The Coltons of Texas

Although she’d instinctively known the choice to abandon her was the fault of those nameless, faceless parents, working with someone had helped bring things into focus. Had helped her believe in herself and her dreams for her future.

So she marched on. And on the days when the doubt demons spoke too loudly, she practiced the techniques Dr. Johansen had given her to stay afloat.

“Yes, I’m having a baby. And yes, it’s yours.”

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

“I—” She broke off, surprise filling her at the simple question. “I don’t know. I haven’t wanted to know.”

His hazel eyes had gone nearly as gray as the wall of slate behind him. “I deserved to know, Lizzie.”

He did deserve to know. And while she’d had her reasons for waiting—namely his lifelong feelings on fatherhood—it didn’t change the fact that she’d cheated him of the knowledge he was going to be a parent.

“I didn’t want to burden you with this. I know how you feel about...about children.”

“So you thought I’d rather stay in the dark than accept my responsibilities?” His voice was quiet—too quiet—but the power of his words ricocheted around the room with all the force of gunshots.

Head high, she drew on every reserve she had. “I know how to accept my responsibilities. And I can take care of myself and my child.”

“Our child.”

Our child. Our.

She only nodded, the truth that had needled her since discovering her pregnancy blossoming into full-blown guilt. “Yes. Our child.”

“So what changed?”

“I’ve had some problems at work.”

Whatever else he’d been about to say faded as he stared at her. “What sort of problems?”

The fear that had dogged her for the past few months gripped her in tight fingers, rattling her spine until a line of shivers worked its way through her body. “Notes. Flowers. And recently, someone broke into my house.”

“Do you know who?”

“No.” Something in his gaze had her going still and words clogged in her throat.

He finally moved, dragging her close, his arms wrapping tight around her. “You don’t have any idea? None at all?”

“I can’t think of anyone.” She kept her arms at her sides, unwilling to get too close to the delicious heat that was Ethan Colton. Too afraid to draw on the strength to be found in his arms. “But the incidents began after I announced my pregnancy at work.”

“Tell me about them.” His arms stayed wrapped around her, but his hand drifted to her lower back, rubbing in small circles. Heat filled her everywhere their bodies touched, but it was that simple gesture of comfort that was nearly her undoing.

Tears gripped her throat in a hard fist and she swallowed around it, unwilling to finally let the dam break on her emotions.

“The notes are bad. And they’ve escalated. The last one was the worst. It was wrapped around a rattle in the crib I’d set up in the baby’s room.”

Ethan’s arms tightened around her while his body stiffened into implacable lines. “What did it say?”

“It said—” Lizzie winced at the hitch that caught in her throat, but pressed on anyway. “The note said, ‘I’ll be a great daddy. You’ll see.’”

Chapter 2

Ethan gritted his teeth, his jaw so tight it was a wonder it didn’t lock.

I’ll be a great daddy.

Taunting notes from a cowardly bastard, determined to scare Lizzie. Or worse.

Although he’d avoided police work like the plague, growing up with five of his siblings in various branches of law enforcement had given him a better sense of the criminal mind than the average person. Add on his upbringing and he could practically teach a damn class on the criminal mind.

But it was the “You’ll see” signing off the note that had him the most concerned. Escalating behavior that by her own assessment had grown worse over the past few months. And taunting notes that now accompanied a B&E.

He maintained his hold on her arms, but moved them both to the couch. “Why don’t we start from the beginning. Tell me everything.”

“I need to get something out of the way first.”

Those large green eyes remained steady on his, her spine arrow straight. Despite the fatigue that had dogged him since heading out to the barn the night before, something he couldn’t quite hold back sparked deep inside.

Damn, but she was a looker. And just as forthright and honest as she’d been when she was ten.

He could still picture those days. The sanctioned foster visits from the home he had been placed in to his kid sister, Josie, and the time he’d spent with her and her best friend, Lizzie. Josie had made it a point to include the gangly, awkward girl, whispering to Ethan that Lizzie had no one and he needed to be nice.

Not that he’d have ever been anything else. His father might have set a poor example, but his mother had drilled into him and his siblings the proper way to behave. And how to treat others.

Shaking off the ancient thoughts, he focused again on Lizzie. The gangly preteen had given way to an incredibly beautiful woman. She was tall—he’d estimate five-nine to his six-two—and slim. Refined. The child who’d delighted in mud pies and tree climbing had given way to an elegant young woman with a sophisticated tumble of soft brown curls that framed her face, ambition flaring high and bright in her gaze.

“Okay. What is it?”

“I didn’t do this—” She stared down at her stomach. “I didn’t get pregnant on purpose.”

“Okay.”

“That’s it?”

“Are you telling me the truth?”

“Of course.”

“Then okay.”

Ethan wasn’t a man who smiled often, but her puzzled expression nearly had him laughing. “I’m a straight talker, Lizzie. You know that.”

“Yes, but—”

“But what?”

“I didn’t expect such easy acceptance. Not about this.”

A small voice kept beating against his skull that bringing a child into the world was a bad idea, but it was increasingly outshouted by the image of a tiny infant, snuggled warm and safe in her arms. His child.

Their child.

The panic he’d have expected at the news swarmed through his bloodstream but never seemed to land anywhere. Never seemed to settle.

Ethan wanted to be angry—hell, he expected that reaction—but no matter how he turned the raw play of emotions threatening to swamp him, he couldn’t quite manage to hang on to a single one.

Except need.

A sort of bone-deep desperation that simply cut a man off at the knees.

A strange reality settled over them, charging the quiet air with sparks of electricity.

Chemistry.

They’d had it, even as children. His sister needn’t have bothered with her admonishments to be nice and friendly. He’d always had a soft spot for Lizzie Conner. And long after the visits to see Josie at her foster home had stopped, he’d had fond memories of the endless, carefree days they’d played hide-and-seek and tag and dodgeball.

He hadn’t had many carefree days in his life, and he cherished the memories.

“I’ll figure out the acceptance part later. Right now, let’s focus on what’s happening. You’re having a baby. My baby.”

The fierce possession that fired his blood was even more surprising than the visions of a tiny infant wrapped in her arms.

He was going to be a father.

And despite the piss-poor example he’d been given, he would do everything in his power to do right by his child.

Lizzie’s gaze lifted to meet his once more, and something he couldn’t quite define lit up those verdant green depths. It was too soft to be anger, yet too mild to be anything near acceptance. “This is my child, and there is nothing I won’t do to protect him. Or her.”

“Likewise.”

“Good.” She laid her hands over her belly, and he wondered if she even realized the gesture of protection for what it was. The tightness in his gut ever since he saw the bump beneath her sweatshirt loosened another few degrees, and he latched on to something a bit easier to handle.

“You really don’t know if it’s a boy or girl?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“But you’ve decorated?”

“A few things. Just some of the basics, really. The rest will come.”

The hands that had cradled her stomach settled in her lap, twisting over each other. That small show of nerves released another layer of tension, and he had to admit it had taken real courage for her to come to him this morning.

“I don’t want to rehash old territory, but you made it clear to me you didn’t want children. What’s changed your mind?”

Reality.

That lone word screamed through his mind, but he remembered their conversation, too, that night at the rodeo. His harsh implacability, even when she’d dared to suggest he’d make a wonderful father.

“I—” She hesitated before pressing on. “I understand your reasons, Ethan.”

He’d made it a personal policy never to talk about his father. And then he’d run into Lizzie, both of them attending the rodeo on lone tickets. He’d gone on impulse, the desire to escape roiling emotions he had no interest in feeling pushing him toward an evening of mindless entertainment.

And then he’d found her, standing at will call picking up a ticket she’d arranged earlier that afternoon.

Polite conversation and a shared tub of popcorn had given way to an evening together. The local stock association had made a night of it, adding a lit tent for dancing after the rodeo out in the large field adjacent to the event center. They’d talked and danced, the conversation flowing as easy as the beer.

Something had changed that night. Matthew Colton’s sins had always suffocated him, the emotional equivalent of a wool blanket in July, but that night he’d let some of it go. They’d talked, their shared history giving way to a sense of intimacy he rarely allowed himself.

He had shared with her his attitude on marriage and fatherhood. While he wasn’t averse to marriage, he knew children would be a natural expectation of his wife, and he wasn’t willing to saddle anyone with the risk.

His father’s blood beat in his veins.

Matthew Colton was one of Texas’s most notorious serial killers, currently serving out several life terms for a shocking string of murders, the last of which was his wife. The state had tried repeatedly for the death penalty, but the old man had managed to dodge the proverbial noose. And now he was dying of cancer.

Ethan had got the cancer news the same day as the rodeo. It was the only reason he’d been able to give himself as to why he’d been so honest with Lizzie. He was human, after all. And no matter how much he wanted to bottle up the endless sea of hatred he held for the old man, even the deepest waters sometimes washed up on shore.

Lizzie knew him and his family. Their background. She was safe. And he’d shared more with her than he’d ever shared with anyone.

He’d thought about calling her since then, more than once. Although they hadn’t shared personal information, he could have found her. Hell, he knew damn well it wouldn’t have taken more than a quick computer search to discover some way to get in contact. Or he could simply reverse that hour-long drive back to her home clear across the county.

But he’d held back, torturing himself with the heated memories of the hours they’d shared together, convinced she deserved so much more than he could give her.

Yet here he sat, six agonizing months later, in the crosshairs of a sobering truth. The very thing he’d spent his adult life running from had finally caught up with him.

Ethan stared at her, her large eyes solemn as she held his gaze. With gentle fingers, he reached out and brushed a soft curl behind her ear.

“My reasons don’t matter anymore. From this moment on, we discuss our child. We make decisions for our child. Together.”

* * *

There were those words again. Our child. As if Ethan Colton was an anxious, expectant father, excited to finally welcome his son or daughter into the world.

Don’t get attached, Lizzie girl. It never ends well.

Shaking off the reality of her life along with the warmth of his touch, she stood. She couldn’t allow herself to become dependent.

Or to need him too much.

“I haven’t told you everything yet.”

That tough demeanor had returned to his gaze as Ethan stood, matching her toe to toe. “You mean the notes.”

She nodded, then took a deep breath. She’d practiced on the car ride here, working through how she’d tell him.

Calm. Cool. Controlled.

She’d imagined those words, then imagined what they’d feel like, willing her emotions to match.

So how mortifying to feel the sting of tears pricking her eyes.

“Come on, Lizzie.” He took her hand and pulled her to the couch. “We’ll deal with it. Whatever it is.”

She wanted to fight the delicious warmth of his hand wrapped around hers, but it felt so good. And so safe. The endless days of thinking herself in the throes of some pregnant mania had given way to a sobering reality, and it felt good to have some support, even if it would ultimately be fleeting.

So she kept her hand in his and launched into her story.

“I think you know I’m a loan officer for a bank, in their corporate office. We have responsibility for about thirty counties in Texas and a sister office in Austin that covers the southern portion of the state. It’s a sizable territory, and there are about eighty of us.”

“It sounds like a good job.”

Was a good job, Lizzie lamented to herself before she pressed on. “It is. I was well respected and getting more responsibility. I made it clear to my boss that this is my career and I’m committed to it.”

“And they got upset when you announced your pregnancy?”

“That’s what was odd. Not only was my boss excited, she wanted to throw me a shower. Said this was happy news and that I’d make a great mother.”

She saw the confusion stamped on Ethan’s face and knew it was a match for her own. The conversation she’d dreaded from the moment she’d discovered her pregnancy had instead confirmed she’d been working for the right employer. The office consistently preached work-life balance and family values, and their reaction had only confirmed that ethos.

They were happy for her.

“So what’s with the notes? It doesn’t sound like anyone has an ax to grind.”

“A few weeks after my pregnancy became office news, the notes started. I’d waited until I’d passed my first trimester, but you can only hide the proof for so long.” A small laugh bubbled up at that, the maternity clothes she’d purchased early on a giveaway of her condition, even to the few who hadn’t heard the news. “As I said, my boss was excited, and once I gave her the okay to mention it, all she could talk about was baby clothes and a shower and stuffed animals.”

“Is it possible someone at the office got jealous? Maybe someone who couldn’t have a child? Joy in others often makes what we can’t have even worse.”

“I don’t think so. I mean, we’re a relatively young staff and several other coworkers have had babies or the fathers have taken paternity leave. There’s nothing out of the ordinary in being pregnant.”

“Did you keep the notes?”

“Not right away. The first couple I threw away. I know it was stupid, but I didn’t want to give them any credence or an ounce of my time. But after I got a few more I took them to the police.”

“Did they put someone on your case? Someone who could watch out for you?”

“For a few days, but when nothing else manifested they had to prioritize something more important.”

“That’s a load of bull. You were obviously threatened.”

“And they tried. A detective came to work and asked questions, and several officers drove by my home. But what were they supposed to do, Ethan? The threats stopped for a while, but they can’t watch out for me indefinitely.”

“What about the flowers? Did the detective follow that lead?”

“Yes, and it was a dead end. The florist was questioned, but the payment was in cash and the name given for the sender ended up being fake.”

Ethan snorted at that, his disgust palpable. While she was inclined to agree with him—especially staring down a series of creepy notes—she also knew the police had to deal with real cases.

Real victims.

Until the last one.

“They’ve called several times since to check on me, but once the rattle came I’d had enough.”

“What did the good detective say about that one?”

“It was hard for him to say anything.”

“Why’s that? You had evidence. Something that likely had prints.”

“I’m sure it didn’t. The few notes they analyzed had no fingerprints. Whoever’s doing this has been careful. Besides, it didn’t matter.” A hard shiver gripped her despite the warmth of the room. “The rattle disappeared.”

“What? When?”

“Two nights ago. When I got home from work. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I left it on my kitchen counter, but when I got home it was gone.”

“Do you have a security system?”

His simple, direct questions calmed her, and she focused on his words. On answering each query instead of on the reality of what she was dealing with. A monster.

“I never saw the point. I don’t live in anything extravagant.”

“You’re a woman alone. You should have protection.”

“I realize that now. But I quit the next morning and packed up my stuff. I can’t afford to leave my job, but I can’t stay. I can’t, Ethan. I can’t.”

The panic she’d managed to hold at bay reached up to swamp her, the shivers turning into coarse waves of terror.

Someone wanted to harm her baby.

And they had no problem going through her to reach their goal.

* * *

Erica Morgan dug her keys out of her purse and hotfooted it through the crisp early morning air. Why did the parking lot of the Granite Gulch Saloon always look so forlorn and empty in the daylight?

Even with the vivid blue sky overhead, the gray gravel parking lot seemed to suck up Mother Nature’s attempts at brightening the day.

A wicked gust of wind kicked up and she ignored a hard shudder as she stuck the key into the lock of her old pickup. Wow, was it freaking cold. February had been a bitch so far, and the weather reports suggested they were in for at least another week of the bone-chilling cold. All she wanted was her bed and the thriller whose pages still beckoned from her bedside table.

She could have been wrapped up in her grandmother’s old quilt already if she hadn’t volunteered to do inventory after closing. But the owner paid well for the overtime, and besides the thriller, it wasn’t as if she had much else to do.

Of course, she hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the back office, either. The sound of crunching gravel outside the window had finally woken her up and it had taken her several moments to figure out where the heck she was with her cheek stuck to a clipboard.

Erica shook her head and stuffed a free hand in her pocket while she jiggled the lock. Stupid truck.

The lock finally flipped open, and she jumped into the cab that was nearly as cold as the outside temperature. The only saving grace was the absence of wind. The engine turned over a few times before finally catching, and she slammed the heat on high, not even remotely hopeful her old beater would be warm by the time she pulled into her spot in front of her apartment.

She gave the truck a moment to warm up and considered the noise that had finally brought her awake. What was outside Hal’s office at eight in the morning? Unwilling to stick around and make an introduction to some Texas wildlife, she’d left Hal a note to check her numbers on the new keg orders and headed out. She’d have to remember to tell him about whatever it was sneaking around—coyotes, probably—she thought as she put the pickup into Drive.

The early morning sun caught on something in the distance, and she hit the brake. Leaning forward over the steering wheel, she tried to make sense of the flash she’d seen.

A mirror?

The light flashed once more, and she had the vague sense of a pair of binoculars before it vanished.

Without stopping to question why, Erica slammed her hand over her door lock and peeled out of the parking lot. She just needed to get home.

And once she did—once she was wrapped up in Nana’s quilt—she’d think about what she saw.

And then she’d tell Hal there was someone creeping around outside the Granite Gulch Saloon.

Chapter 3

Ethan shoved his feet back into his work boots, his conversation with Lizzie louder than crashing cymbals in his head.

A stalker had threatened her. The police were about as helpful as they usually were. And he was going to be a father.

“It’s certainly been a hell of a morning, Colton.”

He finished tying off his laces and got to his feet, embarrassed to be caught talking to himself when he saw Lizzie standing at the entry to the kitchen. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry.”

“For speaking the truth? I can hardly blame you for that, Ethan.”

“I don’t usually do that.” He wasn’t crazy, and he hated anything that might make him appear as if he was.

“I talk to myself all the time. Most of the time I’m better company than the majority of people I know.”

Ethan couldn’t quite resist her wry grin and once again was struck by how enticing she was. Sunlight spilled through the mudroom, highlighting her features. She was too tall to be considered delicate, yet there was something ethereal about her. As if she were made of spun sugar and would float away at the slightest touch.

Since he already knew she tasted better than an entire bag of cotton candy, he shook off the fanciful notion and pointed toward the back door. “I need to go check on Dream.”

“Your horse? Joyce mentioned she was having some issues when she let me in.”

The reminder that his foreman’s wife had already met Lizzie—and no doubt hadn’t missed the pregnancy bump—only made what they’d shared that much more real. Joyce wasn’t a gossip, but she would be beside herself at the news there was a baby on the way.

“She had a rough night, but the vet thinks she’s back on track.”

“May I go with you? To see her?”

He’d been raised with six siblings, none of whom loved animals with quite the same bone-deep affection he had. On the rare occasions they got together, his siblings were forever teasing him about his preference for a barn instead of a party.

“You really want to?”

“Oh, yes.” Color ran high on her cheeks, and her enthusiasm was contagious.

“Bundle up. The barn is cold.”

She slipped into a large puffy coat and Ethan watched, fascinated, as the material stretched across her stomach. He didn’t want to be caught staring, but he couldn’t quite hide the continued mix of shock and satisfaction that gripped him. That bump was his child, warm and safe, protected by Lizzie’s body.

Since that thought quickly led to how the child had got there, he pushed aside the primitive thoughts and gestured her out the door.

“Winter’s been colder than usual.” Several puffs of breath punctuated her comment.

“It’s always a crapshoot in this part of the state, but we’ve definitely got our fair share. Reports keep saying we’re due for at least two more storms before the month’s out.” Ethan took her arm to help her over the dented dirt path that led to the barn and made a mental note to fill in several of the larger divots.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, their breathing the only sound between them. Ethan opened the door of the barn and gestured her through, then followed her down the long corridor that held stalls branching off on both sides.

From behind he couldn’t see any difference in her shape, and a strange—and altogether unexpected—thought popped into his head. His sister Annabel had mentioned a friend who “carried high” and claimed it was a boy.

Was Lizzie carrying his son?