Chapter 25 #2
His dad watched him, methodical and precise, processing the facts like he always did. “Is she the nontraditional assistance I read about in the paper?”
Coop’s jaw flexed. Even as a teenager, he’d never been able to slip anything past his father. “Yeah. She’s a source.”
Ray’s brows lifted. “You think it’s wise to date a source? A potential witness?”
“It happened before everything blew open,” he said. “Before it turned into a case inside a case. And it’s too late now.”
“You’re hooked, huh?”
“Line and sinker.”
The judge stared at him for a long moment, the kind of look that made attorneys squirm and had him, as a teenager, confessing to things he’d only thought. “You haven’t gotten where you are by being reckless. I trust you to do what’s right. By her. And by the law.”
Coop’s chest eased, not with relief, exactly, but alignment.
He flipped another burger. “She seems steady. Stronger than she looks.”
“She’s both.”
Ray gave him a sidelong glance, his mouth curving slightly. “Good. You’ve been alone too long. It’s about time.”
“Burgers are done,” Coop said, ready with the platter and a topic change.
His dad chuckled as he piled them on, still sizzling and perfectly done. “Take these over. And try not to hover. You’ll scare her off.”
Coop thought of her at the homicide scene, the cabin in the dead of night, and with Gruzinsky—vulnerable but iron-willed. He shook his head. “Not likely.”
***
Erica lingered near the edge of the patio, sipping her iced tea and watching father and son at the grill. There was an ease between them, both quiet and familiar. A shared history.
Ray had glanced her way twice now. She didn’t need to be psychic to guess what, or rather who, was the topic of conversation.
She didn’t want to consider what an educated, powerful, worldly man like the judge would think of her story, so she didn’t. Instead, she focused on Vince in his dark swim trunks and a molded-on charcoal-gray T-shirt. Handsome and fit, with absolutely no dad bod.
But he was so much more than that. Capable. Considerate. She wished she had a thimbleful of his confidence.
Her nerves weren’t about dinner with his family. They seemed wonderful. It was what came after.
She rarely swam; pools were too crowded and unpredictable. One accidental brush against the wrong person and she could end up drowning, literally, in someone else’s emotions. Being resuscitated by a lifeguard or a helpful stranger wasn’t on her bingo card this century—or ever.
“Would you mind helping me carry things out, dear?” Margie said from the back door.
“Not at all.” Grateful for something to do other than think and worry, she followed her inside.
The kitchen table was covered with bowls and platters: burger fixings, chips, and three kinds of salads. Nothing fancy, and it made her stomach growl.
“This looks wonderful, Mrs. Cooper.”
“Margie, dear,” she reminded her gently, glancing out the window at the sound of a car engine and country music blaring. “That’ll be Tasha.”
Together, they carried everything outside right as the grown-up little girl from the picture on Vince’s dresser came around the corner. Tall, confident, and athletic, she had her father’s sandy-blonde hair and easy grin.
Caleb followed. Polished. Clean-cut. Slightly tense, and in a shirt and tie, way overdressed.
They approached the patio.
“Dad!” Tasha said, hugging him like she hadn’t seen him in a while.
He smiled in a way Erica hadn’t seen before, like the sun rose and set on his daughter.
Caleb extended his hand. “Mr. Cooper. Good to see you again.”
Vince took it and shook it once. “Caleb. Is that your Porsche?”
All eyes shifted to the bright red convertible in the drive.
“Yes, sir,” he said with a mix of pride and hesitance.
“And you’re driving her home?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Keep it under seventy,” he said firmly, not in Ranger mode but a father setting boundaries.
“Dad,” Tasha groaned.
“Always, sir,” Caleb replied, a little too quickly.
Erica sensed something off, but nothing was setting off alarms just yet.
She watched him when he thought no one was looking. His smile slipped a second too soon, taking inventory of the house, the pool, and the view with purpose. Not appreciating so much as calculating what it would take to be there.
His daughter turned to her. “I’m Natasha, but everyone calls me Tash, or Tasha. You’re Erica. I’ve heard about you.” She caught her dad’s warning look and grinned. “Only good things.”
“Supper is ready. Everyone, sit,” the judge called.
Dinner flowed easily. Margie poured wine. The burgers were perfectly seasoned and juicy, and everyone praised them. Ray smiled, unsurprised. The man clearly took pride in his grill mastery.
The interplay between father and daughter mesmerized her. Vince’s entire face brightened. The way a man looks at the one person who has owned his heart since birth. Tasha leaned into him with the unshakable certainty of someone who was loved.
Caleb, on the other hand, grated on her nerves. It wasn’t a vision or a feeling. She found him annoying. He interrupted with random factoids about himself and asked too many questions about Vince’s job.
“How often do you travel?”
“Do you ever get pulled into federal cases?”
Many were directed at Judge Cooper. “Do any of Lieutenant Cooper’s cases make it to your bench?”
If he was aiming for subtlety, he completely overshot the mark.
Vince noticed too. His shoulders tensed each time Caleb spoke, which was a lot.
When the plates were cleared, Margie waved off Erica’s offer to help. “You’re a guest. Sit. Relax.”
Watching her practically run into the house, she suspected Mrs. Cooper was escaping, like everyone else probably wanted to.
Ray poured himself an after-dinner drink and settled into a patio chair.
Tasha stood and kicked off her sandals. “Pool?”
Caleb was already unbuttoning his cuffs like he’d been waiting for permission.
Vince glanced at her, brows raised.
“Aren’t we supposed to wait half an hour?” she hedged.
Ray chuckled. “Old wives’ tale. If you get a cramp, Vince will save you. When he wasn’t playing tight end, he was captain of the swim team in high school.”
“Is that so?” She looked at him, imagining him as a teen: tall, lanky, and competitive.
“What do you say?” he asked.
“Come on, Erica!” Tasha called.
“Maybe she can’t swim,” Margie said, returning with a tall glass of iced tea and taking a seat next to her husband.
They all looked at her expectantly.
“I grew up in Galveston,” she said, rising. “I learned to swim in the bay and practically lived in the water during the summers.”
She slipped the cover-up off her shoulders. The black one-piece was shirred through the middle, had wide straps, and a short, attached skirt that still showed most of her thighs. The only hint of sexiness was the dip in the sweetheart neckline.
Vince’s gaze traveled from her shoulders to her hips. “That’s your idea of a modest one-piece?”
She looked down at herself then up at him. “Yes. Notice the skirt?”
“I notice everything.”
Her cheeks warmed. She glanced over at his parents. Ray had absolutely heard and hid a grin behind his wineglass. Margie brushed imaginary lint off her shorts, pretending not to notice.
Erica ignored them all and walked down the steps into the pool. The water was warm from the day’s heat but cooler than the air, enough to be refreshing as it rose along her legs.
Vince followed with less reserve, jack-knifing into the deep end with a towering splash.
“Don’t get the old people wet!” Margie called.
“Who are you calling old?” Ray protested.
Tasha and Caleb dove after the rings at the bottom of the pool.
Vince paddled toward her. Before he reached her, she pushed off and swam. He trailed her, stopping when she did to tread water.
His hands settled lightly at her waist beneath the surface.
“You’re trouble,” she murmured.
“That’s my name. Vincent Big Trouble Cooper.”
Caleb and Tasha were racing; she beat him by half a body length, and when she turned to receive her congratulations or teasingly gloat, he had paddled over to Vince.
Tasha frowned at him when he launched into another series of questions.
Erica floated back a little, watching.
“So, when cases cross state lines,” Caleb asked casually, “who takes the lead? Rangers or the feds?”
His expression didn’t change. “Depends on the case. Why do you ask?”
“I’m considering field placements for next term,” Caleb replied. “And clerkships down the road.”
Ray froze, staring into his drink.
Margie paused mid-sip.
Tasha rolled her eyes. “Caleb, you already interrogated Dad at dinner.”
“I’m just curious.”
“Curiosity’s good,” he stated evenly. “But timing matters.”
Caleb had enough grace to flush. “Sorry, sir.”
Tasha splashed him in retaliation. “Come swim, CIT.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Counselor in training.”
He laughed and turned his attention to her again.
Vince floated over to her, pulled her against him, and spoke in her ear. “You got a read on this kid?”
“Nothing you haven’t noticed. He’s more interested in you and the judge than Tasha.” She looked at the younger man, trying to figure him out. “He’s pre-law. Maybe it’s natural curiosity.”
“It had better be. If he’s angling for favors, he’s going about it wrong. You don’t win by using your target’s daughter or granddaughter.”
“He’s probably nervous and trying too hard. With a Ranger and a federal judge sizing him up, who wouldn’t be?”
“Hmm,” he grunted, still suspicious.
“How about a game of volleyball?” Tasha called. “Mixed teams. Us against you guys.”
His fingers flexed on her waist. “You game, darlin’?”
“As long as you’re prepared to lose. It’s been years since I’ve played, and I was never very good.”
“It’s a friendly game,” he assured her. “We don’t keep score.”
Tasha got a ball out of the storage box, and the guys strung the net.