Bonded

by Laura Wright

Blue watched her walk away, his gaze running down from her pretty neck to that pink dress, long legs, and—melt his frozen heart—those cowboy boots. Whereas ten minutes ago, he’d been starving and ready for lunch, now all he wanted was Emily Shiver. Legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, and that smile inching closer until their lips locked.

  He’d thought he’d felt lost before, but this was something else entirely. He grabbed his pitchfork and got back to work. For a man who’d sworn to keep himself closed off and protected, there was no one more dangerous to want than the woman who was carrying his baby.

  * * *

  “Everyone here, Mr. Cavanaugh?” Franklin inquired, taking his seat and placing three files on the conference table.

  Deacon nodded to the private investigator and sat back in his leather chair. The massive conference room on the twenty-sixth floor of Cavanaugh Enterprises was sparsely populated. Just Eric Franklin, James, and Cole. Deacon had decided to meet with the PI in Dallas, as he was already in town for work. Same with Cole, who was ordering equipment for the new training gym he was opening in River Black. James had been flown in on the Blue Bull not thirty minutes ago, without Mac, who’d decided at the last minute that there was too much happening at the ranch for her to get away.

  Franklin was seated to Deacon’s right. He eyed all three men before diving in.

  “Five and a half years ago, Natalie Palmer attended cooking school at the Debenroux School in New Orleans.”

  “Never heard of it,” James said, reaching for the glass carafe in front of him and pouring himself some water.

  “I’m not surprised,” Franklin said. “The cooking school she attended wasn’t a prestigious institution. And I only say that because when one of its students went missing, it was hardly talked about or investigated.”

  “Someone went missing?” Cole said tightly.

  “A young woman,” the PI told him. “Her name was Erica Keller.”

  “Is she still missing?” James asked, a note of concern in his voice.

  Franklin nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Deacon felt his insides tighten. “Did she know Natalie Palmer? Were they friends?”

  “No, sir,” Franklin answered.

  “Well, shit,” Cole ground out, taking off his Stetson and dropping it on the black marble table. “Then what does all this even matter?”

  “Cole,” James said, shooting his tatted-up brother a look. “Let the man finish.”

  Lips twisting, Cole turned to Franklin. “Sorry.”

  The man nodded. “Natalie knew Erica’s roommate at the time. A Gary Schnull.”

  “A man?” Deacon asked. “Were you able to locate him?”

  Franklin nodded. “Yes, sir. We spoke in detail for several hours.”

  “And?” Cole pressed. He was leaning on the table, hungry for answers. Hell, they all were.

  “During their time at school,” Franklin continued, “Miss Palmer took an interest in him. At first it was just your usual flirtation. But then it grew into love letters and phone calls. She showed up at his apartment several times. Wasn’t pleased with the female roommate and was even less pleased when Mr. Schnull told her that he wasn’t interested. That he wanted to date Miss Keller. Though Miss Palmer didn’t act angry or spiteful, Mr. Schnull believes she may have sabotaged a few of Miss Keller’s dishes. He couldn’t prove it, of course.”

  “Did they question Schnull and Natalie when Miss Keller went missing?” James asked, the water in front of him completely forgotten.

  “Yes.” Franklin took out some paperwork from a gray folder. “Natalie was never looked at closely, but Schnull was a suspect for quite a while. In fact, he was questioned just last year when Miss Keller’s family put pressure on the local district attorney. But without a body . . .” He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.

  “Don’t suppose he kept any of those letters?” James said with a snort.

  “He did.”

  They all turned to stare at Franklin.

  “One. The same one he showed the police back when Miss Keller went missing. They believed it was irrelevant, as Miss Palmer was only interested in Mr. Schnull and had little contact with Miss Keller. He kept the letter, found it several months ago when he was moving into a new house with his wife.” He slid a black file toward Deacon. “I made a copy, sir.”

  Jaw tight, Deacon picked up the folder and slid the letter out. His eyes moved over the copy. And with every sentence, every word, his chest filled with both pain and hope. With this new information, he could go to the sheriff and demand they open an investigation into Natalie Palmer’s involvement in Cass’s death.

  “Is it something we can use, Deac?” James asked.

  “Yeah,” Cole added, his almost vulnerable expression a true contrast to his heavily tattooed neck and arms. “Out with it.”

  Deacon looked at each one in turn, then said, “We might just catch Cass’s killer after all.”

  Twelve

  Ben and Susie Shiver were arguably the best parents in the world. They loved their children like each was a gift to treasure. They supported them, pushed them, made them laugh, and when it was time to cry, held them tight and reminded them that tomorrow was a fresh day full of possibilities. But . . . they were also fiercely protective and opinionated. Hell, Emily and her brothers hadn’t gotten those two attributes from nowhere.

  “I know you love your flowers, but baking could be your true calling,” her mother cooed as she sliced into the chocolate cake Emily had frosted near an hour ago. After all, dropping a bomb required large quantities of sugar and carbohydrates. “This is gorgeous, Em.”

  “It is,” Steven agreed. He glanced her way, one eyebrow raised. What’s the occasion? he seemed to be asking. In the past couple of days, he hadn’t pushed her to tell their parents about the baby. In fact, since the incident at the jail, he’d been kind of quiet. It was weird. Like either he felt guilty, or a storm was brewing inside of him. Emily wasn’t giving him the chance to explode with the news he’d been holding on to. Tonight was the night.

  “Just thought we all deserved a little something sweet,” Emily said, her stomach clenching with each word.

  Her father grabbed her mother’s hand. “I got my something sweet. Right here.”

  “Oh, Ben,” her mother said, blushing.

  “No PDA at the table, okay?” Jeremy said wryly.

  “Hey now,” their father said with false sternness as he leaned in and kissed his wife on the cheek. “That PDA brought you into this world, young man.”

  Jeremy grimaced. “One thing I’m not going to miss.”

  “Miss?” their mother repeated, returning to the cake and her slicing duties.

  “Just saying I won’t miss you and Dad pawing on each other when I move out.”

  Emily’s brother said the words all casual-like, but she saw his eyes dart around the table. A table that was now uncomfortably silent. Everyone was staring at the youngest Shiver. Emily couldn’t believe her brother. Bringing up something so pivotal. Right now. Where the hell was his soften-the-blow cake?

  “You leaving the nest already, son?” their father said, his tone curious as he passed the boy a slice of cake.

  Jeremy took it with a quick thanks. “Just moving to town. I think it’s time. Don’t you?” He glanced at Steven questioningly. But the sheriff’s deputy had his gaze pinned to his coffee cup.

  Emily sat there, feeling unsure. Her little brother was moving out of the house. Her little brother. And he was saying it was time. It was strange, him saying that—especially tonight.

  So what now? she thought, looking at each Shiver in turn. Did she just come out with it? Drop the second bomb of the night? Or did she wait? Lord, did they have enough cake?

  As always, their mother was thinking practically. “Who’s going to feed you, Jeremy?” she asked him. Feeding her boys, and her girl, was of top importance, and a huge part of her mama’s DNA.

  Jeremy smiled and said a very simple, “I will
.”

  Susie blinked at him, as though she couldn’t imagine this. And frankly, Emily wasn’t sure she could imagine it either. Jeremy didn’t even know how to work the burners on the stove—didn’t know where the washing machine was “hidden.”

  “What he means is, he’ll go to the diner,” Steven said dryly. “And if that ain’t open, over to the Bull’s Eye.”

  Jeremy elbowed him in the ribs.

  “What?” Steven asked. “Bugging our sister while having some wings and a beer? I think I’ll move out too.”

  Both men chuckled, but Susie looked crushed.

  Ben patted his wife’s hand. “Babies need to leave the nest, darlin’. Hell, soon as they decided not to go into the ranching business, they had one foot out already.”

  Jeremy frowned. “Oh, come on, Dad.”

  “No offense or judgment,” Ben said. “Just truth.”

  “What do you think, Em?” Steven asked, his eyes on her now. “About all this? About babies? And nests?” He raised his brow again. Was this the coming storm? Had Jeremy’s news pushed him over the edge?

  Emily gave him a look of promised death.

  He just shrugged. “Curious is all.”

  “Emily isn’t going anywhere,” her mother said with a confident smile. “Are you, honey? Baby girls don’t move out of their mamas’ houses until they’re married. Or that’s the way it was in my day.”

  Oh God. This was awful. She couldn’t take it anymore. The knowing looks from her brother, the never-ending stress of keeping a secret from her parents. She just needed to—“Speaking of babies,” she began slowly.

  “What about them, sweetheart?” Susie asked, handing Emily a plate of cake. “Someone we know having one?”

  Her stomach was churning. She stared at the cake, her appetite completely gone. “Yes, actually.”

  “Oh. Who?”

  God, God, God. Just do it. Rip the damn Band-Aid off. Her mouth was extraordinarily dry. Maybe she should have some water first. She reached for her glass just as the doorbell rang.

  Perfect. Another interruption.

  “I’ll get it,” Steven said, then gave her an encouraging yet annoying nod. “You keep talking, Em. Keep on with what you were saying.”

  She gulped down the water, eyes narrowed at his retreating frame.

  “How exciting,” Susie was saying, pouring Ben a cup of coffee. “A new baby in River Black. Do we know if it’s a girl or a boy?”

  “No,” Emily said, putting her glass down and clearing her throat. “We . . . I mean I . . .” Oh God. “I don’t know. Yet.”

  Band-Aid off.

  Cue reaction.

  Churning stomach and dry mouth, she held her breath as neither one of her parents picked up on what she’d said. Well, not right away anyway. They were far too busy with creamer and sugar cubes. They still used sugar cubes! But, Lord, Jeremy had understood. He was sitting there, fork poised at his open mouth.

  Then he dropped the thing on his plate. “You don’t know?” he said. “Wait . . . Em? You’re not saying that you’re the one . . . ?” He leaned in. “Are you pregnant?”

  Oh . . . okay, this was it. Emily felt like a vacuum was sucking the air out of the room. She didn’t want to, but she did. Her eyes shifted. Susie and Ben Shiver were staring at her now, eyes wide and confused.

  As pale as the cream she held in her hand, her mother uttered her name like it was a question. “Emily?” A strange combination of horror and happiness glittered in her pale brown eyes. “That’s not what you meant, is it?”

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  The male voice, the deep, almost chiseled male voice Emily recognized—would always recognize—boomed into the room. Dressed in blue jeans and a dark gray chambray shirt, Blue Cavanaugh entered, followed by a tight-faced Steven. He carried a small collection of wild flowers, and when he came around the table, he handed them to Emily, then leaned down and gave her cheek a quick kiss. Confused, touched, horrified, Emily turned back to her parents. They still looked confused.

  “Blue Perez Cavanaugh,” he said to them, sticking out his hand. “I think we’ve met before, Mr. Shiver. Cattle sale or over at the feed store.”

  “I know who you are,” her father said tightly. “Work at the Triple C, right? You’re Everett’s . . .” He stumbled. “You worked for Everett.”

  Seemingly unaffected by the awkwardness of her father’s blunder, Blue turned to her mother. “Mrs. Shiver, it’s a pleasure.”

  She shook his hand, her expression stunned.

  “Well, this is going to be fun,” Steven muttered, sitting back down.

  “Did you know Emily’s pregnant?” Jeremy asked him, his tone accusatory.

  Blue heard and looked relieved. “So Emily told you our good news—is that right?” he asked her parents.

  Susie’s eyes widened even further. “Oh my goodness. Well, she said there was a baby . . .” Her face grew paler. Skim milk with those large, bewildered brown eyes that were now settling on Emily.

  “Mom,” she began.

  “I know it’s a bit of a shock,” Blue said, taking the empty seat beside Emily. “But we’re happy about it. Right, Emily?” He took her hand.

  “What are you doing?” Emily hissed at him.

  “Ben . . . ?” her mother was saying in that breathless voice she reserved for mice in her kitchen.

  “Emily?” her father said. “You’re pregnant?” He glanced at Blue.

  “Yes,” she said, wanting to melt into the floor.

  “How long have you two been . . .” Her mother looked from Blue to Emily, then back again. “Seeing each other?”

  “Not long,” Blue confirmed. He sounded completely at ease. Confident. Lucky bastard. She couldn’t believe he’d come. Why had he come? Her brain was spinning. He should’ve asked her. Discussed it with her. She didn’t like being blindsided.

  “How did this happen?” Ben Shiver said in a cool tone.

  “Oh, Ben,” her mother said, shaking her head.

  The man reddened. “What I mean is . . . what are your intentions, son?”

  No, no, no. “Dad—”

  “To be there for your daughter,” Blue cut in, then gave her hand a squeeze.

  Oh my God. Emily glanced over at her brothers. They were listening, enraptured.

  “And the child?” her father pressed.

  Before Blue could answer, Emily jumped in. “You don’t need to answer that.”

  “Of course he does, honey,” her mother said, almost as though she was insulted.

  “I don’t understand any of this, Em,” her father continued. “Why didn’t we know about this? Why wouldn’t you tell us?”

  “That’s right,” Susie added. “About him or the baby?”

  “Something tells me there’s no relationship here at all, Sue,” her father continued.

  Her stomach clenched. “I . . .” They wouldn’t stop. Her parents. The questions. All they needed was an interrogation light. Emily felt as if her mind had dissolved inside her skull. The room was feeling small, and the walls were breathing. She wasn’t going to faint, was she? “I . . . we . . . Blue and I . . . you see . . .” Oh God. What the hell did she say? It was one night of drunken sex. Well, he was drunk, she was . . . No, that wouldn’t work. “The truth is—”

  “We’re planning on getting married,” Blue said.

  Emily gasped as all eyes once again shifted to Blue Perez Cavanaugh.

  Jesus.

  He didn’t. He hadn’t. Emily stared at him, her eyes wide and questioning. How could he say that . . . blurt something like that out at her family’s dinner table? Something that was never going to come to pass.

  She felt a wave of nausea—a wave that had nothing to do with her pregnancy—overtake her. She wanted to get out, away, think . . . And then the room exploded into a cacophony of opinions and agreements.

  “I don’t like it,” her father said. “The secrets. But marriage is the sensible option. Better than living together.”
<
br />   “We hardly know this young man, Ben,” her mother said. “Emily should just stay here, and they can keep seeing each other. I’ll help with the baby.”

  Keep seeing each other? Right. Sure. She wanted to bust out laughing, but she was worried it might come out sounding kind of insane.

  “So I guess my news was small potatoes compared to what you got up your sleeve, big sister,” Jeremy said, grinning. “Or in your belly, as the case may be.”

  “Shut up,” Steven warned him. “You sound like an ass.”

  “And you don’t sound very surprised,” he retorted.

  “You’re not at all concerned about how this town will react, given she’s not married?” Ben asked his wife.

  “Oh, what do I care? This is 2015, for goodness’ sake. And maybe in time, they will get married.”

  “Mr. Perez,” Ben started. “What are your plans? For work, I mean. I know you’re a cowboy—”

  “I’ll be moving up to foreman when Mac Byrd leaves, Mr. Shiver,” Blue returned in a deadly serious tone, though his gaze did dart to Emily and back a few times. “As you may know, the Triple C is one-quarter mine.”

  “One-quarter—” Ben started. “Hmmm . . .”

  “But I intend to own the entire property,” he finished, his voice resolute.

  “Is that so?” Ben snorted, impressed in spite of his objections to their news. “Now . . . my daughter and grandchild living at a competing ranch. I don’t know. ’Course we sell different stock . . .”

  As they continued to discuss her, her future, her reputation, and her baby, Emily set her flowers on the table, pushed back her chair, and stood. Without a word, she left the room. This was madness. Never in her life had she felt so out of control, so exposed, or so furious at anyone.

  Or, Lord, so painfully alone.

  * * *

  Ben Shiver was talking to him about Angus and an idea he was having to bring on some dairy cows in the coming year. But Blue was only watching Emily. Her back, more like, as she left the room. He knew she was pissed at him, and he didn’t blame her. Married? Christ. Married? Where the hell had that come from? He hadn’t intended it. First the moving in, now the married . . . his subconscious was clearly trying to prove something. That he was no heel, maybe. That he didn’t get a woman pregnant and walk away. That he didn’t refuse his last name to both the child he’d helped create, and its mother.