Stranger At My Door (A Murder In Texas) by Mari Manning

too.
    “We’re just friends,” said Dinah, then firmly changed the subject. “So you wouldn’t talk to me at the party because you didn’t think I wanted to talk to you.”
    “That and because I keep to myself. But you didn’t want to talk to me because you thought I didn’t want to talk to you.”
    “I guess so.”
    Esme began to laugh. “We are both loco .”
    Dinah smiled. “No, we are both too good for this town.”

    She had one other call to make before Rafe returned.
    The number went directly to voicemail. Bastard!
    “You have reached the party line.” Brandon sounded drunk. As usual. In the background, a girl tittered.
    She deserved this. Hadn’t she done worse to the only decent guy she’d ever dated?
    “I’m off to Cancun for some R and R. Leave me a message. Maybe I’ll get back to you when I return to L.A.”
    She’d leave a message, all right. Hopefully one that would ruin his sweet little vacation with Lolita. “I want every last penny you took from my account, Brandon. All of it, or this time I’m pressing charges. No more second chances.”

Chapter Eleven
    Dinah looked different when she opened the door. Happier? It seemed that way to Rafe, but he could never tell with women. Sometimes they smiled, then kicked you in the balls.
    She handed over his phone with a little bow. “Thanks.”
    Which reminded him… “You need a phone.”
    Her hands went to her hips, her head tilted, and her right foot began to tap. She looked adorable when she was annoyed with him, and he steeled himself for the argument he was about to get from her. He liked that, too, although he didn’t want to. No more stubborn women.
    “I have a phone,” she said.
    “A phone with service. You’ve had a break-in. What if I hadn’t been there? What would you have done then?
    “Run.”
    “That boy who broke in was fast and strong enough to vault over a five-foot fence. He also had a mean-looking knife. Do you really think galloping off in your cowboy boots would discourage him if he wanted to hurt you?”
    The corners of her mouth inched up, and her foot stopped tapping. “Maybe not. But I’m not taking money from you, Rafe, so put that idea right out of your head.”
    He set his hat and phone down. “Let’s sit down. I have a few things to go over with you. We can talk more about the phone later.”
    He sat beside her, breathing in the soapy scent of her skin and enjoying the warmth of the female body just a few inches from his. Clearing his throat—and hopefully his brain—he got down to business.
    “The autopsy came back on Teke Cruz. He was murdered.”
    Her eyes widened. “I thought he fell off the bridge.” Gold flecks glimmering in the green irises. Strange. He hadn’t noticed them before.
    “It was only about six feet, and he was drunk. Must have landed like a rag doll. Not even a broken finger. Before he went over the railing, someone cut his carotid artery. That detail is classified, by the way.” Rafe had debated with himself about letting loose about the knife wound on Teke’s neck. But it had to be from the same guy who broke into the house earlier in the evening, which meant Dinah could be in danger.
    “Sweet tea, you two?” Hollyn appeared in the doorway with glasses of iced tea balanced on a tray. Where had she been? Had she heard what he said to Dinah?
    “This is a private conversation,” he said.
    “Ooh, sorry.” She rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll just set these cold drinks right down on the coffee table and be on my way.” With a giggle, she skittered out.
    “You were a little rough on her,” said Dinah, as Hollyn disappeared.
    He lowered his voice. “No one is supposed to know about the cut except the killer.”
    “And me.”
    “I’m worried about your safety. Someone out there has decided the money is still around, and you know where it is.”
    “Actually, there’s more than one someone who thinks that.” Dinah bent forward and picked up a glass. She wore a