by Robin Perini
She pasted on a smile. "Of course." She climbed out and held her hand to him. He grabbed it.
Blake led them into the house. "How about we make chili for dinner?"
"I like spicy," Ethan said, staring at the floor.
Blake raised a brow. "Really? How hot?"
"He downed a box of Red Hots at two years old. He pops jalapenos like they're candy."
"Whew. Hot it is." Blake headed to the kitchen and pulled down a pot.
"Mommy doesn't like spicy," Ethan said, his voice worried.
He gripped Amanda's hand as they followed Blake. Her heart cracked at the loss of laughter she'd witnessed less than an hour before. Why was this happening? Why couldn't the fear just go away?
"Don't worry, Ethan. I'll take care of your mom." Blake pulled some ground meat from the freezer, popped it into the microwave and grabbed some seasonings from the cupboard. "She gets a special bowl." Blake turned toward Ethan. "Do you see any jalapenos?"
He glanced up at Amanda, and she nodded, easing Ethan forward with a gentle push. "I bet they have some."
Ethan examined the cupboard. He took out a can and handed it to Blake.
"Thanks." He tossed the peppers into a small pan. "You want to help me make the chili?"
Ethan nodded and bit his lip.
Blake picked him up and set him on the counter. "You know, buddy, my little boy, Joey, used to make chili with me."
Ethan didn't respond, just poured in a teaspoon of the spice Blake gave him.
"It's pretty scary right now, isn't it?"
The boy nodded and looked over at his mother. Her tremulous smile hurt Blake's heart. He wanted to comfort both of them, but while he'd told Amanda the truth about other investigative possibilities, they were slim. Cops knew better than most how to cover their tracks. He had to believe Vince had sent them here with enough information to save their lives. Every instinct within Blake told him Vince had given Ethan the key to the evidence. He just had to help the boy remember. He hated having to push Ethan, but he had no choice. Not with Vince's house a pile of ashes. They couldn't hide here forever. Eventually someone would track them down.
"Your uncle Vince saved you, didn't he?" Blake said as he showed Ethan how to stir the simmering peppers and spices.
"Blake--" Amanda warned. "I want him to forget."
Blake met her defensive gaze. "Ethan's brave. He can do this."
"Uncle Vince said be brave." Ethan stuck his thumb in his mouth, his legs dangling from the kitchen counter.
Blake grabbed the defrosted meat from the microwave and dumped it into the large pot. "You know what? I forgot to wash my hands. Can you go into the bathroom and wash yours before we get any more germs in our dinner?"
Ethan nodded and Blake set the boy down. As soon as he left earshot, Blake turned on Amanda. "I know you want to protect him, but he saw Vince die. All we can do now is give him the knowledge that justice exists. That the murderers will be punished. He knows who did it, and I think Ethan wants to tell me but he's scared. We have to find out why."
She sucked in a deep breath, and Blake crossed the room and clasped her hands in his. "I won't hurt him, Amanda, but I need him to remember. For his future. And yours."
Her sad eyes broke his heart, but she gave him a slight nod. He let out a slow breath at the small show of faith.
The meat sizzled as Ethan came into the room. He walked straight to Blake. "It's cooking. I can hear it. I want to help."
He lifted the boy on to the counter. "How can I make chili without my number one assistant?"
He smiled, and for several minutes Blake just let the boy stir. "You were very brave the night your uncle was hurt. I need you to be brave again. Can you do that? Can you help us?"
Ethan shook his head violently side to side, his eyes filled with tears. Amanda started across the kitchen, but Blake held up his hand, stopping her. He faced Ethan. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you or your mom. If that means we go live far away from here, then we'll do it."
Ethan stared at Blake. "You won't let them hurt Mommy?"
"Who said they'd hurt your mommy?"
"The man with the boots." Ethan sucked in a shuddering breath and looked around the room. He pulled Blake's head down close. "He told Uncle Vince if anyone talked, they'd die."
Ethan buried his face into Blake's arms. Ethan's shaking body tore at Blake's soul.
"When you talk, you die," Ethan whispered.
Amanda choked down a sob. Blake fought to control the anger boiling deep inside. He held Ethan just far enough away so he could see every expression playing on the boy's face.
"Do you believe I can protect you?" he asked, praying he'd gained the little boy's trust.
Ethan thought for a moment, biting his lip. "You saved me from the tractor," he said solemnly. "You saved me and mommy from the bad men. You took us away from the police."
Finally, he nodded his head.
"Then, I need you to tell me the truth. No matter how scared you are." Blake placed his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Do you know who hurt your uncle?"
Ethan looked away. "A man with funny boots. Uncle Vince said he was a policeman."
"Did Vince say the man's name?"
Ethan shook his head. "I snuck out after the man left. Uncle Vince was hurt. He told me to go to Blake." Ethan looked up. "That's you."
"That's me. Did he say anything else?"
Ethan wrinkled his nose in thought. "Joey's in the clouds."
Blake rubbed his forehead and a wave of pain washed through him. Why had Vince mentioned Joey? It didn't make sense. Unless he was trying to make sure Blake helped them.
"Why were the man's boots funny?"
"They had dragons. Like in the stories Mommy reads me."
"Custom-made," Blake mused. He smiled at Ethan. "You did good, buddy. I'll get the bad guys, Ethan."
"Keep Mommy safe." The boy frowned in worry and fear.
Blake looked over at Amanda, at her pale face and delicate features, her haunted expression. "Whatever it takes."
Chapter Nine
The lieutenant slumped back in his leather chair and hitched the heel of his custom-made boots over the stone hearth while the fire crackled in front of him. He'd commissioned the dragon design from a craftsman in Dallas. Despite the risk, he'd never go east of the Mississippi for a pair of boots.
"They're not on the Triple C Ranch, but Logan knows something." Johnson's voice filtered through the phone.
No way they could let Logan Carmichael get away with his silence. No matter what government alphabet soup he came from.
"Get our friends at the Department of Public Safety to review Carmichael's P.I. license, taxes, anything you can. Find something. Adjust the information. He almost lost his family's ranch once. Let's see how he reacts when he's faced with losing his home again."
"That'll take time."
"No excuses. He needs to learn who to get involved with and who to avoid." The lieutenant stared at the original Remington hanging on the wall of his library. He'd fed the story that his father had invested in Apple before the iPod to explain away the painting and the remodel. Anyone who counted believed him. "What about Blake's mother?"
"We checked out her house. Saw signs that she left in a hurry. Half-eaten breakfast, back door unlocked."
"Stake it out. Take care of her. Blake needs to know we mean business." He swirled a hundred-year-old finger of cognac. Now down to the real business. The real risk to everything he'd built. "Whose bright idea was it to send our man to blow up Vince's house with Blake and the Hawthorne woman inside?"
The phone went silent. The lieutenant smiled. Fear and uncertainty were great motivators.
"You said you wanted the boy alive and the evidence destroyed. Blake and Amanda were expendable."
Johnson was so easily intimidated. His voice trembled. It should.
"The situation has changed. Who ordered it? No, let me guess. Farraday likes large fires and explosions. He doesn't kno
w the meaning of the word subtle. You inform him he gets a free pass this time. One more mistake, though, and he pays."
Johnson cleared his throat. "Sir, this is getting out of hand."
"Do I pay you to think?"
"No, sir."
The lieutenant could picture the wimp cringing. One thing about Farraday, he might barrel in, but he had some guts. Johnson's conscience put him on a suspect list that made the lieutenant's gut burn.
"I didn't think so. Our forensic computer expert found some very interesting evidence in my system." He rose and hurled the priceless crystal tumbler into the fire. Flames flared as the cognac hit.
"We have a mole. You and Farraday wouldn't have any idea about that, would you?"
"No, sir." Johnson's voice shook.
"Change of plans," the lieutenant barked. "I need to know who betrayed me. I need the evidence. I want them alive--for now. And Johnson, keep Farraday under control. You're partners. What happens to one, happens to the other."
"But--"
"No excuses. I'm taking care of your loose ends. By tomorrow night, we'll have Redmond and the Hawthornes cornered. Amanda Hawthorne's life on the run won't end well. Sometimes, the good guys have to shoot to kill.
"Before they die, though, we get what we want. If they don't give us the evidence..." the lieutenant paused "...we take them apart piece by piece until they do. Starting with the boy. A few screams from her kid should convince even Blake to spill his guts."
* * *
AMANDA TOOK ONE LAST LOOK at Ethan snuggled in bed with Leo at his side. He would miss the dog. Maybe, once they settled... She closed the door quietly not wanting to think about the future ahead of them.
"Is he out?"
She started at Blake's voice but nodded. "He's had a long day."
"I contacted Logan. He's looking into the boots."
Amanda didn't want to face Blake. She knew what she had to do, and he wouldn't like it. She didn't respond to him; she simply shrugged into the oversize coat and walked onto the back porch. The chill of the night stung her cheeks.
Blake followed as she expected. She could feel the warmth of his body standing too close behind her. Everything was happening so fast. Her life falling apart, but more than that, the way Blake had wrapped himself around her heart. She'd miss his nearness. Even preparing for a confrontation, she took comfort in his strong presence.
She stared into the night, the stars glittering like twinkling diamonds on an endless black field. "Ethan and I are taking off in the morning," she said, her voice a whisper, although the words shouted into the dark.
"I wondered what had been going on in that head of yours. You were too quiet on the plane." Blake clasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. "Don't run yet. We have another lead."
She couldn't let him convince her to stay. "We thought Vince had the evidence. There are too many uncertainties. I'm sorry. My gut tells me to go. I have to think about Ethan."
"You'll look over your shoulder the rest of your life."
"Not if I'm smart and careful."
His glittering eyes bored into her. "You'll be alone. Unable to trust anyone."
"I've been alone for a long time."
"Not anymore," Blake said.
He leaned closer. She could barely breathe, his big body overwhelmed her so. She didn't want to look at him. He squeezed her shoulders and didn't speak. Finally, she raised her gaze.
"You really want to run?" he asked.
"I don't see a choice."
"Then you'd better get ready for company because I'm going with you. You're stuck with me, Amanda. I'm not letting you out of my sight. Not until these men are caught."
He pulled her close to him and she trembled, shaking her head, her forehead rubbing against his wool sweater. "You can't. You have a life here. A town that needs you. Family."
"I lost my son to these men. I won't let the same happen to you. You don't get to decide this, Amanda. If you leave without me, I'll track you down."
She tried to tug away, but he trapped her against the railing, the scent of his aftershave wafting over her and making her head spin with temptation.
He lowered his head to her ear. "You can't stop me," he whispered, his breath warm against her face. "You need me."
"It's not fair to you," she said, trying to resist the emotions overwhelming her the closer he pressed. "Ethan is my responsibility."
"Joey was mine," Blake said. "And I would have done anything not to lose him. Even take help. Will you?"
She clutched his sweater in her fists, her heart aching. "Why are you doing this? I just don't understand. You could wash your hands of us right now. Go back to your life."
"I knocked out a cop for you, honey. Remember? I was there when Vince's house burst into flames. I'm on the run, too. There's a lot more evidence now than the Austin cops had before. And they almost sent me to jail then."
"Tell them I made you break in. Tell them I threatened you."
He laughed. "You believe they'd accept my being coerced by a little thing like you?"
A frigid gust of wind snaked its way beneath her coat. She shivered. "I'm trying to do the right thing, Blake. I'm afraid," she said. "For Ethan. And for you."
His face softened. "I know, but you can't give up, Amanda. Not yet. We're closer than we've ever been." He pulled her into his arms, holding her against him, warming her from the inside. "Besides," he said, his voice low and husky, "I don't want to say goodbye to you. Not yet."
The growling undertone sent a quiver through Amanda; her nerves exploded to life as his hands rubbed her arms. He enveloped her, and the heat emanating from his body wrapped her in a cocoon.
"You've got me whether you want me or not."
If she ran, he'd keep coming after her. And he'd find her. He was too good at his job.
She sighed. "I'm too tired to fight you anymore. Don't do this."
"What? Warm you?" He bent his head and his lips skirted her cheek. "Touch you?" He hovered over her mouth. "Kiss you?"
She didn't want to resist. For once in her life, why couldn't she have what she wanted? Throwing away caution, she grabbed the back of his head and pulled him to her. His lips took hers with certainty. The taste of him made her quake with longing.
"Help me forget," she whispered.
"Then touch me," he whispered. "Show me you want me."
Amanda's hands trembled as she wrapped her arms around him. She pressed herself against his hardening body, her softness crushing against his, soaking up his warmth. Her mouth parted under his and she ventured a taste of his lips, desperate to lose herself in all of her senses.
He swung her into his arms, holding her close and protected, cradled in his embrace. "This time we won't stop." His pulse raced at the base of his neck.
She grasped his sweater. "I don't want you to."
"So be it."
He carried her into the dark and quiet house, flipping the dead bolt before crossing the living room to the bedroom. She let her head rest against his chest. His heart thudded, the rhythm soothing and terrifying all at the same time. When he nudged the door closed, her body thrummed in readiness.
"Last chance," he said, his voice husky.
She touched his lips and stared into his eyes, flaring with want and passion. When had someone ever wanted her as much as Blake?
"Make love to me. Make everything go away for a while," she whispered. For once in her life she wanted someone who wanted her this much.
His eyes burned hot in response to her words. Slowly, he lowered her feet to the floor, but he didn't let her go. He shifted closer. He reached out a hand and laced his fingers through hers before cupping her cheek with his rough palm. He paused, as if waiting for her to pull away. She couldn't. She'd told him the truth. She was past resisting. His gaze held her captive.
His finger-light caress followed her neck and rested against her pulse point. Her heart skipped a beat in response.
"I make your heart race," he said qui
etly. He clasped her palm and slipped it beneath his sweater, holding it to his chest. "Feel what you do to me, Amanda."
The strong thud, the transparent passion on his face made her quake with want. "Please," she said as she clutched the flannel of his shirt.
The corner of his mouth tilted in satisfaction, but his hand moved slowly, dragging out the anticipation. He lowered his hand to her collarbone, trailed to her shoulder, baring the skin as he pushed aside the soft fleece of the sweatshirt, slipping his hand underneath.
"You're like silk."
Her nipples hardened and, as if reading her mind, his hand moved to the soft mound. He cupped her breast and his thumb flicked against the hard nub. A flash of pleasurable pain clenched in her lower abdomen. Her body sang with each mind-numbing caress.
He pulled away, leaving her panting, throbbing, her body begging for more.
She didn't speak. She grabbed his hand with hers and pressed it back to her breast. "Touch me," she said. "Hold me. Make me feel again."
She'd deal with the consequences of letting herself be vulnerable to him. Tomorrow. Right now she wanted to forget everything, and lose herself in his arms.
"I'm not letting you go."
His voice had gone low, turned into almost a growl. A frisson of anticipation pulsed through her at the intensity of his expression.
He backed her gently to the bed and tugged off her sweatshirt. She sank into the mattress, waiting and wanting. He paused as he looked at her. Bare breasts, nipples hard and begging for him, a bandage surrounding her torso. His gaze lowered and he touched the area of her injury. "Does it still hurt?"
"It's healing."
He lowered his head and tasted the curve of her breast. "Let's see if I can distract you." He closed his mouth over her nipple, and his tongue did things she never imagined possible. She squirmed underneath him as her body pulsed with desire, her legs grew restless. She wanted more.
She gripped his head, pulling him closer, but when her hand shifted beneath the wool of his sweater and she encountered the flannel material of his shirt, she moaned. "I want to touch you. I want to feel you," she said. "Take it off."
