The Rancher Bodyguard. Carla Cassidy

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The Rancher Bodyguard - Carla Cassidy Mills & Boon Intrigue

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managed to learn a lot between last night and now,” she observed.

      He shrugged and pulled his keys from the ignition. “It just took a phone call to find out if he was at the garage today. Somehow I knew you’d want to talk to him.” He directed his gaze back at the building. “But, just because he isn’t at work doesn’t mean he’s here.”

      “There’s only one way to find out.” She opened her car door and stepped out.

      Charlie joined her on the cracked sidewalk and tried not to notice how pretty she looked in the yellow skirt that showcased her shapely legs and the yellow-flowered blouse that hugged her slender curves.

      This whole thing would have been so much easier if during the time they’d been apart she sprouted some facial hair or maybe grown a wart on the end of her nose.

      “Which unit is it?” she asked.

      “Unit four.” He pointed to the corner apartment, one that sported a broken window. Grace grimaced but marched with determined strides toward the door, on which she knocked in a rapid staccato fashion.

      Charlie stepped in between her and the front door, protective instincts coming into play. He had no idea if Justin was just a loser boyfriend or an active participant in William’s murder.

      The door opened and a tall young man gazed at them with a wealth of belligerence. He looked like he wasn’t having a good day. “Are you more cops?” he asked, his dark eyes wary and guarded.

      Grace moved closer to the door. “No. I’m Grace Covington, Hope’s sister, and this is her lawyer, Charlie Black. Are you Justin?”

      He hesitated a moment, as if considering whether or not to tell the truth, then gave a curt nod of his head, his dark hair flopping carelessly onto his forehead. “Yeah, I’m Justin. What do you want?”

      “Sheriff West has already talked to you?” Charlie asked.

      Justin’s eyes darkened. “He was here half the night asking me questions.”

      “May we come in?” Grace asked.

      Justin’s eyes swept the length of her and he scowled. “You don’t want to come in here. The place is a dump.” He stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

      “You were dating my sister?” Grace asked.

      Justin barked a dry laugh. “I wouldn’t exactly call it dating. She’s not allowed to date until she turns sixteen. We hung out, that’s all. When she’d show up down at the garage after school, I’d take a break and we’d just talk. It was no big deal.”

      There was hostility in his voice, as if he expected them to take issue with him. “Were you sleeping with her?” Grace asked. Charlie wasn’t sure who was more surprised by the question, himself or Justin.

      Justin gave her a mocking smile. “Don’t worry, big sister. As far as I know your baby sister is still as pure as the driven snow.”

      “Where were you yesterday morning?” Charlie asked. “Your boss told me you weren’t at work.” He felt Grace stiffen next to him.

      “Funny, the sheriff asked me the same thing.” Justin clutched his stomach. “I’ve been fighting off this flu bug. Yesterday I was here in bed, and if you don’t believe me, my roommate will vouch for me. I didn’t leave here all day.”

      “And your roommate’s name?” Charlie asked.

      Justin stepped back toward his apartment door. “Sam Young, and now I’m done answering your questions.” He stepped back inside and shut the door firmly in their faces.

      “Do you believe him?” Grace asked when they were back in Charlie’s car and headed for the hospital.

      He cast her a wry glance. “In the words of a famous television personality, I wouldn’t believe him if his tongue came notarized.”

      Her burst of laughter was short-lived, but the sound of it momentarily warmed his heart. Charlie always loved to hear her laugh, and there had been a time when he’d been good at making her do so.

      “After we speak with Hope, I need to find out if I can go to the house and get some of her things,” Grace said. “Dr. Dell thought he would release her at some point this evening or first thing in the morning, and we’ll need to get some of her clothes and things to take to my place.”

      “When we get to the hospital, I’ll call Zack and see what can be arranged.”

      “I’d like to talk to Hope alone. I don’t think she’ll be open about her relationship with Justin if you’re there, too.”

      “Okay,” he replied. He glanced at her and caught her rubbing her temple. “Headache?”

      She nodded and dropped her hand back into her lap. “I think it’s a guilt thing.”

      “Guilt? What do you have to feel guilty about?” he asked in surprise.

      A tiny frown danced across her forehead, doing nothing to detract from her attractiveness. “I should have been paying more attention to what was going on in her life. I should have been putting in less hours at the store and spending more time with her.”

      “Regrets are funny things, Grace. They rip your heart out, but they don’t really change anything,” he replied. He was an old hand at entertaining regrets.

      “You’re right.” She reached up, massaged her temple once again and then shot him a pointed look. “You’re absolutely right. The past is over and nothing can change the damage done. What’s important is to learn from the mistakes made in the past and never forget the lesson.”

      Charlie frowned, knowing her words were barbs flung at him and had nothing to do with the situation at hand. They spoke no more until they arrived at the hospital.

      As she disappeared into Hope’s hospital room, he called Zack West to find out what was going on at the Covington mansion. Zack informed him that the evidence gathering was finished and said Grace was free to get whatever she needed for Hope.

      When Charlie asked him for an update, he merely replied that it was an ongoing investigation and there was nothing new to report.

      As he waited for Grace, he sat in one of the plastic chairs in the waiting room. Charlie had a theory that murder happened for one of three reasons. He called it his “three R” theory. Rage, revenge and reward were the motives that drove most murderers.

      At the moment, the officials were leaning toward rage—a young girl’s rage at being stymied in a love relationship by an overbearing father figure.

      The news was certainly filled with stories of young people going on killing rampages against authority figures. Had Hope snapped that morning and stabbed William while he slept and then, filled with remorse, taken drugs in a suicide attempt?

      Hopefully they would be successful in coming up with an alternative theory that would explain both William’s death and Hope’s drugged state.

      He looked up as Grace entered the room. She sat next to him as if too exhausted to stand. “What did she

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