by Lisa Childs
He shrugged. “He was worried that I might have a slight concussion.” He touched the bump on his head and winced. “Because of this. But my head is hard as a rock.” The gnawing ache in his leg that radiated out from the bump on his knee to his ankle and up to his hip bothered him more. But he’d refused to take any painkillers for it.
He needed to stay sharp in order to find out who the hell was threatening her and her son. And because he needed to stay sharp, he needed to fight his attraction to her. But she looked so beautiful in that sunny yellow dress that skimmed over her curves.
“What about your leg?” she asked, and her gaze ran down his body.
His traitorous body hardened in reaction to just that look, and it was one of concern, not desire. But then she sucked in a breath as if she’d noticed how the fly of pants was strained now.
“My leg is fine, too,” he said, and it was, since that ache had moved to another part of his body. He turned away from her and peered through the nursery doorway.
“Did I hear something?” he asked despite the silence. Connor needed to wake up so that Forrest would come to his senses, so that he wouldn’t be tempted to act on his attraction again.
Rae glanced toward the outside door instead, and her brown eyes widened with fear. “Did you? Do you think someone’s out there?”
He stifled a groan. “No,” he assured her.
But could he be certain?
He didn’t necessarily think the person who’d threatened them was out there, but he wondered about Jonah. Had his brother really left?
Forrest wouldn’t have put it past him to stick around. Ever since he’d been shot, his brothers had been extra concerned about him. So had his parents.
He needed to check in with them as Jonah had suggested, to make sure that they weren’t too upset. He was upset enough for all of them. But he wasn’t concerned about his life; he was worried about hers and about Connor’s.
If he was worried at all about himself, it wasn’t about his life but about his heart. He’d had it broken too recently for him to trust it with anyone else yet. Even Rae.
Maybe most especially Rae, who had already declared her determination to raise her son alone. She wasn’t looking for any man, least of all a disabled one who had already put her new family in danger.
“I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said. “I’m the reason you started getting those threats.” And by sticking around, he wasn’t necessarily protecting her and Connor but was probably putting them in more danger. “I’m the one this person wants gone.”
Yet here he was. He’d insisted that Jonah bring them all back to her house.
“So maybe I should leave,” he suggested.
She shuddered. “Whoever he is, he doesn’t want you just to go away. He wants you dead. He tried to kill you today.”
“And Connor could have been hurt in the cross fire,” Forrest said, guilt churning his stomach into knots. If anything had happened to her baby, he never would have forgiven himself. And neither would she have.
“That’s why I should go,” he continued. “And why I should stay away from you.”
For Connor’s sake, for hers and for his, too.
He couldn’t risk his heart again—not even for Rae. Not that she probably wanted him to. All she’d wanted from him was protection, and all he’d done was put her and her child in more danger.
* * *
Blood stained the crumpled dash of the SUV. The chief flinched as he studied the wreckage. “I want this processed right away,” he told the tech from the crime lab.
The young woman’s eyes widened with surprise. She had to be wondering why a traffic accident would take precedence over all of their other cases. But this hadn’t been an accident.
Forrest had been right to take the threat to Rae Lemmon’s child seriously. Detective Colton had paid for protecting them with his own blood. Jonah and Donovan had assured him that their brother was fine. But now that he’d seen the crash for himself...
It could have been so much worse. The baby could have been hurt, as well. Despite his sleepless night of surveillance, Forrest had done a damn fine job of minimizing the risk to other drivers on the road and to that child. Maybe Austin PD shouldn’t have been so damn quick to retire him with disability. The detective was more physically capable than his previous department and maybe he himself knew.
“We’re also looking for a white van,” he told the tech. “If one turns up—”
“Over there, Chief,” the tech interrupted as she pointed to another corner of the police impound lot.
Smoke rose yet from the burned-out skeleton of a vehicle, and a groan slipped through his lips.
“I’m not sure it was white,” the tech said. “It was already fully engaged when the fire department was called to an alley not far from the hospital.”
Had the driver followed the ambulance to the ER? Had he wanted to make certain that Forrest or the baby hadn’t survived the crash?
“We need that processed ASAP, as well,” he said.
“We’ll have to wait until it cools off, Chief,” the tech pointed out.
He nodded. “Just until...” He needed a damn lead to whoever had threatened his new detective. He couldn’t lose Forrest yet, but he suspected that he would eventually—to another, longer-term job.
His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and expelled a sigh when he saw the screen. It was Forrest. Was he already leaving?
After Archer hadn’t taken his concerns seriously, he might be compelled to quit. He walked back to his SUV before clicking the accept button. “Colton, how are you?” he asked.
“So you know,” Forrest said.
“I’m at the impound lot now,” he admitted. “You’re lucky you walked away from that crash.” Then he flinched at his insensitivity. He’d been told that it was lucky that Forrest could walk at all—after the shooting that had nearly ended his career and his life.
“That’s not the only thing I should walk away from,” Forrest said.
And Archer swallowed a curse before asking, “You’re quitting?”
“Yes,” Forrest replied.
“But I thought you wanted to find the killer, too.” Not as much as Archer did, though. Nobody wanted to find the killer as much as he did. All those years he’d spent wondering what had happened to his sister...
Was her killer the same one who’d buried the body near the parking lot of the drug company, though? Or were there two of them?
And if so, he needed Forrest Colton now more than ever. “You can’t give up yet.”
“I’m not giving up on finding the killer,” Forrest assured him. “I’m giving up protection duty.”
Archer glanced over at the wreckage and sighed. “Of course. I don’t blame you.” Not after that crash. Even though his offer came too late, he said, “I’ll send over an officer to replace you.”
“Who?” Forrest asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Archer said. “I’ll have to see who’s coming on duty, so they can stay through the night.”
“Only send someone who’s done this kind of thing before,” Forrest suggested.
Or was it an order?
Forrest unwittingly answered the chief’s unspoken question when he added, “Whoever you send will need to meet my approval.”
He clicked off before Archer could comment further, leaving the chief wondering if anyone he sent would actually meet Forrest’s approval. Just how attached had the young detective gotten to Rae Lemmon and her baby?
* * *
Rae sucked in a breath at the sudden jab of pain in her chest. It was as if Forrest had plunged a knife into her heart. He was leaving just like every other man she’d ever known.
How could he? But then how could she think that he would stay after he’d been hurt? After his sleepless night? After what he’
d said about putting her and Connor in more danger with his presence?
He must have felt her presence, because he turned away from the back door and the window he’d been staring through while he’d spoken to the chief.
“You’re really leaving,” she murmured.
He nodded. “Once my replacement arrives.”
Her skin heated with a sudden surge of anger. She wasn’t as angry with him, though, as she was with herself. Last night never should have happened; she never should have trusted him enough to make love with him.
“So much for your promise,” she bitterly remarked.
“I will make sure you and Connor stay safe,” he assured her. “And the most effective way for me to do that is to stay away from the two of you.”
A twinge of pain joined her anger. “So leave then,” she told him. “We don’t need you.” But her words echoed hollowly back to her. How had she, in such a short amount of time, become reliant on him?
She had always been so independent. That had begun out of necessity, but it was her choice now. To be alone.
“Leave,” she ordered him.
His vehicle was here, since they’d taken hers that morning because the baby carrier had already been buckled into the back seat. And hers was the one that had been wrecked.
“I’m not leaving until my replacement gets here,” he said. “I’m keeping my promise.”
She snorted. “You’re keeping your distance. What? You get scared today?”
“Yes,” he said.
She wasn’t sure if he was talking about the crash or something else.
Her?
“I was scared that something had happened to your son,” he said. “That I had broken that promise you didn’t even want me to make to you. And that scared me. It scared me that I care about him, about you.”
She gasped now, as shock surged through her, replacing the anger. “Forrest...” She stepped closer to him, but like when she had reached for him earlier, he moved away from her.
It was as if he couldn’t bear her touch anymore.
That hadn’t been the case last night.
Last night he’d uttered a ragged groan every time she’d touched him, kissed him...
“It’s because I care that I have to stay away from you,” he said.
Realization dawned. He wasn’t talking about just protecting her; he was talking about making love to her.
He didn’t want to do it again.
He considered last night a mistake.
So should she—because it had made her want something she should have already known wasn’t possible.
Someone she could count on.
Chapter 15
The young officer seemed capable enough. Since he’d worked as a security guard while putting himself through college and the police academy, he had experience with protection duty. He also looked like a body builder, so he was probably a hell of a lot more capable than Forrest was. But the thought of leaving churned his guts so much that he felt physically sick. He wasn’t ready to leave yet, so he’d sent the young officer outside to patrol the yard.
That was probably the best place for him to be with the sun setting. It had taken the chief a while even to send someone out and a while longer for Forrest to interview the man. During that time he had seen very little of Rae.
Connor had awakened, and she’d busied herself by taking care of him and ignoring Forrest’s presence. Or at least that was how he felt: ignored. Like she wanted to pretend he’d already left, like her father had left.
Was that why she’d gotten so upset about his turning over her protection duty to someone else? Because she figured he’d broken his promise like her dad had broken his promise to stand beside her mother through sickness and health?
He didn’t want to be compared to a person like that, to someone who reminded him so much of his own ex-fiancée. Shannon certainly hadn’t wanted to stick around during his sickness.
But Rae and Connor weren’t sick. They were in danger. Because of him.
The best thing he could do to protect them was to stay away from them. Surely, she had to see that was why he’d chosen to turn over the duty of guarding them to someone else. Someone like the capable, young officer outside.
He glanced out the window, but it had gotten so dark that he couldn’t see Officer Baker anymore. He could have called him, made certain he was still out there and then he could have left. But thinking about her father had made him curious about the man.
How long ago had Mr. Lemmon taken off?
Around the time that body had been buried in his backyard? Since it had been mummified, it could have been there for decades, like the chief’s sister’s body had been. It could have been there before Rae’s parents had even moved into this house. But what if it hadn’t been?
What if that body had had more to do with Rae’s dad taking off than his wife’s illness? Maybe he’d been running away from the scene of his crime.
Crimes?
Had he known Emmeline Thompson, too?
Wanting to ask all those questions, Forrest glanced toward the closed door to Rae’s bedroom. That must have been shut as a message to him, because she hadn’t closed it the night before. But then he’d been in that bedroom with her for much of last night. He’d been in that bed with her.
He longed to join her now in her bed, but he doubted she would welcome his presence. Or even the questions now swirling through his head. So instead of looking for answers from her, he began to look for them around the house.
This was where Rae had grown up, where she’d lived with her mother, and her father had lived there, too—before he’d taken off. Frames held photos of her mother and of Rae at different ages. But where were the photos of her father?
Forrest rose from the kitchen chair, grimacing over the pain shooting up and down his stiffened leg. He stood for a long moment before he trusted it to hold him as he walked. Then he headed out of the kitchen and into the living room. On the wall opposite to Rae’s closed bedroom door was a row of bookshelves. He hobbled toward those because he’d spied earlier, among the spines of books, a couple of photo albums.
Leg still aching in protest of his weight, he dropped onto the sofa next to the bookshelves and flipped open the first album. Dust fell off the top of the plastic folders and settled onto his dark pants.
Rae must not have looked at these photos in a long time. Then he realized why when he saw the man in the pictures. He had to be Rae’s father—not that they looked much alike, but in some of the photographs, he was holding a baby that looked like Connor in a pink blanket, and in a few others, he was holding the hand of a little girl with big dark eyes and brown hair who gazed adoringly up at him.
There were also photos of him with a woman who looked like a taller, willowy version of Rae. But he looked distracted in some of those photos, as his attention was either on the television or something in his hand.
Forrest leaned over the album, peering at the slips of paper. In other photos, those pieces of paper were either sticking out of his pocket or wadded up in his hands.
Betting slips?
But what did that mean?
Had Beau Lemmon been a bookie or a gambler?
And how did that relate to the mummified body in his backyard? Had that person owed him a debt? Or had he owed one to her?
Had Beau Lemmon killed that person and buried her in his own backyard, where his adorable little girl had played?
Forrest had already pegged the guy for a loser, taking off when his wife got sick, but now he wondered if he was more than that.
A killer.
* * *
Was he gone? She’d heard the other officer arrive, had heard them speak and then a door opened and closed. Had Forrest turned over Connor’s and her security to another bodyguard?
After the day he’d h
ad, she couldn’t entirely blame him. The anger she’d felt earlier with him had faded now to disappointment and disillusionment.
She’d made a mistake being intimate with him last night. Just as she’d had in the past with other men. Having sex didn’t lead to true intimacy, not the kind her friends had found with their Colton men.
She’d thought he might be worth risking her heart on.
A twinge of pain struck it now. How had she already let herself start falling for him?
She knew better. She knew that—at least for the women in her family—love didn’t last, if it had ever really been love at all. And in her case—with Forrest—she hardly knew him. So of course it wasn’t love.
It was appreciation for how sweet and protective he’d been with Connor. That was all it was.
And desire.
Her body ached with that now, so much that she couldn’t sleep. Not without him.
Resigned to another restless night, she threw back the thin sheet and rolled out of bed. She should have introduced herself to the officer. Actually, she should have been the one who’d interviewed him. After all, he was assigned to protect her and Connor. Not Forrest.
He was going to stay away from them.
For their sakes?
Or his?
She suspected it was as much for his as it was for theirs. Was he afraid of getting hurt physically again or emotionally?
That fear of his getting hurt flickered through her. The note writer wanted him gone to the extent that he’d tried to take Forrest’s life.
Maybe his staying away was for the best—for him. Maybe he should leave Whisperwood entirely. Maybe he already had.
She grabbed her robe from the back of the door and shoved her arms into the sleeves. After securing the tie around her waist, she pulled open the door and stepped into the living room.
A wave of relief rushed over her. He hadn’t left. He sat on her couch, a lock of light brown hair falling across his forehead as his head bent over something on his lap. When she identified what it was, her relief fled, leaving only panic and pain.
