Rescued by a Ranger

* * *

A RANGER. ALEX LEANED against the closed door for support, her palm pressed to her racing heart.

Plenty of women would experience an increase in their pulses at the sight of Zane’s green eyes and coal-black hair, but she was more concerned with his occupation than his chiseled cheekbones or broad shoulders. An honest-to-God, badge-wearing, gun-toting, sworn-to-uphold-the-law Texas freaking Ranger! Bryce had neglected to mention that.

Josie, without a shy bone in her body—or any concern for the expensive area rug that didn’t belong to them—plopped right down in the entryway and began stripping off her muddy leggings. Not Josie, Alex reminded herself. Belle. If she was going to keep from blowing their covers, the new names had to be all the time, even in her own thoughts. Otherwise, someone was going to address her as Alex in public and she was going to forget they meant her.

“Belle” happened to be the name of her daughter’s favorite Disney princess. She’d seen the movie for the first time last month and had watched the DVD approximately six hundred times since then. Making the switch to the new name had been easy enough, especially once Alex explained that Belle meant beautiful. Her little girl had liked that, even if she hadn’t understood why she had to commit to a single new name and couldn’t keep changing it every week.

Alex’s alias had been chosen for her. When Bryce had handed her the ID, she’d been so fixated on how odd she looked in the picture—her hair dyed espresso with auburn highlights and cropped in a sleek bob that hugged her jawline—that it had taken a moment for the name to even register. She’d told Bryce to surprise her, paranoid that anything she picked would subconsciously hold meaning for her and somehow provide a lead for an astute private investigator.

“Alexandra Hunt?” she’d read, trying to imagine herself as an Alexandra. It seemed too exotic and sophisticated for a single mom whose life consisted of more macaroni than martinis. Then again, being a fugitive was pretty exotic.

Bryce’s face had reddened. “She was a character from an old video game, one of the first that got me hooked on gaming. I had kind of a cyber crush on her.”

“You named me for a character?” she’d shrieked. “Bryce, anonymity is our goal here! Why not just send me out into the world calling me Lara Croft?”

He’d been unfazed by her anxiety. “Okay, first, there could be lots of civilians who coincidentally have that name. Secondly, no one’s going to make the connection. This wasn’t a bestselling game. The ideas were solid, but the packaging and distribution...” Then he’d gone on a tangent about software platforms and market shares.

“Mommy?” Belle stood naked, hands on her hips. Alex had been too lost in thought to realize her daughter hadn’t stopped with the muddy pants. “Since I got dirty outside, don’t you think I should take a bath? Do we have any more of those crayons?”

The sudden attention to hygiene was an obvious ploy to pull out her favorite tub toys and splash around, but Alex was all in favor of that plan. Though she knew she couldn’t keep her daughter housebound for the next five and a half months, she didn’t like the idea of Belle hanging out in the yard, within easy conversational distance of the lawman next door.

“A bath sounds like a great idea,” Alex said. Maybe she’d treat herself to a similar luxury tonight—a long hot bubble bath after Belle was asleep and the doors were securely locked. She still couldn’t believe her daughter had taken advantage of the few minutes Alex had been in the bathroom to bolt out the front door, but dogs were a powerful enticement to the little girl. Belle’s fifth birthday was next month; the only present she’d asked for was a puppy.

That’s all I need. Then I’d be a fugitive on the lam with my fugitive princess daughter and our fugitive dog. A bubble of hysteria rose in her throat.

“Mommy? Why are you laughing?”

“No reason, punkin. Come on, let’s get you clean again.”

She followed her daughter upstairs to the bathroom, where Belle’s hot pink towel hung alongside the more color-coordinated linens belonging to the home’s owners. It was surreal to be here, surrounded by someone else’s furniture, someone else’s keepsakes, someone else’s wedding picture hanging on the wall. Everything was foreign. Between the unfamiliar setting, the ugly used car she’d given Bryce cash to purchase, the new hair and the new name, Alex hardly knew who she was anymore.

I’m a mother. And I have a daughter to keep safe.

Everything else—including her nausea over lying to a law enforcement officer and the terror that she might get caught—was unimportant.

Chapter Three

As soon as Eden rounded the corner to the ladies’ room, Zane turned to Officer Ben Torres. “I’m sorry.” The words caught unpleasantly in Zane’s throat. Having to apologize for his daughter stung. He wished others could see the sunny, sweet girl he remembered. “We’ve been lousy company tonight.”

Ben, a Fredericksburg police officer, was recovering from an on-duty injury. When the two men had talked on Monday, Ben had mentioned that he had a doctor’s appointment on Wednesday and was scheduled to graduate from a wheelchair to crutches. Since he’d received the medical okay this morning, Zane had offered to buy him dinner in celebration. Ben had suggested the Torres family restaurant where he ate for free, assuring Zane it was the thought that counted. Zane hadn’t cared where they ate as long as it got him out of the house. The strained suppers at home, with Eden barely responding to questions about her new high school, were taking their toll. Especially after yesterday’s call from the guidance counselor that she was using her midsemester move as an excuse for not doing homework, claiming that she was still trying to catch up and that her workload was daunting. Zane knew his daughter, a former honors student, was capable of far more when she applied herself. He was angry, but he hadn’t meant to inflict their prickly relationship on innocent bystanders.

“Don’t worry about me,” Ben said. “I’m growing accustomed to lousy company. My brother’s been living with me since he and his wife separated. He was always a serious guy, but now he’s downright grim. Next to him, Eden’s full of bubbly cheer.”

“She used to be. There was a time...” Zane trailed off uncomfortably, not in the habit of discussing personal matters.

Recalling Eden’s childhood exuberance reminded him of the spirited girl who’d accosted him and Dolly over the weekend. Instinct told him Belle Hunt didn’t have a father in the immediate picture. For one thing, Kelsey had said she was leaving the care of her house to a lady, not a family. Had Alexandra Hunt needed a place to get back on her feet after her marriage fell apart? He silently wished her luck—single parenting wasn’t for wimps.

He ground his teeth. “Do you think all children of divorced parents turn bitter?”

“Divorce is tough, but you’re oversimplifying,” Ben chided. “Don’t you think it’s difficult for a teen to change schools midyear and make new friends no matter what her parents’ marital status? Besides, moodiness is normal for teenage girls. I grew up with a sister, remember?” He contorted his face into a comical mask of horror.

“Oh, please. Grace is one of the most hospitable people I’ve ever met!”

The three Torres siblings jointly owned The Twisted Jalapeño, but Chef Grace Torres was the one who ran the restaurant.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Sure, she’s the soul of hospitality now, as an adult trying to drum up repeat business for this place, but you should have seen her at fourteen! Maybe what Eden needs is a woman who can relate to her. Too bad your last date was back when dinosaurs were leaving those footprints in the Hondo Creek bed.”

“I haven’t noticed anyone special in your life, either,” Zane grumbled. Although he had noticed Ben sneaking surreptitious glances toward Amy Winthrop, the bartender. “Speaking of women, do you know anything about Alex Hunt? She’s living next to me temporarily, house-sitting for Kelsey and Dave Comer.”

“We should ask Grace.” Ben nodded at his crutches. “I haven’t exactly been man about town lately. Thank God the festival starts this weekend. I’m going stir-crazy.”

Frederick-Fest was a weeklong annual tradition that attracted tourists from all over the state and vendors from all over the country. Zane would be working some shifts to assist with security and crowd control.

“Will you be mobile enough to volunteer at the festival?” Zane asked.

“Not in my usual capacity, but I can work the first aid booth when other people need a lunch break. And Amy and I are going to sit at a table handing out promotional stuff for the restaurant.”

“Ah.” Zane smirked. “The lovely Amy.”

“Who’s Amy?”

Both men started as Eden slid back into her chair. Apparently she’d killed as much time as she possibly could in the restroom by braiding her blond hair and applying far too much makeup.

Zane did a double take. “Any particular reason you’re trying to make yourself look like a raccoon?”

Slashes of red appeared on her cheeks, and he regretted his words. He didn’t approve of the pound of cosmetics she’d slathered on her face, but he shouldn’t embarrass her in front of Ben. He was grateful when Ben answered her question, heading off any sarcastic retort.

“Amy is my sister’s roommate. She works here.” He gestured toward the bar and waved.

A pretty woman with purple-tinted hair waved back, making Zane ashamed of his knee-jerk reaction. Amy, with her tattoo and the line of earrings adorning her ear, was kindhearted and responsible. Maybe he shouldn’t let a couple of pink streaks in Eden’s hair and her enthusiastic use of eyeliner bother him so much.

“I was just telling your dad,” Ben continued, “that Amy and I will be working a shift at the festival. It starts this weekend.”

“Yeah, I heard some kids in class talking about a festival.” Eden sounded intrigued.

“We used to go every year as a family,” Zane said. “You remember the pony rides and all the food? I used to dance with you.”

“Ew.” Eden’s grimace made it clear she would not welcome a dance with her father at the polka pavilion.

Their waiter appeared, plates of hot entrées lined up his arm in such a seemingly precarious way that it was a miracle he hadn’t dropped everything on his walk from the kitchen.

“You’re going to love the food,” Ben promised. He’d expressed surprise when he’d learned this was Eden’s first visit to the Jalapeño, admonishing Zane that two and a half weeks was far too long a wait.

Ben’s words proved prophetic. After the first few bites, Eden wolfed down her food with the gusto and appetite Zane remembered from his own teenage years—when his mother used to tease that he couldn’t come grocery shopping with her because he’d eat half the purchases in the car before she could get them home. Between Eden’s enjoyment of the food and periodic questions about the festival, it was the most animated Zane had seen her since her arrival.

God bless the Torres family, he found himself thinking at the end of the evening. Chef Grace Torres had come to their table to say hi and make sure everything was delicious, and Eden had seemed a little starstruck to meet someone who was going to appear on a reality show.