The Fractured Texas Ranger (Texas Heat: The Heart of a Texas Ranger #2)

Chapter One

He peered through the binoculars into the office windows of Leo Davani, the criminal attorney who Dean “Hawkeye” Hawk had been watching for weeks. He needed information that would lead to the person, or people, who ordered the hit on the Texas Heat recon team six months ago.

Hawkeye thought it would be easier to put Davani in a room and force him to crack, but under orders from Sharp Creed to do things with the energy of a church mouse and not an elephant, Hawkeye had bottled himself up in the hotel room going stir crazy surveilling a guy who had been getting thugs out of prison sentences for years.

Davani sat at his desk skimming a document, rubbing his forehead as if what he was reading made him tense. He picked up his cell phone and pressed it to his ear. Soon he was pacing and his mouth thinning into a straight line. Anger made his face twist into something unrecognizable.

After a lengthy amount of time listening, he clenched his jaw and hurled the phone against the wall.

He swiped up the documents spread out on his desk and went to the safe he kept behind a cheap painting hanging on the wall.

He shoved the papers inside and took out something, staring at it, before he placed it inside his pocket.

The office door swung open and his assistant stepped inside, pausing to retrieve his phone from the floor.

They chatted briefly, leaving Davani exasperated and shaking his head.

He was momentarily sidetracked by Catarina tangling her fingers in the ends of his hair.

He jerked away, pointing his finger at her.

They traded a few terse words before he moved past her.

She followed him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He swiveled and the harshness in his gaze faded.

She started unbuttoning her blouse while she stared up with doe eyes, slowly grinding her hips as if there might be music playing in the office.

She had his undivided attention. When only her matching black bra and panties were left on, he smiled… no, it was more of a cunning grin.

She’d revved his engine because he reached up and clutched a handful of her long hair with enough force that her head tilted back, forcing her to look up at him.

Her pouty mouth curved into satisfaction.

The two shifted, facing the window, as he guided her to the desk to lean her over the polished mahogany.

Catarina licked her lips and laughed when Davani slapped her ass. The bastard loved the infliction of pain and control.

Hawkeye tightened his grip on the binoculars until he heard the plastic crack.

He wanted to ram his fist down Davani’s throat.

Inhaling deeply to calm his anger, Hawkeye reminded himself that in good time Davani would get what he deserved.

Men like him lived in a bubble of pleasure. They used everyone and anyone.

In the last four weeks Hawkeye had learned a lot about Davani through the peephole of his office window.

He spent hours in his office, then worked out in the gym every day, and on occasion visited the titty-bar where he liked the VIP section particularly well.

The first few times Hawkeye had gone inside, found a place in the dark corner and watched Davani salivate over the scantily clad women.

He wasn’t there to meet anyone, just to have private lap dances and get his rocks off, so Hawkeye stayed outside waiting to not risk blowing his cover.

Things were stagnant, to say the least. Not only was Davani not meeting any of his clients, but he also wasn’t meeting new ones either, which seemed a little odd. Hawkeye didn’t have much information to take back to the team and he was losing hope that he’d get anything.

When Davani unzipped his pants, Hawkeye laid the binoculars down to take a break. He had no desire to watch the scene across the street.

Pouring himself some of the nasty hotel coffee into a paper cup, he grabbed a handful of chips from the open bag, then dropped down onto the springy mattress. Restless energy boiled over in him.

The whole surveillance thing was getting old. It was a lot like watching a turtle cross the finish line.

Resting his eyes, he nearly fell asleep when a thought brought him up to his feet. He remembered something important.

Picking up the binoculars, he looked into the office. Catarina was already dressed, and it looked like she and her lover were having another heated discussion. She was probably complaining to Davani that he was a two-pump-chump with a little dick.

Hawkeye snorted.

She stormed out and a few minutes later Davani grabbed his briefcase, gym bag, then shut off the lights and left too.

Leaving the door to the safe open.

This made Hawkeye’s day.

He pulled his laptop out from under the bed.

The screen came on, and he clicked a few keys that brought up the tracking map.

He’d placed the device in Davani’s briefcase, along with a second in his gym bag, the first day in San Antonio.

It had been as easy as taking candy from a baby.

So easily that Hawkeye had become too comfortable.

For a man like Davani who had built his career on getting scum out of sticky situations he certainly didn’t manage his life very well.

Most of the time he forgot to set the security alarm in the office.

When Davani’s location pinged at the gym, Hawkeye knew he had a window frame of two hours.

Dragging his backpack out, he shoved the laptop inside and hooked the Do Not Disturb sign on the door as he left.

It felt good to get out of the room. He’d been holed up all day.

Since the team had regrouped and were working the Creed’s Creek Ranch as a cover, he’d become accustomed to hard labor to keep busy.

After the ambush on the street by Silver’s thugs, he’d been a bit rattled.

A bit? More like being plagued by sleepless nights and nightmares.

He’d taken a bullet in his shoulder that had done some damage, and he’d healed, mostly.

Outside of the star-shaped scar the only wounds that remained were those in his mind.

He was no stranger to dangerous situations but taking a bullet on friendly soil could make a man unsettled.

He found himself looking over his shoulder often.

Hell, he’d get over the anxiety eventually.

Nothing that time couldn’t fix. Back at the ranch he found comfort in working with his hands and his nights spent sitting by the creek ruminating over the day. He called it “creekside church”.

Many of the team members knew a lot about ranching because they grew up taking care of livestock and horses.

However, Hawkeye didn’t grow up in Texas or on a ranch.

He’d been living in Colorado before he joined the Navy right out of high school and then joined the Texas Rangers.

Soon after he was brought into the covert ops team working alongside many of the men who he considered brothers.

Now he was working with them at the ranch.

The circle of life. They’d taught him what he needed to know about ranching and how to withstand the hard work.

Their mission was to find the mole in the agency who ordered the hit on Texas Heat.

They knew Silver, a kingpin who’d been recently convicted and was serving time in a super max federal prison on drug trafficking charges, had played a role in the ambush, but someone in the bureau had conspired with Silver.

It was only a matter of time before they were discovered. The team just needed one name.

That was where Davani played a key role. He was Silver’s attorney and if anyone knew anything Davani was the man.

Downtown San Antonio thrived on tourism so when Hawkeye stepped onto the crowded sidewalk, he instantly felt his instincts alert. He was completely out of his comfort zone here. He loved wide-open spaces where he didn’t rub elbows with strangers.

Threading through the human traffic, he stopped for a moment to get his bearings and felt a tight grip on his bicep. He jerked his attention onto the woman standing outside of the strip club, and obviously by her dress, her job was to lure men in.

“Hi, handsome. You look like you could use a good time.” The woman’s rose-colored sequined dress had a low-cut front that showed off her large breasts.

She tilted a flared hip and gave her long lashes a flirtatious bat as she planted her wide brown eyes on Hawkeye.

She was pretty but nothing deterred him from his mission.

Not even big tits. “Wha’dya say, cowboy?

” The tip of her tongue followed the plush curve of her lip.

“Sorry, ma’am. I’m tied up.” He thought that would be enough to convince her to move on.

“Ohh, believe me…I’d love to tie you up.

” Her gaze was audacious and wild, surrounded by a thick fringe of eyelashes.

She had a seductive power that could persuade men into the club to spend money.

She appraised him with a knowing smirk, an invitation in her eyes.

She tapped her long taloned nails up his arm and paused at his shoulder, squeezing.

“I bet I know what you like, big boy,” she purred then rolled her hips suggestively.

“Maybe next time.” It was an empty promise for “next time” but hell she was just doing her job. He dipped his hat and began his path toward Davani’s office.

Stepping into the shadows of the entryway of the building, Hawkeye worked quickly to pick the lock to Davani’s office.

After spending so much time watching, Hawkeye knew the layout of the office space.

Breaking in was breaching the orders, but as far as he could see it, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity of an open safe door.

What was inside could make or break the case.

Whatever Davani had inside that safe held some importance.

He felt confident that he could get in and out without anyone being none the wiser.

Hawkeye made his way quietly through the front office and into the back room.

He dropped his bag to the floor, fished out a headlamp and situated it onto his head.

At the safe, he thumbed through the stack of papers Davani had placed there that evening but found nothing of use.

They appeared to be a breaking and entering case.

Hawkeye snapped photos, but his patience started to give. He felt like he was being toyed with.

On the second shelf he found an entire series of porn videos titled “Barely Eighteen”.

Sick fuck.

Passing the videos, Hawkeye came to a thick envelope marked, Margo.

The name was familiar. During his investigation into Davani’s past, Hawkeye had uncovered an ex-girlfriend, Margo Winnfield. They dated briefly, but nothing of importance. She was just some writer who lived a quiet life.

Lifting the flap on the wrinkled envelope, he took out the contents—a stack of pictures taken of the “quiet writer”.

In some she wore sexy lingerie and in others she was completely nude.

Her long, raven hair cascaded over the pillow like a curtain and her body was relaxed.

She was sleeping peacefully, unaware that she was being photographed.

Maybe she was pretending to be sleeping?

No, it was obvious she wasn’t pretending.

The vulnerability in the photos made Hawkeye sick.

Davani was a bigger asshole than Hawkeye first thought. A dirty asshole.

Hawkeye slipped the pictures back inside the envelope and started to put it back into the safe but stopped.

For protocol’s sake he knew he shouldn’t take them.

It was too risky to take anything. However, the right thing to do was take the photos and destroy them.

That was the least he could do to save the woman some dignity.

If Davani was arrested the pictures would end up in an evidence locker after being passed around.

Hawkeye wouldn’t say he had a softer side, but he did consider himself a gentleman.

He shoved the pictures into his bag along with the headlamp.

The safe was a disappointment.

His watch vibrated. Davani was on the move. He’d changed plans and left the gym early, but he wasn’t coming in the direction of the office. He headed west.

Hawkeye snuck out of the office and mingled into the crowd on the sidewalk, following Davani’s tracks on the GPS.