by Rita Herron
He strode inside and reached for the bottle of whiskey, but when he glanced up at the ranch house and saw a light flicker on in the master bedroom—in his bedroom—and watched the silhouette of the woman pacing the room, rubbing her arms and wringing her hands together, he set the bottle back down.
He didn’t know what her story was, but he’d damn well find out. And he needed a clear head to deal with her when he ran her off in the morning, because he had a weakness for a woman and kid in trouble.
And he was not falling into that trap again.
CECE STIRRED FROM SLEEP AND OPENED HER EYES, SQUINTING to see where she was.
In a bedroom somewhere. The last thing she remembered was her mommy driving to a ranch with horse stables and saying they’d spend the night in the house.
A whisper made her roll sideways, and she clenched the sheet. A boy with dark hair was standing by the window in jeans, a T-shirt and cowboy hat.
She bit her lip to keep from screaming. “Who are you?” she managed to whisper.
“Todd,” the boy said. “You’re sleeping in my bed.”
CeCe’s stomach started to hurt. “My mommy said no one lives here.”
“I do,” Todd said.
But he was floating away like he was on a cloud, and CeCe couldn’t see him anymore.
“Take care of my horse,” the boy said as he slipped away.
CeCe hugged the pillow to her. She had to be dreaming. But just in case she wasn’t, and the boy really did have a horse here, she promised him she would.
“DID YOU FIND THE WHITTAKER WOMAN?”
“I’m on her trail. She ditched the car Pinter was using and traded it for a Pathfinder. I’m looking for it now.”
“Find her. I am not going to prison.”
Hell. He didn’t intend to go back either. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the broad.”
“Good. This past year has been a fucking nightmare.”
He punched disconnect then turned to his attorney Willa Barnaby and stripped his clothes, eager to plant himself inside her.
She dropped her silk blouse to the floor, licking her lips in invitation.
He ripped off her bra and cradled her big breasts in his hands. “I’ve missed you, sweetheart.”
She rubbed a hand over his cock, making it harden even more. “I missed you, too.”
He flicked his tongue over one ripe nipple, furious at Kaylie Whittaker for depriving him of his freedom and the pleasures that went with it the past few months.
Her husband had gotten exactly what he’d deserved.
And soon she would, too.
Then his problems would be over.
And he could screw Willa any time he damn well wanted.
CHAPTER FOUR
MITCH FELT LIKE A VOYEUR THE NEXT MORNING AS HE PEERED through his binoculars to study the house, but he had to find out what the woman was up to. By dawn, he’d begun to wonder if she was holed up meeting someone or if perhaps she was running from an abusive spouse.
That was the logical explanation. He’d seen the same sad story too many times to count. Women dependent on some jackass who used and abused them, then made them think they were to blame. Men who should have their own butts kicked and their faces smashed in for venting his anger and small mindedness on women and children too small to defend themselves.
Of course, she could be a money-hungry princess who’d stolen the man’s child just to exhort cash from her husband. Hell, he’d seen that scenario, too.
In both situations, the kid suffered the most.
That little strawberry blonde girl with the freckles tugged at his damn heart. A heart he’d thought had broken beyond feeling anything but pain.
He slipped into the barn, saddled up Horseshoe, the chestnut Todd had loved, and rode across the ranch, searching for anything suspicious.
Or someone who might be meeting with the blonde at the house.
But his search turned up empty. Although in the north pasture, he spotted a truck sitting high on the hill. But when he nudged Horseshoe in that direction, the truck barreled off.
That raised his suspicions, so he rode the property again, then circled back and steered the horse to drink from the creek while he dismounted and watched the farmhouse from the hill.
Hoping the woman and kid would leave first thing, he forced himself to wait instead of confronting her. He’d give her time to get off his land on her own.
He just hoped to hell she did. Then he could avoid asking questions and entrenching himself deeper into her life.
Finally as daylight fought through the winter clouds, she emerged from the house. She wore a long sleeved pink T-shirt and jeans that hugged curves, curves he hadn’t noticed last night in the dark. She’d pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail, drawing it back from her face, which accentuated high cheekbones and a pouty little sweet mouth.
Sweet as in her lips were plump like raspberries and stirred a man’s blood with the desire to kiss her.
Dammit.
Out pranced little Miss Sunshine with the freckles, her own strawberry blonde ponytail swinging as she clutched that scraggly doll to her. Her eyes lit up when she spotted the horses trotting across the pasture.
For the love of Christ.
The mother and daughter could have passed for angels had he not seen the pistol in the woman’s hands and the fear in her eyes the night before.
The woman stooped down and cradled her daughter’s face between her hands then said something to her that made the little girl burst into a big smile.
Mitch cursed and prayed they were leaving for good as they hurried around back to their SUV.
KAYLIE SCANNED THE DIRT ROAD AS SHE DROVE TOWARD THE small town she’d passed through the night before. She needed coffee, food, and a plan.
She could find the first two in Twin Branches, but the third one stumped her.
“I’m hungry,” CeCe said from the back seat.
“Me, too, baby,” Kaylie said. “We’re going to get something to eat in town.”
“I wanna go back to the ranch,” CeCe said. “Did you see the horses?”
“Yes, I did.” Nerves twisted Kaylie’s stomach. The horses were beautiful. But keeping livestock on the land meant that someone would most likely come out to take care of them.
“Can I ride one of the horsies?”
She doubted that would happen. “I don’t know. We’ll see.”
“That means no,” CeCe said with her infamous stubborn pout.
Kaylie tossed a smile over her shoulder. “That means we’ll see. First we’re going to get a big breakfast, then pick up some groceries.”
“You mean we really are gonna stay at the ranch?”
Kaylie swallowed hard at the unbridled hope in her daughter’s voice. “For a little while maybe.” Unless the owner comes by and catches us squatting.
“Can I get a kitty, too?”
Kaylie laughed. “Breakfast and groceries first. We’ll have to talk to Santa about the kitty.” And wait until we’re not running for our lives.
“Okay, but I wants pancakes with chocolate chip eyes.”
“Sounds good,” Kaylie said as she entered the town square. With its old-fashioned storefronts, small grocery store, boot store and diner boasting homemade barbeque, Twin Branches could have been any other little hole-in-the-wall town in Texas. Still, there was something charming and quaint about it that made Kaylie relax.
Two women strolling their babies crossed the street to a park in the center of town, an elderly man and woman held hands as they entered the diner, and two men in overalls sat on the front porch of the general store playing checkers over a whiskey barrel.
A discount store was beside the diner, and she made a note to check it out for disguises for her and CeCe in case they needed to change their appearance.
She parked in front of the diner, tugged a baseball cap over her head, then tossed CeCe a cap. The two of them joined hands and hurried to the door.
St
ill, she kept glancing over her shoulder, scanning the street and diner as they entered, praying no one was following them.
MITCH SNUCK INTO THE FARMHOUSE, IRRITATED THAT HE FELT as if he was a thief in the night and that he was violating the woman’s privacy when she was the one who’d broken into his house.
He glanced around the kitchen and living room, noting everything looked as he’d left it. Sheets draped over furniture, bare kitchen counter, curtains drawn. For the first time, he saw the place as his wife had.
Dusty, rundown, in need of a good cleaning and decent furniture.
Although Sally had wanted to gut the place, he’d insisted the wood floors and crown moldings were timeless.
He wondered what the stranger in his house thought. And if she was coming back.
He hadn’t seen her lugging her suitcase to the car when she’d left.
Which meant she’d return for them any minute.
He had to hurry.
Grumbling beneath his breath, he climbed the steps to the second floor, his boots pounding. He paused at the top of the stairwell to look in his son’s room and saw the bed was made, although that damn doll with the ratty dress and scraggly orange hair lay on the pillow as if it had found a home.
Hell, yeah. They’d be back. The kid would have taken the doll with her if they were leaving for good. Just what were the woman’s plans?
Something tugged at his heart, emotions he didn’t want to feel, and he cursed and strode to the master bedroom—his room. Sally had hated the outdated curtains and antiques, but he’d admired the craftsmanship of the four-poster shaker-style bed. Besides, a painting of mustangs hung above the bed, a reminder of his passion for ranch life, open spaces and taming wild horses.
He’d expected to find peace and tranquility here, but instead had lost everything. Now the ranch just felt plain lonely.
The woman had made the bed up, and put her suitcase on top of the chaise in the corner. He bypassed it and checked the bathroom, the faint scent of lavender swirling in the air, a feminine smell that sent a jolt of awareness through him.
A travel-size shampoo and conditioner sat in the shower caddy, a small make-up bag on the bathroom vanity.
An image of the blonde naked in his shower taunted him.
Banishing the image, he returned to the bedroom and rummaged through her suitcase, looking for information about his guest. The suitcase held another pair of jeans, two T-shirts and three long sleeved shirts, all in various pastel shades.
Beneath the pile of clothes, he found lingerie—satin and lace panties and bras that were so sexy they made his cock harden.
Damn, he was pathetic if underwear was turning him on. The last thing he needed was to lust after any woman, much less one in trouble.
Especially one with a kid.
That path was too dangerous.
He carefully tried to place the garments back as she’d left them, then unzipped the zipper pouch on the outside of the bag.
His pulse hammered. This was what he was looking for—some kind of ID.
Only when he opened the manila envelope, out slid a wad of cash and three different pieces of identification.
All with pictures of the stranger in his house. All three boasting different names.
Tammy Langley. Collette Watts. Loretta Cagle.
The gut instincts that came with his job surged to life. What the hell was going on?
Could she possibly be in WITSEC? Or was she an identity thief, or a criminal using different IDs to escape being apprehended?
“CECE, HONEY, I HATE TO DO THIS, BUT IF ANYONE ASKS HERE in town, my name is Kat.”
CeCe scrunched her nose into a frown. “Who am I going to be, Mommy?”
Kaylie sipped her coffee. When they’d first gone into hiding, she’d presented the fake names as a game. At first CeCe had thought it was fun.
But it was wearing on both of them.
“Who do you want to be?”
CeCe chewed a forkful of pancakes. “I wants to be CeCe and go back to the ranch with the horsies and make sprinkle cookies for Santa Claus.”
Kaylie ached that she couldn’t give that to her. “I know. Just a little longer, baby, and I’ll figure out how to make that happen.” The door opened to the diner, and a man in a sheriff’s uniform strode in, his gaze sweeping the place.
God, she hoped the police hadn’t figured out what kind of car she was driving now. That sheriff might recognize the Pathfinder and detain her.
If he took her in for questioning, she might lose CeCe.
And if Arnold and Rafferty had been killed by someone in law enforcement, turning to him for help could be dangerous.
Kaylie pulled the brim of her hat lower and dipped her head to speak to CeCe. “Finish your breakfast, sweetie. We need to go in a minute.”
CeCe swallowed a swig of orange juice then set the glass down with a thunk. “I’ll be Dora. Like Dora the Explorer.”
Kaylie smiled. “Good thinking. Dora, you can help me explore the town.”
CeCe brightened at the idea and gobbled down the rest of her pancakes while Kaylie finished her eggs and coffee. The sheriff bypassed them with only a minor nod of his head.
A second later, he slid in the booth across from them with a tall man with a goatee who raked his gaze over Kaylie with interest. He had long sideburns, a cleft in his chin and a scar below his left eye.
Kaylie tugged her daughter’s hand in hers, and they walked to the register to pay. But as she closed her wallet, she sensed someone watching her.
Her skin prickling, she peered sideways through the window as they left, and realized the man with the sheriff was still watching her. Operating on autopilot, she memorized his features. A long face, hazel eyes, black Stetson, western clothing.
Did he work with the sheriff? Did he know who she was? Had Buckham hired him to kill her?
MITCH STEWED OVER HOW TO HANDLE THE SITUATION AS THE Pathfinder barreled down the drive toward the farmhouse. From his vantage point on horseback, he watched the SUV come to a stop.
The woman slid out, her long legs unfolding gracefully, then hurried around to help the little girl with her seatbelt. The nymph jumped down from the seat and proceeded to spin in circles as she ran through the grass while her mother unloaded four bags of groceries and carried them inside.
Four bags of groceries meant she was planning to stay longer than one night.
Were they all for her and the child, or was she expecting company?
The little girl started doing cartwheels, her body bouncing and falling as she struggled with them. But she didn’t seem to mind that she messed up. Instead, she turned her face up to the sun and danced around again, then belted into an off key chorus of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.
Todd had loved that song, too.
Grief clogged his throat for a moment as he pictured his little boy running through the fields with this freckled-face child.
The woman stepped onto the porch. “Come on inside, honey.”
The little girl bent to pick up a rock. “But I wanna stay out here and play.”
Her mother shaded her eyes with her hand and stretched, looking down the drive toward the road. “All right, for a few minutes. But if you see a car, run inside.”
“’kay!” Another failed cartwheel, and the girl landed on her head. She laughed though as she got up and tried again.
A second later she twirled around and noticed Todd’s tree house. She squealed, raced over and climbed the ladder. Mitch’s heart skipped a beat. He could still hear Todd laughing as they nailed the wood boards together, craning his neck, shouting that he could see for miles from the top of the oak.
Mitch kicked Horseshoe’s sides, sending her into a trot, mentally debating how to approach the intruder.
He couldn’t let her know who he was or that he was a Texas Ranger.
Former Texas Ranger.
The chestnut bounded down the hill across the pasture, slowing as they approached the front yard
.
The little girl suddenly spotted him, scrambled down and ran for the porch. Her scream sent a shudder through Mitch and made him feel like a heel.
Dammit, he hadn’t meant to scare her.
But he wasn’t the one trespassing.
Seconds later, the screened door opened, and the woman stepped outside, the little girl clutching the woman’s leg as she hid behind her.
He froze, bringing Horseshoe to a halt as she raised a gun and aimed it at his chest.
CHAPTER FIVE
KAYLIE CLUTCHED THE GUN WITH A WHITE-KNUCKLED GRIP.
Beside her, she felt CeCe’s anxiety. God help her, she hated that her daughter had to be scared. Especially when five minutes ago, she was laughing and turning cartwheels in the grass and singing about Rudolph like a normal five-year-old.
The stranger on the horse slowly raised his hands as if in surrender. “Don’t shoot, ma’am. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Kaylie’s hand trembled. “Who are you?”
The tall, rugged cowboy tilted the corner of his black Stetson, his eyes narrowing. Those eyes were coal black. His jaw chiseled and angular. His lips thick and pressed into an angry slash of a line.
Not the man from town.
If she wasn’t scared to death he was there to kill her and CeCe, she’d think he was handsome.
“Name’s Mitch, ma’am. What’s yours?”
Kaylie tensed, struggling to remember the cover name she’d chosen. “Kat.”
“And yours, pumpkin?” Mitch asked with a smile toward CeCe.
CeCe wiggled behind Kaylie. “CeCe.”
So much for Dora. CeCe inched one toe up beside Kaylie, but still clung to her side.
Mitch’s gaze cut toward her daughter, and something akin to pain flashed in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you, CeCe.”
The breath Kaylie had been holding eased from her chest. If this man was a hired killer, he wouldn’t apologize for frightening CeCe. He’d just pull a gun and shoot them.