Blame It on Texas (13 page)

She recalled Tyler saying something about Tony, LeAnn’s husband, and his brother.

LeAnn tossed a warm smile toward the last one to walk into the room. Zoe got the feeling that was LeAnn’s husband, Tony.

“Does she need to go to the hospital?” Tony asked LeAnn.

“Nah,” answered Tyler, the same time Zoe chimed in with the same answer.

LeAnn started to introduce them when an older man, who looked like the two younger men, pushed his way into the room. The brothers moved around to accommodate the growing crowd. And the crowd kept growing—two blond women in their late twenties, an older lady, probably well into her sixties if not beyond, and a young African American man who looked all of eighteen joined the group. The room was big, but with this horde of people it felt small, and Zoe felt as if she was on center stage in a crowd of strangers.

Zoe wasn’t shy, but with everyone staring at her, she got a nervous tickle in her stomach that reminded her how she’d felt the first days of teaching. Though she had to admit these people were a tad scarier than a room full of five-year-olds. And she didn’t think singing “Bunny Foo Foo” would put everyone at ease.

Her gaze again shifted to Tyler, the one familiar person in the room. She could swear she saw an apology in his eyes. Did he know she felt ready to jump out of her skin?

Tyler’s frowned deepened. “Maybe we should introduce—”

“She does look like Nancy,” the older man interrupted.

Zoe’s breath caught. Did he know about the Bradfords? Did everyone?

“What?” the youngest of the men in the room asked. “You think she looks like me?”

“Not you, Eddie. I said she looks like Nancy, not Nance.”

“Nancy who?” asked the older woman, telling Zoe that not everyone knew.

“Nancy Bradford,” the old man answered. “She thinks she’s the kid who went missing all those years ago.”

Zoe bit down on her lip. Well, they knew now.

“Hey,” Tyler started to talk again, but was cut off by the older woman.

“Wasn’t that kid found dead?” The older woman looked at Zoe with sympathy. “Sorry. I mean, you’re obviously not dead.”

“Nana,” one of the blondes said. “We’re being rude.”

“She looks pretty good for a dead person,” the one named Eddie said with a snicker.

Insecurities built in Zoe’s chest. Was everyone going to think she was a few fries short of a Happy Meal? She hadn’t been ready to announce this to the world. She’d told Tyler, but…

LeAnn looked at Zoe. “Nikki’s right. We’re being rude. Normally, we behave ourselves. But first let me finish this.” She smiled and then looked back at Zoe’s wound. “This might sting,” LeAnn said as she dabbed some cream on Zoe’s wound.

What stung more was realizing that everyone knew her
best-kept secret and were probably thinking she needed to rush over to the nearest mental institute and commit herself. She looked at Tyler again.

Her emotions must have been apparent because the apology in his eyes seemed more prevalent.

“Look,” Tyler said, louder this time. He glanced at the crowd. “We’d kind of like it if the whole Bradford thing didn’t leak out right now.”

“He’s right,” the brother who Zoe thought was named Dallas said. “This doesn’t get repeated.”

“Not a word,” said the older man.

“Lips sealed,” said the old lady.

Eddie spoke up next. “Would it be rude for me to ask exactly what the Bradford thing is so I’ll know what I’m not supposed to leak out?”

“I’d like to know, too,” said an unfamiliar male voice at the door. Everyone looked up as another man walked in the room.

“Shit,” Tyler said, frowning harder.

“Rick? What the hell?” Tony said. “I thought you had to work. Your lazy ass just didn’t want to help me move my dad!”

Zoe’s eyes moved from one person to the next, and she felt slightly relieved that everyone wasn’t focused on her anymore.

“No, I just got off. And part of the reason I’m here is to see if you could still use a hand.” Rick—Zoe assumed that was the newcomer’s name—moved into the crowded room. His gaze found Zoe’s, and everyone else in the room followed his lead. “The other reason is you,” he said. “You must be the mystery redhead everybody is talking about.”

Her stomach got that first-day-at-teaching quiver again. She opened her mouth to speak but decided to just nod instead. Everyone continued to stare at her, and she stopped feeling so much like a nervous teacher and more like a toad about to be dissected in a science class.

“Almost done,” said LeAnn, looking at Zoe with empathy. Zoe wasn’t sure if the empathy came from the wound, the situation, or the fact that the woman thought Zoe was about to be carted off to the loony bin.

“What happened to your arm?” Eddie asked Zoe.

LeAnn answered as she put a bandage on Zoe’s arm. “She got shot.”

“Shot?” Eddie looked at Tyler. “You didn’t shoot her, did you?”

“No,” Tyler said.

“But you didn’t protect her, and that’s almost as bad,” said the old man, and chuckled. “And you call yourself a good PI.”

“I told her to stay down,” Tyler said as if he didn’t appreciate the joke.

“He did tell me,” she said. They were her first words since the crowd had arrived, and everyone’s gazes shot back to her. “I was trying to protect him.”

“Someone has to,” the old man said, and everyone laughed.

Tyler’s frown deepened.

“Who shot you?” asked Rick, completely serious.

“We don’t know,” Tyler said.

“Why is it that bad shit is always happening to the people who hang around you guys?” asked the grandmother.

“You got that wrong,” Tyler said. “They come to us after bad shit happens.”

“And you guys fix it.” Eddie met Zoe’s gaze. “Whatever is going on, they’ll fix it. They saved my ass. And I’m not nearly as good looking as you are.” Everyone chuckled again.

Tony looked at Tyler. “I hope you guys reported the shooting.”

“Austin was calling it in when we left,” Tyler said.

“Would someone like to fill me in on what’s going on?” Rick asked.

She saw Tyler’s jaw clamp down, but he motioned for Rick to follow him out the door. Before he walked out, he glanced over his shoulder at Zoe as if to say he’d be right back. “Maybe someone could introduce themselves and stop treating her like she’s a science experiment?”

Funny how he’d practically used the same analogy she’d come up with.

“I’m sorry, we did storm in here,” said one of the blond women. “I’m Nikki, Dallas’s fiancée.” She nodded toward the other brother. “Dallas is one of Tyler’s partners. This is Ellen.” Nikki waved at the other blonde standing beside her. “She’s a friend and the new receptionist at the agency.”

Ellen smiled. Nikki continued to introduce everyone else. From Dallas’s brother, Tony, who was a homicide detective and LeAnn’s husband, and the brothers’ father Mr. O’Connor, to Nikki’s grandmother whom everyone called Nana, and Eddie Nance, who was a former client and now worked for Nikki in her art gallery.

Mentally trying to sort out who was who, she almost missed what Eddie said. “Did it hurt getting shot?”

“Not too terribly,” Zoe said.

“You barely feel a thing,” said Tony. He pulled the collar of his shirt back and showed off a scar. “I took one.”

“Barely felt it, my butt.” LeAnn snickered. “You were cussing like a sailor. You even threw a urinal at one doc.”

“Getting shot didn’t hurt. Letting you guys poke and prod me with needles was the killer.” A grin spread across Tony’s face. “But I mostly did it to just get your attention. Every time I misbehaved they sent you in to talk to me.” He looked at Zoe. “That’s when I met her. Getting shot was the best day of my life.”

“So does that mean getting puked on was the best day of Dallas’s life?” asked Mr. O’Connor, who snorted with laughter.

“It was.” Dallas hooked an arm around Nikki. “She was feeling a little green the first time I met her. One look at her and I wanted her heart. Instead she gave me everything in her stomach.”

Everyone laughed.

“But getting shot beats getting puked on,” said Tony. “You don’t even have a scar.”

“Please, that tiny scar you got is nothing,” said Dallas. “Look at this.” Dallas pulled up his jeans to show off a scar above his ankle. “Sixteen stitches.”

“You fell off a bicycle,” Tony countered.

“A scar’s a scar,” Dallas said. “Besides, you’re the one who pushed me off the bike.”

“A scar from a bullet trumps any other scar,” Tony said.

“Getting shot can’t be as bad as falling off of a roof and landing on a shovel,” the older O’Connor said, and pulled up the sleeve of his T-shirt. “Thirty stitches. To the bone.”

“I can beat that,” Eddie said. “I got gored by a Long Horn.” He pulled up his shirt and showed off a jagged scar on his abdomen. “Me and a couple friends of mine decided to play rodeo clowns. I don’t recommend it.”

“I’m glad he got you coming and not going, or I’d have had to cover my eyes,” said Nana.

“That’s nothing,” said Mr. O’Connor. He pulled up his shirt.

Zoe’s eyes moved from one scar to the next on various body parts, feeling as if she was trapped in some kind of a wacky sitcom.

LeAnn, still standing next to Zoe, rolled her eyes. “Men and their scars. Have you ever seen a woman show off her scars?”

“We hide them and buy expensive creams to make them fade away,” said Nikki.

“True.” Ellen, the other blonde, pressed a hand against her abdomen. She looked at the men in the crowd. “Believe me, if I wanted to, I could put all you men to shame.”

Zoe couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to Ellen.

“See, women don’t show off scars as if they are trophies.” LeAnn gave her husband a jab with her elbow.

“We earned these. What’s the use of getting a scar if we can’t brag a bit?” Tony leaned in and kissed his wife. “Besides, I thought you said it was sexy.”

“It is, but you don’t have to tell everyone.” LeAnn grinned.

Zoe realized that any thought of being judged by this group had vanished sometime between the laughter and the scar exhibit. How could they think she was the mental
one, when it was so obvious they were crazy? Nevertheless, even as over-the-top as all these people were, the shared camaraderie was so vibrant that her life seemed dull and a little lonely.

She watched Tony wrap his arm around his wife’s waist. Maybe a lot lonely, Zoe conceded. It had been a long time since she felt treasured, loved, even touched. Well, excluding her and Tyler’s little position tryout on the floor while being shot at.

“Hey,” Dallas said. “There’s pizza in the apartment if getting shot didn’t ruin your appetite.”

Zoe grinned. “Thanks, I always plan ahead. I ate right before I got shot.”

Tyler walked into the office. “What’s up?” he asked Rick.

“That’s what I want to know.” Rick dropped into a chair. “What’s the deal with the redhead?”

“Did you find something else out?” Tyler walked to the back of the room and opened a closet where he kept some extra clothes.

“I might have.”

“Like what?”

“Uh-uh,” Rick said. “You first.”

Tyler pulled off the bloody T-shirt and slipped on a clean blue tee. He heard laughter coming from down the hall, and he hoped it wasn’t at Zoe’s expense. The riffraff crowd that hung around here these days was great but could be a handful.

For a minute there, Zoe had looked like she’d wanted to bolt. He remembered that look on her face when he’d found her crouched behind his desk.

Tucking in his shirt, Tyler looked at Rick. “It doesn’t go any further.”

Rick nodded. Tyler sat down and told Rick everything, from the picture of a young Zoe that looked like Caroline Bradford to the picture of Nancy Bradford.

Rick shook his head. “Just because she looks like someone doesn’t mean—”

“Right,” Tyler interrupted. “Then you tell me why someone is shooting at her.”

Rick paused. “I see why you might be checking into it, but—”

“There you guys are.” Dallas walked into the office, followed by Tony. Dallas had three beers in his hands and passed one to Tyler and one to Rick. Tony had a folded piece of pizza in his hand and was busy eating.

Dallas glanced from Rick to Tyler. “What’s wrong?”

“I asked Rick to see if he could find anything out about Zoe’s visits to the Bradford place,” Tyler explained.

“And you got something?” Dallas leaned against his desk.

“I found her name and knew she drove a car with an Alabama license. But you got her.” Rick pulled the beer to his lips. “And she’s quite a prize.” He arched an eyebrow. “Is she single?”

Tyler frowned. “Keep your dick in your pants, would you?”

Rick grinned. “It is. I know because it moved when I looked at Red. But, hey, I don’t poach on another guy’s territory, so just tell me to back off and I’ll back off.”

“I thought you had something to tell me,” Tyler said. He didn’t want to defend his position on Zoe Adams. Especially when he hadn’t decided what that position
was. Was he interested in her? Hell, yeah, but considering he didn’t want anything serious—and would run from it if it came to that—he didn’t feel his position was worth defending.

Not yet anyway. Tyler got up and was almost out the door when he heard Rick’s comeback.

“I do have something,” Rick said. “The real question is, do you want to hear it or not?”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

T
YLER TURNED AND
faced Rick Clark. “Talk,” he said.

“Remember when I told you I mentioned the redhead to the head honcho of security and he said she just disappeared?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it seemed kind of strange that Windsor hadn’t run a check on her or anything. Then today I find out that Bradford’s daughter, Mrs. Daniels, had one of the guards who works for Glencoe PD follow Red—”

“Her name is Zoe,” Tyler cut in.

“Fine. Zoe. Anyway, Mrs. Daniels had the guy warn her off. Supposedly, Red—I mean, Zoe—was following Mr. Bradford’s limo.”

“So you’re saying Windsor lied?” Tyler said.

“I’m not sure. I guess Mrs. Daniels could have done this without telling Windsor. But why? As a matter of fact, I’m not sure why she’d get involved to start with.”