Close Range Christmas

by Nicole Helm

  “That’s ok—”

  “Would you let me talk?”

  “It’s just, if you say it now, it’s only because of the baby. Because of danger. It wouldn’t be real if you said it now.”

  He understood what she meant, and yet he didn’t find himself nodding in agreement. There was a denial inside of him, and that meant all he had was the truth. “I don’t understand half of what I feel about you, but it’s all real.”

  She inhaled sharply, but she didn’t let him go. She didn’t wriggle away. She held him tighter. “Then show me.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  For the first time in her life, Sarah woke up next to a naked man. It was quite an interesting position to be in.

  In the early morning light, she could study him. The blanket was only pulled up to his waist, so his entire upper body was bared to her. All the things she hadn’t been able to see last night. The impressive lean muscle of his arms from all the work he did. The smattering of dark chest hair.

  There were scars. She wanted to trace them, find some way to soothe those old hurts. Those old betrayals.

  She’d told him she’d loved him and he hadn’t run away. Granted, she’d been throwing herself at him in the moment, but still. He’d stayed. He’d made love to her anyway.

  She knew he’d take his time, and he’d make sure that what he felt was love, and that he could give it to her. Which didn’t make it hard to wait for an answer, all in all. He’d find those answers. He was just a little on the slow side when it came to emotional stuff.

  He’d get there. He wouldn’t have slept with her if he didn’t think he could get there.

  Slept with her. She couldn’t help the silly grin that spread across her face. The world around them might be falling apart thanks to their shared half brother, but together she finally had everything she wanted.

  And wasn’t that the way? Hopes and dreams never seemed to come true conveniently, and danger never seemed to wait for the appropriate moment to make an appearance.

  His eyes blinked open. He stared at her and then the room around them. “It’s morning.”

  “Seems to be.”

  He got up on his elbows, frowning at the door. “No one woke me up for my turn as lookout.”

  “I mean, or they didn’t...want to interrupt.”

  Dev blinked once, and then a slow horror crept over his expression. She couldn’t help it. It made her laugh.

  “I’m glad you find it funny,” he grumbled, tossing off the covers and getting out of bed.

  Sarah watched avidly and with some disappointment as he pulled on boxers, then jeans. He grabbed socks from his dresser and when he sat down to put them on, he did so on her side of the bed.

  He looked down at her, still lying on his pillow. She was sure her hair was a tangled mess and she likely looked as haggard as she felt. Still, he reached out and smoothed some hair off her cheek with a gentleness that had a lump forming in her throat.

  “You haven’t had any contractions?”

  Despite the emotion swallowing her whole, she was determined to play this off as no big deal. If she convinced him it was just normal, just good, maybe he wouldn’t talk himself out of it. “No, your penis did not spur me on to labor.”

  He rubbed his hands over his face, but he ended up laughing. “You always say the damnedest things.”

  She grinned at him. “It’s part of my charm.”

  He stared at her so long the grin started to die. It was too serious a look, too serious a study.

  “It is,” he finally said, with great gravity. “Are we really going to do this? Love each other. Raise this baby together. Be a family. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  And there it was. On another man she might call it uncertainty. But she’d been there when he’d survived being beaten near to death by his own father. It was a caution ingrained in him from all the ways life hadn’t been fair.

  But in that tragic, unfair childhood he’d had Jamison. And Grandma Pauline. So she truly believed...he had the capacity to move past that caution. If given the right push. “I conned you into being the father of my baby, didn’t I?”

  “I’m serious. I know you set a goal and go after it. I know you accomplish everything you want to. It’s who you are and... I admire that about you. But you have to be sure this is really what you want.”

  She had to take a breath at that, because as much as she loved him, she wasn’t so sure he saw her for what she was. Wasn’t sure anyone did. She had walls and facades of her own.

  But he’d cut to the heart of her. “I imagine there will be some surprises along the way,” she said slowly, trying to work through the right words. But sometimes there was no right word, no plan. There was only...honesty and heart. She didn’t like those times, but she knew if she was going to get through to Dev on a permanent level, she’d need to offer that to him. “Some hard times. But...we’ve already done that. I don’t know why it would change. Not when we love our ranches, our families. We want to raise this baby together. It’s not some fairy tale I’ve envisioned. It’s what we already have. Only together.”

  His hand was still on her face, still gentle. He seemed to sit and carefully absorb each word. Then he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her mouth. “I’m going to go make sure nothing happened last night.”

  She nodded, but she pulled the covers back. “I’m coming too. But it’ll take me about an hour to get there so you go ahead.”

  He helped her out of bed first, but then he left the room while she got dressed and then headed for the bathroom. She wasn’t haven’t contractions, but she definitely felt weird this morning. Maybe she just needed to eat.

  After pulling her hair back in a sloppy ponytail, she headed for the kitchen. She stopped short at the way a majority of her family was huddled around the table. Felicity and the girls were missing, as were Duke, Rachel and Tucker—who were probably out doing chores.

  “Oh, no. What is it?”

  “Brady’s letter came,” Dev said flatly.

  “How?”

  “Knives,” Brady replied, his voice void of any inflection. Sarah stepped closer and there were a variety of daggers in plastic bags on the table. Along with the letter. She assumed they’d put the knives in the bags in the hope there’d be fingerprints on them—but Sarah doubted it.

  “What does it say?”

  “‘Brady Wyatt,’” Cecilia read before her husband could, acidity dipping from every word. “‘Crimes: The subject has been the perpetrator of a wide variety of crimes since childhood. Extreme stalking, harassment, kidnapping, manslaughter and treason. Sentencing: For these acts, I do hereby sentence Brady Wyatt to death. This will be meted out at the judge’s discretion through the method B. Wyatt will remember from his father.’”

  Sarah turned her gaze to Brady. Clearly he knew what that last line meant, but he made no effort to explain, didn’t want to explain.

  At least, until Cecilia slid her hand over his on the table. Then he let out a long sigh. “It’s knives. Ace used to throw them at me. I’m pretty sure the six knives on the door were Ace’s.” He gestured to the blades on the table. “Like, actually his collection. Passed down to Anth, with the stories of what Ace did to me, I assume.”

  “Well, you don’t go outside, he can’t throw knives at you. Problem solved,” Cecilia said fiercely.

  Brady’s mouth curved slightly, as if he was trying to offer Cecilia a reassuring smile and failing.

  Rachel, Duke and Gage came inside, snow clinging to their hair. They were still wearing their coats and boots instead of leaving them out in the mudroom. “Another letter?” Duke said gravely.

  Brady nodded.

  “Take off your gear now and come eat. All of you sit down and eat,” Grandma Pauline insisted. She frowned at Rachel’s back. “What’s on your coat, sweetheart?”

&n
bsp; “My coat?”

  Grandma Pauline reached out for the back of Rachel’s coat, but she stopped short. “Duke.”

  “What is it?” Rachel demanded.

  “Don’t move,” Duke said sharply. His gaze moved to Tucker, who moved around to Rachel’s back too.

  Tucker swore, but it wasn’t an angry kind of swearing. There was a horrified note to his tone.

  “What’s going on?” Rachel demanded. She started to reach back, but Tucker took her hand.

  “You’ve got a note pinned to your coat,” he said, his voice rough.

  “What? That’s impossible.”

  Everyone at the table immediately got up and crowded around Rachel’s back. Sure enough, there was a piece of paper safety-pinned to the back of her coat.

  Tucker’s letter.

  Tucker Wyatt

  Crimes:

  The subject has been the perpetrator of a wide variety of crimes since childhood. Following in his brother’s footsteps, he has committed treason with the terrorist North Star group, along with falsifying evidence, and involvement in false arrest and imprisonment.

  Sentencing:

  For these acts, I do hereby sentence Tucker Wyatt to death. This will be meted out at the judge’s discretion through the method T. Wyatt deemed acceptable through his own connection to the terrorist group.

  —AW

  “He broke the pattern,” Sarah said. “He didn’t try to hurt Brady first before he delivered Tucker’s letter.”

  “Someone get some gloves and get this off her,” Tucker snapped, which was rare for the usually even-keeled Tucker.

  Sarah turned to Dev. “What do you think it means? He broke the pattern.”

  Dev’s eyebrows drew together. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. He says we all committed treason, and the only betrayal we could have done in his mind would be against the Sons. Family? Ace? Maybe it all...culminates on Christmas?”

  Jamison worked to get the safety pin and letter off of Rachel’s coat without disrupting any potential fingerprints.

  “So where’s yours?” Tucker said.

  Dev inhaled sharply. Sarah slid her hand into his. She had a terrible feeling about all this—about Dev not getting one first, or with this back-to-back set. About everything accelerating beyond the pattern she was still struggling to make sense of.

  “I don’t know,” Dev said, squeezing her hand. “I really don’t know.”

  * * *

  THAT NIGHT, Dev listened as Jamison outlined all the local police were doing, and how the feds were getting involved.

  “No prints on anything. The bomb was dangerous. It could have done some significant damage and they’ve sent it on to the feds to see if they can track down who bought the materials. But as for evidence we’ll be able to use against him? Nothing.”

  Dev didn’t feel in any way, shape or form comforted. Nor did any of his brothers.

  The letter on Rachel’s coat was the biggest concern. Had he been in the mudroom and put it on the coat? It seemed unlikely that hadn’t been noticed until after they’d come in for chores. But how had Anth, or whomever, gotten close enough to pin it on to Rach’s coat without her knowing?

  “It’s impossible. Both scenarios are impossible. She wasn’t alone for no one to notice and someone would have noticed beforehand.” Tucker stalked the kitchen. His normal calm demeanor even in crisis was gone—probably since the note had been pinned to his fiancée’s actual person.

  Sarah was the only woman in the kitchen. Cecilia had taken Rachel upstairs under the guise of wrapping presents—but what Dev was sure was an effort to take her mind off the fact that Anth had possibly been close enough to touch.

  Liza and Nina were giving the girls baths, and Grandma Pauline was doing laundry while Felicity and Duke were in the living room encouraging Claire to walk.

  Life went on, even as it was threatened.

  “They’ll run the prints on the knives, the new letters, and look for any kind of DNA on Rachel’s coat, but hard to believe he’d leave anything,” Jamison continued. “And we’re using up a lot of the county’s resources while not being able to fully work.”

  Tucker swore under his breath. All his brothers looked grim. Dev glanced at Sarah. She was standing there, worry lines etched across her face as she rubbed her stomach.

  She’d been the one to focus on the pattern. The idea it wasn’t as cut and dried about Ace as they might think. She was the one to put the idea in his head.

  This was about him. His brothers might be getting the notes and threats—but the absence of him getting one meant something.

  Dev had the horrible hope it meant he could do something about this. But he’d have to face Anth alone, and he knew no one in his family would go for that.

  There was the option to sneak out, but Dev figured that caused more problems than it could solve. He needed his brothers on his side, and he...didn’t know how on Earth he’d convince them to let him handle it.

  But convincing them in smaller groups was his only chance. He looked around the table, then up at Sarah, who was standing at his shoulder. He wished he could get rid of her, but she’d never leave. She’d assume they were going to make plans without the women, and she wouldn’t budge.

  So he somehow had to win Sarah and his brothers to his way of thinking.

  Good luck.

  “I think I should go out and do the evening chores on my own.” Because he was no orator or persuasive speaker. There was only what he thought and what should be done.

  “Right,” Cody said sarcastically. “Hop on out there. We’ll just huddle up in here and see what happens.”

  “Well, why not?”

  “Because it’s idiotic,” Sarah said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Possibly the stupidest thing I have ever, ever heard you say.”

  “I have to agree,” Jamison said.

  “He didn’t leave me a note. That means something.”

  “Maybe you’ll get one tomorrow. We don’t know what he’s doing.” Gage shook his head. “Patterns or not, we don’t know how to predict what a psycho is going to do. I don’t think giving him an easy target is in anyone’s best interest.”

  Dev wasn’t so sure. A target was...action. It was something. It could spur action and that could spur reaction. He could tell he wasn’t going to get anywhere with them, though. Too many noble souls, and Dev found he didn’t want any of them to sacrifice that.

  So, he’d have to figure out another way.

  “All right. I’ll have Duke go with me.” Maybe one-on-one outside he could convince Duke to let him go off on his own. His family would be pissed, but someone would know where he was.

  Dev stood and headed for the living room, but Sarah followed, stopping him in the hallway by grabbing his arm. “I know that look. That’s my look.”

  “What look?”

  “A goal. A plan. One you don’t want anyone to know about. Grim determination to do things your way, no matter the cost.”

  He looked down at her and sighed. “I just said I’d get Duke. No going outside alone, so I’m getting your father—you know, the other rancher in this house.”

  “Aside from me.”

  “You’re out of commission for the time being, Sarah. You know that. Now, the evening chores need to be done with what little daylight we have left.”

  Still she didn’t let go of his arm. “Don’t do anything stupid. Promise me.”

  He looked at her and hated how much worry was there. How valid it was. “I don’t have a death wish.”

  “Anymore.”

  He smiled a little, if only because it was fair enough. “Anymore,” he agreed. “It has to end, and I’m the one... I don’t have a letter. I should have been first.”

  “He warned you. You got an ‘it’s not over’ letter.”

  “I shoul
d have been first. I wasn’t. We got two sentencing letters in one morning—and one wasn’t for me. I’m the only one who’s met Anth. Who even knew he existed. You’re the one who said there’s a pattern that has to mean something.”

  “So what if it does?”

  “Sarah. At some point, this has to end.”

  “That doesn’t mean you’ll be the one to end it alone. We have to end it together.” She gave his arm a shake as if to get through to him. “So, promise me.”

  He didn’t know how to promise her something so nebulous. Especially when she didn’t mean don’t do something stupid, she meant don’t get hurt. He couldn’t promise that.

  “I love you,” he said instead, because there was a very good possibility of getting hurt, and she deserved the words. “And I love our baby. I absolutely want to be around. I’m not going to run off half-cocked because I’ll let my guilt force my hand.”

  “But?” she demanded, tears heartbreakingly filling her eyes.

  “But, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my family. I have to.” He placed his hand over her stomach. Any day now, that baby would be born. Any day now, he would have a child in his arms. His own. “I’ll do everything I can to survive, but survival means nothing if we don’t win.”

  “It’s not about winning.”

  “Maybe win is the wrong word. I don’t know what the right one is. I want you all safe. I want this over. I want a life. We all deserve one. If I’m the target or the center or the purpose, I can’t wait around for him to decide how to end it. You’re going to have this baby any day now. We need this danger taken care of. Now.”

  She blinked up at him, a tear falling over on her cheek. It tore him in two. Even if she’d been a little more emotional since she’d gotten pregnant, it didn’t ease the pain of seeing her cry. Of knowing he was making her cry.

  He wiped away the tear for her and she sniffled. She shook her hair back and glared up at him. “If anything happens to you, I’ll kill you myself,” she said, and then stalked away from him down the hall.