by Rita Herron
Had something bad happened to Kat and CeCe?
Kaylie hugged CeCe to her, rocking her back and forth. Her daughter had been terrified and screaming when the SUV had ground to a stop. “Shh, it’s okay, baby, we’re all right.”
“But you screamed,” CeCe whispered. “And I was scared, Mommy.”
“I know and I’m sorry,” Kaylie said, wishing she could shield her daughter from everything bad in life.
But she hadn’t. She and Joe had both failed.
Thankfully the car that had hit them had zoomed on past. For a horrifying second, she’d thought he was going to whip around and hit her again, but a truck had driven by, and if the driver of the car had intended to come back, he changed his mind.
Headlights lit the road, the sound of another truck rumbling to a halt making her stiffen. She glanced back and saw the lights dim, then flicker off, and recognized Mitch’s black pickup truck.
Nerves gathered in her stomach. She’d hoped to get them out of the ditch and back to the ranch without Mitch being aware of her accident. But he parked and strode toward her, that confident cowboy swagger sending a mixture of relief and trepidation through her.
“Mommy?” CeCe sniffled.
“It’s okay, honey. Mr. Mitch is here.”
CeCe relaxed in her arms and wiped at her eyes. “He’ll take care of us, won’t he, Mommy?”
Kaylie didn’t know how to respond. She’d once trusted Joe to take care of them, and he’d been murdered in their house. Then she’d trusted the police, but Arnold and Rafferty had both been shot on the job.
Now she had no one to depend on but herself.
Mitch rapped on the window and opened her car door, and Kaylie braced herself.
“Kat, are you and CeCe okay?”
The tenderness and worry in his deep, gruff voice tore at her composure, and she gulped back a sob.
He cupped her face in his hands to examine her, then lifted CeCe’s chin. “Are you hurt, Kat? Sweetpea?”
“We’re fine,” Kaylie said.
“I was scared,” CeCe cried. “And Mommy screamed real loud.”
Kaylie blinked back tears, but Mitch must have seen them because he stooped down beside them and pulled them both into his arms.
Kaylie collapsed against him, savoring the feel of his comforting embrace. She gave herself a few minutes to stop shaking, then summoned her courage.
Mitch thumbed her hair away from her face as he searched her eyes. “What happened?”
“It was just an accident,” Kaylie said in a low voice.
“This car hitted us!” CeCe cried. “He made us runned off the road.”
Anger slashed Mitch’s features. “Is that true, Kat?”
She wanted to lie. To take CeCe and run.
But Christmas was two days away, and CeCe had been happier the last week than she had in months.
Poor CeCe had lost so much already.
Didn’t her daughter deserve to at least have Santa visit before they had to run again?
Mitch held Kat and her daughter until they both stopped trembling. When Kat pulled away, her face was flushed, her breathing erratic.
“Did you see the car that hit you?” Mitch asked.
She shook her head. “No, the lights blinded me.”
Mitch reached for his phone. “We should report this to the sheriff.”
Panic flared in Kat’s eyes. “No, no sheriff.”
Suspicions rose in his mind. “Why not? This was a hit and run.”
“I’m sure it was an accident,” Kat said. “Besides, I told you I didn’t see the vehicle or driver.” She pressed a hand to her daughter’s cheek. “And we’re okay, aren’t we, CeCe?”
CeCe nodded, although her expression indicated that she wasn’t okay at all. She was terrified.
“Then I’ll call a tow truck.”
Kat shook her head again. “Let’s just see if we can get my SUV out of the ditch. I think it’s still drivable.”
Mitch hesitated. He wished to hell Kat would tell him the truth about what was going on, but she seemed hell-bent on clinging to her secrets. Maybe her husband really wasn’t dead. She could have kidnapped her daughter to escape him and simply told CeCe that he’d gone to heaven.
“All right. You and CeCe sit in my truck, and I’ll see what I can do.”
Mitch waited until they were tucked safely inside his pickup, then cranked the engine to the SUV. It took him fifteen minutes of maneuvering to extract the Pathfinder from the ditch, but Kat was right, the vehicle was drivable and hadn’t sustained any serious damage. A dent in the front fender, but that was it.
He parked in front of his truck, climbed out and met her as she and CeCe jumped from his truck.
“Thank you, Mitch.”
His gaze met hers, but she averted her eyes. “You’re welcome. I’ll follow you back to the ranch.”
CeCe tugged on Mitch’s hand. “Can I ride in your truck?”
“Sure, if your mom says it’s okay.”
Kat frowned. “Not tonight, baby. I want you to keep Mommy company.”
CeCe started to protest, but Kat ushered her toward the car. “If you want to make those cookies, do as Mommy says.”
That quieted CeCe, and she crawled in the back seat of the Pathfinder and hugged her rag doll to her chest.
Mitch went to his truck and followed them home, his gut instincts warning him that tonight’s accident had shaken up Kat more than she wanted to admit.
That she might run.
But the thought of these two vulnerable females on their own with an attacker after them made his blood boil.
No way in hell he’d let them go.
Her fingerprints might not have been in the system, but he’d lift one of those fake IDs and run her picture through the DMV.
Then he’d learn who she really was and why she was squatting in his house.
Kaylie tucked CeCe into bed, her pulse still unsteady from the accident. What if CeCe had been hurt in the crash?
She couldn’t lose her daughter.
“Mommy, can I still ride Horseshoe tomorrow?” CeCe asked.
The resilience of children amazed her. Of course, Mitch’s presence had comforted both of them.
She couldn’t get used to it.
“Yes, sweetie.” But as soon as Christmas was over, they had to move on.
And do what? Keep running forever?
No, just until Buckham was caught.
“Now, get some sleep, honey.” Kaylie brushed her daughter’s hair from her cheek. “Tomorrow we’ll make curtains for this room, then bake cookies.”
“And ride with Mr. Mitch?”
Kaylie released a tired breath. “Yes, and ride with Mr. Mitch.”
She kissed her daughter’s forehead, slipped from the room and closed the door. She’d hoped Mitch was gone, but he was waiting downstairs in the kitchen.
His eyes darkened as she entered. “Is she really okay?”
Kaylie nodded. “She’s so excited about her riding lesson tomorrow that she’s already forgotten about the accident.”
“How about you?” Mitch asked.
A shiver rippled up Kaylie’s spine. “I’m fine. Thanks for helping us tonight.”
A muscle ticked in Mitch’s cheek. “No problem. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, Kat, and I’ll do even more.”
Kaylie tensed. She’d listened to the radio on the way back to the ranch, hoping to hear that Buckham was back in jail, but the news reporter said the manhunt was still underway.
They were also still looking for her for questioning about Joe’s death.
Mitch lifted her chin with his thumb. “Kat, talk to me.”
“Nothing’s going on, Mitch. Just let it go.”
Mitch took her hands in his and
forced her to look at him. “You’re scared of something. I see it in your eyes.”
“Mitch, please—”
“You can trust me, Kat. Talk to me.”
Kaylie ached to do just that. She’d been on her own too long, running from Buckham and now whoever was working with him.
But Arnold and Rafferty were murdered, and until she knew who’d killed them, she couldn’t trust anyone.
Besides, trusting Mitch would make him a target.
“I’m tired, Mitch. Please just go.” And don’t ask any more of me.
Not when she was so close to the breaking point that she felt herself shattering from the inside out.
“Kat, I want to help.” His voice cracked. “Please let me.”
“You did help,” she said, her resolve strengthening.
His fingers softened around her arms, his gaze latching with hers. She was suddenly drowning in his bedroom eyes. Seduced into safety by his touch.
Then he lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers, and she lost herself in his kiss.
CeCe curled up with her doll and closed her eyes, but she kept seeing that ditch coming for her and her mommy, and she wanted to scream again.
She bit her tongue though. She didn’t want to scare her mommy. And she didn’t want Mr. Mitch to think she was a big fat crybaby.
She wasn’t no crybaby, but she was scared whoever hitted her and Mommy would come back and hit them again, or shoot them like that bad man shot her daddy.
Her stomach hurt, and she opened her eyes and looked up at the window. The moon glowed like a big orange ball through the window.
Maybe Mommy would make those curtains tomorrow so the moon couldn’t see inside. So nobody could.
Cause if the bad man looked through the window, he’d find her, and then she’d be bloody and dead like daddy.
Tears pushed at her eyes. She missed her daddy somethin’ awful.
’Cept she liked Mr. Mitch and that made her feel good and bad at the same time. It felt good when he wrapped his big arms around her and Mommy like nothing could hurt them as long as Mr. Mitch held them.
But she shouldn’t like him so much, not when he wasn’t her daddy. Would Daddy be mad that she liked Mr. Mitch?
She liked his horsie and the ranch here, and she liked Todd. He was her new best friend. He told her secrets about the rocks he and his daddy used to pick out of the creek. He showed her some special toys under the bed and said she could play with them. There were farm animals and a stable and horses.
She didn’t want to leave. But on the way home Mommy said they’d have to after Santa Claus came.
She wanted Santa to bring her that kitty cat so bad. And maybe a horsie like Horseshoe.
And maybe even a new daddy like Mr. Mitch . . .
She missed her own one ’cept there were things she hadn’t told her mommy, like about the big, fat mean man who came to see her daddy when her mommy was out buying chicken to fry one day, and the time she heard her daddy cussing on the phone with someone.
Then he’d strung that key on a ribbon and made a necklace for her dollie with it and said she had to keep the key safe for him. He’d hidden some money in a bag and made her promise not to tell or else he’d give her a spanking.
She wondered if Mr. Mitch kept secrets or if he’d spank his little girl if he had one.
Mitch deepened the kiss, his body humming to life as if it had been asleep for decades.
Kat tasted sweet and delicious, and he sensed a hunger inside her that rivaled his own.
Except she had just been shaken by an accident, and he was taking advantage of her vulnerability.
Still, he liked the way she felt in his arms. The soft purr of her breath as she leaned into him. The way her body fit against his.
The feminine scent that heated his blood and reminded him that he was alive.Guilt slammed into him. How could he enjoy kissing another woman, taking pleasure from her, when his wife and son had died because of him?
He pulled away, his breath heaving out as he released Kat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Kat looked just as stricken as he felt. “Just go, Mitch. Please go.”
The quiver in her voice alarmed him. Was she afraid of him physically?
Or afraid of what she felt? Because she had felt the heat between them just as he had. That was obvious from the way she’d dug her fingers into his back and pulled him closer.
“Kat?”
“Please, Mitch. I need to check on CeCe.”
He gave a clipped nod and let her go, although he realized she was making an excuse to put some distance between them.
That was fine. He needed distance himself.
She disappeared up the steps, and he turned to leave. But the sight of the clean house with the placemats and decorations caught him off guard again.
Kat had turned the farmhouse into a home. Not just a house, but it felt warm and inviting. For a brief second, he saw Todd racing through the hallway chasing CeCe and laughing.
Pain seared him, and he threw open the front door and rushed outside. He leaned over the porch rail, gulping in a breath to relieve the nausea building inside him as he looked across the ranch.
Moonlight streaked the horizon, a cool breeze stirring the trees and tossing dried leaves across the land. Maybe he’d visit Jack Daniels tonight.
Distract himself from thinking about the gorgeous blonde who was turning him inside out with her sweet smile and homemaking, and her cherub daughter who laughed like an angel.
Even more disturbing, he sensed neither of them had laughed for a while just as he hadn’t.
In the distance, headlights flickered along the dusty road leading to the ranch.
Mitch squared his shoulders and focused on the vehicle. It slowed as if it might turn, then went on, but the hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
No Jack for him tonight. He had to remain alert.
Was the driver looking for something? Could he have been the one who’d hit Kat and driven her and CeCe off the road?
If he was, what did he want?
Kaylie was so shaken by the kiss she locked herself in the bedroom, slipped on her pjs, turned on the television and crawled in bed. A horror movie was playing so she switched channels and stumbled on the news.
“There is still a manhunt underway for Larry Buckham, a man convicted of murdering Joe Whittaker and two other families in Texas. Although Buckham was convicted, his attorney has filed an appeal citing new evidence that proves he is not the serial killer, the Family Man.”
The reporter turned to a woman dressed in a designer suit with lacquered red hair and square glasses. “Buckham’s attorney, Willa Barnaby, is here to discuss the case.”
“I regret that my client Larry Buckham escaped from prison when we were so close to his appeal being granted and his case being reexamined. Although Joe Whittaker’s wife testified against Mr. Buckham, the DA made a strong case that painted him as being the serial murderer who gunned down several families in their homes. This implication swayed the jury to convict him, and strongly influenced the judge’s decision in sentencing. However, the prosecutor supplied no concrete evidence to link Buckham to the other crimes. Based on that fact, I’m requesting a new investigation and Mr. Buckham’s case to be reopened.
“This morning, I spoke with police who confirm that they are looking into Mr. Whittaker’s finances and the fact that he might have been laundering money. With that information at hand, investigators may focus on enemies Whittaker made through his business.”
The newscaster held up a finger. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, Ms. Barnaby, but news has just come in regarding the murder of another Texas family.”
Kaylie sat up straighter, glued to the television. First of all, she knew Larry Buckham had killed Joe. She had heard his gravell
y voice.
Hadn’t she?
And what was that business about Joe laundering money? Joe would never . . .
Snippets of conversations spoken in hushed voices, of late-night phone calls, of weekend business trips, taunted her, and a cold chill engulfed her.
Had Joe somehow gotten himself in trouble?
“This late breaking story in,” the reporter said as the camera focused on the outside of a Texas stucco home in a small town called Bend Creek. “A woman, man, and their two teenage sons were murdered in their home tonight. Neighbors reported hearing a commotion at the house a half hour ago, and someone called 911. By the time the police arrived, the family was dead, the killer gone.”
The camera showed the police surrounding the house, blue lights swirling, officers combing the property.
“While police can’t confirm that the killer is the same man who murdered the other families, they have admitted that the MO is the same. If you have any information regarding this crime, please call the police.”
Kaylie worried her lower lip with her teeth. First, Buckham’s lawyer was trying to convince people he was innocent.
But no other families had been murdered while he was in prison suggesting he was guilty.
But now he was on the loose, another family had died. A family from Bend Creek. Bend Creek was only twenty miles from Twin Branches.
She clenched the sheets with clammy hands.
Had Buckham killed them? And if so, why Bend Creek? Was he trying to let her know that he was close by? That he knew where she was hiding?
She slid off the bed and paced the room, then checked out the window. The ranch looked quiet. Serene.
But she felt anything but peaceful.
She was tempted to call Mitch and ask him to stay the night.
And kiss her again.
But that would be stupid and dangerous.
For CeCe’s sake, she had to play it smart and not allow her emotions to rule her decisions.
The reporter’s comment about Joe and money laundering hacked at her conscience. Joe had handled other people’s money, wealthy people.