Justice for Miranda Read online

  The deer kicked out with its good hind leg and sent her clipboard over the edge of the tailgate.

  Laughing quietly, Miranda shook her head. “My bad, sorry. I hope I didn’t scare you.” She sighed and crouched down to retrieve her clipboard and froze.

  As Conor helped one of the men up, his sock-covered heel lifted out of his sneaker and she saw the corner of a plastic bag.

  Dropping her hand down to her side, she released the strap holding her sidearm in its holster. “Conor, stop.”

  He stopped cold where he was, keeping a grip on the man he was holding.

  Miranda stood up as she cleared her gun from the holster and pointed it at the man in question. “Take your right foot out of your sneaker and set it down in the grass.”

  Trace was at her side in a moment. “What’s wrong?”

  She lifted her chin in the direction of the abandoned shoe. “Look in it.”

  He walked over to the shoe and picked it up. One quick look was all it took before he stood and showed it to Conor.

  The two men spoke for a moment before Trace walked the shoe over to her and set it on the tailgate. Then he turned back and looked at the assembled group. “All right. We went through this before, but apparently some of y’all think we were joking. We gave you the opportunity to come clean, but everyone swore that besides the doe in the truck, the shot you took into the woods was it.” He gave Miranda a quick look and she saw the approval in his eyes. “Now, I see that we were too quick to trust. So, now, we’re going to search each and every one of you and see what else, y’all are hiding.”

  “I want her to search me.”

  Miranda didn’t even have to look to see who had spoken, and she didn’t want to. She was busy watching Trace. Even in profile she could see his mood clearly. He’d gone from all business to a short fuse.

  Sure, he’d always been protective of her on the job, but he was protective of everyone. That’s just what folks do when their lives could be on the line at any moment, they take care of each other.

  But it didn’t take a genius to see that he was mad about the comment.

  “Trace, it’s okay.”

  He was silent beside her for a moment. “I’ll let Conor deal with him.”

  “Good idea.” She smiled and gave him a little nod. “You need me to cover?”

  Trace looked at her for just a second, before he turned his gaze back on the group. “I sure do miss having you around.”

  And then he was moving, lifting his hand to his radio, calling in for assistance.

  It was hours later when they finished the paperwork on the arrests and clocked out at the station. Trace and Conor left at the same time, but it was the difference between them that got him like a sucker punch to his gut.

  Conor gave him a wave and jumped into his car, eager to head home and see his wife.

  And Trace?

  There were a couple of choices for microwave meals in his freezer, a beer or two in the fridge, or a game on television. He opened his truck and slid into the driver’s seat before he’d realized what he’d done.

  The truck started up like a dream. It always did. He spent enough time working on it.

  He spent a lot of time doing a lot of things.

  By himself.

  Sure, there were community events, but he usually attended as a representative of the service and family events with the other wardens and their families.

  His mom and dad had moved over to Santa Fe for the summers and Tucson in the winters, moving their RV back and forth as the mood struck them. And his sister lived in Salt Lake City with a passel of kids. None of which had any interest in wildlife.

  He had no reason to rush home like Conor.

  And good for him, Trace reasoned, his partner was in the prime of his life. The perfect time to start a family.

  Something that Trace had always figured would happen for him… someday.

  With a huff of frustration, Trace put his truck in drive and headed across the lot to the street. There was a single car on the road to contend with and once it passed, Trace was on the road, timed just under the speed limit as he went. He had less than an hour to get home and based on the time, there might be a chance that he’d find someplace open that would be able to serve him a hot meal.

  Something that didn’t involve burning his fingers on the frozen dinner container? That sounded like heaven.

  Heading for the nearest highway onramp he was startled when his phone rang.

  A quick look told him who was calling, and he pulled over onto the shoulder to answer.

  If it had been Conor, he would have left it for later. Swiping to answer the call, he held the phone up to his ear. “Everything okay?”

  Her laugh was a relief. “Yeah, of course,” she sighed and he could almost imagine her curled up on the couch, rolling her eyes at him, “I just thought I’d call.”

  He liked that idea, a lot. Leaning back against his seat, he smiled. “How is your patient?”

  “Settled in. It’s too late to call Jun back to look at her, but I don’t think there’s any real damage. Our girl was really lucky.”

  Our girl.

  “Good,” he didn’t know what else to say, “that’s good.” Real smooth.

  “Are you busy?”

  Tell her yes. He swallowed and struggled to come up with an answer.

  “Trace? You still there?”

  “Yeah,” he answered and stumbled over the barely formed excuses that he wanted to give her. “I’m still here.”

  “Good.”

  He could hear her smiling. She was so damn beautiful.

  “If you’re tired, that’s fine,” she gave him an excuse to use, and might as well have gift wrapped it for him, “but I was just thinking that I’m closer than your place. So, if you’re hungry… I could make something.”

  His stomach picked that moment to growl. He should go straight home.

  He really should.

  That would be the smart move.

  It would be.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he told her, “I could eat.”

  Sighing sweetly into his ear she answered back. “You show me a game warden who isn’t hungry after shift and I’ll show you a liar. Come on over, Trace. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty.”

  “Oh, you are close,” he could hear a door opening, like a cabinet or a pantry door, “it might not be ready when you get here.”

  “I don’t mind waiting, it’ll be good to see you.”

  He couldn’t stop himself, the words just poured out. It was up to her to laugh it off or make fun of his thoughts.

  “I know we just saw each other,” she reminded him, “but I was already missing you, Trace. That’s why I called. So, if you’re willing to wait a little to eat, I’m planning on feeding you, so come home.”

  The call ended a moment later, but it took him a couple of minutes to gather himself together.

  Twice he started to call her back and make his excuses, but he just couldn’t seem to do it.

  Earlier, when she’d been onsite to take possession of the deer, he’d seen the looks that some of the men had given her. He was doing his job, taking care of things, but the instant she’d come on scene he had one part of his mind on the job and the other part on her.

  Maybe it was because she wasn’t wearing the uniform. Maybe it was because she didn’t have her hair pulled tightly back from her face. In her normal, non-issue clothes she’d looked like she was ready to get home and relax and he’d wanted to get her there and stand guard over her.

  Those men that saw her didn’t see her as a game warden, and they certainly didn’t like it when she held them at gunpoint.

  It had been the right thing to do. She wasn’t just a civilian with an itchy trigger finger, she was a highly trained officer trained to do the same job as a police officer and protect the animals and natural resources of Texas.

  He knew she’d left okay, because by the time she had been
ready to go Deputy Hayden Hatcher and her new partner Jake McGowan had been on scene.

  Exiting the highway, he turned onto a side road that lead toward Miranda’s neighborhood and found himself pulling into her drive just about twenty minutes later.

  He had one hand on the door when she called out. “It’s open! Come on in!”

  When he swung the door open, he stopped in the doorway. “You left the door unlocked?”

  She turned to look at him from the stove and gave him a bit of a smile. “How did I know you were going to say that?”

  “How did you… Miranda, I can’t believe-”

  “Just how wound up you got thinking I’d left the door unlocked?”

  He stared at her as she turned away to peer into the top of a little appliance on the counter. “Of course, I would,” he explained, “it’s just not safe.”

  Shaking her head, she brushed her hair back over her shoulders. “Of course, it’s not, that’s why I opened it right before you got to the door. I’m waiting for the rice cooker to pop so I can let out some of the steam.”

  “Rice cooker?” Wincing a little, he leaned to the side to look at what she had on the stove. “What are you makin’?”

  “Something quick and satisfying for a late-night meal.” She turned and almost bumped her hands into him as she held them out, her forearms side by side. “If you don’t like it, you can cuff me and take me in.”

  This was why he should have said no.

  “I have no plans to cuff you.”

  She looked down at her bare wrists and then back up into his face. “Pity.”

  Miranda turned away and picked up her spatula, moving the contents of the pan around in quick, easy movements.

  “If you want to leave, now’s the time. Otherwise, go ahead and lock the door, bossy. Then you can hang up your jacket and take a seat.”

  He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips. “Now who’s bossy?”

  Her outraged gasp only made his smile widen.

  “What did you just say?”

  “Me?” Trace held up his hands. “Nothin’.”

  She wagged her spatula at him. “That’s what I thought.”

  When she turned back to the stove, he clicked the lock with more than an extra ounce of satisfaction before he shrugged off his jacket and placed it on a hook beside the door.

  He took a moment to turn around, looking at the room from the side door. “Was the kitchen this big before you moved in?”

  Miranda paused at the stove, thinking. “Is this the first time you’ve been inside?”

  Thinking back on their time together while she had been on the job, he shook his head. “No. I think I’ve been to your parents’ house for functions, but here-”

  “You know,” she sighed as she turned off the burner, “you’re right. I think it’s because I’m so used to seeing you around.” She turned to open a cupboard and when she turned back around, she was carrying two plates in her hands. “But you knew where I was…”

  “I came to help build some of the enclosures for your animals.”

  She set down a plate before him and he heard the earthenware plate touch down on the tabletop. “So, you came to help us with the rehabilitation center, but you didn’t come into the house?”

  Miranda set down the second plate and he tried to get his heartbeat to settle a bit when she placed it beside him. Had she placed it on the opposite end of the counter it would have been farther away.

  “Soda? Water?”

  He shook himself and realized he hadn’t answered her earlier question but took care of what was at hand. “Water’s great, thanks.”

  She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Were you afraid that the house was too messy?”

  Glasses came down from a cupboard and the refrigerator door opened.

  “No, I wasn’t worried about the house, it was just… it seemed a little personal.”

  She paused after pouring the first glass of water, and then poured the second after she managed to fight back a smile. “It wasn’t like you were going into my bedroom, Trace. A house is just-”

  “This isn’t just a house, Miranda.” He could almost feel her hesitation trembling in the air. “It’s your house.”

  She nodded as if she understood, but her brow was pinched above her nose. Confused.

  “Coming in here tonight, I knew how hard it was going to be.” He stood up and his legs pushed back the counter stool he’d been sitting on. “It’s because there are nights when I sit at home and I think of you.” Trace felt a muscle tick in his jaw. Felt his forehead heat and the humidity start to bead on his skin. “I think of you in my kitchen, in the living room,” he had made his way around the counter and tried to take the utensils from her hand, “and I think of you in my bedroom.”

  She took a step back, her eyes fixed on his. “Why?”

  “Why do I think of you in my place?”

  Her lips parted on a soft gasp. “Yeah. I want to know.”

  He closed his eyes and took a breath to settle himself. “I keep saying I’m not go to tell you these things.” Trace shook his head. “I get around you and I start to lose my control.”

  Trace heard her laugh and opened his eyes.

  “Laughing at me?”

  “What else do you want me to do?” She looked at him with a big smile and took another step back bumping into the counter. “You’ve got me all flustered, Trace, isn’t it fair that I return the favor?”

  “You know exactly what you’re doing.” He took a step closer but kept space between them. “And it’s not fair, not in the least.”

  Her manner changed, her gaze dropped down toward the floor as her shoulders slumped. “Fair or not, I’m obviously not doing a good enough job of whatever it is. You get close, Trace. You come so damn close to me and then you back off. You give me a kiss that makes me weak in the knees and hot everywhere else and then you tell me it’s a mistake.

  “I don’t know how to hold your attention. I can’t even seem to get you to answer a damn question.”

  She pushed past him and set the utensils down on the table between their plates but picked up one of the napkins and walked out of the kitchen heading for the stairs.

  “Hey!” Trace ducked around the counter and started after her. “Where are you going?”

  Dashing up the stairs, he had no choice but to follow her. He wasn’t going to leave when he’d made her upset. What he’d done he’d have to fix, somehow.

  He turned to follow her at the top of the stairs and half expected her to slam the door behind her. When she didn’t, he knew he had a hope that she’d listen to him, since she hadn’t tried to shut him out.

  Following her into her room he stopped when she grabbed the waist of her loose pants and pushed the garment down past her hips.

  Trace almost spoke but the sight of her purple boy shorts under her black tank top shut him up. Stunned, he didn’t move from the spot.

  She gave him a look over her shoulder as she stalked into the bathroom. “Huh,” she barely moved her lips from the thin line they were set in, “I would have thought you’d run for the hills.”

  What was he going to say to that?

  He certainly deserved them.

  He waited there as he heard the water turn on and off a few times. A soft clatter of sound made him think of a toothbrush dropped into a holder. Another surge of water and then the light went off.

  Miranda came out of the bathroom scrubbing a face towel over her eyes and then down to her neck. When she was done, she tossed it into the darkness and the soft wet smack said she’d found a hard surface with the throw.

  She didn’t stop until she was at the foot of the bed. Her fingertips didn’t quite reach the surface of the comforter, but it didn’t stop her from trying to reach for it, her fingers moving restlessly. “You can go ahead and eat,” her voice was thinner than it normally was, “if you don’t want the rice, don’t eat it. I can use it in the morning.”

  She d
idn’t wait for an answer, not that she’d asked for one. Pulling back the comforter she climbed onto the bed. “You can go ahead and let yourself out when you’re done.”

  Miranda sounded… done.

  And he really didn’t blame her.

  He tried to think of something to say that would make a difference, but he didn’t think she was ready to hear him at that very moment.

  He didn’t want her to think he was just saying something to get out of the doghouse.

  But he had to say something so she didn’t completely shut him out.

  So, he went with the first thing that came to his mind. A ‘Hail Mary’ pass of the worst kind.

  “So, if I let myself out, how am I going to set the lock?”

  Silence came back at him.

  “And you know how I am about those locks.”

  Her eyes slid closed and she shook her head. “You and the damn locks.” She pulled the comforter up over her knees and leaned back against the headboard. “Then I guess you’re stuck, because I’m not going back downstairs. I’m going to sleep.”

  Trace couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips, it just wasn’t possible.

  It earned him a glare, but there was a little bit of a twist at the corners of her mouth. “What are you laughing about?”

  “It’s a nervous laugh, sorry. I’m not trying to get you angry.”

  That got her smile a little brighter. “You’re the one who trained me. You know I could toss you out of my window if I wanted to.”

  The look she gave him was pure challenge and it felt like a hit square in his gut. She kept him on his toes.

  And he loved every minute of it.

  “Point taken.” He gestured at the foot of the bed. “Can I sit?”

  Miranda leaned her elbows on her knees. “Can you?”

  He laughed outright. He’d heard Mama Jimenez correct both Miranda and her father a few times over the years. “May I sit?”

  She gestured at the foot of the bed. “As long as you remember that I can shove you off, go ahead.”