Chapter Four

Joined at the hip .

With all the info Owen had just doled out about this hellish ordeal, Jemma was more than a little surprised that the hip comment was the one flashing in her head. She had thought that an intense investigation, along with being in danger, would be enough for her to think of Hayes only in a professional sense.

But no.

Thoughts of the attraction were there, creating yet more clutter and chaos in her overloaded mind.

Since Jemma already had her shoulder holster and gun, she was ready to go. Ditto for Hayes. Then again, he was likely always in the ready mode, thanks to his military training and his time at Strike Force.

She was thankful for every bit of his expertise and muscle. Every bit of the money and manpower Owen was contributing, too. Because that second part of Owen’s order was far more important than joined at the hip .

Find out fast if Cordelia Salvetti is a cold-blooded killer .

Hayes and she walked past reception, where his brother, Declan, was still hard at work on his laptop, and they stepped outside into a different kind of chaos. The cruiser was indeed there, parked right in front, but there were a half dozen other vehicles. Workers who were installing sensors and security cameras.

And there were plenty of places to install them.

The Sunset Inn was basically a sprawling English manor-style estate with acres of fancy gardens and thick trees surrounding it. Where there wasn’t a plant, shrub or a tree, there was a statue, stone bench or a babbling natural spring fountain.

Rumor had it that Bonnie and Clyde had once stayed here after a particularly successful bank robbery, and while housing criminals clashed with the inn’s overall ambience, it fit well with the town’s image. Sort of Downton Abby meets outlaws’ hideout.

Jemma glanced up when she heard the buzzing sound, and she spotted the drone circling in the air. Probably doing aerial surveillance to make sure a sniper didn’t get into one of those trees and start shooting. Owen had certainly been thorough, not just with manpower but also equipment, and she hoped that was enough to keep them alive.

The manpower included two other men in camo pants and black tees—which seemed to be standard wear for Strike Force. She knew one of them was Shaw, and the other had the same black hair, same piercing gray eyes, and kick-ass demeanor as Declan and Hayes.

“Shaw’s with one of your other brothers?” she asked.

Hayes made a sound of agreement and tipped his head in greeting to them. “That’s Aiden.”

One of them moved out of his standing guard stance and walked toward them. “You’re Deputy Salvetti?” Aiden asked.

She nodded. “Jemma,” she offered.

Aiden returned the nod and shifted his attention to Hayes. “Owen said I’m to shadow the two of you if you leave the building.” He motioned toward a Hummer parked behind the cruiser. “Where we going?”

“To see my stepmother at my family’s estate,” Jemma let him know.

Aiden muttered an “Oh, man,” and made a whistling sound. “Home of the Rattler,” he muttered, using the nickname that some called her father. “Are you sure she’s there?”

Jemma nodded. “I had a text conversation with both my father and my brother, Nico, this morning.” They’d both been checking to make sure she was okay. “Nico’s in Hong Kong on business, so he’s not at the estate, but my father told me that Cordelia and he were home and that Cordelia’s son is visiting as well. I don’t want to let them know we’re on the way there because Cordelia might try to duck out.”

Aiden made a quick sound of agreement. “You’ll want me in the estate for the interview?”

Jemma considered and quickly dismissed it. “No, it’s probably better for you to wait outside. Cordelia’s back will already be up at just my mere presence. Best not to add to that.”

Aiden studied her. “You’ll be safe during this visit?”

“Yes, my father will be there, and Cordelia’s not stupid enough to try anything in front of him.”

Of course, that meant Cordelia likely wouldn’t let anything incriminating slip in front of him either. Still, Jemma might be able to tell if the woman was lying. And that was a start.

“So, you two are a…team now,” Aiden commented.

“Don’t go there,” Hayes warned him, causing Jemma to try to figure out what this was about. It seemed to be some kind of sibling ribbing, something she recognized since she had a brother.

Hayes huffed. “Aiden’s the one who set us up on that blind date at the escape room. He was supposed to go but got sick, so he and his date canceled out, and he insisted I use the tickets instead. He also assured me that I’d be doing the escape room solo. But his date, Melanie Carstairs, apparently gave her ticket to you.”

Aiden made a fake cough. Then, he grinned in a way that only a rock star and a conniving sibling could have managed. “Hayes doesn’t get out enough. And I’m betting you two had fun.”

Actually, Jemma had had a blast, but she knew that Hayes hadn’t been thrilled about spending time with her. And, yep, Melanie had indeed given her the ticket.

“Hayes kicked down one of the doors in the escape room when we couldn’t…escape,” Jemma commented.

“And you picked the lock of one of the other doors,” Hayes was quick to remind her.

“There are some advantages to being raised by the Rattler,” she said under her breath.

Though, truly, that was about the only one. Her father had taught her that particular skill when she’d been six, and while she’d never used it for anything illegal, it had helped a time or two when she’d accidentally locked herself out of her house or vehicle.

“The Salvetti estate,” Hayes snarled on a huff, a clear indication that he was ready to end this short trip down memory lane and get to work. Jemma was more than ready for that, too.

Hayes and she went to the cruiser with Jemma automatically getting behind the wheel. As a rookie, she was the one to drive the sheriff around whenever he got called in on some issue that happened during her shift.

“Full disclosure,” she said as she started driving. Aiden was right behind them in the Hummer. “I knew the escape room was a setup blind date because Melanie told me.”

Hayes frowned. “And you went anyway?”

“I did,” she verified and debated how much she should keep to herself about this. Jemma just continued the full disclosure route. “I also went to the two parties where I knew you’d be. I was interested in seeing you. I know you wear a gold wedding band on each of your pinkie fingers, but I found out you weren’t married so I thought, well, that you were…available.”

There. She’d done it. She had basically just thrown herself at him to let him know she was attracted to him.

But then the awkwardness came with a vengeance.

“Crap,” she grumbled. “Either you’re not into me or else you’re put off by my family ties. It’s okay—”

“Neither,” Hayes snapped. But that was all he said for several long moments. “Your family ties don’t bother me as much as they probably should.” Another pause. “And I’m attracted to you.”

A nice warm buzz flitted through her. It felt like a little silver lining in a whole bunch of dark storm clouds.

It didn’t last.

Hayes’ mumbled profanity caused it to disappear. “Full disclosure,” he echoed, lifting his hands. He tapped the ring on his right pinkie. “That belonged to my mom, who was a cop, and she was killed in the line of duty when I was six.” He tapped the other ring. “I bought that one for my fiancée four years ago. My late fiancée ,” he emphasized. “She was an FBI agent, and three weeks before our wedding, she was killed by a fugitive in a shootout.”

“Well, shit,” Jemma spat out. She certainly hadn’t heard any buzz about that. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks,” he muttered. “But now you understand…well, you understand.”

She did. Twice burned in a seriously bad way would put anyone off of getting involved with a potential third burning.

“I’ll back off,” she assured him.

He made a sound, one that she thought might be of disproval. Or was that wishful thinking? She didn’t have time to dwell on it though, because they had reached their destination.

Her family’s estate.

Such that it was.

The area surrounding it was plenty beautiful enough, thanks to the backdrop of Texas Hill Country. Lush trees, green hills, and a picturesque limestone bluff. But the house itself looked more like a sprawling prison with its dark gray limestone exterior. Added to that, it was surrounded by a wrought iron black fence.

There wasn’t an actual Keep Out sign, but there was nothing welcoming about the place either.

“Home, sweet home,” she grumbled, using her keycode at the gate so both Aiden and she could drive through.

She parked in the circular drive with Aiden pulling to a stop right behind her. Hayes put in an earpiece, no doubt so he alert his brother if something went wrong, and he gave her one as well. And because that something going wrong could include her being gunned down, Jemma had a long look around. Checking for any signs of a sniper. If one was nearby, she couldn’t see him so she stepped from the cruiser.

Just as her father opened the door of the estate.

He made an imposing figure standing there and throwing off his usual mafia-cowboy vibe. Jeans and boots on the lower half of him. A crisp white shirt, black jacket and black Stetson on the top half. And, yep, that Stetson band sported a rattler’s tail, which is supposedly how he’d gained his nickname. She also suspected his dangerous, quick-strike reputation had added to it.

“Jemma.” He went to her, pulling her into his arms for a hard dad hug.

And she hugged back.

She hadn’t lied to Owen when she said her father was a complicated man. He was. So were her feelings for him, too. The woman in her hated so many of the things he’d done, but the daughter in her loved him beyond reason.

Jemma didn’t let the hug go on long. This was a business trip, and there was that pesky possibility of a sniper being around.

“Dad, this is Hayes Brodie,” she said as she stepped back. “ Deputy Hayes Brodie,” she amended. “This is my father, Stefano Salvetti.”

“Hayes,” her father greeted, offering his hand, which Hayes shook. Reluctantly. “You’re here about the murders.”

“We are,” Hayes verified. He was clearly concerned about a sniper, too, because he practically pressed himself against her back and fired glances all around.

Her father got the hint and ushered them inside.

Hayes did more of those glances, probably not taking in the décor but checking for any possible danger. There wasn’t any that she could see, but Jemma knew there were plenty of security cameras—which was how her father had known of their arrival. Plenty of protection, too. Her father would have at least one bodyguard nearby, and both the bodyguard and her dad would be armed.

“I need to speak to Cordelia,” Jemma said, skipping any possible chitchat.

Because she was watching her father’s face, she saw the subtle change in his expression. Just the slightest lift of his right eyebrow. “You think she had all those cops killed?” he came out and asked.

“Do you think she could have?” Jemma countered.

Her father smiled, patted her arm, and directed his comment to Hayes. “I swear, she was born a cop. She became a lawyer instead, but she soon found her way to a badge.” His smile vanished as quickly as it’d come. “Is my daughter in danger?” he asked.

Hayes didn’t hesitate. “Yes, I believe she is. That’s why we need to speak with your wife.”

Stefano sighed and motioned for them to follow him. As expected, they didn’t go toward the family living quarters which was basically the entire right wing of the house. Instead, they went to the left wing where business was conducted. An area that Jemma usually avoided because even as a child, she’d known what her father was doing was wrong.

“Do you suspect me of these murders?” her father asked as they walked. Their footsteps echoed on the slick marble floor.

Jemma had rolled and re-rolled this over in her mind. “No. You wouldn’t have allowed shots to be fired at me.”

He glanced at her, nodded, but then shifted his attention to Hayes. “For what it’s worth, my business is legitimate now.”

Jemma knew that was true. If it hadn’t been, then she would have been building a case against her father. Yes, she loved him, but that didn’t mean she would turn a blind eye to his wrongdoings.

“And my daughter is right,” her father continued. “I wouldn’t have put her in harm’s way, and I intend to have a word with whoever tried to kill her.”

Jemma groaned. Oh, heck. Not this. He was in the overly protective father mode. “You’re legitimate,” she reminded him. “Keep it that way, and let the cops deal with the killer.”

Her father made a sound that could been either an agreement or a flat-out refusal. Impossible to tell which. He shot Jemma another glance before he stopped outside one of the doors. He knocked once and opened it without waiting for an invitation for them to enter.

Cordelia was at her desk, talking on the phone in whispered tones, but she quickly ended the conversation when she spotted her visitors .

And Jemma watched the show begin.

Cordelia stood, showing off her lipstick-red, body-hugging dress that fit her to perfection. The perfection applied to every strand of her blonde hair, too. Heck, to all of her.

Her stepmother plastered on a smile. “Stefano,” she said, going to her husband. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. “You should have told me Jemma would be coming by.”

“Jemma and Deputy Brodie need to ask you about those dead cops,” her father said, now pinning his attention to Cordelia. Both his voice and his eyes were flat.

The show continued with the woman’s smile fading, a soft sigh rushing from her mouth, and her expression morphed into concern. Well, morphing as much as it could, considering Cordelia was wearing her usual substantial amount of makeup.

No mafia-cowboy persona for her.

More like the former beauty queen and socialite that she’d once been. She was doing a stellar job of hanging onto her youth, too, and she looked nowhere near her fifty-six years.

“Why would you believe I knew anything about the murdered police officers?” Cordelia asked. Butter stood no chance of melting in that cool mouth.

“Because you’ve filed multiple complaints against Sheriff Bonetti and me for harassment,” Jemma volunteered, “and you’ve made it crystal clear that you hate my guts.”

That shot the cool to hell and back, and this time, Cordelia’s eyes narrowed to slits. Finally, they were seeing the real Cordelia. “Because you have harassed me. I didn’t have anything to do with your mother’s death. Or those cops’ murders.”

“So says you,” Jemma grumbled. “I’m going to Mirandize you and ask you some questions.” She launched right into that, while Cordelia launched right into an outraged tirade.

“I told you she was harassing me,” Cordelia snapped, turning to her husband for support.

Stefano certainly didn’t leap to her defense. “Someone tried to kill Jemma,” was all he said.

“Well, it wasn’t me,” Cordelia insisted. “I mean, Jemma and I have clearly had our differences, and she refuses to accept that her mother’s cancer was responsible for her death—”

“Someone gave her an overdose of pain meds,” Jemma interrupted, and then she silently cursed because of the images that caused to flash in her mind.

Images of her mother’s cancer-ravaged body three years ago. So pale, so thin. Dying. But someone had sped up the process with an extra boost of morphine. Since Cordelia had been her mother’s so-called friend and was at the house that day, she was the most likely candidate.

It didn’t help that Cordelia had started putting the moves on Jemma’s grief-stricken father less than a month after he’d lost his wife. Her father hadn’t acted on those moves.

Not right away.

But Cordelia and he had married shortly after the two-year anniversary of her mother’s death. That’d been nearly twelve months ago. Jemma didn’t know if those somewhat hasty nuptials were because her father actually loved Cordelia or if he’d simply needed to fill the void of losing his wife of nearly three decades.

Jemma felt Hayes’ arm press lightly against hers. Just a touch. But it was enough to snap her back to the reason she was here. And that reason wasn’t to take a trip down nightmare lane. Especially since she had a current nightmare to deal with.

“Where were you last night between nine pm and midnight?” Jemma asked Cordelia.

Not that she expected Cordelia to have done the actual shooting. No, she would have hired someone for that. Or used her scummy son, Brooks Winslow. But it was possible the attacks would have required Cordelia to have some phone contact with the person doing the actual killing.

Her stepmother made a sound of outrage and looked on the verge of imploding. “I was here,” she managed to say through clenched teeth.

“Can anyone verify that?” Jemma pressed.

Again, Cordelia looked at her husband, but he just shrugged. “I had one of my migraines, and I went to bed early,” he said.

“But I came to bed after you were asleep,” Cordelia insisted. “I was there when you got the call about someone shooting at Jemma.”

“When did you get that call?” Hayes asked.

“About one AM,” her father answered. “One of my employees heard about the murders and the attack. And, yes, Cordelia was in bed with me then.”

“One o’clock,” Jemma repeated.

The gunman had shot at Hayes and her about an hour before that so it was possible that Cordelia had concluded her business with the killer by then and gone to bed. Jemma knew that her father’s migraine meds usually knocked him out.

“I’ll be getting a warrant for your phone records,” Jemma continued, glancing at both her father and Cordelia.

Her father took out his phone and handed it to her. With an I’ve-got-nothing-to-hide smirk on her face, Cordelia did the same.

Jemma took out two small plastic evidence bags from her pocket and dropped the phones into them. She also filled in the info on the form printed on the outsides of the bags. Preserving the chain of evidence.

“Do you use landlines or burners?” Hayes asking, glancing at both Stefano and Cordelia.

“There are three landlines in the house,” her father readily answered, and a slight smile tugged at his mouth. “But, no, I haven’t used burners in a while.”

“How about you?” Hayes asked, turning to Cordelia.

That wiped the smirk off her face. “No burners.”

Jemma wished she had the woman hooked up to a lie detector. Since she didn’t, she went with another ploy. An outright lie, something the police were allowed to do during an interview.

“There’s now a way to check the cell towers to see if calls have come from a specific location,” Jemma stated. “It’s very accurate as far as providing the exact time and origin. I’ll be able to find out if someone made a call with a burner here at the estate last night. Heck, the techs can probably pinpoint the exact room where one was in use.”

Cordelia’s eyes went to slits. “It’s possible Brooks used one while he was in the guest suite,” she snapped.

“Oh?” Jemma doled out a smirk of her own. “Where is he? I need to talk to him and ask him about that.”

And she needed to have that conversation with him before Cordelia could give him a warning. Jemma didn’t want Brooks to have time to come up with a lie.

“He’s in San Antonio,” Cordelia snapped. “Or at least he should be soon. He left about a half hour ago. Business meeting,” she tacked onto that.

“I need his number so I can contact him right now,” Jemma insisted.

No imploding look this time. Cordelia looked very concerned, but she didn’t make a move to provide Jemma with that info. Her father did though. He took back the bag with his phone, and using it through the plastic, he scrolled through the contacts and sent the number to Jemma. When her own phone pinged with the info, she stepped away from Cordelia and her father and made the call.

It went straight to voicemail.

There were possibly some dead spots for reception on the drive from Outlaw Ridge to San Antonio, but it was equally possible that Cordelia had instructed her son not to take any calls from Jemma or the cops. So, Jemma used her father’s phone to attempt the contact.

That one went to voicemail, too.

She was about to ask to use Cordelia’s cell to repeat the process, but Hayes touched his finger to his earpiece. Aiden was likely communicating something to him.

Something that caused every muscle in Hayes’ face to turn to iron.

“Copy that,” Hayes muttered, no doubt responding to Aiden, and he motioned for Jemma to follow him out of the office.

Oh, God. This wasn’t good. But she managed to get her feet moving, and she went with Hayes in the hall. Her stomach tightened into a knot when he turned to her.

And tightened even more when he spoke, and she heard the news that she hadn’t wanted to hear.

“Owen’s been shot.”