Chapter Three
Cowboy did his best to look surprised. He’d known she was late for her meeting. He’d paid the attendant at the hotel good money to make sure of it. It also hadn’t been that hard to sweet-talk Ms. Katz into letting him take Grace’s place.
After she’d jumped into the back of his rental car, it had taken him a few seconds for it to register where he’d seen her before. He’d have driven her wherever she’d wanted to go regardless, but having her fall into his lap could only be a plus. Telling her father she had not listened to his instructions hadn’t been pleasant. Not that Cowboy could blame her for going against orders. If one of his friends had disappeared, no one could stop him from doing his own investigating either.
But this little gal was going to be a burr under his saddle if he didn’t handle her the right way. “Are you following me?” he asked, trying to make it sound in good humor.
“No.” But she turned a pretty shade of pink. “Maybe you’re following me,” she countered in a vain attempt to turn the table.
“I was here first,” he pointed out. Then he put her on the spot and waited. It wasn’t gentlemanly of him, but he liked that her skin took on an even nicer shade of pink, softening the hard lines he’d seen around her eyes back at the airport.
“I-I had an appointment with the senator.”
“I believe he said he was done for the day.” He’d kept the senator talking long enough to eat up any time the man could have spared.
“I couldn’t get a cab from the hotel. I ended up being late,” she explained. “Did you take my appointment?”
“Nah, but seeing as how his schedule opened up, we chatted longer.” And if anyone had told him yesterday how well he and Stanton would get along, he’d have called bullshit twenty times over. Not only had the man not recognized him, they were on their way to becoming best buds. It was nauseating. He had to keep reminding himself the father was not the son.
The extra time had been a bonus. It wasn’t like he could come right out and ask about Jessie. But when Lyle Stanton had barged in, the relief on his face had been telling. He’d expected his son to be talking to another reporter and said as much. Why?
“I’m sorry. If I’d known you were headed here, I’d have given you another ride.” Or not.
“That’s all right. I managed to get a meeting for tomorrow. Or at least I hope I did. His secretary said she’d try to squeeze me in between appointments.”
She wasn’t going to like what he was about to tell her, but honestly it was for her own good. She should be listening to her father. “The senator isn’t going to be here tomorrow.”
“Yes he is. His secretary—”
“Is on the phone right now clearing his day.” He nodded over to Ms. Katz, busy doing exactly as he’d just said.
“Nooo. She told me he had a full day.”
As he’d guessed, she wasn’t happy. Cowboy reached out and snagged her elbow before she could harass the woman. “He did, but his plans changed.”
“How do you know this?” She regarded him suspiciously. “And who exactly are you?”
“His granddaughter is flying in earlier than expected. He wants to be at the airport to pick her up.”
“He could send a car,” she said, not buying the excuse.
“The girl is fifteen and travelling alone. He promised her mother, who isn’t flying in for a few days, that he’d be there. The senator is very protective of his family.” And perhaps his political career? Time would tell, but time wasn’t something Jessie had.
“Again,” she said, eyeing him warily, “who are you?”
“Daniel Bailey.” They shook hands. The years he’d been on the circuit had come in handy today—it’d been a long time since he’d played a role like this. “The senator hired my company to find his granddaughter a thoroughbred for her sixteenth birthday. They’ve planned a big party for her.”
“Oh, I see.”
Clearly disappointed, she had yet to let go of his hand. Not that he was complaining. In the picture he’d seen of her she’d been pretty. In person she was a whole lot of pretty.
She wouldn’t get a chance to talk to Stanton. Not only was he freeing his day to spend it with his granddaughter, Cowboy also knew that for the next two weeks he’d be at his ranch, far away from a snooping reporter.
“I’m Grace.” To his disappointment, she finally dropped his hand. “Grace Irvine. I’m a reporter trying to do a story on the senator.”
“Sorry about your bad luck.” He wasn’t. It was better for her that she didn’t take matters into her own hands. Good intentions can’t protect anyone.
“I have to talk to him. Is he still in his office?”
It wasn’t uncommon for politicians to have backdoors to their offices but the senator’s headquarters were in an historical building. There was only one entry point. “Yes, unless he snuck out while you and I were talking. But barging in there isn’t going to earn you points.” Maybe he should let her storm in. It would be sure way to have her ass tossed out. The senator was friendly enough, more so with Cowboy as they still hadn’t negotiated the price on that horse, but his father was with him now. And that man made a snake’s nest look homey. If the senator was protective of his family, Lyle Stanton was the mean junkyard dog of his son’s career.
“No, I wouldn’t do that. He’d see me as unprofessional. Then he’d never talk to me,” she said, surprising Cowboy.
The woman wasn’t stupid. He could see her wheels turning. “Come on,” he said before she could formulate a plan. “I’ll give you a ride back to the hotel and we can grab a drink. Your day doesn’t seem to be getting any better.” He started walking, hoping she’d follow. He was nearly at the elevator when he realized she hadn’t. He stopped. “Are you planning on jumping him after all?” he asked, triggering a quizzical look from Ms. Katz. But whoever was on the other end of her phone conversation caught her attention and she went back to ignoring Cowboy and Grace.
“His father is with him,” he told Grace, “and he didn’t appear happy about the senator cancelling his appointments for tomorrow. I’m going to assume they won’t be in the friendliest of moods when they come out. Best not be around.”
“Look, I appreciate the advice, but it’s in his best interest that he talk to me. The media have been roasting him. He needs one of us on his side.” She crossed her arms and turned to stare at the door to the senator’s office.
How the hell could he get her out of here? Should he even bother? He hadn’t lied. The tension between father and son had been palpable. Things were not well on the Stanton front.
“He has his own publicity team and I’m sure more than one or two reporters who support him. Sorry, Grace, but he doesn’t need you.”
“Then why did he agree to see me?” she asked, stepping closer to him and appearing to think she’d vindicated herself against his comment.
She had him there. Why had Senator Stanton agreed to see her? If it were his wife who’d landed herself in jail with a DUI, he sure as hell would let his team handle the fallout and not allow an outside voice to fuck it up. “I wouldn’t know. But unless you’re planning on stalking him, I don’t see how you’re going to catch him before he heads home.”
He glanced over at Ms. Katz, busy rearranging the senator’s schedule and looking almost as displeased about the change in plans as his father was. Just then, the door to the senator’s office opened. Lyle Stanton emerged with a crusty scowl that warned consequence should someone approach him. Grace, smart girl that she was, read him right and kept her distance as he blew through the outer office, leaving behind the smell of freshly smoked cigar.
“That man is more of a grouch than I am,” Grace said. “I have never seen him without a scowl. Even when the senator won his seat. He’s a very unhappy man.”
The grouch comment piqued his interest, and he’d have asked her about it had the senator not chosen that moment to leave his office.
He set his briefcase down on Ms. Katz’s desk and shrugged on his suit jacket. “Helen, I’m leaving for the day. You know where to reach me should anything come up.”
And Cowboy would bet from the man’s irritability that he and his father hadn’t had a great father-son heart-to-heart after he’d left them alone. Grace, however, didn’t let his foul mood stop her. She made her move.
“Senator, may I have a moment of your time?”
“I’m sorry,” Stanton said having just noticed Grace, “but I have somewhere I need to be. Talk to my secretary and she’ll make you an appointment.”
“I had an appointment,” she continued, refusing to be dismissed.
“I’m sorry. You are?” he asked curtly.
“Grace Irvine. My flight got in late and I missed our meeting.”
“Oh, yes,” he said, his expression changing from annoyance to shit, better be nice to the press friendly. “You’re the other reporter from Dallas. I was sorry to hear about…your colleague.”
Yeah, Cowboy figured he’d stutter on that one. Jessie’s name had never been printed in the paper when the news broke about his son all those years ago. She’d been a week shy of sixteen and, as a minor and the victim, her rights needed to be protected. Lyle hadn’t been happy about it. His grandson had died saving a black girl. That must have pissed him off something awful, but then not being able to use it to his advantage in getting his son elected…. Lyle Stanton gave new meaning to coldhearted bastard.
“Ms. Irvine, if I don’t leave now I’ll be late picking up my granddaughter from the airport. Ms. Katz will be happy to reschedule.” Stanton grabbed his briefcase and again turned to leave.
“Maybe I can go with you,” she offered. “We can talk on the drive, and I’ll grab a cab on the way back.”
“I really don’t—”
But Grace was on a mission. “Senator, I think I can help with you with your campaign. The press has been particularly nasty and with this last incident…” She paused, letting her meaning sink in. Not that she had to spell it out. Stanton’s approval rating had taken a hit, and this close to the election, if he didn’t turn it around he’d be saying goodbye to his seat.
“This isn’t the first and I’m sure not the last time the media have used me to sell papers,” he argued.
“Yes, but wouldn’t a positive account about you be beneficial?”
“And you would do that? Why?” he asked.
“I report the truth,” she said. “I don’t want to hang you out to dry. It’s been done and is no longer news.” Meaning it wouldn’t help her career? She was sneaky, this one.
Then upon seeing Cowboy, Stanton’s frown vanished.
“Mr. Bailey,” he said, surprisingly pleased to see him. “You’re still here.” He turned his attention to him, ignoring an unhappy Grace. “Good. I was going to look you up on my way to the airport. I was wondering if you’d mind coming out to the ranch tonight. I have a few more questions. This horse was my wife’s idea, and as she’ll be away until the party”—Cowboy knew she’d be in rehab until the party—“I would like to be assured that our new stables are ready for the animal. I’m not much of a horseman. My mother passed that particular passion on to Ella. But since this is my granddaughter we are talking about, I don’t want anything to go awry.”
Well, paint him a rainbow and toss him over a bridge. He’d sat and talked to the man for nearly an hour with no hint of recognition from either the senator or his father and now here he was, being invited to the man’s house. He’d counted on Stanton Sr. forgetting yet another faceless kid he’d bossed around.
While saddened to hear Mrs. Stanton had passed, if she were around, no way could he go out there. There was also the ever-present danger of getting too close to his own parent’s place. And then there was Irvine’s daughter to consider. He’d like to find Jessie, but his job was to keep an eye on Grace. “Let me check my schedule. Can I get back to you?” ICU had a man in San Antonio and he could be called to fill in while he checked out the ranch.
He snuck a peek at Grace, now standing with her arms crossed studying the two men and doing her best not to appear impatient.
The senator followed Cowboy’s gaze and apparently realized he’d left Grace hanging but ignored her anyway. “Ms. Katz, would you give Mr. Bailey the address?”
The woman nodded. “Yes, sir. And I’ve notified your grandson he’s to meet you at the car.”
Grandson? That’s right, Amanda had two kids. He remembered the shower her grandmother had thrown for her at the ranch. He’d never said two words to the senator’s daughter. The likelihood of her remembering him was hopefully nil.
“I’m sorry, I really have to leave now,” he said, extending his arm to shake Cowboy’s hand. “Please try to clear your schedule.” Then without waiting for a reply, he started for the elevator. “And Ms. Katz, give Ms. Irvine the address too. Eight p.m. tonight, Ms. Irvine. Don’t be late this time.” Stanton turned and gave her a practiced smile before disappearing behind the closing doors.
Grace, having gotten her appointment, grinned at Ms. Katz.
“I’ll message his security gate and let them know to expect you. As the senator said, Ms. Irvine, don’t be late. He’s invited you to his home, somewhere the press doesn’t have access to.”
In other words, don’t screw up.
Stanton must really want the story. Cowboy wasn’t much for politics and he certainly stayed clear of anything to do with Stanton and his family, for obvious reasons. But in this day and age would a screwy family and messed up wife really hurt his chances of reelection or did Stanton have something else in mind? Regardless of Stanton’s offer, with Grace having been invited, he now had another reason to go to the ranch he’d once worked on. One missing woman was enough.
After taking the business cards from Ms. Katz, they too headed for the elevator. Normally Cowboy took the stairs but mindful of the black strappy heels Grace was wearing, he chose not to. “Would you like a ride to the hotel?”
“That would be nice, thank you. Hey, you want to take the stairs?” she asked, looking him over. “You don’t look like you’d mind. We’re only three stories up.”
He glanced at her shoes but she beat him to the punch.
“You let me worry about my feet.” She laughed. “The heels may be high but they beat out the sweaty cowboy boots you’ve got on.”
He glanced down at his boots. “They’re not sweaty and they’re comfortable,” he said, leading the way to the stairs. Unlike newer buildings this one had no fire door to block out the marble steps. “I’ll go first. If you stumble, you can land on me.”
Grace quirked an eye at the man’s statement. It conjured up all kinds of images and she had a hard time pushing them out of her mind. It was a good thing his back was to her because she was sure her face had turned red. Plus the image of that man’s ass and the way the muscles in his back moved when he walked was a bonus on what had turned out to be a good day. She’d not only gotten her interview but an invitation to Senator Stanton’s ranch.
“Comfortable? How long did it take you to break them in?” She’d owned a pair of boots. Living in Texas she had to at least try. But she’d been impatient for the comfy worn-in stage everyone talked about and had given them to Jessie.
“That’s not the point.”
That was exactly the point. “What good is it to buy footwear that is only comfortable once they’re broken in?”
“’Cause,” he said over his shoulder, “once they are, it’s like walking in slippers.”
“After walking on nails. No, thanks.”
“Not the patient type, are you?” he said, shaking his head.
“Nope.” She wanted it when she wanted it. Life was short. She didn’t mind working for things, but wearing in shoes and waiting in lines was a waste of time. “I’m not a seed kind of girl. I’d rather buy the plant.”
Much to her disappointment, he reached the last step. There been something supremely satisfying in staring at his ass without him knowing it. He turned and waited for her to join him.
“Sometimes watching it grow is more satisfying, and like it or not, some things need time to grow.”
“You do it your way and I’ll do it mine.”
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Why do people do that? How do I know what to say if I don’t know the question? You can ask what my favorite color is and I won’t care, but ask what color underwear I’m wearing and I might smack you.” She made it to the landing and had to tilt her head. She’d need stilettos that even she wouldn’t wear to look him in the eyes. Damn, the man was tall … and trying really hard not to laugh. She’d bet he had a great laugh.
He didn’t say anything; instead he chose to admire the ceiling. After a long pause he finally returned his attention to her. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to avoid looking at … I mean… you know, use my x-ray vision and all.”
“X-ray vision? Who are you, Spiderman?”
“Superman.”
“Huh?” Now she was confused.
“Superman has the x-ray vision, not Spiderman. Superman is the one who can see through clothes.”
She scratched the back of her neck, amazed at the stuff they put in comic books. “You mean to tell me Superman is a pervert? I thought he could just see into buildings and stuff like that. Who wants kids reading about a guy who can see under people’s clothes?” Her eyebrows shot up, finally getting his meaning. Her face heated and she quickly turned for the exit, Daniel Bailey following and twice now making her blush.
“First off,” he was saying, “Superman isn’t a pervert. He doesn’t actually look at women in their skivvies, and second, how do you not know this? Even if you never picked up a comic book…” He beat her to the entrance and opened the door for her. “They’ve made numerous movies about Superman.”
“Thank you,” she said, waiting for him on the sidewalk. “I don’t go to movies.” She preferred real life.
“Are you kidding? Never? No chick flicks?”
“Rarely.” On occasion Jessie had dragged her to some romantic comedy. The movies hadn’t been all that bad but she couldn’t see the attraction. It only gave women a false idea of what a romantic relationship should be. Maybe if people stopped looking to Hollywood to tell them how their own lives should be they’d figure it out and cut the crap. “Movies give people the wrong idea of about life. Kids might understand guns better if they didn’t watch their heroes walk away from gunshot wounds. Films taint perception.”
“Films provide escape, entertainment, and sometimes a very real message.”
“I don’t believe in escape. Deal with what life gives you and move on. I’d rather spend time with real people, and the messages coming out of the movie industry do more harm than good.”
“Dang, have you always been this cynical or did someone, excuse my language, piss in your cornflakes?”
“I’m not a cynic. I’m a realist. And you don’t have to watch your language around me. I’m not some shrinking violet. They’re words. Words only hurt if you let them. Actions count.”
“Holy—” He shook his head. “What was the asshole’s name?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Who was the asshole that broke your heart?”
“Is that it?” she asked.
“Is what it?” he said, his head tilting in confusion.
“The personal question you wanted to ask?” Although it was personal, it was one she could answer because no one had broken her heart. Not a man anyway.
“Well I guess. In a roundabout way. You said you weren’t a seed person. You wanted it when you wanted it. But there are things in life that take time. Relationships and children, to name a few. I was going to ask if you were in a relationship and didn’t that require time, but I can see now why you said what you said.”
It wasn’t like her to discuss her personal life with a complete stranger. For starters, the only man she trusted was her father and she was never one to give someone else ammunition to use against her. Her feelings were her own and no one needed to know her soft spots and weaknesses, to exploit them later. But for some odd reason, Daniel reminded Grace of Jessie. She knew she should be leery. Charm was a ploy to get people to follow your agenda. Still, she found herself liking him. Maybe her friendship with Jessie had softened her up a bit. Maybe Jessie’s disappearance was making Grace vulnerable. Either way, she warned herself to tread carefully. “It’s hot out here. Can we go?”
“Sure.” He gave her a half-smile. “And I’m sorry. This is none of my business. My car is in the lot across the street.”
They walked in silence, him having dropped the subject, probably thinking he’d overstepped; her weirdly at odds with herself. Part of her wanted to answer his question. She wanted to tell him her parents had had a shitty and bitter divorce. Her mother, who as it turned out had been cheating on her father, had filed for divorced after he was lying in a hospital bed, having been shot in the line of duty for the second time. What kind of person did that? Their screwy relationship only added to Grace’s views on life. People sucked and the world was a dangerous place, and if you didn’t have someone to watch your back, then it was best to be on your toes and on guard, not standing around watching the pretty flowers grow. Jessie had almost convinced her otherwise, then she disappeared and the truth Grace had always known came back to slap her in the face.
After he opened her door and she got inside—tamping down her unease with sitting in the front seat with a man she barely knew—she waited until he joined her before she spoke. “My father is a cop.” How high on the food chain he actually was didn’t matter. “When other kids got Cinderella bedtime stories, I got crime stats. My friends took dance lessons, I took self-defense. I was applying to law school when my dad was almost shot for a third time. I thought I could do more good exposing corruption and crime than trying to defend scum who thought nothing of killing cops, so I changed my major. I removed my rose-colored glasses a long, long time ago. Now, to answer your question, no one broke my heart. It’s just that bad things happen to good people and if you’re picking daisies while trying to play offense, your head gets crushed.”
He snapped his seatbelt into place and pushed the starter, the engine turning over. “Why not just enjoy picking the daisies? Life can’t be lived waiting for something bad to happen.”
“That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Isn’t it?” He pulled out of the parking lot, signaled right, and merged onto the road. “You go looking for the bad,” he said, turning his head to take a long look at her, “and it will find you.”
“No. I just prefer to be prepared.” And him to keep his eyes on the road.
“Same thing. You anticipate the worst.” He shot another long glance her way. “That can’t be healthy.”
“My health is just fine. I passed my yearly medical with flying colors.”
“Yeah, how about your mental one?”
“Are you telling me I need a shrink?” Being a realist didn’t make her nuts.
“I’m saying waiting for the other shoe to drop isn’t great for your sanity…or your stress level.” He gave her another long stare.
“What isn’t good on my stress level is you not keeping your eyes on the road.” She pointed to the front of the car.
“Please,” he snorted “I’ve been driving since I was ten years old.”
“Ten? You grow up on a farm?”
His shoulders tensed, not a lot but enough to indicate he hadn’t meant to tell her that. What was the big deal? It was the wrong move to pique her reporter’s curiosity.
“Yeah,” he answered, clearly not happy about it. Or not happy about telling her?
“Not good times?”
“Nope.” They stopped at a red light. “It’s a time in my life I’d rather forget. Would you like a ride to the ranch tonight?”
Normally she wouldn’t allow a change in topic. Jessie said she was like a bloodhound when it came to sniffing something someone wanted to hide. But he wasn’t her story… or her reason for being in San Antonio. “Yes, thank you. But you have to let me chip in for gas. It’ll be the third time you’ve driven me somewhere.”
“Nah, keep your money. You’re just hitching rides and making the drives more enjoyable. I should pay you,” he grinned, the tension she’d created with her question vanishing.
“You have to let me return the favor somehow.”
“Okay. I’m going to work out, but we’d still have a few hours to kill. Have dinner with me?”
She considered saying no. Having dinner with a handsome man while Jessie was somewhere out there alone, and who knew what else, seemed wrong. But it was just dinner and she had to eat. “Okay, sure.” Plus, she had good instincts—her father had made sure of that—and her instincts told her Daniel would prove an asset. The senator liked him. She didn’t know how she could use that to her benefit but it was always good to have extra in your pocket.