Beyond Control (Texas Trilogy #3)

She poured two glasses and handed one to Noah. Brittany handed the other to Cole, whose eyes turned hot and dark, the attraction between them clear.

They headed for the shade of the cow barn. While Noah chatted with Tory, and Carly and Ivy played with the big yellow cat, Cole and Brittany wandered deeper into the shadows of the barn.

Noah chuckled. “Maybe Cole has finally met a woman who won’t let him give her the brush-off.”

Tory followed his gaze to the couple talking softly, Cole laughing at something Brittany said. “Why would he want to do that?”

“He’s a man with no legs—or at least that’s the way Cole sees himself. In his mind, that makes him less than a man.”

“It’s obvious Brittany doesn’t see him that way,” Tory said.

“Britt’s been crushing on Cole since junior college,” Carly said. “And if you tell him that, Noah, you’re a dead man.”

Noah chuckled. “I won’t tell him. I just hope he’s smart enough to appreciate a beautiful woman like Britt. She’s pretty both inside and out.”

“Yes, she is,” Carly agreed.

They stood in the shade and finished their lemonade. Cole and Brittany joined them, and the men went back to work. Tory walked the women over to Carly’s flashy red convertible.

“I’m really glad we came,” Carly said through the window as they settled inside.

Tory smiled. “Me too. I hope you’ll come again soon.”

“We’ll be here for the barn raising,” Brittany said with a last glance at Cole.

“It’s going to be fun.” Carly cranked the powerful engine and the sports car rumbled to life. “I still can’t believe Linc bought me this. I usually drive one of the company pickups.”

“It’s gorgeous.”

“I thought he was crazy when I saw this parked out front Christmas morning, but I totally fell in love with it. I don’t get to drive it that often, but I figured today was the perfect day.”

Now that she was a mother, the car Tory would most love to have was a compact SUV. “It was great having you,” she said. “Come back anytime.”

“Thanks for the lemonade,” Brittany said. “And . . . umm . . . everything else.” A conspiratorial look passed between them and both of them grinned.

Tory waved as Ivy ran up beside her and the Stingray roared back down the dirt road toward the highway. She thought of the friends she had made.

It had been a very good day for her.

She just wished it had been a better day for Josh.

*

The service was almost over. Josh stood in a line of soldiers off to one side of the open grave next to Coy, a big, blond, hard-boiled former marine who lived up in Gainesville. A dozen other marines in DBs stood on the grass close by, some of them wounded vets Josh already knew, others soldiers and vets he’d met today.

Pete’s big extended Hispanic family filled rows of white plastic chairs set up beneath a canopy on the lawn, many of them openly crying, not afraid to show emotion. The vets were more stoic. They had learned to deal with loss a long time ago.

The area around the casket was filled with flowers, their sweet scent wafting through the air. The service overflowed with mourners. Pete was a popular guy in the community. An American flag draped over Pete’s coffin.

At the back of the crowd, a couple of men stood out from the rest, guys in dark suits with short-cropped hair. Like a lot of men who had served, Josh could smell law enforcement a mile away. Off-duty police? Detectives, maybe? Feds? He had a hunch it was some of each, couldn’t help wondering why the feds would be there.

So far Pete’s killer hadn’t been apprehended. Maybe they hoped he would show up today to revel in his accomplishment. Sadly, it wasn’t uncommon.

Josh steeled himself as a line of marines raised their rifles and fired three volleys, a final salute to a man who well deserved the honor. The sound recalled the nightmare he had suffered last night, waking covered in sweat to the imagined sound of explosions. He was glad he hadn’t spent the night with Tory.

The chaplain said a final prayer and in the distance, a lone bugle played taps. The flag was folded and presented to Pete’s wife, and the service was over.

As the mourners began to depart, Josh fell in among them. He was only a little surprised when one of the suits singled him out, this guy’s sport coat less expensive, a little rumpled. A local cop, he guessed.

“You’re Cain, right? Joshua Cain?” The man was midthirties, average height, nothing much different about him except his interest.

“That’s right.”

“You were a friend of Pete Saldana’s?” It sounded like a question but it wasn’t.

“Right again. Who are you?”

“Detective Craig Milburn, Fairfield PD. You got a minute?”

“If it’ll help you find the prick who murdered Pete, I’ve got all the time you need.”

They walked a little ways away, out of earshot of the dispersing crowd. Josh lifted his white cap to catch a little of the breeze, then settled it back on his head.

“Any reason you can think of that someone might want to murder your friend?” the detective asked.

Josh shook his head. “Everybody loved Pete. He was just one of those guys, you know? His nickname in the Corp was Amigo. He was a friend to everyone.”

“Yeah, that’s the picture we’ve been getting. You know he was killed execution-style? Forty-five-caliber slug to the back of the head. Looks like he walked out of the bar for a smoke and the guy came up behind him. A hit like that . . . it makes us think he was involved in some kind of criminal activity. Drugs, maybe. Could be a lot of different things.”

Josh started shaking his head. “Not Pete. He was a hero, straight shooter all the way. He had kids. He wanted them to look up to him, be proud of him. He was determined to be a good role model.”

“Good role models don’t usually end up getting their brains blown out.”

Josh’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like this guy or the direction this conversation was taking. And it certainly wasn’t the time or place. “You’re wrong. Do your job and prove it.” Turning, he walked away.

What the hell had happened to Pete? Had he pissed someone off badly enough to get himself killed? Everything inside Josh urged him to find out.

But he wasn’t in the marines anymore and Pete was no longer one of the men who fought beside him. The Josh he was now had responsibilities, a ranch to run, a young woman and her daughter to look after. He needed to let the police handle Pete’s murder.

From the cemetery, he and Coy and the other guys stopped by Pete’s house to pay their respects to Dolores and the rest of Pete’s family. From there they went to one of the local saloons to toast their friend and drown their grief.

Josh had a couple of beers and headed home. As a kid he had never really had a home, just a place to eat and sleep. He and his mom had lived in a fleabag apartment where his drunken dad dropped by once in a while to beat up on his wife and son.

Josh thought of the ranch he was building, thought of Tory and Ivy, and was surprised to discover how eager he was to get back.





Chapter Twenty-Two


Ham called the next morning, disturbing the big workday Josh had planned, work that needed to be done for the barn raising on Saturday.

According to his last conversation with Ham, there hadn’t been any new leads in the investigation. Lisa had left for New York, but had never recovered her memory.

Josh pressed the phone against his ear. “Hey, Ham, what’s up?”

“Could be nothing. Saw something on the news last night. Probably doesn’t have anything to do with what happened to Lisa Shane, but I figured you’d want to know.”

Unease crawled through him. “Tell me.”

“A girl went missing. Early twenties, waitress at a dive bar out in Carefree. She left around two A.M. after her shift was over and just disappeared. Apparently, it wasn’t unusual for her to go home with some guy from the bar so no one worried when her car was still in the lot the next day. When she didn’t show up for her next shift, I guess one of her friends got worried. No sign of her since the night she disappeared.”