Page 18

NINE
He was in deep, there was no doubt about it.
Daniel pushed against the rocking chair on the enclosed porch and sipped his iced tea. The book his mother had bought him for Christmas rested on the wicker coffee table in front of him.Murder on the Banks. One of Ellie's books, though she published under a pseudonym.
That thought made him snort. Ellie Brooks wasn’t even her real name.
It was a strange feeling. To be so drawn to someone whose true identity he didn’t even know. Dangerous too. He’d been burned before. Ellie wasn’t his ex-wife, not at all, but the pattern remained the same.
Complicated women. They were his type.
Voices filtered from the kitchen. Cole had arrived two hours ago and promptly made himself useful by eating them out of house and home. Daniel glanced through the screen door and caught sight of his friend plowing through a slice of cherry pie. Unbelievable. How did he have room for it all?
Cole said something too low to catch, and Marta laughed in reply. She’d always liked Cole. Or maybe, like Daniel, she appreciated having another lawman on the premises.
Daniel set his empty glass down and picked up the hardback. It had been published last year and featured a police officer tracking a serial killer. The review quotes on the cover called it “thrilling” and “well-researched.” The author bio didn’t include a photo and was vague enough to protect Ellie’s identity. Smart. It was unlikely the men hunting her had located her through her books.
The screen door creaked. Ellie stepped onto the porch in an oversized hoodie and jeans, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders. She looked tired. Tense.
She crossed to the railing and breathed in deep. “It’s so pretty here. Peaceful.”
“It is. Owen go down okay?”
“He didn’t last through story time. Missing his nap really threw off his afternoon.” She turned to face him. “Putting him to bed this early risks a middle-of-the-night wakeup, but after his third meltdown, I figured he’d had enough.”
Ellie probably had too. Daniel hated to put her through a difficult conversation, but it needed to be done. He set the book back on the table and stood. There were about two more hours of sunlight left. Enough for a nearby stroll. “Want to see my favorite spot on the ranch?”
Her brow furrowed slightly, and then she nodded. Daniel took her hand. Her skin was soft, the brush of her palm against his sending a jolt of attraction straight to his heart. He ignored it, leading her off the porch and onto a pathway that curved around the house. Beyond the last fence post, the land opened into a narrow trail shaded by oaks. Wildflowers brushed their jeans as they moved between the trees. He knew this path by heart, could walk it even in the dark.
Soon the faint sound of trickling water reached his ears. The creek bent in a gentle curve, the water catching the light in golden ripples. A few smooth boulders flanked the bank, and a weathered bench rested beneath an old pecan tree, half-shadowed by the overhang of leaves.
Ellie’s eyes widened. Her lips curved into a smile that nearly stole his breath. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. This is beautiful.”
“It was my hiding spot as a kid.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then let go.
“What were you hiding from?”
“I have six brothers and sisters. I was hiding from everyone.”
She chuckled. “I was an only child. My best friend, Lisa, lived next door and had three siblings. Two brothers and a younger sister. I came up with every excuse under the sun to hang out with them. The house was chaos and always loud, and there was a mess everywhere, but it was also warm and fun. Her mom baked all the time. To this day, the smell of chocolate chip cookies reminds me of a loving home.”
He cocked his head sideways, studying her. “Was it so different from your own house?”
“Night and day. My parents were professors. Bookish and introverted. No one ever raised their voice or played practical jokes. Don’t get me wrong, Mom and Dad loved me, but their idea of a good time was a documentary, not a midnight swim at the lake.” She glanced at Daniel. “I guess, in the end, we always want what we don’t have. You longed for quiet. I wanted lively.”
He leaned one shoulder against the pecan tree. “Where are they now? Your folks, I mean.”
“Deceased. A car accident when I was in college.” She sighed. “Not everything I told people is a lie.”
“Must be hard. Keeping your story straight, facts mixed with falsehoods.”
She scoffed. “I’m a pro.” Ellie tucked her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. “My real name is Elizabeth Conway. Three years ago, I was a Special Agent with the FBI working undercover to infiltrate a white supremacist organization known as the Iron Fist.”
Daniel stiffened, his shoulders drawing back. He wasn’t surprised to learn Ellie was an FBI Agent—he’d already deduced she was in law enforcement—but the Iron Fist connection ratcheted up the danger several notches. The gang started in Austin but had expanded their operations to Houston and San Antonio. They trafficked in drugs, illegal weapons, and people.
They were also known for their brutality. Murder and mutilation were the tip of the iceberg. The Texas Rangers took part in several active investigations connected to the gang, but so far, had been unable to dismantle the operation.
“How long were you undercover?” he asked.