Texas Hold 'Em Read Free Page B

made love to that body too many times to pretend she didn’t know who he was. “Go,” she cried. “I’m right behind you.”
    What was he doing here? What could he possibly want? Why now? Why here?
    Why him?

Chapter Two
    Her questions were wiped from her mind as Rose caught up with Timothy Santos a few seconds later. They raced in unison across the blacktop, crashed through a low hedge, and darted into the open area behind the station. If she’d been in heels instead of the flats she’d dragged out of her closet, this contest would have already been over and the men she’d been chasing would be long gone.
    All at once, a different pair of men bolted out from behind a tortured mesquite tree and followed the fleeing boy. They were obviously with the boy but had hung back, possibly because she would have recognized them. The idea fueled her legs, and she poured on more speed.
    She was halfway to the dry creek bed that bordered the county property when the trio reached the scrawny oaks lining the slope. Headlights flickered and the men shouted as they dashed toward the twin beams. A second later, the vehicle’s door slammed and an engine screamed.
    At her side, Santos lifted his gun and steadied his aim with both hands. Rose swirled, her breath catching in her chest. He’d won every shooting competition he’d ever entered, and she had no doubt he could hit the truck. Her chest heaving from the run, she cried, “Watch out! There’s a kid in there.”
    From beneath a well-worn cowboy hat, Santos silenced her with a single look, the light glancing off the slash of his cheekbones as he reluctantly pointed the barrel down. The moon came out from behind the clouds, the landscape turning to silver as the truck disappeared in a whirlwind of gravel and grit. As motionless as a slab of granite, he stood before her in a wide-legged stance. “He might have been a kid, but he was a kid with a gun.”
    He was right, of course—Santos usually was—but she didn’t admit it. “What in the hell are you doing here?” she asked.
    Only seconds passed as she waited for his answer, but in that moment, she swung from angry to stunned as his appearance registered. He was the man she’d lived with and loved two years ago, but nothing about him looked the same. Beneath his hat his hair was long and tangled, his face thinner, his eyes haunted—a stark harshness in his expression carving lines where none had been. Even his sleeveless leather vest looked worn, scratches and rips marring the entire surface, his jeans baggy and faded. The white felt hat, silver badge, pressed shirt, and polished boots were all gone. A quintessential bad boy had replaced the quintessential lawman.
    He didn’t answer.
    “Santos? Did you hear me? I asked you what the hell—”
    “I heard you, damnit.” He thrust his hands behind his back and tucked the gun away. “Why don’t you tell me what that was about instead?” He tilted his head toward the direction of the men’s escape.
    He’d always been a master at deflecting attention, manipulating the situation, doing whatever it took to turn things his way. She’d fallen for his maneuvering more often that she wanted to admit; she wasn’t going to repeat that particular mistake. She put her hands on her hips. “Last time. Why are you here? You can’t just show up out of the blue like this and not explain yourself.”
    “I have business in Rio County,” he said brusquely.
    “Business? What kind of bullshit is that—”
    He cut her off. “Answering my question seems like the least you can do since I saved your ass. Tell me what that was all about first.”
    He wasn’t going to give up. “I’m not sure,” she finally conceded. “I think he wanted to spring one of the idiots we have locked up.” She stared into the darkness then looked up at Santos again. “I think maybe one of the local drug guys named Juan Enrique must have put him up to it.”
    “If you had let me fire, we might have