“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 rece
ntly 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.
Shattered Page 3
