Shattered

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Shattered Page 7

by Joan Johnston


  He shouldn’t have been surprised when the anonymous woman disappeared or when she was impossible to find. He’d felt the rings on her finger the moment she’d grasped his hand. He’d known she was someone else’s wife, that she’d chosen him at random for a night of sex. He hadn’t asked her reasons and she hadn’t offered any.

  He hadn’t asked her name or given her his.

  She’d nearly chickened out when the elevator doors opened on the penthouse floor. Her chin had wobbled, and she’d looked up at him with anxious blue eyes. He’d led her directly to the bedroom, hoping that her nerve would hold a little longer.

  The bed had already been turned down, and the only light on the pure white sheets had come from the full moon outside. He’d taken her in his arms while she was still fully clothed and felt her tremble in his embrace. She’d made a mewing sound as he slid his open hand down to her hips and pulled her close enough to feel the heat and hard length of him.

  But she didn’t try to pull free. Instead, she breathed in the scent of him as she slid her palms up over his shoulders. He could remember feeling gooseflesh rise on his arms as she teased her fingers through the hair that fell onto his nape and then tugged his head down toward hers.

  He remembered the soft weight of her breasts, and then their pebbled tips against his chest, as she leaned into him and raised her lips for his kiss.

  That first kiss—

  “Wow!” Chance said, tugging on Wyatt’s hand and putting an abrupt end to his erotic daydream. “We could probably go all the way to China in this plane!”

  “Yes, we could,” he agreed. Before he could say more, the boy was off to investigate more of the plane.

  Wyatt’s gaze shot to the door. He’d boarded after the twins but before Kate, who’d stayed behind with Bruce to remove some items from her luggage before it was loaded into the baggage compartment. He wondered what was holding her up.

  He’d taken off his suit jacket and tie, loosened the top couple of buttons on his shirt and folded up the sleeves. He was standing slightly hunched near the cockpit door, so his head didn’t hit the 6’2” ceiling. It was the only thing he didn’t love about the sixty-million-dollar jet, which had actually taken him to China and back several times over the past six months. Unfortunately, the next size up jet with the headroom he needed was a Boeing 737.

  Kate suddenly appeared in the doorway. She glared at him—a far cry from the yearning look he’d been remembering—then glanced over her shoulder at Bruce, who was bringing up the rear, a massive obstacle Wyatt had put there to keep her from grabbing the boys at the last minute and making a break for it. Now that he knew Jack McKinley was the man Kate had expected to protect her, it was even more important to keep her behind high stone walls. Jack had already proved his willingness to kill for Dante D’Amato by eliminating a snitch.

  “Mom, wait’ll you see this!” Lucky said from the aft section of the 550. “There’s a whole kitchen. And a bathroom with a counter and a mirror and a closet for clothes.”

  “The kitchen on a plane is called the galley,” Wyatt said.

  “Mom, come see the galley.” Lucky scampered back to grab Kate’s hand and tugged her all the way inside the plane, then got behind her and literally shoved her down the aisle so she could see the galley, which was designed for hot meal service. For the very short flight, Wyatt had stocked hot Papa John’s pizza and ice-cold Cokes for the kids and chilled Cristal Champagne he planned to offer Kate.

  “Lucky, look!” Chance exclaimed as he spotted several screens mounted near a tabletop. “A computer! And a DVD player!”

  Lucky pounded back down the center aisle between the couch and a row of two facing seats with a table between them, to the front of the jet. He looked up at Wyatt, his blue eyes bright with excitement, and said, “Do you have any games we could play or movies we could see, Mr. Shaw?”

  “I have both,” Shaw said. “They’re in that cupboard.” Wyatt pointed to a cupboard built in along the wall near the tabletop above which the DVD screen was mounted. “I think there might be a few movies in there you’d like.” He’d picked them out himself, based on what he remembered liking as a kid and what the reviewers said were appropriate movies for young children.

  The two boys dropped to the carpeted floor, yanked open the cupboard door and riffled through the games and DVDs.

  Wyatt was entranced by their exuberance. He glanced up and met Kate’s stark gaze at the opposite end of the plane. He saw the flicker of panic in her eyes and followed her gaze to where Bruce was locking the door to the Gulfstream, barring Kate’s last avenue of escape before they landed at the private airstrip near his compound north of Houston.

  “Folks, we’re cleared for takeoff,” the pilot drawled over the intercom in a thick East Texas accent. “Please take your seats and buckle your seat belts.”

  The twins ignored the announcement.

  “You boys need to buckle in so we can take off,” Wyatt said, tapping each boy on the shoulder. “The pilot will let us know when it’s safe to move around again.”

  The twins each had a handful of DVDs when they stood.

  “I’ll hold those for you.” Wyatt held out both hands.

  Lucky looked to his mother, who nodded, before he handed over his loot. Chance followed suit. Wyatt stowed the DVDs they’d selected in an overhead compartment.

  “Where should we sit?” Lucky asked Wyatt.

  “I want you both where I can see you,” Kate said, pointing to facing seats on the same side of the plane as the couch. Each boy grabbed one of the seats on opposite sides of a table and reached for the seat belt. Kate helped Chance, while Wyatt helped Lucky.

  Kate shot him an aggravated look but didn’t say anything.

  She took a seat across from the twins. Wyatt took the seat opposite her, with a table separating them.

  Bruce headed to the back of the plane, where he sat on one of the four club seats around what would be the dining table near the galley.

  Wyatt tried to meet Kate’s gaze, but she turned her face toward the boys and ignored him. She’d barely spoken a word since he’d given his ultimatum at her home, except to explain to the boys that they were going on a little vacation. Which suited him fine. At least she wasn’t saying or doing anything to make Lucky and Chance dislike him.

  Once they were at altitude, he got the boys settled watching WALL-E, where they were quickly engrossed. Bruce was in the galley fixing plates of pizza and handed Wyatt a can of soda for each of the boys.

  Kate stepped into the aisle and intercepted him close to the galley. “I don’t allow them to have carbonated beverages.”

  Wyatt grimaced. “What do they drink?”

  “Water. Or lemonade, if you have that.”

  “It’ll have to be water. Even with pizza?” he asked.

  “Water is the perfect beverage, Mr. Shaw.”

  He set the Coke cans down on a nearby table and stuck his hands on his hips. “Mr. Shaw?”

  She flushed. Her voice was low and intense and full of resentment. “How about Mr. Kidnapper? That fits.”

  “Look who’s talking,” he shot back, keeping his voice equally low, fighting the rage that rose every time he thought of all the years he’d lost with his sons. “You’re the one who kept my children hidden from me.”

  She didn’t excuse herself again. Or argue the point. “What am I supposed to call you?”

  “Wyatt. It’s my name. Or Shaw, if it suits you.”

  “All right, Shaw. There, is that better?”

  “Much. And I’d like my sons to call me something besides Mr. Shaw.”

  “Please, Shaw, don’t tell them you’re their father,” she pleaded. “Not yet. They’re too young to understand all of this.”

  “I don’t want the twins upset or frightened any more than you do. I can wait.”

  “Thank you.”

  He saw another flash of resentment before she lowered her gaze. Before he could express the resentment he was feeling at he
r resentment, she raised her eyes to his and said, “Why not have them call you Shaw, too, without the mister?”

  He supposed that was a good compromise. “All right,” he said grudgingly. At least until they knew the truth. By then he hoped they would want to call him Dad or Papa or Daddy. Because he was planning to spend the rest of his life being their father.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” he said to Kate, indicating one of two seats on either side of the table near the galley. He waited until she sat, then traded the Cokes for bottled water, crossed back to the boys, took off the caps and dropped the bottles into the recessed glass holders on each side of the table between them.

  “Pizza’s ready, Boss,” Bruce called from the galley.

  Kate rose. “Can I help?”

  “Bruce and I can handle it,” Wyatt said, returning down the aisle and putting a hand on her shoulder to encourage her to sit again.

  She jerked away from his touch, crying out as she hit her hip against the table.

  Lucky turned around in his seat. “Mom, are you all right?”

  “Just bumped into the table,” she called back in a falsely cheerful voice.

  Wyatt was amazed that the boy was so aware of his mother. Not nearly so surprised that Kate had kept her injury from her sons. She was still obviously in pain, holding her lower lip in her teeth to keep from crying out again.

  “You’re hurt,” he said softly.

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

  He glanced at the spot on her hip she was rubbing gently with her fingertips. He could remember what that exact spot of skin near her hipbone looked like. He’d kissed it. And caressed it.

  He met her gaze and saw from the troubled look in her eyes that she remembered, too. She shook her head as though to deny what she was feeling. Or perhaps to warn him that she had no intention of letting what had happened between them once happen ever again.

  She sank back down, but he could feel her eyes on him as he headed the few extra steps to the galley to get the plates of pizza Bruce had prepared for the boys.

  He wondered if Kate would be more amenable to the idea of him being a father to Lucky and Chance if she knew that he intended to spend the rest of his life with her as his wife.

  Probably not.

  Everything she’d said or done had made it clear that the sooner she was shed of Wyatt Shaw, the better. So how was he supposed to woo her? How was he supposed to win her heart?

  Especially when he’d been accused of murder.

  He wondered what she would do if he told her who he believed had actually strangled the woman found dead in his bed.

  Likely call him a liar.

  Until he found enough evidence to cast a giant shadow on that other party, he was going to remain the prime suspect in a murder investigation. So he could understand how she might be leery of him. He was ready for the fight he knew was coming when she realized what their sleeping arrangements were going to be at his ranch.

  “How did you know pepperoni’s my favorite, Mr. Shaw?” Lucky asked.

  “It was a ‘Lucky’ guess,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. Amazing what a little detective work of his own had turned up about his sons. “And you can call me Shaw, without the Mister.”

  Lucky pointed with his pizza, which he’d picked up in his hands and said, “Oh, I get it. A ‘Lucky’ guess. Very funny, Shaw.” He glanced at his mother and said, “That’s all right, Mom, isn’t it? He told me I could just call him Shaw.”

  “It’s fine, sweetheart,” Kate said.

  Her voice sounded choked to Wyatt, and when he looked, he saw tears had brimmed in her eyes. What was that all about?

  “You’re missing the movie,” Chance warned his brother.

  Wyatt crossed back to Kate and said, “Hungry?”

  “I think if I ate anything right now I’d throw up.”

  “How about something bubbly to settle your stomach,” he suggested.

  “Club soda sounds good.”

  He smiled wryly. “I was thinking of a glass of champagne.”

  She looked at him stony-faced and said, “I can think of nothing—nothing—about this moment I want to celebrate.”

  He leaned down and said through tight jaws, “There were two of us in that bed. You were as much responsible as I was for what happened there. We became parents that night. And you are not going to make me feel guilty for wanting to be a father to my sons!”

  He stood up and said, “Bruce, pop open that bottle of champagne.” When he looked down, he saw her eyes were once more brimmed with tears. He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and said, “I feel like celebrating.”

  8

  The impressively high river-rock walls that separated Wyatt Shaw’s ranch compound from the outside world were every bit as daunting as Kate had feared they would be. Her sons seemed not to notice when the beautiful black wrought iron electric gates, with the elaborate S in the center, closed behind them.

  Lucky and Chance sat on either side of Shaw in the black stretch limousine that had picked them up at his private airfield, talking a mile a minute as they quizzed him about what he had planned for their “vacation.”

  “I have a stable full of horses,” she heard him tell the boys. “But we can have your horses—”

  “Big Doc,” Lucky interjected.

  “And Little Doc,” Chance supplied.

  She watched Shaw smile indulgently as he finished, “Big Doc and Little Doc can be trailered here from San Antonio by tomorrow, if you’d rather ride your own mounts.”

  “You’d do that? Really?” Lucky asked.

  “Of course,” Shaw said.

  As though it cost nothing to trailer a couple of quarter horses halfway across the state. It was nothing to a wealthy man like Shaw, Kate realized.

  “Can we bring our dog here, too?” Lucky asked.

  “And our cat?” Chance added.

  Shaw glanced quickly at Kate. “You have a dog and a cat?”

  “We got them for our birthday last year,” Lucky said. “We had them with us at Jack’s ranch while Mom was in the hospital. Jack’s mom and dad, Uncle Frank and Aunt Rose, have been taking care of them for us. Harley and Scratch were supposed to come home this weekend. They must be missing us like crazy—”

  “Because we’re missing them,” Chance finished for his brother. “Please say they can come stay with us here.”

  “I don’t see why that couldn’t be arranged,” Shaw said. “If it’s all right with your mother.”

  “She doesn’t mind, do you, Mom?” Lucky said.

  “She loves Harley and Scratch,” Chance said.

  “Harley and Scratch?” Shaw repeated, eyeing Kate dubiously.

  “Harley’s our black Lab,” Lucky said. “He runs really fast, like our dad’s Harley-Davidson motorcycle.”

  “And Scratch…” Chance exchanged a chagrined look with Lucky, then glanced up at Shaw. “Well, you can guess how she got her name.”

  Shaw laughed. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

  Kate was beginning to understand there was far greater danger in having her sons spend time with Shaw than she’d ever imagined. He was going to spoil them rotten by giving them anything and everything their hearts desired. Including the attention from a father figure they were soaking up right now like sunshine.

  He was going to make them love him.

  They were never going to want to leave.

  Several times since this journey had started, Kate had contemplated grabbing the twins and running as far and as fast as she could. But even now, the giant who’d introduced himself as the children’s bodyguard followed in a smaller black limo behind them. There was no escape from this nightmare.

  At least, not yet. She wrapped her hand around the cell phone in her Levi’s pocket. She’d secretly tucked it there when she was packing. As soon as she had a moment alone, she was going to call Jack and tell him everything.

  He would understand. And he would help
her…if he could. Kate wasn’t sure how Jack’s undercover assignment was going to affect his ability to intervene. Especially in light of the fact the twins were Wyatt Shaw’s biological sons.

  She and her sons were captives for the moment, but Shaw wasn’t going to be able to keep them behind these walls for long. The boys had to go to school. And Shaw had promised she could work. There would be opportunities for escape.

  It might take some planning, but Wyatt Shaw would discover that she had weapons of her own with which to fight the war between them. Her grandfathers would help her. And her father and mother. And Jack would be there for her…when he wasn’t taking care of his wife and son.

  Kate felt sick. Did she dare bring the wrath of Wyatt Shaw down on her family? Or on Jack?

  Maybe the best thing to do was wait Shaw out. Being a father was a novelty right now. How would he react if the two little boys got sick all over his carpet or were cranky because they were feverish? He might not find it so much fun playing parent when the twins turned stubborn and defiant. How would he respond if they were mischievous? Or downright mean to him? All of which she’d experienced with her sons in their short lives.

  Once Shaw realized what being a parent was really all about, he might be as anxious to be rid of the twins as he’d been to have them come and live with him.

  She could always hope.

  The limo rolled to a stop in front of a sprawling, single-story house with white adobe walls and a red, barrel-tiled roof. Shaw’s home was half-hidden by flowering bougainvillea and draped by gnarled live oaks that provided cool shade from the hot Texas sun.

  Kate looked for windows, but didn’t see any. She felt her heartbeat ratchet up. How could anyone bear to live in a place so shut off from the light? She would feel suffocated in a house like that.

  A barrel-chested man in a long-sleeved plaid, western-cut shirt, worn blue jeans and cowboy boots opened the door to the limo and stood back as Shaw got out, the boys tumbling after him. Her sons headed straight for the German shepherd sitting beside him.

  Kate’s heart was in her throat, afraid the large dog would snap at them. When Shaw reached a hand back inside for her, she took it as the fastest way to get out of the limo.

 

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