Reaching to the top shelf of her closet, she chose the bright red stiletto heels. They never failed to garner the instant attention of men high on booze, drugs and the stench of overripe sex.
Struck by a burst of vertigo, Faith held on to the bedpost until the dizziness passed. Then she tucked a lipstick, her car keys and some mad money into the small sequined handbag that already held her licensed pistol.
Stopping off in the kitchen, she poured two fingers of cheap whiskey into a glass. She swished the amber liquid around in her mouth, gargled and then spit it down the drain. Holding the glass over the sink, she ran one finger around the edges to collect the remaining liquor. She dotted it at her pulse points like expensive perfume.
Her muscles clenched. Her lungs clogged. She took a deep breath and walked out the door, carefully locking it behind her.
Six months of going unofficially undercover into the seediest areas of Dallas. Six months of questioning every drug addict and pervert that might have come in contact with Cornell, based on nothing but the one shrapnel of evidence the police had provided her.
Six months of crying herself to sleep when she came home as lost, confused and desperate as before.
God, please let tonight be different.
* * *
“ANOTHER BACKSTREET HOMICIDE, another trip to see Georgio. I’m beginning to think he gives a discount to killers. A lap dance from one of his girls when a body shows up at the morgue without identification.”
“And the victims get younger and younger.” Travis Dalton followed his partner, Reno, as they walked through a side door of the sleaziest strip joint in the most dangerous part of Dallas. Georgio reigned as king here, providing the local sex and drug addicts with everything they needed to feed their cravings.
Yet the rotten bastard always came out on top. His rule of threats and intimidation eliminated any chance of getting one of his patrons to testify against him. Not that they would have had a shred of credibility if they had.
A rap song blared from the sound system as a couple of seminude women with surgery-enhanced butts and breasts made love to skinny poles. Two others gyrated around the rim of the stage, collecting bills in their G-strings.
A familiar waitress whose name Travis couldn’t remember sashayed up to him. “Business or pleasure, copper boy?”
“What do you think?”
“Business, but a girl can hope. Are you looking for Georgio?”
“For starters.”
“Is it about that boy who got shot up in Oak Cliff last night?”
Now she had Travis’s full attention. “What do you know about that?”
“Nothing, I just figured that’s what brought you here.”
Travis had a hunch she knew more than she was admitting. He was about to question her further when he noticed a woman at the bar trying to peel a man’s grip from her right wrist.
“Let go of me,” she said, her voice rising above the din.
The man held tight while his free hand groped her breast. “I just want to be friends.”
“You’re hurting me.”
Travis stormed to the bar. “You heard the woman. Move on, buddy.”
“Why don’t you mind your own business?”
“I am.” He pulled the ID from the breast pocket of his blue pullover. “Dallas Police. Back off or I snap a nice metal bracelet on your wrist and haul you down to central lockup.”
A thin stream of spittle made its way down the man’s whiskered chin as his hands fell to his sides. Wiping it away with his shirtsleeve, he slid off the barstool and stumbled backward.
“She’s the one you should be arresting. She came on to me,” he slurred.
Travis studied the woman and decided the drunk could be right. She was flaunting the trappings of a hooker, right down to a sexy pair of heels that made her shapely legs appear a mile long.
But one look into her haunted eyes and Travis doubted she was looking to make a fast buck on her back. She had a delicate, fragile quality about her that suggested she’d be more at home in a convent than here shoving off drunks. Even the exaggerated makeup couldn’t hide her innocence.
If he had to guess, he’d say she was here trying to get even with some jerk who had cheated on her. That didn’t make it any less dangerous for her to be in this hellhole.
“Party’s over, lady. I’m calling for a squad car to take you home.”
“I have a car.”
“Get behind the wheel and I’ll have to arrest you for driving while intoxicated.”
“I’m not drunk.”
He couldn’t argue that point. She smelled like a distillery, but she wasn’t slurring her words and her eyes were clear, her pupils normal.
“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing or who you’re trying to get even with, but if you hang around here, you’re going to run into more trouble than you can handle.”
“I can take care of myself.” She turned and started to walk away.
Travis moved quicker, setting himself in her path without realizing why he was bothering.
He looked around for Reno, but his partner wasn’t in sight. He was probably already questioning Georgio, and Travis should be with him.
“Look, lady. You’re in over your head here. I’ve got some urgent business, but sit tight for a few minutes and I’ll be back to walk you to your car. In the meantime, don’t make friends with any more perverts. That’s an order.”
She shrugged and nodded.
He stalked off to find Reno. He spotted him and Georgio a minute later near the door to the suite of private offices. When he looked back, the woman was gone.
Just as well, he told himself, especially if she’d gone home. He didn’t need any more problems tonight. But even after he reached Reno and jumped into the murderous situation at hand, he couldn’t fully shake her from his mind.
Whatever had brought her slumming could get her killed.
Chapter One
Four months later
Travis adjusted the leather-and-turquoise bolo tie, a close match to the one his brother was wearing with his Western-style tux. The irony of seeing his formerly Armani-faithful attorney brother dressed like this made it hard for Travis not to laugh.
“I never thought I’d see the day you got hitched to a cowgirl.”
“I never thought I’d see the day you showed up at the Dry Gulch Ranch again,” Leif answered.
“Couldn’t miss the wedding of my favorite brother.”
“Your only brother.”
“Yeah, probably a good thing you don’t have competition now that you’re building a house here on the ranch. On the bright side, I do like that I get to wear my cowboy boots with this rented monkey suit.”
Travis rocked back on the heels of his new boots, bought for the conspicuous occasion of Leif’s wedding to Joni Griffin. He’d never seen his brother happier. Not only was he so in love that he beamed when he looked at his veterinarian bride, but his daughter, Effie, would be living with him for her last two years of high school.
The Dry Gulch Ranch was spiffed up for the ceremony and reception. Lights were strung through the branches of giant oaks and stringy sycamores. A white tent had been set up with chairs, leaving a makeshift