the message to a local rancher, Jesse Stevens. Research had shown Stevens and Hamm had been friends at one time, but what had happened to drive them apart? Had it been enough to make Jesse Stevens want to kill his former friend?
Stevens was quite a force here in Royal. The wealthy rancher was very involved in the politics of the local Texas Cattleman’s Club, and while Zoe may be grasping at straws, the fact that her vic had been found in the building currently being developed into a new Cattleman’s Club might not be such a coincidence after all. Right now, she had to look at everything. Pressure from the chief of police and Houston’s mayor was constant, and so far her team had little to show for their investigation. Her captain had pulled her aside just yesterday and asked her if she was getting stale. The question had made her bristle. Stale? When all she did lately was live, eat, sleep and breathe this case? Not likely. But he’d made it clear—he needed to see results or she might be stood down.
Thinking about it, Zoe reached a decision. She didn’t want to wait until morning to go face-to-face with Stevens. She could drive out to his ranch right now. October sunset wasn’t until around seven, which gave her three hours of daylight. Plus, the element of surprise would be in her favor if she just rolled up without an appointment. She opened her map app on her phone and pulled up the address she’d saved for Stevens’s ranch before leaving Houston. The ranch was outside Royal and isolated. Nothing but pasture and cattle. Zoe ignored the itch between her shoulder blades and got into her car, set her phone in the hands-free holder and hit Start on the journey planner.
The drive took longer than she expected, but as she pulled through the gates of Stevens’s ranch she felt a sense of triumphant relief that she had made it. People could tease her all they liked about her reliance on modern technology to get anywhere, but it got the job done, she thought with a small smile.
She was still smiling when she went up the front stairs of the impressive ranch house and knocked on the front door. But her smile slipped when no one came to answer. She knocked again and waited a couple of minutes before walking along the front porch to one of the side windows. She looked in. No movement, nothing. Zoe blew out a huff of frustration. Maybe a phone call would have been a better idea after all. Still, she had a list of his known associates here in Royal and she knew one of them was his neighbor. She walked back to the car and reprogrammed her app to the next address on her list.
This time she struck gold when she knocked at the door of the neighboring ranch, which was no less impressive in size and structure than the Stevens property. She’d always known ranching was a prosperous undertaking when done right, but the two properties she’d been on so far were something else. She plastered a smile on her face and flicked her short dark hair back off her forehead as the steady sound of footsteps coming to the door echoed from the other side.
The words she was about to say dried on the tip of her tongue as the door opened, revealing a tall, imposing presence. While the guy wasn’t heavily muscled, there was no doubting the latent strength in the shoulders that bunched beneath the checkered shirt he wore over a crisp white T-shirt. Zoe’s gaze flicked up—something she wasn’t always used to doing when wearing boots that, combined with her natural height, put her at around six feet. Instantly, her attention was captured by the man’s eyes. Light brown and shot with gold, they were incredibly mesmerizing and were set in a face that was all sharp lines and angles softened by a generous dusting of five o’clock shadow that wrapped his jaw. There was an almost wolflike look to him—as if he were assessing her as prey.
Rather than getting put on the defensive, Zoe found herself reacting on a far more visceral level—each facet of her mind sharpening, while every cell in her body responded with pure feminine interest. A wave of physical need pulled from deep within her, robbing her of breath and making her nipples harden against the lacy cups of her bra. She drew her full lower lip between her teeth to stop herself from making the involuntary sound—something like a moan—that threatened to spill from her.
The man’s hair was wet, as if he’d recently stepped from a shower and just slicked it back—its wet ends kissed the edge of his collar and left a damp trail. She drew in a sharp breath, only to discover how intoxicating the scent of him was. She was shocked at how deeply and suddenly he had affected her. She had trained herself from day one at the police academy not to show her emotions. Good things, bad things—it made no difference. She had learned to remain impassive, detached. But right now, she was anything but detached. In fact, right now, every instinct was screaming at her oversensitized body to plaster itself against his length and take his mouth in a possessive kiss that would leave him in no doubt of how much she wanted him. For a nanosecond she allowed herself the luxury of imagining where that might lead. To their two bodies, glistening with perspiration, tangled in tumbled sheets, gliding together, perhaps? She blinked hard and forced herself under control. This was utter madness. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d reacted to a guy this intensely.
Those intriguing eyes narrowed as he looked at her, and she realized that neither of them had spoken.
“Miss? Can I help you?”
His voice poured over her. Deep and strong and sexy as hell. This guy could recite a list of traffic infringements and make her knees turn to water.
“Detective,” she corrected him, showing him her badge. “Zoe Warren, Houston P.D.”
“You’re a little out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you?”
She wasn’t mistaken. The warmth and pure male interest she’d seen reflected in his eyes had dimmed, his gaze sharpening warily.
“The boundaries of our investigation have stretched a little,” she said carefully. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, Mister…?”
“Cord Galicia,” he answered abruptly and thrust out his hand.
Zoe debated taking it. If her reaction to him on a purely visual basis had been so extreme, how on earth would she react when she actually touched him? There was only one way to find out. She drew in a sharp breath, took the proffered hand and clasped it. A slow sizzle of awareness tracked along her skin. His hand was larger than hers, the palm firm, and she could feel the calluses that spoke of the hard work he did. The title of rancher wasn’t simply some token. This man clearly worked, and worked hard. Did he apply himself to everything else he did with as much vigor? she wondered before giving his hand a quick shake and releasing it.
“May I come in?” she asked.
To her surprise, her voice remained steady. Quite a feat when her insides were jangling about as hard as they had in junior high when she’d been asked to prom by the captain of the soccer team. She was already head and shoulders taller than him but it hadn’t bothered her—until she found out the whole thing had been a joke designed by the rest of the team. But that initial response, the delicious sense of anticipation and excitement, she’d never forget. She just never expected to feel it here on the outskirts of Royal, Texas, while working a homicide investigation.
For a moment it looked as if he’d refuse, but then he stepped back from the doorway and gestured for her to move inside. He closed the door decisively behind her, but Zoe didn’t let it rattle her. She’d dealt with people with far fewer social graces than Cord Galicia.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” he asked as he led the way into a large open-plan living room.
“Water would be great, thanks.”
“Take a seat,” he said gruffly before heading through a doorway toward what was, presumably, the kitchen.
Zoe sank into a large leather sofa. In a smaller room the piece of furniture would have dominated, but not here. She looked
