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Cornered At Christmas
Barb Han
He'll do whatever it takes to keep his family safe. Mitch Kent is shocked to see his wife, Kimberly, just before the anniversary of her death! Having faked her own death to protect her family, she is still in danger and desperate for her husband’s help. Mitch will need a miracle to reunite his family…if Kimberly’s dark past doesn’t kill him first.
He’ll do whatever it takes
To keep his family safe.
Mitch Kent is shocked when he sees his wife, Kimberly, just before the anniversary of her supposed death. He learns she faked her own death to protect her family from an ominous threat and came back to see her husband and her young twins one last time. But she was followed, and now she’s desperate for her husband’s help. Mitch will need a miracle to reunite his broken family...if Kimberly’s dark past doesn’t kill him first.
USA TODAY bestselling author BARB HAN lives in north Texas with her very own hero-worthy husband, three beautiful children, a spunky golden retriever/standard poodle mix and too many books in her to-read pile. In her downtime, she plays video games and spends much of her time on or around a basketball court. She loves interacting with readers and is grateful for their support. You can reach her at barbhan.com (http://www.barbhan.com)
Also by Barb Han (#u8a2678ba-1ad0-5002-bd7a-d59d385ca9bb)
Sudden Setup
Endangered Heiress
Texas Grit
Kidnapped at Christmas Murder
and Mistletoe Bulletproof
Christmas Stockyard Snatching
Dlivering Justice
One Tough Texan
Texas-Sized Trouble
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).
Cornered at Christmas
Barb Han
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09438-2
CORNERED AT CHRISTMAS
В© 2019 Barb Han
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#u8a2678ba-1ad0-5002-bd7a-d59d385ca9bb)
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All my love to Brandon, Jacob and Tori, my
favorite people in the world.
To Babe, my hero, for being my great love and my place
to call home.
To Jeff Amsden, for Phoenix.
Contents
Cover (#uc0a17511-b5ca-5a3b-a549-1045593752bd)
Back Cover Text (#u20507230-fb95-5a20-96df-69308f752a56)
About the Author (#u280020d3-3345-579e-b42a-3b3d9cb06fd0)
Booklist (#udd746026-1993-5404-8b45-a51948f885bd)
Title Page (#u4650d4a3-0fc5-5243-8f8c-62c53033e185)
Copyright (#ua5abc312-6fc7-5445-897f-c693fcefb80f)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u260a3281-50b1-5c9a-99b7-7817b7c646d7)
Chapter One (#u600e55ed-223d-50aa-8705-f2c425204466)
Chapter Two (#uaf7b8944-96d0-5e40-bda6-9b61c7d40c54)
Chapter Three (#u66040aaf-3ab2-58e9-9781-f52c20b53314)
Chapter Four (#u7ee4020a-ff5d-53a4-b017-8b25cf62dee7)
Chapter Five (#u53881869-68ad-55c3-a2ca-4a893cb0ce29)
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)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u8a2678ba-1ad0-5002-bd7a-d59d385ca9bb)
The weather was warmer than usual for a late fall morning in North Texas, the heavy air loaded with the threat of a thunderstorm. Mitch Kent was gripping the handlebar of the double stroller so tightly as he stalked toward the medical plaza that his knuckles were turning white. Anger roared through him as reality sucker punched him. He’d already lost so much. A father twenty-three months ago. A wife less than that. The possibility of losing Rea, his infant daughter, gnawed away what was left of his gut.
Granted, all signs pointed toward positive news this visit for his younger and smaller twin. Life had taught Mitch how fast it could reverse and how devastating it could be when it took a wrong turn. He felt like he had about as much control as a sailboat in a hurricane. And that made him all kinds of frustrated. Mitch didn’t go the helpless-victim route.
His cell buzzed in his pocket, breaking the pressure building between his shoulders that was threatening to crack him in half. He fished it out and checked the screen. It was Amber, his sister and the youngest of six Kent siblings.
“Wish I could be there with you, Mitch.” She skipped over hellos.
“It’s fine,” he said probably a little too fast.
“You’re not and you don’t have to be,” she countered, her voice strained. He appreciated the concern, just not the fuss.
“We talked about it last night when you called. You’re needed at the ranch and I can handle this,” he reassured her. He hoped she didn’t pick up on the emptiness in those words.
There was a long pause.
“Are you sure you want to do this by yourself?” she finally asked. He didn’t want to do any of it alone but life had detoured, leaving him to roll with the turns and try not to get sucked into the current.
“I haven’t had two minutes of privacy since the twins were born,” he said with a half laugh. That part was true enough and he tried to lighten the mood with humor. Anything to keep his thoughts from taking the headfirst dive that always left him wondering how he’d do any of this without Kimberly.
“You know what I mean.” She was the last of his siblings to call before the twins’ one-year checkup. Each of his brothers—Will, Devin, Nate and Jordan—had done their best to lift Mitch’s mood. During the appointment, he’d learn if his younger twin, the little girl, was in the clear or headed for surgery. The thought of anyone cracking open her tiny body was a hot poker in his chest.
“I know you’d be here if you could, Amber. The ranch needs you more than I do.” The Kent siblings had inherited their parents’ North Texas cattle ranch nearly two years ago, following their father’s death. Their mother had passed six months prior.
The one-hour drive into Fort Worth had been smooth and the twins had slept most of the way. But the two were wide-awake now and taking in the scenery as he pushed their stroller onto the center of the medical plaza. A maze of buildings surrounded them and there was a memorial fountain that was catching the twins’ attention in the center of the complex. Mitch stopped in front of the three-story glass-walled structure attached to the hospital in the state-of-the-art building that contained the doctor his wife had handpicked for their babies.
“She’s going to be okay, Mitch. You know that, right?” Amber said, and he could hear the concern in her voice even though she tried to mask it.
“There’s every reason to hope based on the last couple of appointments,” he responded. The last eleven months without Kimberly had been hell. Mitch Kent missed his wife. He missed the way her hair smelled like freshly cut lilies when she would curl into the crook of his arm every night in bed. He missed the feel of her warm body pressed to his, long into the night. The easy way they had with each other, talking until the sun came up. And he missed coming home to her smile every night after a long day of working his family’s cattle ranch. Losing her had damn near shattered him.
First his mother, followed by his father. Then his wife. He’d lost so much.
Mitch realized he was still tightly gripping the stroller with his left hand. He flexed and released his fingers to get the blood flowing again.
“Those babies couldn’t have asked for a better father.” With five rough-and-tumble brothers, Amber was the emotional voice of the Kent brood.
“They need their mother.” There were more times than Mitch could count that he’d wished his wife was still alive. They might have dated only a few months before tying the knot, but he’d fallen hard. When a man met the woman he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with, he knew it. Hers had been cut way too short. “I’m glad they have you.”
“Good. Because I’m not going anywhere. Call me Super Aunt.” He could tell she was getting emotional based on the change in her tone and the lame attempt at humor.
“Sounds like a plan.” He went with it.
“And don’t forget Amy.” She was referring to their cousin. Amber and Amy were close in age, and both were mostly sweet with wild streaks that got them in trouble from time to time. Both had hearts of gold, and he couldn’t have asked for better women to be in his twins’ lives.
“Call or text the minute you get word.” Amber made him promise.
“I will,” he said before ending the call.
Mitch would learn today if his daughter, born two minutes after his son and almost two pounds lighter, was in the clear. In the best-case scenario, the small hole in the wall that separated the two lower chambers of Rea’s heart was still too small to cause any serious damage, like overworking her heart and lungs or sending blood flowing in the wrong direction. Mitch blocked out another possibility. The one that involved a lot of medical jargon, some kind of fabric patch and cracking open the center of his baby girl’s chest.
The appointment last month had gone off without a hitch. The doctor had said he was encouraged by what he heard when he listened to her chest. All signs were pointing toward good news. But doing any of this without his Kimberly seemed wrong. Then again everything that had happened in the past eleven months since her devastating car crash had been all wrong.
An all-consuming fist of guilt took another punch at him for not stopping her from walking out the door that day with her car keys in hand. For the sake of his children, he pushed the unproductive emotion aside. Reliving hell didn’t ease the burns.
His courtship with Kimberly might’ve been a whirlwind but his feelings for his wife were anything but a passing storm. He’d known her barely two months before popping the question, which had surprised him even more than his siblings. They’d gone along with the wedding without protest after meeting Kimberly and seeing the two of them together. And they’d stood by his side on that cold rainy day when he’d first heard about the crash.
Mitch rubbed the scruff on his chin and blinked his blurry eyes, forcing back the barrage of thoughts racing through him. Letting his mind run wild wouldn’t bring his wife back.
Exhaustion had thrown him off today. He gave himself a mental slap to shake off the bad mood.
He needed more caffeine.
Sleep and twins went together about as well as hot sauce and ice cream, and Mitch was beginning to feel the effects of being up for most of the night with the kiddos. Both were teething, which pretty much meant drippy chins.
The sounds of his daughter’s babbling floated on top of the heavy fall air. He’d insisted on naming their little girl after her mother, but Kimberly had argued against it. They’d finally agreed on Andrea if she could go by Rea instead—Aaron and Andrea. Of course, he’d take back every disagreement if he could get back that last day with her and tell her to stay home instead of walking her out the door, handing her the car keys and telling her how much she needed a break.
Rea was growing into a talker. Mitch had no idea what the little tyke was saying, but that didn’t stop his daughter from prattling on and on. Both he and Kimberly were quiet people, so he wasn’t sure how his daughter had gotten the trait. Aaron was the silent one. He’d pick something up and examine it rather than chuck it across the room. Mitch had a babbler and a thinker.
Mitch thought about the labels he’d picked up in the past two years. Ranch owner. Husband. Father. Widower.
The worst part about being the latter—aside from the sobering fact that he’d lost the only woman he could ever love—was the cursed feeling that Kimberly was somehow still alive.
Granted, her body was never found. But Mitch’s other cousin, Sheriff Zachary McWilliams, had assured him that there was no way she’d survived the accident. The car, her car, had been pulled out of the ravine with barely half a windshield. Based on estimates, she’d shot out of the driver’s side like a cannon and ejected some twenty-five feet across the water before sinking. The official search had lasted six days. Flash floods and more severe storms had complicated the effort, and her body had most likely been swept away. Extra divers had volunteered to work on their days off once word had gotten around that Mitch Kent’s wife had been involved in a terrible accident. But getting a late start because of worsening conditions had meant recovering a body was less likely.
He’d requested privacy from the media, which was something he was certain his wife would’ve wanted. Zach had also assured him that it would minimize the number of crackpots coming out of the woodwork, trying to get a piece of the Kent fortune. Mostly he’d done it for his wife. She’d insisted on staying out of the spotlight. The family attorney, Harley Durant, had kept the entire story limited to a blurb on the last page of the Fort Worth Star Telegram. Harley knew how to move mountains. He also knew how to keep a secret, and he had enough connections to back it up.
Since losing Dad and inheriting the cattle ranch with his five siblings two years ago, Mitch had been getting a good feel for running the place, and that was in large part due to Harley. So far Mitch was the only one living on the land full-time, but construction was planned or in process for the others to join him on the property with homes of their own.
It had been him and his wife living on the ranch up until now. Mitch still half expected her to walk through the front door.
He’d been told by a well-meaning aunt that he couldn’t expect closure because her body had never been found. The same person had encouraged him to join a support group and find a way to move on. Mitch didn’t especially believe in that mumbo jumbo. It was most likely the fact that Rea’s eyes and thick black hair made her look more like her mother every day. Both twins reminded him of Kimberly. And maybe that was the reason he saw her everywhere.
Mitch pushed the babies toward the double glass doors of the three-story building attached to the east side of the hospital.
His cell buzzed in his pocket again, so he fished it out and checked the screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of someone staring at him and a chill raced up his spine. Coming up on the anniversary of Kimberly’s death must be playing tricks on him, because the woman was her height and had her figure, so his mind immediately snapped to thinking it could be her. Damn, he needed to get a grip.
Did he really think Kimberly would be at the plaza near the hospital and pediatrician’s office? That was impossible. He’d buried Kimberly Kent at least mentally if not physically. Her grave was in the meadow she loved, not a hundred yards from the house, from her family.
“What’s going on?” he asked his top cowhand, Lonnie Roark, aka Lone Star Lonnie.
“Found something near the base of Rushing Creek that I thought you might want to take a look at personally,” Lone Star said.
“Okay. What will I see?” Mitch asked impatiently. He wasn’t frustrated with Lonnie; he was aggravated with himself for imagining his dead wife in the plaza.
Curiosity got the best of him, so he turned to get a better look at the woman. She shifted her purse to her other shoulder and he could’ve sworn her movements mimicked Kimberly’s.
It couldn’t be her, though. His wife had blue-black hair the color of a cloudless night sky that cascaded down her back. This woman had short, curly hair with so much bleach that it had turned white.
For a split second he locked gazes with her. She spun around, putting her back to him and tucking her chin to her chest. That was odd and it sent a cold ripple down his back. He strained to get a better look from this distance, but she’d moved next to a sculpture of some sort. He supposed it was modern art but he never did understand what that meant. The woman glanced back at him and his gut coiled.
Or maybe it wasn’t that strange and he was just overly on edge. She sidestepped, breaking his line of sight as she blocked herself with the sculpture. What was Bleached-Blonde up to?
“It’s one of the herd.” Lone Star hesitated, which wasn’t like him and set off a firework display of warning lights inside Mitch. This day was going to hell fast.
“What’s going on?” Mitch tried to stifle his annoyance. He couldn’t take his eyes off the partially blocked mystery woman. His need to get a closer look to prove she wasn’t Kimberly set him off. If he knew what was best, he’d walk away. Leave it alone.
So why the hell couldn’t he?
“One of the heifers must’ve caught hold of something and it tore one of her hooves off. Thing is I’ve searched everywhere within a fifty-foot radius and can’t find the darn thing. What’s left of her leg is a mess.”
“You got an opinion on what could’ve happened?” Mitch didn’t like the sound of this and it darkened his already somber mood.
“I’d be throwing spaghetti against the wall. There’s no other sign of trouble and it looks like she died from bleeding out.”
Mitch winced at the slow death that would’ve been for her. He bit back a curse. “Any tracks leading up to her?”
“Nothing I can see.”
“You were right to call,” he said on a sharp sigh. The stress of the day that had barely started already wore on him.
“I know you have enough on your plate this morning, boss.” The people closest to Mitch knew about Rea’s condition. Lone Star was in Mitch’s inner circle. Even though Mitch was the boss, he and Lonnie were longtime friends. Mitch knew most folks in town, having grown up in Jacobstown, and he and Lonnie had been schoolmates.
“This was worth the interruption. Keep her right where she is until I can get back. You were right about me wanting to see for myself. Do me a favor and keep everyone else out of the area until I can check it out.” Mitch didn’t like the sound of this one bit. It could involve anything from bored teens who were up to no good or acting on a dare to cultists, and Mitch wanted answers. If this was a prank gone wrong, he’d deal with it. Anger fisted his free hand. There was no excuse for making an animal suffer. “Thanks for the heads-up. Give me a call if you find any others. For now I’m assuming this is the only issue.”
“Haven’t found others but I have the boys counting heads,” Lone Star Lonnie confirmed. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled just in case.”
“Let’s keep the rest of the herd away from the area.” Mitch figured it would be a good idea to keep them closer to the south-facing pasture.
He glanced up to see the woman had disappeared. Curiosity had him scanning the area, searching for her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a streak of blond hair jutting out from the front of a hoodie. The woman wore jeans, tennis shoes and sunglasses. He did a double take to make sure it was the same person. Had she noticed that he’d been staring?
Of course she had; otherwise why put on the hoodie that had been tied around her waist? Mitch needed to turn around and get his tail in gear so he wouldn’t be late for the doctor visit.
So why couldn’t he force his boots to move?
Mitch rubbed his blurry eyes before ending the call with Lone Star. All kinds of scenarios ran through his mind about the mystery woman. Could Kimberly have survived the accident but had no idea who she was? Had someone saved her from the wreckage? Been keeping her all of this time?
No, someone would’ve put two and two together by now.
Lack of sleep wasn’t doing great things for his brain. The woman couldn’t be Kimberly. His wife was dead.
For whatever reason he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Curiosity? Something else? Something more primal?
An ache formed in his chest. It was wishful thinking that had him wanting to get a closer look at the blonde. He’d already calculated the odds and knew this was a losing hand. Try getting his fool heart to listen to logic.
Mitch checked his watch. Technically he was ten minutes early.
Turning the stroller toward the mystery woman, he decided to double down on his bad luck. He scanned the area and noticed a pair of men on the opposite side of the plaza, standing with their faces angled toward her. She turned her head slightly toward the men and he could see her tense up. She took a step closer to a light pole and Mitch realized she was trying to block their line of sight.
Now Mitch’s curiosity really skyrocketed.
Call it the cowboy code, but he needed to know that she would be okay. The blonde seemed to be in some kind of trouble, and he didn’t like the looks of the two men wearing their jacket collars upturned, reflective sunglasses and ball caps. Very little of their faces were visible and his experience had taught him that law-abiding citizens didn’t hide their faces in public. Nothing about either of them said they were law enforcement, so he assumed the blonde wasn’t doing anything illegal.
One of the men moved enough to see around the light pole. He had his phone out, angled toward the blonde. Was he stalking her? Was he an ex? Someone she’d rejected? More thoughts along those lines crossed his mind, and none of them sat well.
Of course, a stalker would be alone. The guy standing next to the picture taker seemed just as interested in her, and didn’t that jack up more of Mitch’s danger radar? Were the men targeting her?
The blonde seemed to realize something was going on. Good for her. She wouldn’t be an easy mark that way.
Once again his thoughts circled back to how familiar this woman seemed. Was there any chance his wife had survived the accident but lost her memory? Could she have been walking around for the past eleven months with no idea who she was or where she came from?
It might be a stretch but he’d heard stranger things had happened.
Or did he want to see his wife again so badly that he was confusing her with a stranger? A woman who was similar in size and shape, who also seemed to be alone and in trouble? Was he grasping at any sign of hope?
There was only one way to find out.
Chapter Two (#u8a2678ba-1ad0-5002-bd7a-d59d385ca9bb)
Kimberly’s husband turned toward her and took a few steps in her direction. No. No. No. Go back.
Seeing her babies, their sweet faces, was so much harder than she’d thought it would be. The twins were one-year-old now and she’d known their first-year checkup would be around this time. It wasn’t difficult to call the scheduler of the pediatrician she’d meticulously vetted to get the exact day and time.
Pain nearly crippled her but she fought against the tide of emotion. She couldn’t lose control. There was too much at stake.
Life was about to spin out of control. Again. Seeing her twins one more time was a risk that Kimberly Kent—correction, Lily Grable—had had to take. The past eleven months had been excruciating, like living in a cave with no prayer of sunlight breaking through the darkness.
Life had taught Kimberly how to deal with loss early on. But nothing had prepared her for walking away from the only man she could ever love and the babies she’d only dreamed were possible. Happily-ever-after was for princesses, not orphans like Kimberly. And now she risked making all of that heartache count for nothing if Mitch recognized her. Or worse if the men watching her connected the dots to her family.
Panic seized her.
Let Mitch get a few steps closer and he would make a scene. She let herself take another look at him even though the grip around her heart from before tightened the minute she did.
Mitch looked even better than she remembered. At six foot four he’d always dwarfed her. His wide chest and ripples of muscles were visible underneath his Western shirt. Those muscled thighs... She could see wisps of his sandy-brown hair from the rim of his gray Stetson. The color of his hat would match the steel of his eyes.
Maybe she could play it cool and Mitch would stop. There was no way he could realize who she was with as much as she’d changed her appearance. Right? She looked at her husband from out of the corner of her eye and her stomach fell. He was too curious to give up, and that was bad.
He’d expose her, himself and the babies. She glanced toward the pair of men who’d found her. They’d seen her but had they pegged her? Did they know who she was? That was the big question.
Kimberly eased around the back of the sculpture, forcing her body to move away from Mitch when every muscle inside her wanted to run toward him instead. She breathed in the heavy Texas autumn air and tried to block out the memories of feeling safe in his arms. A storm was brewing and the humidity kicked up a few notches alongside her pulse.
Her heart pounded against her ribs at the thought she might be bringing the men who were chasing her right to her husband and children’s doorstep. Whoever had killed her father and was now after her seemed ready to stop at nothing. The men wouldn’t think twice about using her children or Mitch to draw her out. And even after two and a half years she had no idea what they wanted from her. All she knew was that her father had gotten himself into trouble. Beyond that she had no idea with whom or how. Her street smarts had kept her alive. She’d immediately changed her identity and gotten out of New Mexico.
But those creeps always seemed to catch up no matter how well she hid.
She’d had no choice but to disappear after giving birth, once the creeps had shown up in Jacobstown, Texas. She still had no idea what they wanted from her. Her father had left her a cryptic message to stay in the shadows until he cleaned up his mess hours before his death—a death that had been ruled an accident, but Kimberly knew better. There was no way her father would’ve drowned. He couldn’t swim and was deathly afraid of the water, although he’d never admitted to that fear. The man had never once been out on a boat, so it made even less sense that he would’ve rented one, taken it out and then—what?—decided to jump off the side and swim for the first time in his life?
Guilt nipped at her. She’d known he was in trouble but she had been too involved in work at the small craft boutique and night school to stop to ask why. Her father had been acting strange for months, missing their dinner dates and not picking up his cell when she called. His behavior had been erratic and she could kick herself for not pressing him for details about why he was acting so weird. She’d honestly and naively believed that he’d tell her if something was really wrong. He’d always been her rock and she’d been able to count on him. Losing her foster mom to kidney disease had been hard on both of them. At the time she had thought that most of her dad’s antics had to do with grief.
Looking back she should’ve seen the signs. Should’ve taken him more seriously. Should’ve been a better daughter to the man who’d taken her in when she was at her lowest point and saved her life.
“You’re scaring me, Dad,” she’d admitted when he’d asked her to get rid of her cell and use the new one he’d handed her.
“I’m being cautious,” he’d defended. “Make your old man happy and use the phone.”
“Only if you promise to tell me what this is about,” she’d said.
“I will. Give me a couple of days to get it sorted out first,” he’d promised.
“You’re sure this isn’t a big deal?” It had felt like one with the way he was acting.
“I owe someone a little money and they’re blowing it out of proportion.” He’d winked at her. “Nothing I can’t handle. I just don’t want you being bothered until I get this sorted out.”
The only reason she’d left it at that was because he’d seemed embarrassed. She’d thought maybe he didn’t want his creditor calling her, so she’d left it at face value.
Guilt was a face punch. If she’d pushed him for answers, he might still be alive.
When Deputy Talisman had all but accused her of foul play in order to inherit her father’s business, she’d been defensive. It had become clear to her pretty quickly that she was going to be the target of his investigation. And then two men had busted into her apartment in the middle of the night. She’d barely managed to escape and had been on the run ever since.
Marrying Mitch had been done on a whim. The almost-immediate pregnancy had been a shock. And she would pay the price for those lapses in judgment for the rest of her life, which would be short if the creeps following her caught up to her.
A part of her wondered if this whole ordeal would ever be over. Could she come back to the life she’d loved with Mitch and the babies?
Reality said it would be impossible.
Her heart galloped at the sight of her husband moving toward her out of the corner of her eye, along with her sweet babies, who turned one today. Birthdays were supposed to be happy events. But being this close without being able to touch her children felt like knife jabs to her chest.
Knowing that the twins would be at the office of the pediatrician she’d meticulously vetted prior to having those two little miracles had made it far too tempting. Going anywhere near Jacobstown, Texas, or the ranch was and had been off-limits. Those were lines she knew better than to cross. No matter how much she wanted—no, needed—to see her babies again, she couldn’t risk bringing the creeps she’d been running from for an exhausting two and-a-half years to their doorstep. And then there was Mitch...
Seeing him again hurt.
Leaving a question mark in her husband’s mind about her death wasn’t ideal—a determined man could be dangerous. And part of her wished she could’ve confided in him, wished he could save her. She’d been close to confessing in the days before finding out she was pregnant. She’d known he would put his life at risk and she’d needed him to focus on protecting the twins.
How stupid had she been when she’d met him to think she could ever have a normal life? A normal life with kids and a man she loved, who loved her in return more than anything else?
That kind of love had been too powerful to turn her back on and had seduced her into thinking she could disappear into obscurity in the small town where she’d been hiding.
Mitch was everything a man should be to her—strong, virile...honest. Lying to him about her identity had been even more difficult because of that. Kimberly had been lying to herself for so long that she’d all but forgotten how to be truthful anymore. And maybe that’s what had drawn her to the serious rancher with the steel-colored eyes.
Falling for Mitch Kent had been the easy part. She’d done that hard. Apparently she’d knocked a few screws loose when she’d made that tumble, because she’d landed in a fantasy that said if she kept a low profile, everything in her life would magically work out. But there were a few determined men who wanted to erase her presence. By the time she’d met Mitch, she’d already been running for six months.
A part of her wished—prayed—that he would forget all about her. The other part—the selfish part—couldn’t go there even hypothetically. She wanted him to remember her, to love her.
“Kimberly,” he said from behind her, and there was certainty in his voice instead of a question.
Certainty would kill them all.
A glance to the right said Mitch wasn’t the only one about to close in on her. She felt like a mouse trapped in a maze.
There had to be something to use to create a distraction so she could get out of there. The air thinned, making it difficult to breathe.
A middle-aged woman wearing jeans and a light sweater walked toward her from the south with a black Lab on a leash. Kimberly bolted toward the woman and forced a smile.
“Can I pet your dog, ma’am?” she asked, pouring on the sweetness.
The woman beamed.
“Of course,” she said as she went on about the dog’s age and pedigree.
Kimberly dropped down to one knee before unhooking the leash in the bustling complex.
“I’m sorry,” she said to the confused woman before popping to her feet. She shooed the dog. “Run!”
The black Lab darted toward the fountain as the woman gasped and then called after him.
Okay, Kimberly felt awful for doing that and wished there’d been another way to create a diversion. In the heat of the moment, that was all she could think of.
With another quick apology, Kimberly wheeled left and sprinted away from the pediatrician’s building. A pair of heavy footsteps sounded from behind and she could tell by their rhythm that they were faster than her, racing closer and gaining ground.
At least Mitch would be stopped because of the stroller. Seeing those angelic round faces threatened to cripple her, but she couldn’t afford to give in. She had to protect what was hers. Stuffing her feelings down deep helped her focus.
Kimberly’s best chance to lose the pair of creeps catching up to her was to get lost inside the hospital behind the pediatrician’s office. She knew the area and that would give her an advantage. There would be armed security and the men following her wouldn’t risk making themselves the center of attention by pulling something stupid. She hoped.
At least she could draw them away from Mitch and the babies. Kimberly sprinted around another building, trying to lose the men in the maze of buildings. Her thighs burned and her lungs were starting to wheeze.
The footsteps behind her stopped. Her worst fear seized her. Were the men circling back for Mitch?
Her breath caught and her heart screamed no.
How stupid and selfish had she been to come here? The past eleven months had been about taking calculated risks and watching her back at every turn. She’d just led those men practically to Mitch’s doorstep. Kimberly bit back a few choice words, refusing to let negativity drag her under.
With the stroller, it would be impossible for Mitch to catch up to her. She’d cleared a few buildings and had crossed over to the front of the hospital, slowing her pace to a brisk walk as she entered through the automatic glass doors.
Activity buzzed all around her, and the modern lobby looked like a coffeehouse, with tables sprinkled around and folks on their laptops. The main difference was the fact that doctors and nurses cut across the open space, making their way to restricted-access areas.
Taking a chance, Kimberly checked behind her for the men. Nothing. Her heart took a dive.
Where were they?
MITCH FLEXED AND released his hands on the grip bar of the stroller. He’d scared a woman half to death by thinking she was his dead wife. Wasn’t this turning into a banner day?
He wished he’d gotten a good look at Bleached-Blonde’s face before she’d put her arm up to shield it and then disappeared in the commotion after a dog got loose from its owner.
Great. Now he could add scaring strangers to the already stressful morning he was having.
Thankfully the twins were clueless. Rea happily cooed and chatted, and Aaron took everything in while sucking on a pair of his fingers.
The men who’d been eyeing the Bleached-Blonde seemed to have given up on her. They’d returned to the plaza before heading toward the parking lot. It was probably Mitch’s imagination that had him thinking those two were after her. He could add paranoia to his growing list of deficiencies.
The news from Lone Star Lonnie had thrown Mitch for a loop, on top of everything else he was dealing with, and maybe he was starting to crack. That was the only explanation for why he believed that he’d just seen his dead wife. She was on his mind even more than usual today. It was time to get back to reality, including getting his babies to their appointment.
Mitch pushed the stroller through the opened double doors and then took the elevator up to the third floor. He checked in and then waited.
A few minutes later he was ushered into the blue room to wait for the doctor and find out how much his life was about to change. Again.
Good news came from the pediatrician. Rea looked to be growing out of her heart defect. She’d have to continue to be monitored, which he’d expected, but the hole in her lower valve seemed to be closing on its own. Gratitude washed over Mitch, bringing a few stray tears to his eyes.
The drive from Fort Worth to Jacobstown gave him the chance to fill in his siblings and cousins, thanks to Bluetooth technology and his cell phone. Joyce, the twins’ caregiver, met him on the driveway. She’d decorated the dining room with balloons and went to work serving lunch and cake to celebrate before taking the kiddos up for their naps.
Mitch had kissed both babies before picking up the fresh flowers he’d ordered and heading out the back door.
Joyce was a sweet woman in her late sixties who’d helped bring up Mitch, along with his siblings. She’d managed to wrangle six Kent children before retiring years ago but when she’d learned one of her “babies” was having babies, she’d insisted on returning to care for them.
Lucky for him, Kimberly had welcomed Joyce’s help. The fact that she’d taken to the idea had caught him off guard at first. Kimberly had always been a private person. And that was where his luck had run out.
Sitting on the bench he’d carved out of solid wood beside the tallest oak on the property, he looked down at the marker. Kimberly Kent—loving wife and devoted mother.
She wasn’t supposed to be buried there. His mind pointed out that she technically wasn’t. It didn’t matter. Kimberly Kent was gone.
He crossed his boots at the ankles.
When the twins were old enough, he’d bring them here to see their mother. He set the fresh flowers down—lilies. Her favorite. They reminded him of her, of her fresh-from-the-shower scent.
The wind started to pick up as a few more gray clouds rolled in, reflecting his somber mood. Rain was in the forecast, in the air, and it had been drier than a salt lick all week.
The feeling of being watched settled over him. Amber? One of his brothers? He scanned the meadow but saw nothing. Further proof that he was losing it.
The idea anyone could be in the meadow without his knowledge hit hard. Someone had been on the ranch undetected. The sheer amount of acreage owned by the Kent family made it impossible to monitor every inch. But still...
His gaze dropped to the plot of land in front of him.
“I saw you outside the pediatrician’s office today,” he said to the green grass over an empty grave. “Even though it couldn’t have been you, I wanted her to be.” He paused, choking back the emotion threatening to consume him—emotion that he’d successfully buried. “Rea’s doctor visit was good. She’s going to be just fine.” Another pause to get his emotions in check. “I miss you, Kimberly.”
Mitch cursed. Now he was talking to dirt.
He pushed up to stand as an empty feeling engulfed him, threatening to drag him under and toss him around before spitting him out again like a deadly riptide.
Pain made him feel alive after being hollow inside for months. The ache in his chest every time he took in air was the only reminder he was still breathing.
A prickly feeling ran up the back of his neck, like when someone said a cat walked over a grave.
Mitch didn’t do emotions, so why the hell were his like a race car at full speed, careening out of control and toward the wall today? His baby sister’s words from last year kept winding through his thoughts, drowning out logic and reason, the two things he was good at.
What if she’s alive? What if she’s still out there?
Mitch touched the grave marker, dragging his fingers across the smooth granite and into the grooves made by the letters of Kimberly’s name.
And then he tucked his feelings down deep before texting Lone Star Lonnie that he was on his way to check out the heifer before it rained.
Walking away from his wife’s grave was especially tough today. His thoughts were heavy as he made his way to the base of Rushing Creek, on the northeast side of the property.
Even though he’d prepared for the worst, the site still caught him off guard. Blood was everywhere. His heifer was on her right side in a pool of red on flat land. There was no sign of a trap that could’ve taken off her hoof and messed up her leg like that. She’d bled out and that would’ve been a slow death.
Anger roared through him as he thought about how much she’d suffered. It was inhumane to do this to an animal. Lone Star Lonnie had downplayed the situation with the heifer, Mitch thought as he stood over her.
Everything inside him felt as torn up and drained as the lifeless heifer next to him.
Whoever had done this would be brought to justice.
Chapter Three (#u8a2678ba-1ad0-5002-bd7a-d59d385ca9bb)
The pitch-black night sky was a dark canopy overhead. Thick clouds smothered the moon, blocking out any possibility of light. Rain came down in sheets. The conditions were a problem. There’d be tracks. Kimberly couldn’t afford to leave a trail or any sign she’d been there.
If the storm continued, there’d be no issue. Flash floods were common in this area of Texas and could wash away her hiking-boot prints. If the weather dried up, anyone could follow her based on the imprints she made.
She stepped lightly, careful to weave through the low-hanging branches rather than break them—again another way to track her movements. Being on the run had taught her to leave the smallest footprint possible. Leave a trace and someone would find her—the creeps following her had already proven that more than once. She’d racked her brain, thinking how they could’ve picked up her trail leading to the pediatrician’s office earlier.
Kimberly cursed under her breath as tears threatened. How could she have been so careless? So stupid?
Guilt nearly impaled her.
She couldn’t sit by and watch the only people she loved get hurt because of her. She had to make this right. She prayed that she could find the right words to convince Mitch to leave with the babies and disappear.
Seeing her alive would shock her husband. And he would hate her for what she’d done to him, to their family. Not that she could blame him. Sharp stabs of pain spiked through her, because she would feel the same way if the situation was reversed.
That wouldn’t stop—couldn’t stop—her from doing what she needed to do.
Being on the ranch brought back other memories. Memories that punched her in the stomach. Memories of being under this same sky on a starlit evening with Mitch’s arms around her, feeling like she could slay her fears and stay right there for the rest of her life. Then there were all of those Sunday-morning breakfasts in bed after passionate nights.
They’d when she’d rented a cabin on Lake Orion. On her weekly trip into town for supplies was when she’d first seen him. She’d been at the lake for a couple of days already and had worn her hair down around her face, a light cotton T-shirt and a simple pair of jeans with tennis shoes.
Mitch had come up behind her while she stood in line with her small cart filled with everything she’d need for two weeks for a single person. He didn’t speak to her right away, but she turned to look at him the minute she felt the strong male presence. It seemed like every single woman in the place came over to say hello while he stood in line behind Kimberly. Mitch was handsome—no question about that—but he also had a sexual appeal that made women blush when they spoke to him. The pitch in their voices raised and it was so easy to tell they were flirting.
Kimberly thought her eyes would roll into the back of her head when one of the women nearly knocked over the media stand while she complimented his boots. There’d been so much bemusement in his voice—a deep voice that trailed down the sensitive skin of her neck and wrapped around her—when he thanked the woman that Kimberly had almost laughed out loud. The ladies had been so sickeningly sweet that Kimberly wanted to throw up.
Her reaction must’ve been written all over her face when she turned to get another look at the all-male presence stirring up all of the commotion behind her. Yeah, she’d been rubbernecking but she couldn’t help herself. She had only a couple of weeks to be in town and she needed to see what all the fuss was about.
The second she turned and got a good look, she realized her mistake. Her cheeks flamed, her throat dried and a thousand birds fluttered inside her chest, leaving her to wonder, Who is this man?
Her hand fell slack and she dropped her wallet, spilling change all over his boots, which actually were nice. If embarrassment could kill a person, she would’ve dropped dead on the spot. Lucky for her, it couldn’t. And the tall, muscled cowboy had dropped down to help her collect her things.
He’d been gracious and generous and all of the things she figured a cowboy code would require. But when his fingers grazed her palm as he handed over her quarters and pennies, pure electricity shot through her. Her body hummed and based on the look in his steel-gray eyes when their gazes connected, he felt the current every bit as much.
After introducing himself, he’d asked if she would have dinner with him that night.
It took a few seconds for logic to kick in and for her to remember how dangerous that would be for both of them, but it did and she refused—albeit without conviction. She thanked him for helping her, turned and was grateful she was next in line. The cashier acknowledged her with a smile as she busied herself placing her items on the motorized belt. Inside, she concentrated on trying to breathe as the cashier ran her items across the scanner.
Kimberly’s pulse raced and all she could think about was getting out of there and back to the privacy of the cabin on the lake. She fumbled for the right dollar amount. Using cash was another way to stay off the grid.
The handsome cowboy had followed her to the parking lot as she loaded groceries into the plastic container she’d fixed onto the back of the dirt bike she’d bought from a seventeen-year-old boy who went by the name Smash. Based on the condition of the dirt bike, he’d earned that nickname, but she didn’t care. All she’d needed was reliable transportation to get her to and from the store and something she could use for a quick escape if the need arose.
Experience had taught her to be prepared for anything and especially the pair of creeps who always seemed to be one step behind.
“You sure about dinner?” he’d asked with the kind of smile that made women go weak at the knees as he held out a fistful of coins. She knew for sure because her legs almost gave.
It had most likely been that moment of hesitation—that too-quick smile—that had him showing up two days after she’d refused him in the lot.
The rain had been coming down in sheets on that day, too.
“What are you doing here?” she’d asked as she opened the door to find him standing on her porch, waterlogged and even more handsome than she remembered.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about you for two days,” he’d said, and her heart pounded so hard against her ribs, she thought they might crack. There he stood, with rain trailing down the brim of his gray Stetson. He wore a black V-neck T-shirt that, soaked with rain, outlined every one of his mass of muscles. “Tell me to leave and I will. I’ll leave you alone. You have my word. Agree to have dinner with me and we can go anywhere you like.”
As he stood there, with rain dripping from his tall, muscled physique, all of her willpower—and good sense—took a hike.
“Only if we stay here,” she’d said. “We have to stay inside.”
His face had broken into a wide smile—the same one that had seduced her willingly by the third night. And then less than two months later he’d proposed.
Tears sprang to her eyes at the memories. Walking away from Mitch Kent had been one of the most difficult things she’d ever done.
And setting foot in the house they’d once shared was going to be right up there.
MITCH RUBBED BLURRY eyes as he heard a noise come from another room for the second time. He glanced at the clock as he muttered a curse. The twins shouldn’t be up for another few hours.
In a past life, he would’ve slept right through the small creak. Having babies had trained him to jump at the first noise. If he entered the room fast enough, sometimes he could solve the problem before the other woke up. Let it go even for a few seconds, and he’d be dealing with two fussy babies and not enough arms to hold them both. Joyce had volunteered to move into the guest room half a dozen times, but Mitch had refused every request. Her heart was in the right place; she wanted to make his life easier. But Kimberly wouldn’t have wanted it that way. She might’ve agreed to receiving Joyce’s help during the day, but she wouldn’t want another person taking care of their babies overnight.
Another creak sounded and he was awake enough to hear it clearly now.
He threw off the covers and slid into the jeans on the chair next to his bed. This noise in the next room had nothing to do with the twins.
Was someone inside his house?
His hardwood floors creaked in exactly three places in the hallway. The first two had already made noise.
And now came the third. His adrenaline surged, flooding his body with heat.
Someone was walking toward his bedroom.
The twins’ room was across the hall and a fleeting thought struck that someone was coming for them. But who could that be? And how in the hell did the person get past ranch security?
It took a minute for that to sink in.
Another thought struck that it could be one of his family members, but that couldn’t be right, either. His brothers and sister would’ve called if there’d been an emergency. There was no way his cousins, Zach and Amy, would show in the middle of the night without calling. Those would be the only people who could get past security.
Mitch double-checked his cell in case he’d silenced his phone instead of switching it to vibrate. He thought about the heifer, and for a split second he thought the butchering might’ve been a warning.
The doorknob turned, so he jumped into action. Whoever thought they were going to get the best of him had another thing coming.
In two seconds he stood next to the door. It opened toward him, so it would shield him as the intruder stepped inside.
This probably wasn’t the time to realize his shotgun was locked in a gun cabinet, a precaution he took for the sake of his children. Even if he could get to it, it wouldn’t do any good. The shells were locked in a drawer.
As the door eased open, Mitch held his breath. He had his physical size, athletic conditioning and the element of surprise on his side, and that was about it. He had no idea what could be pushing through on the other side of that door.
In that moment he regretted not arming the alarm. He’d put one in, based on his wife’s insistence, but never used it now that she was gone.
Another few seconds and he’d be ready to grab whoever crossed that threshold. And he hoped like hell it was only one person.
Mitch flexed and released his fingers. He was ready.
A smallish—at least in comparison to his size—figure slipped inside. He took a step toward the intruder and grabbed whatever he could, wrapping his hands around the person’s upper arms. The intruder seemed familiar but he dismissed the thought.
Until the person kicked where no man wanted a foot and he gulped for air. The intruder put their hands on top of his and then dropped to the floor, breaking his grip. This person had skills.
“Stop it and I won’t hurt you,” he warned through sharp intakes of air. He was still trying to regain his footing after taking a hit to the groin.
Before the intruder could scoot away completely, he had a fistful of shirt material. He took another knee in the same spot, ignoring the pain shooting up his abdomen and causing his gut to clench.
Fists flew at him until he wrangled the stranger’s arms under control, but in pulling him or her close he ushered in a scent—lilies—and froze.
The intruder scooted out from underneath him.
“Whatever you do, don’t turn on the light,” the familiar voice warned through gasps.
“Who are you?” he asked but he already knew the answer—an answer that was a throat punch.
“It’s me. Kimberly.”
Chapter Four (#u8a2678ba-1ad0-5002-bd7a-d59d385ca9bb)
Kimberly needed to find the right words to get her husba—Mitch motivated to get out of the house and Jacobstown until she was certain the men who’d found her had moved on. Thinking about him in terms of being her husband only crushed her heart more.
Instead she stood there, mute.
“My wife is dead,” Mitch said out loud. His angry tone came off like he said the words more for himself than for her benefit. Either way, they scored a direct hit. Guilt was another punch.
All she could think to do was back away from him, slip past him and dart into the twins’ nursery across the hall. She didn’t flip on the light because her eyes had long ago adjusted to the darkness and she didn’t want to wake the babies yet.
She knew that he followed her based on the tension she felt radiating from behind her.
Mitch’s hand gripped her arm as she started toward the set of cribs nestled against the wall. Her heart nearly burst at the thought she would actually get to see them again. Hold them?
“Stop right there.” Mitch’s voice came out in a growl.
Reality slapped her in the face. He was about to kick her out. She jerked her arm out of his grasp and whirled around on him.
“I know what this must look like but trust me when I say you and the babies are in danger,” she said in barely more than a whisper. “If we don’t get out of here right now, a pair of men will show up. And that’ll be bad news for everyone.”
He stood there and stared at her like he was facing down a ghost. And he was. At least in his mind.
Mitch stilled and she could tell that she was getting through to him. Angry or not, he’d always been reasonable. Even though she could tell his armor was up and she’d never truly be able to break through it again, he considered what she was saying.
“Where have you been?” he finally ground out.
“Around.” As far as answers went, it was awful. But it was also true. And there was no way she was telling him her locations. It would be too easy for him to predict where she went next.
Mitch stood in an athletic stance and crossed his arms over his solid bare chest.
“Why?” There was no sign of weakness in his voice when he asked the question. No sign of long nights without her. No sign of the hurt he must’ve felt. His tone was steady as steel now. He was steady as steel. The only thing that could melt steel was a temperature of 2,500 degrees Fahrenheit, and his glare felt at least that scorching.
He deserved an explanation. There was no time to go into details. She needed to get him to safety and then she could figure out the right words. Everything had careened out of control faster than an Indy driver staring down a wall after veering off course. The wall was coming. The crash was going to be devastating. The only question was how many of the pieces she could pick up afterward.
“Please say you’ll come with me and bring the babies,” she begged.
“You’re supposed to be dead. Explain to me why you’re alive and standing in front of me.” His arms crossed tighter over his chest and there was so much anger in his eyes.
“I can’t right now. But I promise—”
“Not good enough.” He stood there, being a stubborn mule.
“Mitch. Come on. Just listen to me,” she started, but he stopped her with a hand in the air.
Frustration seethed, pouring off him in waves.
“Forgive me, but I’ve been talking to a headstone for the past eleven months.”
Those words were daggers and robbed her of breath.
“I buried your memory and as much of you as I could along with it,” he continued, unblinking.
Wind blasted the window, rattling the casing. She jumped and sucked in a sharp breath. “We need to go now.”
“The kids need stability. Being here will give them that.” His lips thinned. “Give me one reason I should take it away from them.”
He wanted answers she couldn’t give. But asking him to trust herat this point would be a slap in the face.
Reluctantly, she moved into the hallway, knowing full well he’d follow. Waking the twins would create a commotion and her heart would break if she heard them cry. She also couldn’t risk them drawing attention or covering up the sound of someone breaking in. Words failed her and she wanted to scream. Panic gripped her like a vise, squeezing air from her lungs.
Mitch was so close on her heels, he almost ran into her when she stopped.
“People are after me and they’ll use you and the twins to draw me out. I shouldn’t have shown up at the doctor’s office today,” she admitted, both hands out in defense.
“That was you?” Recognition dawned with the admission but it didn’t help with his anger.
“I’m sorry, Mitch. I truly am. I made a mistake but I can’t change that now. You and the babies aren’t safe here.”
“Why not call the sheriff?” He shrugged. Suspicion laced his tone and she completely understood why he’d feel that way even though it hurt.
“Because in my case that will do more damage than good,” she admitted. The night-light plugged into the socket in the hallway cast a warm glow on his chiseled features. Again she stared into eyes of suspicion and disbelief.
“I don’t know what to tell you. Sounds like you got yourself into a mess of trouble.” His words came out clipped.
“It’s so much worse than that. I got you and the babies in a terrible fix. There’s no way out but to run. I need you to believe me, Mitch.” She stared into his eyes, which had hardened toward her. Was she even getting through? Based on his stern expression and closed-off stance, the answer was no.
This wasn’t the time to back down. “I’m serious, Mitch. Please come with me and I’ll explain everything once we’re out of danger. Trust me when I say men could show up anytime and they’ll outnumber you. They’ll bring weapons.” There were times when she felt like she would always be on the run. By the time she met Mitch, she’d been running for half a year. When the man who raised her had given her a throwaway phone and insisted she try to reach him only using the cell, she’d worried that he might be getting senile.
The first few calls had gone fine. As fine as they could be with him acting so strange. He’d mumbled about putting her in danger, but he never explained when she questioned him. She didn’t put too much stock into what he said. She knew full well that he was a decent man. She played along while she tried to figure out the next move. Counseling? Support group? Her thoughts moved to questions like was it safe for him to be behind a wheel? And was it okay for him to live on his own and continue to run his business? Her worries quickly shifted from thinking about taking his car keys away to realizing something was really wrong when he didn’t answer her calls. Days later, the deputy had found him. He’d drowned, which was highly unlikely for a man who never went near the water. And now the men who’d killed her father were after her.
But then again gloom had always followed Kimberly. Mitch had been a light against so much darkness. Falling for him had been so easy, so effortless. He was sunshine in a world that had become pitch-black.
It was selfish of her to want to hang on to the feeling of finally basking in the sun again, a feeling she hadn’t experienced in so long.
A well of resolve sprang inside her. Loving him was exactly the reason she needed to buck up and be strong right now. She’d put Mitch and the babies in danger. So she would get them out.
A flash of light followed by a crack of thunder split the night air.
“What do those men want from you?” he finally asked, and she realized he must’ve seen them earlier.
“They must’ve followed me to the plaza. I hadn’t seen them in a few days, so I thought I was in the clear. I’m sure they saw my reaction to you and put two and two together because they disappeared when I was so close. They’ve never done that before,” she admitted.
“They won’t get past security on the ranch. They don’t know the place like you do,” he started and then paused. A strange look crossed his features.
“What? What is it?”
“A heifer’s hoof was cut off, butchered. Any chance your men would do something like that?” he asked, and it was a genuine question.
“Like a warning?” She was already shaking her head. “No. They’d use you or the babies to draw me out. You wouldn’t see them coming.”
Mitch stood there, all fire and frustration. More signs she was making progress with him.
“It also proves someone can get past security,” she added for good measure.
When he didn’t argue, she realized she was getting closer to his agreeing to cooperate.
“I promise this will all make sense soon. Just please come with me. I don’t know how much time we have before they get here,” she stated as plainly as she could. Seeing the man she would always love stirred up so many emotions inside her once again. Emotions she needed to keep in check for the sake of everyone she loved. In another time and place, the two of them could have shared something very special, very real.
Where was the reboot button when it came to life?
“LOOK. I DON’T know what you have going on or what game you’re playing but your problems are not my problems anymore. That all stopped when you walked out on us,” Mitch said through clenched teeth. For a split second he thought maybe his wife had been in a crash and survived but lost her memory or her mind.
All hope was decimated when he heard her speak. She knew who he was. She knew that they had children together, children she hadn’t once thought to check on in the last year. Those were her choices. This woman’s mind was as clear as water in a mason jar.
So he stood there, examining her. Anger boiled inside him at the fact that she stood in his home without an apology for what she’d put their children through by making them live the first year of their lives without a mother.
“My wife is buried on the west lawn at the entrance to her favorite place on the ranch, the meadow,” he ground out, trying and failing to keep his voice at a whisper. He refused to believe that the woman he’d fallen in love with could be so heartless.
His words were intended to deliver a physical blow.
“I—I’m sorry for that, Mi—”
“Don’t apologize to me. I got exactly what I deserved. But they didn’t.” He nodded toward the babies’ room. “Those two didn’t do anything wrong.”
Kimberly stood there, her gaze scanning the area. She looked scared and a little bit angry. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, she also had that protective-mother look. The one that said nothing and no one would hurt her babies. And he couldn’t ignore what she’d said. Someone had slipped past security and butchered one of his animals on his watch. Could they get to the babies, too?
Determination radiated off her five-foot-six-inch frame. Standing there, she was just as beautiful as he remembered. Dozens of times she’d slipped into his dreams. He’d imagine her right there next to him in bed. Or bounding through the house with that energy and light only she had.
Never once did he envision she’d return in the middle of the night with a warning. There were scenarios that had crossed his mind. The loss-of-memory one had always been prominent. Maybe because that would explain her leaving him behind, with his heart stomped on.
His dead wife standing in his hallway in the middle of the night, trying to convince him to go somewhere with him before she explained what the hell was going on, wasn’t exactly topping the list of scenarios in which he’d dreamed of seeing her again.
“Please, Mitch. I know I don’t deserve your trust. But believe it or not I’m here to help not hurt anyone,” she pleaded one more time.
“You can’t hurt me anymore. I don’t care what happens to you.” The words escaped before he could reel them in. It wasn’t true. He did care for his kids’ sake. They needed a mother. But what kind of mother disappeared? Or worse—faked her death? “Why’d you do it, Kimberly?”
“There was a reason I was so private and never wanted to be photographed or interviewed the entire time we were married, a good reason. Did you ever once think that there could’ve been another reason besides the flimsy excuses I gave that I just didn’t like having my picture taken or that I was just a homebody?”
“What reason did I have to question you? Until today I had no idea what you were capable of. I still don’t know who you are.” The words had the effect he’d intended—sharp and direct—even though a twinge of guilt tried to worm its way into his heart. Mitch slammed the door on that emotion. He had nothing to feel guilty about. He wasn’t the one who’d abandoned their family.
“I understand if you hate me but everything I did was out of love.” She seemed to choke back a sob as determination set her features. “No one, not even you, can call me a bad mother. I put my children first.”
“Here’s a question...” Anger was rising like a volcano that was minutes from erupting. “Why have kids in the first place if you didn’t want them?”
“Is that what you think?” Her strong facade was cracking deeper. Anger shot from her eyes, which he could see clearly now in the soft light of the hallway. She looked like she was about to spew a few choice words at him but then she must’ve thought twice because she blew out a breath and let her shoulders sag. Kimberly had never looked so defeated. But he meant what he said. He couldn’t possibly have truly known her if she was capable of—what? Faking her own death? Ditching their family? Walking out on him without so much as a word?
“I cared.”
“Actions are more important than empty words,” he stated. She wasn’t getting off this easily.
Another gust of wind blasted against the kids’ window, and Kimberly looked like she was ready to jump out of her skin. It was clear to him that something had her spooked, but without any real answers—and she’d been dodging his questions so far—he couldn’t make a decent decision. And then there were the men who had been after her earlier. He’d noticed their intent and it had brought out his protective instincts before he’d confirmed she was his supposedly dead wife.
Yet going with her on a whim seemed extreme.
“Tell me why you’re running and who’s after you.” He decided to play along. During the time they had been together, he’d never picked up on a hint of her losing touch with reality. No matter what else he felt about her, he knew she wasn’t the type for drugs or alcohol. So if she was sane and not under the influence of any substance, he probably should at least hear her out. His heart clenched at the sight of her, and being this close without answers or explanations caused his fists to tighten.
“I can’t.” Her gaze darted around like she expected someone to blast through a wall or window at any second.
“Why are you really here?” he asked. Surely it wasn’t to save him and the twins from some unknown threat. That would mean she cared.
“I already said.” She could be stubborn. He’d believed it to be sexy before. And, hell, it was now, too. Even though nothing in him wanted it to be.
“Are you sure this doesn’t have anything to do with the heifer we found near the base of Rushing Creek?”
“No. These men wouldn’t touch your livestock.”
“Tell me who’s after you.” Maybe he could put the pieces together to see if there was a connection. Or maybe she could tell him something that would make the killing make sense.
“I can’t.” A look of something—such as frustration or fear—marred her beautiful features.
“Well, then we don’t have anything else to talk about.” He faced her down, not budging an inch.
“I leave here and they’ll show.” She glanced at the wrist on which she used to wear a watch, but there was nothing there. “It’ll happen and you won’t be prepared.”
“You’re not giving me anything to work with. I can’t evaluate a threat if I don’t know what it is.” No way was he softening his stance. Of course he’d do anything to protect the little ones in the next room. And after her visit he planned to take extra precaution. But he wasn’t convinced that leaving the ranch was in the twins’ best interest.
“I’m being honest. I can’t tell you who’s after me or why,” she said on a sharp sigh. It was more than she’d planned to say. He could tell by her tense body language.
“How do you know someone’s targeting you then?”
“It has to do with Randy Bristol, my foster father, but that’s all I know.” Thunder clapped and it got her feet moving into the babies’ room again. “I know you wouldn’t put either of these two in harm’s way, Mitch. Believe me when I say trouble is coming your way whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. That part’s up to you, but I can’t let them get to my babies.”
“You lost rights to these two when you died,” he fired back.
“It’s pretty plain to see that I’m still here,” she said.
“Not in the court’s eyes,” he shot back.
“Try and stop me,” she dared to say.
“Take another step toward those cribs and I’ll do just that. Then I’ll call Zach.” He referred to his cousin, the sheriff, to rattle her. “He’ll arrest you, which is something you said you can’t afford.”
She issued a sharp grunt but stopped. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”
“Try me.”
Chapter Five (#u8a2678ba-1ad0-5002-bd7a-d59d385ca9bb)
Kimberly stared at Mitch. His set jaw and narrowed gaze challenged her. Her back was against the wall, because that look said he wasn’t going anywhere until she confessed. The only progress she’d made so far was the fact that he was listening to her.
“Someone is trying to get rid of me. This is somehow related to my foster father, but I don’t know how or why. He warned me, sort of cryptically right before he supposedly drowned but was really killed, and then the deputy who interviewed me strongly insinuated that I benefited the most from his death. That night someone came after me directly,” Kimberly admitted, and it was like a huge weight lifted off her by being able to say those words out loud.
He looked at her like she was crazy. She couldn’t exactly blame him.
“I never knew you were in the system.” He paused a minute as though to let his brain click puzzle pieces into place. “You said your parents died when you were a teenager, and you had to spend high school living with a sick aunt who’d since passed away.”
She shot him a look. “I’m sorry that I lied before. He is the only father I’ve known. It wouldn’t have helped if I’d told you the truth.”
“How can you say that?” he shot back. “It seems to me that it matters a whole helluva lot that I had no idea who my wife really was and now my life is in danger.”
How stupid had she been to think she could pull off a marriage and family when the creeps were never far behind? Granted she hadn’t known she was marrying one of the wealthiest and most eligible bachelors in Texas at the time. His downplayed clothing, calloused hands and rugged good looks made him seem like a salt-of-the-earth type, a cowboy and not a wealthy ranch owner.
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