My brows shoot up. “So? In case you forgot, I’m retired.”
“I didn’t forget, asshole. They present the Thomas Distinguished Service Award at the ball every year. I…uh…they’re awarding it to me for the Manchester case. This…came in the mail the other day.” He digs into the pocket of his sport coat and withdraws a thick card.
I run my fingers over the embossed lettering across the front.
Captain AJ Stone and Mrs. Grace Stone
“Fuckin’-A. Who sent this?” I demand.
AJ shrugs. “Does it matter? What’s done is done. I’m gonna walk in there tomorrow night and the place at the table next to me is gonna have my missing wife’s name on it. I can’t do it alone, Jas.”
The anguish on his face does me in. All my anger fades in a heartbeat. “Fine. But I ain’t dancing.”
The Boots and Bling Charity Ball is one of the swankiest parties in town. In my ten years working for the Department of Public Safety, I only went once. Didn’t much care for schmoozin’ or politickin’. But AJ’s only missed one in the last thirteen years—the event right after Grace disappeared.
Most of the men are in tuxes, the women in fancy gowns and heels so high, I wonder how they can walk in ‘em. “Shit. There must be two hundred people here,” I mutter and tug at my jacket. My black Wranglers and boots were the wrong choice.
“Two-hundred-and-six,” a woman says from behind me. The voice is familiar. Silky smooth, confident. Sexy. Maybe this night won’t be entirely miserable.
I turn, and my smile falters. Fuck. A stunning brunette stares right past me, her gaze sweeping over the crowd.
Emmylou Marsh. Star reporter for Channel 5 News. Does she remember me? We met. Once. Those few minutes are foggy from all the pain meds they had me on after the explosion, but I remember her beauty. And the sadness in her eyes.
Tonight, red silk drapes her curves, dipping low between her breasts. Fuck me. She’s even more beautiful now.
Don’t stare, idiot. She’ll think you’re a creeper.
I force my gaze up. Long, wavy brown locks tumble over her shoulders. She brushes away an errant curl, then pauses to fiddle with a silver teardrop earring dangling almost all the way to her shoulder.
Before I can offer her my hand, she waves to someone across the room and, with a quick, “Enjoy your evening,” glides away on heels so thin, they should be registered as weapons.
AJ sidles up next to me, his frown etched even deeper than usual. “What the fuck? Was that…?”
“Emmylou Marsh? Yeah.” I shove my hands into my pockets and hunch my shoulders. AJ might be grumpy as a hornet, but he’s wearing a black suit, crisp white shirt, and a dark red tie. Next to him, my well-worn leather jacket, button-down, and black Wranglers make me look like I just wandered in from the street.
“She apologize to you?”
I stare at my brother, and a headache starts to throb between my brows. “For…?”
“Marching into your hospital room and demandin’ you reveal details of an internal DPS investigation less than forty-eight hours after you flatlined on the table?” Streaks of silver flare in his eyes. “She’s an ambulance chaser in a pretty dress, nothin’ more.”
“And you would know…how? I seem to recall, you left. Did you stay two hours? Three?” I snort. “Comin’ here was a mistake.”
AJ grabs my arm before I can stalk away. “Two hours? Try two days. You were hopped up on so much morphine, you had no idea what the fuck was goin’ on. I was in that chair watchin’ over you for two solid days, Jas. And nights.”
The pain in his voice shocks me into silence for so long, he shakes his head. “Forget it. We need to find our seats. Dinner’s startin’ soon.”
He wades into the crowd, toward tables set with fancy plates and sparkling crystal. Most of my first few days in the hospital were lost to whatever the fuck they gave me to ease the pain of my injuries—along with my grief and a truly unhealthy amount of guilt.
In truth, I don’t remember talking to Emmylou Marsh. She’s a hazy, angelic vision in my mind. I didn’t watch the news coverage of the explosion either. But I do remember the touching tribute she delivered to Schaffer and Urbanski on the evening news the day of their funerals.
She’d taken the time to interview their friends and families. Even got the Commander to give a statement. Donations for the Texas Rangers Association skyrocketed that day—and every day for the next week when the story was replayed on Channel 5.
Schaffer’s family was able to keep their home because of those donations. And Urbanski’s kid will go to college next year on a scholarship from the TRA. Unlike my brother, I don’t have beef with Emmylou Marsh. Even if I should.
A man hustles up on stage and grabs the microphone. “Attention, everyone. Dinner will be served in twenty minutes. Please start making your way to your seats.”
Guess I should get to findin’ AJ. It doesn’t take long. He’s at the table closest to the stage, his entire body ramrod straight, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Those damn place cards. If someone really did put Grace’s name on one…they’re gonna have to deal with me.
