Gunslinger. Angi Morgan

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      “Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

      The voice was drowned out by more rapid fire of another weapon. Laughter from the men as they opened the car doors. She wanted to recognize one of the men who followed the Tenoreno family everywhere. She couldn’t be certain. But the family wanted her out of the way.

      Gone. Forever.

      There was nowhere to run. No one to call out to for help. She was about to die and wanted to scream louder. Scream hysterically.

      The phone was still in her palm. She couldn’t be certain the police would respond. Her husband might have paid them to avoid the area. She prayed someone decent was on the other end of the call, trying to discover what was happening in this remote parking lot.

      The gunfire stopped.

      Sissy looked up, blinking hard to see her attackers. Maybe they were just trying to scare—another burst. Linda’s screams were cut off. Janna’s followed. Her eyes never shut as she fell to the ground.

      The stinging fire in her side whipped her around. Another stabbed through her arm like a hot knife through butter...quick, silently tearing her flesh. A third and fourth pierced under her arm that had flown above her head.

      Darren wrapped his arms around her but they fell. She landed hard under him. His body protected her from the full force of the bullets. The white gravel that had been hard to walk through minutes earlier turned dark. It registered but there was no pain. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t speak.

      The phone wasn’t in her hand. It had bounced away. The case had popped open, but the light was still on. Someone still listened.

      It was interesting what registered in her mind during those few life-ending seconds. Trivial information like the spots of blood now on the metal legs of the table. Or the burned-out bulb on the twinkle lights at the rear of the lot.

      The noise of the bass hip-hop and guns faded away to be replaced by sirens.

      What did any detail around her matter? She’d been shot...more than once. She was about to die. There was no one left to truly grieve for her. She’d said goodbye to a greedy family long ago. Her only friends were dead because she hadn’t wanted to be alone to face her ex-husband.

      After all their sacrifice, she would still die alone.

      What good had she accomplished in her life? She knew how to walk in high heels and how to throw her hair over her shoulder before placing her hand on her hip.

      Somehow she dragged her hand to her side and cried out from the pain. She wanted to tell someone the truth. Leave some sort of message about who had killed her. There wasn’t a way to reach her phone. She couldn’t move Darren.

      Her last thought should have been about kittens or something good. Instead the only thing that repeated over and over again was a never-to-be-seen headline...

      Xander Tenoreno Had Killed His Wife, Sissy Jorgenson, and No One Would Ever Know.

Chapter One

      Hico, Texas, present day

      “Shirtless? Of course I’m shirtless.” Bryce Johnson yanked the muscle shirt over his head, catching it on his ear. “What legitimate undercover Texas Ranger mows a lawn trying to get a woman’s attention wearing a shirt?”

      “I bet you have your glasses on, too.” There was a familiar sound from his partner, Jesse Ryder, as he held the phone to his chest and laughed. “And...um...don’t forget your Sig is showing.”

      Bryce scrambled behind his back. He gave up and went inside to drop his weapon, shirt and glasses. He didn’t need to see up close to mow the lawn anyway. The briskness of the AC helped cool his frustration. A little.

      “You know...” Jesse continued laughing. “If just taking your shirt off doesn’t work, you could try a speedo and a giant sombrero.”

      “Har har har.”

      Jesse should be giving him legitimate advice for his first undercover assignment. Not poking him with a big stick through the phone. It didn’t matter. His partner was three for three this morning and it seemed like Bryce was about to strike out.

      This weekend was his final at bat.

      “Seriously, man, is there a problem? If you don’t get her attention today, you might as well hang it up. They’re going to pull the plug and move on.”

      “We don’t know for a fact this is Tenoreno’s ex-wife.”

      “Now, look, Bryce. You sold Major Parker on this assignment because you were certain this woman was the ex. What’s changed your mind?”

      “Nothing. But there’s been no evidence or action that solidifies my hunch either.”

      “Hunch? Hunch?” Jesse’s voice rose in decibels and octaves. “You know how important this is to me, pal. The state’s attorney needs a slam dunk in the courtroom this fall. If this isn’t the ex, you need to move on and find her. We don’t have time for you to play a hunch.”

      The picture he’d burned into his memory could be a match. Was a match as far as he was concerned. He was certain. But short of walking up to her and asking if she had a bullet-wound scar on her abdomen and two others under her arm, there was no proof.

      He needed proof or her admission since he didn’t want to ask her outright. He couldn’t ask the time of day or to borrow a cup of sugar. Her house was secure and locked up tighter than the local bank.

      “When I’m not fixing something on this rental—which was a part of the deal you hatched up—I’m spending my spare time running more searches. You can’t guilt-trip me into working harder. I haven’t had a day off in weeks.”

      “I know, man. We just don’t have time to waste.”

      There was a lot more to this case than just finding a potential witness. The Tenoreno family had already tried to kill law officers to make the case fall apart. As far as they knew, the crime family was still searching for the primary witness under Company F protection.

      “Then let me get back outside and come up with a way to introduce myself.” He disconnected before his partner could try to give him more advice. His head was swimming with all the suggestions from the Rangers in his company.

      He left his service weapon in the lockbox he’d brought with him last week. Short trips back to Waco down Texas 6 had yielded more than a couple of suitcases of his stuff. The house was furnished, but he’d brought items to make it livable. Including his television and game station.

      Livable? More like bachelorized.

      The July heat pounded on his shoulders as he finished the outside chores. Not a bright idea for skin that hadn’t seen the light of day in years. He’d listened to advice from another Texas Ranger about how to get a woman’s attention, and today he was desperate.

      Bryce was finally on an assignment that didn’t include a computer. For the most part anyway. He was undercover. On his own and getting sunburned.

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