by Rita Herron
A travel-size shampoo and conditioner sat in the shower caddy, a small make-up bag on the bathroom vanity.
An image of the blonde naked in his shower taunted him.
Banishing the image, he returned to the bedroom and rummaged through her suitcase, looking for information about his guest. The suitcase held another pair of jeans, two T-shirts, and three long sleeved shirts, all in various pastel shades.
Beneath the pile of clothes, he found lingerie—satin and lace panties and bras that were so sexy they made his cock harden.
Damn, he was pathetic if underwear was turning him on. The last thing he needed was to lust after any woman, much less one in trouble.
Especially one with a kid.
That path was too dangerous.
He carefully tried to place the garments back as she’d left them, then unzipped the zipper pouch on the outside of the bag.
His pulse hammered. This was what he was looking for—some kind of ID.
Only when he opened the manila envelope, out slid a wad of cash and three different pieces of identification.
All with pictures of the stranger in his house. All three boasting different names.
Tammy Langley. Collette Watts. Loretta Cagle.
The gut instincts that came with his job surged to life. What the hell was going on?
Could she possibly be in WITSEC? Or was she an identity thief, or a criminal using different IDs to escape being apprehended?
“CeCe, honey, I hate to do this, but if anyone asks here in town, my name is Kat.”
CeCe scrunched her nose into a frown. “Who am I going to be, Mommy?”
Kaylie sipped her coffee. When they’d first gone into hiding, she’d presented the fake names as a game. At first, CeCe had thought it was fun.
But it was wearing on both of them.
“Who do you want to be?”
CeCe chewed a forkful of pancakes. “I wants to be CeCe and go back to the ranch with the horsies and make sprinkle cookies for Santa Claus.”
Kaylie ached that she couldn’t give that to her. “I know. Just a little longer, baby, and I’ll figure out how to make that happen.” The door opened to the diner, and a man in a sheriff’s uniform strode in, his gaze sweeping the place.
God, she hoped the police hadn’t figured out what kind of car she was driving now. That sheriff might recognize the Pathfinder and detain her.
If he took her in for questioning, she might lose CeCe.
And if Arnold and Rafferty had been killed by someone in law enforcement, turning to him for help could be dangerous.
Kaylie pulled the brim of her hat lower and dipped her head to speak to CeCe. “Finish your breakfast, sweetie. We need to go in a minute.”
CeCe swallowed a swig of orange juice then set the glass down with a thunk. “I’ll be Dora. Like Dora the Explorer.”
Kaylie smiled. “Good thinking. Dora, you can help me explore the town.”
CeCe brightened at the idea and gobbled down the rest of her pancakes while Kaylie finished her eggs and coffee. The sheriff bypassed them with only a minor nod of his head.
A second later, he slid in the booth across from them with a tall man with a goatee who raked his gaze over Kaylie with interest. He had long sideburns, a cleft in his chin and a scar below his left eye.
Kaylie tugged her daughter’s hand in hers, and they walked to the register to pay. But as she closed her wallet, she sensed someone watching her.
Her skin prickling, she peered sideways through the window as they left, and realized the man with the sheriff was still watching her. Operating on autopilot, she memorized his features. A long face, hazel eyes, black Stetson, western clothing.
Did he work with the sheriff? Did he know who she was? Had Buckham hired him to kill her?
Mitch stewed over how to handle the situation as the Pathfinder barreled down the drive toward the farmhouse. From his vantage point on horseback, he watched the SUV come to a stop.
The woman slid out, her long legs unfolding gracefully, then hurried around to help the little girl with her seatbelt. The nymph jumped down from the seat and proceeded to spin in circles as she ran through the grass while her mother unloaded four bags of groceries and carried them inside.
Four bags of groceries meant she was planning to stay longer than one night.
Were they all for her and the child, or was she expecting company?
The little girl started doing cartwheels, her body bouncing and falling as she struggled with them. But she didn’t seem to mind that she messed up. Instead, she turned her face up to the sun and danced around again, then belted into an off key chorus of Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.
Todd had loved that song, too.
Grief clogged his throat for a moment as he pictured his little boy running through the fields with this freckled-face child.
The woman stepped onto the porch. “Come on inside, honey.”
The little girl bent to pick up a rock. “But I wanna stay out here and play.”
Her mother shaded her eyes with her hand and stretched, looking down the drive toward the road. “All right, for a few minutes. But if you see a car, run inside.”
“’kay!” Another failed cartwheel, and the girl landed on her head. She laughed though as she got up and tried again.
A second later she twirled around and noticed Todd’s tree house. She squealed, raced over and climbed the ladder. Mitch’s heart skipped a beat. He could still hear Todd laughing as they nailed the wood boards together, craning his neck, shouting that he could see for miles from the top of the oak.
Mitch kicked Horseshoe’s sides, sending her into a trot, mentally debating how to approach the intruder.
He couldn’t let her know who he was or that he was a Texas Ranger.
Former Texas Ranger.
The chestnut bounded down the hill across the pasture, slowing as they approached the front yard.
The little girl suddenly spotted him, scrambled down and ran for the porch. Her scream sent a shudder through Mitch and made him feel like a heel.
Dammit, he hadn’t meant to scare her.
But he wasn’t the one trespassing.
Seconds later, the screened door opened, and the woman stepped outside, the little girl clutching the woman’s leg as she hid behind her.
He froze, bringing Horseshoe to a halt as she raised a gun and aimed it at his chest.
Kaylie clutched the gun with a white-knuckled grip.
Beside her, she felt CeCe’s anxiety. God help her, she hated that her daughter had to be scared. Especially when five minutes ago, she was laughing and turning cartwheels in the grass and singing about Rudolph like a normal five-year-old.
The stranger on the horse slowly raised his hands as if in surrender. “Don’t shoot, ma’am. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Kaylie’s hand trembled. “Who are you?”
The tall, rugged cowboy tilted the corner of his black Stetson, his eyes narrowing. Those eyes were coal black. His jaw chiseled and angular. His lips thick and pressed into an angry slash of a line.
Not the man from town.
If she wasn’t scared to death, he was there to kill her and CeCe, she’d think he was handsome.
“Name’s Mitch, ma’am. What’s yours?”
Kaylie tensed, struggling to remember the cover name she’d chosen. “Kat.”
“And yours, pumpkin?” Mitch asked with a smile toward CeCe.
CeCe wiggled behind Kaylie. “CeCe.”
So much for Dora. CeCe inched one toe up beside Kaylie but still clung to her side.
Mitch’s gaze cut toward her daughter, and something akin to pain flashed in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you, CeCe.”
The breath Kaylie had been holding eased from her chest. If this man was a hired killer, he would
n’t apologize for frightening CeCe. He’d just pull a gun and shoot them.
“That’s a pretty name.”
CeCe grinned. “My daddy picked it.”
“Is your daddy here?” Mitch asked.
CeCe pointed toward the sky and shook her head. “He wents to heaven. Mommy says I can talk to him anytime I want, but I tried and he don’t talk back.”
Kaylie winced, hoping Mitch would drop the subject.
“I’m sure you miss him,” Mitch said. “But I bet he hears everything you say to him.”
“What do you want, Mitch?” Kaylie said, unnerved by the big man. She didn’t want to have to leave here tonight, but she would if necessary.
“You bought the place?”
Kaylie chewed the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t go so far with her fabricated story to declare that she’d bought the ranch. What if he wanted proof?
“No, we’re just staying here for a little while, maybe till the house sells,” Kaylie hedged. Unless Buckham found them first.
“Then you’re renting?” Mitch asked.
Kaylie shook her head, searching for a plausible explanation. “I’m a real estate agent. Properties show much better if someone’s living in them and if they’re cleaned up. I thought I’d stay here and spiff up the inside so it would sell after the holidays.” She had done that before. Not stayed in the house before, but dressed it up.
“I see.” The saddle squeaked in the tension that ensued as Mitch shifted on the horse. “Do you mind putting the gun down, ma’am? You’re making me and Horseshoe nervous.” He patted the horse’s long neck for emphasis.
Horseshoe? Surely a killer wouldn’t name his horse Horseshoe.
Still, she couldn’t trust anyone.
But she did lower the gun slightly, mostly for CeCe’s sake.
Kaylie guarded her words. “Do you know the owner of the ranch?”
The man gave her a long assessing look which made Kaylie want to squirm. But she resisted, determined not to draw attention to herself.
“We never met. But he called me and said he put his place on the market and asked me to come by and do some painting for him, inside and out. Said he planned to be out of touch for a while, but he’d leave me a check at the bank.” He hooked his thumb toward the hill on the left. “Said I could stay out in the cabin on the creek.”
Kaylie turned in the direction Mitch pointed and spotted a small rustic cabin in the distance. She hadn’t realized it was there, but if he was staying in the cabin, he’d probably seen her arrive.
CeCe’s nails dug into her jean-clad leg. “Mommy? Can I pet the horsie?”
Kaylie heaved a weary breath, survival instincts urging her to run. But she’d promised CeCe they’d stay another night, and she couldn’t bear to break her heart.
But what if this man wasn’t who he said he was? What if he was working for Larry Buckham?
Or what if the owner called Mitch, and he found out she’d just told him a pack of lies?
Mitch lifted a hand slowly to make sure he didn’t startle the woman. Kat, that’s the name she gave, but he’d bet his badge that she was lying.
“I think Horseshoe would like to be petted,” he said gently.
The little nymph’s eyes lit up, blue eyes like her mother’s, he noted, her freckles dancing across the bridge of her nose. But instead of running over, she hesitated and turned her face up to Kat. “Okay, Mommy?”
The tension lining his intruder’s face softened, making her look young and vulnerable, and so gorgeous that his chest clanged.
Then she ran a hand over her daughter’s hair with such love that he nearly choked. How many times had he scrubbed his hand over Todd’s unruly hair with affection?
Jesus Christ. If every movement the woman and kid made brought a lump to his throat, he had to get them off his property fast.
“Sure, sweetie, just be gentle.” Kat tucked the gun into the waistband of her jeans, then took her daughter’s hand, and together they walked down the porch steps.
Mitch dismounted and patted Horseshoe’s flanks. “Hey buddy, there’s someone here that wants to meet you.”
CeCe fluttered her hand in a wave to the animal, a simple childlike gesture that touched Mitch again. He held the reigns, keeping the chestnut steady as the little girl stroked his side.
“You want me to lift you up so you can pet his neck?” Mitch asked.
She nodded enthusiastically, dimples flashing. His gaze met Kat’s, the wariness in her mother’s expression tearing at Mitch.
She was afraid for her daughter?
Why? Had someone hurt CeCe?
Kat’s husband? CeCe’s father? A boyfriend?
Anger surged through him, but he tamped it down as he lifted the child so she could reach Horseshoe’s mane.
She was nothing but a baby in his arms. The idea that someone had hurt her triggered his protective instincts.
“You know animals sense when people are nice and when they love them,” he said in a gruff voice. “They sense who they can trust.”
His gaze met Kat’s again, and a flicker of understanding appeared in the depths of her bottomless eyes. Eyes that had known fear.
The eyes of a mother who would do anything for her child.
Whatever she might have done at that moment, illegal or not, he didn’t care.
He would make sure they were safe from whatever they were running from.
Kaylie watched her little girl pet the horse under the supervision of the cowboy, her heart in her throat.
She’d always believed you could tell a lot about a person by the way they treated animals and children.
He was both commanding with the horse and gentle at the same time, using a low voice to introduce Horseshoe to CeCe. Where his sharp gaze had scrutinized her moments before, those same troubled, dark eyes softened when he looked at her daughter.
“I think he likes you,” Mitch said as the horse nuzzled CeCe’s palm with his nose.
CeCe giggled. “I like him, too.”
The sound of CeCe’s laugh made Kaylie ache all over. “He’s gentle,” she said as she glanced up at the cowboy. “Has he been around kids before?”
The softness in Mitch’s eyes vanished, a wall of steel sliding down over his chiseled jaw. He gave a brief nod, then lowered CeCe to the ground. “I guess I should get to work.”
CeCe shifted back and forth between her left and right foot. “Can I ride Horseshoe?”
Kaylie could have sworn anguish flashed across Mitch’s face. “Not right now, sweet pea.”
“Please, please, pretty please with sugar on it,” CeCe pleaded.
Kaylie squeezed her daughter’s shoulder. “Come on, honey. Mitch said he has work to do, and we’re keeping him.”
CeCe dug her sneaker into the dirt. “But I wants to ride like a real cowboy.”
Kaylie wanted to snap at CeCe for being petulant, but CeCe had been through so much the last few months that she bit back a chiding comment.
Mitch saved her by squatting down to CeCe’s eye level. “You be good and help your mommy, then we’ll see. Okay?”
CeCe’s face brightened. “’kay.”
Mitch looked up at Kaylie. “What do you plan to do inside the house?”
Kaylie shrugged. “First I’ll give it a thorough cleaning.”
“And we’re gonna get a Christmas tree and put up decorations,” CeCe chimed in.
“Did you plan to paint the inside?” Kaylie asked him.
Mitch swung his big body back up in the saddle. “Do you think it will help sell the place?”
Kaylie nodded. “Yes. I’d use a neutral shade through the house. It’ll make it look fresher and make the rooms feel larger.”
Mitch tipped his hat. “Then pick out a paint color, and I’ll get started after I repair the fe
ncing around the property.”
Kaylie pulled CeCe back against her and stroked her arms. She should have told him no about the painting, but her professional experience wouldn’t allow her to lie. Of course, giving the rooms a facelift would make the farmhouse show better.
But could she handle this sexy man inside the house with her and her daughter?
And what if he wasn’t who he said he was? Would she and CeCe be safe with him?
“Do you know where they are?”
Buckham gripped the phone with a clammy hand. It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. He should never have gotten caught. The woman never should have identified him.
And the jury shouldn’t have believed her since she’d never seen his face. She’d only heard his voice.
But the bitch had been so convincing with her tears and drama and her story about saving her little girl that those damn twelve strangers had sunk his ass with a guilty verdict. Worse, they thought he was that fucking, sick jerk who was going around killing families.
He almost laughed at the irony. Him a serial killer?
Hardly.
“I asked you if you know where they are.”
“I’m close.” He could smell it. After all, the woman was an amateur.
And his lawyer had friends in high places.
Soon he would get his revenge.
The next few days Kaylie spent the mornings cleaning the house. CeCe followed her from room to room, chatting about the horses outside and singing Christmas carols while Kaylie dusted, scrubbed, pulled down curtains and washed them. She stripped the throws off the furniture, polished the antiques and mopped the floors, shining them with wood floor cleaner.
CeCe played in her room and had invented an imaginary friend, a little boy who liked to play hide and seek and loved horses as much as she did. Kaylie was worried about her but finally decided that CeCe was simply lonely. When this ordeal ended, she’d enroll CeCe in a kindergarten so she could make some real friends.
Kaylie washed all the bedding in the house, cleaned the braided rugs and scrubbed the bathrooms until the porcelain shown. In the attic, she found a trunk filled with linens for the mahogany dining table and washed them, then set the table using the Battenberg lace and a set of rose china tucked away in an old chest.
