings. A few floral prints on the walls brightened the space.

She dropped her purse on the sofa. “I’ll get that coffee. Make yourself comfortable.”

He sat on the rocker and looked out the window behind the wicker sofa at the dark, quiet street. Most of the homes in the neighborhood were a lot like hers, some a little nicer, some a lot less cared for. He knew this part of Texas was populated with low-income workers and probably a few illegals looking for a better life, with family on both sides of the border.

That was probably why some members of the town government of Querida managed to operate the way they did, perpetrating crimes they continued to get away with. Everyone had secrets. No one wanted to talk.

He thought if he could deal with being here, he might be able to do something about it. But this part of Texas was dusty and hot, and he missed the rivers and forests of home. His plan was to quit the force and open an investigative services business in Beggar’s Bay. He’d even half convinced Grady Nelson, his partner on the force, to join him part-time until he got the business under way.

Corie returned with a steaming mug and placed it on a small table beside him.

“Thank you,” he said as she went to sit on the sofa. She pulled out the pins and rubber band that held her hair up for work and made a sound of relief when it fell free in a rippled sheet. She massaged her scalp with her fingertips.

“How come you don’t wilt in the heat?” he asked. “You wrestled a tree, worked a busy shift and did verbal battle with Pimental.” He sipped the coffee then rested the mug on one knee. “And you still have the energy to make my life difficult.”

She met his grin with her own. “I’m part cactus. I almost froze to death in Beggar’s Bay. Fortunately, Sarah lent me a sweater she’d borrowed from your mom when she moved in with you and Jack after the fire in her apartment.”

He nodded. “The red one.”

She seemed surprised that he remembered the color. He’d noticed it because the red had been dramatic with her dark features.

“About the jewelry...” he said, impatient with himself for letting her see that he’d been aware of her. He didn’t trust her but he’d have to be unconscious not to notice that she was beautiful. And a different woman when she was around those children. He took another sip of coffee. “Where is the jewelry?”