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  Praise for Peggy Moreland:

  “…overflowing with tender characters, emotional scenes and an intense, thrilling premise.”

  —Romantic Times on Groom of Fortune

  “Peggy Moreland deftly handles a sensitive subject, while adding mystery to this fine romance.”

  —Romantic Times on Her Lone Star Protector

  “…a charming tale with a wonderful cast of characters, great development and an engaging premise.”

  —Romantic Times on Millionaire Boss

  “For outstanding authenticity in western-influenced, Texas-based romances, one only has to look for the name Peggy Moreland on the cover.”

  —Sharon Galliger Chance

  Don’t miss Signature Select’s exciting series:

  The Fortunes of Texas: Reunion

  Starting in June 2005, get swept up in twelve new stories from your favorite family!

  COWBOY AT MIDNIGHT by Ann Major

  A BABY CHANGES EVERYTHING by Marie Ferrarella

  IN THE ARMS OF THE LAW by Peggy Moreland

  LONE STAR RANCHER by Laurie Paige

  THE GOOD DOCTOR by Karen Rose Smith

  THE DEBUTANTE by Elizabeth Bevarly

  KEEPING HER SAFE by Myrna Mackenzie

  THE LAW OF ATTRACTION by Kristi Gold

  ONCE A REBEL by Sheri WhiteFeather

  MILITARY MAN by Marie Ferrarella

  FORTUNE’S LEGACY by Maureen Child

  THE RECKONING by Christie Ridgway

  PEGGY MORELAND

  In the Arms of the Law

  Dear Reader,

  Writing is often a challenge, but never more so than when writing a continuity series with over a dozen other authors! Inevitably, there are facts to double-check, dates and time lines to coordinate and character traits to verify. But, oh, what fun it is to work with such a talented and creative group of ladies!

  Normally the heroes I write about are ranchers or cowboys and the women who steal their hearts, so writing about a police officer, who also happened to be a Native American, required quite a bit of research. I found the entire process fascinating and discovered along the way that law enforcement officers and Native Americans aren’t really all that different from my cowboys. Both groups represent men of integrity who are willing to fight for what they believe in, and who are prepared to defend those whom they love. What more could a woman ask for in a man?

  I hope you enjoy reading my contribution to THE FORTUNES OF TEXAS: REUNION series and sharing in Gabe Thunderhawk and Andrea Matthews’s romantic adventures as they find love. I hope, too, that you enjoy your vicarious visit to my home state of Texas, where romance is always waiting for you just around the next bend in the road.

  Best wishes,

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Bonus Features

  Prologue

  The glare of the midday sun and lack of wind had turned Lake Mondo into a mirror, its surface reflecting the cedars and outcropping of rocks that lined its shore. A long wooden dock—bleached a dull gray by weather and time—stretched out over the water and bobbed lazily in the slow-moving current. On any other day, swimmers and fishermen alike would be vying for position on the planked walkway, as well as along the lake’s shore. But today both the dock and the shoreline were empty…except for the lone body lying faceup beneath a white sheet.

  Yellow crime-scene tape sectioned off a large portion of the area surrounding the dock, holding back the curious and morbid who had gathered. The few officials allowed beyond the tape huddled in a loose group, their expressions grim, as they watched the police photographer digitally record the scene.

  Quickly assessing the area as she approached, Detective Andrea Matthews ducked beneath the tape and headed straight for the body. The stench that grew stronger with each step was her first clue that this wasn’t a recent drowning.

  In her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of Red Rock Police Officer Gabe Thunderhawk breaking away from the group and heading her way. She swallowed a groan when he stopped in front of her and braced his hands on his hips, successfully blocking her progress, as well as her view of the corpse. Since he had about five inches on her five foot seven inch frame, she was forced to look up at him, a form of intimidation she was sure he intended. Though he was as handsome as the devil himself and a lot easier to look at than a corpse, she had a job to do and wasn’t interested in getting into a verbal sparring match over who was in charge of this investigation, which was what she figured he had in mind.

  Hoping to avoid an altercation, she lifted her chin, indicating the body behind him. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a floater.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, then returned his gaze to hers. “Good deduction, Detective.”

  Though his expression remained bland, his sarcasm set her teeth on edge. Rather than respond to it, she stepped around him, planning to ignore him.

  He quickly shifted to block her way. “No need for you to concern yourself with this one. I’ve got everything under control.”

  At the end of her patience, she squared off with him. “You know damn good and well that when there’s a body involved, it’s my job to investigate it. Now, you can either assist in the investigation or get the hell out of my way, because I intend to do my job, with or without your cooperation.”

  He met her gaze a full ten seconds, making her think he was going to force the issue, but finally stepped aside.

  Pulling a mask from her blazer pocket, she nodded to the police photographer, before slipping it over her head to cover her nose and mouth. With her gaze on the body, she tugged on a pair of protective gloves and hunkered down beside it. Careful not to disturb any evidence, she lifted the sheet to expose the victim’s face. Finding him lying facedown, she dropped the sheet back over him.

  “Help me turn him over,” she instructed Gabe.

  Keeping the cover in place, they worked together to roll the victim to his back, then Andrea lifted the sheet again. Although this wasn’t the first drowning she’d investigated, she had to swallow back the nausea that burned the back of her throat. Blank eyes stared up at her from a bloated and distorted face. The victim’s skin, blanched a sickly blue-white, was pitted where bits of flesh were missing, probably due to predators he’d encountered during the time he’d spent in the water.

  There was also what appeared to be a bullet hole between his eyes.

  Aware that Gabe was watching for her reaction, she set her jaw and dropped the sheet back over the victim’s face. Pulling the mask down, she stood to face the officer. “So what have you got?”

  “Nine-one-one call came in about an hour ago. Placed by the fishing guide who found the body. The guy’s sitting in the back seat of my patrol car. Still pretty shook up.”

  She nodded grimly. “I would imagine he is.” Frowning, she circled the body, examining it from different angles. “Any ID?”

  “Checked his pockets. No wallet or any kind of ID, although I did notice what appears to be a birthmark on his hip. Looks like we’ve got a John Doe.”

  “The M.E.’s report will detail any identifying marks.” She stopped and hunkered down beside the body again, lifting the sheet away from the lower extremities. “He wasn’t dressed for fishing or swimming,” she commented, noting the slacks he wore.

  “Judging by the three holes in his head, I’d say his visit to the lake wasn’t recreational.”

  She snapped her gaze up to Gabe�
�s, her brows drawn together in question. “Three?”

  “Bullet entered here, here and here,” he said, indicating each by pointing them out on his own head. “I’m no expert, but I’d say he was dead before he hit the water.”

  Irritated with herself that he’d found three bullet holes, when she’d only seen one, she looked at the corpse again. Her frown deepening, she slowly lowered the sheet and pushed to her feet. “Has the M.E. been here?”

  “Here and gone about half an hour ago. Left as soon as he proclaimed him dead. When the photographer finishes up, we’re transporting the body to the lab for autopsy.”

  Andrea nodded. “I’ll drop by and get the M.E.’s preliminary findings.”

  “I plan on doing the same. Want a ride? We can have dinner afterward.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you ever give up, Thunderhawk?”

  “Do I look like a quitter?”

  “Are we ready to transport?”

  Startled by the sound of Chief Prater’s voice, she glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was headed their way. As usual, he had an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth. Although he’d quit smoking five years before, he refused to give up his cigars completely.

  “We’re transporting as soon as the photographer finishes up,” she replied, then looked at him curiously. “What are you doing way out here? You don’t usually visit crime scenes.”

  “Got a call from the M.E. He says our victim has an unusual birthmark. A crown shape on the right hip, same as Ryan Fortune.”

  Familiar with the wealthy Fortune and his philanthropic work to many of the charitable organizations in the state, Andi glanced back at the body in confusion. “Are you saying the floater is Ryan Fortune?”

  “No, I’m saying the crown-shaped birthmark is a Fortune trademark, which means he’s probably related.” He shifted his gaze to Gabe. “I want you working this case with Andi.”

  Andi’s eyes shot wide in alarm. “Leo and I can handle this. We don’t need Gabe’s help.”

  The chief dragged the cigar from his mouth and set his lips in a grim line. “Leo isn’t going to be handling anything for a while.”

  A knot of fear twisted in her gut. “But…why? Has something happened to him?”

  He tapped a finger against his chest. “Heart attack. Happened early this morning. His wife says it was caused by a blockage. Gonna need a quadruple bypass. He’ll be out on medical leave for at least a month. Maybe longer.”

  Stunned, Andi could only stare at her boss, her concern for her partner obliterating all other thought. She’d worked with Leo for nine years. Heck, he was like a father to her!

  She swallowed hard, trying to force back the paralyzing fear, the memory of her own father’s heart attack that had resulted in his death.

  “He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?” she asked uneasily.

  The chief shrugged. “If he takes care of himself and follows the doctor’s orders, he should be fine.” He narrowed an eye at her. “But until he’s back, Gabe’s working with you. Understood?”

  Though Andi wanted to argue, beg the chief to assign someone else as her partner, anyone other than Thunderhawk, she gave her chin a jerk of assent. “Whatever you say, Chief.”

  He clamped the unlit cigar between his teeth again and took a slow look around. “Looks like y’all’ve done what you can do here. Go on over to Ryan’s ranch, inform him of what’s happened, then escort him to the M.E.’s office and see if he can identify the body.”

  “Do you really think our floater is a Fortune?” she asked doubtfully.

  He looked down his nose at her. “Until someone proves otherwise, that’s exactly what I think.”

  One

  Two months later

  Andi Matthews was no stranger to murder. She’d focused her entire college career on studying the profiles of killers and perfecting the procedures for gathering the evidence needed to win convictions. For the past nine years she’d worked for the Red Rock Police Department, had personally investigated close to fifty murders and put nearly that same number of criminals behind bars. She knew how a murderer’s mind worked, what fueled their need to kill and what mistakes they might make that would lead to their arrests.

  But she’d never considered committing murder herself.

  Until today.

  From the moment Chief Prater had assigned Gabe Thunderhawk to work with her to identify the body of the Lost Fortune—the tag given to the floater discovered at Lake Mondo—she’d known she was in for trouble. Everyone on the force knew that Gabe wanted a promotion to detective, and this was the perfect chance for him to prove he was qualified to handle the job.

  Intellectually she understood what a boon the successful closing of the case would be to his career. Because of the crown-shaped birthmark on the floater’s right hip that linked the body with the Fortune family, solving the case would give him a level of publicity and notoriety that no other case could offer.

  But understanding his motive in no way excused his behavior. Not in Andi’s opinion. She was the primary on this case and she was sick and tired of him working independently from her. They were supposed to be partners, a team, a fact that she intended to remind him of the moment he showed up…if he ever did.

  She stopped her agitated pacing in front of the police station and shoved up the sleeve of her blazer to check the time. Her frown deepened, as she noted that he was now over thirty minutes late.

  “Okay, Thunderhawk,” she muttered under her breath. “What are you up to now?”

  While playing the possibilities through her mind, she recalled mentioning the day before that they should re-question the fishing guide who had found the body. Figuring Gabe had taken it upon himself to do the job alone—and upstaging her should he get lucky—she headed for her unmarked, city-issue Ford sedan.

  The twenty-minute drive to Lake Mondo gave her ample time to work up a pretty good head of steam. By the time she arrived at Hook ’n Go, the bait shop where the fishing guide usually hung out, and found Gabe’s truck parked out front, she was a slash mark beyond the boiling point. Prepared to read him the riot act for his traitorous behavior the moment he showed his double-crossing face, she braced a hip against the hood of his truck, folded her arms across her chest and waited.

  Her timing was perfect, as moments later the door of the bait shop opened and Gabe appeared. Seemingly unaware of her presence, he paused in the doorway, conversing with someone inside. He didn’t appear rushed or harried, a fact that grated on her already raw nerves, since he’d kept her cooling her heels for almost an hour. But Gabe never seemed to get in a hurry, a trait the guys on the force attributed to his Native American heritage. That same heritage was evidenced by his high slash of cheekbones, the bronze tint of his skin, his dark hair and eyes. Most women considered him drop-dead handsome. Normally Andi would’ve agreed.

  Today she considered him nothing but a royal pain in the ass.

  “I appreciate your time,” she heard him say to the person inside. “If you think of anything, you’ve got my card.” The slap of the screen door closing was followed by the scrape of his boot soles on the worn wooden steps as he headed for his truck.

  When he spotted Andi, he slowed slightly, then strode on, his brow wrinkled in puzzlement.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought we were supposed to meet at the station.”

  “Oh, we were,” she replied, then pushed away from his truck, with a scowl, and leveled a warning finger at his nose. “Listen up, Thunderhawk, and listen good. Whether you like it or not, I’m the primary on this investigation, and nothing is done outside of my presence or without my prior knowledge, including interviewing individuals associated with this case.”

  He held up a hand. “Now, wait a minute. You’re the one who said we should talk to the fishing guide again.”

  “Yes, I did. But we didn’t talk to him, you did, and after being told repeatedly that we work as a team.” She narrowed an eye. “I’m warning you,
Gabe, if you continue to undermine my authority, I’ll request that Chief Prater remove you from the case.”

  He hitched his hands on his hips in frustration. “What is it with you, anyway? You act like I’m sneaking around behind your back.”

  “Well, aren’t you?”

  “What I was trying to do was save us both some time.”

  “And how did you plan to do that, when I’ve been sitting on my hands at the station for over an hour waiting for you?”

  “My place is a couple of miles from here. I figured I’d stop by on my way into town, question the guide, then meet you at the station and report my findings. Is it my fault the fishing guide is a Chatty Cathy?”

  Though his explanation made sense, she didn’t trust him. Not for a minute. This wasn’t the first time he’d struck out on his own without first discussing his plans with her. But to continue to debate his insubordination would be unproductive and a waste of more of her time.

  She released a breath and, along with it, some of her anger. “All right,” she said, grudgingly. “But next time check with me first or I swear I’ll file a complaint with the chief.”

  “Fine.”

  Determined to focus her mind on the investigation and away from her irritation with her so-called partner, she asked, “Did the guide have anything new to say?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Same story he gave the day he found the body.”

  She hadn’t expected the man would remember anything new. But after two months with no new leads on the case, there was nothing left to do but backtrack, in hopes of finding something they’d missed the first time through.

  Frustrated by the lack of evidence they had to work with, she frowned at the lake that had regurgitated the Lost Fortune, washing its bloated body up on shore. Thanks to the southeasterly wind currently blowing, the lake’s surface was choppy. Not a fishing or pleasure boat in sight. A lone heron sailed low over the water, trolling for his next meal. The shoreline itself was empty of humanity, but dotted with litter. Aluminum cans, plastic bags and a length of frayed synthetic rope, probably discarded from some ski boat. It was a scavenger’s dream.