Protecting Their Child

by Angi Morgan

  Serna’s men were lax and took too much for granted. The ones on the mountain were also probably dead.

  Dance with the devil and all that.

  * * *

  “GOOD GRIEF, JUST be still and let me finish.”

  “Ow.” She stuck the pad of her thumb in her mouth, her pink nail a slightly darker shade than her lips.

  “There. All done. I see you’re still having your nails done.” Cord looked at her toes, perfectly manicured, just like her fingertips.

  No matter how much she worked on the ranch, she didn’t miss her appointment for a mani-pedi. It was almost a ritual for her. He’d teased but never asked her to stop, because he liked it.

  “You always made fun of my nails.”

  He did like it. Liked that she took time for herself. She deserved it.

  So tell her. That shrink voice nagged him. His sessions were full of reasons he’d pushed people away. And every session ended with a question about Kate. The same question nagging him to answer right now.

  He’d avoided thinking about why he hadn’t contacted her since the divorce. Then during the last session his shrink had thrown out this thought-provoking moment: You know you can’t move forward until you face the past. And Kate is your past, Cord. If you expect change, you can’t continue to walk through life. Letting her go is necessary and it’s going to be painful.

  “What is it?” she asked. “You do think my nails are silly. Well, I don’t care. When all’s said and done, I still like to feel nice.” She pushed at his chest, trying to move past him in the little bathroom.

  His hands fell to her middle, holding her in place. “It’s not that. I was thinking about something else. Kate, I— Holy cow, what was that?” His hand was on the side of her belly. “I thought we just ate. That was a heck of a stomach gurgle.”

  “Cord, I think that...that’s the baby.” She put her hand over his, shifting his touch more to the center. “There. Feel that.”

  Their eyes met and all he could manage was a nod. He’d just thought the baby was real before. The depth of emotion welling inside him was about to erupt like the volcano that formed the mountains around them. He couldn’t label them or put words to them, but he knew they were there.

  “Is that the first time she’s moved?” he asked.

  She. Daughter.

  That eruption knocked the barricade he’d stashed his numb heart behind. He’d thought he’d hidden it deep under a cover of recovery. The tears welled in Kate’s eyes, her lower lip rolled between her teeth and she swayed backward.

  They’d shared something special, something only they could understand. And he’d screwed it up. Twisted it with a memory of pain.

  Say it. Tell her you’re sorry for being an insensitive jerk.

  He could fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness. Or he could ignore another moment she seemed to be waiting for words he didn’t have. How long had the minute lasted? Sixty seconds that time? Or three years of hurt?

  The amazing woman sighed—a new one he didn’t know. Then she squeezed his hands. Move on? It’s okay? God, he wished he was better at this.

  “It really is amazing. I’m glad you were here. Why do you think the baby’s a...a girl?” She stumbled over girl but recovered. “My bet’s on a boy. The McCreas always have a son to pass the Ranger badge to. Don’t they?”

  Was it wrong not to want a boy? There couldn’t be a replacement, but he wanted that little baby girl. He wanted to rock her in the antique crib Kate had found. She’d talked the dealer in Fredericksburg to lower his price and had scraped every spare dollar they had together for the purchase. The yellow-and-brown baby comforter was still hanging on the side.

  He clasped Kate’s free hand, bringing it to his lips. “That was quite a wallop of a kick.”

  “Or just a flip. I think she’s done now.” She moved away from him. “We need some rest.”

  “Right. As soon as the storm passes, we gotta move.” He stepped back, wanting to pull the woman carrying his child into his arms. He didn’t know what to think or assume. Didn’t know why feeling his child move made him want to make wild love to her. “You go lie down.”

  Kate walked away, not looking pregnant at all from behind. But he liked the pregnancy. It looked as good on her as the nail polish. Okay, not a perfect comparison for such a beautiful woman. He knew what the crazy thoughts firing through his mind meant. The same reason he couldn’t discuss Kate with his shrink. The same reason he hadn’t accepted Kate’s phone calls or texts or letters or heard her name without aching for the part of him that she’d completed.

  She’s not your wife anymore. She’d divorced him the morning after they’d made their baby. He knew that. He deserved that.

  He caught himself from falling with a hand on the counter. His legs were tired, but it was the scar that ached like a deep, wrenching wound. No physical reason that it should. The doctor said there wasn’t a reason for it. But there were three strong reasons: Shane, Sarah and a baby girl who never drew her first breath.

  He’d almost forgotten to cover the scar when he’d left the shower. Hopefully, Kate hadn’t noticed since he hadn’t faced her straight on. He pressed his palm into the scar, trying to ease the hurt.

  “Thanks for the hospitality, Juliet. I can do the laundry. Just point me in the right direction,” Kate said from the other room.

  He stood straight, surprised at Kate’s voice. He looked at his red-rimmed eyes and turned on the cold water to splash his face.

  “I won’t hear of it,” Mrs. Burke answered. “You both get some rest.”

  That’s what happened when he let emotions get caught in a loop in his head. His training dropped to nil. He hadn’t heard the door open. Pull yourself together. He sucked it up, stowed the distracting thoughts in an imaginary box and tucked the towel at his hips tighter.

  Get Kate to safety. First priority. Only priority.

  She was curled on top of the bed with a light blanket covering her. He wasn’t looking forward to the small desk chair in the corner where he planned on spending the afternoon.

  “You going to lie down in the other room?”

  “Go to sleep,” he directed. “I’m staying right here.”

  “In the chair?”

  “Yeah. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

  “Then come lie down.”

  “That’s not a good idea.” Just the thought of her spooning that pretty bottom into him got his blood flowing faster.

  “Good or bad, I’ll sleep sounder if you’re next to me and you’ll sleep better if your back is relaxed.”

  He lacked the ability to say no. As much as he wanted those emotions to stay under lock and key...they weren’t. He was just too tired and sore. He needed the comfort of stretching out and relaxing if he were going to fulfill his promise.

  But he wasn’t lying there naked. He’d already visited Burke’s bedroom and lifted some jeans and a T-shirt.

  “What are you doing?” Kate asked on a gasp.

  He turned around, stretching a leg into the stiff jeans. “Getting dressed.”

  She was leaning on one elbow. Her eyes were huge and her mouth a perfect O.

  “You’ve seen all this before, babe.”

  Tears dropped to her checks. She was seriously crying. What the h...? He zipped the loose pants and rushed to sit on the edge of the bed.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you. I didn’t think about getting dressed. I mean. I didn’t think you’d get mad about it. I sort of didn’t think about it at all.”

  “Shh. You didn’t do anything. It’s just that...I’ve never seen this.” She caressed the bullet scar in his chest with the tip of her finger, then down and around his side, leaning behind him. “Or this.”

  “Man, I’m sorry.” He tried to stand to get the shirt but Kate held him where he was.

  No one besides the doctor and nurse had ever seen let alone touched his back since the shooting. Certain, methodical hands he handled without a second thought. Their
praise at how well he’d healed always left him hollow. He didn’t feel healed. Not by a long shot.

  Whisper-soft strokes soothed him in a way he didn’t know existed. Kate’s fingers barely skimmed the puckered and stitched scars he had memorized in his mind. The places he couldn’t physically feel were worse. The touch disappeared, reminding him of so many times he’d yearned for it.

  Too emotionally raw to take any more, he jumped up and grabbed his shirt.

  She didn’t beg him to come back, just stretched her hand out in a gesture for him to return. And he did.

  For the first time since his partner had been murdered, he needed to trust those around him to keep watch. He drew the drapes to darken the room more than the storm already had and tried not to bounce the bed too much as he lay down.

  He put his arms under his head on the pillow and stared at the ceiling, careful not to touch Kate. But she had other ideas. She scooted that luscious bottom next to his hip.

  A familiar hand touched his side, tugging, wanting him to do what he feared the most. Snuggle. He turned, meticulously keeping his hands to himself. Kate laced her fingers with his and placed his palm on the baby.

  “I know it’s not forever and I hope you’ll forgive me for asking it of you. But right now, this minute,” she whispered, “I want to dream of our family.”

  God help me, but I’m going to let you.

  Chapter Ten

  “Thanks for putting us up, Mr. Burke,” Kate said when they entered the dining room. She could smell fresh bread every time the swinging door opened and someone brought another dish to the table.

  Cord followed her. Everything was ready for six people. Ron was seated at the head of the table, buttering a famous homemade biscuit. She was so hungry it was like she hadn’t eaten a huge plate of scrambled eggs and bacon before they’d cleaned up.

  “I think Juliet and Nick had a little more say in the matter than I did, but you’re welcome.” Mr. Burke bit into the biscuit, so hot the butter oozed out and dripped onto the plate.

  Ron Burke was a little younger than her dad and probably should lay off the butter considering he’d had a major heart attack the year before. Sometimes a wake-up call and sometimes not. He looked the same though, a tough old coot who had been a businessman before turning rancher.

  Being here brought back a rush of memories. When her mother had been alive, the Burkes had gotten together with her parents every other week. They’d shared so many stories about ranch work not being what they’d expected. Laughing about their missteps in taking over the ranch had been a weekly topic. After her mother died, the dinners had grown fewer and dwindled down to not at all.

  The sad part was that they’d bought this ranch from Mac, one of her dad’s best friends. Mac had withdrawn after taking the job of foreman here, in charge of the land that had been in his family for several generations.

  Standing at the door to the kitchen, Mac helped Mrs. Burke carry the rest of dinner to the table. Kate was glad to see him join them. There had been so many years where he’d been too embarrassed over losing the ranch to associate with any of the families in Valentine.

  “Hey, Mac, glad you could brave the weather to come for dinner.” She liked Mac, always had. “There isn’t a better cowboy in the county, or the next, or the next.”

  “I think someone’s probably passed me up by now. These old bones just ain’t what they used to be.”

  “Never,” she said faithfully, but didn’t receive a crack of a smile from him.

  Everyone joined Ron at the table. Nick had been silent in the corner, waiting with his arms crossed. He pulled out her chair, but Cord seated himself at her side. She didn’t want to giggle, but it was sort of fun to have them competing for her time again. Mrs. Burke gave her a knowing smile and Mac just shook his head.

  “You going to tell us what’s going on?” Ron asked, loading his mouth with a bite of pork chop, his plate already laden with food.

  Cord shrugged. “You know the basics. Jorje Serna vowed to kill Kate and then me. He was released yesterday and Kate needs to get to safety.”

  “Why didn’t you head back to your place? I mean Danver’s, or utilize the sheriff? Seems like that would have been faster than crossing the dang mountain,” Ron stated. He didn’t even look at them. “Took all the hands from their work to search for you.”

  “Dad, give it up,” Nick insisted. “It wasn’t like they could do a lot with the threat of the storm anyway. We got everything ready yesterday.”

  “Aren’t you curious?” Ron asked his son.

  Mac and Juliet silently ate their dinner, either ignoring or totally used to the father-son arguments.

  “Cord’s a Texas Ranger, sir,” Kate explained, hating that everyone thought they had a right to know, for some odd reason. “He can’t really talk about his investigations. It’s always been that way. So naturally, we shouldn’t say what we saw or what happened.”

  Did anyone else at the table notice her voice change? Maybe Juliet, since she’d actually looked up. She sounded so full of regret and sadness. If she wasn’t careful, she’d remember everything that had happened this morning. She wanted to forget. She could still feel the Remington’s reverb against her shoulder. She rubbed it and was surprised at how bruised she felt.

  “Sorry, Ron. It’s simple really,” Cord said. “Coming here seemed a safer option than returning to Kate’s.”

  Her husband had never wanted to discuss his cases with her. Had always thought it was too dangerous. Then they’d been threatened. And threatened again. And ambushed. And he’d still held back details. The thought should make her angry—angrier—but she wasn’t. She was proud that he’d kept his oath to the Rangers. But the world had changed. There wasn’t honor among thieves and there were no boundaries on the casualties of war.

  “The news said Frank Stewart was murdered.” Nick put his fork across his half-eaten plate. “That true? Someone got the jump on Frank?”

  “Shame about Frank. Now there was a good man. Your daddy liked him a lot,” Ron said, and added another bite of gravy and biscuit to his mouth.

  As good as she knew the food to be, it tasted like dry, lifeless cardboard. Oh, good Lord. She was about to lose it. She tuned everyone at the table out. Concentrated on the fork. One bite. Just one.

  Too many thoughts swimming in her head. Regrets or mistakes? Death. Killing. She bit her lip to stop. Took another bite of biscuit and thought she’d choke. Half a glass of water, Frank’s name, a chuckle, the words “was such a good man.” How could she get out of here?

  * * *

  CORD WAS RELIEVED the conversation had turned reminiscent and the focus was off what had happened on the mountain. Curious how no one had asked if they’d run into trouble. Of course, Kate had sort of told them not to.

  “Now that dinner’s over, I for one would like to know what really happened out there. Why did you insist on talking to the sheriff alone, McCrea?” Nick Burke looked between Cord and Kate.

  Spoke too soon. Kate stiffened beside him. Others might not see it, but he did. Her eyes were too shiny. Tears. She was about to cry. Had to be because of the pilot, the guy she’d killed. The events of the past two days were catching up with her. She couldn’t do this to herself. He couldn’t let her do this to herself.

  “Thanks for a great dinner, Mrs. Burke,” he said, pointedly ignoring the question about their activities. He pushed away from the table and tugged on Kate’s chair.

  “Now, Cord, if you don’t start calling me Juliet, I’m going to get a complex.”

  Probably the most genuine person in the room, Burke’s mother reminded him a lot of his own. He’d love to pick up the phone and tell her about the baby. Shoot, maybe she already knew. Shake it off, man. Get Kate out of here.

  “I’ll say it again, but I hope I can make gravy like that one day,” Kate said, placing her napkin on her plate.

  “Just come over a couple of more times and Mom can give you lessons,” Nick spouted, covering Ka
te’s hand and squeezing.

  She’s your ex, and can leave her hand wherever she wants. Get over it.

  “A lesson would be nice. Maybe after all this is over and done with I’ll have some time.”

  Kate looked up at only him, expressing a pleading look of “save me.” Was it his wishful thinking that she didn’t want her hand under Burke’s? Or just didn’t want to make small talk about gravy lessons? Either way, the strain and tears were still in her eyes. Time to go.

  “Sorry again to impose on you like this, but it’s much appreciated. I’m done in. How ’bout you, Kate?”

  “I hardly slept last night. I think I’ll say good night.” She finally stood and joined him.

  Cord had his hand on her lower back, guiding her to walk into the hall first when Burke reached out. The sturdy control on his forearm wasn’t a casual stop. Neither was the look from Kate’s former beau.

  “Mom said the guest room’s ready.”

  “Not necessary since I’m not leaving Kate’s side.”

  “Listen, McCrea.” Burke stood, facing him toe-to-toe, dropping his voice to a threatening whisper. “Next time you want some pants, just ask.”

  Cord replied with a raised eyebrow. Let Burke interpret it any way he wanted. Kate was waiting in the doorway. Cord turned back to Mrs. Burke, pulling free from her son’s grip. “If it’s okay with you, Juliet, I might just have seconds on those biscuits and gravy later.”

  “That’s fine, dear. Just fine. Glad you like ’em.”

  When he looked back at Kate, it wasn’t the threat of tears he saw in her eyes. Nope, that long sigh and the slight shake of her head meant she was disappointed. Again or always.

  He closed the bedroom door behind them and turned the lock. Not real protection, but it would have to do. Kate’s hands were balled and planted on her hips. He knew the routine and it wasn’t something he wanted at the moment. Arguing about his behavior would just avoid what she needed. Yeah, that pattern was something he’d become an authority on in the past three years. He’d mastered the process to perfection.

  “You didn’t ask for his jeans?”