Cowboy in the Crossfire

Cowboy in the Crossfire Robin Perini Unjust accusations shattered Blake Redmond's big-city police career–and destroyed everything around him. Now, all this sheriff lives for is keeping watch over his small Texas town…until Amanda Hawthorne and her five-year-old son come fleeing out of a snowstorm with killers on their trail. The terror Blake sees in the young boy's eyes makes Blake swear to protect him and his injured mother. But winning Amanda's trust is as difficult as resisting the passion drawing him to this beautiful, determined woman. With their every move thwarted and time running out, the only way Blake can clear his name and save this little family is to confront his own dangerous past–no matter what the cost. She's the one piece of his past this cowboy can't escape Unjust accusations shattered Blake Redmond’s big-city police career—and destroyed everything around him. Now, all this sheriff lives for is keeping watch over his small Texas town…until Amanda Hawthorne and her five-year-old son come fleeing out of a snowstorm with killers on their trail. The terror Blake sees in the young boy’s eyes makes Blake swear to protect him and his injured mother. But winning Amanda’s trust is as difficult as resisting the passion drawing him to this beautiful, determined woman. With their every move thwarted and time running out, the only way Blake can clear his name and save this little family is to confront his own dangerous past—no matter what the cost. “I have to disappear, Blake. I can’t stay.” Amanda’s heart pounded in anticipation even as she uttered the halfhearted resistance. “I always wondered,” Blake whispered, “if you really tasted as good as I remembered.” He rubbed his thumb on her lower lip. “May I?” She didn’t think, just nodded her head. With a deep groan, he took her lips with a force that made Amanda whimper. No one had ever kissed her as if he was too hungry to let her go. He wrapped her in his arms, and when he pressed her lips open, she gladly let him in. She pressed closer to Blake, her breasts crushing against his broad chest. Heat sprang between them, and her body sizzled with want. Low in her belly, the recognition of her yearning for this man kindled something she hadn’t felt in too long. Amanda rubbed her hands over the strength of his muscles, the broadness of his shoulders, the narrowness at his waist. His response to her touch was primal and immediate. Blake wanted her. As much as she wanted him.... Cowboy in the Crossfire Robin Perini www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) ABOUT THE AUTHOR Award-winning author Robin Perini’s love of heart stopping suspense and poignant romance, coupled with her adoration of high-tech weaponry and covert ops, encouraged her secret inner commando to take on the challenge of writing romantic suspense novels. Her mission’s motto: “When danger and romance collide, no heart is safe.” Devoted to giving her readers fast-paced, high-stakes adventures with a love story sure to melt their hearts, Robin won the prestigious Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award in 2011. By day she works for an advanced technology corporation, and in her spare time you might find her giving one of her many nationally acclaimed writing workshops or training in competitive small-bore rifle silhouette shooting. Robin loves to interact with readers. You can catch her on her website, www.robinperini.com (http://www.robinperini.com), several major social-networking sites or write to her at P.O. Box 50472, Albuquerque, NM 87181-0472. CAST OF CHARACTERS Amanda Hawthorne—Determined to protect her son from a murderer, and out of options, she must seek help from the disgraced cop who her brother framed. Blake Redmond—This by-the-book sheriff never crosses the line. Can he ignore his badge to protect a fugitive and her son from those willing to kill anyone who gets in their way? Ethan Hawthorne—Amanda’s son can identify his uncle’s killer. Now the five-year-old witness is the next target. Logan Carmichael—Blake trusts the private investigator with his and Amanda’s lives, but will Logan stay loyal when powerful forces threaten to take away everything he holds dear? Vince Hawthorne—His secrets got him killed. Can Blake and Amanda find the evidence Vince left behind in time to save Ethan’s life? Shaun O’Connor—Why does the Internal Affairs cop offer to help? Is he out for justice or is he involved in murder? Paul Irving—The lieutenant tried to save Blake’s job. Is Paul now a target? Matt Johnson—The detective got in over his head. Can he find a way out? Rafe Vargas—The former special ops soldier knows how to kill. Can his loyalty be bought? Deputy Parris—Blake’s right-hand man was in line to be sheriff until Blake returned to Carder, Texas. Does Parris want the job at any cost? For my dad—my hero. His love for our family inspires me. He taught me that a man can be tough and tender, strong and loyal, wise and funny—and he taught me to shoot and dragged me all over West Texas on adventures, which came in mighty handy while writing this book! I love you, Dad. Always! Contents Chapter One (#uc2fd3fcd-d843-5295-bf3b-f9aae365efa4) Chapter Two (#u5003e0a2-2a9d-54c0-8738-e18a15337287) Chapter Three (#uf4b5e840-498f-5435-976c-844f702c90ef) Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo) Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo) Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter One A wicked gust of winter wind buffeted Amanda Hawthorne toward the front entrance of her brother’s home. She wrapped her flimsy coat tighter around her body and lowered her head. Another cold blast nearly knocked her down. Even the weather fought to keep her out of Vince’s house. Well, this freak ice storm wouldn’t win, and neither would her brother. He’d be furious, but she was staying. Just until she found another job. She breathed in, hoping to kill the perpetual French-fry smell that permeated her clothes from her final shift at Jimmy’s Chicken Shack. She could have lived with the odor and her aching feet, but she couldn’t take his octopus hands, his foul breath or his large body trapping her against the wall in his storage room. She shuddered at the memory. She wouldn’t go back. But first, she had to face Vince. With a deep breath, she unlocked the door. “Big brother, I’ve got bad news. You may have houseguests for a while—” Her voice trailed off. The photos that had lined the entryway hall lay shattered on the tile floor. The small table near the doorway teetered on its side, crushed. “Vince?” Her heart thumped like a panicked rabbit. She ran into the living room. The place was in shambles. “Ethan?” Oh, God. Where was her son? She rounded the couch and skidded to a halt. Vince lay on the floor in a pool of blood, eyes staring up at her, sightless. A hole in his chest, a gun in his hand. Her knees shook and she swayed. No. She whirled around the room, frantic, searching. “Ethan!” she screamed. He had to be here. He had to be okay. He was only five. “Ethan, where are you?” Deadly silence echoed through the house. Her body went numb. This couldn’t be happening. Her son was her life. Then she saw it. A small, bloody footprint on the wood floor. Streaks of red trailed across the carpet toward the entertainment center. So much blood. Too much blood. “No!” A horrified, wounded cry ricocheted through the quiet room. The sound came from her. Shaking, her mind whirling through unthinkable images, she followed the blood to the cabinet. Sobs clutched her throat as she tossed aside a slew of DVDs dumped in front of the oak furniture. Bracing herself for the worst, she held her breath and opened the door. Empty. She clutched at the wood to keep herself from collapsing. “Ethan!” Her stomach roiled. She should never have left him. Ever! A choked whimper broke from behind another section on the unit. “Ethan?” She snatched the brass handle and yanked it open to reveal her five-year-old huddled in a ball, rocking back and forth. Alive. Amanda’s knees quaked with relief. She couldn’t stop the tears that poured down her face. Her son was alive. She snatched him from the cabinet and folded him into her arms. She couldn’t stop touching him. His arms, his legs, his hair, his tear-streaked face. With a trembling hand, she stroked his blood-stained pants. “Are you hurt?” He shook his head. “U-Uncle Vince.” “I know, little man. I know.” She rocked him back and forth, her chin on his soft hair. His small arms clung to her as if he would never let her go. “It’s okay. Mommy’s here.” She repeated the words over and over again, as much for herself as for Ethan. She shot up a thankful prayer, then her gaze fell to her brother’s body. Blindly, Amanda searched for the cell in her pocket to call 9-1-1. She pulled out the phone and started dialing. Ethan grabbed her hand, his eyes wild with panic. “No, Mommy. Uncle Vince said for us to run away.” She clasped Ethan to her, trying to calm him even as an icy wave of terror threatened to freeze her from the inside. Vince had been a stand-and-fight kind of guy. A cop. If he’d said that, then they weren’t safe in this house. Maybe not safe anywhere. “Where?” she murmured. “Where can we go?” Ethan wrapped his arms tight and squeezed. “Blake. Go to Blake,” he whispered in her ear, his voice shaking with a terror no child should ever feel. She stilled. “Where did you hear that name, little man?” “Uncle Vince.” Ethan buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Go to Blake.” Ethan stuck his thumb in his mouth, something he hadn’t done in over a year. Go to Blake? Why would Vince say such a thing? Blake Redmond hated her brother. No way was she going to Blake for anything. She’d take care of herself and her son. Pressing Ethan’s face against her shoulder, she ran to her brother’s body. With a gulp, she crouched down. She snatched the gun from Vince’s hand for protection, hurried to his desk and wrenched open the drawer. Thank goodness. The grocery money was still in the bank bag. She stuffed it and the gun into her purse. Amanda carried Ethan to the front hallway, pried her son’s arms from around her and set him down. “We’re getting out of here, Ethan.” She kissed his forehead, then bundled him into his navy-and-orange coat, scarf and gloves. She tugged on his hat and covered his ears. Ethan sneaked a look into the living room at Vince, and his face went blank. He’d shut down. Amanda gave his hat a last tug. “Don’t worry, Mommy will take care of you.” With Ethan in her arms, she raced out of Vince’s house into the cold late-November night. How would she ever make things all right? She had nowhere to go, no one to help her. She only knew they had to get away. Hands shaking, she unlocked the car, tossed her purse inside and settled Ethan into his booster seat. He scooted back. She brushed his hair aside. “We’ll be safe.” Someone grabbed her from behind. “You won’t keep the promise,” the deep voice sounded in her ear. Amanda whirled around. A man in a ski mask loomed above her. She shot a panicked glance to the car. The gun was still in her purse. She reached into her pocket for her phone. The man grabbed the cell, threw it to the ground and rammed her against the car. “Where did Vince hide it?” “What are you—” “No games.” His grip tightened. “Tell me, and you and the kid live.” The cold look in his eyes belied his words. He’d never let them go. “Where’s Vince’s file?” The man’s arm pinned her neck. He pressed against her windpipe, harder and harder. She gasped for air, tried to pry him away. Stars exploded in front of her. Blackness threatened to swallow her whole. Oh, God. She was dying. “Mommy!” At Ethan’s scream, the man’s hold slackened. Just enough. “No!” she choked. Aiming for his knee, Amanda kicked out hard. She heard a sickening pop. With a shout, he fell to the ground, clutching his leg. She dived into the front seat, shoved the key into the ignition and jammed the car into gear. The attacker struggled to his feet, cursing at her. Amanda backed through Vince’s front yard and spun into the street. Shots rang out, followed by the thwack of bullets hitting metal. Fire seared across her side. Half-crazy with shock and fear, she punched the accelerator. Her car jerked forward and sped down the street, but not before she saw the man limp to his car and start after them. He would not get Ethan. She’d die first. In desperation, she screeched around a turn into an alley. Headlights followed dizzyingly in her rearview mirror. She had to lose him. “Are you all right, Ethan?” His panicked whimper was the only sound from the backseat. Oh, no. Had he been hit? She twisted around to check on him even as pain sliced across her ribs. Fighting through the agony, she scanned her son. He was in shock but looked unhurt. Unlike herself. Amanda pressed her palm hard against her side. It was warm and wet. She stared at her hand. It was red. Very, very red. She’d been shot. Right through the door. Her panting matched Ethan’s. Her fingers had gone numb with cold. She had to stop the bleeding or she’d pass out. She gripped the steering wheel tight. Think, Amanda. Think of someplace safe to stop. A quick right, then left brought her to a dark side street. She floored it and streaked toward Main. With a quick prayer, she skidded to a halt in a parking lot full of cars and turned off the engine and lights. “Duck, Ethan. Hide.” He slid out of the booster seat and sank to the floorboard. Trying to ignore the pulsing pain in her side, Amanda crouched low against the cracked vinyl. With one hand she reached back and stroked Ethan’s head, buried in his arms. She tried to comfort him without words, but his body trembled, and her heart ached. With the other hand, she searched her purse for the gun. Holding the weapon firmly, she shrank down even more and gripped the butt hard. Her fingers shook. Please, let her live. Let her keep Ethan safe. The cold seeped into her skin. Every shallow breath turned into a visible wisp of air. “Mommy? I’m scared.” Ethan’s small voice pierced her heart. “We’re okay, little man.” She kept her voice calm and reassuring, while inside the panic had her heart galloping. “We just have to be very, very quiet.” “So the bad man doesn’t find us?” “Yes, sweetie. Hush now.” His sniffles were the only sound as she waited. Headlights passed by, but she couldn’t chance raising her head. Her fingers cramped around the metal of the gun. She stayed still. Seconds dragged into minutes as she waited, praying no one would see or hear anything. After what seemed an eternity, Amanda sagged against the seat. “I think it’s safe.” At her words, Ethan scrambled into the front and dived into her arms, his face streaked with tears. She fought not to cry out in pain, but couldn’t stop a small gasp. He leaped back. “Are you hurt? Like Uncle Vince?” “I’m fine, honey. Just fine.” But she wasn’t. And she knew it. She grabbed her thin scarf and used one end to pad her wound, the other she wrapped around her torso. The makeshift bandage would have to do. She had bigger problems. The gunman knew her. He’d seen Ethan. The bullet-ridden car would be easy to spot, and she couldn’t risk being found. Vince had warned her if anything bad happened to him not to stay in Austin. No matter what. She had to get out. Amanda scanned the parking lot. Her ex’s penchant for stealing cars would come in handy. She could use the lock jimmy Ethan’s father had left under the seat to break in to and hot-wire a car. She clutched the handle, but the simple movement nearly tore her insides. She bit her lip. If anything happened to her… She stared at Ethan, his lips trembling, his expression haunted. They needed help. Gritting her teeth, she slipped out of the car and into the night. She had no choice. She had to go to Blake. * * * SHERIFF BLAKE REDMOND paced the wooden floor, nerves wound tighter than an overcinched saddle. He had a bad feeling about tonight but didn’t know why. Sleet pounded the roof, hammering the century-old ranch house with what the Weather Channel had termed the worst ice storm in decades. Four-foot-long icicles and West Texas didn’t go together. Below-freezing temperatures and unrelenting ice made travel deadly. He’d issued an order hours ago for folks in his county to hunker down until further notice, but there were always those fools who didn’t listen. A whine escaped the Lab mix curled on the rug next to the fire. “I know, boy.” Blake glanced at the old police radio sitting silent on the hand-carved sofa table. He’d spent several hours tinkering with the ancient equipment. A few paper clips and pencil erasers strategically placed, and it worked like a new one. “Gonna be a long night, Leo.” The dog rose and paced the floor, unable to settle. “You feel it, too?” Blake bent and ruffled the oddly shaped ears of the stray mutt. He’d wandered into his barn shortly after Blake had moved back to Carder, Texas, to take over as sheriff following his father’s sudden death. The dog had hung around until finally they’d both surrendered to the inevitable. The animal’s unease didn’t bode well, and the sparse living room gave Blake no distraction. Despite moving into his childhood ranch home nine months ago, Blake still kept his memories stored away in boxes. Easier to avoid them that way. The police radio cracked with static, and the dispatcher’s voice broke through the old speaker. “Sheriff?” Blake snagged the microphone. “Donna, are you still manning the station? I ordered you home hours ago.” “Deputy Parris just called in. Streets are clear, though he couldn’t stop complaining the storm ruined his trip to his fishing cabin.” “No one’s supposed to be on these roads tonight but me. If Mom finds out her best friend’s working on a night like this, I’m dead. Go home.” “You’re like your father,” Donna said. Which meant she ignored Blake’s orders, too. Maybe that’s where his unease had originated. Donna had run the Sheriff’s Office dispatch for his father since he was a kid. He’d inherited her just like he had the job. He’d also learned from his dad exactly how to handle her. “Go home, Donna. Or I’ll put you in jail and lock away the key to be sure you’re safe.” “Yep, just like him.” She chuckled. “Dispatch out.” Blake glanced at the clock. He’d give her fifteen minutes. On his patrol, he’d verify she got home. He tugged on a wool sweater over his corduroys. His uniform didn’t have the warmth he’d need tonight. A low growl rumbled from Leo. The dog rose and his ears lay back as he stared at the front door. Blake tensed, his hand automatically going to his sidearm. A movement outside the front window caught Blake’s attention. A pair of blue eyes under a thatch of reddish-brown hair peered just above the windowsill. Right at him. “What the hell…” Blake flung open the door. Freezing wind and needles of sleet invaded the room. A small boy huddled in a Chicago Bears coat and scarf stared up at him, his cheeks red, his lips blue, dried blood on his pants. “My mommy’s dying. She said you’d help us.” The boy sank to his knees. With an inward curse, Blake scooped up the shaking child, kicked the door shut and sat him down by the fire. He crouched down and slid the boy’s pant leg up to his knee. No obvious injury. “Where did this blood come from, son? Are you hurt?” The boy shook his head and pursed his lips together. “Please. Help Mommy.” “Where is she?” “Our car slid. It crashed.” The boy’s eyes filled with tears. “Mommy kept falling asleep. She made me leave her.” No one could survive for long in that storm. Blake shoved his arms into his shearling coat, yanked on his gloves and grabbed a flashlight from the top of the refrigerator. “Is it only your mom out there? No one else?” The boy nodded. “Only Mommy.” “Stay here. Understand?” The kid couldn’t have walked far. His mother had to be nearby. “Leo, come.” The dog, who’d been nosing at their small visitor, bounded to Blake. The boy waited pathetically in front of the fire, shivering, yet his eyes locked on Blake. “Are you a good guy?” Blake pulled his Stetson down over his ears. “You can trust me.” The boy’s lips quivered in uncertainty. He was a brave little guy. A sharp pang twisted Blake’s heart. Did every boy practice that same look? In that one instant, he’d looked…just like Joey. Just like the son Blake had lost. He shoved the pain into the hole where his heart had been. “I’ll be right back. Stay by the fire. Don’t touch anything.” He gave the kid his most stern look. With Leo at his side, Blake yanked open the door and stepped into the frozen night. The lights from the barn were bare flickers against the onslaught of sleet and roaring wind. Ice pricked his face, making his eyes water. He scanned for any movement through the darkness. Nothing between here and the horse barn. He had only minutes or the boy’s mother was dead. Long icicles dangled from the porch eaves and looked like something out of a horror movie. He shoved through them, breaking off several. They fell to the steps, the howl of the winter wind swallowing all sound. Even if the woman were screaming he wouldn’t hear her until he tripped over her body. He swept his flashlight across shiny layers of ice. As he stepped past a large pine, blinking orange just at the edge of his vision caught his attention. Hazard lights. Tilted. The car must be in the ditch. He veered toward the vehicle, but Leo barked, tugged on Blake’s sleeve and shot in the opposite direction. “You’d better be right, mutt.” Blake hurried after the animal, swinging his light toward a small gully that lined his long driveway. Nothing was visible from the road. When he reached the edge and shined the beam into the ditch, Leo leaped toward a small, snow-covered figure, huddled out of sight of the driveway. Blake slid down the frozen dirt and turned her over. If it hadn’t been for her son and the dog, Blake may never have found her in this mess. She was soaked and freezing, but a small puff of air escaped her nose. Thank God. He lifted her into his arms, and she moaned, squirming, pushing at him. “Ethan—” “Your boy’s fine,” Blake said. “Now stay still or we’ll both freeze to death.” “Blake?” She clutched at his collar feebly. “Please. Help us.” Blake’s ears had gone numb, but he could have sworn she said his name, although with this wind he couldn’t be sure. He could barely feel his hands, even through the gloves. She must be closing in on hypothermia. He had to get her inside. Fast. He struggled up the gully, his boots losing traction even though she didn’t weigh more than a minute. Each step was treacherous. Leo raced past Blake to the porch light as he slugged his way home. The wind and sleet slammed at him from the side. He stumbled, jostling her to maintain his balance. She whimpered in his arms. Blake’s legs stung with cold. Each step took more and more effort. He squinted toward his house. The curtain pushed back, and a small face pressed to the front window. The ranch house looked unbelievably far away. By the time he reached the porch, the woman in his arms quivered uncontrollably. The boy flung open the door, his face streaked with tears. “Mommy? Is she…dead?” Blake shouldered past the kid and laid his mother on the sofa. What kind of youngster asked a question like that? Ignoring his own tingling hands and feet, he shrugged out of his coat, tossed it and his Stetson on the chair, and knelt beside the unconscious woman. “Is your name Ethan?” Wide-eyed, the boy nodded. “How old are you?” He held up five fingers, and Blake nodded. “I thought so. What’s your mom’s name?” “Mommy.” Not much help there. Blake pulled the scarf and hat from the woman’s face. A tumble of wild, auburn curls fell to her shoulders. He rocked back on his heels in shocked recognition. Amanda. He couldn’t believe it was her. The woman he’d nearly lost his senses to beneath the mistletoe one very memorable Christmas Eve. The woman who’d tempted him beyond endurance. The woman he’d known he could never have because she was his best friend’s sister. And she’d almost died. “Amanda?” What was that bastard Vince’s sister doing in the middle of an ice storm four-hundred miles from home? Ethan scooted under Blake’s arm and laid a small hand on his mother’s cheek. “Mommy?” he whispered. “Wake up. Please. I’m scared.” At the boy’s plaintive words, Blake nearly doubled over. Had his four-year-old son said the same thing to his mother after the accident? Blake knew from the autopsy report his ex-wife had died instantly, but Joey had lived for several minutes after their car had been blindsided. His son had been alone, frightened and dying, probably begging for his mother to wake up. Maybe calling for his father to save him. But Blake hadn’t been there. Well, he was here now. For Amanda. He ripped off her gloves and clasped her hands. Ice-cold. No way could he warm her in these wet clothes. He unzipped her insubstantial coat. The right side of her shirt was soaked in blood. “What the hell?” He pushed the denim aside and stared at the injury just below and outside the soft curve of her left breast. He recognized a gunshot wound when he saw one. Blake grabbed a clean dish towel from the kitchen and pressed it to the gash, causing Amanda to moan. “Get your coat on, kid. We’re taking your mom to the doctor.” One look out the window told him the ride would be an interesting trip. The visibility had deteriorated even more in the last few minutes. “Hopefully I’ll get us to the hospital in one piece.” Amanda stirred restlessly on the couch. He nabbed the microphone from the sofa table. “Parris, this is Blake.” The static from the line shattered the night. “Deputy, you there?” Amanda tugged at his arm with a weak but desperate grip. “No hospital,” she whispered. “Hide us. Please. Or we’re dead.” The stark words ricocheted through Blake as she struggled to sit, then collapsed in his arms. He eased her down, and pushed back the curls surrounding her face. She was hurt, and vulnerable, and she couldn’t tell him why. What had she gotten herself into that she’d risk her life to stay hidden? He glanced at Ethan. With the gunshot wound, Blake had to give her the benefit of the doubt. If she was telling the truth, he refused to put the boy’s life in jeopardy. “Sheriff? You heading out on patrol?” The ghost of a voice broke through the crackling radio. “Not yet. Parris, let me know if you or Smithson see any strangers wandering the town. I’ll get back to you.” He knelt next to the sofa and studied his unexpected visitor. Amanda had changed in the last six months. Thinner, her skin nearly translucent. Circles beneath her eyes, but still so beautiful, he had to remind himself to breathe. She’d obviously been through hell. Blake motioned to the boy whose eyes had grown wide and fear-filled. “Ethan? How did your mom get hurt?” The boy looked at his unconscious mother and shook his head. “I promised I wouldn’t tell.” Secrets. They burned Blake’s gut. He’d experienced too many in Austin. At the same time, he admired Amanda’s kid. Blake recognized Ethan’s terror from his trembling hands. The boy wanted to cry but bit down on his lip, fighting against the panic. Amanda’s son showed more courage in that moment than most grown men Blake had witnessed facing a gun on the streets. He crouched so he was eye to eye with the boy. “Promises are important, but your mom came to me for help. I’m one of the good guys, remember?” Ethan simply stared at Blake, his eyes too suspicious for a boy of five. “Mommy?” His tentative hand tugged at his mother’s sleeve. “She’s hurt, Ethan. But she doesn’t want to go to the doctor. I need to know what happened. I want to make her well.” The boy shifted back and forth, stared at his unconscious mother, then back at Blake. He lifted his chin and met Blake’s gaze. “A bad man tried to hurt us. Mommy saved me.” * * * THE BED WAS SOFT, the room dark except for a small night-light. Amanda felt warm for the first time in hours. She must be dead. There didn’t seem to be any other explanation. She shifted. Her flesh burned like fire. This definitely wasn’t heaven. Reality came flooding back. Vince. Ethan. She tried to sit up, but a sharp, blazing pain pierced her side. She fell back with a groan. “Not a good move, considering you tried to stop a bullet with your body.” She’d recognize the soft drawl of that voice anywhere. Blake Redmond. She scanned up from his worn cowboy boots, past his corduroys to a dark green sweater that emphasized the flecks of jade and gold in his glittering eyes. She’d expected the typical tan sheriff’s uniform at least. Still, she could see he was no longer a big-city Austin cop. All he needed was a cowboy hat to complete the picture of a small-town lawman. Not a friendly one, though. Even with the dim light she could tell his face was carved in stone. Her heart skipped a beat. What had he found out? Had he called the deputy? Even now, was the man who murdered Vince and tried to kill her on his way here? Guarding her ribs, she struggled to swing her legs over the bed’s edge. Blake rushed over and pressed her back against the pillow. “Don’t even think about getting out of this bed. Not until I look at that wound.” “Where’s Ethan? Is he safe?” Blake placed a medical kit on the nightstand and flipped on a small bedside light. “Hunkered down with my crazy mutt glued to his side. First door on the right. They’re fine. I won’t say the same for you.” “Did you tell your deputy about us?” she countered. “Trying to sidestep the issue?” Blake opened the supplies. “You can thank your boy I didn’t ignore your request. I didn’t like his responses to my questions.” Blake sat on the bed next to her and unpacked bandages, hydrogen peroxide and antibiotic ointment. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want answers from you.” “What did Ethan say?” Blake’s jaw tightened with irritation. “Not much. His mother’s been shot and has passed out. He’s dependent on a man he’s never met.” He glared at her. “He’s scared.” The stark statement shattered a piece of Amanda’s heart. Blake dragged a chair next to the bed. “What’s going on?” She studied him warily. She didn’t know what to say. Blake prided himself on being honest. A by-the-book kind of guy. She doubted he’d appreciate what she’d been forced to do over the last day. Not that she regretted one action. To keep her son safe, Amanda would do anything. Anything. And her horrifying suspicions? The unspeakable theory she’d pieced together on that long drive from snippets of a few conversations and emails with Vince over the past few months. Should she tell Blake what she suspected about the death of his ex-wife and child? She had no proof. What if she was wrong? Why hurt him more? Better to remain silent. Blake waited, then shook his head. “Fine. Don’t imagine I won’t figure it out.” He stood and opened the first aid box. “Unfasten your shirt and lay on your side,” he said, his voice gruff. “This is gonna hurt.” No kidding. She unbuttoned the bottom half of the shirt and rolled to her right. He pushed the denim out of the way, his fingers gentle. Somehow, when she’d fantasized about him touching her bare skin, it had never involved a bullet wound. She stared at his lean hips and focused hard, trying to distract herself with inappropriately lascivious thoughts. Anything rather than cry and act like a wimp in front of him. He unscrewed a bottle of antiseptic. She ventured a glance at him. He hadn’t changed much. He still wore his light brown hair short, although it was long enough to run her fingers through. His hazel eyes flickered in the light, and she could have sworn flecks of gold glittered as he glanced down at her. He was one of the sexiest men she’d ever met. And so wrong for her. His wife had just left him when she’d met him in Austin, so she’d ignored the flip-flop of her belly whenever he’d entered the room. Until that one Christmas Eve after his divorce finalized, that one amazing kiss. She had no business thinking about Blake in that way. She had to focus on her and Ethan’s safety, but just for the next few minutes, maybe… She shivered as he bared more of her torso. He probed at the sensitive skin she couldn’t quite see. She sucked in a sharp breath. Okay, so much for the distraction-from-pain theory. That hurt. “When did you get shot?” he muttered. The agonizingly long trip flashed through her mind. Town after town. Dairy Queen after Dairy Queen. Ethan being as patient as a five-year-old could, as if he understood she only had small reserves left. “I don’t know. Sixteen, eighteen hours. Forever. The storm slowed us to a crawl. Five miles an hour some stretches.” “You should have stopped.” He pressed against the fevered skin, and slowly, painfully worked the dried, blood-soaked scarf away from the wound. She winced at each tug, tears stinging her eyes. She wanted to scream. She held her breath until finally he pulled away the last of the material. She sagged in relief. “Luckily the bullet didn’t lodge inside. Bad news is the wound is inflamed. I’ve got ointment, Amanda, but you need a doctor. And antibiotics.” “Doctors report gunshot wounds.” “So do sheriffs.” He explored the area one last time, then sucked in a slow breath. “Brace yourself.” The cold sting of peroxide hissed on her skin. She clutched at the sheets and bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. She didn’t know how close Ethan was. She couldn’t let him see her like this. He’d been through enough. Blake quickly rubbed on antibiotic ointment, then covered the wound with a pad. “I need to secure the dressing. Sit up for me.” He supported her back as she rose. When she was steady, he unfastened the remainder of the buttons on her shirt. Her cheeks burned. She hadn’t been able to wear a bra since it happened, and there was no getting around him touching her as he quickly wrapped the bandage around her torso. Finally, he secured a last piece of tape. With jerky movements he rose from the bed and grabbed a large Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt from the drawer. “You can wear this. Your son doesn’t need to see all that blood.” Hovering over her, Blake eased the soiled material off with the prowess of a cowboy who’d undressed his share of women. His touch lingered on her naked back before he choked out a cough and slipped on the clean, dry sweatshirt. The awareness between them sizzled. She chanced a look over her shoulder. She’d never seen Blake more uncomfortable as he eased away from the bed. He planted himself in the center of the bedroom and crossed his arms, piercing her with a glare she welcomed. If he’d smiled or given her a soft, sexy grin, she might have done something stupid. “Thank you.” She lifted her gaze and saw his cheeks flush before he turned on her. “We’re not finished yet.” He stiffened his back. “I have some antibiotics in the barn. I’ll be right back.” She heard the door open, and the harsh whistling of wind sounded from the other room before the oak slammed closed. He was going out into this monster storm. For her. Who did that? No one she knew, that’s for sure. She rubbed her eyes. She had to think clearly. She was a fugitive, but Blake didn’t need to know that. She just had to keep her wits about her, get well and move on. Don’t let herself be taken in by a man who was like a hero out of a fairy tale. One step at a time, and she could put some miles between her and Blake. A lot of miles if she had her way. She twisted, testing the bandage, trying once again to sit up. “You’re gonna undo all my handiwork.” Blake strode into the room, holding a prescription bottle and a glass of water. “The antibiotics were for the foal, but it’s better than nothing. Should be the right dose.” “You want to feed me horse pills? Are you crazy?” “You wanted my help. It’s this or a doctor. You’ve got a fever.” She studied his face and could see he was deadly serious. Showing herself at any medical facility would put a target on her and Ethan. She had to stay under the radar for as long as she could. She wasn’t the criminal. Well, not exactly. And certainly not voluntarily. She snagged the pill and swallowed it with a grimace. Blake studied her, his expression unwavering and speculative. “Just how much trouble are you in, Amanda? You take a horse pill to avoid the hospital, you drive eighteen hours in an ice storm after a bullet cut a furrow in your side. What are you doing here? Is your brother going to knock on my door next?” So much for the fairy tale. She lifted her chin and swiped at her hair. “Vince is dead.” The muscle of his jaw throbbed briefly. The only sign he cared at all. “Aren’t you going to say anything? He was your best friend.” “Best friend?” Blake crossed his arms, his expression grim. “Really? Is that what he was when he sold me out? When he didn’t show up for my son’s funeral?” “He didn’t think you’d want him there.” “He was right.” Amanda rubbed her hands over her eyes to keep from looking into his perceptive gaze. He’d recognize the guilt, the secret knowledge. “There was never any proof Vince gave Internal Affairs evidence against you.” “Only one person could’ve set me up to take the fall. Vince. You can lie to yourself, but don’t lie to me. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.” Blake leaned over the bed, crowding her. She shrank back against the sheets. “Don’t hurt my mommy!” Ethan launched across the room, the dog racing after him. The boy grabbed Blake around the legs and started pounding at him. The sight of her usually gentle son taking all his anger and fear out on Blake savaged Amanda’s soul. Would he ever be the same after what he’d seen? She shoved off the bed as Blake stopped and calmly grasped Ethan’s arms. “I don’t hurt people, son. I’m a policeman.” Ethan wrenched away. “Policemen are bad. Police made Uncle Vince dead.” Chapter Two Cops killed Vince? Blake dropped his hands, and Ethan dived into his mother’s arms. Amanda winced but hugged him close, murmuring words of comfort. Her wound had to be hurting like the devil, but she simply stroked Ethan’s head, rocking him to and fro. The only sign of pain was the tightness around her mouth and the color draining from her face. Incredible. The love that shone there twisted something inside Blake, touched some hidden place that needed to stay protected. “It’s okay, little man,” she whispered. “I’ll keep us safe. I promise.” She had more courage than Vince ever did. Blake had tried to convince his friend to work together to investigate and take down the dirty cops. Vince had done the opposite. He’d jumped in headfirst with the enemy, then helped set up Blake to take the fall for missing evidence and confiscated money from several drug busts. Ethan’s sobs turned to hiccups. Blake’s jaw ached as he tried to contain his fury. Vince’s cowardice had dragged that innocent boy into God knows what. Ethan, nestled against Amanda’s chest and clearly exhausted, fell asleep in only a few minutes. She kissed the top of his head and tried to stand. She trembled and swayed. Blake wanted to punch his fist through the wall. He’d traumatized the boy even more. His stomach churned at the thought, acid hitting the back of his throat. He gulped down the guilt and reached out to steady her with a gentle touch. “I’ll take Ethan.” Her hold tightened. She didn’t trust anyone else with him. He got that, but he also knew her legs quivered underneath her. She was near collapse. He stilled, waiting patiently, his arms open. Finally, as if her energy left her, she nodded. Blake lifted the sleeping boy. The actions, the familiar, precious weight of his little body poked at the empty ache inside of Blake. The boy snuggled closer, and Blake’s throat closed off at the swell of emotions. Ethan was vulnerable and trusting enough in sleep to let a stranger hold him. A child’s faith. The dog at his heels, Blake carried Amanda’s son down the hall and tucked him beneath the covers. His gaze lingered on Ethan’s tear-stained cheeks. Blake knotted his hands into fists. No child deserved to face this kind of fear. He hated that Ethan feared law enforcement—the people he should trust. Leo whined and Blake gave the dog a nod. The mutt jumped onto the bed and settled next to Ethan. The boy would be okay, but Blake needed answers from Amanda. She was keeping secrets. He couldn’t allow that. Ethan wasn’t going to feel unsafe. Not on Blake’s watch. He stalked out of the room and grabbed the door, ready to slam it, then stopped himself. Softly, he eased it shut, strode through the doorway and closed him and Amanda into the guest bedroom. “No more games. Is what Ethan said true?” “Why do you think I never went to a hospital? Vince was murdered. By a cop.” “I figured that one out.” As many times as Blake had cursed his former best friend for being a low-down, belly-crawling coward, he hadn’t wanted him dead. Nailed for bribery. Definitely. Confessing to the police area commander how Vince had framed Blake. Most assuredly. But not dead. Blake crossed his arms and ignored the fatigue and vulnerability in her eyes. He wouldn’t let himself get sucked in. He had to protect Ethan. “Who did it?” “I don’t know.” Amanda shifted her focus toward the door. “I should go to him.” Her gaze flickered left, and she twirled a strand of her curly hair. Vince had joked about the obvious tell. He’d warned Blake if he ever played poker with Amanda, twisting her hair was a sure sign of a bluff. “Your brother lied to me every damn day the last six months I was in Austin. I’ve learned how to spot deceit, so don’t bother trying it.” Her pretty mouth opened slightly in surprise, and he let out a harsh laugh. “Yeah, I can see your wheels turning. I may be a small-town sheriff now, but I’ve still got big-city instincts.” “I’m not lying.” He eased toward her. “Fine. Keep your secrets. As soon as this storm ends, you can fight your own battles.” He paused. “Without Ethan in the middle of them. He’ll stay with me.” “You have no right—” “I do if I think your son’s in danger.” He leaned back against the dressing table. “Did you get in the middle of one of Vince’s dirty deals? Is that how you got shot?” “Take that back.” She jumped to her feet, then doubled over with a whimper. Her knees buckled, and she sagged to the floor. Blake cursed and reached for her. He’d have thought she was feigning pain to distract him except her face had turned a scary shade of gray. He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted her to tell him the truth. To give him the information he needed to protect them both. No matter what trouble she’d gotten into, she didn’t deserve this. Neither did Ethan. “Don’t touch me.” She scooted away from him. “Shut up. You’re hurt, and you’ve lost a lot of blood. Get up too fast and you’ll keel over every time.” He took one step, swept her into his arms and strode to the bed, pretending to ignore the blue-and-silver sweatshirt that slid down one shoulder and the bare skin of her legs against his arm. Gently, he laid her down and tucked a pillow behind her. He dragged a chair over and straddled it. “I can see you love Ethan, but you can’t protect him.” “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” She was silent. Blake met her gaze, his own steady and resolute. He could see her wavering and leaned forward. “You came here for a reason, Amanda. Let me help you.” She rubbed her eyes with her hands and sighed in defeat. “Vince’s last words were to Ethan. He said to come to you.” “That doesn’t make sense. We haven’t spoken since my father was killed and I left Austin. Why would he send you to me?” “He always said you were the most honest cop he knew.” “He had a hell of a way of showing it.” Blake stood and paced the bedroom floor. “I didn’t see the point in coming here. Maybe I was right. You hate Vince, but…” She shifted and her mouth twitched in pain, but she didn’t complain, didn’t say a word. “I was shot. If anything happened to me—” Her voice choked. “Ethan would be alone,” Blake finished. The fatigue, the fear, the pain had started to get to her. He could see it in her eyes. Blake sat on the side of the bed. “Then why won’t you let me help?” She pressed her hand to her side. “I’m alive. Tomorrow we’ll leave, start a new life. It’s the only way to be certain we’re safe.” The crackling of the police radio in the other room made her jump. She clasped his arm. “Please, don’t tell anyone we’re here. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything. Just don’t give us away.” Blake removed her hand from his sweater. “Stay here,” he muttered. He walked out of the room and down the hall, torn between duty and justice. Hell of it was, he understood. He would’ve done whatever it took to save Joey. Even his ex-wife, Kathy. He’d been called into the station for yet another Internal Affairs interview the afternoon of the accident. Kathy had picked up Joey from preschool instead of Blake. Maybe if he’d been in the car, with his reflexes, his training, he could have avoided the accident. Or at least made sure Joey survived… If Blake could have saved them, he would’ve sacrificed himself. Slow but determined footsteps followed him down the hall. Not surprising. Amanda wouldn’t leave anything to chance. Not when it came to her son. He got that. He tried to ignore the fact she didn’t trust him. The truth chafed, but he didn’t trust her, either. She knew more than she was telling. He could feel it. “Sheriff?” His deputy’s voice crackled through the living room. “Parris checking in.” Blake picked up the microphone. “Donna make it home?” “Kicking and screaming.” The older man chuckled. “Muttering about being on stand-by. She hasn’t changed since your dad and I caught her staying all night at the station during that tornado warning fifteen years ago.” “Streets still clear? No one traveling in this mess?” “Hank Stratton tried to make it to Charlie’s Bar, but he slid down the driveway and crawled home. I told his wife to steal his boots. Should keep him from wandering outside. Other than that, the whole town’s dead.” Blake slid a sidelong glance at Amanda, his pause longer than usual. “Could you check on my mom?” There was silence on the radio. “You want me to check on her? You okay, Blake?” “Keep your radio with you in case of emergencies.” “Are you serious? You’re staying in?” “I’m not patrolling tonight.” Blake watched as Amanda teetered and swayed. She grabbed the table for support just as he wrapped his arm around her, careful to avoid her injury. Her slight frame leaned into him. He felt every curve pressing against him in a way he’d only imagined before now. His body tingled with awareness, his senses sharpened at her vulnerability. She needed him whether she knew it or not. “Keep me posted.” “Hell has officially frozen over. Parris out.” Blake set the radio down, and Amanda let out a relieved breath as he held her to his side, their closeness fanning the shimmering heat he couldn’t deny. He gave her a sharp look. “Surprised I didn’t have Parris run a check on you?” “Frankly, yes.” “I don’t lie, Amanda.” “Yeah, well, I’ve been burned more than once.” She tried to straighten but winced, her left hand pressing against her bandage. Amanda tugged away from him and planted her legs firmly. He could see she used every ounce of strength to stand and face him. “Thank you for what you’ve done,” she said. “When morning comes, we’ll be out of your town and your life.” She slowly turned, and with careful steps, walked into her bedroom, emerging a few seconds later with a pillow and small throw. She disappeared into Ethan’s room without looking back. At the soft click of the door, Blake sighed. He could still feel the imprint of her body against his. She might act brave, but she’d clung to him, and in doing so she’d ignited desire in his gut. A flame he’d thought had been doused for good. Apparently he’d been mistaken. Pushing the tempting thoughts aside, Blake grabbed a cup of coffee and walked to his office. An internet search on Vince was definitely in order. Blake had been blinded by his anger toward his ex-partner, but he couldn’t deny the truth of the current situation. Vince was dead. Amanda had been shot. Her son was at risk. Cops were involved, and not in a good way. He wouldn’t let her vanish with all those nonanswers she’d tried to pass off. He had his own unfinished business in Austin. If Vince had sent Amanda to him, there had to be a connection between the attack and his being drummed out of the Austin Police Department. Somewhere deep inside, he still wanted to believe he hadn’t been completely wrong about Vince. Blake booted the computer and typed his ex-partner’s name into the search engine. He would discover the truth and protect Amanda and her son, whether she wanted his help or not. * * * AMANDA WOKE TO SUNLIGHT streaming through the slats in the room where Blake had bandaged her, not on the floor next to Ethan. She remembered shivering beside her son’s bed, knowing she couldn’t leave him alone except to throw his blood-soaked jeans in the washer. He’d hardly had any sleep since they left Austin. Each time she’d thought he’d rest for more than an hour, he’d jerked awake, screaming for Vince. Begging the bad cop to go away. That’s how she’d learned what really happened. That’s why she’d veered from a trip to the hospital. She’d pressed her son to tell her more, but Ethan refused to say a word about what he’d seen. Except in his dreams. And last night she hadn’t been there for him. She covered her eyes with her forearm. Blake must have moved her last night. But what about Ethan? She lay there for a few seconds, listening for his cries. Not a sound. She didn’t like the quiet. Not one bit. Amanda threw off the blankets piled on top of her and tried to sit up. Pain stabbed at her side. She groaned but didn’t surrender to it. She could handle anything as long as she knew Ethan was safe. Holding her torso stiff, she opened her bedroom door and hurried into the next room, her bare feet cold on the hardwood floors. Amanda nearly tripped over a rocking chair that hadn’t been in the room last night. Ethan’s clean jeans were folded neatly on the dresser. An afghan was placed in perfect order on the seat. A coffee cup sat on a coaster near the chair. Ethan lay huddled beneath a thick quilt. He was safe. And asleep. He clutched a small, much-worn teddy bear in the crook of his arm. Amanda blinked away tears at the sight of her son clinging to the toy. They’d had no time to bring anything with them. She’d taken him away from everything he knew and loved. And Blake had provided Ethan a small bit of childhood to hold. She had no doubt Blake had watched over Ethan after putting her to bed last night. The nightmares must have come. Again. And she hadn’t heard them. Blake had. Slowly, she walked back to her bedroom to dress. God, how had this happened? All she’d wanted for Ethan was a good life, for him to feel safe and protected. She wished she could ask Blake for help. Her heart had gone pitter-patter the few times he’d smiled. When he’d held her in his arms last night, he’d made her feel small, but not vulnerable. Only protected. For a second, she’d wanted to lean her head against him and forget the danger. But she had no choice. She had to hide the car she’d stolen and vanish under the radar. She couldn’t ask a sheriff to break the law for her. Especially one who had been through what Blake had. Amanda left the bedroom and headed toward the kitchen. Keeping as quiet as possible, she opened the door and stepped onto the porch. The sun’s brightness made the ice sparkle like glistening diamonds. The place looked like a winter wonderland. One thing about West Texas, if you wanted the weather to change, all you had to do was wait a minute. The ditch to her right wasn’t deep, but last night it might just as well have been the Grand Canyon. She shivered. She could have easily frozen to death. She followed the line of the driveway as it curved in front of the small barn. Where had the car landed? She remembered hitting the brakes and skidding. Then little else. Shoving her hands into her pockets, Amanda crossed the yard and stared in disbelief at the scars marring the ice-covered snow on the road. The car was gone. She whirled around and ran into a wall of muscle. Blake clasped her shoulders to steady her. “In a hurry?” “Where’s the car?” Oh, God. That beat-up station wagon was the only way out of town and into oblivion. Her hands trembled. Her money. The gun. Gone. “Amanda.” Blake shook her gently. “What’s wrong with you?” “Where. Is. The. Car?” She tried to keep the panic out of her voice, but she couldn’t stop it from quivering. “Scooter towed it to his garage. It’s probably totaled.” “This can’t be happening.” Amanda’s legs wobbled beneath her. What was she going to do? “Please tell me it’s drivable.” “Your suspension is damaged. The tire was practically bent underneath.” “How much to fix it?” “At least a thousand. Maybe more.” Amanda swayed. She could have crumpled into a heap on the snow and cried. She needed that car. But she had only a couple hundred in her purse. Her purse. Her ID. Panic vibrated through her body. She had a vague memory of grabbing the bag as she stumbled out of the car, but had she? If the Austin cops found the car… “I’ve got to get Ethan. We have to go.” She started to run to the house, but her feet slipped on the ice, and she landed hard on her backside. The fall jarred her ribs. Fire seared through her. She doubled over and clutched at the wound, rocking to and fro. She couldn’t stop the moans. How could she protect her son like this? Blake knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms. “Whoa, there. Take it easy. You’re trying to foul up my bandage again.” She shoved herself to her feet, barely able to stand the burning at her side. She teetered, fighting against the spots dancing in front of her eyes. She couldn’t pass out. “We have to disappear. He’ll find us.” “Who’s looking for you, Amanda?” He clasped her arms and spun her around to face him, his Stetson not shielding the intensity of his gaze. “I don’t know. And that’s no lie. Some guy outside Vince’s house shot me. He came after us. He won’t stop. I know it. I have to get us out of here.” “I did a little research. There’s no news of Vince being killed. Anywhere.” Amanda dug her fingers into Blake’s arm. “Please tell me you didn’t call Austin.” Before he could answer, she wrenched away, struggled up the front steps and stumbled through the door. Blake followed, hovering beside her like an overprotective guardian. She knew he wouldn’t give up, but he’d have to. She’d beg, borrow or steal some money. Pay him back later. Somehow. Ethan’s room drew her gaze. The door stood open. Her son hadn’t made a move without her since Vince’s death. What if the killer had found them? What if he’d taken her son? She ran across the hardwood floor and rushed into the bedroom. Empty. “Ethan!” Fear laced her voice. She whirled around, shoved open the closet. No Ethan. “Where is he?” She searched the bathroom. Behind the shower curtain. Nothing. “Oh, God, Blake. Where’s Ethan?” Blake didn’t respond. She looked over her shoulder. He stood frozen, staring at a cracked-open entrance to a room down the hall. His face turned white. “No.” Blake burst into a run and slammed open the oak door against the wall. Amanda ran into his back. “What are you doing?” Blake’s voice boomed. “No one goes in here.” Ethan froze, the bright yellow dump truck in his hand rolling to a stop. Amanda placed herself between Ethan and a livid Blake. She’d never seen him like this. “You…you can’t play with that.” Agony carved into each line of his face, he sidestepped Amanda and took the truck from Ethan. Terror painted her son’s expression. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He ran to Amanda and threw himself against her. She winced as he hit her side, but banished the waves of pain, focused solely on Ethan. “Shh, honey. Mommy’s here.” Worry vanished. She glared at Blake. “What are you trying to do? Scare him to death?” Blake’s wild-eyed gaze darted around the room before slowly clearing. He stared at the dog, who cowered in the corner, at Amanda holding her son. His throat spasmed. He thrust a shaking hand through his hair. “Oh, my God. I—” The torment on Blake’s face shattered her. He stared down at the floor behind her. She followed his gaze. A cardboard box in the middle of the floor. The name Joey in large bold letters on its side. And she understood. His son’s toys. And from the look of dust covering the furniture, the door hadn’t been opened since Blake had moved here. A twin bed with a football bedspread lay untouched, waiting for someone. The room was a shrine. “Blake—” His distraught stare met hers. “I’m…sorry. I haven’t been in here since—” His voice trailed off. He turned and slowly walked out. His shoulders slumped, as if his soul had broken in two. She stared after him. Her heart shattered at the devastation and loss on his face. Her eyes stung at the defeated picture of his leaving the room. She rubbed her face. What had she done? Ethan was close to Joey’s age when he’d been killed. She hadn’t considered how hard this would be for Blake. The painful memories Ethan would trigger. She’d never wanted to hurt Blake. She’d never knowingly have done that. Blake’s steps faded, and Amanda knelt down on the floor, needing to touch Ethan, to remind herself he was alive and here. She pulled him into her lap and cupped his face. She pushed back the hair falling on his forehead. What if she’d lost her son as Blake had lost his? Would she survive? Ethan’s face scrunched up. “I didn’t mean to do anything bad.” “I know, honey, I know. What made you come in here?” “Just looking. Sheriff Blake found the bear in a box in my closet. I saw all the stuff in here…” His voice trailed off. Amanda studied the boxes in the room, brand-new with shipping labels still intact. Left here to wait. For a boy to play with them. A boy who never came. Until yesterday. Until Ethan. “You wanted more toys?” He nodded, his expression full of chagrin. “I just wanted to play. I didn’t mean to make him mad.” Struggling to keep the pain she felt for Blake off her face, she kissed her son’s forehead, her resolve to protect him that much stronger. “He wasn’t mad. Just surprised.” She pushed back on her heels. “Why don’t you play in your room for a while, and I’ll talk to Blake.” A gruff throat clearing from the doorway drew her gaze. Blake’s eyes looked bloodshot, but he forced a smile on his face and knelt down. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I didn’t mean to scare you.” With a shaking hand, Blake passed the yellow truck to her son. “This was my little boy, Joey’s, favorite toy. I think he’d like you to have it.” “Joey?” Ethan’s face screwed up in thought. “Uncle Vince said Joey’s in the clouds.” Blake’s jaw throbbed with the struggle to keep himself in check. He nodded. “I wish he was here,” Ethan said. “So do I.” Amanda could see Blake was close to the breaking point. “How about I cook everyone breakfast?” she said brightly. “Bacon?” Ethan asked, the word cautious and hopeful. She looked at Blake. He gave a slight nod, his expression haunted. “Sounds good, sweetie. You go play in the living room.” Ethan walked to the door. He paused and turned to Blake. “I wish you had a green tractor like my friend Billy, only little, but I’ll take good care of the truck. I promise.” “Thank you,” Blake said softly. He reached out to Ethan, but then pulled his hand back. Ethan hugged the yellow toy to his body and disappeared into the hallway. Amanda turned to Blake. “I’m—” “Don’t. I shouldn’t have yelled. It won’t happen again.” “You made it okay. That truck means more than you know. He bonded with one of the construction workers who took him for a ride on a green tractor.” Hesitantly, she stepped toward him. “Blake, I just wanted to say I can tell you were a wonderful father. I’m so sorry for your loss.” “Yeah.” He backed away and tugged at the football bedspread, his look bleak. “This was my room when I was a kid. Mom and Dad had it ready for Joey whenever he visited. They’d updated everything right before…” Blake’s voice trailed off. “He never…” She crossed toward him and soothed him with a tentative touch. When Blake didn’t pull away, she squeezed his solid arm and looked at him, her eyes burning, his face swimming as she gazed at him through her tears. “I saw you with Joey. I came to you because I knew if anything happened to me, you’d protect Ethan.” She bit her lip. “You’re the only person I can say that about.” His hand covered hers. “If you’ll trust me, Amanda, I can help.” He cleared his throat. “I promise to protect you and your son.” “I know. You’re one of the few people who can understand what I’m facing now.” She studied the strain behind his eyes, the tightness of his mouth. “Help me disappear. It’s what Vince would’ve wanted.” Blake stiffened and removed her hand from his arm. “Don’t mention his name, Amanda.” Fool. Why had she said that? She had to make him appreciate what was at stake. Amanda closed her eyes. Should she tell him? Was it the only way to make him understand? The only way to convince him to help her vanish? She drew in a slow, deep breath and lifted her chin, praying for courage, hoping she was doing the right thing. “You have to listen to me, Blake.” He shot her a skeptical look. She could tell he was ready to turn away. “Vince was devastated when we heard the news about Kathy and Joey,” she rushed. “You didn’t see what it did to him. He changed. He avoided me and Ethan. I didn’t know why.” “Showing his true colors.” Blake bit out the words through clenched teeth. “He loved Ethan. I spent eighteen hours in that car trying to figure out why Vince acted the way he did. And why he was murdered. I realized ever since Joey was killed, Vince has been hiding something. From me, from you, from everyone.” “The fact that he was a cop on the take?” “No! When I was forced to move in with him because of the debts Carl had racked up, Vince was furious, even though he’d made the offer the year before. He wanted me out of the house fast, but he also made me take self-defense classes. He taught me escape routes. I thought he wanted me safe from Carl. Now I recognize Vince knew it was dangerous for us to be with him. Not because of my ex, but because of the men you suspected.” “At least he had some sense of honor and responsibility.” Amanda ignored the bitterness in Blake’s voice. “Vince said you’d been through enough. That you’d already paid too high a price for being a good cop.” Her eyes burned with compassion. “I don’t think he was talking about losing your job.” He froze and clasped her by the shoulders. “What are you saying?” She wrapped her arms around her body. “If you don’t let Ethan and me go, I’m certain we’ll have an ‘accident,’ too.” Amanda paused. “Like Kathy and Joey.” Blake’s expression turned deadly, his eyes narrowed and cold. “Are you telling me Kathy and Joey’s car wreck wasn’t an accident?” “I don’t have proof, but I can’t take the chance. I’m desperate. Ethan saw the killer. He’s gone after us once. We have to leave before anyone else dies.” His face had gone gray as death. He reeled from her and sank into Joey’s bed, staring up at her. “They were murdered?” Chapter Three “We’ve got a problem with the sister and the kid.” The words spoken through the lieutenant’s prepaid cell phone made him frown. He rose from his desk and shoved his arms into his old leather jacket, irritated he couldn’t wear the winter coat that cost more than his colleagues made in a year. Maybe two. These days, though, he couldn’t be too careful. He exited the police station and rounded a corner. Damn it all. His entire setup was imploding. Millions of dollars still to be had and Vince had ruined everything. “Talk.” “The car she ripped off just popped up on a plate check.” The man at the other end paused. “In Carder, Texas.” The lieutenant punched the brick wall of the station. “I knew that bastard Vince was working with Blake all along. I should’ve killed them both.” Redmond had been too goody-goody to make it in the big city. He’d never understood how to the play the game. He’d talked too much, though. Enough that a convenient accident to the whistle-blowing cop would’ve started an investigation. Until his family had been killed—accidentally, of course. Still, it had taken his father’s death—accidental, of course—for Blake to drop everything, pack his bags and crawl back to the Podunk town where he belonged. The lieutenant frowned. Convenient. Well-planned. But stupid. Well, mistakes could be rectified and learned from. “Get to Carder. Vince must have sent the evidence there. Find it, then kill them. I want Vince’s family eliminated, and I want Blake Redmond silenced once and for all.” A slight pause over the phone spoke volumes. “You have a problem with that?” “Even the boy?” The tentative voice set his teeth on edge. Was the man getting squeamish? “Especially the boy. He’s the only witness. If you don’t want to end up in jail with some of the perps you put there, do the job right.” “Hey, Lieutenant.” He glanced up at a cheerful greeting and waved at the cop moving past the alley before returning to the conversation. “Any questions?” “No, sir.” “Johnson? Be smart. You screw this up, you’ll end up worse than Redmond. You’ll know why your family died.” * * * BLAKE’S KNEES GAVE WAY. He dropped to the bed Joey had never slept in. He couldn’t think, couldn’t process. His thoughts whirled and his hands shook. Not with fear, with fury. Could Kathy and Joey really have been murdered? Because of his questions, his investigation? The truth exploded into rage. He’d wanted to be a cop all his life. Justice. Duty. Honor. He’d believed in the hype. He’d lived it. It was in his blood. Could his son have died because of the life Blake had chosen? More than that. If Amanda was right, his partner had known. Vince, Blake’s so-called best friend, had known—or at least suspected—what had happened. He’d let Blake come back to Carder unaware, let those murderers run free. Bastard. Every instinct screamed at Blake to hightail it to Austin and rip apart his old police command center until he learned the truth. If they’d killed Kathy and Joey, he’d make whoever was involved pay. No matter the cost. “Blake?” He looked up at Amanda. Her voice quivered. Her deep blue eyes were filled with concern, pity…and something else. Fear? He averted his gaze and stared down at his hands. His knuckles were white. His fists trembled as wrath consumed him. He wanted to yell and scream, release the overwhelming anger that shook his soul. “Vroom.” The small rumbling sound filtered from the other room. Ethan. Blake blinked. He couldn’t scare the boy again. Control. He had to regain control. He took a long, shuddering breath. Then another. The police radio squawked to life from the other room. “Blake, it’s Parris. That car Scooter towed. I just ran the plates. It was stolen.” The words wrenched Blake out of the quicksand of emotions he’d been sinking into. He rose from Joey’s bed and looked at Amanda in disbelief. Her face paled. In guilt. Unbelievable. Helping her just got a lot more complicated. He crossed the floor to her. “Grand theft auto? A felony? What were you thinking? When you took that car, you tied my hands.” “Why’d your deputy have to run the plates? You ruined everything.” “Don’t put this on me. As far as Parris understood, the vehicle was abandoned. Standard procedure.” “And you’re just so danged efficient here in Carder, huh?” Blake shoved his hand through his hair. She’d broken the law, even though she’d had a damn good reason. He enforced the law, but justice was supposed to be black and white. There were too many blasted shades of gray here. He hated the gray. She didn’t back away but met his gaze. “Oh yeah, making life harder for you is just what I planned. The guy who shot me was chasing us. He knew the make, model and plates. The bullet holes and busted windows were a dead giveaway. I had to take that car. What was I supposed to do? Call the cops?” He understood. She didn’t know who she could trust in Austin. He didn’t, either. Blake cursed. She should have trusted him, though. She should have told him the truth the moment she regained consciousness. He needed time to think. He couldn’t pull in his staff or state contacts. He stalked into the living room, picked up the receiver and pressed the button. She raced after him and gripped his arm. “Please,” she whispered. He glared at her. Damn her for believing he’d put her or Ethan at risk. “Got the message, Parris. I’ll get back to you. Redmond out.” With a quick flick he turned down the volume on the receiver and faced Amanda. “You’ve put me in a tough spot.” “I know I can’t stay here,” she said. “With the plates on record, it’s only a matter of time before they find us. Please, Blake, forget you ever saw us. Let me disappear.” Anxiety coated her face and radiated from her voice. Her entire body tensed. She was ready to run. He hated the look, the sound of her fear. Hated Vince for pulling her into his mess, and that the man responsible wasn’t around to point the finger at the bad guys. “Austin is five hours away—in good weather. Get Ethan some breakfast, and we’ll come up with a plan.” “But—” She hesitated, a furtive glance toward the outside door, then the kitchen. He sighed and placed his hands on her slight shoulders, resisting the urge to pull her against him, to comfort her…to lose himself in her touch. He buried the yearning. “Give me time to figure out how to help you without us all ending up in jail.” He waited, half expecting her to challenge him again. Her questioning blue gaze studied him, as if she were trying to read his heart. He didn’t want her to look too closely. She’d shaken him to the core with her suspicions about his family’s death. He may very well have failed them in more ways than he’d ever imagined. He couldn’t fail her and Ethan, too. He wouldn’t. With a light touch of her hand on his arm, she nodded, called out to Ethan and led him, still clutching the toy truck, into the kitchen. At least occasionally she knew when not to push. Blake shrugged into his shearling coat and tugged down his Stetson, ignoring the fresh wave of grief that threatened to wash over him. He’d survived Joey’s death knowing that accidents happen. But murder… Blake shoved the thought away. One fact remained: Amanda had been shot. She and Ethan were terrified. He couldn’t let himself get distracted. Not now. Leo sat near the kitchen door, watching him. He detoured and grabbed his weapon as the crackle of frying bacon filtered through his house. Almost made the place homey, but Blake couldn’t indulge in that dream. He poked his head into the kitchen. “I’ll be in the barn,” he said, ignoring the familial picture of Amanda at the stove, Ethan playing at her feet. “I’ve turned on the intercom. It’s voice-activated, so I’ll hear you if you need me.” He had to find focus and clarity. For Kathy and Joey’s memory. For Ethan and Amanda’s safety. Leo followed him out of the kitchen, his tail down, whining. “Stay.” The dog’s ears sank and Blake patted the animal’s head. “Guard.” Alert, Leo headed back into the kitchen, giving Blake some piece of mind. The dog could have been a K-9. He was a born watchdog, and Blake needed all the help he could get. Amanda was right about one thing: once Parris had run the plates, the fuse had been lit. As Blake stepped on the yard, the crisp cold was no longer dangerous. The winter sun was brighter than usual. Before long, the ice would be gone, and travel would get back to normal. The perps would come to Carder. To find her and kill her. She was unfinished business. By sending Amanda here, Vince had brought murderers to Blake’s town. If these cops had also killed his family, they would use anyone and do anything to get what they wanted. Which put Carder, and particularly his mom, the last of his family, at risk. At least she’d moved into town after his father died, unable to bear living in their ranch house. She’d be a little harder to track down, but not impossible. He had to find a way to protect them all without bending the rules and becoming the cops he despised. His feet crunched along the grass as he headed toward the barn. The moment he walked in, the ornery horse his father had loved for his wild and fiery temper started up. The chestnut danced around, flicked his head and glared at Blake. The SOB would bite anyone else who came near him. Even worse after his father died. After a half hour of mindless chores, regret and strategizing, Blake knew he couldn’t avoid the stallion any longer. He grabbed a flake of hay and eased toward the stall. The animal puffed a breath through his nose and rose on his hind legs, batting the air. “He looks dangerous.” Amanda’s whisper filtered from behind. Blake’s heart skipped a beat at her voice. Utter aloneness had settled over him like a soggy, woolen blanket in this barn full of memories. The loss. The grief. Now, something inside of him longed to touch her, to turn to her. He’d wanted to hold her for longer than he cared to admit. He knew what her lips tasted like. He remembered so clearly when he’d come upon her under the mistletoe two years ago. Vince had egged him on, and she’d blushed, smiling, closing her eyes for a friendly kiss that had turned into so much more. When Blake had lowered his mouth to hers, the electricity between them knocked him over. He’d wrapped his arms around her. She’d parted her mouth under his. Only the whoops and hollers had stopped him from sweeping her into a bedroom. One look at Vince’s dark expression, though, and Blake had pushed the episode aside. He should do the same thing now. His first duty was to protect her and her son, not succumb to long-denied desires. “He is dangerous. He doesn’t like strangers.” Blake shifted his body between her and Sugar. “Where’s Ethan?” “Asleep,” she said softly, eyeing the snorting horse. “He just nodded off. I’m glad. He needed the rest. He didn’t get much on the drive here.” “Or last night.” Blake studied her every movement, the straightening of her spine, the flash of frustration in her eyes, the challenging tilt of her chin. “You could’ve left me with him. I’d have taken care of him.” “You needed the rest, too.” Blake took in the dark circles under her eyes, but he couldn’t let sympathy derail him. She hadn’t been honest. She had to start. He needed to know more. “Ethan screamed in his sleep.” Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». 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