Native Cowboy

by Rita Herron

  Mason raked a hand across his jaw. “I hate to say it but I agree.” He drove from the gated community through San Antonio, the lights of the city passing in a blur. “In fact, this M.O. has the markings of a sociopath.”

  “A sociopath with a cause,” Cara said. “A dangerous combination.”

  Mason nodded, his expression grave. “Damn right it is. It’s the stuff serial killers are made of.”

  Another chill swept over Cara. “So you think he’ll kill again?”

  “I hope not, but I think so.” He hesitated and raked a hand through his shaggy hair. “But a profiler would say that the killer carved out the victim’s reproductive organs as some kind of punishment.”

  “Because she gave birth and allowed her baby to be adopted,” Cara surmised.

  “Exactly.”

  Cara’s mind raced. Was this killer the same person who’d broken into her clinic? “My God, Mason. What if whoever broke into the clinic wasn’t looking for Nellie’s baby, but for more victims?”

  Mason cursed. “Then we need a list of all the names he may have taken. Those women could be in danger.”

  “Let’s get back to the clinic. I’ll look through the files tonight.”

  Mason grimaced, and they lapsed into silence as he drove back toward the Winchester clinic. A pain clutched Cara’s stomach, and she rubbed her belly.

  “Are you all right?” Mason asked.

  Cara nodded. “I’m just worried about my other patients. If you think they’re in danger, we should warn them.”

  Mason’s labored breath echoed in the tense silence. “It’s too early for that,” he said. “We don’t want to create panic until we have more to go on.”

  Cara accepted his response, but still worry nagged at her.

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?” Mason asked.

  Cara chewed her lip, debating on how much to confess. “I have received some hate mail since I opened the clinic.”

  He jerked his head toward her. “What kind of hate mail?”

  Cara shrugged. “Protests from anonymous sources, people who thought I was starting an abortion clinic.”

  “But you’re not?”

  “No,” Cara said. “I set up a women’s pavilion with OB-GYN care, prenatal and family counseling, and a social worker who helps coordinate adoptions in case single mothers choose that route.”

  Mason’s expression turned stony, but alarm flickered in his eyes. “Were there threats?”

  Cara continued to rub her stomach as another Braxton-Hicks contraction assaulted her. “Not anything specifically. Just that I should shut down. Stop encouraging women to give away their children.”

  Mason hissed. “Dammit, Cara, I need to see those letters.”

  * * *

  MASON’S MIND TRAVELED to dark places as he realized the implications of Cara’s admission. If someone had sent her threatening letters, then killed one of her patients, Cara might be in danger.

  Which meant her child was, as well.

  The thought of anyone harming her, much less her baby, made his stomach knot with fear. Dammit, he couldn’t let anything happen to her.

  His gaze strayed to her hand on her belly again, and protective instincts surged.

  Hell, he still didn’t know if she was carrying his baby. She might have a boyfriend waiting for her, one who was the baby’s father.

  He had to know the truth.

  She had closed her eyes again, her face riddled with pain.

  “When is your baby due?” he asked.

  Emotions darkened her face when she looked up at him. “Three weeks.”

  His mind quickly ticked off that information. Dammit, he could be the father.

  The memory of her holding that little girl Lacy taunted him. Cara had looked like a natural mother, loving, caring, tender.

  Just the way she was with everyone she knew. Except she would be even more loving with her own child. And she would fight tooth and nail to keep her baby safe.

  “Cara,” he said, bracing himself for whatever she said. If the baby wasn’t his, how would he feel? Relief? Disappointment?

  If it was his, what would he do? What would she want him to do?

  The answer to that question terrified him.

  But he couldn’t wait any longer to find out. He swerved on to a side road, then pulled on to the shoulder.

  Cara straightened, alarm on her face. “What are you doing?”

  “Are you with someone now?”

  Her eyes widened as if that wasn’t the question she expected. “No.”

  “You didn’t marry after I left?”

  She lifted her head in a defiant gesture. “I don’t need a husband to have a child, Mason.”

  He gestured toward her swollen belly. “Who is the father?”

  She gripped the door handle of the car as if she wanted to jump out and run. “I can’t believe you’re asking me this in the car, especially considering we’re in the middle of a murder investigation.”

  He caught her hand, refusing to let her escape. “Dammit, now is as good a time as any. If someone threatened you because of the clinic and this murder is connected to you, then you and your baby may be in danger.”

  Panic flickered in her eyes for a brief second before she masked it. “I can take care of myself and my child, Mason. For God’s sake, I’m a doctor.”

  “This has nothing to do with you being a doctor or a competent woman,” Mason said, his blood boiling. “It has to do with the fact that a crazed killer murdered one of your patients and may come after you.”

  His statement must have sunk in, because her face paled in the moonlight spilling through the car. He clenched his hands to keep from pulling her into his arms and comforting her.

  She didn’t look as if she would welcome his comfort.

  “I did the math, Cara. We were together ten months ago. So unless you jumped into bed with another man right after I left—”

  “How dare you imply that,” Cara seethed.

  “Then tell me who the father is.”

  Cara massaged her stomach again as if to protect the baby inside. “Mason—”

  “Just tell me the truth,” he said on a pained breath. “Is it mine?”

  A long heartbeat passed, then she whispered, “Yes.”

  * * *

  RELIEF AND PANIC WARRED inside Cara. As emotions played across Mason’s face, she held her breath, unsure whether to expect his temper to explode or for him to shut down completely.

  She saw remnants of both, yet a tenderness flashed in his eyes as he laid a hand on her stomach that made tears well in her eyes.

  He swallowed twice before he spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Cara averted her gaze, struggling with the memory of how hurt she’d been when he’d left her. “Because you were gone,” she said quietly.

  “There are telephones,” Mason said, a trace of bitterness creeping into his voice.

  Cara stiffened. “You made it very clear that you didn’t want a relationship,” she said. “That you thought mixed marriages didn’t work. Granted, I think that’s archaic, but it’s exactly what you said to me. So what was I supposed to do?” Her own anger shimmied to the surface. “If you didn’t want me, why would I think you’d want a child with me?”

  He released a heavy sigh. But pain underscored the anger now, making her chest clench.

  “I told you how I grew up,” he said. “You don’t know the half of it, the prejudice, what the kids did to me.”

  “That was a long time ago,” Cara argued. “And I’m sorry for what happened to you, but times have changed.”

  “Have they?” Mason barked.

  Cara’s strength rallied. “This is the reason I didn’t tell you. That, and I didn’t want you to think I was trying to trap you.”

  “No, you didn’t even try to convince me to stay.”

  Cara gasped as her pride kicked in. “You wanted me to beg you not to leave me? That’s not my style.”

>   “No, you’re independent, aren’t you? You don’t need a man.”

  “No, I don’t,” Cara said, furious. “I’ve managed on my own most of my life, and I will continue to do so.”

  She gestured toward the steering wheel. “Now why don’t you drive me to the clinic so I can check those records, then we can go our separate ways for tonight.”

  And maybe forever.

  He could finish the investigation without her.

  A dark chuckle reverberated from his chest. “For tonight, maybe,” Mason said. “But you’re crazy if you think this is over, Cara.” He gestured toward her stomach. “That baby is mine, and if he or she is in danger—” He paused. “Do you know if it’s a girl or a boy?”

  Cara licked her suddenly dry lips. “A boy.”

  Mason released a shaky sigh. “If my son is in danger, then I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  Cara’s throat closed. God, no...she couldn’t have Mason around smothering her. Worrying about her.

  Protecting her.

  Making her want him all over again.

  She had barely survived the first time he’d left.

  * * *

  MASON SAT FOR A MOMENT digesting their conversation, unable to move or focus on anything except the fact that he was having a son.

  With Cara.

  The only woman who’d ever made him think twice about settling down. The only woman who stirred his blood with a fever pitch of lust and...other emotions he refused to acknowledge.

  Because he was a cop first.

  And dammit, he had a serious murder case to solve. One which involved Cara now more than he’d first realized.

  One that potentially jeopardized her life as well as his son’s.

  His heart raced. Damn. He couldn’t let anything happen to them.

  “Mason—”

  “Don’t bother arguing,” he said, cutting her off. “Until this maniac is caught, you’re going to have to put up with me. After the case is over...then we talk about what to do about our child.”

  Cara’s breath caught, but he ignored her reaction and pulled back into traffic. She might not like it, but he didn’t intend to walk away from this baby.

  Not like his father had walked away from him.

  But what if he’s better off without you? Safer?

  That thought made his gut constrict.

  Nellie Thompson had thought she’d done the right thing by giving her baby to the Davidsons. And they obviously doted on the little girl and would give her a great life. She had been totally unselfish in her choice.

  Yet she was dead.

  And it was his job to find her killer.

  He wouldn’t stop until he found justice for the woman and her demented killer was in jail where he belonged.

  Cara rested her hands on her stomach as he drove, and he forced himself not to press the issue. They both needed time.

  As far as he was concerned, the subject of his involvement was closed.

  Traffic had thinned on the country roads, but as he neared the small town, headlights pierced the darkness. He wove through the streets until he reached the Winchester clinic, mentally making a note to call a security company in the morning. Even without this killer on the loose, he couldn’t allow her to continue working here with such poor security measures in place.

  He parked in front of the clinic and cut the lights. “Let’s go in and you can look through the files, then get those letters,” he said. “Then I’ll follow you home.”

  “Mason, that’s not necessary—”

  “Cara,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to like it, but I will do my job. There is a madman out there who cut out Nellie’s reproductive organs. A man who may be after you, so like it or not, I’m your bodyguard.”

  Emotions flitted across her face, then she seemed to concede but only because she looked exhausted, and he had pointed out the depravity of the killer.

  She reached for the door handle, and this time he made it in time to help her out. One touch to her hand, and he felt an immediate connection, a charge of electricity that reminded him of all they had shared.

  Cara looked startled for a moment, but she quickly masked it and lumbered toward the door. Jumping into detective mode, he scanned the area in search of trouble, then followed her inside.

  The files that had been rifled through still looked scattered, the place dusty from the crime unit. She gathered them up and laid them on the front desk, then flipped through them with a frown.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t see anything missing so far.”

  Mason scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Maybe the killer took photos of them or copied files from the computer.”

  Panic darted in her eyes. “Then he has info on all my patients.”

  “Don’t worry about it now,” Mason said, hating the alarm on her face. “For all we know the break-in wasn’t related.”

  Cara didn’t look convinced.

  “Now find those letters so I can drive you home.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear and stood, then walked to her office in the back.

  Mason followed, his instincts on alert.

  She unlocked a safe then removed a manila envelope from the inside.

  “You saved them all?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I thought I might need them, just in case there was trouble.”

  “Smart thinking.” He took them from her, then helped her up from the chair. The fact that she didn’t protest told him she must be totally exhausted, or frightened, or in pain.

  Or all three.

  His lungs squeezed for air as they walked outside. She settled inside her Pathfinder, then drove from town, and he followed, his heart in his throat.

  The image of Nellie’s mangled body taunted him.

  Lord help him, he’d die before he’d let that happen to Cara, or allow anyone to hurt his son.

  * * *

  HE TRACED A FINGER down her slender throat, smiling at how easily she’d fallen for his charms. Of course, the alcohol she’d consumed had blurred her mind, but that had been her choice.

  Not his.

  He had been watching her for a week now and partying was an every night outing for her.

  Tonight would be her last.

  “Come here, lover boy,” she whispered against his neck.

  The cheap motel lights glittered outside, blinking against the dingy sheers covering the window. Country music from the bar next door blared through the parking lot, echoing through the thin walls of the room and pulsing around them in a sickening thud.

  That music would drown out her screams.

  He smiled again, then slid the knife from his pocket and rose above her. She raked her fingers over his shirt and popped the buttons.

  Disgust rose in his throat.

  He refused to dirty himself with her filthy body.

  Instead when she thought he was going to screw her, he jammed the knife into her belly and twisted it. Her scream pierced the air, lost in the wailing sound of the music.

  Then blood spurted onto his hands and relief filled him. One more sinner had died for her sins.

  Now on to another...

  Chapter Seven

  Mason clenched his jaw as he followed Cara across the BBL to her cabin. He was staying a couple of cabins over while he was here and had no idea how close he’d been to her.

  If he had, would he have made an effort to see her?

  No, he probably would have avoided her. Seeing her and not having her was just too damn hard.

  When he’d first heard of the BBL, he’d known he had to join the group of ranchers who devoted time and money to help troubled boys. God knows he would have ended up nowhere if the men on the reservation hadn’t taken him under their wing. They had not only taught him how to hunt and fish, how to utilize tracking skills, but had also instilled a pride for his people and a tolerance for other nationalities.

  The one golden rule—they had a zero tolerance po
licy against hurting women or children.

  Night had set in, darkness bathing the ranch, the sound of night critters chirping and scrambling through the wooded areas echoing through the evening air. The campers had turned in by now, the camp counselors planning the next day’s events.

  The image of the boys he’d met flashed in his mind. Their stories were all different yet held similarities that bonded them to this place. Broken families, abuse, crime, poverty, orphans...

  A couple of the stories had broken his heart. TJ was six, had been in and out of the hospital because his father had beaten him so badly that now he walked with a limp and was skittish about getting close to anyone. Micky’s mother had left him in charge of his two younger brothers when he was only five. Finally when a neighbor caught the little guy stealing food from her pantry, she realized they had been left alone for almost a month. The mother had later been found dead in a crack house.

  And little Deagan’s father had left him in a garbage can at two months after his wife had walked out.

  He raked his hand over his chin. God, he’d never thought about being a father before, but there was no way he would walk out on his own kid.

  He knew the pain that caused. The feeling of betrayal, of shame, of guilt and abandonment. Hadn’t he asked himself a thousand times why his father hadn’t loved him?

  He’d assumed his mixed heritage was the reason, but deep down he’d believed he wasn’t...lovable.

  He’d never let his kid think that.

  Cara turned on to the road leading to the south end cabins, and they bypassed the area where Nellie’s car and body had been found. The image of Nellie’s stomach cut open haunted him.

  Had she been on her way to see Cara? Had the killer known where she was going?

  That thought sent a bolt of fear straight through him.

  What if he was waiting on her now?

  * * *

  CARA’S NERVES WERE on edge as she parked in front of her cabin. It had been a long day.

  First she’d spent time at the clinic at the ranch, then at the Winchester clinic in town, then that horrible phone call about Nellie. Her back was aching, and she rubbed it as she grabbed her purse and hauled herself from the car.

  Mason’s headlights loomed behind her as he rolled to a stop, and she fought the urge to rush inside and close the door, shutting him out.