Ben gathered her stiff form close, letting her cry. He hadn’t had much opportunity to comfort grieving women. Doing so felt awkward and yet, tenderness rose to the surface, making him tighten his arms around her. She felt so delicate and defenseless in his arms.
The white bandage covering her biceps glowed like a neon sign. A few more inches and the bullet could have lodged in her heart. She’d come close to dying tonight.
Just like her father. Grief battled to be loosened. He held it in check. This was not the time to give vent to his emotions. He had to stay focused. Greg would have counted on Ben to find his murderer. As well as protect Corinna. Failure at either task was not an option, which only served to increase the pressure building in Ben’s chest.
Corinna clutched the front of his chambray shirt. A haunted look darkened her eyes. “You have to find the person who did this.”
“I will,” he vowed as he pulled her back to his chest.
No matter what it took, he would bring down Captain Pike’s murderer. For Corinna. For all of them.
TWO
Ben’s strong arms encircled Corinna, buffeting her from the raging nightmare going on around her as uniformed San Antonio police officers filled her house. She shifted on the couch. Biting pain from the wound on her arm zinged through her. Never in a million years would she have thought she’d be in this position.
Acutely aware of Ben’s closeness, she allowed him to hold her, needing his strength. At the moment, she had none of her own.
His heart pounded like thunder in her ears through his shirt, drowning out the crackle of radios and dismay of law enforcement officers as they discovered one of their own had been murdered. The cotton fabric of Ben’s shirt, so soft against her cheek, smelled freshly laundered. She focused on the little things. That’s all she could do right now.
She squeezed her eyes tight.
Why couldn’t this be a nightmare? Why couldn’t she open her eyes and find herself back at the dance studio? Or better yet, back to this morning when she’d kissed her father goodbye for the day, not realizing it would be the last time she’d ever see him alive.
A sob of pain and grief lodged in her throat. Tears leaked from her closed eyes. She fought to hold them back. She was usually so good at keeping her emotions under control.
But the image of her father lying in a pool of his own blood blazed in her head, forever imprinted in her mind. She shuddered. Ben’s hands smoothed over her back in a calming rhythm. He would find whoever had done this. Her father had trusted Ben.
Truth be told, so did she, even if she did harbor anger and resentment toward Ben for invading their lives and taking her father’s attention away from her. Every time they went off to do “guy” things, Corinna had seethed inside and longed to be included. She never was. They had locked her out of that world. Though as she’d grown older she’d resigned herself to being excluded, she still blamed the man her father had taken under his wing. The son he’d never had.
“Ben, we need you in here,” said a deep voice that Corinna recognized as Ranger Marvel Jones. He was a tall African-American man with a shaved head.
She felt Ben nod.
“In a minute,” Ben replied. “Can you ask Gisella to come here?”
“Sure thing,” Marvel said.
Ben tried to ease Corinna out of his arms. She resisted, unwilling to face reality on her own. Here, within Ben’s embrace, she felt safe, felt protected from the grief waiting to overwhelm her.
It didn’t make sense. He was the last person in the world she should be looking to for solace. Old wounds full of antagonism stirred, but the overpowering anguish wouldn’t let anything else in.
“Corinna, honey, I need to talk to you. Please, look at me,” Ben said, his voice soft and coaxing.
She shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered, not wanting to break the protective barrier of isolation that kept reality at bay. She squeezed her grip on his shirt, pulling herself tighter against his chest.
With gentle yet firm pressure he pushed her away and lifted her chin with the tips of his fingers. “Open your eyes.”
Reluctantly, she did as he asked. For a moment her eyes wouldn’t focus, but then his familiar and handsome face came into view.
She stared at him dispassionately and took in his features, the strong jaw, lean cheekbones, straight nose. She liked the way his warm brown, close-cropped hair spiked up in front, giving him a roguish appeal. His dark brown eyebrows slashed over hazel eyes.
Eyes so full of the same pain and grief she felt.
Fresh tears burned the back of her eyes. Tears for this man whom her father had loved like a son. Ben was grieving, too.
From the moment her father had brought him home when he was a teenager, he’d been her rival for her father’s attention. He’d won.
Ben had become the son her father had wanted. The one he’d confided in, the one he took to his favorite sports events, the one who’d been groomed to follow in her father’s footsteps.
Oh, she’d never doubted her father’s love for her. He’d always attend her recitals, made a big deal of her birthdays and lavished her with gifts at Christmas, but it wasn’t the same as wanting to be with her.
An intense pain, a familiar ache of losing a parent—losing the person who knew, supported and loved you no matter what—lanced through her. Her chest tightened. Daddy. She would give up everything to have him back with her even for just a moment so she could tell him she loved him. But that would never happen.
Neither she nor Ben had had a chance to say goodbye.
“You got here before the police,” Corinna said aloud, realizing that several Rangers had arrived before she’d even heard the sirens.
He nodded. “Yes. The captain sent out a message to come here.”
Her pulse spiked. “He needed you.”
Guilt flashed across his face. “Yes. If only I’d been closer, arrived sooner, maybe I could have prevented his murder.”
She wanted to blame him. To shout that yes, he should have been here to stop this from happening, but deep inside she knew that wasn’t fair. “If you had been here, you probably would have been shot as well.” She swallowed back the bile that rose. “If I had come home any earlier…” Her voice trailed off as the thought played itself out in her head. If she’d arrived any earlier, she, too, could very well be dead right now, not just injured.
Ben took in a sharp breath. “Thankfully, you didn’t.” He eased apart from her and stood. “I need to talk with Gisella for a moment.”
Her gaze slid to the female Ranger standing in the doorway, patiently awaiting Ben. Pallor underscored her olive skin and her dark eyes were sad. Dressed in worn blue jeans, soft leather boots and a Western-cut pale blue blouse, she didn’t look like a Ranger. Corinna wondered fleetingly what she did when not on duty.
“I’ll be right back,” Ben said and walked away.
Wrapping her arms around her middle, Corinna kept her gaze trained on Ben as he stood quietly talking with Gisella. From her peripheral vision she saw the EMTs roll in a gurney. Deep inside she knew it wasn’t for her father. Her father was dead. He’d be leaving with the coroner.
No, the gurney was for the man who’d survived the attack.
The man who might know who killed her father.
After a few moments, Ben and Gisella walked over to the couch, blocking Corinna’s view as the unidentified man was wheeled out. She dropped her gaze to her clenched hands. Her mind replayed the last images she had of her father. His body sprawled across the floor, blood