Sinclair Justice (Texas Rangers #2)(59)

As she waited for someone to answer, she made a mental checklist. After she spoke to Louise to find out if Curt had made any recent reservations, or had flown to Mexico around the time of either kidnapping, she’d pack. Tomorrow, immediately after the reunion  , she’d approach Curt again and try to get him to go with her to Mexico City. If he refused, she’d book a flight on one of the majors.

Even as the scholar coolly, systematically went through her phone list, the soft, tender, lonely Emm was crying inside.

After tomorrow, she would never see Ross Sinclair again. But she’d have at least one happy memory to pull out and enjoy as she got old . . . For that, she couldn’t be sorry.

When she got back to Baltimore, hopefully accompanied by Yancy and Jennifer, she’d stay so busy that the desolation lapping at the shadows would recede back where it belonged. At the edges of her life, kept at bay by a career she loved and a fractured family that needed her.





Ross slammed his desk phone down, frustrated. He drummed his fingers on the top of the desk in his study, debating just showing up at Emm’s hotel, but he knew where that might lead, and his family arrived in the morning. He’d also seen the e-mail and final analysis from the engineer and skimmed the write-up carefully enough to realize both how comprehensive it was and that Emm had been right in her initial analysis. She was going to recommend they first be fined and cited with possible huge fines and then felonies if they tore either building down in defiance of a federal stay . . . He’d already checked the statutes.

The family would not be pleased. Sighing, he printed out six copies, one for each member of the LLC they’d formed to develop the building, but as he did so he wondered if Emm would still show up to try to persuade them to save her buildings. Her buildings. For some reason, he liked the ring of that.

His doorbell dinged. Ross went to the door himself, thinking it might be one of his guests, arriving early. He was surprised when he opened the door to see Chad standing there. He wore a jacket and his badge, so he was dressed for business. “Hey, Chad, what brings you here so late?”

“Can I come in?”

Ross stood back. “Of course.” He led the way to his favorite spot, the two chairs before the fire, which was still crackling in the spring chill. He poured them each a drink and sat down, waiting for Chad to begin.

As usual, Chad didn’t mince words. “They want to make me head of the task force, and I had to ask how you felt about that. You know I’d never take your job behind your back.”

Ross nodded, unsurprised. He swirled his brandy, searching for a tactful way to say this. There was none but the plain truth. “I asked to be removed, actually.”

Chad tilted his hat back, as he did when he was confused about something. “Why in God’s name would you do that? Pulling off this investigation would get you to Austin.”

“If I wanted to go to Austin. Which I don’t.”

“Okay, but that’s still an extreme reaction unless . . .”

Ross tossed back the rest of his brandy. “Unless I have a blatant conflict of interest.”

Chad took off his hat and cradled it on his lap. “Ah, I see.” He peered more closely at his former boss’s shadowed face. “I take it Ms. Rothschild is the conflict?”

Ross nodded, hoping his flush couldn’t be seen in the dim lighting. “I’m going to ask her to marry me at the end of the reunion  .” He smiled, as if mystified a bit at his own haste. “If nothing else, that will get her to shut up for five minutes.”

Chad laughed. “Don’t count on it.” He sipped his own drink more judiciously. “Isn’t your family likely to be opposed?”

“Yep. At least my mom and my aunt will be. If Emm had won a Nobel Peace prize and a Pulitzer and personally owned the Rothschild trust fund, they’d still be opposed. Why do you think I’m rushing things?”

Chad grinned ear to ear. “Fait accompli, in your fancy-schmancy, Yalie parlance.”

“That ‘aw shucks’ BS may work with Jasmine—”

“Actually, it never did—”

“But it doesn’t work with me.” Ross stood and offered his hand to his friend. “You’re the first to know about my resignation from the task force and about my marital plans. I don’t have to ask you to keep them quiet. Even from Jasmine.”

“I’ll try, but Jasmine reads me like a book. She knows I drove here to talk to you and she’s going to ask me what happened.”

Ross grinned. “So can you read her yet?”

Chad smashed his hat back on his head. “I’m working on it. Ask me again in about, say, fifty years. . . .”

Ross’s laughter followed him toward the door. But before he exited, Chad turned back to Ross. “And if we have to go into Mexico? Do you want to be in on that operation . . . in an advisory capacity?”

“Yes, but only because I know the data so well. I’m also taking a leave of absence, so I’d have to be included on that basis.”

Chad nodded, unsurprised. “And Ms. Rothschild?”

Ross scowled. “She has the bit between her teeth to find her sister and niece. I’m worried about how far she might go.”

“I figured as much.” Chad opened the door. “Okay, I’ll be sure you’re included on the task force if we do go in.”