Page 6 of The Risk

He wanted to follow, to be in there with her. He had visions of her being intimidated as they questioned her. First to find a body was the first suspect, he'd heard before.

"Relax," a male voice said behind him. Charlie Fields. Chantal's much older brother. He was a good dozen years olderthan Gene, equally tall, equally muscled. And he had always been a cranky asshole. He and Charlie Fields understood each other, Gene couldn't deny that. He’d always respected Charlie. "Rory will be in shortly. She's bringing the babies up to see my parents while they are in town. I think she's worried. And she wants to check on Chantal herself."

Gene just nodded. He could see Chantal sitting at a table in the interview room. She was smiling at the dark-haired man in front of her. To see him that close to Chantal looked wrong. "Who is that?"

"That's Commander Rodriguez. Head of Homicide. The other guy is Jarrod Foster. Rodriguez will be heading the investigation, working with the Value sheriff. The rangers are leaving it up to us to make the decision."

The TSP worked in conjunction with the Texas Highway Patrol, local law enforcement, county law enforcement, and the Texas Rangers. Gene wasn’t sure which agency would do what. He just wanted answers—to know his ranch was safe for his family.

"From what I understand, she was just walking by and the dog went crazy."

"I know. And the idea that she could have walked right into something just pisses me off."

"I'm going to have the hands keep a better eye out for her."

"She's already been told no more hiking that way. Period," her brother said.

"Like anyone can tell her anything?" The Chantal he remembered had been able to argue with a stump. If she wanted to do something, she’d just do it—usually behind her brothers' backs.

But Charlie shot him a confused look. "She's not stupid. I don't think she'll want to go that way again. Not for a very long time, anyway."

Still, Gene wasn't going to take any chances. Not with Chantal, or any of the girls.

Speaking of... his three sisters had just rushed in, anxiety on their gorgeous faces. Genesis came right to him. "Where is Chantal? What's happening? Is she feeling okay?"

Chantal’s brother Chad wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her closer. "Chantal is in with the detectives now."

Genesis scowled up at Chad. She didn’t like Chantal’s brother much, either. Genesis had made that known thousands of times in the last decade. "Why is she in there alone?"

"She's going to be fine, Genesis,” Charlie said. “Jarrod and Miguel are good guys. Friends of mine—and Chantal dated Jarrod a few times several years ago. She knows him, likes him. They aren't going to push her too hard. We just need to find out what she knows, what everyone knows, actually, since the body was found on both properties."

"Technically, it was found on Chantal's property, your parents' property, and my brothers’. I don't know why the rest of us need to be here," Giavonna said. She was drawing attention from some of the men in the bullpen area where Charlie had directed them all to wait. No surprise—more than the rest, Giavonna drew male attention.

And his oldest sister never seemed aware of that. Or rather—comfortable with it. He’d always wondered why. But Giavonna didn’t share secrets with him.

A pang of regret at that hit him out of the blue. He didn’t know what went on in his sisters’ lives lately. What they thought about things, what they wanted out of life.

Maybe he didn’t know his sisters all that well anymore. He didn’t like how that thought settled at all.

Finally, Chantal came out. The big linebacker stayed at her side. The guy looked at Charlie. "I am personally returning your baby sister to your care, Fields. Take care of her." He smiled atChantal, then at Gene's sisters. "Ladies, sorry to inconvenience you today."

Every last one of them got red-faced and almost gawked at him. Even Giavonna. Seriously? Over this behemoth? The guy had to be six-eight, at the least. The girls were all just staring like he was Hercules personified or something. The cop smiled at Genesis, and damned if Gene’s sister’s face didn’t turn red instantly.

The guy patted Chantal on the shoulder, right next to where that red braid hung. Gene couldn't help himself—he wrapped his hand around her elbow and pulled her toward him. And away from that asshole.

Chantal just looked at him like she didn't have a clue what Gene was doing. Hell, even Gene didn't know what he was doing now.

He hadn’t touched her in years.

The questions had been justlike what Charlie had told her to expect. There had been a few she hadn't expected, but Chantal found the experience of being questioned by the Major Crimes division—her brother's division, of all things—relatively uneventful. She didn't have much she could tell them, just that she walked that way almost every day, and she didn't think she had ever seen anyone who didn't belong up there. It wasn’t exactly easy to get to.

Genny and her sisters were after Chantal. Their interviews were just as quick—Major Crimes split them up. Then it was Chantal's parents' turn. But everyone knew that was just a formality. Most of her time waiting for her parents was spent with her sister-in-law and the babies.

Her infant niece and nephew were beautiful. Chaz looked like a redheaded version of his mother, but Charis looked like Chantal had as a baby. Well, Chantal and probably Charlotte, but with light strawberry hair. Chantal adored them both.

She wished she had children of her own. She was only thirty, but the possibility of having children became less and less of a reality each day that passed—not only because of the potential complications from being diabetic, but mostly because finding a man to have those children with just hadn’t happened. And in a town of eight hundred, most of them her father’s age or very young children, she didn’t see that happening any time soon.

She went to church—Genny’s brother Gunn was the minister, and they’d had dinner together three or four times in the last five years when he’d needed someone to go with him to a pastoral function in Finley Creek—but the congregation wasn’t exactly filled with young, single men.

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