searched for the unidentified man’s weapon. And found none. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, Ben picked up Greg’s weapon and sniffed the end. He frowned. The gun hadn’t been fired recently.
Obviously, this wasn’t a Western-style shoot-out. Whoever had fired the fatal shots was gone, along with the murder weapon.
Cade and Levi entered through the open patio doors. A hiss of surprise came from Gisella as she stepped up behind Ben. More shocked exclamations followed as the Rangers slipped carefully into the room.
Ben went to Greg and squatted down to check his pulse. Grief sucked the air from his body. He looked at his comrades and shook his head.
“This one’s still breathing,” Cade said as he checked the pulse of the other man.
Ben shoved his own anguish aside to be dealt with later and focused on Corinna. By profession, Corinna was a prima ballerina with the San Antonio Ballet Company, like her mother before her. Amanda Pike had died of breast cancer when Corinna was young, not long before Ben had met Greg.
He moved closer and touched her shoulder. She flinched. A knot formed in his gut. She looked so small and vulnerable.
Had she witnessed her father’s murder? Fresh sorrow and compassion tightened his chest. Protective instincts rose despite the antagonism that had always sparked between them. He wanted to shield this fragile ballerina from the harsh reality of her father’s death.
The sound of booted feet brought Ben’s gaze around. Sheriff Karl Layton, a tall man with shocking white hair and chiseled features pushed his way into the room. Layton inclined his head, his question clear. Was Pike alive?
Ben shook his head as another wave of grief flowed through him. Layton blew out a breath and tears misted the older man’s eyes. Greg and Karl had been close friends from way back.
Layton swiped a hand over his face. “Dispatch relayed the 911 call.”
The sound of an ambulance arriving let Ben know they only had a few minutes to collect information before the body was remanded to the local police force. His gut twisted with grief. Greg wasn’t just any body. He’d been a father figure to Ben for more than a decade.
Shifting his focus from Greg, Ben said to his men, “Work the scene. Get the SAPD crime response unit in here pronto while the evidence is still fresh.”
“Already made the call,” Cade replied, his normally tanned skin ashen.
Gently, Ben took the phone from Corinna’s hand and passed it to Oliver. Her skin was pasty white; her dark hair had loosened from her normally severe bun. And her dark eyes were glassy as she stared off into space. Taking Corinna’s shoulders in his hands, he pulled her to her feet. She didn’t resist. Ben figured shock was setting in.
When she turned to face toward him, his heart contracted painfully in his chest. “You’re hurt!”
She didn’t seem to hear him.
Blood seeped from a scrape on her right upper biceps. He inspected the wound. Looked like a bullet had grazed her. Whoever had killed her father had tried to kill her. With aching ferocity, rage roared through Ben. “Get the paramedics.”
“On it.” Cade pivoted to disappear out the door. A moment later, he returned with one of the emergency personnel in tow while the rest rushed by to help the injured man.
“Excuse me, sir,” the young blond man said to Ben.
“Let me take a look at her injury.”
Ben stepped back but held firmly to her slender hand.
“It’s a surface wound that will probably leave a small scar,” the paramedic stated as he placed a bandage over the gash. “The heat of the bullet cauterized the flesh. It will heal quickly enough.”
But Ben had a feeling that her heart wouldn’t heal anytime soon. She’d adored her father. That had been apparent from the moment Ben stepped foot into the Pike world. She’d barely tolerated Ben from the get-go with her icy stares and brusque manner, making it clear she thought him not good enough to be in her world. But when it came to her father…
Greg had known that if anything happened to him, she’d need help coping with the loss and ensuing devastation.
“Ben, I need you to promise me if anything ever happens to me, you’ll watch out for Corinna. She’ll need an anchor. I fear she’s too fragile to suffer another death.”
Of course Ben had promised. Though he’d refused to even allow the thought that any harm would befall his mentor and friend to form. He’d wanted to believe Greg was indestructible. But he wasn’t. None of them were.
The Rangers were human and very mortal, performing a risky job that put their lives on the line every day.
Never before had Ben been so acutely aware of that fact.
Now his captain was gone. It was up to him to not only bring Greg’s murderer to justice, but to protect and help Corinna.
Tucking her small frame against his side, he led her away from the scene of the crime and into the living room. He flipped on the table lamp before guiding Corinna to the worn navy blue leather couch.
She’d been a gawky pre-teen with a mouth full of braces and an attitude of superiority that had grated on Ben when he’d first met her. He’d watched her transform into a Texas Rose—beautiful, poised, aloof and way off-limits.
At least for a guy like him.
Now Corinna was an orphan. Something they had in common. His heart twisted with empathy and remembered pain. All the confusion, anguish and utter helplessness of losing his parents still swirled around his heart, even after more than two decades.
Ben gathered Corinna’s hands in his. He’d walk through this with her every step of the way. But first he had to know what had happened. “Corinna, I need you to talk to me.”
Her lips trembled but no words came. Large tears slid from her eyes to mingle with the blood on her cheek. It hurt him to see her so distraught.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked.
She blinked, a slow sweep of long dark lashes. Turning her head to meet his gaze, she said in a soft, broken voice, “Someone killed him.”
“Did you see who shot your father?”
She shook her head. “I heard the gunfire as I arrived.”
He hated to push Corinna for fear she might break, but he needed to know what she’d seen so they could follow the fresh trail to Greg’s killer.
“I need you to walk me through this. You arrived and heard the gun. Were you in your car?”
She shook her head. “On the porch.”
“How many shots did you hear?”
“Two.”
He rubbed her arms, careful not to go near the stark white bandage wrapped around her biceps. “Okay. That’s good. You heard two shots. Then what happened? Did someone
