Abducted:Reconnaissance Team (Texas Rangers: Special Ops) (12 page)

Liz hadn't thought the situation could get any worse. She'd been wrong.

The door between the den and the covered patio opened and she turned from the railing with her cell phone pressed against her ear to see Ben stepping through the doorway.

“Richard, I have to go. I’ll call later. Promise.” She ended the call. “You have an uncanny sense of timing,” she told Ben.

He closed the door behind him and joined her at the railing. “Yeah, I've heard that before.” He reached for the small of her back. “Let's sit down.” Ben directed her the few steps to a massive metal patio table and pulled out the nearest chair. She sat down and he took the seat to her left. “You look like you just took a punch to the stomach.” 

She set her phone on the table. “I don’t think I can go back to my hotel.” 

“Considering the men who followed us to the restaurant, I'd say not. Did you think differently?” 

“I guess I hadn't thought about it. I have now. Richard was leaving the hotel when I called. Apparently, reporters are swarming the hotel looking for me—for us.” Tension cramped her stomach. 

“I warned you Sanchez wouldn't let you walk back to your life,” Ben said. “He wants us badly and he's making it impossible for us to show our faces in public. The hotel is a perfect example.” 

“But how did they find me?  I was registered under an alias.” She shook her head. “Will word reach Dallas?” 

Regret appeared in his eyes. “It's only a matter of time.”
If it hasn’t already
, she read in his thoughts. “I'm sorry, Liz.” 

“I doubt you had the slightest idea I would end up in Mexico with you.” The memory of her kidnapper’s breath on her neck sent a shock wave through her.

“Liz.” 

She started and saw Ben’s face before her.

His brows furrowed in concern. “You all right?”  

“How will this end?” she asked.

There was the barest of hesitations and she realized he was choosing his words. “It'll end with Sanchez in jail and you safe.” 

She shook her head. “Until we testify at his trial and he's put behind bars, we're in danger. That can take years.” Even then, would she be safe?

“Not years,” Ben said.

“Please,” she cut him off, “don't lie to me. My career will be over—if it isn't already.” 

“One day at a time, Liz.” 

“That's easy for you to say, you're—” Liz broke off, realizing what she was about to say.

“I'm younger?” he finished. “I still have most of my career ahead of me?” 

“That's not what I meant.” She shook her head. “This is finally sinking in, and I'm at a loss at what to do.” 

“It is what you meant,” he replied. “Don't be sorry. You're not completely wrong. Though, according to a recent article in
Scientific American
, women outlive men by about six years. That puts my career where you were at forty, which means you're only four years ahead of me. Not that much, when you think about it.” 

Liz stared. “Is that supposed to make me feel better about my career ending just when it was taking off? Or am I to believe that the eleven year age difference between us really isn't that much?” 

He shrugged. “It's not about the difference. It's about me being able to do what I say I can do. I am capable of protecting you, and,” he flashed a small smile, “and I won't die on you as early as an older man will.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “Unless I kill you first.” 

His eyes darkened and her breath caught.

“There are worse ways to go,” he murmured.

She broke the stare and shook her head as much to ward off the effects of his gaze as to emphasize her words. “Even if we lived in the same city, you couldn't watch me twenty-four hours a day.” 

“I could give it a go.”  

She snapped her head up and met his gaze.

The amusement—and desire—vanished from his expression. “I'll get him, Liz.” 

At what cost? she wondered. “You don't think he's discovered your identity yet?” 

“I'm hoping not.” 

“‘Hope isn’t certainty. I would hate to see him get away after all we've sacrificed.” 

Ben leaned back and gave her a direct look. “What did Anderson have to say? Did he fire you?” 

“Of course not.” 

“He knows about the warrant for your arrest in Mexico, right? You told him before the video hit the news?” 

She nodded. “He plans to consult the company attorneys.” 

“I imagine you plan to talk with your personal lawyer.” 

“Yes. This is new territory for me. I want all the information I can possibly get.” 

“So don't hold a funeral for your career just yet,” Ben said. “I know it looks bad, and we have our work cut out for us, but I won't let you down. Listen, Liz—” 

The door opened and they looked over their shoulders. Hal stood in the doorway.

“Brandon wants to know if John should saddle up the horses.” 

Liz gave Ben questioning look. 

“You ride, don't you?” he asked her.

“Sure, but—” 

“Dad suggested we take a ride before dinner. We have about an hour. Just enough time to clear our minds.” 

She started to decline, but he interrupted.

“We have some of the finest horses around. You’ll have a little down time to mull things over.” 

Something was up.  She was half afraid to find out what it could be, but said, “All right.” Ten minutes later, she stood in a barn next to a Chestnut and an American Saddlebred, wearing a borrowed felt hat. Ben stepped from the tack room carrying a rifle in a leather saddle holster.

“Expecting trouble?” she asked when he reached her.

He shook his head and stepped up to the American Saddlebred. “No, but you don’t take even a short ride in these hills without a rifle. We run into a bobcat, we’ll be glad for the firepower.” 

Liz had a feeling there was more to his caution than protection from four-legged hunters. “You don’t really think Mr. Sanchez knows I’m here, do you?” 

Ben strapped the holder into the saddle, then grasped the hat he'd hung from the pommel and put it on his head as he turned. “If I thought that, we wouldn't be taking a ride.” 

“But you're not taking any chances.” 

Regret flickered in his eyes. “I've taken enough chances, don't you think?”

Liz sighed but didn't argue. They mounted and she followed him out of the stables. She came up alongside him and her gaze caught on the powerful thigh hugging the horse's ribs. Memory flashed back to last night’s dance, those thighs pressed intimately against hers. Warmth rippled through her. What would those muscular thighs feel like beneath her fingers…between her legs, his arms wrapped protectively around her?

“Liz?” 

She jerked her head up and met Ben's gaze.

“You ready?” he said.

“For what?” she blurted, then realized her mistake. The amusement in his eyes said he had a pretty good idea what she'd been thinking.

She looked straight ahead, glad for the hat that cast enough shadow on her face—she hoped—to hide her expression. Then she realized a second mistake. To the west, orange streaked the sky in a blazing sunset above the Franklin Mountains. A breeze blew across the brush-covered desert and along the rolling hills. The waning day was spectacular. Perfect for a ride with an attractive man—no, a gorgeous man. This ride had been a mistake.

“A ride, then dinner, Mr. Hunter,” she said, keeping her gaze fixed on the view.

“That's all I ask, Ms. Monahan,” he said, but she heard in his voice,
that's all I'll need
.

The canter turned into a gallop that brought them to the summit of the tallest hill they’d taken yet. They slowed and a poppy field came into view. Liz cried out. Wind rustled desert brush growing among the bright yellow flowers.

“It's beautiful,” she murmured.

“I thought you might like it,” Ben said.

She looked at him. “Thank you.” 

He smiled and touched his hat. “Happy to oblige, ma'am.” 

A tremor radiated through her.
He's young
, she reminded herself,
too young to realize that the thrill of chasing an older woman would vanish once the conquering is done
. And she was too old for a one-night stand—or a wild fling. May/December, her mind began, but she grimaced inwardly. The very idea made her feel every day her age.

“You want to walk for a bit?” Ben asked.

Liz returned her attention to the flowers and nodded. “I would love to.” 

They rode to the bottom of the hill and dismounted.

“I haven't seen poppies in bloom like this in forever,” she said as they began to stroll among the flowers.

“Unless we have a particularly dry year, this spot tends to bloom well,” Ben replied.

“Have you photographed this spot?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact, I have.” She didn't miss the surprise in his voice. “My father told you?” he said.

“I saw the pictures over the fireplace. The mountain range isn't the Franklin Mountains, is it?” 

“No.” He nodded toward the mountains in the distant north. “The Organ range.” 

Liz bent and picked a poppy. “You're quite good.” 

He smiled. “I consider that a real compliment, coming from you.” 

“So why law enforcement over photography?” she asked.

“The world doesn't need another photographer.” 

“But there is a shortage of good law enforcement officers?” 

He laughed. “There's a shortage of law enforcement officers, period.” 

“Your cousin isn't thrilled with your choice. How does your father feel?” 

“About the same as R.W.” 

“He seemed to be defending you,” she said. “He told R.W. to stay out of it.” 

“Dad doesn't like to air dirty laundry.” 

“Is that what your career choice is, dirty laundry?” 

“No,” Ben replied. “That was unfair. He's a private man.” 

“I can't blame him there,” she said.

“Neither can I.” 

“It must be difficult for him knowing his son won't work the ranch.” 

Ben gave her a sharp look. “You think he's right?” 

She shook her head. “I didn't say that at all—and I wasn't thinking it, either,” Liz added when she saw the question in his eyes. “I'm a big believer in walking your own path. What I’m saying is, it might be easy for him to take your decision personally.” 

“Maybe,” Ben said. “But he'll have to learn to live with it.” 

“How many more years you think it'll take him?” 

Ben laughed, a full rich sound. “My father isn't known for giving in. Could take a long time.” 

“He's proud of you.” 

Ben's head snapped in her direction. He studied her for a heartbeat. “That's an interesting observation and not one most people would agree with.” 

“Your photographs are hanging over the mantle. Your accomplishments matter to him.” 

Ben looked away. “He never minded me having a hobby.” 

“He didn't hesitate to support you in letting me stay here.” 

“Never let it be said that Brandon Hunter turned away a lady in distress.” 

“Is he really that cold?” she asked.

“In a way,” Ben replied, “but it's not the whole truth. Any law abiding citizen would want to see Sanchez put out of business. You can make that happen.” 

“I can
help
make that happen
if
Mr. Sanchez returns to the US. What are the chances he'll do that after what happened last night?” 

“Sanchez getting caught in the US isn’t our only choice,” Ben said.

Liz put a hand on his arm and brought him to a halt. “If you chase him into Mexico and don't make it back what will I do then?” 

Curiosity glinted in his eyes. “What would you want to do, Liz?” 

“What I want is to
not
have your death on my conscience,” she answered. “Not to mention, Mr. Sanchez would still be alive.” 

“Would you miss me?” he asked. “Even a little?” 

The question caught her off guard. “I don’t want you getting killed.” 

“I have no intention of getting myself killed.”  

“We never do,” she replied.

He glanced at the ground. “Look, there's something you need to know.” 

Her heart sped up. “Something's happened.” 

“Dammit, Liz, you can't keep jumping one step ahead of me. I'm a man, I can't take it.” 

“What is it?” she demanded.

He seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second and her fear mounted.

“Everyone agrees that Sanchez is probably still in Juarez,” Ben said. “You and I are a problem he has to solve, and fast. It's being considered that if Sanchez believes you and I are returning to Mexico to face the charges—”