Shattered
Shattered
Joan Johnston
Nine years ago Kate Grayhawk Pendelton walked into Wyatt Shaw's life–and out of it the next morning. Now Wyatt's back–and has the power to shatter Kate's future with the man she loves.By reputation, Wyatt Shaw is a brutal killer who always gets what he wants. And he wants Kate and her twin eight-year-old sons.Texas Ranger Jack McKinley is hot on Wyatt Shaw's trail. The presumed heir to the D'Amato crime syndicate is threatening to steal the woman he loves.Holly McKinley is fighting to keep Jack from leaving her for another woman. Now the secret she's kept for over twenty years may save their son's life, and cost her the only man she's ever loved.
Praise for the novels Joan Johnston
“Johnston’s characters struggle against seriously deranged foes and face seemingly insurmountable obstacles to true love.”
—Booklist
“Johnston warms your heart and tickles your fancy.”
—New York Daily News
“Complex and suspenseful.”
—RT Book Reviews on A Stranger’s Game
“Johnston rivets the reader.”
—Bookreporter.com
“Timely subject matter, strong plotting, and a quick pace.”
—RT Book Reviews on Outcast
“Romance devotees will find Johnston lively and well-written, and her characters perfectly enchanting.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Joan Johnston continually gives us everything we want…a story that you wish would never end, and lots of tension and sensuality.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Joan Johnston [creates] unforgettable subplots and characters who make every fine thread weave into a touching tapestry.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“A guaranteed good read.”
—New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham
Shattered
A Bitter Creek Novel
Joan Johnston
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
Great editors are a precious gift.
This book is dedicated to my editor,
Linda McFall.
Contents
Prologue (#u15d66904-0641-558d-9497-581a2ee4c40b)
Chapter 1 (#u1c9d9ca3-0caf-5104-abfc-085e21af3b05)
Chapter 2 (#u09a96568-84cf-5ef3-a3b9-1f61cde93ab3)
Chapter 3 (#ud9df3c92-6afa-5114-8d30-d461894f8288)
Chapter 4 (#u2797a4de-1299-572c-83d0-f0a1582ca718)
Chapter 5 (#u6fc40e2a-ce56-53d4-bf6b-c06d8e85cb74)
Chapter 6 (#u3e8dd49d-6231-5192-9c64-a24c1e11080d)
Chapter 7 (#uea8443ae-9457-5c15-a7e4-4c55312794ea)
Chapter 8 (#uf0d029a3-1f53-5f39-9781-37a40858e6c9)
Chapter 9 (#ufc7bc7ad-ca30-56c9-8ec1-a6a003f84683)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 41 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 42 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 43 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 44 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 45 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 46 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgments (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
“What else have you lied about?”
Kate Grayhawk Pendleton wished she could simply walk away from the imposing older woman dressed in a black St. John knit suit and Chanel tuxedo heels standing across from her. Unfortunately, she was still bedridden after waking a week before from a fourmonth-long coma.
She readjusted the pillows behind her on the hospital bed, then tugged awkwardly at her cotton hospital gown. She needed time to decide how she was going to answer the angry question posed by her mother-in-law, Texas governor and presidential hopeful Ann Wade Pendleton.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kate said warily.
“I’m asking who you bedded down with after you married my son. I’m asking who got you pregnant, because it sure as hell wasn’t J.D.”
“What makes you say such a thing?” Kate replied. “Lucky and Chance—”
“Are somebody else’s brats. Don’t bother lying. While you were in that coma, Lucky injured himself on a broken window and needed a transfusion. The twins’ blood type proves they aren’t my son’s children.”
Kate blanched. She’d kept her secret for nine long years. She hadn’t told a single soul that her eightyear-old twin sons, Lucky and Chance, had been conceived with a man who was not her husband.
“If I’m going to get myself chosen by the party as the next Republican presidential nominee, I need to know what bats might come flying out of the belfry,” Ann Wade said, her voice as sharp and cold as ice. “I can’t afford to have some cretin come forward in the middle of my campaign and name himself as the father of my grandsons.”
Kate realized that Ann Wade wasn’t upset that she’d cheated on her husband. Wasn’t even upset that her grandsons possessed none of her blood. What had made Ann Wade so furious was the fear that Kate’s misstep might interfere with her political career.
Kate felt sick to her stomach.
She’d allied herself with the Pendleton family as a nineteen-year-old, still wincing from the stunning rejection she’d received from the man she really loved, Texas Ranger Jack McKinley. When Jack had married his high school sweetheart, J.D.’s admiration had been a balm for her wounded soul.
She’d looked at J.D. Pendleton with stars in her eyes. What she’d seen was a University of Texas football hero with wavy blond hair and striking blue eyes.
She hadn’t known J.D. was a man without honor, a spoiled child of privilege, who would cheat on her within a month of their wedding. Hadn’t known she was marrying a man who would fake his own death, desert his military post and flee to South America after blackmailing his own mother.
Kate pictured the twins’ biological father in her mind’s eye, a tall, rangy man with silver-streaked black hair and steel-gray eyes. Remembered exactly how and why she’d gone to bed with him.
She felt her face flush anew with the hurt and humiliation she’d felt on that long-ago night when she’d caught her husband in their hotel room with another woman in flagrante delicto and he’d told her, “Get the fuck out! Can’t you see I’m busy?”
In a daze, her chest aching, she’d taken the elevator downstairs to the bar at the Austin, Texas, Four Seasons. She’d walked up to a perfect stranger, taken his large hand in hers and said, “Come with me.” She’d led him to the registration desk and said, “We need a room.”
He’d supplied his black American Express card and took the key card the pretty desk clerk handed him. As they’d walked away he’d asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
He’d been gentle and tender, more so than J.D. ever had. She’d been embittered and impassioned. The sex had been excoriating. She’d cried for half an hour in his arms afterward as he smoothed her long black hair behind her ears and kissed her forehead.
She’d had to live the past nine years with the consequences of her rash act of defiance. She’d never told her lover that he’d become a father that night. It wasn’t until she’d seen him on Channel 12 News that she’d realized who he was. And the horror that might haunt them all if the truth were ever known.
Kate felt her insides go cold. What if Ann Wade hired a private detective? The stranger had used a credit card to pay for the hotel room they’d used. Could it still be traced after all these years? The twins’ father might be exposed. The scandal would be enormous and devastating to her children, to her mother-in-law and to Jack McKinley, the man she had never stopped loving.
Finding the stranger she’d slept with wouldn’t be easy. Predicting his response to the knowledge he had two sons was even more difficult. And terrifying. Kate took the safe course, the only course she knew would keep her sons safe from harm. She looked her mother-in-law right in the eye and lied.
“I have no idea who the twins’ father is. He was someone I met in a bar. I can’t even remember what he looked like. You’d be wasting your time looking, because I doubt he can be found.”
Ann Wade arched a perfect brow. “I guess we’ll see about that.”
1
“Why are you here?”
Private Investigator Harry Dickenson felt a shiver roll down his spine at the sound of Wyatt Shaw’s quiet, raspy voice. Shaw stared at him from ruthless gray eyes, his lean, powerful body coiled behind a stone-and-glass desk, like a silent predator stalking unsuspecting prey.
Harry wondered if the rumors he’d heard were true. Was he alone with a brutal killer? Someone who’d, literally, gotten away with murder?
Harry’s blood felt like ice in his veins, despite the heat of the April sun streaming through a wall of windows. He was standing on the top floor of the newest, and by far grandest, Shaw Tower, a combination hotel, condominium and office building in downtown Houston, Texas. From his vertigo-inducing perch, Harry could see the far-reaching geographic boundaries of the city, nearly forty miles away.
It was hard to believe how much of that real estate was controlled by the indecently wealthy man sitting before him. Was it so wrong to want a little piece of that pie for himself? This was Harry’s first venture into extortion, and he was a little nervous. But he was certain Shaw would pay—and pay well—to learn the tantalizing secret he’d come here to sell.
Harry tried to meet Shaw’s piercing gaze as he made his demand for cash, but he couldn’t quite raise his eyes that last six inches. He focused instead on the crisp collar of Shaw’s white shirt, the smooth knot of his patterned blue silk tie and the lapels of his dark blue blended wool suit, as he said, “I have information of vital interest to you.”
“I’m listening,” Shaw said.
Harry saw a flicker of movement over his shoulder and realized they were no longer alone in Shaw’s office on the Tower’s 80th floor. He started as a man two or three inches taller than Wyatt’s reputed 6'4", and maybe fifty pounds heavier, stepped into his line of sight.
“You wanted me, Boss?” the man said, speaking to Shaw as though Harry wasn’t there.
Harry wondered how the gargantuan man in a cheap brown suit—who reminded him of the enforcers he’d seen in Mafia movies—had been summoned and realized Shaw must have hit some button on his desk. He thought back to the female secretary in the outer office. The older, benign-looking lady in a skirt that fell two inches below her knees and sensible pumps had made him feel perfectly safe coming into what he could now see was a cage of steel and glass from which there was no escape.
Harry licked at the sweat above his lip, recognized it for the anxious gesture it was and stiffened his spine. He was the best at what he did precisely because he didn’t allow himself to be intimidated.
Nevertheless, he felt his bowels shift in an instinctive animal response to mortal danger.
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Shaw said to the big man he’d summoned. Then he fixed his steely gaze on Harry. “You were saying?”
Harry watched as the big man guarding the door, who had an ugly scar on his cheek and a crooked, manytimes-broken nose, took a pose that reminded him of a military man “at ease,” his meaty hands behind his back, his tree-trunk legs spread wide. The enforcer’s dark eyes, under heavy black brows, stayed focused on Harry as though he were some lower form of life, a bug this big man would like to squash.
Harry mentally shook his head. He was anticipating trouble where there might be none. Shaw had done nothing overtly threatening. It was the information Harry had dug up on the man sitting across from him that was scaring him shitless.
Harry fought the urge to turn tail and run. He chided himself again for letting his imagination run wild. Surely Shaw would be grateful to hear what Harry had discovered, even if he was also shocked by the revelation.
“I want your agreement to pay before I tell you what I know.”
Harry waited for Shaw to ask what it was or how much he wanted or refuse to pay or say something that would give him an idea where to go from there. He’d never suspected, when Governor Pendleton had hired him to hunt down the biological father of her daughter-in-law’s twin sons, that his search would lead him to this enigmatic man.
He’d brought a picture of Lucky and Chance, in case Shaw asked to see them. The boys had blue eyes and black hair like their mother, Kate Pendleton. And were long and lanky, with square chins, strong noses and high cheekbones like their father, Wyatt Shaw.
Harry hadn’t believed his luck when he’d finally stumbled on the truth. The governor had mentioned a reunion her son and Kate had attended in Austin at the Four Seasons. The trip would have been around the time of the twins’ conception, nine years ago. Shaw hadn’t been as well-known then, but the brand-new receptionist at the hotel, who’d taken his American Express card at the Austin, Texas, Four Seasons that fateful night, had become the current manager of the hotel.
The incident had remained fixed in her mind because it was the first of the new Centurion Cards—a black AMEX card with supposedly unlimited credit—she’d ever seen, and it had been handed to her by an extraordinarily good-looking young man with silver wings in his black hair.
The manager told him that when she’d recognized Wyatt Shaw with his infamous father on TV less than a year later, she’d marveled at how close she’d come to flirting with a dangerous criminal. She’d admitted to being jealous, that long-ago evening, of the strikingly beautiful woman holding the handsome man’s hand.
And yes, she’d confirmed, the lady in the photo Harry had shown her was the same woman Wyatt Shaw had taken with him on the elevator to the penthouse suite he’d booked.
Harry had quickly realized he’d stumbled onto a gold mine. He could get paid again and again to keep his mouth shut about the information he’d discovered: Mob Boss Dante D’Amato’s bastard son, Wyatt Shaw, was the father of Texas Governor Ann Wade Pendleton’s grandsons.
Governor Pendleton, who’d hired him, would pay, of course. He could also sell his willing silence to the twins’ very wealthy great-grandfathers, who’d probably fork over a hunk of money to keep the world from knowing who their granddaughter had screwed while she’d been married to another man.
Jackson Blackthorne, Kate Pendleton’s paternal grandfather, owned a ranch the size of Vermont in South Texas called Bitter Creek. Kate’s maternal grandfather, King Grayhawk, owned an equally impressive ranch called Kingdom Come in Wyoming, where he served as that state’s governor. The two men were lifelong enemies, a fact Harry was sure he could use to his advantage.
The mind boggled at what the tabloids might pay for such juicy gossip.
In the end, Harry had decided that the man who stood to gain the most—the knowledge that he had eight-year-old twin sons—was the man who’d be willing to pay the most. So even before he told Governor Pendleton what he knew, or approached either of Kate’s influential grandfathers, or phoned the first tabloid magazine, he’d come here to confront Shaw.
Considering the menacing man standing just inside the door, and the even more dangerous one sitting behind the desk, Harry knew he was walking a tightrope over an abyss.
Greed gave him the courage to take the next step.
Harry glanced at the hulking figure by the door, and said, “I want half a million.”
The demand was met by silence.
Harry struggled not to fidget while he waited for Shaw to speak. He’d thought long and hard about how much he could ask Shaw to pay. He’d dreamed of a million, but realized if he got half of that, with what he’d already saved, he could buy a small fishing boat and a condo on the gulf near Corpus Christi and be set for the rest of his life. With a net worth over half a billion, half a million was a drop in the bucket for Shaw.
“I’m sure whatever it is you think you know isn’t worth that kind of money,” Shaw replied at last.
“This information has nothing to do with your…uh…business activities.” Harry had nearly said illegal business activities. The U.S. Justice Department had been unable to prove Shaw had ill-gotten gains under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations (RICO) Act, although they’d taken him to court at least once to try. And the Houston cops hadn’t yet found enough evidence—despite the woman found strangled in Shaw’s bed six weeks ago—to charge him with murder.
Wyatt Shaw seemed to walk between raindrops.
But Harry knew the rich man’s life hadn’t always been so blessed.
His mother had been Dante D’Amato’s mistress until her death, under suspicious circumstances, when Shaw was twelve. The child born on the wrong side of the blanket, so to speak, had succeeded so spectacularly that the government—read FBI—refused to believe he’d done it without help from the mob.
Harry was pretty sure the Feds monitored every dollar in and out of Shaw’s many business activities, looking for enough evidence to bring down his empire. Which only convinced Harry that Shaw would know how to pay him the half mil without raising any red flags for the IRS.
“Has to be a woman,” Shaw said in disgust. “What is she claiming?”
Harry had expected the dismissive look on Shaw’s face. The man had never been married and didn’t have a steady girlfriend, though there was no shortage of women in his life. Harry had discovered from a lady lawyer Shaw briefly dated that he always took precautions to ensure there was no unwanted child.
Which made Harry wonder if the dead woman found in Shaw’s penthouse suite might have been pregnant. And trying to extort money from Shaw. As he was.
Harry shuddered. The medical examiner’s report on the murder victim hadn’t been released to the public yet, and Harry’s usual connection in the M.E.’s office had been too spooked to leak it to him. Which meant anything was possible.
Harry’s investigation also revealed that Shaw usually bedded his dates in his—now infamous—penthouse at the Shaw Tower, or an equivalent locale. Not one of them had been to his personal retreat, a ranch compound north of Houston.
Ancient live oaks, which never completely shed their leaves, kept the structures within Shaw’s compound hidden from Google Earth. But from county records, Harry knew Shaw had built a modest, four-bedroom home, stables large enough to hold a dozen sleek quarter horses and on-site housing, a sort of bunkhouse, for his security team. To guarantee his privacy, Shaw had surrounded the compound with eight-foot-high river-rock walls.
His isolated compound—and his isolated lifestyle—made a powerful statement: Shaw lived a life without strings, a life without human connections. So Harry expected him to resist the idea that he had twin sons, maybe even to dismiss Harry’s suggestion as ridiculous.
Luckily, Harry had proof. DNA results made it 99.9 percent certain that Shaw was the twins’ father.
“Who sent you here?” Shaw asked.
“I want your promise to pay before I say anything more.”
“You’d take my word?” Shaw said cynically, lifting a brow.
Harry shrugged. “You have a reputation for sticking by it in business deals.” Which this was. Sort of.
“Bruce, escort this man from the premises.”
“Wait!” Harry reached into his jacket and found his wrist handcuffed by Bruce’s gigantic hand. How had the big man moved so fast? “I don’t have a weapon,” Harry babbled, afraid the monster was going to crush his bones. “There are papers in my jacket. And a photo.”
“Let him go,” Shaw said.
With a shaking hand, Harry pulled out the papers he’d been reaching for, which had been folded in his suit coat pocket. They rustled as he unfolded them and took the few steps forward to lay them on Shaw’s desk.
Shaw spread the papers apart and stared at them, his brow furrowed. “This looks like—”
“It’s the results of a DNA test,” Harry interrupted. “You can see that the first chart matches the second two almost exactly.”
“The second two?”
“You have twin eight-year-old sons,” Harry blurted.
Shaw’s brows arrowed down and his lips pressed flat.
Harry was afraid to breathe, waiting for Shaw to deny paternity despite the DNA results. He expected the businessman to ask how Harry had gotten his DNA. It had been easy, since the man ate most of his meals in restaurants. A fork he’d eaten from, a glass he’d drunk from, was all Harry had needed.
Instead, Shaw said, “Who’s the mother?”
Harry licked his lips. “Half a million.”
Shaw nodded curtly.
“Her name is Kate Grayhawk Pendleton. She’s the governor’s daughter-in-law. She lives in San Antonio.” He laid a 4"x6" photograph beside the DNA results on the table. It showed the smiling mother standing between her identical grinning sons, one slender arm resting on each boy’s narrow shoulder.
Harry watched several emotions flicker in Wyatt Shaw’s narrowed gaze, none of which were pleasant. The expected shock. Anger. Disgust. And then, a great deal more anger.
“Her husband?” Shaw asked.
“She was widowed eighteen months ago. Her husband died serving in Afghanistan.”
Harry was glad for the husband’s sake that he was dead. And he wouldn’t have wanted to be in the woman’s shoes when Shaw caught up to her. For half a million, he figured he owed Shaw a heads-up on the woman’s current situation. After all, the businessman had been back and forth to China a dozen times over the past six months and might not have kept up with the local news.
“Mrs. Pendleton was shot last October by that assassin trying to kill the governor. She was in a coma for four months and spent about six weeks in a rehab facility. She seems to have come out of it just fine. She went home ten days ago.”
“Tell my secretary where you want the money wired,” Shaw said through tight jaws.
Harry couldn’t believe it had been that easy. Couldn’t believe Shaw was actually going to pay.
Then he saw Shaw’s glance slide to Bruce, watched his chin drop the littlest bit, sending some kind of message to the big man. Harry felt the sudden urge to run. For a moment he was frozen, like a frightened rabbit, panting for breath.
Then he made his move.
His eyes darted from Shaw to the big man as he hurriedly backed his way out of the office, leaving the test results and the photograph on the glass in front of Shaw, letting the heavy wooden door slide silently closed behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, alarmed to see Bruce pass through the same door a few seconds later.
Harry paused at the secretary’s desk long enough to say, “I’ll give you a call and let you know where to wire the money.”
She didn’t ask “What money?” She must be used to business deals made on a handshake. Or in this case, a chin nod.
Harry hustled to the elevator, pushed the button and was relieved when the doors opened as though the elevator always waited on the 80th floor for Shaw. He stepped inside and pushed the button for the ground floor.
He felt his breath catch when he realized Bruce was headed for the same elevator. He stabbed the “Door Close” button several times. And breathed a sigh of relief when it began to close.
Several thick-knuckled fingers appeared between the nearly closed doors and they opened again. Bruce got on the elevator with Harry and stood facing the door, his hefty arms crossed over his substantial girth.
Harry felt his heartbeat ratchet up, felt the blood pound in his temples, and realized he hadn’t taken his blood pressure meds that morning. Hell, hadn’t taken them for a couple of days. He tried to calm himself, afraid he was going to have a heart attack. Or stroke out.
The elevator didn’t stop once on the way down, even though Harry prayed that it would pick up another passenger. It raced past thirty floors of offices, twenty-four floors of condominiums, twenty-one floors of hotel rooms (no thirteenth floor), the third floor hotel lobby, and the second floor boutiques, never once stopping.
He should have known Shaw would have a private express elevator. He managed not to pant, but he was having trouble catching his breath. He told himself he was being stupid. Big Bruce here hadn’t made a move toward him. In a few moments the elevator doors would open and he’d be safe.
Maybe he’d buy that beachfront property somewhere out of the country. He was just realizing how much fallout there might be once the governor realized what he’d done. Not to mention the girl’s two grandfathers.
Harry was out of the elevator the instant it stopped on the ground floor. The two-story-high glass-walled space was empty except for a black-suited guard behind a black granite desk who kept out the riffraff. Harry hurried past him.
Behind him, he heard the guard tell Bruce, “The Boss told me to remind you to take care of that business quietly.”
Harry felt a spurt of terror so great he nearly fainted. He should have known better than to try and extort money from a man like Shaw. He pushed his way through the revolving door, squinting against the glare of the sun off the mirrored building across the street. If he could just get outside onto the sidewalk, he’d be okay. He could see it was crowded with people.
As he left Shaw Tower, a gust of hot wind blew grit from the street into his eyes. He swiped at his stinging eyes and realized his face was dripping with sweat. He looked down and saw he’d sweated all the way through his suit jacket under his armpits. What the hell? He squirmed as a bead of sweat slid down between his shoulder blades. Oh, shit. That was a symptom of heart attack, wasn’t it? Profuse sweat?
Harry nearly giggled with hysteria. He was scaring himself to death. He had to control his panic or he was going to do Big Bruce’s job for him. He forced himself to walk more slowly. He glanced over his shoulder long enough to see that Bruce was still following him.
Harry was determined to put the width of the street between himself and Shaw’s enforcer. He weaved his way across tacky, sun-heated asphalt, in between honking downtown traffic, almost running by the time he got to the other side of the street. He realized Bruce was no longer behind him. The big man was still walking along the opposite sidewalk.
Harry heaved a quiet sigh of relief. He was done with his brief life of crime. It was too damned stressful. He put a hand to his heart, which was finally slowing down. He glanced once more at Big Bruce. Now he was talking on a cell phone.
Harry reached the corner and stepped off the curb, his gaze riveted on Bruce.
He heard a scream from the sidewalk catty-corner from him. His head jerked toward the sound. Harry saw a young woman, her eyes wide with horror, her hand urgently pointing to his right—in the opposite direction from where he’d last seen Big Bruce. Harry yanked his head back around to see what had frightened her. Adrenaline pumped into his veins, making his heart hurt so bad he put a hand to his chest.
As close as the truck was, Harry could see the rust on the metal grille, which rose as high as his shoulder. The driver had obviously run the red. Harry calculated the time it would take to get out of the way. And realized he was fucked.
In the final seconds before disaster struck, Harry’s gaze shot over his shoulder to Bruce. The big man was pocketing his phone. Harry’s head whipped back around as he heard the screech of brakes. Then the garbage truck hit him and he went flying.
2
Kate was expecting Jack McKinley, so she answered the knock at her door with a smile on her face. Her heart skipped a frightened beat when she saw who was standing there.
“You look surprised to see me.”
Kate felt a visceral response deep in her womb as she stared into Wyatt Shaw’s steel-gray eyes. Without wanting to, she remembered Shaw as she’d left him in the middle of the night, asleep amid tangled sheets, dark lashes lying soft on sharp cheekbones, rough beard shading the rugged planes and hollows of his face.
“May I come in?”
His raspy voice raised gooseflesh on her arms. He’d used that mesmerizing voice to murmur his approval as she caressed his powerful body, measuring the breadth of his shoulders with her palms and teasing the whorls of black hair on his chest with her fingertips.
He stood quietly at her front door, patiently awaiting her invitation to come inside. All his attention was focused on her, as it had been that long-ago night.
She tried to speak, to send him away, but her heart was caught in her throat. He’d been patient that night, too, coaxing her compliance. She’d been heartsick, feeling unloved and unlovely, a rejected woman seeking revenge against her husband.
Kate closed her eyes to shut out the too-vivid memories, but in her mind’s eye she saw the soft play of light and shadow on his face above her and the fierce look of desire in his eyes. She had never felt more cherished. She had never felt more loved.
“Are you all right?”
She opened her eyes, but it didn’t help. She’d kept the memories at bay for long years, but now that the flesh-and-blood man stood before her, they rushed back with frightening clarity.
She remembered most the urgency of his need. And how it had healed the hurt. The heady feeling as she realized this man craved her body as a dying man craves water in the desert. The soothing balm of his raspy voice as he extolled the pleasure he found in the petal softness of her skin. The laughter that tumbled from her lips as she reveled in the power of knowing he couldn’t get his fill of her. That he could never get enough. That he would always want to touch her, taste her, love her.
She would never forget the satisfied masculine sound in his throat as he’d felt how wet and ready she was for him. At his urging, she’d wrapped her long legs around his whipcord lean hips as he moved inside her. In the throes of passion, she’d gripped handfuls of his thick black hair, running her fingers through the silver wings at his temples that had made her guess his age as much older than he was.
He’d been only twenty-nine.
Which made him thirty-eight.
Her glance skipped to his mouth. She remembered bowed lips that had been soft to the touch, his first kiss so tender it had made her throat ache with unshed tears. There were no signs of softness in him now. His lips were pressed flat and bracketed by deep grooves. His eyes, deep-set and gray, reminded her of thunderous storm clouds.
Shaw hadn’t moved a muscle, hadn’t moved a hair, but she felt the threat of his presence, the threat of…his desire for her.
He was wearing a Savile Row suit that should have made him look civilized. Instead, she saw the tension beneath the masterfully tailored cloth, the power in corded sinew and bone. She felt her nipples peak as his nostrils flared, inhaling the scent of her like a stag in rut. Felt the blood fill her nether lips as she stared into heavy-lidded eyes that told her how much he wanted—needed—to be inside her.
She had to remind herself who he was. Yes, this was the stranger with whom she’d spent the most passionate night of her life. But Wyatt Shaw was also the son of mob boss Dante D’Amato. And a suspected murderer.
Her gaze skipped down to his long-fingered hands. Those hands had caressed her with infinite tenderness. Had they also strangled the woman found naked in his bed? It had only been six weeks since the sensational story had hit the tabloids. Billionaire businessman Wyatt Shaw was accused of murdering a call girl in his suite on the top floor of Shaw Tower.
A call girl?
That gave their night together an entirely new complexion. Had Shaw thought she was a call girl, too? Had she left before he’d put his money on the bedside table? Was the magical night she remembered merely one more sexual encounter with a call girl for him? Had she been lucky that long-ago night to escape with her life?
Kate was afraid to look back up into Shaw’s eyes, afraid the question—the accusation—would be there in her own.
Her knees felt rubbery, and she stiffened them. She glanced beyond Wyatt’s shoulder, searching the street for Jack’s SUV, hoping he would stay away until she could get rid of this apparition from her past, this stranger who’d ruined her sleep for far too many nights over the past nine years.
Kate shuddered at the thought of Texas Ranger Jack McKinley confronting Wyatt Shaw with his gun drawn. She didn’t want Jack killing the father of her sons. Or Wyatt killing the man she loved.
“We need to talk,” Shaw said.
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
He lifted an arrogant brow that accused her of the terrible wrong she’d done him. But said nothing.
“You can’t have them.” Kate knew the instant the words came out of her mouth that she shouldn’t have spoken them.
“By them do you mean my sons?” he said, the sudden menace in his voice raising the hairs on her nape.
She tried to slam the door, but he was too fast for her. He simply caught the frame with his palm, waited until she let go, waited another moment until she stepped back, then strode inside and closed the wooden door with a quiet snick behind him.
She turned to face him in her tiny living room like a lioness defending her cubs, even though the twins were at school and wouldn’t be home for another hour. “You can’t have them. They’re mine.”
“And mine,” he said inexorably.
She could see that denial was futile. Somehow he’d found out the truth. “Who told you?”
“A private investigator hired by your mother-in-law.”
Kate groaned and lowered her face into her hands. She suddenly lifted her head and asked, “Does Ann Wade know?”
“I have no idea. The P.I. who contacted me was killed shortly after he left my office.”
Did you kill him? The words stuck in Kate’s throat. There was no sense asking, since he was unlikely to tell her if he had.
“When did you know the twins were mine?” he asked.
Kate felt a frisson of fear skitter down her spine. She had never been a good liar. The telltale pink blotches on her creamy skin always gave her away. But she was terrified of what the man standing in her living room might do if she told him she’d known within weeks of that fateful night that she’d gotten pregnant during their liaison.
The same day she’d gotten a positive result on a home pregnancy test, she’d seduced J.D., who’d gloated at how brief her sex boycott had been after she’d caught him in bed with another woman.
“You were a stranger I met in a bar,” she said to Shaw. “I didn’t know your name. I didn’t know how to contact you.”
“You didn’t answer the question,” he said, anger simmering in his eyes. “When did you know?”
“I couldn’t be sure my husband wasn’t the father,” she lied. And felt the sudden heat on her throat and cheeks.
His eyes narrowed. “It’s a simple question.”
Whenever she’d felt guilty over the years that she hadn’t sought out the stranger from the bar to tell him the truth, she’d reminded herself of the circumstances of their encounter. It was a night out of time.
She’d felt vindicated when she’d discovered who he was.
“What did you expect me to do when I found out I’d gotten pregnant while having sex with a perfect stranger?” A stranger accused of graft and corruption, of extortion and murder. And that was before a woman was found strangled to death in your bed.
His brows arrowed down at her admission that she’d known from the start what he’d just learned.
“You could have gone back to the hotel,” he said. “There were people there who knew me. You could have found me.”
“To what purpose?” she demanded. “I was married. For all I knew, you could have been married, too.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I didn’t know that. Besides, there was always the chance that my husband—”
“You’ve cheated me out of knowing my sons for eight years.”
Kate’s blue eyes flashed up at him. “I notice you never came looking for me!”
“I couldn’t find you. And not for want of trying.”
Kate was startled. He’d searched for her? Why? “Just because the sex was good—”
“The sex was fantastic. But that wasn’t why I came looking for you.”
Kate knew she’d regret asking, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Why, then?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now.”
Irritated by his reticence, she snapped, “So why are you here? What do you want?”
He met her gaze with annoying calm and said, “I want to meet my sons.”
“No.” Kate’s throat was tight with dread, but she forced herself to add, “They believe J.D.—my husband, who was killed serving in Afghanistan—was their father.”
“I don’t want my sons growing up without a father.”
As he had, Kate realized. The first time she’d seen Shaw on TV was the day he consoled Dante D’Amato on the steps of the federal courthouse in Houston after his two grown, legitimate sons had been killed by a car bomb. The mob boss was on trial for RICO-related offenses, and the reporter suggested that D’Amato’s sons had been murdered in an effort by underlings to wrench control of the mob from D’Amato’s powerful hands, in expectation that he would be convicted and go to prison.
When a roving TV reporter asked a grieving D’Amato who would take the roles in his business left vacant by his sons’ deaths, D’Amato slid his arm around Wyatt Shaw’s broad shoulders and said, “I have all the help I need right here.”
The news anchor at the station had explained that Shaw’s mother had been supported by D’Amato, who’d bought her a home in Houston, but they’d never been married. Thereby suggesting, without actually saying, that Wyatt Shaw was Dante D’Amato’s illegitimate son, and that he might be expected to take over the mob if his father was convicted.
The film clip that followed showed a grim-faced man with silver-winged black hair shoving his way through a crowd of reporters as he left the federal courthouse.
It was the man she’d picked up in the bar of the Four Seasons, a man passionate beyond her dreams and tender beyond belief.
Kate had blanched with horror at the discovery that she’d lain with a man who’d been accused, along with his mob boss father, of having business competitors maimed and murdered. She’d followed the trial on TV. Neither Shaw nor his father had been convicted. The witnesses had all recanted or disappeared.
The pictures Kate had seen in the tabloid newspapers of that poor strangled woman had put an end to her romantic fantasies about the stranger with whom she’d spent a precious night of lovemaking.
She’d viciously squelched the memories that arose whenever she compared that single night of passion to sex with J.D. She’d comforted herself with the knowledge that her husband might be a selfish lover and a womanizer, but at least he wasn’t a criminal.
Or so she’d thought.
“You don’t have to worry about Lucky and Chance growing up without a father,” she told Shaw. “I’m involved with someone. I love him very much, and we’re going to be married.” She was certain Jack wouldn’t mind if she stretched the truth in a good cause. They hadn’t discussed marriage yet, but she was sure it was only a matter of time before they did.
Jack’s divorce would be final within the next month. And J.D. was…no longer in the picture.
“Since I’m going to be married,” Kate began, “I—”
Shaw was already shaking his head. “No, you’re not.”
“You can’t stop me!”
“We both know your first husband isn’t dead. Which precludes your marriage to another man.”
Kate’s face blanched. “How could you possibly…? Why would you think…?”
“I’ve done some investigating of my own in the week since I discovered I’m a father. You can’t marry another man, because you’re still married to J.D. Pendleton, who isn’t buried in Arlington Cemetery after all. He’s alive and well and left the country for Brazil the day after you were shot.”
“J.D.’s in Brazil?” Her husband had threatened to kidnap her sons and take them to South America if she didn’t pay him a quarter of a million dollars to get out of her life, but she’d been shot before she could ask one of her grandfathers for the money. Although Kate was the daughter and granddaughter of wealthy men and women, J.D. had gambled away her personal trust fund within a few years after she’d gotten control of it when she turned twenty-five.
However, J.D.’s mother had given him $250,000 in “hush money” which he’d presumably used to disappear. The governor didn’t want the world to know her son was a live deserter, rather than a dead war hero.
Kate’s greatest fear, before Wyatt Shaw had shown up on her doorstep, was that J.D. would return, once again threatening to steal Lucky and Chance, and demanding money that she didn’t have to disappear. “Do you know where J.D. is now?” she asked.
“No. But there are dangerous men out there looking for him.”
“Dangerous men?” Kate asked, confused. Your men? she wondered.
“Your husband was trading military weapons for heroin in Afghanistan.”
Kate gasped. She’d known J.D. was in trouble. He’d hinted as much to her when he’d shown up in her kitchen last fall looking gaunt and ragged a year after she’d supposedly buried his remains. But she’d never suspected him of doing anything so awful. “How do you know that?”
Shaw ignored the question and continued, “Your husband blew up that ammo dump in Afghanistan—and faked his death—to avoid paying the consequences for skimming profits on the arms-for-heroin deals he was negotiating between parties here in the States and the Taliban. He absconded with twenty million dollars worth of heroin that didn’t belong to him.
“There are people who intend to find him, get back their product—or the cash he got for selling it—and make an object lesson of your husband.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“The bad guys are closing in on J.D.”
“How do you know all this?”
He lifted a dark brow as though the answer should be obvious, although it wasn’t to Kate. Did he know about J.D.’s situation because he, personally, was chasing him? Or was it some other criminal element with whom Shaw had close ties, like his father, Dante D’Amato?
“Suffice it to say, you and your—our—sons aren’t safe with your husband on the loose.”
Kate lifted her chin. “The man I’ve been seeing is a Texas Ranger. He’ll be happy to protect me.”
“Who’s that?”
Kate debated whether to tell him, then decided it was better not to bring Jack into this. “None of your business.”
Kate didn’t like the look in Shaw’s eyes. He had no right to be jealous. Or possessive. But she didn’t want to exacerbate the situation, so she said, “Nevertheless, this man is willing, and able, to keep an eye on me and my sons. His divorce will be final any day now and—”
“He’s planning to move in?”
Kate heard the challenge in Shaw’s gravelly voice, watched as his eyes narrowed and his hands formed into powerful fists. It seemed safest to say, “We haven’t planned that far ahead.”
She was still looking forward to making love to Jack for the first time. They’d been on the verge of consummating their relationship last fall—kissing in the hall, on the way to her bedroom—when Jack had been called away to confront a killer. Shortly thereafter, Kate had been shot. She’d only recently come home.
So, despite the fact she’d first attempted to seduce Jack ten years ago, when she was nineteen, she still had no idea what kind of lover he was. Which was surprising, when Kate thought about it, because she’d gone to bed with Wyatt Shaw within thirty minutes of meeting him.
Kate felt her breasts peak at the memory of his mouth on her naked flesh. She quickly lowered her gaze, mortified at where her thoughts had led her. Again.
She made herself picture Jack’s beloved face instead. She imagined his dark brown eyes looking down at her, imagined her fingers threading through his sun-streaked chestnut hair. Jack was tall, like Shaw, but his skin was burnished by wind and sun. She ached to have Jack kiss her, touch her, in places where… Where Wyatt Shaw already had.
“You can’t marry anyone so long as J.D. is still alive,” Shaw said, interrupting her disconcerting thoughts. “The way I see it, right now—and for the foreseeable future—my sons don’t have adequate protection.”
“My sons,” Kate automatically corrected, her chin lifting pugnaciously, “are my responsibility.” When Shaw continued to stare at her, she grudgingly corrected, “All right. Our sons are my responsibility. I don’t want or need your help.”
“The danger is real.”
He sounded concerned. But the fact was, they were strangers who, a long time ago, had found solace—and physical pleasure—in each other’s arms. An image of herself trembling as she watched Shaw’s callused fingertips stroke downward across her flat belly flashed in Kate’s mind. She made a growling sound in her throat, angry that memories of herself in bed with Shaw were so unforgettable.
“You’d all be safer if you came to live with me in Houston until J.D. is found,” Shaw said.
“That’s out of the question.”
“My compound is surrounded by high stone walls. I have twenty-four-hour security cameras and guards with dogs that patrol the perimeter.”
“That sounds more like a prison than a home,” Kate snapped.
“Lucky and Chance…”
When he paused, Kate saw his throat working. It was the first time he’d said his sons’ names since he’d shoved his way into her home. Apparently, it had affected him deeply.
But Kate couldn’t afford to sympathize, couldn’t afford to glamorize or glorify his appearance on her doorstep. She didn’t dare feel anything for Wyatt Shaw. She was fighting for her children’s lives. If Shaw had his way, she and her sons would be imprisoned behind high stone walls. She wasn’t about to let that happen.
“Legally, J.D. Pendleton is my sons’ father. You provided the seed. That was all. You have no legal rights where Lucky and Chance are concerned. None. I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. My sons—yes, my sons,” she repeated in a fierce voice, “have managed fine without you in their lives for eight years. And they’re far more likely to grow into fine young men if you never come anywhere near them.”
Shaw’s face blanched.
Kate felt a pang of remorse for hurting him. And ruthlessly quelled it. What did he expect? His reputation had preceded him. No mother would willingly expose her children to a man like Wyatt Shaw. He was the antithesis of Jack McKinley. One man was an outlaw, the other a lawman. There was no question in her mind who would make the better father.
She took a deep breath and said, “I’d like you to leave.”
Kate expected Shaw to argue. Expected him to threaten. Expected him to point out all the reasons why his suggestion was the best way, the only way, to keep her children safe. But he did none of those things.
He simply said, “Goodbye, Kate.” Then he turned and walked to the door. He opened it, glanced back over his shoulder, and said, “I’ll be in touch.”
Kate hurried across the living room to close and lock the door behind him. But she didn’t feel the least bit safe.
I’ll be in touch.
What did that mean? Kate’s stomach cramped as she realized how vulnerable her sons were. All Shaw had to do was intercept them at school. Or after they got off the bus.
Kate’s heart was lodged in her throat. She had to call the boys’ school. She had to warn them that her sons weren’t safe. She had to retrieve Lucky and Chance before Wyatt Shaw made his move. Because she was certain that once Shaw had her sons behind high stone walls, he would never give them back.
3
Jack McKinley had a knot in his belly. He wasn’t looking forward to the next half hour. He had a confession to make that was going to break Kate Pendleton’s heart.
He sat in his SUV, parked on the curb in front of her house, trying to put a smile on his face before he headed for her door. His mouth wouldn’t cooperate. She was going to see the truth in his eyes, so why pretend everything was all right? Nothing was going to be right for a very long time.
Well, not for the next four months, anyway. In four months his not-quite-ex-wife Holly would give birth to an unplanned baby. Unplanned because the sex between them had been unplanned.
Last November, Jack had traveled to Holly’s home in Kansas to have Thanksgiving dinner with his six-year-old son, Ryan. After Ryan had gone to bed, he’d had a terrible row with Holly over visitation rights.
The sharp blows they’d exchanged had all been verbal, but Holly knew exactly where to strike to hurt him most. He was equally adept at hitting below the belt and got in a few good licks of his own. They’d both been furious, hissing and snarling insults because Ryan was asleep down the hall.
They’d ended up having sex.
She’d scratched and bit. He’d left bruises. Neither had minded.
It was how they’d resolved most of the quarrels during their fractious nine-year marriage. There had been a lot less sex—and a lot less trust—toward the end. But he’d never imagined Holly could, or would, keep something as important as a child they’d created a secret from him.
But she had.
Jack had met Holly Gayle Tanner when he was fifteen and she was thirteen. She’d been on the junior cheerleading squad. He’d been the high school football quarterback. He’d already had sex with more than one girl when he’d met Holly, but he’d never been in love.
He’d taken one look at Holly, with her long, curly auburn hair and leaf-green eyes, her freckled nose and wide, friendly smile, and fallen hard and fast.
They’d been inseparable from the day they’d met. Until Holly had broken up with him at Christmas his senior year. He’d still been deeply in love with her, sifting his football scholarship offers as he planned their future together, when she’d told him, “I want a chance to date other guys. I want to see what else is out there. You’re going off to college, so we’ll be separated anyway.”
He’d been devastated.
Once he’d left the small town in the piney woods northeast of Houston where they’d grown up and headed to the University of Texas at Austin, they hadn’t crossed paths again until his 15th high school reunion. Holly was in town for the birth of her youngest sister’s first child and had come to the reunion with a friend from the cheerleading squad.
He’d felt his heart jump when he’d seen her stroll into the Kountze High School gymnasium. Felt it thump hard in his chest when he realized that she’d never married. And that he still loved her.
Holly had become a renowned pediatric oncologist. He was a pro football quarterback who’d been driven from the game, accused, but never tried and convicted, of shaving points in the Super Bowl. He’d lost the restaurant he’d opened in Austin, the Longhorn Grille, to the IRS for unpaid taxes.
Because of his suspected involvement in a national gambling scandal, he’d been offered the chance to work undercover as a Texas Ranger to bring down a mob-controlled gambling syndicate. Jack was proud of his work with the Rangers and had struggled, mostly successfully, to put his checkered past behind him.
He and Holly had both been in a good place in their lives, happy to see each other, eager to share old memories.
To his surprise, they’d ended up in bed that night. He remembered how shy she’d been with him. How tender he’d felt toward her. His heart in his throat, he’d proposed the next morning. And she’d accepted.
Despite the difficulties in their marriage, Jack would never have abandoned his family. His tall-for his-age, chestnut-haired, green-eyed son was the joy of his life. Holly was the one who’d asked for the divorce eleven months ago.
For the second time, and for reasons that were not entirely clear to him, she’d forced him out of her life.
Holly had taken Ryan with her to Kansas while they waited for the divorce lawyers to work out the financial arrangements between them and for the divorce to be finalized in court. Holly had wanted to live close to her parents, so they could help her with child care while she spent long hours at the hospital.
Jack had argued with the family court judge that he could only be a Texas Ranger in Texas, and that Holly shouldn’t be allowed to take his son so far away. The judge had replied that law enforcement was law enforcement, and Jack could take a job as a Kansas City cop if he wanted to be closer to his son.
But the Texas Rangers weren’t the same as other law enforcement agencies. Rangers worked as lone wolves, independent lawmen whose ingenuity and courage and determination made them the best at what they did. When Jack became a Ranger, he’d become part of a history that reached back to a time when the Texas Rangers provided law and order for the brand-new Republic of Texas, formed in 1836 with its own president and its own army and navy.
Despite his plea, the judge had given Holly permission to take Ryan and leave the state. His heart had ached for the loss of Holly. It had bled for the loss of his son.
He’d moved on with his life. He’d allowed himself to fall in love again, with Kate Pendleton. He’d enjoyed the time he spent with her sons, Lucky and Chance, in the months they’d lived with him and his parents at Twin Magnolias, his ranch west of Austin, while Kate was in a coma. He’d even arranged for Ryan to come stay with him and meet Kate’s sons during Christmas vacation.
Fortunately, Ryan had sent him a Valentine’s Day card with a drawing of “Mommy” showing Holly with a swollen belly. He figured Holly’s mother must have accidentally mailed it. Holly knew he’d always wanted more children. It was difficult to accept the fact that she’d schemed to keep this second pregnancy from him.
Even after he’d confronted his nearly-ex-wife, she’d lied.
“The baby isn’t yours,” she’d said, facing him with her chin tilted upward in a gesture of defiance he recognized all too well.
“You willing to prove that?”
She’d frowned. “We’re getting a divorce, Jack. What does it matter whose child this is?”
“I’m not having a son of mine born a bastard. It’s a burden no innocent child should have to bear. I can stand to be married to you long enough to give my son—”
“Or daughter,” she’d interjected.
“Or daughter,” Jack had said, imagining a little girl with Holly’s green eyes and red hair, “my name.”
Holly’s eyes had brimmed with tears as she said, “I don’t want to spend the last few months of my pregnancy with us at each other’s throats. And that’s what happens lately whenever we’re together.”
It had hurt to hear her say it, even though their marriage was within a few weeks of being over. “Too bad,” he’d retorted. “I’m not giving you a divorce until the baby’s born.”
“I want this fighting to be over with, Jack.” Her voice was angry. But her eyes were agonized.
“No problem,” Jack said. “The day you give birth, we’re quits. But the papers don’t get signed until then.”
“All right, Jack. You win.”
He’d won the argument, all right, but lost the war. At least, that was how it felt. Instead of being free to pursue a relationship with Kate, whom he loved, he’d tied himself to Holly for four more long months.
Of course, he and Kate couldn’t get married anyway until they found her errant husband. She’d only admitted J.D. was alive after Jack had said, “I love you”—to explain why she wasn’t completely free.
The world believed her husband was dead, but Kate knew J.D. was alive. How could she get a divorce from a man who was legally dead? And it took seven years after his “disappearance” to have J.D. declared dead—again.
But he’d bought a ring, anyway. He’d planned to go down on one knee tonight and propose to her.
Instead, he had to confess to Kate that while she’d been in a coma, he’d gone to bed with his wife. And gotten her pregnant.
That wasn’t the worst of it.
Holly had made demands of her own before she would agree to postpone their divorce until the child was born.
“I’ll stay married to you on one condition,” she’d said.
“You’re in no position to make conditions,” he’d shot back.
“You have to live with me and Ryan until the baby is born.”
He’d been so stunned that for a moment he hadn’t been able to speak. Fury had quickly followed. “Why are you jerking me around, Holly? You’re the one who asked for the divorce. You’re the one who kicked me out on my ass. And you’re the one who pointed out that all we ever do anymore is fight. Why in hell would you want us to live together for the next four months?”
“I want us to use this time to mend what was broken between us.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Jack was pretty sure they couldn’t mend what was broken between them if they lived together for the next forty years.
“I want us to become friends again,” she explained, her leaf-green gaze focused on his.
He’d always been a sucker for that pleading look, and she knew it. But he wasn’t about to let her manipulate him. “Why make this any harder than it is?”
In a soft, throaty voice that he couldn’t remember hearing Holly use in recent memory, she said, “We were best friends once, Jack.”
“That was a long time ago,” he replied, his voice harsh. “We can’t go back, Holly. What would be the point?”
“The point is, we’re going to have two children who’ll need us to be able to talk without arguing,” she said reasonably. “Two children who’ll need us to be friends in order to make custody arrangements without hurting them or each other.”
He hated to admit it, but she was right. Over the past year, every discussion they’d had about Ryan had been laced with animosity on her part and resentment on his. But there was a sticking point that made what she suggested impossible for him.
“I’m not giving up my job.”
“You won’t have to do that,” Holly said. “I’ve accepted a position at M.D. Anderson in Houston. I’ll be doing research at the Children’s Cancer Hospital on a grant through the end of my pregnancy. All you’d need to do is ask for a transfer across the state.”
He could hardly believe his ears. “When did all this happen?”
“I’ve been working on it for a couple of months.”
“You were intending to come back to Texas and you never told me?” He was angry again.
“It wasn’t any of your business.”
“My son’s whereabouts isn’t my business?”
She flushed and her green eyes sparked with anger equal to his own. “I know about you and Kate Pendleton. I didn’t want to come back to Texas until the divorce was final. It would have been humiliating to have my colleagues know my husband was involved with another woman, especially someone as high-profile as the governor’s daughter-in-law.”
He could see her point. Again. “How soon do you want to do this?”
“I’ve already rented a house near M.D. Anderson. Ryan and I will be moving there over the weekend.”
“This weekend?” he’d asked incredulously.
“The furniture’s being delivered Saturday morning. So, do you think you can get a transfer?”
His undercover assignment was located in Houston. He was investigating a businessman there. “That won’t be a problem.”
“When can we expect you to join us?”
“I can be there Saturday morning. Do you want help moving?”
He saw the astonishment on her face. She hadn’t been expecting him to manage a transfer so soon. Or maybe not at all? Had this all been another trick?
“That would be a big help,” she said. “I won’t tell Ryan you’re coming until you show up. It can be a nice surprise.”
Was she hoping he wouldn’t show up? “What are we going to tell him? He’s going to think we’re getting back together.”
“We can worry about that after the baby is born.”
And that was that.
Jack was distracted from his thoughts when Kate stuck her head out her front door and asked, “Are you all right?”
He shoved his way out of the SUV and headed down the sidewalk. “I’m fine.” As he closed the distance between them he said, “I have some news I need to share.”
He was surprised when her smile of welcome disappeared and she replied, “I have some news, too.”
4
Kate wanted Jack’s arms around her. She’d been seriously rattled by Wyatt Shaw’s visit. She’d realized she would never get to the twins’ elementary school before class let out for the day, so she’d called a friend who lived near the school and asked her to pick up Lucky and Chance. Her friend had called to let Kate know she had the boys in hand, so at least Shaw hadn’t intercepted them before they got on the bus. The boys were going to stay at their friend’s house and play for a while before her friend brought them home.
Then she’d paced the floor, waiting for Jack to arrive.
Jack represented comfort. And security. He arrived at her front door dressed like the lawman he was in the only “uniform” the Texas Rangers wore: a crisp, long-sleeved white western shirt with, in Jack’s case, a bolo tie with a silver clasp, Wrangler jeans, a western hat and cowboy boots.
As he stepped inside, he set his gray felt Stetson on a nearby table with the crown down. As soon as he did, she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He shoved the SIG Sauer P226 in a slide holster on his belt out of the way. But she could feel the cold imprint of the Texas Ranger badge, a star within a circle stamped out of a silver Mexican cinco peso coin which he wore over his left breast pocket, against her cheek.
She waited anxiously for his arms to close around her. Finally they did. But it wasn’t enough to quiet her fears.
“Hold me tighter, Jack.”
His grip tightened at last, but only for a moment, just long enough for her to hear that his heart was thumping surprisingly fast. Then he grasped her shoulders and pushed her away.
Kate raised her face, thinking Jack wanted to kiss her. She was confused by the anxious look in his dark brown eyes. For a moment, it seemed he wouldn’t kiss her. And then he did.
Kate welcomed the passionate meeting of tongues and caught fire as Jack yanked at the buttons on her cotton blouse. He shoved a hand inside her blouse, then inside her bra, and palmed the naked weight of her breast. He used his other hand to press her hips tight against his erection.
The abrasive brush of his callused thumb caused her nipples to peak. His tongue mimicked the sex act, withdrawing, then seeking honey again.
Kate shoved her hands up around Jack’s neck and into his hair, raising herself on tiptoe so their bodies would fit better, feeling the hot, hard length of him through the layers of denim they both wore. He wasn’t nearly close enough. She wanted him inside her.
Her hand shoved its way back down between them. She traced the shape of him, the length of him, the heat of him, and heard the guttural groan that told her he liked what she was doing.
Which made it all the more shocking when he tore his mouth from hers, yanked his hand out of her bra and grabbed her shoulders with both hands. He held her at arm’s length, his eyes tortured, his lungs heaving.
Kate could feel Jack’s body trembling with need. Felt her own knees buckling, as nature did its best to get her supine to procreate. “Jack?” she gasped.
“We have to stop. We can’t do this.”
“Why not? I love you.” It was the first time she’d said the words. “And I know you love me.” He’d told her so in the days before she’d been shot. He’d proved it by coming to the hospital every day while she was in a coma, and by taking care of her sons when her mother-in-law might have seized the opportunity to steal her children away.
Jack closed his eyes. His jaw worked as though he were fighting some great emotion. “Oh God, Kate.”
When he opened his eyes at last, there was a hopeless look in them that made her breath catch. Kate could think of only one reason why Jack wouldn’t want to make love. She looked earnestly up at him and sought the words that would ease his troubled mind.
“It’s okay, Jack. I know we can’t get married right away, maybe not for a long time.” J.D. might never be caught.
“But being shot, being in a coma, has taught me that none of us knows how long we have in this world. My heart is yours, Jack. I think it has been for a very long time. I want to make love to you. With you.”
Jack made a low, growling sound in his throat, but he kept her at arm’s length.
“We’ve waited long enough,” she said. “I want to start our lives together now. We can worry about J.D. when—or if—he ever shows up again.”
Kate tried to reach out and touch Jack, but his grip tightened painfully. “Ow. Jack, you’re hurting me.”
He let go of her abruptly and took a quick step back. When Kate reached out again, he put his hands up and snapped, “No. Don’t touch me.”
Kate recoiled. “What’s wrong?”
He shoved a hand through his sun-streaked chestnut hair and looked down and away.
Kate recognized the move. J.D. had done it often enough. That was guilt. But guilt about what?
Jack stalked past her to the wet bar on the far side of the living room. He found a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, poured himself a stiff drink and gulped it down in two swallows.
Kate watched him warily, stunned by his rejection. All she could think was that something had changed while she was in a coma. That he didn’t love her anymore. That he’d kept on watching over her sons because he’d felt an obligation to do so. He’d gotten carried away by the kissing and touching, but he wasn’t interested in anything permanent. Which explained why he’d seemed so upset by her profession of love.
“Have you changed your mind about loving me, Jack?” she asked, struggling to keep her chin from quivering.
“No!” His voice was loud. Harsh. As guttural as his groan of pleasure or his growl of guilt.
“Then why did you stop? Don’t you want to make love to me?”
“My balls ache, I want you so bad,” he said through gritted teeth. “I love you. I want to marry you.”
Kate shook her head in bafflement. “Then why—”
“Holly’s pregnant.”
It took Kate a moment to process what Jack had said. She was trying to figure out what Holly’s pregnancy had to do with Jack not making love to her. And realized what he hadn’t said.
“It’s your baby.”
Jack didn’t bother to confirm what she’d said. He just stood there looking sick at heart.
“When…? How soon…?”
“She got pregnant over Thanksgiving,” he said. “The baby’s due in mid-August.”
Kate felt the heat grow in her cheeks. While she’d been in a coma, Jack had been having sex with his wife.
“I’m sorry, Kate.”
“For what?” she snapped. “Holly’s your wife. She is still your wife, right?”
“She is. But—”
“Does this mean you’ve reconciled? That you’re not getting a divorce?”
“It was an accident,” Jack blurted.
Kate laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound.
“We were arguing and…” He rubbed a hand across his nape. “Aw, hell. That’s how Holly and I settled every argument we ever had during our marriage. It was just…habit.”
“You didn’t take any precautions?”
“She’s forty-one. Neither of us thought she could get pregnant because she’s been… What’s it called?”
“Menopausal?”
“Yeah. She started missing periods and said that was the end of kids for us. So I didn’t think—”
“That’s the understatement of the year,” Kate muttered.
“Look, neither Holly nor I planned for her to get pregnant. It just happened. And now that it has…”
He paused again, and Kate waited to hear the death knell to her dreams of a life with Jack. “And now?”
“I don’t want my child born a bastard.”
Kate’s breath soughed out of her. “I see.”
He didn’t explain further. He didn’t need to. She could see where he was headed.
“I presume that means you’re not getting a divorce.”
“We’re still getting divorced. We’re just not going to sign the papers until after the baby’s born in August,” Jack qualified.
“What if I’m willing to have you live here and make love to me while you’re still, technically, married to Holly?”
He was already shaking his head. “I can’t do that, Kate.”
“Why not?”
“Holly set conditions on us staying married until the baby is born, one of which is that we live together in Houston for the rest of her pregnancy. She has a job at M.D. Anderson.”
Kate felt dizzy. “You’re moving to Houston? To live with Holly?”
“And Ryan.”
Kate felt an awful ache in her chest, felt her eyes brim with sudden tears, as though someone she loved had just died. She fought the sorrow with anger. “Why would Holly want you to live with her? She’s the one who asked for the divorce!”
“She wants to use these few months together to work out some of our differences, so we can be friends again.”
“Friends?” Kate snorted the word as though it was an epithet.
“Holly and I won’t be sleeping together, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I’m in love with you.”
Kate moaned and swayed. She covered her face with her hands and fought back a sob.
Jack crossed the room in three strides and gathered her in his arms. His cheek was pressed close to hers and his voice was gruff as he said, “This is just a hiccup, sweetheart. We’ll be together soon. But I have to do this.”
Kate opened her mouth to tell Jack about the threat she faced from Wyatt Shaw and closed it again without speaking. It would tear Jack in two if he thought she was in trouble and needed him while he was stuck living with his wife in Houston.
“When do you leave?”
“Tonight. I’m helping Holly move in tomorrow.”
Kate startled herself when she burst into tears.
“Honey, sweetheart, please don’t cry,” Jack crooned.
Kate felt him kiss her closed eyes, felt him kiss away the hot tears on her cheeks.
He put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. “Look at me, Kate.”
He waited patiently until she opened her eyes.
She looked up at Jack through a veil of tears. “It’s not fair, Jack. It’s like fate is conspiring against us.”
“Our day will come, Kate. Sooner than you think.”
But Kate wasn’t so sure. What if Jack fell back in love with his wife? And she’d been counting on Jack to be a buffer between her and Wyatt Shaw.
She swallowed over the painful knot of sorrow—and fear—in her throat and said, “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Hey,” Jack said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “It won’t be so bad. We can talk on the phone every day, and I can visit sometimes on weekends. We have the Internet and texting. If you love me as much as I love you, we can get through this together.”
She didn’t want to be coaxed into compliance. She stiffened in his arms. “You’re still planning to woo me while you’re living with your wife?”
“My very pregnant wife,” Jack pointed out.
“Pregnant women are beautiful.”
“I’m sure you were,” Jack said with a grin. “And I hope you will be again.”
Kate flushed. She was only thirty, with many more childbearing years, she hoped, ahead of her. She laid a palm against Jack’s cheek, which was rough from an early five o’clock shadow, and said, “I would love having a child with you.”
“Give me four months, Kate,” he said, “and we can start to work on it.”
The kiss he gave her was soft, tender, loving. And brief. His gaze was still focused on her mouth as he said, “I’m sorry I have to break our date tonight. I’ll make it up to you. I’d better get out of here before I do something I’ll be sorry for in the morning.”
Kate knew she could tempt him. Even though Jack had said he ought to leave, he was still holding her close. It wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. He was aroused again—or still. His dark eyes were heavy-lidded, with an avid look that made her pulse leap.
“You’d better go.” But she made no move to send him on his way.
“I love you,” he said again.
“And I love you.”
Which made what he was about to do all the more insane, Kate thought. Maybe if she told him about Shaw he would stay. But that would mean telling Jack who’d really fathered the twins. He was going to learn the truth sooner or later, and surely it would be better if he heard it from her than found out some other way.
“Jack…”
“Hmm,” he said as he nuzzled her throat.
She leaned her head back to give him better access, feeling the shiver roll down her spine as he sucked on the tender skin beneath her ear.
“I have a confession, too,” she whispered.
“Hmm,” he said, trailing kisses across her cheek, headed for her mouth.
“I…”
He caught her lower lip in his teeth and nibbled gently. She returned the favor. Soon, Kate was breathless, as desire spiraled upward through her body.
“I have to go, Kate,” he said. But he sought her mouth with his, and they were caught up once more in the pleasure of kissing and touching each other.
With the sixth sense every mother has, Kate heard the front door opening. She pulled free of Jack’s embrace and pressed a quick hand to her mouth before she turned to greet her sons with a bright smile.
“Mom, we’re home!” Lucky said as he flung the door open.
“Hi, Jack. How’s Ryan?” Chance said.
The twins had met Ryan at Christmas and talked about him often. According to Jack, Ryan had been jealous of the twins spending time with “his” father and had rebuffed their attempts at friendship at first. But before the holiday was over, the three boys had become “Best Buds.”
“Ryan’s fine,” Jack said. “In fact, I’m glad I have this chance to let you boys know I’ll be living with Ryan for the next couple of months.”
“You’re going to Kansas?” Lucky asked.
“Ryan and his mom are moving back to Texas,” Jack said. “I’m going to live with them in Houston for a little while.”
Kate held her breath, hoping Jack wouldn’t mention Holly’s pregnancy.
Chance frowned and glanced from Jack to Kate. “I thought you and Mom liked each other.”
“We did,” Jack said. “We do,” he corrected. “But Holly’s—” Jack stopped and looked at Kate, seeking guidance.
“Ryan’s mother is pregnant,” Kate explained. “Jack’s going to live in Houston to help her out until she has the baby.”
Kate waited with bated breath for one of the twins to ask how Ryan’s mother had gotten pregnant, but neither did.
“You’re coming back though, right?” Chance asked.
Jack playfully ruffled his black hair. “You bet!”
“There are chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen,” Kate said, hoping to distract her sons and prevent more awkward questions.
The twins gave a yell and headed for the kitchen.
“Be sure to leave your book bags on the counter,” she called after them. She turned to Jack and barely stopped herself from walking right back into his arms. “We’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss all of you, too.”
Kate waited for a last kiss, a final hug. But Jack was keeping his distance. She needed to tell him about Wyatt Shaw’s ultimatum and ask for his help. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Can it wait, honey? I need to check in with my captain before I leave town and I’ve got some packing to do. We’ll have three hours to talk while I’m on the road to Houston tonight. If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to want to hold you again.” He grabbed his Stetson from the table by the door and settled it low on his forehead.
Kate was torn. Her fear of Wyatt Shaw warred with her fear of what Jack would think of her when he knew the truth. “Jack, I wish—”
“Goodbye, Kate.” He kissed her hard and walked out the door.
And ran right into Wyatt Shaw.
5
“Did my father send you here?” Wyatt snarled at Jack, as the two men faced off on Kate’s covered front porch.
“Hell, no!” Jack retorted. “What are you doing here?”
“None of your damn business,” Wyatt said.
Kate’s blood ran cold as she watched Wyatt and Jack face off like vicious junkyard dogs claiming the same territory. She was shocked by their verbal exchange, which suggested the two men knew each other.
Wyatt shot Kate a veiled look, then said to Jack, “You tell D’Amato to keep his nose out of my business.”
“Tell him yourself,” Jack said as he backed his way down her front steps, never taking his eyes off Shaw.
Kate felt like she was watching a movie in a foreign tongue with no translation under the picture. She was both confused and terrified. It seemed Wyatt thought Jack, a man wearing the uniform and badge of a Texas Ranger, took orders from his father, the mob boss. And Jack was playing along.
The explanation came to her in a flash.
Jack is on some kind of undercover assignment for the Rangers. Wyatt has seen him talking in private with D’Amato and made the assumption that Jack is on his father’s payroll.
It was the only thing that made sense. Jack had to be working—or pretending to work—for D’Amato, collecting enough information about the mobster’s criminal activities to put him behind bars.
Why hadn’t Jack simply told Shaw that he and Kate were romantically involved?
Because if Jack is working undercover for the mob, it might put me and my sons in danger.
Kate shuddered at the thought of what D’Amato might do to Jack—or to those Jack loved—if he learned the Texas Ranger was still one of the good guys.
“Did he hurt you?” Wyatt asked.
“Of course not!”
“Did he ask you any questions about the twins?”
“Why would he?”
Wyatt frowned. “You said you were dating a Texas Ranger. Is he the one you’re seeing? The one you’re planning to marry?”
Kate’s heart pumped a burst of adrenaline into her bloodstream. Should she tell Shaw the truth? Or lie? She decided on the literal truth. “I may have exaggerated my relationship to Jack,” she said. “Under the circumstances, it seemed safer to say I was involved with another man.”
“You’re not engaged?”
“No. I’m not involved romantically with anyone at the moment. Jack’s just a friend.”
“What was he doing here?” Wyatt demanded.
“He came to see how I’m doing, now that I’m home from rehab. Jack and his parents were kind enough to take care of the twins at his ranch while I was in a coma and for the past six weeks while I’ve been recuperating. You do know that I was shot in the arm and the chest last October, and that I was in a coma for four months?”
He nodded curtly. “I assumed your parents kept the twins.”
Kate shook her head. “My mother was in delicate health—pregnant with a late-in-life baby—so Jack stepped in.”
Wyatt followed Jack’s progress, his eyes narrowed, till he reached his SUV, then turned back to face her. Jack shot her an anxious look behind Wyatt’s back that asked, What the hell is he doing here?
Apparently, he couldn’t stay and demand answers from her without blowing whatever cover he’d established for himself as one of Dante D’Amato’s minions.
In a raspy voice too soft for Jack to hear, Shaw said, “Did you tell him?”
“Tell him what?”
“Don’t play dumb. Did you tell him the twins are mine?”
“No, I didn’t.” But she’d come very close.
“Thank God for that.”
Kate blanched as she realized why Shaw was so upset. He thought Dante D’Amato had also discovered the truth about who’d fathered the twins and sent Jack here to get Kate to confirm or deny what he’d heard.
“By the time my father knows for sure that Lucky and Chance are my sons,” Shaw said, “I’ll have you all somewhere he can’t get to you.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Kate said, her voice sharp with fear. “Neither are my sons. Why should your father be any threat to us? I would think he’d be glad to know he has grandchildren.”
“You don’t know Dante D’Amato.”
Kate glanced toward where she’d last seen Jack, but his SUV had already disappeared down a small hill under a canopy of live oaks. Why had he abandoned her with Shaw? Was protecting his cover more important than protecting the woman he loved and her children from someone with Wyatt Shaw’s reputation?
It must be.
Or maybe the best way to protect her was to pretend not to be romantically involved with her. Which gave her way too much food for thought.
Kate stood with a hand on either side of the doorway, blocking Shaw’s entrance, and said in a cold voice, “I told you not to come back.”
“Let me in, Kate.”
It was a command, pure and simple. Kate’s neck hairs rose. “Go away. I don’t want you here.”
“I know the twins are home. I intend to see them.”
She tried slamming the door in his face, but he caught it again with his hand.
“We’re not going through this again, are we?”
Kate realized she wasn’t physically capable of keeping him out. She was trying to think of an argument that would convince him to go away when Lucky and Chance came barreling into the living room.
“Mom! Chance is cheating at Mario Brothers Galaxy on the Wii!” Lucky complained. “He won’t give me my turn.”
“I was not!” Chance said, shoving Lucky in the back. “You’re just afraid I’ll beat you.”
Lucky turned and socked Chance in the shoulder.
Kate left Shaw standing where he was to intervene between her sons. “Chance! Lucky! Stop that right now!”
Shaw moved into the open doorway behind her, where she knew he could see the fracas.
Kate grimaced. Her sons weren’t making a very good first impression on their father. “We have company,” she announced.
But Chance had already tripped Lucky, who turned and grabbed Chance’s school uniform shirtfront on the way down. Both boys landed hard on the floor. They rolled, hitting at each other with their fists and knocking into the furniture with their thrashing feet.
Kate wished she could tell Shaw that this behavior was unusual. But ever since she’d come home from rehab, they’d roughhoused like this at least once a day. She supposed Jack must have tolerated this sort of behavior over the past four months while the boys had been living at his ranch house.
“That’s enough.”
Kate watched as her sons’ heads snapped toward the door. She wondered whether it was the mere sound of a male speaking, or the stern, no-nonsense tone of Wyatt’s voice, that had gotten their attention.
They untangled themselves and sat up, staring at the stranger who’d spoken.
Wyatt closed the door behind him and crossed to stand beside her. She knew he was waiting for her to introduce him to her—their—sons. “Come over here,” she said gently. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
That wasn’t true. She didn’t like anything about this situation. But she figured this traumatic moment in her sons’ lives would be less devastating if she orchestrated it.
The twins never took their curious gazes off Shaw. A quick glance at Shaw revealed that his gray eyes were focused intently on Lucky and Chance. His impenetrable gaze gave nothing away, but Kate could see the tension in his shoulders, the muscle that worked in his jaw. She felt a moment of guilt for depriving him of knowing his sons and quickly squelched it.
Wyatt Shaw was a ruthless man capable of anything, maybe even murder. Just because the police hadn’t found enough evidence to arrest him didn’t mean he wasn’t guilty of strangling that poor woman with his bare hands. Could he possibly be as innocent as his expensive lawyer had told the press he was? If Shaw hadn’t killed that woman, who had? And why had she been found in his bed?
Kate couldn’t believe the direction her thoughts had taken. She was realizing, far too late, that just because this stranger had been gentle with her during the night they’d spent together, didn’t mean he wasn’t a killer.
“Mom?” Chance said anxiously.
Kate flushed when she realized she’d been staring at Shaw—perhaps with the fear she was feeling showing in her eyes. She took a deep breath and said, “This is Wyatt Shaw. Mr. Shaw is…”
Kate’s throat suddenly constricted. How was she supposed to introduce him? It seemed too abrupt to baldly announce to her sons that this man was their biological father. She turned to Shaw, looking for help. She found no sympathy in his steel-gray eyes. She realized she would rather tell the boys herself than have Shaw say the words, which he surely would, if she didn’t speak them soon.
Kate turned back to her sons and saw the innocence Shaw was forcing her to steal. She took a deep breath and said, “Mr. Shaw is—”
“I’m an old friend of your mother’s,” Shaw interrupted.
Kate shot a surprised—and grateful—look in Shaw’s direction.
“I’m Lucky,” Lucky said, holding out his hand to be shaken.
Kate watched as Wyatt solemnly took his son’s hand. Shaw’s hand completely enveloped the smaller one. His hold lingered long enough that Lucky pulled free.
“I’m Chance.” Chance thrust his hand out to be shaken.
This time Wyatt let go before the boy felt the need to pull away.
“Is it all right if we go play on the Wii again, Mom?” Lucky asked.
Kate turned to Wyatt, wondering if he wanted to talk further with the boys. He met her gaze, the look in his eyes still obscure, and gave the slightest nod of agreement. She turned back to her sons and said, “Can you do it without fighting?”
The twins exchanged grins, then turned to her and simultaneously said, “You bet.”
“All right. Another half hour. Then you need to go wash your hands for supper.”
Kate waited for the boys to disappear before she turned back to Shaw. “You’ve met them. Now I’d like you to leave.”
“Is that normal behavior?”
Kate bristled at the implied criticism but forced herself to stay calm. She refused to care what Wyatt Shaw thought. He wasn’t going to be around long enough for it to matter. She shrugged and said, “They’re boys.”
“You allow them to fight like that in the house?”
She opened her mouth to explain that the twins’ behavior was more rambunctious now than it had been before her accident and snapped it shut again. She would not apologize to this man for anything her sons did.
“I’ve made arrangements to fly the three of you to Houston tonight,” he said. “You’ll be living with me. You should pack a few bags with whatever you need for tonight and maybe tomorrow. I’ll be providing everything you need from now on.”
Kate felt as though he’d punched her in the gut. It took a moment to recover enough air to speak. “You can just tear up the tickets, because we’re not going anywhere.”
A smile flickered across his face. “We’re traveling on my private jet.”
“I have a job here. I have to earn a living.”
“Not anymore. I’ll be taking care of any expenses associated with my sons. And their mother, of course.”
“I enjoy my work,” Kate said angrily.
“You enjoy providing physical therapy to amputees at Brooke Army Medical Center?”
“Yes!” she said, unsettled that Wyatt knew what she did and where she worked. “You can see how special—and unique—my work is. I can’t do it just anywhere or with just anyone.”
“You can find a comparable job at M.D. Anderson.”
Kate gasped. “Jobs like mine don’t grow on trees.”
“They’ll give you a job.”
“What makes you so sure?” she demanded.
“I’m a benefactor.”
“Oh, so you’ll buy me a job, is that what you’re saying?”
“You’re the one who said you wanted to work. I told you, there’s no need.”
“I don’t want your money. I make enough to support us.”
“My sons are entitled to whatever I can give them,” Wyatt said. “And I can give them more than this.” He gestured around her tiny living room.
She could understand the male need to be the provider. But she was stung by his disdain for her home, which was filled with love, even if it was small. She lifted her chin and said, “There’s more to being a good parent than living in a big house.”
“Thanks to you, I wouldn’t know about that,” he shot back.
“What makes you think you can be a good father to my sons?” she challenged.
“I’m sure you’ll let me know where I go wrong.”
“You have an answer for everything.”
“There’s nothing you can say to make me change my mind.”
Kate made a rumbling sound of frustration. There was another very good reason she didn’t want to go anywhere near Houston and M.D. Anderson. Holly would be living and working there. But she wasn’t about to mention that to Shaw.
“The boys attend a good school.”
“There are good schools in Houston.”
“Their friends are here.”
“They can make new friends.”
“You mean they’re going to be allowed to socialize with other human beings,” Kate said sarcastically. “I thought we were going to be hiding behind high stone walls.”
“Now you’re being absurd.”
Kate fought the tears that threatened. She gripped her hands together to keep him from seeing how badly they were trembling. “I’m happy living here. I don’t want to move.”
“You can’t stay here,” Wyatt said flatly. “It’s not safe. Your Texas Ranger friend isn’t going to be any help to you. He’s proved his loyalty to my father.”
Kate wondered what Jack had done to prove his loyalty to the mob boss. It didn’t bear thinking about. “I can hire protection,” she said.
“It won’t be enough.”
“Who says?”
“You don’t even have a garage for your car. It would be easy to put a bomb in it.”
Kate felt gooseflesh rise on her arms. “Who would do such a thing?”
He didn’t answer her, just lifted a brow and let her imagine the worst. Which she easily did.
Kate was startled by a hard knock on the door. Her heart leapt with the hope that Jack had returned. His name was already on her lips, when the door swung open with a bang.
A giant with the face of a gargoyle stepped inside.
“Oh, God!” Kate cried. She turned to run toward the bedroom, where the boys were playing, but Shaw grabbed her around the waist and yanked her back tight against his chest. His other hand came up to cover her mouth but never closed over it.
“Don’t scream,” he warned.
Kate whimpered, but she didn’t scream. She wasn’t sure she could have, because all the air had been frightened out of her lungs. She remained silent because she didn’t want to draw Lucky and Chance into the living room to witness her death.
“If you’re going to kill me,” she said in a shaky voice, “I’d rather you didn’t do it in front of my sons.”
“Boss?” the big man said, his scarred brow furrowing.
“It’s all right, Bruce,” Shaw said. “I think Mrs. Pendleton thought my father sent you to take care of both of us.” He angled Kate’s chin so she could see his face and said, “I asked Bruce to join us.”
Kate sagged in Wyatt’s arms and put a hand to her mouth to hold back a sob of relief. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she blinked them back. “Why?” she gasped.
“What?”
“Why did he burst in here like that?”
“Bruce was waiting outside in the limo with my driver. I told him to give me fifteen minutes and join us.”
“It’s all right, ma’am,” Bruce said. “I’m here to protect you. Actually, I’m going to be keeping an eye on the Boss’s kids.” He glanced at Shaw, smiled crookedly and said, “I think the Boss is going to be keeping an eye on you himself.”
A polite giant. Who knew?
Kate would have laughed, except her throat was still choked with leftover terror.
“Can you stand if I let you go?” Shaw asked, easing her feet back onto the ground.
Kate’s legs were limp noodles. The instant Shaw set her down, she stumbled away from him and turned to face both men. “You had this planned from the beginning,” she said bitterly. “I never had any choice in the matter, did I?”
“No.”
“What if I refuse to go with you?”
“You can stay. But the boys are coming with me.”
Kate was horrified. “They won’t leave the house without me, not without a fight.”
“Whatever it takes, they’re coming with me.”
Kate realized what he was saying. “You’d use force on your own sons?”
“I’d rather not,” he admitted.
But he would. He’d obviously brought the big man in to help him manhandle the twins, if that became necessary. Kate felt panicked. She glanced toward the landline in the living room, but knew she wouldn’t have time to dial 911 before Shaw stopped her. Maybe she could call for help when she was in her bedroom supposedly packing.
“Don’t even think it,” Shaw said.
“What?”
“Don’t think about calling the police. Or anyone else. I promise you, you’ll regret it.”
It was a threat that left everything to her imagination. Which was working overtime.
“Call the twins back in here,” Shaw said. “We need to tell them what’s going on. Then Bruce will help them pack.”
“What about me?”
“Are you coming?”
Her mind was racing, trying to think of a way out of the trap Shaw had sprung. But she—and her sons—were well and truly caught. “What’s to keep me from calling the police later? I mean, if I’m going to be allowed to work, I’m not always going to be stuck behind high stone walls.”
He didn’t even dignify her question with an answer.
He would have an explanation ready that would satisfy the police. And he had a secret weapon. He was the twins’ father. He could prove it, if need be. He might seek joint custody or, if she became too troublesome, sole custody of the twins.
And he had the money to make it all happen.
Her family was wealthy, and she knew both her grandfathers would be happy to fight Shaw. But a nasty legal fight like that was bound to impact her sons’ lives. And not in a good way.
She met Wyatt’s implacable gaze and said, “Suppose I go with you willingly and give Lucky and Chance a reason for this visit that will keep them from hating your guts. When is this forced imprisonment going to end? When is it going to be safe for my sons to come back home?”
His answer was blunt and uncompromising. “From now on, their home will be with me.”
6
“I need cash, Mother. I’m tapped out.”
Ann Wade Pendleton pursed her lips as she stared at her wayward son. She’d received some shockingly bad news this morning and had abandoned the campaign trail for her ranch in Midland, Texas, seeking solitude to think about what she should do. Surprise, surprise, she’d discovered J.D. hiding out at the ranch, which boasted far more oil wells than cattle.
Luckily, she’d kept her Secret Service contingent out of the house, so knowledge of her “dead” son’s presence, and the public relations disaster that would have resulted, had been narrowly averted.
She could remember being glad, as her only son grew from a boy into a man, that he’d inherited his father’s good looks and athletic ability. J.D. was tall and blond and blue-eyed. He’d become a star football player. He’d also learned at the master’s knee how to charm a woman, how to lie to her and cheat on her and still smile at her without a hint of guilt.
She almost didn’t recognize the gaunt figure with shaggy blond hair and sunken blue eyes who sat slumped in the studded black leather chair across from her. The charm was long gone. What she saw in her son’s eyes was desperation. And despair.
She contemplated the road to J.D.’s downfall from her seat behind the ancient oak desk where her deceased husband had kept track of his dwindling fortune. Dwindling because Jonas David Pendleton, Jr. had gambled his oil money on every half-assed hare-brained investment scheme that came along. Another trait he’d passed along to his son.
J.D. had married a woman with enough money to keep them living in luxury their entire lives and had frittered it away in a few years. It was her son’s enormous unpaid gambling debts that had gotten him into trouble with D’Amato, and given the mobster the leverage he needed to involve J.D. in the brokering of guns for heroin that had led to her son’s ruin.
Ann Wade settled farther back into the oversize chair made of polished cow horns and covered in black-and-white spotted cowhide and asked her son, “What happened to the quarter million I gave you last fall?”
“It’s expensive to stay invisible, Mother. Bribes. Payoffs. Blackmail. And the sons of bitches found me in Brazil anyway. I was lucky to escape with my life.”
Ann Wade’s insides wrenched when her son reached toward the festering scab on his face where a bullet had gouged a path through his flesh. Fortunately, he dropped his hand before touching it.
“Actually, getting shot is the least of my worries,” J.D. said. “I think Dante D’Amato has something far worse than a bullet to the brain in mind if he ever runs me down. Probably a bullet in each knee and two in my balls—for a start.”
“Why don’t you give him back the heroin he told me you stole from him?” Ann Wade said.
“He’s already made it clear it’s too late for that. Besides, I don’t have it anymore.”
“What happened to it?”
“I stowed it in a cargo container on the deck of a tramp steamer. The container went overboard during a hurricane. What are the chances?” he said ruefully.
Ann Wade knew her son wasn’t as nonchalant as he was trying to appear. Besides the infected-looking scab across his left cheek, he had another bullet wound in his thigh that hadn’t yet healed. The hitmen D’Amato had sent to hunt him down had left her son wounded and shaken.
She wasn’t so sanguine herself. She was practically a shoo-in to be selected as her party’s next presidential candidate. Everything could fall apart in a heartbeat if J.D.’s criminal activities, not to mention the fact that he’d faked his death and deserted his post in wartime, became known. God forbid the public learned that she’d paid her son an extortionate amount of cash to disappear.
She could understand why some mothers ate their young.
“This can’t continue, J.D. You have to come to some accommodation with D’Amato.”
“You have twenty million dollars to spare?”
“No, I don’t!” she snapped. “It’s bad enough that I’ve had to keep the Texas attorney general off D’Amato’s back since that mobster found out you’re still alive. I was able to justify that by saying D’Amato is the federal government’s problem, not ours. I even managed to reassign Jack McKinley, the Texas Ranger hottest on D’Amato’s trail, as a bodyguard for my grandsons. But I don’t like being blackmailed by that conniving bastard.”
Ann Wade patted at her short, perfectly coifed blond hair and pressed her lips together to smooth her pink lipstick, both activities that helped her to calm down. It was never a good idea for a woman in politics to show too much emotion. But she was seriously annoyed with her son.
“I shudder to think what that scoundrel might expect from me once I’m president,” she said. “You need to disappear, J.D. Somewhere I can be sure D’Amato will never find you.”
So long as her son was alive and about in the world, D’Amato had a very large sword to dangle over her head. Once she was president, any accusations D’Amato made without J.D.’s body in hand could be explained away.
J.D.’s casket in Arlington Cemetery was empty because there had supposedly only been enough of his body left after the ammo dump explosion to identify his remains through DNA. J.D. had given the sample of his DNA, along with a great deal of cash, to the lab tech making the identification. So, no body, no proof her son had survived.
J.D. made a disgusted sound in his throat and shoved himself onto his feet, limping over to the wet bar. “So nice to know you care, Mother.”
Ann Wade watched as J.D. poured himself a Dewar’s and drank it down, then poured another double shot, drank it and carefully set down his glass.
He turned to her and said, “What did you have in mind for me to do? I tried disappearing. It didn’t work.”
“Then perhaps you should stop running and start fighting back.”
“How?”
“You’re the demolitions expert. Figure it out.” If D’Amato was dead, it would solve both their problems.
“D’Amato has a half-dozen bodyguards around him at all times. His home in Houston is impregnable. His cars are kept in underground garages. He has no family left except that bastard son of his, and Wyatt Shaw has security even tighter than his father’s.” He cracked his knuckles, then added, “Well, there may have been a loophole or two, but those have been closed since that hooker was found strangled in his bed.”
“And you know all this how?”
“I’m not as dumb as you think, Mother. You’re not the first one to consider blasting the problem out of existence.” He poured himself another drink and gulped half of it down.
Ann Wade almost smiled. There were some things J.D. had learned from her. Shrewdness. Guile. And a willingness to do the hard thing.
She loved her son, but right now, J.D. was a loose end that could cost her the presidency. And his situation was unfraying before her eyes.
She debated whether to tell him the shocking news she’d heard this morning from Harry Dickenson’s assistant, who was going through his deceased boss’s open files to make final reports to Harry’s clients. She should’ve known that her bitch of a daughter-in-law would find a way to stab her in the back. Her grandsons, who’d been such assets in the political arena, had become definite liabilities.
Her eyes narrowed. “I have some unpleasant news I need to share with you.”
J.D. groaned. “Save it.”
“This is important. It relates to our other problem.” She smiled as she realized her own play on words, “In fact, it’s directly related to our other problem.”
He swallowed the rest of the Dewar’s in his glass and said, “Get to the point, Mother.”
Upset at his rude interruption, Ann Wade said bluntly, “Lucky and Chance aren’t your sons.”
“The hell you say!” J.D. limped his way over to her from the bar, his unshaven face blotchy with the blood that had rushed there. “That isn’t funny, Mother.”
“No, it isn’t,” she agreed, curling her hands around the smooth horn arms of the chair. “And you haven’t even heard the best part.” She sat forward and looked up at him. “Wyatt Shaw is their father.”
The glass dropped from J.D.’s hand and rolled across the Turkish carpet under the desk, before clattering along the pegged oak floor all the way to the wall.
“You’re shitting me,” J.D. said.
“I promise you, it’s the truth. I found out the twins weren’t your sons when Lucky needed a blood transfusion earlier this year. Kate was in a coma, so the hospital sought permission from me to treat him. Which is how I found out his blood type is A positive, an impossibility if the twins were yours.”
“How did you find out Shaw is their father?”
“I hired a very good private investigator, Harry Dickenson. Harry’s assistant called me this morning to tell me he found copies of DNA tests that prove Shaw fathered the twins. The assistant was calling because Harry was killed after he met with Shaw.”
“Shaw had him killed?”
“Who knows? He was hit by a garbage truck that ran a red light outside Shaw’s office in downtown Houston.”
“Has Shaw contacted Kate?”
“I don’t know that he has, but we have to presume that he will.”
“Oh, shit.”
“What has me concerned is the possibility that Dante D’Amato has—or will—discover the truth.”
“Holy shit.”
“Precisely my feeling,” Ann Wade said.
“Goddamn it all to hell,” J.D. said angrily, stomping back to the bar, where he found another glass and poured himself another double shot of Dewar’s.
“I’m not any happier about this than you are,” Ann Wade said. “Do you realize what this means?”
“My wife was fucking another man the same time she was fucking me.”
“I was thinking more about the additional ammunition this will give D’Amato when he comes asking for more favors.”
“This is all that bitch’s fault,” J.D. muttered.
Ann Wade didn’t bother to point out that J.D. had been playing the same game as his wife. Except, no unexpected children had shown up on his doorstep. Yet.
“What happens now?” J.D. asked, shoving a hand through his stringy blond hair.
“I think the solution to both our problems is obvious.”
“Kill D’Amato. Kill Shaw. Kill both the bastards dead.”
“Can you do it?” she asked. “Or arrange to have it done?”
“Sure. If I had enough cash.”
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand,” J.D. said. “But the minute you make a withdrawal like that, D’Amato’s going to hear about it and start looking over his shoulder for a hired assassin.”
“I’ve got that much in the safe here at the ranch.”
“Then I can manage the rest. I plan to—”
“I don’t give a good goddamn how you make this all go away, J.D.,” she interrupted brusquely. “Just get it done.”
Because if he didn’t, she would take care of the problem herself. The entire problem.
7
“This plane is bad!” Lucky said, grinning broadly as he stepped inside Wyatt’s luxurious Gulfstream 550 business jet.
By which Wyatt knew his son meant the plane was “neat” or “cool” or one of the myriad other phrases his generation had used to sound “hip.”
“It’s a jet, stupid,” Chance said as he clambered onto the camel-colored leather couch that took up part of one wall toward the rear of the plane. He leaned over to peer through a porthole window and said, “How far can we fly before we have to stop, Mr. Shaw?”
“She’ll go seven thousand seven hundred and fifty nautical miles without a fill-up,” Wyatt replied with a smile. He was going to have to think of something else to have his sons call him besides “Mr. Shaw.” And he would rather his sons didn’t call each other stupid. But there would be plenty of time to correct them, after they learned he was their father.
And that he loved them. Had loved them from the moment he’d seen their images in a photograph and learned of their existence. And that he would always love them. For themselves, of course, and because they had brought him back together with their mother.
Wyatt had felt poleaxed when he’d realized that the mother of his children was the woman with whom he’d spent a single, life-altering night nine years before. That woman had shared herself without holding back, then stolen away like a thief in the dark, taking his heart with her.
He shouldn’t have been surprised when the anonymous woman disappeared or when she was impossible to find. He’d felt the rings on her finger the moment she’d grasped his hand. He’d known she was someone else’s wife, that she’d chosen him at random for a night of sex. He hadn’t asked her reasons and she hadn’t offered any.
He hadn’t asked her name or given her his.
She’d nearly chickened out when the elevator doors opened on the penthouse floor. Her chin had wobbled, and she’d looked up at him with anxious blue eyes. He’d led her directly to the bedroom, hoping that her nerve would hold a little longer.
The bed had already been turned down, and the only light on the pure white sheets had come from the full moon outside. He’d taken her in his arms while she was still fully clothed and felt her tremble in his embrace. She’d made a mewing sound as he slid his open hand down to her hips and pulled her close enough to feel the heat and hard length of him.
But she didn’t try to pull free. Instead, she breathed in the scent of him as she slid her palms up over his shoulders. He could remember feeling gooseflesh rise on his arms as she teased her fingers through the hair that fell onto his nape and then tugged his head down toward hers.
He remembered the soft weight of her breasts, and then their pebbled tips against his chest, as she leaned into him and raised her lips for his kiss.
That first kiss—
“Wow!” Chance said, tugging on Wyatt’s hand and putting an abrupt end to his erotic daydream. “We could probably go all the way to China in this plane!”
“Yes, we could,” he agreed. Before he could say more, the boy was off to investigate more of the plane.
Wyatt’s gaze shot to the door. He’d boarded after the twins but before Kate, who’d stayed behind with Bruce to remove some items from her luggage before it was loaded into the baggage compartment. He wondered what was holding her up.
He’d taken off his suit jacket and tie, loosened the top couple of buttons on his shirt and folded up the sleeves. He was standing slightly hunched near the cockpit door, so his head didn’t hit the 6’2” ceiling. It was the only thing he didn’t love about the sixty-million-dollar jet, which had actually taken him to China and back several times over the past six months. Unfortunately, the next size up jet with the headroom he needed was a Boeing 737.
Kate suddenly appeared in the doorway. She glared at him—a far cry from the yearning look he’d been remembering—then glanced over her shoulder at Bruce, who was bringing up the rear, a massive obstacle Wyatt had put there to keep her from grabbing the boys at the last minute and making a break for it. Now that he knew Jack McKinley was the man Kate had expected to protect her, it was even more important to keep her behind high stone walls. Jack had already proved his willingness to kill for Dante D’Amato by eliminating a snitch.
“Mom, wait’ll you see this!” Lucky said from the aft section of the 550. “There’s a whole kitchen. And a bathroom with a counter and a mirror and a closet for clothes.”
“The kitchen on a plane is called the galley,” Wyatt said.
“Mom, come see the galley.” Lucky scampered back to grab Kate’s hand and tugged her all the way inside the plane, then got behind her and literally shoved her down the aisle so she could see the galley, which was designed for hot meal service. For the very short flight, Wyatt had stocked hot Papa John’s pizza and ice-cold Cokes for the kids and chilled Cristal Champagne he planned to offer Kate.
“Lucky, look!” Chance exclaimed as he spotted several screens mounted near a tabletop. “A computer! And a DVD player!”
Lucky pounded back down the center aisle between the couch and a row of two facing seats with a table between them, to the front of the jet. He looked up at Wyatt, his blue eyes bright with excitement, and said, “Do you have any games we could play or movies we could see, Mr. Shaw?”
“I have both,” Shaw said. “They’re in that cupboard.” Wyatt pointed to a cupboard built in along the wall near the tabletop above which the DVD screen was mounted. “I think there might be a few movies in there you’d like.” He’d picked them out himself, based on what he remembered liking as a kid and what the reviewers said were appropriate movies for young children.
The two boys dropped to the carpeted floor, yanked open the cupboard door and riffled through the games and DVDs.
Wyatt was entranced by their exuberance. He glanced up and met Kate’s stark gaze at the opposite end of the plane. He saw the flicker of panic in her eyes and followed her gaze to where Bruce was locking the door to the Gulfstream, barring Kate’s last avenue of escape before they landed at the private airstrip near his compound north of Houston.
“Folks, we’re cleared for takeoff,” the pilot drawled over the intercom in a thick East Texas accent. “Please take your seats and buckle your seat belts.”
The twins ignored the announcement.
“You boys need to buckle in so we can take off,” Wyatt said, tapping each boy on the shoulder. “The pilot will let us know when it’s safe to move around again.”
The twins each had a handful of DVDs when they stood.
“I’ll hold those for you.” Wyatt held out both hands.
Lucky looked to his mother, who nodded, before he handed over his loot. Chance followed suit. Wyatt stowed the DVDs they’d selected in an overhead compartment.
“Where should we sit?” Lucky asked Wyatt.
“I want you both where I can see you,” Kate said, pointing to facing seats on the same side of the plane as the couch. Each boy grabbed one of the seats on opposite sides of a table and reached for the seat belt. Kate helped Chance, while Wyatt helped Lucky.
Kate shot him an aggravated look but didn’t say anything.
She took a seat across from the twins. Wyatt took the seat opposite her, with a table separating them.
Bruce headed to the back of the plane, where he sat on one of the four club seats around what would be the dining table near the galley.
Wyatt tried to meet Kate’s gaze, but she turned her face toward the boys and ignored him. She’d barely spoken a word since he’d given his ultimatum at her home, except to explain to the boys that they were going on a little vacation. Which suited him fine. At least she wasn’t saying or doing anything to make Lucky and Chance dislike him.
Once they were at altitude, he got the boys settled watching WALL-E, where they were quickly engrossed. Bruce was in the galley fixing plates of pizza and handed Wyatt a can of soda for each of the boys.
Kate stepped into the aisle and intercepted him close to the galley. “I don’t allow them to have carbonated beverages.”
Wyatt grimaced. “What do they drink?”
“Water. Or lemonade, if you have that.”
“It’ll have to be water. Even with pizza?” he asked.
“Water is the perfect beverage, Mr. Shaw.”
He set the Coke cans down on a nearby table and stuck his hands on his hips. “Mr. Shaw?”
She flushed. Her voice was low and intense and full of resentment. “How about Mr. Kidnapper? That fits.”
“Look who’s talking,” he shot back, keeping his voice equally low, fighting the rage that rose every time he thought of all the years he’d lost with his sons. “You’re the one who kept my children hidden from me.”
She didn’t excuse herself again. Or argue the point. “What am I supposed to call you?”
“Wyatt. It’s my name. Or Shaw, if it suits you.”
“All right, Shaw. There, is that better?”
“Much. And I’d like my sons to call me something besides Mr. Shaw.”
“Please, Shaw, don’t tell them you’re their father,” she pleaded. “Not yet. They’re too young to understand all of this.”
“I don’t want the twins upset or frightened any more than you do. I can wait.”
“Thank you.”
He saw another flash of resentment before she lowered her gaze. Before he could express the resentment he was feeling at her resentment, she raised her eyes to his and said, “Why not have them call you Shaw, too, without the mister?”
He supposed that was a good compromise. “All right,” he said grudgingly. At least until they knew the truth. By then he hoped they would want to call him Dad or Papa or Daddy. Because he was planning to spend the rest of his life being their father.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said to Kate, indicating one of two seats on either side of the table near the galley. He waited until she sat, then traded the Cokes for bottled water, crossed back to the boys, took off the caps and dropped the bottles into the recessed glass holders on each side of the table between them.
“Pizza’s ready, Boss,” Bruce called from the galley.
Kate rose. “Can I help?”
“Bruce and I can handle it,” Wyatt said, returning down the aisle and putting a hand on her shoulder to encourage her to sit again.
She jerked away from his touch, crying out as she hit her hip against the table.
Lucky turned around in his seat. “Mom, are you all right?”
“Just bumped into the table,” she called back in a falsely cheerful voice.
Wyatt was amazed that the boy was so aware of his mother. Not nearly so surprised that Kate had kept her injury from her sons. She was still obviously in pain, holding her lower lip in her teeth to keep from crying out again.
“You’re hurt,” he said softly.
She shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
He glanced at the spot on her hip she was rubbing gently with her fingertips. He could remember what that exact spot of skin near her hipbone looked like. He’d kissed it. And caressed it.
He met her gaze and saw from the troubled look in her eyes that she remembered, too. She shook her head as though to deny what she was feeling. Or perhaps to warn him that she had no intention of letting what had happened between them once happen ever again.
She sank back down, but he could feel her eyes on him as he headed the few extra steps to the galley to get the plates of pizza Bruce had prepared for the boys.
He wondered if Kate would be more amenable to the idea of him being a father to Lucky and Chance if she knew that he intended to spend the rest of his life with her as his wife.
Probably not.
Everything she’d said or done had made it clear that the sooner she was shed of Wyatt Shaw, the better. So how was he supposed to woo her? How was he supposed to win her heart?
Especially when he’d been accused of murder.
He wondered what she would do if he told her who he believed had actually strangled the woman found dead in his bed.
Likely call him a liar.
Until he found enough evidence to cast a giant shadow on that other party, he was going to remain the prime suspect in a murder investigation. So he could understand how she might be leery of him. He was ready for the fight he knew was coming when she realized what their sleeping arrangements were going to be at his ranch.
“How did you know pepperoni’s my favorite, Mr. Shaw?” Lucky asked.
“It was a ‘Lucky’ guess,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. Amazing what a little detective work of his own had turned up about his sons. “And you can call me Shaw, without the Mister.”
Lucky pointed with his pizza, which he’d picked up in his hands and said, “Oh, I get it. A ‘Lucky’ guess. Very funny, Shaw.” He glanced at his mother and said, “That’s all right, Mom, isn’t it? He told me I could just call him Shaw.”
“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Kate said.
Her voice sounded choked to Wyatt, and when he looked, he saw tears had brimmed in her eyes. What was that all about?
“You’re missing the movie,” Chance warned his brother.
Wyatt crossed back to Kate and said, “Hungry?”
“I think if I ate anything right now I’d throw up.”
“How about something bubbly to settle your stomach,” he suggested.
“Club soda sounds good.”
He smiled wryly. “I was thinking of a glass of champagne.”
She looked at him stony-faced and said, “I can think of nothing—nothing—about this moment I want to celebrate.”
He leaned down and said through tight jaws, “There were two of us in that bed. You were as much responsible as I was for what happened there. We became parents that night. And you are not going to make me feel guilty for wanting to be a father to my sons!”
He stood up and said, “Bruce, pop open that bottle of champagne.” When he looked down, he saw her eyes were once more brimmed with tears. He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and said, “I feel like celebrating.”
8
The impressively high river-rock walls that separated Wyatt Shaw’s ranch compound from the outside world were every bit as daunting as Kate had feared they would be. Her sons seemed not to notice when the beautiful black wrought iron electric gates, with the elaborate S in the center, closed behind them.
Lucky and Chance sat on either side of Shaw in the black stretch limousine that had picked them up at his private airfield, talking a mile a minute as they quizzed him about what he had planned for their “vacation.”
“I have a stable full of horses,” she heard him tell the boys. “But we can have your horses—”
“Big Doc,” Lucky interjected.
“And Little Doc,” Chance supplied.
She watched Shaw smile indulgently as he finished, “Big Doc and Little Doc can be trailered here from San Antonio by tomorrow, if you’d rather ride your own mounts.”
“You’d do that? Really?” Lucky asked.
“Of course,” Shaw said.
As though it cost nothing to trailer a couple of quarter horses halfway across the state. It was nothing to a wealthy man like Shaw, Kate realized.
“Can we bring our dog here, too?” Lucky asked.
“And our cat?” Chance added.
Shaw glanced quickly at Kate. “You have a dog and a cat?”
“We got them for our birthday last year,” Lucky said. “We had them with us at Jack’s ranch while Mom was in the hospital. Jack’s mom and dad, Uncle Frank and Aunt Rose, have been taking care of them for us. Harley and Scratch were supposed to come home this weekend. They must be missing us like crazy—”
“Because we’re missing them,” Chance finished for his brother. “Please say they can come stay with us here.”
“I don’t see why that couldn’t be arranged,” Shaw said. “If it’s all right with your mother.”
“She doesn’t mind, do you, Mom?” Lucky said.
“She loves Harley and Scratch,” Chance said.
“Harley and Scratch?” Shaw repeated, eyeing Kate dubiously.
“Harley’s our black Lab,” Lucky said. “He runs really fast, like our dad’s Harley-Davidson motorcycle.”
“And Scratch…” Chance exchanged a chagrined look with Lucky, then glanced up at Shaw. “Well, you can guess how she got her name.”
Shaw laughed. “I can’t wait to meet them.”
Kate was beginning to understand there was far greater danger in having her sons spend time with Shaw than she’d ever imagined. He was going to spoil them rotten by giving them anything and everything their hearts desired. Including the attention from a father figure they were soaking up right now like sunshine.
He was going to make them love him.
They were never going to want to leave.
Several times since this journey had started, Kate had contemplated grabbing the twins and running as far and as fast as she could. But even now, the giant who’d introduced himself as the children’s bodyguard followed in a smaller black limo behind them. There was no escape from this nightmare.
At least, not yet. She wrapped her hand around the cell phone in her Levi’s pocket. She’d secretly tucked it there when she was packing. As soon as she had a moment alone, she was going to call Jack and tell him everything.
He would understand. And he would help her…if he could. Kate wasn’t sure how Jack’s undercover assignment was going to affect his ability to intervene. Especially in light of the fact the twins were Wyatt Shaw’s biological sons.
She and her sons were captives for the moment, but Shaw wasn’t going to be able to keep them behind these walls for long. The boys had to go to school. And Shaw had promised she could work. There would be opportunities for escape.
It might take some planning, but Wyatt Shaw would discover that she had weapons of her own with which to fight the war between them. Her grandfathers would help her. And her father and mother. And Jack would be there for her…when he wasn’t taking care of his wife and son.
Kate felt sick. Did she dare bring the wrath of Wyatt Shaw down on her family? Or on Jack?
Maybe the best thing to do was wait Shaw out. Being a father was a novelty right now. How would he react if the two little boys got sick all over his carpet or were cranky because they were feverish? He might not find it so much fun playing parent when the twins turned stubborn and defiant. How would he respond if they were mischievous? Or downright mean to him? All of which she’d experienced with her sons in their short lives.
Once Shaw realized what being a parent was really all about, he might be as anxious to be rid of the twins as he’d been to have them come and live with him.
She could always hope.
The limo rolled to a stop in front of a sprawling, single-story house with white adobe walls and a red, barrel-tiled roof. Shaw’s home was half-hidden by flowering bougainvillea and draped by gnarled live oaks that provided cool shade from the hot Texas sun.
Kate looked for windows, but didn’t see any. She felt her heartbeat ratchet up. How could anyone bear to live in a place so shut off from the light? She would feel suffocated in a house like that.
A barrel-chested man in a long-sleeved plaid, western-cut shirt, worn blue jeans and cowboy boots opened the door to the limo and stood back as Shaw got out, the boys tumbling after him. Her sons headed straight for the German shepherd sitting beside him.
Kate’s heart was in her throat, afraid the large dog would snap at them. When Shaw reached a hand back inside for her, she took it as the fastest way to get out of the limo.
“Be careful!” she warned the boys.
“Wolf won’t hurt ’em, ma’am,” the heavyset man said.
Despite his dangerous-sounding name, the dog sat unruffled as her sons “oohed” and “aahed” and ran their hands over his furred head and back.
“This is Micah,” Shaw said, introducing the man to Kate. “He takes care of the house. He’s a terrific cook.”
“Good to see you, Boss.” The hired man turned to Kate and said, “You need anything at all, ma’am, just let me know.”
“Thank you,” Kate said.
Micah excused himself to help Bruce with their bags, which were in the trunk of the second limo. Wolf rose and followed him.
“Let’s go inside,” Shaw said to the twins. “I’ll show you your rooms.”
As though it was the most natural thing in the world, he slid an arm around Kate’s waist and headed down the winding walkway that led to the front door. She went with him willingly, because her other choice was to make a scene in front of her sons.
The boys hop-skipped on the lush lawn beside Shaw to keep up with his long strides.
“You said rooms, Shaw,” Lucky pointed out. “Does that mean I don’t have to share a room with Chance?”
“Is that all right with you?” Shaw asked.
“It sure is!” Lucky backpedaled beside Kate as he crowed, “Mom, I’m gonna have a room of my own!”
“Me, too!” Chance shouted, running in circles on the lawn with his hands held out like an airplane.
Kate made a distressed sound that Shaw must have heard because he leaned close and said, “Any reason why that isn’t a good idea? I just thought—”
“It’s a fine idea,” she snapped. “Any other wishes you plan to fulfill while we’re here?”
“As many as I can,” he snapped back. “I’ve got a lot of making up to do, as you well know.”
“You’re going to spoil them, Shaw.”
“By giving them their own rooms?”
“And bringing their horses and their dog and their cat here.”
“That doesn’t sound like a hell of a lot,” he said. “I would have liked to be the one to give them their first horse. Or their first dog.”
“Or their first cat?”
“I hate cats.”
Kate couldn’t help it. She laughed.
“What’s so funny, Mom?” Lucky asked.
“I tickled your mother’s funny bone,” Shaw said.
“I know Mom’s really ticklish in the ribs,” Chance said. “I didn’t know she had a funny bone. Where is it?”
She looked helplessly at Shaw and laughed harder. It beat the heck out of crying.
Shaw chuckled. “I’ll show you sometime.” He opened the door to his home and gestured his sons inside.
Kate saw why there were no windows on the outside. The interior walls in the U-shaped house were made of windows that brought the outdoors inside. The patio in the center of the courtyard was shaded by a giant oak and graced with a waterfall burbling over stones into a pond dotted with blooming white water lilies.
Kate watched her sons move through Shaw’s earth-toned bachelor living room, past the saddle-leather, man-size chairs and the plush, man-length couch, both situated in front of a stone fireplace that ran up to the cathedral ceiling, as though they were bird dogs hunting down the scent of a covey of quail.
They touched everything, the odd-shaped lamps, the Hopi Indian dolls, the pillows on the couch, letting their curiosity take them from item to item. They scuffed their feet across the colorfully patterned rug.
She waited for Shaw to tell them to back off, not to handle this, to leave that alone. But he said nothing. She searched his face, trying to discern what he was feeling. But he had his emotions well contained.
When the boys finally headed down a wide hallway off the living room, he followed them as though he were attached by an invisible string. She thought he might have forgotten she was there, so entranced was he with his sons.
She stood bemused for a moment, wondering if she should follow him or stay where she was.
He returned to the doorway and said, “The bedrooms are down this hall.”
He waited for her, and she was grateful the hallway was wide enough for her to walk beside him without touching. She saw the boys had stopped and waited for him.
“Which room is mine?” Lucky asked.
“Which one is mine?” Chance asked.
“This is yours,” he said to Lucky, pointing through a doorway. “And this is yours,” he said to Chance, indicating the doorway next to it.
At first Kate thought there was a mirror in the wall between the two rooms. Then she realized that a double door had been cut in the wall between the two rooms, and that they were mirror images of each other. The boys could shut the door between their rooms for privacy, or leave it open if they wanted to play together.
While Kate watched, the two boys met in the doorway, then turned and grinned at Shaw, acknowledging the perfect beauty of the connecting doorway. Then they turned again to explore their separate rooms, which each held a twin bed, an end table and lamp and a desk with a computer. Flatscreen TVs hung on the wall of each boy’s room, with a DVD player on a table beneath it stacked with many of the same movies she’d seen on the plane.
Kate smelled fresh paint. “When did you do all this?”
“I had a doorway cut between the rooms the day I found out about the twins.”
Kate felt a shiver run down her spine. He’d planned this moment. He’d intended to have his sons living here. This was no vacation he’d organized for them. This was forever.
Kate glanced up at Shaw and at last saw some of the emotions he’d been so careful to hide. Triumph. And satisfaction.
“I hope my room is near the boys.” So she could grab them when the time came and make her escape.
“You’re sleeping in here.” He opened the door to the room at the end of the hall and waited for her to enter.
Kate’s heart skipped a beat when she realized he’d invited her into what was clearly his bedroom. A mystery novel lay half-read facedown on the end table. A picture of a woman with a young boy who she thought might be Shaw and his mother sat atop the chest of drawers. A shiny pair of black lizard cowboy boots, one a fallen soldier, sat at the base of a wardrobe.
“What is this?” she demanded.
“Didn’t I mention it? You’ll be sleeping with me.”
9
When the boys began to bicker, Kate knew they were finally exhausted from the excitement of the day.
“Time for bed,” she said.
“Aw, Mom,” Chance said.
“I’m not tired,” Lucky argued.
“Showers. Now.”
“Do we have to, Shaw?” Lucky asked.
Kate was incensed that her son was looking to a stranger for permission. “Yes, you have to,” she said sharply.
“You heard your mother,” Shaw said.
Kate realized it wasn’t until Shaw confirmed her demand that her sons obeyed her and trotted off to take showers in the bathroom across the hall. “I can handle this,” she told Shaw, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.
“Let me stay.”
He didn’t plead, just stood there looking vulnerable. And virile. She knew she was being a fool. He was manipulating her again, using her soft heart against her. She put herself in his shoes and imagined what it would be like to discover you had two children you’d never known existed. How you’d want to be a part of everything they did from now on. It would take someone more cruel than she was to exclude him.
But that meant she was going to have to share the bedtime ritual she performed each night with her sons. She fought back the jealousy she felt. Her sons craved a father, and Jack had taken himself out of the picture for the next four months. She should be grateful Shaw was willing to step into the role.
“All right. Stay,” she said.
“What should I do?”
She was amazed that a man as powerful as Wyatt Shaw could look so helpless. She retrieved a pair of boy’s white briefs and a set of Batman pajamas out of the overnight bag she’d brought and handed them to him. “When Lucky comes out of the shower, dry him off and put these on him.”
It occurred to her suddenly that Shaw might not know which twin was Lucky. She hadn’t yet heard him address either one by name. She eyed him askance, wondering whether he would be able to tell which twin was which, since they were truly identical physically.
A moment later, the boys came running into the bedroom, naked and shrieking, towels flying behind them, tracking wet footprints on the tile floor.
Shaw turned to her, scowling, and said, “You had them circumcised?”
Kate had a sudden vision of a naked Shaw, who wasn’t. J.D. had insisted on it. Flustered, she said, “Yes. And it’s too late to undo it now. So live with it!”
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Joan Johnston
Nine years ago Kate Grayhawk Pendelton walked into Wyatt Shaw's life–and out of it the next morning. Now Wyatt's back–and has the power to shatter Kate's future with the man she loves.By reputation, Wyatt Shaw is a brutal killer who always gets what he wants. And he wants Kate and her twin eight-year-old sons.Texas Ranger Jack McKinley is hot on Wyatt Shaw's trail. The presumed heir to the D'Amato crime syndicate is threatening to steal the woman he loves.Holly McKinley is fighting to keep Jack from leaving her for another woman. Now the secret she's kept for over twenty years may save their son's life, and cost her the only man she's ever loved.
Praise for the novels Joan Johnston
“Johnston’s characters struggle against seriously deranged foes and face seemingly insurmountable obstacles to true love.”
—Booklist
“Johnston warms your heart and tickles your fancy.”
—New York Daily News
“Complex and suspenseful.”
—RT Book Reviews on A Stranger’s Game
“Johnston rivets the reader.”
—Bookreporter.com
“Timely subject matter, strong plotting, and a quick pace.”
—RT Book Reviews on Outcast
“Romance devotees will find Johnston lively and well-written, and her characters perfectly enchanting.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Joan Johnston continually gives us everything we want…a story that you wish would never end, and lots of tension and sensuality.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Joan Johnston [creates] unforgettable subplots and characters who make every fine thread weave into a touching tapestry.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“A guaranteed good read.”
—New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham
Shattered
A Bitter Creek Novel
Joan Johnston
www.mirabooks.co.uk (http://www.mirabooks.co.uk)
Great editors are a precious gift.
This book is dedicated to my editor,
Linda McFall.
Contents
Prologue (#u15d66904-0641-558d-9497-581a2ee4c40b)
Chapter 1 (#u1c9d9ca3-0caf-5104-abfc-085e21af3b05)
Chapter 2 (#u09a96568-84cf-5ef3-a3b9-1f61cde93ab3)
Chapter 3 (#ud9df3c92-6afa-5114-8d30-d461894f8288)
Chapter 4 (#u2797a4de-1299-572c-83d0-f0a1582ca718)
Chapter 5 (#u6fc40e2a-ce56-53d4-bf6b-c06d8e85cb74)
Chapter 6 (#u3e8dd49d-6231-5192-9c64-a24c1e11080d)
Chapter 7 (#uea8443ae-9457-5c15-a7e4-4c55312794ea)
Chapter 8 (#uf0d029a3-1f53-5f39-9781-37a40858e6c9)
Chapter 9 (#ufc7bc7ad-ca30-56c9-8ec1-a6a003f84683)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 41 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 42 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 43 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 44 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 45 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 46 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgments (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
“What else have you lied about?”
Kate Grayhawk Pendleton wished she could simply walk away from the imposing older woman dressed in a black St. John knit suit and Chanel tuxedo heels standing across from her. Unfortunately, she was still bedridden after waking a week before from a fourmonth-long coma.
She readjusted the pillows behind her on the hospital bed, then tugged awkwardly at her cotton hospital gown. She needed time to decide how she was going to answer the angry question posed by her mother-in-law, Texas governor and presidential hopeful Ann Wade Pendleton.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kate said warily.
“I’m asking who you bedded down with after you married my son. I’m asking who got you pregnant, because it sure as hell wasn’t J.D.”
“What makes you say such a thing?” Kate replied. “Lucky and Chance—”
“Are somebody else’s brats. Don’t bother lying. While you were in that coma, Lucky injured himself on a broken window and needed a transfusion. The twins’ blood type proves they aren’t my son’s children.”
Kate blanched. She’d kept her secret for nine long years. She hadn’t told a single soul that her eightyear-old twin sons, Lucky and Chance, had been conceived with a man who was not her husband.
“If I’m going to get myself chosen by the party as the next Republican presidential nominee, I need to know what bats might come flying out of the belfry,” Ann Wade said, her voice as sharp and cold as ice. “I can’t afford to have some cretin come forward in the middle of my campaign and name himself as the father of my grandsons.”
Kate realized that Ann Wade wasn’t upset that she’d cheated on her husband. Wasn’t even upset that her grandsons possessed none of her blood. What had made Ann Wade so furious was the fear that Kate’s misstep might interfere with her political career.
Kate felt sick to her stomach.
She’d allied herself with the Pendleton family as a nineteen-year-old, still wincing from the stunning rejection she’d received from the man she really loved, Texas Ranger Jack McKinley. When Jack had married his high school sweetheart, J.D.’s admiration had been a balm for her wounded soul.
She’d looked at J.D. Pendleton with stars in her eyes. What she’d seen was a University of Texas football hero with wavy blond hair and striking blue eyes.
She hadn’t known J.D. was a man without honor, a spoiled child of privilege, who would cheat on her within a month of their wedding. Hadn’t known she was marrying a man who would fake his own death, desert his military post and flee to South America after blackmailing his own mother.
Kate pictured the twins’ biological father in her mind’s eye, a tall, rangy man with silver-streaked black hair and steel-gray eyes. Remembered exactly how and why she’d gone to bed with him.
She felt her face flush anew with the hurt and humiliation she’d felt on that long-ago night when she’d caught her husband in their hotel room with another woman in flagrante delicto and he’d told her, “Get the fuck out! Can’t you see I’m busy?”
In a daze, her chest aching, she’d taken the elevator downstairs to the bar at the Austin, Texas, Four Seasons. She’d walked up to a perfect stranger, taken his large hand in hers and said, “Come with me.” She’d led him to the registration desk and said, “We need a room.”
He’d supplied his black American Express card and took the key card the pretty desk clerk handed him. As they’d walked away he’d asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
He’d been gentle and tender, more so than J.D. ever had. She’d been embittered and impassioned. The sex had been excoriating. She’d cried for half an hour in his arms afterward as he smoothed her long black hair behind her ears and kissed her forehead.
She’d had to live the past nine years with the consequences of her rash act of defiance. She’d never told her lover that he’d become a father that night. It wasn’t until she’d seen him on Channel 12 News that she’d realized who he was. And the horror that might haunt them all if the truth were ever known.
Kate felt her insides go cold. What if Ann Wade hired a private detective? The stranger had used a credit card to pay for the hotel room they’d used. Could it still be traced after all these years? The twins’ father might be exposed. The scandal would be enormous and devastating to her children, to her mother-in-law and to Jack McKinley, the man she had never stopped loving.
Finding the stranger she’d slept with wouldn’t be easy. Predicting his response to the knowledge he had two sons was even more difficult. And terrifying. Kate took the safe course, the only course she knew would keep her sons safe from harm. She looked her mother-in-law right in the eye and lied.
“I have no idea who the twins’ father is. He was someone I met in a bar. I can’t even remember what he looked like. You’d be wasting your time looking, because I doubt he can be found.”
Ann Wade arched a perfect brow. “I guess we’ll see about that.”
1
“Why are you here?”
Private Investigator Harry Dickenson felt a shiver roll down his spine at the sound of Wyatt Shaw’s quiet, raspy voice. Shaw stared at him from ruthless gray eyes, his lean, powerful body coiled behind a stone-and-glass desk, like a silent predator stalking unsuspecting prey.
Harry wondered if the rumors he’d heard were true. Was he alone with a brutal killer? Someone who’d, literally, gotten away with murder?
Harry’s blood felt like ice in his veins, despite the heat of the April sun streaming through a wall of windows. He was standing on the top floor of the newest, and by far grandest, Shaw Tower, a combination hotel, condominium and office building in downtown Houston, Texas. From his vertigo-inducing perch, Harry could see the far-reaching geographic boundaries of the city, nearly forty miles away.
It was hard to believe how much of that real estate was controlled by the indecently wealthy man sitting before him. Was it so wrong to want a little piece of that pie for himself? This was Harry’s first venture into extortion, and he was a little nervous. But he was certain Shaw would pay—and pay well—to learn the tantalizing secret he’d come here to sell.
Harry tried to meet Shaw’s piercing gaze as he made his demand for cash, but he couldn’t quite raise his eyes that last six inches. He focused instead on the crisp collar of Shaw’s white shirt, the smooth knot of his patterned blue silk tie and the lapels of his dark blue blended wool suit, as he said, “I have information of vital interest to you.”
“I’m listening,” Shaw said.
Harry saw a flicker of movement over his shoulder and realized they were no longer alone in Shaw’s office on the Tower’s 80th floor. He started as a man two or three inches taller than Wyatt’s reputed 6'4", and maybe fifty pounds heavier, stepped into his line of sight.
“You wanted me, Boss?” the man said, speaking to Shaw as though Harry wasn’t there.
Harry wondered how the gargantuan man in a cheap brown suit—who reminded him of the enforcers he’d seen in Mafia movies—had been summoned and realized Shaw must have hit some button on his desk. He thought back to the female secretary in the outer office. The older, benign-looking lady in a skirt that fell two inches below her knees and sensible pumps had made him feel perfectly safe coming into what he could now see was a cage of steel and glass from which there was no escape.
Harry licked at the sweat above his lip, recognized it for the anxious gesture it was and stiffened his spine. He was the best at what he did precisely because he didn’t allow himself to be intimidated.
Nevertheless, he felt his bowels shift in an instinctive animal response to mortal danger.
“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Shaw said to the big man he’d summoned. Then he fixed his steely gaze on Harry. “You were saying?”
Harry watched as the big man guarding the door, who had an ugly scar on his cheek and a crooked, manytimes-broken nose, took a pose that reminded him of a military man “at ease,” his meaty hands behind his back, his tree-trunk legs spread wide. The enforcer’s dark eyes, under heavy black brows, stayed focused on Harry as though he were some lower form of life, a bug this big man would like to squash.
Harry mentally shook his head. He was anticipating trouble where there might be none. Shaw had done nothing overtly threatening. It was the information Harry had dug up on the man sitting across from him that was scaring him shitless.
Harry fought the urge to turn tail and run. He chided himself again for letting his imagination run wild. Surely Shaw would be grateful to hear what Harry had discovered, even if he was also shocked by the revelation.
“I want your agreement to pay before I tell you what I know.”
Harry waited for Shaw to ask what it was or how much he wanted or refuse to pay or say something that would give him an idea where to go from there. He’d never suspected, when Governor Pendleton had hired him to hunt down the biological father of her daughter-in-law’s twin sons, that his search would lead him to this enigmatic man.
He’d brought a picture of Lucky and Chance, in case Shaw asked to see them. The boys had blue eyes and black hair like their mother, Kate Pendleton. And were long and lanky, with square chins, strong noses and high cheekbones like their father, Wyatt Shaw.
Harry hadn’t believed his luck when he’d finally stumbled on the truth. The governor had mentioned a reunion her son and Kate had attended in Austin at the Four Seasons. The trip would have been around the time of the twins’ conception, nine years ago. Shaw hadn’t been as well-known then, but the brand-new receptionist at the hotel, who’d taken his American Express card at the Austin, Texas, Four Seasons that fateful night, had become the current manager of the hotel.
The incident had remained fixed in her mind because it was the first of the new Centurion Cards—a black AMEX card with supposedly unlimited credit—she’d ever seen, and it had been handed to her by an extraordinarily good-looking young man with silver wings in his black hair.
The manager told him that when she’d recognized Wyatt Shaw with his infamous father on TV less than a year later, she’d marveled at how close she’d come to flirting with a dangerous criminal. She’d admitted to being jealous, that long-ago evening, of the strikingly beautiful woman holding the handsome man’s hand.
And yes, she’d confirmed, the lady in the photo Harry had shown her was the same woman Wyatt Shaw had taken with him on the elevator to the penthouse suite he’d booked.
Harry had quickly realized he’d stumbled onto a gold mine. He could get paid again and again to keep his mouth shut about the information he’d discovered: Mob Boss Dante D’Amato’s bastard son, Wyatt Shaw, was the father of Texas Governor Ann Wade Pendleton’s grandsons.
Governor Pendleton, who’d hired him, would pay, of course. He could also sell his willing silence to the twins’ very wealthy great-grandfathers, who’d probably fork over a hunk of money to keep the world from knowing who their granddaughter had screwed while she’d been married to another man.
Jackson Blackthorne, Kate Pendleton’s paternal grandfather, owned a ranch the size of Vermont in South Texas called Bitter Creek. Kate’s maternal grandfather, King Grayhawk, owned an equally impressive ranch called Kingdom Come in Wyoming, where he served as that state’s governor. The two men were lifelong enemies, a fact Harry was sure he could use to his advantage.
The mind boggled at what the tabloids might pay for such juicy gossip.
In the end, Harry had decided that the man who stood to gain the most—the knowledge that he had eight-year-old twin sons—was the man who’d be willing to pay the most. So even before he told Governor Pendleton what he knew, or approached either of Kate’s influential grandfathers, or phoned the first tabloid magazine, he’d come here to confront Shaw.
Considering the menacing man standing just inside the door, and the even more dangerous one sitting behind the desk, Harry knew he was walking a tightrope over an abyss.
Greed gave him the courage to take the next step.
Harry glanced at the hulking figure by the door, and said, “I want half a million.”
The demand was met by silence.
Harry struggled not to fidget while he waited for Shaw to speak. He’d thought long and hard about how much he could ask Shaw to pay. He’d dreamed of a million, but realized if he got half of that, with what he’d already saved, he could buy a small fishing boat and a condo on the gulf near Corpus Christi and be set for the rest of his life. With a net worth over half a billion, half a million was a drop in the bucket for Shaw.
“I’m sure whatever it is you think you know isn’t worth that kind of money,” Shaw replied at last.
“This information has nothing to do with your…uh…business activities.” Harry had nearly said illegal business activities. The U.S. Justice Department had been unable to prove Shaw had ill-gotten gains under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations (RICO) Act, although they’d taken him to court at least once to try. And the Houston cops hadn’t yet found enough evidence—despite the woman found strangled in Shaw’s bed six weeks ago—to charge him with murder.
Wyatt Shaw seemed to walk between raindrops.
But Harry knew the rich man’s life hadn’t always been so blessed.
His mother had been Dante D’Amato’s mistress until her death, under suspicious circumstances, when Shaw was twelve. The child born on the wrong side of the blanket, so to speak, had succeeded so spectacularly that the government—read FBI—refused to believe he’d done it without help from the mob.
Harry was pretty sure the Feds monitored every dollar in and out of Shaw’s many business activities, looking for enough evidence to bring down his empire. Which only convinced Harry that Shaw would know how to pay him the half mil without raising any red flags for the IRS.
“Has to be a woman,” Shaw said in disgust. “What is she claiming?”
Harry had expected the dismissive look on Shaw’s face. The man had never been married and didn’t have a steady girlfriend, though there was no shortage of women in his life. Harry had discovered from a lady lawyer Shaw briefly dated that he always took precautions to ensure there was no unwanted child.
Which made Harry wonder if the dead woman found in Shaw’s penthouse suite might have been pregnant. And trying to extort money from Shaw. As he was.
Harry shuddered. The medical examiner’s report on the murder victim hadn’t been released to the public yet, and Harry’s usual connection in the M.E.’s office had been too spooked to leak it to him. Which meant anything was possible.
Harry’s investigation also revealed that Shaw usually bedded his dates in his—now infamous—penthouse at the Shaw Tower, or an equivalent locale. Not one of them had been to his personal retreat, a ranch compound north of Houston.
Ancient live oaks, which never completely shed their leaves, kept the structures within Shaw’s compound hidden from Google Earth. But from county records, Harry knew Shaw had built a modest, four-bedroom home, stables large enough to hold a dozen sleek quarter horses and on-site housing, a sort of bunkhouse, for his security team. To guarantee his privacy, Shaw had surrounded the compound with eight-foot-high river-rock walls.
His isolated compound—and his isolated lifestyle—made a powerful statement: Shaw lived a life without strings, a life without human connections. So Harry expected him to resist the idea that he had twin sons, maybe even to dismiss Harry’s suggestion as ridiculous.
Luckily, Harry had proof. DNA results made it 99.9 percent certain that Shaw was the twins’ father.
“Who sent you here?” Shaw asked.
“I want your promise to pay before I say anything more.”
“You’d take my word?” Shaw said cynically, lifting a brow.
Harry shrugged. “You have a reputation for sticking by it in business deals.” Which this was. Sort of.
“Bruce, escort this man from the premises.”
“Wait!” Harry reached into his jacket and found his wrist handcuffed by Bruce’s gigantic hand. How had the big man moved so fast? “I don’t have a weapon,” Harry babbled, afraid the monster was going to crush his bones. “There are papers in my jacket. And a photo.”
“Let him go,” Shaw said.
With a shaking hand, Harry pulled out the papers he’d been reaching for, which had been folded in his suit coat pocket. They rustled as he unfolded them and took the few steps forward to lay them on Shaw’s desk.
Shaw spread the papers apart and stared at them, his brow furrowed. “This looks like—”
“It’s the results of a DNA test,” Harry interrupted. “You can see that the first chart matches the second two almost exactly.”
“The second two?”
“You have twin eight-year-old sons,” Harry blurted.
Shaw’s brows arrowed down and his lips pressed flat.
Harry was afraid to breathe, waiting for Shaw to deny paternity despite the DNA results. He expected the businessman to ask how Harry had gotten his DNA. It had been easy, since the man ate most of his meals in restaurants. A fork he’d eaten from, a glass he’d drunk from, was all Harry had needed.
Instead, Shaw said, “Who’s the mother?”
Harry licked his lips. “Half a million.”
Shaw nodded curtly.
“Her name is Kate Grayhawk Pendleton. She’s the governor’s daughter-in-law. She lives in San Antonio.” He laid a 4"x6" photograph beside the DNA results on the table. It showed the smiling mother standing between her identical grinning sons, one slender arm resting on each boy’s narrow shoulder.
Harry watched several emotions flicker in Wyatt Shaw’s narrowed gaze, none of which were pleasant. The expected shock. Anger. Disgust. And then, a great deal more anger.
“Her husband?” Shaw asked.
“She was widowed eighteen months ago. Her husband died serving in Afghanistan.”
Harry was glad for the husband’s sake that he was dead. And he wouldn’t have wanted to be in the woman’s shoes when Shaw caught up to her. For half a million, he figured he owed Shaw a heads-up on the woman’s current situation. After all, the businessman had been back and forth to China a dozen times over the past six months and might not have kept up with the local news.
“Mrs. Pendleton was shot last October by that assassin trying to kill the governor. She was in a coma for four months and spent about six weeks in a rehab facility. She seems to have come out of it just fine. She went home ten days ago.”
“Tell my secretary where you want the money wired,” Shaw said through tight jaws.
Harry couldn’t believe it had been that easy. Couldn’t believe Shaw was actually going to pay.
Then he saw Shaw’s glance slide to Bruce, watched his chin drop the littlest bit, sending some kind of message to the big man. Harry felt the sudden urge to run. For a moment he was frozen, like a frightened rabbit, panting for breath.
Then he made his move.
His eyes darted from Shaw to the big man as he hurriedly backed his way out of the office, leaving the test results and the photograph on the glass in front of Shaw, letting the heavy wooden door slide silently closed behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, alarmed to see Bruce pass through the same door a few seconds later.
Harry paused at the secretary’s desk long enough to say, “I’ll give you a call and let you know where to wire the money.”
She didn’t ask “What money?” She must be used to business deals made on a handshake. Or in this case, a chin nod.
Harry hustled to the elevator, pushed the button and was relieved when the doors opened as though the elevator always waited on the 80th floor for Shaw. He stepped inside and pushed the button for the ground floor.
He felt his breath catch when he realized Bruce was headed for the same elevator. He stabbed the “Door Close” button several times. And breathed a sigh of relief when it began to close.
Several thick-knuckled fingers appeared between the nearly closed doors and they opened again. Bruce got on the elevator with Harry and stood facing the door, his hefty arms crossed over his substantial girth.
Harry felt his heartbeat ratchet up, felt the blood pound in his temples, and realized he hadn’t taken his blood pressure meds that morning. Hell, hadn’t taken them for a couple of days. He tried to calm himself, afraid he was going to have a heart attack. Or stroke out.
The elevator didn’t stop once on the way down, even though Harry prayed that it would pick up another passenger. It raced past thirty floors of offices, twenty-four floors of condominiums, twenty-one floors of hotel rooms (no thirteenth floor), the third floor hotel lobby, and the second floor boutiques, never once stopping.
He should have known Shaw would have a private express elevator. He managed not to pant, but he was having trouble catching his breath. He told himself he was being stupid. Big Bruce here hadn’t made a move toward him. In a few moments the elevator doors would open and he’d be safe.
Maybe he’d buy that beachfront property somewhere out of the country. He was just realizing how much fallout there might be once the governor realized what he’d done. Not to mention the girl’s two grandfathers.
Harry was out of the elevator the instant it stopped on the ground floor. The two-story-high glass-walled space was empty except for a black-suited guard behind a black granite desk who kept out the riffraff. Harry hurried past him.
Behind him, he heard the guard tell Bruce, “The Boss told me to remind you to take care of that business quietly.”
Harry felt a spurt of terror so great he nearly fainted. He should have known better than to try and extort money from a man like Shaw. He pushed his way through the revolving door, squinting against the glare of the sun off the mirrored building across the street. If he could just get outside onto the sidewalk, he’d be okay. He could see it was crowded with people.
As he left Shaw Tower, a gust of hot wind blew grit from the street into his eyes. He swiped at his stinging eyes and realized his face was dripping with sweat. He looked down and saw he’d sweated all the way through his suit jacket under his armpits. What the hell? He squirmed as a bead of sweat slid down between his shoulder blades. Oh, shit. That was a symptom of heart attack, wasn’t it? Profuse sweat?
Harry nearly giggled with hysteria. He was scaring himself to death. He had to control his panic or he was going to do Big Bruce’s job for him. He forced himself to walk more slowly. He glanced over his shoulder long enough to see that Bruce was still following him.
Harry was determined to put the width of the street between himself and Shaw’s enforcer. He weaved his way across tacky, sun-heated asphalt, in between honking downtown traffic, almost running by the time he got to the other side of the street. He realized Bruce was no longer behind him. The big man was still walking along the opposite sidewalk.
Harry heaved a quiet sigh of relief. He was done with his brief life of crime. It was too damned stressful. He put a hand to his heart, which was finally slowing down. He glanced once more at Big Bruce. Now he was talking on a cell phone.
Harry reached the corner and stepped off the curb, his gaze riveted on Bruce.
He heard a scream from the sidewalk catty-corner from him. His head jerked toward the sound. Harry saw a young woman, her eyes wide with horror, her hand urgently pointing to his right—in the opposite direction from where he’d last seen Big Bruce. Harry yanked his head back around to see what had frightened her. Adrenaline pumped into his veins, making his heart hurt so bad he put a hand to his chest.
As close as the truck was, Harry could see the rust on the metal grille, which rose as high as his shoulder. The driver had obviously run the red. Harry calculated the time it would take to get out of the way. And realized he was fucked.
In the final seconds before disaster struck, Harry’s gaze shot over his shoulder to Bruce. The big man was pocketing his phone. Harry’s head whipped back around as he heard the screech of brakes. Then the garbage truck hit him and he went flying.
2
Kate was expecting Jack McKinley, so she answered the knock at her door with a smile on her face. Her heart skipped a frightened beat when she saw who was standing there.
“You look surprised to see me.”
Kate felt a visceral response deep in her womb as she stared into Wyatt Shaw’s steel-gray eyes. Without wanting to, she remembered Shaw as she’d left him in the middle of the night, asleep amid tangled sheets, dark lashes lying soft on sharp cheekbones, rough beard shading the rugged planes and hollows of his face.
“May I come in?”
His raspy voice raised gooseflesh on her arms. He’d used that mesmerizing voice to murmur his approval as she caressed his powerful body, measuring the breadth of his shoulders with her palms and teasing the whorls of black hair on his chest with her fingertips.
He stood quietly at her front door, patiently awaiting her invitation to come inside. All his attention was focused on her, as it had been that long-ago night.
She tried to speak, to send him away, but her heart was caught in her throat. He’d been patient that night, too, coaxing her compliance. She’d been heartsick, feeling unloved and unlovely, a rejected woman seeking revenge against her husband.
Kate closed her eyes to shut out the too-vivid memories, but in her mind’s eye she saw the soft play of light and shadow on his face above her and the fierce look of desire in his eyes. She had never felt more cherished. She had never felt more loved.
“Are you all right?”
She opened her eyes, but it didn’t help. She’d kept the memories at bay for long years, but now that the flesh-and-blood man stood before her, they rushed back with frightening clarity.
She remembered most the urgency of his need. And how it had healed the hurt. The heady feeling as she realized this man craved her body as a dying man craves water in the desert. The soothing balm of his raspy voice as he extolled the pleasure he found in the petal softness of her skin. The laughter that tumbled from her lips as she reveled in the power of knowing he couldn’t get his fill of her. That he could never get enough. That he would always want to touch her, taste her, love her.
She would never forget the satisfied masculine sound in his throat as he’d felt how wet and ready she was for him. At his urging, she’d wrapped her long legs around his whipcord lean hips as he moved inside her. In the throes of passion, she’d gripped handfuls of his thick black hair, running her fingers through the silver wings at his temples that had made her guess his age as much older than he was.
He’d been only twenty-nine.
Which made him thirty-eight.
Her glance skipped to his mouth. She remembered bowed lips that had been soft to the touch, his first kiss so tender it had made her throat ache with unshed tears. There were no signs of softness in him now. His lips were pressed flat and bracketed by deep grooves. His eyes, deep-set and gray, reminded her of thunderous storm clouds.
Shaw hadn’t moved a muscle, hadn’t moved a hair, but she felt the threat of his presence, the threat of…his desire for her.
He was wearing a Savile Row suit that should have made him look civilized. Instead, she saw the tension beneath the masterfully tailored cloth, the power in corded sinew and bone. She felt her nipples peak as his nostrils flared, inhaling the scent of her like a stag in rut. Felt the blood fill her nether lips as she stared into heavy-lidded eyes that told her how much he wanted—needed—to be inside her.
She had to remind herself who he was. Yes, this was the stranger with whom she’d spent the most passionate night of her life. But Wyatt Shaw was also the son of mob boss Dante D’Amato. And a suspected murderer.
Her gaze skipped down to his long-fingered hands. Those hands had caressed her with infinite tenderness. Had they also strangled the woman found naked in his bed? It had only been six weeks since the sensational story had hit the tabloids. Billionaire businessman Wyatt Shaw was accused of murdering a call girl in his suite on the top floor of Shaw Tower.
A call girl?
That gave their night together an entirely new complexion. Had Shaw thought she was a call girl, too? Had she left before he’d put his money on the bedside table? Was the magical night she remembered merely one more sexual encounter with a call girl for him? Had she been lucky that long-ago night to escape with her life?
Kate was afraid to look back up into Shaw’s eyes, afraid the question—the accusation—would be there in her own.
Her knees felt rubbery, and she stiffened them. She glanced beyond Wyatt’s shoulder, searching the street for Jack’s SUV, hoping he would stay away until she could get rid of this apparition from her past, this stranger who’d ruined her sleep for far too many nights over the past nine years.
Kate shuddered at the thought of Texas Ranger Jack McKinley confronting Wyatt Shaw with his gun drawn. She didn’t want Jack killing the father of her sons. Or Wyatt killing the man she loved.
“We need to talk,” Shaw said.
“I don’t have anything to say to you.”
He lifted an arrogant brow that accused her of the terrible wrong she’d done him. But said nothing.
“You can’t have them.” Kate knew the instant the words came out of her mouth that she shouldn’t have spoken them.
“By them do you mean my sons?” he said, the sudden menace in his voice raising the hairs on her nape.
She tried to slam the door, but he was too fast for her. He simply caught the frame with his palm, waited until she let go, waited another moment until she stepped back, then strode inside and closed the wooden door with a quiet snick behind him.
She turned to face him in her tiny living room like a lioness defending her cubs, even though the twins were at school and wouldn’t be home for another hour. “You can’t have them. They’re mine.”
“And mine,” he said inexorably.
She could see that denial was futile. Somehow he’d found out the truth. “Who told you?”
“A private investigator hired by your mother-in-law.”
Kate groaned and lowered her face into her hands. She suddenly lifted her head and asked, “Does Ann Wade know?”
“I have no idea. The P.I. who contacted me was killed shortly after he left my office.”
Did you kill him? The words stuck in Kate’s throat. There was no sense asking, since he was unlikely to tell her if he had.
“When did you know the twins were mine?” he asked.
Kate felt a frisson of fear skitter down her spine. She had never been a good liar. The telltale pink blotches on her creamy skin always gave her away. But she was terrified of what the man standing in her living room might do if she told him she’d known within weeks of that fateful night that she’d gotten pregnant during their liaison.
The same day she’d gotten a positive result on a home pregnancy test, she’d seduced J.D., who’d gloated at how brief her sex boycott had been after she’d caught him in bed with another woman.
“You were a stranger I met in a bar,” she said to Shaw. “I didn’t know your name. I didn’t know how to contact you.”
“You didn’t answer the question,” he said, anger simmering in his eyes. “When did you know?”
“I couldn’t be sure my husband wasn’t the father,” she lied. And felt the sudden heat on her throat and cheeks.
His eyes narrowed. “It’s a simple question.”
Whenever she’d felt guilty over the years that she hadn’t sought out the stranger from the bar to tell him the truth, she’d reminded herself of the circumstances of their encounter. It was a night out of time.
She’d felt vindicated when she’d discovered who he was.
“What did you expect me to do when I found out I’d gotten pregnant while having sex with a perfect stranger?” A stranger accused of graft and corruption, of extortion and murder. And that was before a woman was found strangled to death in your bed.
His brows arrowed down at her admission that she’d known from the start what he’d just learned.
“You could have gone back to the hotel,” he said. “There were people there who knew me. You could have found me.”
“To what purpose?” she demanded. “I was married. For all I knew, you could have been married, too.”
“I wasn’t.”
“I didn’t know that. Besides, there was always the chance that my husband—”
“You’ve cheated me out of knowing my sons for eight years.”
Kate’s blue eyes flashed up at him. “I notice you never came looking for me!”
“I couldn’t find you. And not for want of trying.”
Kate was startled. He’d searched for her? Why? “Just because the sex was good—”
“The sex was fantastic. But that wasn’t why I came looking for you.”
Kate knew she’d regret asking, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Why, then?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now.”
Irritated by his reticence, she snapped, “So why are you here? What do you want?”
He met her gaze with annoying calm and said, “I want to meet my sons.”
“No.” Kate’s throat was tight with dread, but she forced herself to add, “They believe J.D.—my husband, who was killed serving in Afghanistan—was their father.”
“I don’t want my sons growing up without a father.”
As he had, Kate realized. The first time she’d seen Shaw on TV was the day he consoled Dante D’Amato on the steps of the federal courthouse in Houston after his two grown, legitimate sons had been killed by a car bomb. The mob boss was on trial for RICO-related offenses, and the reporter suggested that D’Amato’s sons had been murdered in an effort by underlings to wrench control of the mob from D’Amato’s powerful hands, in expectation that he would be convicted and go to prison.
When a roving TV reporter asked a grieving D’Amato who would take the roles in his business left vacant by his sons’ deaths, D’Amato slid his arm around Wyatt Shaw’s broad shoulders and said, “I have all the help I need right here.”
The news anchor at the station had explained that Shaw’s mother had been supported by D’Amato, who’d bought her a home in Houston, but they’d never been married. Thereby suggesting, without actually saying, that Wyatt Shaw was Dante D’Amato’s illegitimate son, and that he might be expected to take over the mob if his father was convicted.
The film clip that followed showed a grim-faced man with silver-winged black hair shoving his way through a crowd of reporters as he left the federal courthouse.
It was the man she’d picked up in the bar of the Four Seasons, a man passionate beyond her dreams and tender beyond belief.
Kate had blanched with horror at the discovery that she’d lain with a man who’d been accused, along with his mob boss father, of having business competitors maimed and murdered. She’d followed the trial on TV. Neither Shaw nor his father had been convicted. The witnesses had all recanted or disappeared.
The pictures Kate had seen in the tabloid newspapers of that poor strangled woman had put an end to her romantic fantasies about the stranger with whom she’d spent a precious night of lovemaking.
She’d viciously squelched the memories that arose whenever she compared that single night of passion to sex with J.D. She’d comforted herself with the knowledge that her husband might be a selfish lover and a womanizer, but at least he wasn’t a criminal.
Or so she’d thought.
“You don’t have to worry about Lucky and Chance growing up without a father,” she told Shaw. “I’m involved with someone. I love him very much, and we’re going to be married.” She was certain Jack wouldn’t mind if she stretched the truth in a good cause. They hadn’t discussed marriage yet, but she was sure it was only a matter of time before they did.
Jack’s divorce would be final within the next month. And J.D. was…no longer in the picture.
“Since I’m going to be married,” Kate began, “I—”
Shaw was already shaking his head. “No, you’re not.”
“You can’t stop me!”
“We both know your first husband isn’t dead. Which precludes your marriage to another man.”
Kate’s face blanched. “How could you possibly…? Why would you think…?”
“I’ve done some investigating of my own in the week since I discovered I’m a father. You can’t marry another man, because you’re still married to J.D. Pendleton, who isn’t buried in Arlington Cemetery after all. He’s alive and well and left the country for Brazil the day after you were shot.”
“J.D.’s in Brazil?” Her husband had threatened to kidnap her sons and take them to South America if she didn’t pay him a quarter of a million dollars to get out of her life, but she’d been shot before she could ask one of her grandfathers for the money. Although Kate was the daughter and granddaughter of wealthy men and women, J.D. had gambled away her personal trust fund within a few years after she’d gotten control of it when she turned twenty-five.
However, J.D.’s mother had given him $250,000 in “hush money” which he’d presumably used to disappear. The governor didn’t want the world to know her son was a live deserter, rather than a dead war hero.
Kate’s greatest fear, before Wyatt Shaw had shown up on her doorstep, was that J.D. would return, once again threatening to steal Lucky and Chance, and demanding money that she didn’t have to disappear. “Do you know where J.D. is now?” she asked.
“No. But there are dangerous men out there looking for him.”
“Dangerous men?” Kate asked, confused. Your men? she wondered.
“Your husband was trading military weapons for heroin in Afghanistan.”
Kate gasped. She’d known J.D. was in trouble. He’d hinted as much to her when he’d shown up in her kitchen last fall looking gaunt and ragged a year after she’d supposedly buried his remains. But she’d never suspected him of doing anything so awful. “How do you know that?”
Shaw ignored the question and continued, “Your husband blew up that ammo dump in Afghanistan—and faked his death—to avoid paying the consequences for skimming profits on the arms-for-heroin deals he was negotiating between parties here in the States and the Taliban. He absconded with twenty million dollars worth of heroin that didn’t belong to him.
“There are people who intend to find him, get back their product—or the cash he got for selling it—and make an object lesson of your husband.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“The bad guys are closing in on J.D.”
“How do you know all this?”
He lifted a dark brow as though the answer should be obvious, although it wasn’t to Kate. Did he know about J.D.’s situation because he, personally, was chasing him? Or was it some other criminal element with whom Shaw had close ties, like his father, Dante D’Amato?
“Suffice it to say, you and your—our—sons aren’t safe with your husband on the loose.”
Kate lifted her chin. “The man I’ve been seeing is a Texas Ranger. He’ll be happy to protect me.”
“Who’s that?”
Kate debated whether to tell him, then decided it was better not to bring Jack into this. “None of your business.”
Kate didn’t like the look in Shaw’s eyes. He had no right to be jealous. Or possessive. But she didn’t want to exacerbate the situation, so she said, “Nevertheless, this man is willing, and able, to keep an eye on me and my sons. His divorce will be final any day now and—”
“He’s planning to move in?”
Kate heard the challenge in Shaw’s gravelly voice, watched as his eyes narrowed and his hands formed into powerful fists. It seemed safest to say, “We haven’t planned that far ahead.”
She was still looking forward to making love to Jack for the first time. They’d been on the verge of consummating their relationship last fall—kissing in the hall, on the way to her bedroom—when Jack had been called away to confront a killer. Shortly thereafter, Kate had been shot. She’d only recently come home.
So, despite the fact she’d first attempted to seduce Jack ten years ago, when she was nineteen, she still had no idea what kind of lover he was. Which was surprising, when Kate thought about it, because she’d gone to bed with Wyatt Shaw within thirty minutes of meeting him.
Kate felt her breasts peak at the memory of his mouth on her naked flesh. She quickly lowered her gaze, mortified at where her thoughts had led her. Again.
She made herself picture Jack’s beloved face instead. She imagined his dark brown eyes looking down at her, imagined her fingers threading through his sun-streaked chestnut hair. Jack was tall, like Shaw, but his skin was burnished by wind and sun. She ached to have Jack kiss her, touch her, in places where… Where Wyatt Shaw already had.
“You can’t marry anyone so long as J.D. is still alive,” Shaw said, interrupting her disconcerting thoughts. “The way I see it, right now—and for the foreseeable future—my sons don’t have adequate protection.”
“My sons,” Kate automatically corrected, her chin lifting pugnaciously, “are my responsibility.” When Shaw continued to stare at her, she grudgingly corrected, “All right. Our sons are my responsibility. I don’t want or need your help.”
“The danger is real.”
He sounded concerned. But the fact was, they were strangers who, a long time ago, had found solace—and physical pleasure—in each other’s arms. An image of herself trembling as she watched Shaw’s callused fingertips stroke downward across her flat belly flashed in Kate’s mind. She made a growling sound in her throat, angry that memories of herself in bed with Shaw were so unforgettable.
“You’d all be safer if you came to live with me in Houston until J.D. is found,” Shaw said.
“That’s out of the question.”
“My compound is surrounded by high stone walls. I have twenty-four-hour security cameras and guards with dogs that patrol the perimeter.”
“That sounds more like a prison than a home,” Kate snapped.
“Lucky and Chance…”
When he paused, Kate saw his throat working. It was the first time he’d said his sons’ names since he’d shoved his way into her home. Apparently, it had affected him deeply.
But Kate couldn’t afford to sympathize, couldn’t afford to glamorize or glorify his appearance on her doorstep. She didn’t dare feel anything for Wyatt Shaw. She was fighting for her children’s lives. If Shaw had his way, she and her sons would be imprisoned behind high stone walls. She wasn’t about to let that happen.
“Legally, J.D. Pendleton is my sons’ father. You provided the seed. That was all. You have no legal rights where Lucky and Chance are concerned. None. I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. My sons—yes, my sons,” she repeated in a fierce voice, “have managed fine without you in their lives for eight years. And they’re far more likely to grow into fine young men if you never come anywhere near them.”
Shaw’s face blanched.
Kate felt a pang of remorse for hurting him. And ruthlessly quelled it. What did he expect? His reputation had preceded him. No mother would willingly expose her children to a man like Wyatt Shaw. He was the antithesis of Jack McKinley. One man was an outlaw, the other a lawman. There was no question in her mind who would make the better father.
She took a deep breath and said, “I’d like you to leave.”
Kate expected Shaw to argue. Expected him to threaten. Expected him to point out all the reasons why his suggestion was the best way, the only way, to keep her children safe. But he did none of those things.
He simply said, “Goodbye, Kate.” Then he turned and walked to the door. He opened it, glanced back over his shoulder, and said, “I’ll be in touch.”
Kate hurried across the living room to close and lock the door behind him. But she didn’t feel the least bit safe.
I’ll be in touch.
What did that mean? Kate’s stomach cramped as she realized how vulnerable her sons were. All Shaw had to do was intercept them at school. Or after they got off the bus.
Kate’s heart was lodged in her throat. She had to call the boys’ school. She had to warn them that her sons weren’t safe. She had to retrieve Lucky and Chance before Wyatt Shaw made his move. Because she was certain that once Shaw had her sons behind high stone walls, he would never give them back.
3
Jack McKinley had a knot in his belly. He wasn’t looking forward to the next half hour. He had a confession to make that was going to break Kate Pendleton’s heart.
He sat in his SUV, parked on the curb in front of her house, trying to put a smile on his face before he headed for her door. His mouth wouldn’t cooperate. She was going to see the truth in his eyes, so why pretend everything was all right? Nothing was going to be right for a very long time.
Well, not for the next four months, anyway. In four months his not-quite-ex-wife Holly would give birth to an unplanned baby. Unplanned because the sex between them had been unplanned.
Last November, Jack had traveled to Holly’s home in Kansas to have Thanksgiving dinner with his six-year-old son, Ryan. After Ryan had gone to bed, he’d had a terrible row with Holly over visitation rights.
The sharp blows they’d exchanged had all been verbal, but Holly knew exactly where to strike to hurt him most. He was equally adept at hitting below the belt and got in a few good licks of his own. They’d both been furious, hissing and snarling insults because Ryan was asleep down the hall.
They’d ended up having sex.
She’d scratched and bit. He’d left bruises. Neither had minded.
It was how they’d resolved most of the quarrels during their fractious nine-year marriage. There had been a lot less sex—and a lot less trust—toward the end. But he’d never imagined Holly could, or would, keep something as important as a child they’d created a secret from him.
But she had.
Jack had met Holly Gayle Tanner when he was fifteen and she was thirteen. She’d been on the junior cheerleading squad. He’d been the high school football quarterback. He’d already had sex with more than one girl when he’d met Holly, but he’d never been in love.
He’d taken one look at Holly, with her long, curly auburn hair and leaf-green eyes, her freckled nose and wide, friendly smile, and fallen hard and fast.
They’d been inseparable from the day they’d met. Until Holly had broken up with him at Christmas his senior year. He’d still been deeply in love with her, sifting his football scholarship offers as he planned their future together, when she’d told him, “I want a chance to date other guys. I want to see what else is out there. You’re going off to college, so we’ll be separated anyway.”
He’d been devastated.
Once he’d left the small town in the piney woods northeast of Houston where they’d grown up and headed to the University of Texas at Austin, they hadn’t crossed paths again until his 15th high school reunion. Holly was in town for the birth of her youngest sister’s first child and had come to the reunion with a friend from the cheerleading squad.
He’d felt his heart jump when he’d seen her stroll into the Kountze High School gymnasium. Felt it thump hard in his chest when he realized that she’d never married. And that he still loved her.
Holly had become a renowned pediatric oncologist. He was a pro football quarterback who’d been driven from the game, accused, but never tried and convicted, of shaving points in the Super Bowl. He’d lost the restaurant he’d opened in Austin, the Longhorn Grille, to the IRS for unpaid taxes.
Because of his suspected involvement in a national gambling scandal, he’d been offered the chance to work undercover as a Texas Ranger to bring down a mob-controlled gambling syndicate. Jack was proud of his work with the Rangers and had struggled, mostly successfully, to put his checkered past behind him.
He and Holly had both been in a good place in their lives, happy to see each other, eager to share old memories.
To his surprise, they’d ended up in bed that night. He remembered how shy she’d been with him. How tender he’d felt toward her. His heart in his throat, he’d proposed the next morning. And she’d accepted.
Despite the difficulties in their marriage, Jack would never have abandoned his family. His tall-for his-age, chestnut-haired, green-eyed son was the joy of his life. Holly was the one who’d asked for the divorce eleven months ago.
For the second time, and for reasons that were not entirely clear to him, she’d forced him out of her life.
Holly had taken Ryan with her to Kansas while they waited for the divorce lawyers to work out the financial arrangements between them and for the divorce to be finalized in court. Holly had wanted to live close to her parents, so they could help her with child care while she spent long hours at the hospital.
Jack had argued with the family court judge that he could only be a Texas Ranger in Texas, and that Holly shouldn’t be allowed to take his son so far away. The judge had replied that law enforcement was law enforcement, and Jack could take a job as a Kansas City cop if he wanted to be closer to his son.
But the Texas Rangers weren’t the same as other law enforcement agencies. Rangers worked as lone wolves, independent lawmen whose ingenuity and courage and determination made them the best at what they did. When Jack became a Ranger, he’d become part of a history that reached back to a time when the Texas Rangers provided law and order for the brand-new Republic of Texas, formed in 1836 with its own president and its own army and navy.
Despite his plea, the judge had given Holly permission to take Ryan and leave the state. His heart had ached for the loss of Holly. It had bled for the loss of his son.
He’d moved on with his life. He’d allowed himself to fall in love again, with Kate Pendleton. He’d enjoyed the time he spent with her sons, Lucky and Chance, in the months they’d lived with him and his parents at Twin Magnolias, his ranch west of Austin, while Kate was in a coma. He’d even arranged for Ryan to come stay with him and meet Kate’s sons during Christmas vacation.
Fortunately, Ryan had sent him a Valentine’s Day card with a drawing of “Mommy” showing Holly with a swollen belly. He figured Holly’s mother must have accidentally mailed it. Holly knew he’d always wanted more children. It was difficult to accept the fact that she’d schemed to keep this second pregnancy from him.
Even after he’d confronted his nearly-ex-wife, she’d lied.
“The baby isn’t yours,” she’d said, facing him with her chin tilted upward in a gesture of defiance he recognized all too well.
“You willing to prove that?”
She’d frowned. “We’re getting a divorce, Jack. What does it matter whose child this is?”
“I’m not having a son of mine born a bastard. It’s a burden no innocent child should have to bear. I can stand to be married to you long enough to give my son—”
“Or daughter,” she’d interjected.
“Or daughter,” Jack had said, imagining a little girl with Holly’s green eyes and red hair, “my name.”
Holly’s eyes had brimmed with tears as she said, “I don’t want to spend the last few months of my pregnancy with us at each other’s throats. And that’s what happens lately whenever we’re together.”
It had hurt to hear her say it, even though their marriage was within a few weeks of being over. “Too bad,” he’d retorted. “I’m not giving you a divorce until the baby’s born.”
“I want this fighting to be over with, Jack.” Her voice was angry. But her eyes were agonized.
“No problem,” Jack said. “The day you give birth, we’re quits. But the papers don’t get signed until then.”
“All right, Jack. You win.”
He’d won the argument, all right, but lost the war. At least, that was how it felt. Instead of being free to pursue a relationship with Kate, whom he loved, he’d tied himself to Holly for four more long months.
Of course, he and Kate couldn’t get married anyway until they found her errant husband. She’d only admitted J.D. was alive after Jack had said, “I love you”—to explain why she wasn’t completely free.
The world believed her husband was dead, but Kate knew J.D. was alive. How could she get a divorce from a man who was legally dead? And it took seven years after his “disappearance” to have J.D. declared dead—again.
But he’d bought a ring, anyway. He’d planned to go down on one knee tonight and propose to her.
Instead, he had to confess to Kate that while she’d been in a coma, he’d gone to bed with his wife. And gotten her pregnant.
That wasn’t the worst of it.
Holly had made demands of her own before she would agree to postpone their divorce until the child was born.
“I’ll stay married to you on one condition,” she’d said.
“You’re in no position to make conditions,” he’d shot back.
“You have to live with me and Ryan until the baby is born.”
He’d been so stunned that for a moment he hadn’t been able to speak. Fury had quickly followed. “Why are you jerking me around, Holly? You’re the one who asked for the divorce. You’re the one who kicked me out on my ass. And you’re the one who pointed out that all we ever do anymore is fight. Why in hell would you want us to live together for the next four months?”
“I want us to use this time to mend what was broken between us.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Jack was pretty sure they couldn’t mend what was broken between them if they lived together for the next forty years.
“I want us to become friends again,” she explained, her leaf-green gaze focused on his.
He’d always been a sucker for that pleading look, and she knew it. But he wasn’t about to let her manipulate him. “Why make this any harder than it is?”
In a soft, throaty voice that he couldn’t remember hearing Holly use in recent memory, she said, “We were best friends once, Jack.”
“That was a long time ago,” he replied, his voice harsh. “We can’t go back, Holly. What would be the point?”
“The point is, we’re going to have two children who’ll need us to be able to talk without arguing,” she said reasonably. “Two children who’ll need us to be friends in order to make custody arrangements without hurting them or each other.”
He hated to admit it, but she was right. Over the past year, every discussion they’d had about Ryan had been laced with animosity on her part and resentment on his. But there was a sticking point that made what she suggested impossible for him.
“I’m not giving up my job.”
“You won’t have to do that,” Holly said. “I’ve accepted a position at M.D. Anderson in Houston. I’ll be doing research at the Children’s Cancer Hospital on a grant through the end of my pregnancy. All you’d need to do is ask for a transfer across the state.”
He could hardly believe his ears. “When did all this happen?”
“I’ve been working on it for a couple of months.”
“You were intending to come back to Texas and you never told me?” He was angry again.
“It wasn’t any of your business.”
“My son’s whereabouts isn’t my business?”
She flushed and her green eyes sparked with anger equal to his own. “I know about you and Kate Pendleton. I didn’t want to come back to Texas until the divorce was final. It would have been humiliating to have my colleagues know my husband was involved with another woman, especially someone as high-profile as the governor’s daughter-in-law.”
He could see her point. Again. “How soon do you want to do this?”
“I’ve already rented a house near M.D. Anderson. Ryan and I will be moving there over the weekend.”
“This weekend?” he’d asked incredulously.
“The furniture’s being delivered Saturday morning. So, do you think you can get a transfer?”
His undercover assignment was located in Houston. He was investigating a businessman there. “That won’t be a problem.”
“When can we expect you to join us?”
“I can be there Saturday morning. Do you want help moving?”
He saw the astonishment on her face. She hadn’t been expecting him to manage a transfer so soon. Or maybe not at all? Had this all been another trick?
“That would be a big help,” she said. “I won’t tell Ryan you’re coming until you show up. It can be a nice surprise.”
Was she hoping he wouldn’t show up? “What are we going to tell him? He’s going to think we’re getting back together.”
“We can worry about that after the baby is born.”
And that was that.
Jack was distracted from his thoughts when Kate stuck her head out her front door and asked, “Are you all right?”
He shoved his way out of the SUV and headed down the sidewalk. “I’m fine.” As he closed the distance between them he said, “I have some news I need to share.”
He was surprised when her smile of welcome disappeared and she replied, “I have some news, too.”
4
Kate wanted Jack’s arms around her. She’d been seriously rattled by Wyatt Shaw’s visit. She’d realized she would never get to the twins’ elementary school before class let out for the day, so she’d called a friend who lived near the school and asked her to pick up Lucky and Chance. Her friend had called to let Kate know she had the boys in hand, so at least Shaw hadn’t intercepted them before they got on the bus. The boys were going to stay at their friend’s house and play for a while before her friend brought them home.
Then she’d paced the floor, waiting for Jack to arrive.
Jack represented comfort. And security. He arrived at her front door dressed like the lawman he was in the only “uniform” the Texas Rangers wore: a crisp, long-sleeved white western shirt with, in Jack’s case, a bolo tie with a silver clasp, Wrangler jeans, a western hat and cowboy boots.
As he stepped inside, he set his gray felt Stetson on a nearby table with the crown down. As soon as he did, she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
He shoved the SIG Sauer P226 in a slide holster on his belt out of the way. But she could feel the cold imprint of the Texas Ranger badge, a star within a circle stamped out of a silver Mexican cinco peso coin which he wore over his left breast pocket, against her cheek.
She waited anxiously for his arms to close around her. Finally they did. But it wasn’t enough to quiet her fears.
“Hold me tighter, Jack.”
His grip tightened at last, but only for a moment, just long enough for her to hear that his heart was thumping surprisingly fast. Then he grasped her shoulders and pushed her away.
Kate raised her face, thinking Jack wanted to kiss her. She was confused by the anxious look in his dark brown eyes. For a moment, it seemed he wouldn’t kiss her. And then he did.
Kate welcomed the passionate meeting of tongues and caught fire as Jack yanked at the buttons on her cotton blouse. He shoved a hand inside her blouse, then inside her bra, and palmed the naked weight of her breast. He used his other hand to press her hips tight against his erection.
The abrasive brush of his callused thumb caused her nipples to peak. His tongue mimicked the sex act, withdrawing, then seeking honey again.
Kate shoved her hands up around Jack’s neck and into his hair, raising herself on tiptoe so their bodies would fit better, feeling the hot, hard length of him through the layers of denim they both wore. He wasn’t nearly close enough. She wanted him inside her.
Her hand shoved its way back down between them. She traced the shape of him, the length of him, the heat of him, and heard the guttural groan that told her he liked what she was doing.
Which made it all the more shocking when he tore his mouth from hers, yanked his hand out of her bra and grabbed her shoulders with both hands. He held her at arm’s length, his eyes tortured, his lungs heaving.
Kate could feel Jack’s body trembling with need. Felt her own knees buckling, as nature did its best to get her supine to procreate. “Jack?” she gasped.
“We have to stop. We can’t do this.”
“Why not? I love you.” It was the first time she’d said the words. “And I know you love me.” He’d told her so in the days before she’d been shot. He’d proved it by coming to the hospital every day while she was in a coma, and by taking care of her sons when her mother-in-law might have seized the opportunity to steal her children away.
Jack closed his eyes. His jaw worked as though he were fighting some great emotion. “Oh God, Kate.”
When he opened his eyes at last, there was a hopeless look in them that made her breath catch. Kate could think of only one reason why Jack wouldn’t want to make love. She looked earnestly up at him and sought the words that would ease his troubled mind.
“It’s okay, Jack. I know we can’t get married right away, maybe not for a long time.” J.D. might never be caught.
“But being shot, being in a coma, has taught me that none of us knows how long we have in this world. My heart is yours, Jack. I think it has been for a very long time. I want to make love to you. With you.”
Jack made a low, growling sound in his throat, but he kept her at arm’s length.
“We’ve waited long enough,” she said. “I want to start our lives together now. We can worry about J.D. when—or if—he ever shows up again.”
Kate tried to reach out and touch Jack, but his grip tightened painfully. “Ow. Jack, you’re hurting me.”
He let go of her abruptly and took a quick step back. When Kate reached out again, he put his hands up and snapped, “No. Don’t touch me.”
Kate recoiled. “What’s wrong?”
He shoved a hand through his sun-streaked chestnut hair and looked down and away.
Kate recognized the move. J.D. had done it often enough. That was guilt. But guilt about what?
Jack stalked past her to the wet bar on the far side of the living room. He found a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, poured himself a stiff drink and gulped it down in two swallows.
Kate watched him warily, stunned by his rejection. All she could think was that something had changed while she was in a coma. That he didn’t love her anymore. That he’d kept on watching over her sons because he’d felt an obligation to do so. He’d gotten carried away by the kissing and touching, but he wasn’t interested in anything permanent. Which explained why he’d seemed so upset by her profession of love.
“Have you changed your mind about loving me, Jack?” she asked, struggling to keep her chin from quivering.
“No!” His voice was loud. Harsh. As guttural as his groan of pleasure or his growl of guilt.
“Then why did you stop? Don’t you want to make love to me?”
“My balls ache, I want you so bad,” he said through gritted teeth. “I love you. I want to marry you.”
Kate shook her head in bafflement. “Then why—”
“Holly’s pregnant.”
It took Kate a moment to process what Jack had said. She was trying to figure out what Holly’s pregnancy had to do with Jack not making love to her. And realized what he hadn’t said.
“It’s your baby.”
Jack didn’t bother to confirm what she’d said. He just stood there looking sick at heart.
“When…? How soon…?”
“She got pregnant over Thanksgiving,” he said. “The baby’s due in mid-August.”
Kate felt the heat grow in her cheeks. While she’d been in a coma, Jack had been having sex with his wife.
“I’m sorry, Kate.”
“For what?” she snapped. “Holly’s your wife. She is still your wife, right?”
“She is. But—”
“Does this mean you’ve reconciled? That you’re not getting a divorce?”
“It was an accident,” Jack blurted.
Kate laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound.
“We were arguing and…” He rubbed a hand across his nape. “Aw, hell. That’s how Holly and I settled every argument we ever had during our marriage. It was just…habit.”
“You didn’t take any precautions?”
“She’s forty-one. Neither of us thought she could get pregnant because she’s been… What’s it called?”
“Menopausal?”
“Yeah. She started missing periods and said that was the end of kids for us. So I didn’t think—”
“That’s the understatement of the year,” Kate muttered.
“Look, neither Holly nor I planned for her to get pregnant. It just happened. And now that it has…”
He paused again, and Kate waited to hear the death knell to her dreams of a life with Jack. “And now?”
“I don’t want my child born a bastard.”
Kate’s breath soughed out of her. “I see.”
He didn’t explain further. He didn’t need to. She could see where he was headed.
“I presume that means you’re not getting a divorce.”
“We’re still getting divorced. We’re just not going to sign the papers until after the baby’s born in August,” Jack qualified.
“What if I’m willing to have you live here and make love to me while you’re still, technically, married to Holly?”
He was already shaking his head. “I can’t do that, Kate.”
“Why not?”
“Holly set conditions on us staying married until the baby is born, one of which is that we live together in Houston for the rest of her pregnancy. She has a job at M.D. Anderson.”
Kate felt dizzy. “You’re moving to Houston? To live with Holly?”
“And Ryan.”
Kate felt an awful ache in her chest, felt her eyes brim with sudden tears, as though someone she loved had just died. She fought the sorrow with anger. “Why would Holly want you to live with her? She’s the one who asked for the divorce!”
“She wants to use these few months together to work out some of our differences, so we can be friends again.”
“Friends?” Kate snorted the word as though it was an epithet.
“Holly and I won’t be sleeping together, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I’m in love with you.”
Kate moaned and swayed. She covered her face with her hands and fought back a sob.
Jack crossed the room in three strides and gathered her in his arms. His cheek was pressed close to hers and his voice was gruff as he said, “This is just a hiccup, sweetheart. We’ll be together soon. But I have to do this.”
Kate opened her mouth to tell Jack about the threat she faced from Wyatt Shaw and closed it again without speaking. It would tear Jack in two if he thought she was in trouble and needed him while he was stuck living with his wife in Houston.
“When do you leave?”
“Tonight. I’m helping Holly move in tomorrow.”
Kate startled herself when she burst into tears.
“Honey, sweetheart, please don’t cry,” Jack crooned.
Kate felt him kiss her closed eyes, felt him kiss away the hot tears on her cheeks.
He put a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. “Look at me, Kate.”
He waited patiently until she opened her eyes.
She looked up at Jack through a veil of tears. “It’s not fair, Jack. It’s like fate is conspiring against us.”
“Our day will come, Kate. Sooner than you think.”
But Kate wasn’t so sure. What if Jack fell back in love with his wife? And she’d been counting on Jack to be a buffer between her and Wyatt Shaw.
She swallowed over the painful knot of sorrow—and fear—in her throat and said, “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Hey,” Jack said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “It won’t be so bad. We can talk on the phone every day, and I can visit sometimes on weekends. We have the Internet and texting. If you love me as much as I love you, we can get through this together.”
She didn’t want to be coaxed into compliance. She stiffened in his arms. “You’re still planning to woo me while you’re living with your wife?”
“My very pregnant wife,” Jack pointed out.
“Pregnant women are beautiful.”
“I’m sure you were,” Jack said with a grin. “And I hope you will be again.”
Kate flushed. She was only thirty, with many more childbearing years, she hoped, ahead of her. She laid a palm against Jack’s cheek, which was rough from an early five o’clock shadow, and said, “I would love having a child with you.”
“Give me four months, Kate,” he said, “and we can start to work on it.”
The kiss he gave her was soft, tender, loving. And brief. His gaze was still focused on her mouth as he said, “I’m sorry I have to break our date tonight. I’ll make it up to you. I’d better get out of here before I do something I’ll be sorry for in the morning.”
Kate knew she could tempt him. Even though Jack had said he ought to leave, he was still holding her close. It wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. He was aroused again—or still. His dark eyes were heavy-lidded, with an avid look that made her pulse leap.
“You’d better go.” But she made no move to send him on his way.
“I love you,” he said again.
“And I love you.”
Which made what he was about to do all the more insane, Kate thought. Maybe if she told him about Shaw he would stay. But that would mean telling Jack who’d really fathered the twins. He was going to learn the truth sooner or later, and surely it would be better if he heard it from her than found out some other way.
“Jack…”
“Hmm,” he said as he nuzzled her throat.
She leaned her head back to give him better access, feeling the shiver roll down her spine as he sucked on the tender skin beneath her ear.
“I have a confession, too,” she whispered.
“Hmm,” he said, trailing kisses across her cheek, headed for her mouth.
“I…”
He caught her lower lip in his teeth and nibbled gently. She returned the favor. Soon, Kate was breathless, as desire spiraled upward through her body.
“I have to go, Kate,” he said. But he sought her mouth with his, and they were caught up once more in the pleasure of kissing and touching each other.
With the sixth sense every mother has, Kate heard the front door opening. She pulled free of Jack’s embrace and pressed a quick hand to her mouth before she turned to greet her sons with a bright smile.
“Mom, we’re home!” Lucky said as he flung the door open.
“Hi, Jack. How’s Ryan?” Chance said.
The twins had met Ryan at Christmas and talked about him often. According to Jack, Ryan had been jealous of the twins spending time with “his” father and had rebuffed their attempts at friendship at first. But before the holiday was over, the three boys had become “Best Buds.”
“Ryan’s fine,” Jack said. “In fact, I’m glad I have this chance to let you boys know I’ll be living with Ryan for the next couple of months.”
“You’re going to Kansas?” Lucky asked.
“Ryan and his mom are moving back to Texas,” Jack said. “I’m going to live with them in Houston for a little while.”
Kate held her breath, hoping Jack wouldn’t mention Holly’s pregnancy.
Chance frowned and glanced from Jack to Kate. “I thought you and Mom liked each other.”
“We did,” Jack said. “We do,” he corrected. “But Holly’s—” Jack stopped and looked at Kate, seeking guidance.
“Ryan’s mother is pregnant,” Kate explained. “Jack’s going to live in Houston to help her out until she has the baby.”
Kate waited with bated breath for one of the twins to ask how Ryan’s mother had gotten pregnant, but neither did.
“You’re coming back though, right?” Chance asked.
Jack playfully ruffled his black hair. “You bet!”
“There are chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen,” Kate said, hoping to distract her sons and prevent more awkward questions.
The twins gave a yell and headed for the kitchen.
“Be sure to leave your book bags on the counter,” she called after them. She turned to Jack and barely stopped herself from walking right back into his arms. “We’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss all of you, too.”
Kate waited for a last kiss, a final hug. But Jack was keeping his distance. She needed to tell him about Wyatt Shaw’s ultimatum and ask for his help. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”
“Can it wait, honey? I need to check in with my captain before I leave town and I’ve got some packing to do. We’ll have three hours to talk while I’m on the road to Houston tonight. If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to want to hold you again.” He grabbed his Stetson from the table by the door and settled it low on his forehead.
Kate was torn. Her fear of Wyatt Shaw warred with her fear of what Jack would think of her when he knew the truth. “Jack, I wish—”
“Goodbye, Kate.” He kissed her hard and walked out the door.
And ran right into Wyatt Shaw.
5
“Did my father send you here?” Wyatt snarled at Jack, as the two men faced off on Kate’s covered front porch.
“Hell, no!” Jack retorted. “What are you doing here?”
“None of your damn business,” Wyatt said.
Kate’s blood ran cold as she watched Wyatt and Jack face off like vicious junkyard dogs claiming the same territory. She was shocked by their verbal exchange, which suggested the two men knew each other.
Wyatt shot Kate a veiled look, then said to Jack, “You tell D’Amato to keep his nose out of my business.”
“Tell him yourself,” Jack said as he backed his way down her front steps, never taking his eyes off Shaw.
Kate felt like she was watching a movie in a foreign tongue with no translation under the picture. She was both confused and terrified. It seemed Wyatt thought Jack, a man wearing the uniform and badge of a Texas Ranger, took orders from his father, the mob boss. And Jack was playing along.
The explanation came to her in a flash.
Jack is on some kind of undercover assignment for the Rangers. Wyatt has seen him talking in private with D’Amato and made the assumption that Jack is on his father’s payroll.
It was the only thing that made sense. Jack had to be working—or pretending to work—for D’Amato, collecting enough information about the mobster’s criminal activities to put him behind bars.
Why hadn’t Jack simply told Shaw that he and Kate were romantically involved?
Because if Jack is working undercover for the mob, it might put me and my sons in danger.
Kate shuddered at the thought of what D’Amato might do to Jack—or to those Jack loved—if he learned the Texas Ranger was still one of the good guys.
“Did he hurt you?” Wyatt asked.
“Of course not!”
“Did he ask you any questions about the twins?”
“Why would he?”
Wyatt frowned. “You said you were dating a Texas Ranger. Is he the one you’re seeing? The one you’re planning to marry?”
Kate’s heart pumped a burst of adrenaline into her bloodstream. Should she tell Shaw the truth? Or lie? She decided on the literal truth. “I may have exaggerated my relationship to Jack,” she said. “Under the circumstances, it seemed safer to say I was involved with another man.”
“You’re not engaged?”
“No. I’m not involved romantically with anyone at the moment. Jack’s just a friend.”
“What was he doing here?” Wyatt demanded.
“He came to see how I’m doing, now that I’m home from rehab. Jack and his parents were kind enough to take care of the twins at his ranch while I was in a coma and for the past six weeks while I’ve been recuperating. You do know that I was shot in the arm and the chest last October, and that I was in a coma for four months?”
He nodded curtly. “I assumed your parents kept the twins.”
Kate shook her head. “My mother was in delicate health—pregnant with a late-in-life baby—so Jack stepped in.”
Wyatt followed Jack’s progress, his eyes narrowed, till he reached his SUV, then turned back to face her. Jack shot her an anxious look behind Wyatt’s back that asked, What the hell is he doing here?
Apparently, he couldn’t stay and demand answers from her without blowing whatever cover he’d established for himself as one of Dante D’Amato’s minions.
In a raspy voice too soft for Jack to hear, Shaw said, “Did you tell him?”
“Tell him what?”
“Don’t play dumb. Did you tell him the twins are mine?”
“No, I didn’t.” But she’d come very close.
“Thank God for that.”
Kate blanched as she realized why Shaw was so upset. He thought Dante D’Amato had also discovered the truth about who’d fathered the twins and sent Jack here to get Kate to confirm or deny what he’d heard.
“By the time my father knows for sure that Lucky and Chance are my sons,” Shaw said, “I’ll have you all somewhere he can’t get to you.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Kate said, her voice sharp with fear. “Neither are my sons. Why should your father be any threat to us? I would think he’d be glad to know he has grandchildren.”
“You don’t know Dante D’Amato.”
Kate glanced toward where she’d last seen Jack, but his SUV had already disappeared down a small hill under a canopy of live oaks. Why had he abandoned her with Shaw? Was protecting his cover more important than protecting the woman he loved and her children from someone with Wyatt Shaw’s reputation?
It must be.
Or maybe the best way to protect her was to pretend not to be romantically involved with her. Which gave her way too much food for thought.
Kate stood with a hand on either side of the doorway, blocking Shaw’s entrance, and said in a cold voice, “I told you not to come back.”
“Let me in, Kate.”
It was a command, pure and simple. Kate’s neck hairs rose. “Go away. I don’t want you here.”
“I know the twins are home. I intend to see them.”
She tried slamming the door in his face, but he caught it again with his hand.
“We’re not going through this again, are we?”
Kate realized she wasn’t physically capable of keeping him out. She was trying to think of an argument that would convince him to go away when Lucky and Chance came barreling into the living room.
“Mom! Chance is cheating at Mario Brothers Galaxy on the Wii!” Lucky complained. “He won’t give me my turn.”
“I was not!” Chance said, shoving Lucky in the back. “You’re just afraid I’ll beat you.”
Lucky turned and socked Chance in the shoulder.
Kate left Shaw standing where he was to intervene between her sons. “Chance! Lucky! Stop that right now!”
Shaw moved into the open doorway behind her, where she knew he could see the fracas.
Kate grimaced. Her sons weren’t making a very good first impression on their father. “We have company,” she announced.
But Chance had already tripped Lucky, who turned and grabbed Chance’s school uniform shirtfront on the way down. Both boys landed hard on the floor. They rolled, hitting at each other with their fists and knocking into the furniture with their thrashing feet.
Kate wished she could tell Shaw that this behavior was unusual. But ever since she’d come home from rehab, they’d roughhoused like this at least once a day. She supposed Jack must have tolerated this sort of behavior over the past four months while the boys had been living at his ranch house.
“That’s enough.”
Kate watched as her sons’ heads snapped toward the door. She wondered whether it was the mere sound of a male speaking, or the stern, no-nonsense tone of Wyatt’s voice, that had gotten their attention.
They untangled themselves and sat up, staring at the stranger who’d spoken.
Wyatt closed the door behind him and crossed to stand beside her. She knew he was waiting for her to introduce him to her—their—sons. “Come over here,” she said gently. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
That wasn’t true. She didn’t like anything about this situation. But she figured this traumatic moment in her sons’ lives would be less devastating if she orchestrated it.
The twins never took their curious gazes off Shaw. A quick glance at Shaw revealed that his gray eyes were focused intently on Lucky and Chance. His impenetrable gaze gave nothing away, but Kate could see the tension in his shoulders, the muscle that worked in his jaw. She felt a moment of guilt for depriving him of knowing his sons and quickly squelched it.
Wyatt Shaw was a ruthless man capable of anything, maybe even murder. Just because the police hadn’t found enough evidence to arrest him didn’t mean he wasn’t guilty of strangling that poor woman with his bare hands. Could he possibly be as innocent as his expensive lawyer had told the press he was? If Shaw hadn’t killed that woman, who had? And why had she been found in his bed?
Kate couldn’t believe the direction her thoughts had taken. She was realizing, far too late, that just because this stranger had been gentle with her during the night they’d spent together, didn’t mean he wasn’t a killer.
“Mom?” Chance said anxiously.
Kate flushed when she realized she’d been staring at Shaw—perhaps with the fear she was feeling showing in her eyes. She took a deep breath and said, “This is Wyatt Shaw. Mr. Shaw is…”
Kate’s throat suddenly constricted. How was she supposed to introduce him? It seemed too abrupt to baldly announce to her sons that this man was their biological father. She turned to Shaw, looking for help. She found no sympathy in his steel-gray eyes. She realized she would rather tell the boys herself than have Shaw say the words, which he surely would, if she didn’t speak them soon.
Kate turned back to her sons and saw the innocence Shaw was forcing her to steal. She took a deep breath and said, “Mr. Shaw is—”
“I’m an old friend of your mother’s,” Shaw interrupted.
Kate shot a surprised—and grateful—look in Shaw’s direction.
“I’m Lucky,” Lucky said, holding out his hand to be shaken.
Kate watched as Wyatt solemnly took his son’s hand. Shaw’s hand completely enveloped the smaller one. His hold lingered long enough that Lucky pulled free.
“I’m Chance.” Chance thrust his hand out to be shaken.
This time Wyatt let go before the boy felt the need to pull away.
“Is it all right if we go play on the Wii again, Mom?” Lucky asked.
Kate turned to Wyatt, wondering if he wanted to talk further with the boys. He met her gaze, the look in his eyes still obscure, and gave the slightest nod of agreement. She turned back to her sons and said, “Can you do it without fighting?”
The twins exchanged grins, then turned to her and simultaneously said, “You bet.”
“All right. Another half hour. Then you need to go wash your hands for supper.”
Kate waited for the boys to disappear before she turned back to Shaw. “You’ve met them. Now I’d like you to leave.”
“Is that normal behavior?”
Kate bristled at the implied criticism but forced herself to stay calm. She refused to care what Wyatt Shaw thought. He wasn’t going to be around long enough for it to matter. She shrugged and said, “They’re boys.”
“You allow them to fight like that in the house?”
She opened her mouth to explain that the twins’ behavior was more rambunctious now than it had been before her accident and snapped it shut again. She would not apologize to this man for anything her sons did.
“I’ve made arrangements to fly the three of you to Houston tonight,” he said. “You’ll be living with me. You should pack a few bags with whatever you need for tonight and maybe tomorrow. I’ll be providing everything you need from now on.”
Kate felt as though he’d punched her in the gut. It took a moment to recover enough air to speak. “You can just tear up the tickets, because we’re not going anywhere.”
A smile flickered across his face. “We’re traveling on my private jet.”
“I have a job here. I have to earn a living.”
“Not anymore. I’ll be taking care of any expenses associated with my sons. And their mother, of course.”
“I enjoy my work,” Kate said angrily.
“You enjoy providing physical therapy to amputees at Brooke Army Medical Center?”
“Yes!” she said, unsettled that Wyatt knew what she did and where she worked. “You can see how special—and unique—my work is. I can’t do it just anywhere or with just anyone.”
“You can find a comparable job at M.D. Anderson.”
Kate gasped. “Jobs like mine don’t grow on trees.”
“They’ll give you a job.”
“What makes you so sure?” she demanded.
“I’m a benefactor.”
“Oh, so you’ll buy me a job, is that what you’re saying?”
“You’re the one who said you wanted to work. I told you, there’s no need.”
“I don’t want your money. I make enough to support us.”
“My sons are entitled to whatever I can give them,” Wyatt said. “And I can give them more than this.” He gestured around her tiny living room.
She could understand the male need to be the provider. But she was stung by his disdain for her home, which was filled with love, even if it was small. She lifted her chin and said, “There’s more to being a good parent than living in a big house.”
“Thanks to you, I wouldn’t know about that,” he shot back.
“What makes you think you can be a good father to my sons?” she challenged.
“I’m sure you’ll let me know where I go wrong.”
“You have an answer for everything.”
“There’s nothing you can say to make me change my mind.”
Kate made a rumbling sound of frustration. There was another very good reason she didn’t want to go anywhere near Houston and M.D. Anderson. Holly would be living and working there. But she wasn’t about to mention that to Shaw.
“The boys attend a good school.”
“There are good schools in Houston.”
“Their friends are here.”
“They can make new friends.”
“You mean they’re going to be allowed to socialize with other human beings,” Kate said sarcastically. “I thought we were going to be hiding behind high stone walls.”
“Now you’re being absurd.”
Kate fought the tears that threatened. She gripped her hands together to keep him from seeing how badly they were trembling. “I’m happy living here. I don’t want to move.”
“You can’t stay here,” Wyatt said flatly. “It’s not safe. Your Texas Ranger friend isn’t going to be any help to you. He’s proved his loyalty to my father.”
Kate wondered what Jack had done to prove his loyalty to the mob boss. It didn’t bear thinking about. “I can hire protection,” she said.
“It won’t be enough.”
“Who says?”
“You don’t even have a garage for your car. It would be easy to put a bomb in it.”
Kate felt gooseflesh rise on her arms. “Who would do such a thing?”
He didn’t answer her, just lifted a brow and let her imagine the worst. Which she easily did.
Kate was startled by a hard knock on the door. Her heart leapt with the hope that Jack had returned. His name was already on her lips, when the door swung open with a bang.
A giant with the face of a gargoyle stepped inside.
“Oh, God!” Kate cried. She turned to run toward the bedroom, where the boys were playing, but Shaw grabbed her around the waist and yanked her back tight against his chest. His other hand came up to cover her mouth but never closed over it.
“Don’t scream,” he warned.
Kate whimpered, but she didn’t scream. She wasn’t sure she could have, because all the air had been frightened out of her lungs. She remained silent because she didn’t want to draw Lucky and Chance into the living room to witness her death.
“If you’re going to kill me,” she said in a shaky voice, “I’d rather you didn’t do it in front of my sons.”
“Boss?” the big man said, his scarred brow furrowing.
“It’s all right, Bruce,” Shaw said. “I think Mrs. Pendleton thought my father sent you to take care of both of us.” He angled Kate’s chin so she could see his face and said, “I asked Bruce to join us.”
Kate sagged in Wyatt’s arms and put a hand to her mouth to hold back a sob of relief. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she blinked them back. “Why?” she gasped.
“What?”
“Why did he burst in here like that?”
“Bruce was waiting outside in the limo with my driver. I told him to give me fifteen minutes and join us.”
“It’s all right, ma’am,” Bruce said. “I’m here to protect you. Actually, I’m going to be keeping an eye on the Boss’s kids.” He glanced at Shaw, smiled crookedly and said, “I think the Boss is going to be keeping an eye on you himself.”
A polite giant. Who knew?
Kate would have laughed, except her throat was still choked with leftover terror.
“Can you stand if I let you go?” Shaw asked, easing her feet back onto the ground.
Kate’s legs were limp noodles. The instant Shaw set her down, she stumbled away from him and turned to face both men. “You had this planned from the beginning,” she said bitterly. “I never had any choice in the matter, did I?”
“No.”
“What if I refuse to go with you?”
“You can stay. But the boys are coming with me.”
Kate was horrified. “They won’t leave the house without me, not without a fight.”
“Whatever it takes, they’re coming with me.”
Kate realized what he was saying. “You’d use force on your own sons?”
“I’d rather not,” he admitted.
But he would. He’d obviously brought the big man in to help him manhandle the twins, if that became necessary. Kate felt panicked. She glanced toward the landline in the living room, but knew she wouldn’t have time to dial 911 before Shaw stopped her. Maybe she could call for help when she was in her bedroom supposedly packing.
“Don’t even think it,” Shaw said.
“What?”
“Don’t think about calling the police. Or anyone else. I promise you, you’ll regret it.”
It was a threat that left everything to her imagination. Which was working overtime.
“Call the twins back in here,” Shaw said. “We need to tell them what’s going on. Then Bruce will help them pack.”
“What about me?”
“Are you coming?”
Her mind was racing, trying to think of a way out of the trap Shaw had sprung. But she—and her sons—were well and truly caught. “What’s to keep me from calling the police later? I mean, if I’m going to be allowed to work, I’m not always going to be stuck behind high stone walls.”
He didn’t even dignify her question with an answer.
He would have an explanation ready that would satisfy the police. And he had a secret weapon. He was the twins’ father. He could prove it, if need be. He might seek joint custody or, if she became too troublesome, sole custody of the twins.
And he had the money to make it all happen.
Her family was wealthy, and she knew both her grandfathers would be happy to fight Shaw. But a nasty legal fight like that was bound to impact her sons’ lives. And not in a good way.
She met Wyatt’s implacable gaze and said, “Suppose I go with you willingly and give Lucky and Chance a reason for this visit that will keep them from hating your guts. When is this forced imprisonment going to end? When is it going to be safe for my sons to come back home?”
His answer was blunt and uncompromising. “From now on, their home will be with me.”
6
“I need cash, Mother. I’m tapped out.”
Ann Wade Pendleton pursed her lips as she stared at her wayward son. She’d received some shockingly bad news this morning and had abandoned the campaign trail for her ranch in Midland, Texas, seeking solitude to think about what she should do. Surprise, surprise, she’d discovered J.D. hiding out at the ranch, which boasted far more oil wells than cattle.
Luckily, she’d kept her Secret Service contingent out of the house, so knowledge of her “dead” son’s presence, and the public relations disaster that would have resulted, had been narrowly averted.
She could remember being glad, as her only son grew from a boy into a man, that he’d inherited his father’s good looks and athletic ability. J.D. was tall and blond and blue-eyed. He’d become a star football player. He’d also learned at the master’s knee how to charm a woman, how to lie to her and cheat on her and still smile at her without a hint of guilt.
She almost didn’t recognize the gaunt figure with shaggy blond hair and sunken blue eyes who sat slumped in the studded black leather chair across from her. The charm was long gone. What she saw in her son’s eyes was desperation. And despair.
She contemplated the road to J.D.’s downfall from her seat behind the ancient oak desk where her deceased husband had kept track of his dwindling fortune. Dwindling because Jonas David Pendleton, Jr. had gambled his oil money on every half-assed hare-brained investment scheme that came along. Another trait he’d passed along to his son.
J.D. had married a woman with enough money to keep them living in luxury their entire lives and had frittered it away in a few years. It was her son’s enormous unpaid gambling debts that had gotten him into trouble with D’Amato, and given the mobster the leverage he needed to involve J.D. in the brokering of guns for heroin that had led to her son’s ruin.
Ann Wade settled farther back into the oversize chair made of polished cow horns and covered in black-and-white spotted cowhide and asked her son, “What happened to the quarter million I gave you last fall?”
“It’s expensive to stay invisible, Mother. Bribes. Payoffs. Blackmail. And the sons of bitches found me in Brazil anyway. I was lucky to escape with my life.”
Ann Wade’s insides wrenched when her son reached toward the festering scab on his face where a bullet had gouged a path through his flesh. Fortunately, he dropped his hand before touching it.
“Actually, getting shot is the least of my worries,” J.D. said. “I think Dante D’Amato has something far worse than a bullet to the brain in mind if he ever runs me down. Probably a bullet in each knee and two in my balls—for a start.”
“Why don’t you give him back the heroin he told me you stole from him?” Ann Wade said.
“He’s already made it clear it’s too late for that. Besides, I don’t have it anymore.”
“What happened to it?”
“I stowed it in a cargo container on the deck of a tramp steamer. The container went overboard during a hurricane. What are the chances?” he said ruefully.
Ann Wade knew her son wasn’t as nonchalant as he was trying to appear. Besides the infected-looking scab across his left cheek, he had another bullet wound in his thigh that hadn’t yet healed. The hitmen D’Amato had sent to hunt him down had left her son wounded and shaken.
She wasn’t so sanguine herself. She was practically a shoo-in to be selected as her party’s next presidential candidate. Everything could fall apart in a heartbeat if J.D.’s criminal activities, not to mention the fact that he’d faked his death and deserted his post in wartime, became known. God forbid the public learned that she’d paid her son an extortionate amount of cash to disappear.
She could understand why some mothers ate their young.
“This can’t continue, J.D. You have to come to some accommodation with D’Amato.”
“You have twenty million dollars to spare?”
“No, I don’t!” she snapped. “It’s bad enough that I’ve had to keep the Texas attorney general off D’Amato’s back since that mobster found out you’re still alive. I was able to justify that by saying D’Amato is the federal government’s problem, not ours. I even managed to reassign Jack McKinley, the Texas Ranger hottest on D’Amato’s trail, as a bodyguard for my grandsons. But I don’t like being blackmailed by that conniving bastard.”
Ann Wade patted at her short, perfectly coifed blond hair and pressed her lips together to smooth her pink lipstick, both activities that helped her to calm down. It was never a good idea for a woman in politics to show too much emotion. But she was seriously annoyed with her son.
“I shudder to think what that scoundrel might expect from me once I’m president,” she said. “You need to disappear, J.D. Somewhere I can be sure D’Amato will never find you.”
So long as her son was alive and about in the world, D’Amato had a very large sword to dangle over her head. Once she was president, any accusations D’Amato made without J.D.’s body in hand could be explained away.
J.D.’s casket in Arlington Cemetery was empty because there had supposedly only been enough of his body left after the ammo dump explosion to identify his remains through DNA. J.D. had given the sample of his DNA, along with a great deal of cash, to the lab tech making the identification. So, no body, no proof her son had survived.
J.D. made a disgusted sound in his throat and shoved himself onto his feet, limping over to the wet bar. “So nice to know you care, Mother.”
Ann Wade watched as J.D. poured himself a Dewar’s and drank it down, then poured another double shot, drank it and carefully set down his glass.
He turned to her and said, “What did you have in mind for me to do? I tried disappearing. It didn’t work.”
“Then perhaps you should stop running and start fighting back.”
“How?”
“You’re the demolitions expert. Figure it out.” If D’Amato was dead, it would solve both their problems.
“D’Amato has a half-dozen bodyguards around him at all times. His home in Houston is impregnable. His cars are kept in underground garages. He has no family left except that bastard son of his, and Wyatt Shaw has security even tighter than his father’s.” He cracked his knuckles, then added, “Well, there may have been a loophole or two, but those have been closed since that hooker was found strangled in his bed.”
“And you know all this how?”
“I’m not as dumb as you think, Mother. You’re not the first one to consider blasting the problem out of existence.” He poured himself another drink and gulped half of it down.
Ann Wade almost smiled. There were some things J.D. had learned from her. Shrewdness. Guile. And a willingness to do the hard thing.
She loved her son, but right now, J.D. was a loose end that could cost her the presidency. And his situation was unfraying before her eyes.
She debated whether to tell him the shocking news she’d heard this morning from Harry Dickenson’s assistant, who was going through his deceased boss’s open files to make final reports to Harry’s clients. She should’ve known that her bitch of a daughter-in-law would find a way to stab her in the back. Her grandsons, who’d been such assets in the political arena, had become definite liabilities.
Her eyes narrowed. “I have some unpleasant news I need to share with you.”
J.D. groaned. “Save it.”
“This is important. It relates to our other problem.” She smiled as she realized her own play on words, “In fact, it’s directly related to our other problem.”
He swallowed the rest of the Dewar’s in his glass and said, “Get to the point, Mother.”
Upset at his rude interruption, Ann Wade said bluntly, “Lucky and Chance aren’t your sons.”
“The hell you say!” J.D. limped his way over to her from the bar, his unshaven face blotchy with the blood that had rushed there. “That isn’t funny, Mother.”
“No, it isn’t,” she agreed, curling her hands around the smooth horn arms of the chair. “And you haven’t even heard the best part.” She sat forward and looked up at him. “Wyatt Shaw is their father.”
The glass dropped from J.D.’s hand and rolled across the Turkish carpet under the desk, before clattering along the pegged oak floor all the way to the wall.
“You’re shitting me,” J.D. said.
“I promise you, it’s the truth. I found out the twins weren’t your sons when Lucky needed a blood transfusion earlier this year. Kate was in a coma, so the hospital sought permission from me to treat him. Which is how I found out his blood type is A positive, an impossibility if the twins were yours.”
“How did you find out Shaw is their father?”
“I hired a very good private investigator, Harry Dickenson. Harry’s assistant called me this morning to tell me he found copies of DNA tests that prove Shaw fathered the twins. The assistant was calling because Harry was killed after he met with Shaw.”
“Shaw had him killed?”
“Who knows? He was hit by a garbage truck that ran a red light outside Shaw’s office in downtown Houston.”
“Has Shaw contacted Kate?”
“I don’t know that he has, but we have to presume that he will.”
“Oh, shit.”
“What has me concerned is the possibility that Dante D’Amato has—or will—discover the truth.”
“Holy shit.”
“Precisely my feeling,” Ann Wade said.
“Goddamn it all to hell,” J.D. said angrily, stomping back to the bar, where he found another glass and poured himself another double shot of Dewar’s.
“I’m not any happier about this than you are,” Ann Wade said. “Do you realize what this means?”
“My wife was fucking another man the same time she was fucking me.”
“I was thinking more about the additional ammunition this will give D’Amato when he comes asking for more favors.”
“This is all that bitch’s fault,” J.D. muttered.
Ann Wade didn’t bother to point out that J.D. had been playing the same game as his wife. Except, no unexpected children had shown up on his doorstep. Yet.
“What happens now?” J.D. asked, shoving a hand through his stringy blond hair.
“I think the solution to both our problems is obvious.”
“Kill D’Amato. Kill Shaw. Kill both the bastards dead.”
“Can you do it?” she asked. “Or arrange to have it done?”
“Sure. If I had enough cash.”
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand,” J.D. said. “But the minute you make a withdrawal like that, D’Amato’s going to hear about it and start looking over his shoulder for a hired assassin.”
“I’ve got that much in the safe here at the ranch.”
“Then I can manage the rest. I plan to—”
“I don’t give a good goddamn how you make this all go away, J.D.,” she interrupted brusquely. “Just get it done.”
Because if he didn’t, she would take care of the problem herself. The entire problem.
7
“This plane is bad!” Lucky said, grinning broadly as he stepped inside Wyatt’s luxurious Gulfstream 550 business jet.
By which Wyatt knew his son meant the plane was “neat” or “cool” or one of the myriad other phrases his generation had used to sound “hip.”
“It’s a jet, stupid,” Chance said as he clambered onto the camel-colored leather couch that took up part of one wall toward the rear of the plane. He leaned over to peer through a porthole window and said, “How far can we fly before we have to stop, Mr. Shaw?”
“She’ll go seven thousand seven hundred and fifty nautical miles without a fill-up,” Wyatt replied with a smile. He was going to have to think of something else to have his sons call him besides “Mr. Shaw.” And he would rather his sons didn’t call each other stupid. But there would be plenty of time to correct them, after they learned he was their father.
And that he loved them. Had loved them from the moment he’d seen their images in a photograph and learned of their existence. And that he would always love them. For themselves, of course, and because they had brought him back together with their mother.
Wyatt had felt poleaxed when he’d realized that the mother of his children was the woman with whom he’d spent a single, life-altering night nine years before. That woman had shared herself without holding back, then stolen away like a thief in the dark, taking his heart with her.
He shouldn’t have been surprised when the anonymous woman disappeared or when she was impossible to find. He’d felt the rings on her finger the moment she’d grasped his hand. He’d known she was someone else’s wife, that she’d chosen him at random for a night of sex. He hadn’t asked her reasons and she hadn’t offered any.
He hadn’t asked her name or given her his.
She’d nearly chickened out when the elevator doors opened on the penthouse floor. Her chin had wobbled, and she’d looked up at him with anxious blue eyes. He’d led her directly to the bedroom, hoping that her nerve would hold a little longer.
The bed had already been turned down, and the only light on the pure white sheets had come from the full moon outside. He’d taken her in his arms while she was still fully clothed and felt her tremble in his embrace. She’d made a mewing sound as he slid his open hand down to her hips and pulled her close enough to feel the heat and hard length of him.
But she didn’t try to pull free. Instead, she breathed in the scent of him as she slid her palms up over his shoulders. He could remember feeling gooseflesh rise on his arms as she teased her fingers through the hair that fell onto his nape and then tugged his head down toward hers.
He remembered the soft weight of her breasts, and then their pebbled tips against his chest, as she leaned into him and raised her lips for his kiss.
That first kiss—
“Wow!” Chance said, tugging on Wyatt’s hand and putting an abrupt end to his erotic daydream. “We could probably go all the way to China in this plane!”
“Yes, we could,” he agreed. Before he could say more, the boy was off to investigate more of the plane.
Wyatt’s gaze shot to the door. He’d boarded after the twins but before Kate, who’d stayed behind with Bruce to remove some items from her luggage before it was loaded into the baggage compartment. He wondered what was holding her up.
He’d taken off his suit jacket and tie, loosened the top couple of buttons on his shirt and folded up the sleeves. He was standing slightly hunched near the cockpit door, so his head didn’t hit the 6’2” ceiling. It was the only thing he didn’t love about the sixty-million-dollar jet, which had actually taken him to China and back several times over the past six months. Unfortunately, the next size up jet with the headroom he needed was a Boeing 737.
Kate suddenly appeared in the doorway. She glared at him—a far cry from the yearning look he’d been remembering—then glanced over her shoulder at Bruce, who was bringing up the rear, a massive obstacle Wyatt had put there to keep her from grabbing the boys at the last minute and making a break for it. Now that he knew Jack McKinley was the man Kate had expected to protect her, it was even more important to keep her behind high stone walls. Jack had already proved his willingness to kill for Dante D’Amato by eliminating a snitch.
“Mom, wait’ll you see this!” Lucky said from the aft section of the 550. “There’s a whole kitchen. And a bathroom with a counter and a mirror and a closet for clothes.”
“The kitchen on a plane is called the galley,” Wyatt said.
“Mom, come see the galley.” Lucky scampered back to grab Kate’s hand and tugged her all the way inside the plane, then got behind her and literally shoved her down the aisle so she could see the galley, which was designed for hot meal service. For the very short flight, Wyatt had stocked hot Papa John’s pizza and ice-cold Cokes for the kids and chilled Cristal Champagne he planned to offer Kate.
“Lucky, look!” Chance exclaimed as he spotted several screens mounted near a tabletop. “A computer! And a DVD player!”
Lucky pounded back down the center aisle between the couch and a row of two facing seats with a table between them, to the front of the jet. He looked up at Wyatt, his blue eyes bright with excitement, and said, “Do you have any games we could play or movies we could see, Mr. Shaw?”
“I have both,” Shaw said. “They’re in that cupboard.” Wyatt pointed to a cupboard built in along the wall near the tabletop above which the DVD screen was mounted. “I think there might be a few movies in there you’d like.” He’d picked them out himself, based on what he remembered liking as a kid and what the reviewers said were appropriate movies for young children.
The two boys dropped to the carpeted floor, yanked open the cupboard door and riffled through the games and DVDs.
Wyatt was entranced by their exuberance. He glanced up and met Kate’s stark gaze at the opposite end of the plane. He saw the flicker of panic in her eyes and followed her gaze to where Bruce was locking the door to the Gulfstream, barring Kate’s last avenue of escape before they landed at the private airstrip near his compound north of Houston.
“Folks, we’re cleared for takeoff,” the pilot drawled over the intercom in a thick East Texas accent. “Please take your seats and buckle your seat belts.”
The twins ignored the announcement.
“You boys need to buckle in so we can take off,” Wyatt said, tapping each boy on the shoulder. “The pilot will let us know when it’s safe to move around again.”
The twins each had a handful of DVDs when they stood.
“I’ll hold those for you.” Wyatt held out both hands.
Lucky looked to his mother, who nodded, before he handed over his loot. Chance followed suit. Wyatt stowed the DVDs they’d selected in an overhead compartment.
“Where should we sit?” Lucky asked Wyatt.
“I want you both where I can see you,” Kate said, pointing to facing seats on the same side of the plane as the couch. Each boy grabbed one of the seats on opposite sides of a table and reached for the seat belt. Kate helped Chance, while Wyatt helped Lucky.
Kate shot him an aggravated look but didn’t say anything.
She took a seat across from the twins. Wyatt took the seat opposite her, with a table separating them.
Bruce headed to the back of the plane, where he sat on one of the four club seats around what would be the dining table near the galley.
Wyatt tried to meet Kate’s gaze, but she turned her face toward the boys and ignored him. She’d barely spoken a word since he’d given his ultimatum at her home, except to explain to the boys that they were going on a little vacation. Which suited him fine. At least she wasn’t saying or doing anything to make Lucky and Chance dislike him.
Once they were at altitude, he got the boys settled watching WALL-E, where they were quickly engrossed. Bruce was in the galley fixing plates of pizza and handed Wyatt a can of soda for each of the boys.
Kate stepped into the aisle and intercepted him close to the galley. “I don’t allow them to have carbonated beverages.”
Wyatt grimaced. “What do they drink?”
“Water. Or lemonade, if you have that.”
“It’ll have to be water. Even with pizza?” he asked.
“Water is the perfect beverage, Mr. Shaw.”
He set the Coke cans down on a nearby table and stuck his hands on his hips. “Mr. Shaw?”
She flushed. Her voice was low and intense and full of resentment. “How about Mr. Kidnapper? That fits.”
“Look who’s talking,” he shot back, keeping his voice equally low, fighting the rage that rose every time he thought of all the years he’d lost with his sons. “You’re the one who kept my children hidden from me.”
She didn’t excuse herself again. Or argue the point. “What am I supposed to call you?”
“Wyatt. It’s my name. Or Shaw, if it suits you.”
“All right, Shaw. There, is that better?”
“Much. And I’d like my sons to call me something besides Mr. Shaw.”
“Please, Shaw, don’t tell them you’re their father,” she pleaded. “Not yet. They’re too young to understand all of this.”
“I don’t want the twins upset or frightened any more than you do. I can wait.”
“Thank you.”
He saw another flash of resentment before she lowered her gaze. Before he could express the resentment he was feeling at her resentment, she raised her eyes to his and said, “Why not have them call you Shaw, too, without the mister?”
He supposed that was a good compromise. “All right,” he said grudgingly. At least until they knew the truth. By then he hoped they would want to call him Dad or Papa or Daddy. Because he was planning to spend the rest of his life being their father.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said to Kate, indicating one of two seats on either side of the table near the galley. He waited until she sat, then traded the Cokes for bottled water, crossed back to the boys, took off the caps and dropped the bottles into the recessed glass holders on each side of the table between them.
“Pizza’s ready, Boss,” Bruce called from the galley.
Kate rose. “Can I help?”
“Bruce and I can handle it,” Wyatt said, returning down the aisle and putting a hand on her shoulder to encourage her to sit again.
She jerked away from his touch, crying out as she hit her hip against the table.
Lucky turned around in his seat. “Mom, are you all right?”
“Just bumped into the table,” she called back in a falsely cheerful voice.
Wyatt was amazed that the boy was so aware of his mother. Not nearly so surprised that Kate had kept her injury from her sons. She was still obviously in pain, holding her lower lip in her teeth to keep from crying out again.
“You’re hurt,” he said softly.
She shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
He glanced at the spot on her hip she was rubbing gently with her fingertips. He could remember what that exact spot of skin near her hipbone looked like. He’d kissed it. And caressed it.
He met her gaze and saw from the troubled look in her eyes that she remembered, too. She shook her head as though to deny what she was feeling. Or perhaps to warn him that she had no intention of letting what had happened between them once happen ever again.
She sank back down, but he could feel her eyes on him as he headed the few extra steps to the galley to get the plates of pizza Bruce had prepared for the boys.
He wondered if Kate would be more amenable to the idea of him being a father to Lucky and Chance if she knew that he intended to spend the rest of his life with her as his wife.
Probably not.
Everything she’d said or done had made it clear that the sooner she was shed of Wyatt Shaw, the better. So how was he supposed to woo her? How was he supposed to win her heart?
Especially when he’d been accused of murder.
He wondered what she would do if he told her who he believed had actually strangled the woman found dead in his bed.
Likely call him a liar.
Until he found enough evidence to cast a giant shadow on that other party, he was going to remain the prime suspect in a murder investigation. So he could understand how she might be leery of him. He was ready for the fight he knew was coming when she realized what their sleeping arrangements were going to be at his ranch.
“How did you know pepperoni’s my favorite, Mr. Shaw?” Lucky asked.
“It was a ‘Lucky’ guess,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. Amazing what a little detective work of his own had turned up about his sons. “And you can call me Shaw, without the Mister.”
Lucky pointed with his pizza, which he’d picked up in his hands and said, “Oh, I get it. A ‘Lucky’ guess. Very funny, Shaw.” He glanced at his mother and said, “That’s all right, Mom, isn’t it? He told me I could just call him Shaw.”
“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Kate said.
Her voice sounded choked to Wyatt, and when he looked, he saw tears had brimmed in her eyes. What was that all about?
“You’re missing the movie,” Chance warned his brother.
Wyatt crossed back to Kate and said, “Hungry?”
“I think if I ate anything right now I’d throw up.”
“How about something bubbly to settle your stomach,” he suggested.
“Club soda sounds good.”
He smiled wryly. “I was thinking of a glass of champagne.”
She looked at him stony-faced and said, “I can think of nothing—nothing—about this moment I want to celebrate.”
He leaned down and said through tight jaws, “There were two of us in that bed. You were as much responsible as I was for what happened there. We became parents that night. And you are not going to make me feel guilty for wanting to be a father to my sons!”
He stood up and said, “Bruce, pop open that bottle of champagne.” When he looked down, he saw her eyes were once more brimmed with tears. He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and said, “I feel like celebrating.”
8
The impressively high river-rock walls that separated Wyatt Shaw’s ranch compound from the outside world were every bit as daunting as Kate had feared they would be. Her sons seemed not to notice when the beautiful black wrought iron electric gates, with the elaborate S in the center, closed behind them.
Lucky and Chance sat on either side of Shaw in the black stretch limousine that had picked them up at his private airfield, talking a mile a minute as they quizzed him about what he had planned for their “vacation.”
“I have a stable full of horses,” she heard him tell the boys. “But we can have your horses—”
“Big Doc,” Lucky interjected.
“And Little Doc,” Chance supplied.
She watched Shaw smile indulgently as he finished, “Big Doc and Little Doc can be trailered here from San Antonio by tomorrow, if you’d rather ride your own mounts.”
“You’d do that? Really?” Lucky asked.
“Of course,” Shaw said.
As though it cost nothing to trailer a couple of quarter horses halfway across the state. It was nothing to a wealthy man like Shaw, Kate realized.
“Can we bring our dog here, too?” Lucky asked.
“And our cat?” Chance added.
Shaw glanced quickly at Kate. “You have a dog and a cat?”
“We got them for our birthday last year,” Lucky said. “We had them with us at Jack’s ranch while Mom was in the hospital. Jack’s mom and dad, Uncle Frank and Aunt Rose, have been taking care of them for us. Harley and Scratch were supposed to come home this weekend. They must be missing us like crazy—”
“Because we’re missing them,” Chance finished for his brother. “Please say they can come stay with us here.”
“I don’t see why that couldn’t be arranged,” Shaw said. “If it’s all right with your mother.”
“She doesn’t mind, do you, Mom?” Lucky said.
“She loves Harley and Scratch,” Chance said.
“Harley and Scratch?” Shaw repeated, eyeing Kate dubiously.
“Harley’s our black Lab,” Lucky said. “He runs really fast, like our dad’s Harley-Davidson motorcycle.”
“And Scratch…” Chance exchanged a chagrined look with Lucky, then glanced up at Shaw. “Well, you can guess how she got her name.”
Shaw laughed. “I can’t wait to meet them.”
Kate was beginning to understand there was far greater danger in having her sons spend time with Shaw than she’d ever imagined. He was going to spoil them rotten by giving them anything and everything their hearts desired. Including the attention from a father figure they were soaking up right now like sunshine.
He was going to make them love him.
They were never going to want to leave.
Several times since this journey had started, Kate had contemplated grabbing the twins and running as far and as fast as she could. But even now, the giant who’d introduced himself as the children’s bodyguard followed in a smaller black limo behind them. There was no escape from this nightmare.
At least, not yet. She wrapped her hand around the cell phone in her Levi’s pocket. She’d secretly tucked it there when she was packing. As soon as she had a moment alone, she was going to call Jack and tell him everything.
He would understand. And he would help her…if he could. Kate wasn’t sure how Jack’s undercover assignment was going to affect his ability to intervene. Especially in light of the fact the twins were Wyatt Shaw’s biological sons.
She and her sons were captives for the moment, but Shaw wasn’t going to be able to keep them behind these walls for long. The boys had to go to school. And Shaw had promised she could work. There would be opportunities for escape.
It might take some planning, but Wyatt Shaw would discover that she had weapons of her own with which to fight the war between them. Her grandfathers would help her. And her father and mother. And Jack would be there for her…when he wasn’t taking care of his wife and son.
Kate felt sick. Did she dare bring the wrath of Wyatt Shaw down on her family? Or on Jack?
Maybe the best thing to do was wait Shaw out. Being a father was a novelty right now. How would he react if the two little boys got sick all over his carpet or were cranky because they were feverish? He might not find it so much fun playing parent when the twins turned stubborn and defiant. How would he respond if they were mischievous? Or downright mean to him? All of which she’d experienced with her sons in their short lives.
Once Shaw realized what being a parent was really all about, he might be as anxious to be rid of the twins as he’d been to have them come and live with him.
She could always hope.
The limo rolled to a stop in front of a sprawling, single-story house with white adobe walls and a red, barrel-tiled roof. Shaw’s home was half-hidden by flowering bougainvillea and draped by gnarled live oaks that provided cool shade from the hot Texas sun.
Kate looked for windows, but didn’t see any. She felt her heartbeat ratchet up. How could anyone bear to live in a place so shut off from the light? She would feel suffocated in a house like that.
A barrel-chested man in a long-sleeved plaid, western-cut shirt, worn blue jeans and cowboy boots opened the door to the limo and stood back as Shaw got out, the boys tumbling after him. Her sons headed straight for the German shepherd sitting beside him.
Kate’s heart was in her throat, afraid the large dog would snap at them. When Shaw reached a hand back inside for her, she took it as the fastest way to get out of the limo.
“Be careful!” she warned the boys.
“Wolf won’t hurt ’em, ma’am,” the heavyset man said.
Despite his dangerous-sounding name, the dog sat unruffled as her sons “oohed” and “aahed” and ran their hands over his furred head and back.
“This is Micah,” Shaw said, introducing the man to Kate. “He takes care of the house. He’s a terrific cook.”
“Good to see you, Boss.” The hired man turned to Kate and said, “You need anything at all, ma’am, just let me know.”
“Thank you,” Kate said.
Micah excused himself to help Bruce with their bags, which were in the trunk of the second limo. Wolf rose and followed him.
“Let’s go inside,” Shaw said to the twins. “I’ll show you your rooms.”
As though it was the most natural thing in the world, he slid an arm around Kate’s waist and headed down the winding walkway that led to the front door. She went with him willingly, because her other choice was to make a scene in front of her sons.
The boys hop-skipped on the lush lawn beside Shaw to keep up with his long strides.
“You said rooms, Shaw,” Lucky pointed out. “Does that mean I don’t have to share a room with Chance?”
“Is that all right with you?” Shaw asked.
“It sure is!” Lucky backpedaled beside Kate as he crowed, “Mom, I’m gonna have a room of my own!”
“Me, too!” Chance shouted, running in circles on the lawn with his hands held out like an airplane.
Kate made a distressed sound that Shaw must have heard because he leaned close and said, “Any reason why that isn’t a good idea? I just thought—”
“It’s a fine idea,” she snapped. “Any other wishes you plan to fulfill while we’re here?”
“As many as I can,” he snapped back. “I’ve got a lot of making up to do, as you well know.”
“You’re going to spoil them, Shaw.”
“By giving them their own rooms?”
“And bringing their horses and their dog and their cat here.”
“That doesn’t sound like a hell of a lot,” he said. “I would have liked to be the one to give them their first horse. Or their first dog.”
“Or their first cat?”
“I hate cats.”
Kate couldn’t help it. She laughed.
“What’s so funny, Mom?” Lucky asked.
“I tickled your mother’s funny bone,” Shaw said.
“I know Mom’s really ticklish in the ribs,” Chance said. “I didn’t know she had a funny bone. Where is it?”
She looked helplessly at Shaw and laughed harder. It beat the heck out of crying.
Shaw chuckled. “I’ll show you sometime.” He opened the door to his home and gestured his sons inside.
Kate saw why there were no windows on the outside. The interior walls in the U-shaped house were made of windows that brought the outdoors inside. The patio in the center of the courtyard was shaded by a giant oak and graced with a waterfall burbling over stones into a pond dotted with blooming white water lilies.
Kate watched her sons move through Shaw’s earth-toned bachelor living room, past the saddle-leather, man-size chairs and the plush, man-length couch, both situated in front of a stone fireplace that ran up to the cathedral ceiling, as though they were bird dogs hunting down the scent of a covey of quail.
They touched everything, the odd-shaped lamps, the Hopi Indian dolls, the pillows on the couch, letting their curiosity take them from item to item. They scuffed their feet across the colorfully patterned rug.
She waited for Shaw to tell them to back off, not to handle this, to leave that alone. But he said nothing. She searched his face, trying to discern what he was feeling. But he had his emotions well contained.
When the boys finally headed down a wide hallway off the living room, he followed them as though he were attached by an invisible string. She thought he might have forgotten she was there, so entranced was he with his sons.
She stood bemused for a moment, wondering if she should follow him or stay where she was.
He returned to the doorway and said, “The bedrooms are down this hall.”
He waited for her, and she was grateful the hallway was wide enough for her to walk beside him without touching. She saw the boys had stopped and waited for him.
“Which room is mine?” Lucky asked.
“Which one is mine?” Chance asked.
“This is yours,” he said to Lucky, pointing through a doorway. “And this is yours,” he said to Chance, indicating the doorway next to it.
At first Kate thought there was a mirror in the wall between the two rooms. Then she realized that a double door had been cut in the wall between the two rooms, and that they were mirror images of each other. The boys could shut the door between their rooms for privacy, or leave it open if they wanted to play together.
While Kate watched, the two boys met in the doorway, then turned and grinned at Shaw, acknowledging the perfect beauty of the connecting doorway. Then they turned again to explore their separate rooms, which each held a twin bed, an end table and lamp and a desk with a computer. Flatscreen TVs hung on the wall of each boy’s room, with a DVD player on a table beneath it stacked with many of the same movies she’d seen on the plane.
Kate smelled fresh paint. “When did you do all this?”
“I had a doorway cut between the rooms the day I found out about the twins.”
Kate felt a shiver run down her spine. He’d planned this moment. He’d intended to have his sons living here. This was no vacation he’d organized for them. This was forever.
Kate glanced up at Shaw and at last saw some of the emotions he’d been so careful to hide. Triumph. And satisfaction.
“I hope my room is near the boys.” So she could grab them when the time came and make her escape.
“You’re sleeping in here.” He opened the door to the room at the end of the hall and waited for her to enter.
Kate’s heart skipped a beat when she realized he’d invited her into what was clearly his bedroom. A mystery novel lay half-read facedown on the end table. A picture of a woman with a young boy who she thought might be Shaw and his mother sat atop the chest of drawers. A shiny pair of black lizard cowboy boots, one a fallen soldier, sat at the base of a wardrobe.
“What is this?” she demanded.
“Didn’t I mention it? You’ll be sleeping with me.”
9
When the boys began to bicker, Kate knew they were finally exhausted from the excitement of the day.
“Time for bed,” she said.
“Aw, Mom,” Chance said.
“I’m not tired,” Lucky argued.
“Showers. Now.”
“Do we have to, Shaw?” Lucky asked.
Kate was incensed that her son was looking to a stranger for permission. “Yes, you have to,” she said sharply.
“You heard your mother,” Shaw said.
Kate realized it wasn’t until Shaw confirmed her demand that her sons obeyed her and trotted off to take showers in the bathroom across the hall. “I can handle this,” she told Shaw, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.
“Let me stay.”
He didn’t plead, just stood there looking vulnerable. And virile. She knew she was being a fool. He was manipulating her again, using her soft heart against her. She put herself in his shoes and imagined what it would be like to discover you had two children you’d never known existed. How you’d want to be a part of everything they did from now on. It would take someone more cruel than she was to exclude him.
But that meant she was going to have to share the bedtime ritual she performed each night with her sons. She fought back the jealousy she felt. Her sons craved a father, and Jack had taken himself out of the picture for the next four months. She should be grateful Shaw was willing to step into the role.
“All right. Stay,” she said.
“What should I do?”
She was amazed that a man as powerful as Wyatt Shaw could look so helpless. She retrieved a pair of boy’s white briefs and a set of Batman pajamas out of the overnight bag she’d brought and handed them to him. “When Lucky comes out of the shower, dry him off and put these on him.”
It occurred to her suddenly that Shaw might not know which twin was Lucky. She hadn’t yet heard him address either one by name. She eyed him askance, wondering whether he would be able to tell which twin was which, since they were truly identical physically.
A moment later, the boys came running into the bedroom, naked and shrieking, towels flying behind them, tracking wet footprints on the tile floor.
Shaw turned to her, scowling, and said, “You had them circumcised?”
Kate had a sudden vision of a naked Shaw, who wasn’t. J.D. had insisted on it. Flustered, she said, “Yes. And it’s too late to undo it now. So live with it!”
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Joan Johnston
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Nine years ago Kate Grayhawk Pendelton walked into Wyatt Shaw′s life–and out of it the next morning. Now Wyatt′s back–and has the power to shatter Kate′s future with the man she loves.By reputation, Wyatt Shaw is a brutal killer who always gets what he wants. And he wants Kate and her twin eight-year-old sons.Texas Ranger Jack McKinley is hot on Wyatt Shaw′s trail. The presumed heir to the D′Amato crime syndicate is threatening to steal the woman he loves.Holly McKinley is fighting to keep Jack from leaving her for another woman. Now the secret she′s kept for over twenty years may save their son′s life, and cost her the only man she′s ever loved.