“I will be a father to my child,” Ethan said. “You won’t be alone.”

Lizzie pushed on a bright smile and ignored the pain that drummed against her heart.

Ethan Colton would be an amazing father to their child.

And that was all he’d be.

Shake it off, Lizzie-girl. Shake it off.

The fantasy she’d warned herself against over the past six months—ever since that night at the rodeo—curled against the corners of her mind with reaching fingers. Although she knew it for the emotional foolishness it was, that small, hopeful piece of her had wondered if there could be more with Ethan.

“That’s a lot to take on, Ethan. Especially with all the issues I’m having back at home.”

“Issues we’ll face together.”

She sensed him before she felt him, the light press of his fingers against her shoulder drawing her attention.

“Lizzie. I mean it. You’re not alone.”

“I’m always alone.”

“I can only imagine how scared you’ve been,” he said, “but we’ll get to the bottom of it. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Except you.

* * *

We hope you enjoy this dramatic series:

The Coltons of Texas—Finding love and buried family secrets in the Lone Star state …

Colton’s Surprise

Heir

Addison Fox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Texas transplant ADDISON FOX is a lifelong romance reader, addicted to happy-ever-after. There’s nothing she enjoys more than penning novels about two strong-willed, exciting people on that magical fall into love. When she’s not writing, she can be found spending time with family and friends, reading or enjoying a glass of wine.

Contact Addison at her website—www.addisonfox.com—or catch up with her on Facebook (addisonfoxauthor) and Twitter (@addisonfox).

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For Martha & Larry and Danielle & Scott

Families are both born and made. I’m so grateful you’ve made me one of yours.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Extract

Special Excerpt from Colton Baby Homecoming by Lara Lacombe

Copyright

Chapter 1

Stars winked like diamonds in a sky black as pitch, the cool Texas night buffeting him with a thick wind. Frost covered the ground, crunching under his feet, a sure sign winter wasn’t yet done with them. Ethan Colton kept his head down and ignored nature’s display as he trudged toward the barn and the pregnant horse one of his ranch hands had called him about.

“Boss! Glad you’re here.” Bill Peabody, his ranch foreman, waved him over to the last stall in the barn.

“Where’s Doc Peters?”

“On his way.”

Ethan nodded and took in the scene before him. His favorite filly, Dream, wasn’t due to deliver for about six more weeks. But her heavy breathing and wide-eyed fright suggested her new foal wasn’t prepared to wait for spring.

Ethan dropped to his knees beside Dream, his hands gentle when he reached out to stroke her neck. “Hey, baby. Shh there, beautiful girl. It’s okay.”

His gaze drifted from the clear lines of pain that suffused her dark brown face on down over the sleek lines of her body. The filly’s rib cage contracted hard with her labored breaths, and the distended belly—the telltale sign of her pregnancy—quivered almost of its own accord.

“Think we can stop her from delivering?”

“Doc told me to keep her comfortable and as still as possible until he got here.” Bill paced next to the stall. “Says he’ll know better after he looks at her.”

Bill’s words kicked up an odd twist of memory—absolutely unbidden—of another night long ago. But with an outcome that had no hope of ending well.

Those memories had become more frequent of late, his brother’s recent tussle with their father stirring it all to the fore. With the iron will he’d honed through the years, he pushed the ever-clear memory away and focused on Dream.

She was his pride and joy, along with the rest of the horses in his stable. The years of hard work, building something that was his own. That no one could taint.

He’d be damned if he’d sit by and let her suffer. Or see to it he didn’t do everything he could do to make sure she had a healthy foal.

Bill worked with him in silence as they followed the vet’s instructions, keeping Dream as calm as possible while they waited for help. He was pleased to see her breathing even out a bit as they settled a blanket beneath her head and several more to support the long length of her back.

“Babies are a tough thing. They’re natural but not normal.” Doc Peters bustled in, his cheery smile at odds with the still-sleepy eyes and tufts of gray hair that stuck out all over his head.

“Not normal?” Ethan kept his voice low, not wanting to spook Dream, but he couldn’t keep from questioning the vet.

“Of course. Pregnancy is a natural state, but it’s hard on the body.” Doc Peters dropped to his knees, his lithe form belying what had to be at least forty years of caring for large animals. “But we’ll take care of Dream here, won’t we, sweetheart.”

Ethan kept a calming hand on Dream’s neck but said nothing more, allowing the doctor to do his work. The vet inspected the horse, his hands following all the places Ethan’s own gaze had roamed for the past twenty minutes. After several endless moments of inspection and even more checks with the stethoscope, Doc Peters got to his feet.

“You ready for a long night?”

Ethan stared up at the doc’s slim figure, standing over his horse. “She’s having the foal tonight?”

“Not if we can help it. But we do have to get him turned around. There are two pairs of long, long legs pointing exactly where they don’t belong.”

Ethan took solace that the doctor seemed in control of the situation and nodded his head. “Tell us what to do.”

* * *

The frigid night had given way to a cold crisp morning, and Ethan breathed in deep as he headed for the ranch house. He’d spent hours worrying they wouldn’t be able to help Dream, but Doc Peters had been a pro. Bit by bit, he’d managed to turn Dream’s foal back into position. Ethan knew they were out of the woods now, but he hadn’t missed the concern that had stamped itself deep in the grooves on Peters’s face around four that morning.

Things had been more than touch and go for a while, and Ethan had barely dared to believe things could end well, convinced he needed to brace himself for the worst. For the inevitable.

Yet the doc had done it. Dream was on her feet and happily grazing on a fresh batch of oats Bill had poured just for her when Ethan finished washing up in the sinks in the barn.

Now all he could think about was a hot shower and roughly a gallon of coffee. He might even manage something beyond the breakfast sandwiches he typically microwaved each morning. In fact, he thought he remembered seeing a rasher of bacon in the fridge the last time Bill’s wife, Joyce, did a shopping order.

The back door swung open under his hand and he caught himself. Hadn’t he locked it when he headed out?

The smell of coffee accosted him and the mystery of the back door vanished as he imagined Joyce over here, putting on a pot for when he got back. That woman was gold, and he’d have to remember to thank her later.

He dragged off his boots in the mudroom and turned for the kitchen. The distinct scent of bacon assailed him just before the soft, subtle hum of a popular country song followed.

But it was the woman who stood before his stove that had Ethan going still.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

* * *

Elizabeth Marie Conner—Lizzie to the few who knew and loved her—already knew she was pushing beyond acceptable boundaries by coming here in the first place. Since she figured she had to get this over with, she might as well add bacon to the mix.

Men loved bacon. Heck, there were whole websites devoted to the very best part of the pig. And based on what Joyce had said when she’d let her in, Ethan had just spent a hard night.

She was smart enough to know the bacon wouldn’t go all that far to soften the blow she was about to deliver, but she was hungry as a horse all the time, and it would make her feel better.

“That’s some welcome.”

The man had the sense to look contrite, and she took it as a good sign. But when a quick shot of something warm and hungry flitted through his gaze before those rich hazel depths turned cold once more, Lizzie pressed a firm hand to her fluttering stomach beneath the oversize sweatshirt she’d tugged on for the visit.

Ethan Colton was anything but cold.

And she’d had six months of very warm memories reminding her of that fact.

“You can imagine my surprise to find a woman cooking me breakfast.”

Lizzie did her best to keep her body facing the stove, only turning to eye Ethan over her shoulder. “Joyce let me in. Said you were having a tough night with one of your horses. How is she?”

“Good. Fine.” Talk of his horse seemed to mellow him a bit more, and he crossed to the pot of coffee. “Want some?”

“No, thanks. I’m not a coffee girl. No one at work can understand it but—” She broke off, the reality that there was no work any longer more bitter than she’d expected.

“But what?”

“Nothing.”

Ethan poured his coffee and, after doctoring it with a sugar and some creamer from the fridge, moved to the long island counter at her back. “Look. I’m sorry for my greeting. I’m tired and I didn’t expect anyone to be in here when I got back. And—”

He stilled, a small smile edging his lips. “And that’s lame. I’m sorry for my greeting. How are you, Lizzie?”

She’d thought she was prepared. Had believed she could keep her emotions in check and her mind clear for all that was still to come between them.

Oh, how wrong she’d been.

Those hazel eyes—the ones that were an amazing mix of green and brown and several spots of gray—drew her in and touched something deep inside she couldn’t quite define.

Need? Yes.

Desire? Yes.

Love? She was so not going there.

Even if she had harbored feelings for him since she was young. He was the big brother of her best friend in foster care. As a lifelong foster child, she’d known full well that getting attached was a bad idea, but she’d gone and done it anyway. Josie Colton had been her best friend, and her older brother Ethan... Oh, how Lizzie had looked forward to those visits he’d made three times a year to see his sister.

Until it had all ended with nothing but empty promises and long, lonely days without her best friend.

So when he’d appeared like a dream six months ago at a rodeo they were both attending, she couldn’t shake off the chance to see him again and spend some time together.

“Lizzie? How are you?”

She pulled herself back from the thick morass of memories and unfulfilled wants. “Good. I’m good.”

“You look good—” He broke off before he added, “But you always look good. No one I’ve ever met has green eyes quite like yours.”

She stilled, the bacon popping and crackling, as she braced herself for what she had to do. Flipping off the stove, she moved the bacon to the back burner and turned around and looked her fill.

Her gaze roamed, hungry, over the sandy-brown hair she knew was the texture of unrefined cotton. On down over the broad shoulders that seemed custom-made for a woman’s hands. And then over the broad chest that was banded in thick sinew, from the hard swath of his pectorals on down to the ridges of muscle that framed his stomach.

The man was a vision, and the sweet boy she’d had a crush on had grown into a formidable man.

Get it together, Elizabeth Marie. Stop ogling him and tell the man the reason you’re here.

Yet even as that steely voice—the one that had pushed her through college and on into becoming the youngest loan officer at her bank—whispered to her to just come out with it, she couldn’t help but indulge the woman’s need that had her stopping for a moment. It was rude to stare—hadn’t one of her foster mothers taught her that?—but she couldn’t quite help herself.

She’d look her fill, because after this morning things would never again be the same.

And as Ethan’s gaze traveled its own path, over her face, a tentative smile quirking his lips, she knew the moment when something else registered.

Knew the moment that smile faltered when he caught sight of the very clear bump that had replaced her normally flat stomach.

“Lizzie? What—”

A loud popping sound pulled her from the moment and Lizzie turned on a hard exhalation. “Oh, no!”

Even though she’d moved it off the heat, the bacon had continued cooking in the oil and had gone crisp to the point of burning.

“Let me.” Ethan moved into her space, gently pushing her aside as he grabbed the thick cast iron off the stove. He tilted the pan over a pie plate she’d already set aside, layered with paper towels to absorb the grease.

And as she watched the bacon slide from the skillet, the grease that had cooked out sliding along with it, Lizzie felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.

Clamping a hand over her mouth, she ran toward the mudroom and prayed she’d make it to the back door in time.

* * *

One moment he was staring into eyes of the most vivid green, fresh as a spring day, and imagining things he most definitely should not be imagining. Then his mind had taken an entirely different tack as his gaze settled on her stomach.

And then Ethan was watching Lizzie Conner race out of his kitchen as though Satan’s hounds were nipping at her heels.

He slammed the skillet back on the stove, then raced after her. What in the blazing hell was going on?

Ethan heard the hard slam of the back screen door and the distinctive sounds of retching just as he came upon the entryway. As clear as a bell, Doc Peters’s words screamed through his mind.

Babies are a tough thing. They’re natural but not normal.

“Lizzie!” He pushed through the door, his mind whirling with a thousand thoughts, all louder than the cicadas in August.

But the thought that screamed the loudest was to get to her.

He closed the short distance between the door and the bushes that rimmed his back patio and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her as she leaned forward once more. He kept one hand on her arm while the other gathered the thick, curly strands of her hair into a firm hold.

“Shh. It’s all right.”

Heat suffused her cheeks, and he felt the same warmth radiating from her slim shoulders as he pulled her close. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, no.” The words came out in a mix of half squeak and half moan as she straightened. “Oh, Ethan. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Those slim shoulders straightened right up and she pulled out of his hold. The soft strands of her hair slipped through his fingers, and he was surprised at how bereft he felt when nothing but cold morning air took their place.

“What’s going on, Lizzie?”

Pregnancy is a natural state, but it’s hard on the body.

Those damn words continued to taunt him, the unspoken truth hovering between them more powerful than the tornadoes that whipped through Texas in spring.

“Can we go back inside?” Her lips quivered, and he quickly shrugged out of the old sweatshirt he’d shoved on the night before.

“Layer up. It’s only February.”

He took her hand and pulled her toward the house. Something in his chest turned over when she dragged the ratty old Dallas Cowboys sweatshirt on over her head, her stomach pressed against the material of the sweatshirt she already wore. She was a slender thing, tall and willowy, but even with another thick layer of material covering her torso, her stomach still bore a definitive bump.

It was no trick of the morning light through his back windows. Nor was it some fanciful play of imagination after a long night without sleep.

The flat stomach he’d explored on a sensual journey one lonely night was nowhere in evidence. And after living with a head full of erotic visions for six agonizing months, he knew damn well his memory wasn’t the least bit faulty.

He’d explored every inch of Lizzie Conner’s body. Had tasted every soft dip and expanse of her skin. Had buried himself deep inside her, allowing every one of the long, lonely years they’d held in common to fade away in the joy of being together.

Ethan stopped himself, pushing away the sharp tang of awareness that made him want things he had resolved never to have.

The scent of bacon still lit up the kitchen, and he shot a concerned glance at her. “Do you need me to throw out breakfast?”

“No!” She shook her head before wrapping her hands tight around herself. “No, I’m fine now.”

“Why don’t we go into the living room. It’ll keep for a few more minutes.”

“Drain it first. Please. It was—” She broke off, swallowing hard. “The grease was what turned my stomach. If you don’t drain it, we can’t eat it later. I just need to slip to your powder room for a quick minute.”

He directed her down the hall, then did as she’d asked with breakfast. He snatched up one of the slices as he patted the rest dry with paper towels, knowing full well he needed a heck of a lot more fortification than a few pieces of bacon.

But a man took what he could get.

And braced himself for the news he was going to be a father.

* * *

Lizzie ignored the pale face that stared back at her from the mirror and deftly swished her mouth out with water. She’d thought she was past tossing her cookies after the first trimester, but there were still some things with food that sneaked up and caught her unawares.

Now bacon grease, she mentally chastised herself, adding to the growing list that also included raw chicken, onions and pudding.

“Oh, and don’t forget facing the father of your child,” she muttered to herself as she did a quick hunt for mouthwash in the medicine cabinet. She came up empty on the rinse but did find a small tube of toothpaste in its stead.

Mouth clean once more, Lizzie squared her shoulders. She’d put this off long enough—it was time to tell Ethan the truth. She slipped off the sweatshirt, loath to remove the soft cotton that smelled of him—a mix of the outdoors and something raw and wholly male—and folded it as she walked.

He stood before the large fireplace, the thick stone like a frame. He was a hard man, she knew, harder even than the slate at his back. He’d shown signs of it even as a young boy—and who wouldn’t after what he and his siblings had lived through?

But Ethan had suffered more than the rest of them.

At the age of seven he’d discovered his mother lying murdered out behind the family’s farmhouse. A red bull’s-eye was painted on her forehead in Magic Marker, the clear mark of his father, one of Texas’s most notorious serial killers.

“Lizzie, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

She pushed away the images that assailed her at the very thought of what he’d discovered and focused on the here and now.

And what she had to share with him.

“I have something to tell you.”

Ethan nodded, his face resigned, but he held his position before the fireplace. “I think I might have an idea.”

“I’m pregnant.”

He nodded again, and whether it was in acknowledgment of her words or the response of someone dumbfounded and searching for something to say, she wasn’t sure. After all, she’d had almost six months to get used to the idea.

And he’d had none.

“What took you so long to tell me?”

“I didn’t—” She hesitated, even though she’d prepared for this question. “I know how you feel about children. You were honest with me. That night and even when we were kids, you’d mentioned it a few times. That you don’t want children. That you’re afraid to pass on—”

She broke off again, heat creeping up her neck and into her cheeks.

Damn. She so didn’t want to go there.

Ethan had told her of his fears. That he believed his father’s psychopathic tendencies ran in his blood, and for that reason, he’d never have children. She’d tried to tell him it was a load of bullshit, but he wouldn’t be put off. And if Lizzie were fair, she knew the roots of his fear were all too real.

She’d grown up in foster care, too, her parents a nonexistent memory. Who gave up their child, leaving them to the care of strangers? She hadn’t even been good enough for adoption. Oh, no, instead she’d gone from foster home to foster home, cared for by people who by and large were kind but overworked, overextended with the number of children in their care and unwilling to allow themselves to get too attached.

“You’re right. I made a vow, and I believe in my reasons. None of it changes the reality that there is a child on its way that, by your presence, I assume is mine.”

“Of course!”

The question beneath his words was a slap, but she stood tall. Although she wasn’t an innocent, she wasn’t a woman who would pass off the child of another man. And she hadn’t had sex in some time, all her relationships seeming to end after a date or two, before things got intimate or too serious.

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “That was out of line. I know you. And I’ve known you for a long time. I just didn’t think— I mean, we used protection.”

“Which I thought was effective. I did ask my doctor about it, and she said that while usually effective, there’s a reason the box comes with a warning. We’re the one percent where the condom didn’t work.”

“I guess we are.” A harsh laugh escaped his lips. “I’ve spent my entire damn life avoiding slips outside the lines. Clearly I’m not trying hard enough.”

His words were like icicles against her skin, but she stood strong, refusing to cower. She wanted to be angry—to accuse him of being a heartless bastard—but she knew all about trying to live a good life. A perfect life. And she knew what that quest for perfection did to a person.

That bone-deep fear that you’d never be enough, just as you were.

She’d spent years working through the lingering pain of being a foster child, and she knew there were no easy answers. After she’d got her job with the bank, the benefits had allowed her to seek out counseling, and she’d willingly gone to a therapist, eager to talk through the self-doubt that had plagued her through much of her life.

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?

Ethan had always wondered at the people who seemed desperate to have one sex over the other. Wasn’t a healthy child the goal?

But the prospect—old wives’ tale or not—that the child might be a boy struck with a hard slap. Boys grew into men. And just like that, images of his father and all the man had been capable of rooted him to the ground as if he were wearing cement shoes.

It wasn’t possible, was it? The idea he’d pass his father’s blood on to a child had always filled him with fear. But now.

Now that there was a real baby...

“What is it?”

Ethan hadn’t even realized he’d stopped until Lizzie turned around and waved him forward. “Nothing.”

“You sure? You look like you’ve seen a cross between the ghost of Christmas past and the Headless Horseman.”

Her tease was light and airy, but the concern underneath the words was hard to miss. “I’m good.”

Ethan flung off whatever had momentarily gripped him. He needed to deal in facts. And in reality. He was going to be a father, and now that he knew that, he’d do whatever it took to care for his child. To see that he or she grew into a healthy, well-adjusted adult. He’d give everything he possessed to make that a reality.

He stalked the rest of the way to Dream’s stall, pleased to see his filly’s eyes bright and devoid of pain. “Hello, beautiful girl.”

Dream nuzzled his hand, her soft movements full of the trusting bond they shared. Ethan spent several long minutes stroking the horse’s neck before turning toward Lizzie. “This is Dream.”

“She’s gorgeous.”

Lizzie stepped up, her hand already extended before Ethan stilled the movement. “Why don’t you sweeten the deal a bit?”

He dug an ever-present sugar cube from his coat pocket and handed it over. “It’s always nice to bring a gift for a brand-new introduction.”

Something warm raced up his arm as their fingers touched, the simple gesture of handing over the sugar cube suddenly fraught with electricity and meaning. Her green siren’s eyes widened before something needy and deeply primitive flashed there.

Attraction. Want. Desire.

The force of it nearly took him to his knees, and he ran his index finger over her open palm, the flesh soft and pliant.

“Thanks for the sugar.” Her gaze dropped to where their hands were still tentatively joined, and he sensed the deepest regret when she pulled her palm away. “I hope she likes me.”

He couldn’t quite find his voice, the thick croak when he did finally speak gruff and hoarse. “She’ll like you fine.”

“We’ll see.” Without hesitation, Lizzie stuck her hand out, her reach steady. “Hello again, sweet girl. How are you?”

The sugar cube vanished in an instant, but it was enough to break the ice. Dream lightly pressed her nose to Lizzie’s palm before bending her head slightly. They spent several moments like that, Lizzie running her hands over Dream’s nose, cheeks and neck and Dream accepting the simple gestures of affection.

Ethan stood back to give them a moment, struck by the odd awareness they were both pregnant. He knew it wasn’t the same—a woman and a horse—yet he couldn’t deny there was something both deeply present and mysteriously ancient about their mutual situation.

Lizzie turned from her ministrations, her hand still lingering on the mane of her new friend. “What was wrong this morning? She seems absolutely fine. She’s such a sweet thing.”

“Her foal needed to be turned around.”

“She’s pregnant?”

“Yep. If things stay on track, we’ll have a new foal next month.”

* * *

Lizzie wasn’t sure why the fact Ethan had spent the night in the barn with a pregnant horse struck her with such force, but the symbolism lanced through her with all the finesse of a battering ram.

A sign.

She couldn’t deny the sweet joy and relief that swept through her at the silly acknowledgment.

Although she considered herself far too practical to engage in things beyond her control, she’d spent her life paying attention to the small signs that seemed like a direction, pointing the way. A small patch of pink tulips that bloomed the day she received her college acceptance letter. The same colored blooms planted around the entrance to her office the day she interviewed for her job.

Those and so many others made up a series of memories that told her she was pushing in the proper direction.

Finding out Ethan Colton’s prize horse was pregnant, too, felt like that patch of tulips.

Important.

The hum of voices echoed from the far end of the barn. Lizzie had nearly turned, ready to let Ethan know she’d leave him to his work for a while, when a comment by one of his ranch hands had her going still.

“They say it’s another serial killer, right here in Blackthorn County. Being steered from prison by Matthew Colton.”

“No way, Gus. Colton’s locked up good and tight. It’s a copycat out for attention.”

The two men came to a halt when they realized there were others in the barn, and both quickly doffed their hats. “Good morning, ma’am. Mr. Colton.”

Ethan had gone so still he could have been carved in glass, and Lizzie didn’t even realize she’d been holding her breath until he spoke.

“Morning, Gus. Trey. Bill will be in a bit late. We had some midnight excitement with Dream here.”

She waited while Ethan talked to his men, their attention focused on the list of tasks as he described them. Both nodded their heads and seemed eager to get to work.

Lizzie waited until the men went off to their tasks before turning toward Ethan. She wanted to cringe at her overly bright voice but pressed on. “Why don’t I let you get back to things? It sounds like a busy morning. I can take care of our breakfast dishes and get out of your hair for a bit.”

“You’re not in my hair.” He tugged at a few strands of his short sandy-brown hair. “See. Empty.”

“Ethan—”

It was a silly joke, and she almost laughed, solely to keep that delicate balance of normal, when he moved up into her space, a short curse spilling from his lips. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“I’m not. I read the paper. Watch the news. I know what’s been going on in Blackthorn County.”

And she did know. A series of copycat killings were happening in their backyard, all of them leaving the victims with the distinctive red bull’s-eye that had been Matthew Colton’s trademark.

The Alphabet Killer, as the press had dubbed the perpetrator, was increasingly gaining national coverage. With both the bull’s-eye marking and a penchant for killing women in alphabetical order, the murderer’s notoriety was building. The murders had been all her coworkers could talk about, and now that the killer was up to D, it was all the nation could talk about, too.

“My father is in prison. He’s not making an outreach to anyone. He can’t be behind this again. We’ve all made sure of that.”

His use of the word again tore at something deep within her, but she kept her attention firm. Unyielding. His younger sister, Josie, had been her best friend, and after their initial days getting to know each other, they’d become confidantes.

She could still remember Josie’s frustration when talking about her father.

People look at you with such pity, as if they can somehow wish it all away. It’s like if they don’t mention him or all he’s done, he’s not some deranged psychotic killer.

But he is.

“People do some terrible things for attention. There are those who look to convicted criminals as inspiration.”

“My father’s a monster.”

“Yet to some, he’s a hero.”

Although she was aware of the crimes, the story had taken a backseat to her own problems. Now that she was here, Lizzie finally understood the problem wasn’t so distant to Ethan.

“Your brother Sam’s a cop, right? What does he think about it?”

Ethan glanced over his shoulder in the direction of his stable hands before taking her arm once more. “Let’s go back in the house.”

“Of course.”

In a matter of minutes, she was once again seated on his couch, a fire blazing to chase away the cold. Ethan sat beside her, but even with the fire so close, it couldn’t chase away the cold shadow that seemed to hover around him.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Let me rephrase that. Why don’t you tell me what you know. What does Sam think about a copycat killer on the loose?”

Based on his reticence to discuss the murders, Lizzie braced herself for a cold, clinical retelling of whatever information he had.

The fierce grip on her hands told an entirely different tale.

“Sam thinks—” Ethan broke off on a hard shudder before shifting gears. “Lizzie. Don’t you see? That’s what lives inside me. What now lives inside our child. I’ve passed it on to an innocent.”

His gaze dropped to her stomach, and she’d have had to be blind to miss the fierce protection she saw in the hazel depths. Whatever he believed, she knew she had to convince him otherwise. “It’s not genetics, Ethan. It’s a sick and twisted reaction to life. To living. You’re not your father, and our child won’t be, either.”

“How can you say that?”

“I know it. To the very depths of my soul, I know.”

Ethan dropped the hold on her hands and leaped up as if singed. He paced the length of the room, his strides long. Powerful. “He’s my father. And he went on a killing spree twenty years ago to avenge his issues with his brother. His own damn flesh and blood. How can you say that’s not personal? That it’s not based on something sick and twisted inside him?”

While she knew he’d never physically hurt her, Lizzie was shocked at the grief that burrowed into the deepest part of her. Staring into Ethan Colton’s eyes, she saw a layer of pain and heartbreak and sheer agony she could never have imagined.

She knew the story of his father. You’d be hard-pressed to find a soul in the entire state of Texas who didn’t. Matthew Colton had hated his older brother, Big J, and all the man’s wealth and influence. In some sick, twisted need for retribution, he had murdered a series of men who all looked like his brother, leaving each and every one with a bull’s-eye on his forehead, drawn with a thick red marker.

Despite the heinous crimes, she’d never believed he’d passed that on. She’d known Matthew’s children from a young age. They were good, decent individuals. She knew it so many years ago and she knew it now. All seven siblings had gone on to rise above their father’s legacy, the equivalent of a family of phoenixes. Law enforcement. Ranching. Even Josie, who had disappeared, had been a dear, dear friend to her.

Ethan might struggle with lingering fear over his father’s actions, but she didn’t.

Nor had she considered—for even the briefest of moments—her child might be tainted by that. “We make our own choices in life, for good or for bad. You and I are living proof of that.”

“I’m the child of a bad person. A killer, Lizzie. You can’t compare that to a couple of people who felt they couldn’t handle a kid.”

The truth she’d spent her life dealing with stung and he must have seen something on her face.

“I’m sorry.” The fierce light that filled his eyes at the mention of his father faded, the apology more than evident in his narrowed gaze. “That was clumsy of me.”

“No, it’s honest. There’s a difference.” And regardless of their reason, in the end her parents’ actions were just as he said. People who’d been unable to care for a child.

Pushing it aside, Lizzie pressed on. But oh, how did she reach him? For the first time, the beliefs she’d carried all the way to his front door wavered before her eyes. How did she make him understand this?

Standing, she moved to stand toe to toe. She reached for him, gripping the solid length of his forearm, willing the power of touch to maybe break through his resistance.

“Don’t you see? Even with how we were raised, we’re both good, honest, decent human beings. People who know right from wrong. People who believe the world can be a better place. Our child will have genetics, yes. But he or she will also have love. And a mother and father to teach right and wrong.”

“How can you be so naive?”

She dropped his arm and stepped back. The heat of his words branded her, but it was the disillusionment that painted his gaze in a dim wash of gray that had something sinking to the very bottom of her stomach.

“It’s hardly naive to believe in my future. To believe in my child’s future.”

The briefest acknowledgment flitted through his gaze before those hazel depths went flat once more. “I’ve done everything right. You’ve done everything right. Yet here we are, smack in the middle of it happening all over again. The threatening notes. The baby rattle. Even another serial killer on the loose.”

Lizzie dropped down onto the couch again, his words pinging through her mind with all the power of a hailstorm.

Maybe she had been naive. Worse, she’d finally allowed herself to hope. To believe she had a bright future ahead.

And instead, she had to face the reality. She was about to bring a child into a world that was dark and bleak and very, very cold.

Chapter 4

Ethan busied himself with a series of mundane chores, the act of mucking stalls and working through several small fix-it projects designed to keep his mind off the woman currently taking a nap several hundred yards away in his house. It was only when he hammered the last nail into a sagging door frame that he finally admitted the truth.

He’d failed miserably.

His mind was full of Lizzie, and no amount of physical labor had removed her from the center of his thoughts. He even had a bruise on his knuckles from when he wasn’t paying attention to prove it.

Although he was far from comfortable with it, he was beginning to get used to the idea of being a father. What he hadn’t quite conquered was the bone-shuddering need that had swept through him at the sight of his child’s mother.

She was pregnant, for heaven’s sake. He shouldn’t be looking at her as if he wanted to devour her. She deserved his respect. And gentleness. And a man who wasn’t thinking about long sultry nights wrapped up in each other.

He’d have thought the sight of her pregnant belly would take his mind off the sensual thoughts. So it was more than a little unsettling to realize her softly rounded stomach drew out the need to protect as well as a base sexuality he’d never have imagined.

She was carrying his baby.

Tossing his hammer into his toolbox, Ethan let out a low curse and went to check on Dream. He might have no clue how to deal with a woman—or the sea of emotions one woman in particular managed to whip up—but he knew what to do with animals. Quiet and more than willing to share their affection, with them he always knew where he stood.

Dream nudged his shoulder the moment he was within distance of her stall, her sweet head bump going a long way toward uncoiling the tension wrapping his shoulders. “You want out for a walk, baby?”

Anticipation lit her dark eyes, and Ethan made quick work of her lead. In moments, he had her in the paddock, watching as she pranced in happy circles. He briefly thought about calling the doctor to confirm she wouldn’t injure her foal, but knew he was being overly cautious. Doc Peters had said Dream could resume regular activity. In fact, he’d made it an imperative.

So he trusted the animal knew what was best for her and stood back to watch.

The late afternoon quiet wrapped around him. Several hands had the other horses out, exercising and riding the land, while another crew had gone out to mend a patch of fence. He’d wanted to go with them—knew he should be with them—but he found himself loath to go too far from the house.

Roiling emotions aside, he couldn’t shake the fear that something terrible was hovering out there, waiting for them. He cursed again and fought to keep his focus firmly on fact. He’d spent his childhood living in fear, and the moment he had some control over his life, he’d sworn off continuing to live that way. He would handle this.

Whatever this was.

He had means. And he had a damn good head on his shoulders. If neither worked, he had a loaded shotgun in his closet that could help seal the deal.

At the image of the gun, Ethan quickly made a mental note to purchase a gun safe. There was no way he was keeping an unlocked gun around a small child. One who would be in his house all too soon.

“Those are some heavy thoughts.”

Ethan turned at the soft words and came face-to-face with Lizzie. The afternoon sun had warmed things and she stood there in her sweatshirt and an old vest he kept hanging in his mudroom. The image of her in his things shot another arrow of need through him, and he turned toward the paddock and away from the tempting sight. “Just giving Dream a run. She needed some fresh air.”

Lizzie took a spot next to him on the rail, her booted foot propped up on the bottom rung. Color ran high on her cheeks as she pointed toward the far side of the ring. “She looks well.”

“Doc Peters is amazing.”

“He may be, but it looks like you’ve got a pretty amazing horse, too.”

Ethan felt the scrutiny—Lizzie wasn’t subtle—and marveled at the frank honesty. Even when she was a small child, she’d had that gaze. Bright green eyes that could size you up and tease you in one fell swoop.

Unwilling to keep his gaze diverted, he turned to stare into the familiar. And had to admit the wide-eyed innocence of the child had given way to the knowledge of a grown woman.

“Dream’s perfect.”

“You always wanted a barn full of horses. I remember how you used to talk of the ranch you’d have. I could see it, too.” Lizzie stepped back from the paddock rail and turned slowly, making a full circle, before she turned back toward him. “It’s just as you’d said it would be.”

“I knew what I wanted.”

“Yes, you did. And now you have it. That must be satisfying.”

Satisfying, yes. But a bit empty.

The thought caught him completely unaware, and Ethan scrambled to reorganize the odd impressions swirling through his mind.

Empty? When had that idea settled in and taken root?

Even as the confusion whirled around in his thoughts like a dust storm, Ethan knew. That weekend after he and Lizzie had shared time at the rodeo, he’d walked the land and wondered why the vastness he’d always welcomed suddenly seemed oppressive.

The ranch was his. This corner of Texas, so open and wide, had become his own. He’d put every ounce of himself into the place since he was nineteen. First as a hand, then as foreman and then—finally—as his own after his old boss wanted out of the business.

The ranch was his life. It was as much a part of him as his heart and soul.

So when had it stopped being enough?

“Ethan?”

“Sorry. Long day.”

She let his polite lie pass and turned back to the paddock. “I’ll give her credit. She certainly has more energy than I do.”

“Are you okay?” He had one hand on her back and the other covering her hand before he could even think to check his movements. “Do you need to lie down?”

Her shoulders stiffened beneath his hands before relaxing, and she moved a heartbeat closer. “I’m fine. I just tire easier, even with an afternoon spent lazing around like a cat.”

“The benefit of moving on four legs instead of two?”

Lizzie laughed at that, her smile wide and open. “Maybe that’s it.”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind.”

Those delicate shoulders stiffened once more and he cursed himself for bringing such unpleasantness into their conversation.

“Yes. I have.”

“Well, one thing to take off it is me.”

Her gaze changed, shifted. The bright smile she’d worn while watching Dream was nowhere in evidence. “How so?”

“This is my child. You have my commitment that I will help you and stand by you. Both.”

“That’s comforting.”

“It’s fact. You won’t face this alone. I will be a father to my child.”

* * *

Lizzie pushed on a bright smile and ignored the pain that drummed against her heart with all the finesse of a blunt instrument.

Ethan Colton would be an amazing father to their child.

And that was all he’d be.

Shake it off, Lizzie girl. Shake it off.

The fantasy she’d warned herself against over the past six months—ever since that night at the rodeo—curled against the corners of her mind with reaching fingers. Although she knew it for the emotional foolishness it was, that small, hopeful piece of her had wondered if there could be more with Ethan.

With her gaze on the horse, she kept her voice level. “That’s a lot to take on. Especially with all the issues I’m having back at home.”

“Issues we’ll face together.” She sensed him before she felt him, the light press of his fingers against her shoulder drawing her attention. “Lizzie. I mean it. You’re not alone.”

“I’m always alone.”

The words were out before she could censor them. She hated playing the abandonment card—it suggested a weakness she refused to feel. She was proud of how hard she’d worked to overcome her childhood so she could focus on a bright future full of love and laughter.

So why was it so easy to drift back to that place?

The therapist she’d found after she started at the bank had been gentle, urging her to put voice to the feelings she’d lived with her whole life instead of keeping them locked inside. How humbling, then, to realize just how easy it was to regress.

He lifted his hand from her shoulder, but instead of breaking contact, he moved his fingers lightly over the length of her arm, coming to rest just above her wrist. Although she’d believed her sweatshirt was warm enough to battle the February afternoon chill, she’d had no idea the movement of the worn cotton over her skin could feel so sensual. So erotic.

She’d read the pregnancy books and knew her hormones were to blame for the immediate response to his touch, but deep down Lizzie wondered if it was something more.

Something that went far deeper than she’d admit, even to herself.

“I can only imagine how scared you’ve been, but we’ll get to the bottom of it. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Except you.

She laid her hand over his and gave in to the urge to look at him. Really look at him. Although the afternoon was comfortable, a light wind had filled his cheeks with ruddy color. The pinkish-red hue was a match for his lips, the firm, strong lines of his mouth drawing her attention.

He was a beautiful man, almost startlingly so, with thick lips and a firm jawline she itched to trace. To soften. He rarely smiled, instead facing the world with a stoic facade that tugged at something deep inside her.

It had always been that way, even when they were young. He’d seen so much—had lived with the image of finding his dead mother—and it sat heavy on his shoulders.

Lizzie knew what an impact parents had on their children—whether present or not—but Ethan’s life had been defined by his parents even more than most. Yet even with those ghosts—or demons, as a more apt description of Matthew Colton—Ethan had still made something of himself.

He was so strong. Capable. And so quintessentially male. Thick with muscle, he appeared comfortable in a body that was used to hard work and long days. But it was his face. Long lashes that were a dusty goldish brown framed those rich hazel eyes that had seen so much. There was a haunted quality to Ethan Colton, and she had no idea if he even realized it.

Shadows lurked in those hazel depths, and she desperately wanted to be the one to chase them away.

The hand that covered her forearm tightened, and Lizzie became conscious of the seconds ticking by. Of the sound of their breathing, rising in tempo, matched in rhythm. She couldn’t want this. She had her child to think of, and he or she needed to be her full focus right now.

But heaven help her, she couldn’t look away.

And then there was no choice as Ethan lowered his head, his mouth barely touching hers. Her breath lodged in her chest as her entire body went still.

Did she dare?

And then her arms were around his neck and she couldn’t have pulled away if the barn had risen in flames behind them.

Ethan’s hands shifted to her hips, turning her fully from the fence rails to stand flush against his body. Their child pressed between them, a vivid, tangible reminder that they’d created life.

The past months faded away as his lips met hers. Every ounce of pent-up longing and need seemed to shudder through her as Lizzie gave herself over to the moment. The man she’d dreamed of through more years than she wanted to count was here.

And she was in his arms.

A soft sigh drifted up her throat, the unconscious exhalation an interpretation of all that was in her heart. That sigh seemed to say: Finally.

His tongue met the barrier of her lips and she opened for him, the act of possession unmistakable as he slipped inside. His fingers clutched at her hips, pulling her even more tightly against him, and even with their child between them, she could feel the need that tightened his body with the same driving force that consumed her.

Lizzie lost all sense of her surroundings as her world narrowed and expanded all at once. All she could feel was Ethan. All she could think was Ethan.

All she wanted was Ethan.

The boy she remembered had become a hard man, tough and strong, his body as unyielding as the land that was his.

Yet just like the vivid blooms that found a way to flourish, even in the hardest earth, Ethan had made something of himself. Had followed his dream and his love of animals to create a life for himself.

A home.

Lizzie clung to him a bit tighter, allowing him to deepen the kiss even further, as one thought thundered louder than all else.

She wanted that home with him.

It was that truth that finally had her pulling away. With determined steps, she tore herself away from the only force on earth that made her forget herself.

“Lizzie—” His lips were wet, his hazel eyes almost black with the heavy dilation of his pupils as he stared at her.

“I—” She broke off, the question in his eyes almost powerful enough to have her moving right back into those strong arms.

Almost.

The baby chose that moment to kick, the swift punch of a tiny foot under her rib cage enough to break her fully out of Ethan’s thrall. Her hands went to her stomach, and she winced as their child aimed one more field goal toward her ribs.

“What is it?”

“It must be three o’clock.”

“What? Why?”

“The baby’s active. He starts like clockwork every day at the same time.”

“He?”

She offered up a rueful smile. “Yesterday I called it a she all day. I trade off every day.”

His gaze drifted down over her stomach, and she saw something cross his face before he took a firm step back.

“What is it?”

“I... I mean, do you mind if I—” He extended a hand, and she gripped his palm firmly in hers before he gave himself a chance to pull away.

Shifting away the material of his thick vest, she placed Ethan’s hand high over her abdomen and was rewarded with another kick. His fingers flexed against her skin, the wide press of his palm nearly covering half the width of her as a look of sheer awe had his mouth widening into a smile.

“I think we’ve got a UT football scholarship in our future.” He tightened his hand once more as the baby shot out another foot jab. “Feel that kick.”

“Or a Rockette.” She smiled as the image of thick football pads faded into a sequined dance outfit. Lizzie knew their comments were steeped in society’s views on girls and boys, and she’d had several months to admit to herself she wasn’t fully immune to the ingrained pull of baby culture. Everything she looked at in the stores was pink or blue, a wave of color determined to stamp identity from the very earliest age.

Conscious of that, she couldn’t resist poking at whatever image had settled in Ethan’s mind. “Maybe we’ll have the first girl kicker at UT.”

He smiled down at her. “Or a cowboy–slash–ballet dancer who wows them on the New York stage.”

She welcomed her child’s interests, whatever they might be, but hadn’t realized how relieved she was to hear his unspoken agreement. “You’d be okay with that?”

“My child can be whatever he or she wants to be. I’ll be proud.” His hand cradled her stomach as his gaze settled on hers, intense and unwavering. “Always.”

Lizzie nodded, not sure what to say. She’d thought to tease out any inherent bias and instead had her game turned on her in the most impactful of ways. While she had no doubt Ethan Colton would be an amazing father, to actually hear the pride that already filled his voice left her with the insane urge to start bawling right there in the middle of his ranch.

Unwilling to analyze those emotions too closely, she closed them up and vowed not to take them back out until she was alone. She already knew her attraction to Ethan hovered way too close to the surface. She did not need to add hormones and the urge to weep every five minutes to her list of emotional sins where Ethan Colton was concerned.

He removed his hand from her stomach, a gentle reluctance painting his features before he put a few additional steps between them. He shifted on the balls of his feet, his gaze drifting out over the paddock. The fierce conviction that had painted his features as he made promises for their child’s future faded as his gaze followed Dream’s easy progression around the practice ring.

Their quiet moments drifted off on the light afternoon breeze. The strong, gentle man who had been so present and in the moment with her had gone, leaving the hard, stoic face he showed the world standing in his place.

Lizzie wanted to bring that other Ethan back—wanted to pull him away from the cloud of memories that seemed to perpetually hang around him, no matter what the situation—but she kept her distance.

It wasn’t her place.

And while it nearly killed her to acknowledge that fact, carrying his child didn’t change anything. She and Ethan Colton didn’t have a relationship. For her own emotional protection, she’d do well to remember that a baby couldn’t banish the demons he carried inside.

“There are storm clouds in your eyes, Lizzie.”

The quiet observation pulled her from her own thoughts, and she stared up at him. The questions in her mind fought to come to light, but she held them back, offering up a small shrug instead.

“It’s nothing but a trick of the light.”

* * *

The woman stood in the distance and stared at Ethan Colton and Lizzie Conner. Damn stubborn fools. It didn’t take the high-powered binoculars in her hand to see the connection that snapped between them like Texas heat lightning.

What would it be like to be filled with an attraction that intense? The thought filled her with a shot of something so powerful her knees actually trembled from the force.

And now there would be a baby.

The first Colton grandchild.

Matthew would be beside himself when he found out. Despite his absolute inability to control the horrible urges that lived beneath his skin, he valued family above all else. It shaped him, like clay molded from the earth, and had driven his every action since childhood.

He even attributed his need to kill to his family.

The terrible jealousy Matthew had felt for Big J Colton had driven him down the darkest and most twisted path a human could travel. His need to kill—or maybe it was simply the excuse he’d settled on—had all been tied to the brother who’d never loved him or cared for him.

And it was a legacy that haunted them all.

Chapter 5

Lizzie smoothed the purse on her lap, a motion that was going to wear a hole in the leather if she didn’t stop. She’d thought to spend the day in her room in an attempt to give Ethan space as he tried to come to grips with the impending change she’d thrust upon his life. So it was more than a little surprising to wake up to a home-cooked breakfast, a hot cup of herbal tea and the announcement they were going to investigate her house.

“We really don’t need to do this.”

They’d nearly traversed the length of Blackthorn County, and she could see the familiar landmarks that made up the last two miles to her home.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve said that.”

“Have not.”

“Yes, you have. First you asked me if I had better things to do today. Then you suggested I might want to turn around and stay home to keep an eye on Dream. And about ten miles back you told me your house was a mess and you’re embarrassed to bring anyone into it.”

Okay, maybe she’d exaggerated about the house, Lizzie thought as she pictured the cleaning she’d done before she left. But she hadn’t got to the kitchen floors and that was an embarrassment. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“I get that. What I don’t understand is why you don’t want me to see your place.”

“You have seen my place.”

Flashes of the night they’d shared sprang to the forefront of her thoughts, vivid memories full of passion and heat. She’d invited him home after the rodeo, and Ethan had followed behind in his truck. She’d spent the entire drive convinced he’d take the gentlemanly way out and tell her he couldn’t come in after thinking it over. Yet she’d worried for nothing when they’d practically fallen out of their cars, barely making it across her small front yard to the door, their hands full of each other.

“Why don’t you want me to see your place today?”

The question pulled her from the haze of memories, and Lizzie swallowed hard around her suddenly dry throat. “It’s not that I don’t want you to see my place. You’re always welcome in my home.”

She fought the traitorous voice that whispered through her mind, taunting her with the truth. She did want Ethan to see her place. Often.

Forever.

Shaking it off, Lizzie ignored the temptation to hope and instead acknowledged the inevitable: he wasn’t turning the car around. She forced optimism into her tone and pasted on a small, determined smile. “I’m just sorry I’ve dragged you into this.”

Ethan’s gaze remained fixed on the road ahead, but it was impossible to miss the hard flex of his jaw or the sparks that lit up his gaze. “You have nothing to be sorry about. Someone’s been intent on scaring you. Worse, they’ve taken advantage of a terribly vulnerable time in your life. I’m here to help.”

“I know. And I thank you more than I can ever say.”

His jaw remained stiff, and Lizzie wasn’t sure if her gratitude irritated or frustrated. She felt both emotions and a host of others she hadn’t even figured out yet.

Although she hadn’t wanted to keep the baby a total secret from him, she knew Ethan’s feelings on children. After the initial shock of discovering her pregnancy, she’d consoled herself with the idea that she’d tell him after she’d adjusted to motherhood. She and the baby would get into a routine. Make a life together. And then she’d figure out a way to tell him.

Instead, some creepy jerk had forced her hand and put a very dark mark on that future.

She directed Ethan to the turn for her small subdivision, a townhome community that sat about a mile off Main Street. When he only nodded his head and murmured a husky “I remember,” she turned her gaze to the window, another one of those nameless emotions bubbling to the surface.

The February weather had been colder than usual, so the trees that lined the entry to her development were still bare. Even without the pretty shades of green that had canopied the neighborhood on his last visit, Ethan took each turn like a pro.

He did remember.

Which did nothing to help her internal argument to stay cool, calm and distant toward Ethan Colton.

An unbearable heaviness threatened to pull her under at the realization, and she rubbed a slow, soothing hand over her belly. The baby was in one of its quiet periods and had settled down during the drive. Over the past few months, every time she’d begun to feel any anxiety, Lizzie had focused on the life she carried. Staying calm for the baby was essential to its well-being, and she was determined to avoid as much stress as possible.

Or at least the self-induced kind, Lizzie admitted with a quick eye roll that reflected back at her from the window of Ethan’s truck.

Oblivious to her thoughts, Ethan turned in to her driveway and cut the engine. His gaze roamed over the brick facing before he turned toward her with a smile. “What a great place. I thought so before, and it’s only more true in the light of day.”

“I love it. I’ve loved this place from the first moment I saw it.” The baby gave a sharp kick as if to punctuate the point, and Lizzie laid a firm hand over her stomach.

“You okay?”

“Field-goal practice has begun once more.”

“Do you need to sit for a moment?”

“No. Walking will help move her a bit.” She was already reaching for the door handle when long, strong fingers came down over her hand.

“Wait. I’ll come around.” The strength that lined his features softened as his gaze drifted to her stomach. “So the baby’s a girl today?”

“I told you. I like to trade off each day.”

“So you did.” His hand lifted from hers to settle over the large mound of her belly. “But she’s still kicking field goals?”

Her voice came out on a husky croak, her throat desert dry. “Like a champ.”

“Which means you definitely need a bit of pampering. I’ll come around to get you.”

The tender moment of connection ended, the crackle of electricity that seemed to flow between them effortlessly fizzling in the cool air that blew in through his open door. Lizzie kept her hand on the door handle but followed Ethan’s command to stay put.

It was nice to have the help and the extra bit of attention. Even if she put aside the feelings for Ethan that never seemed to fully go away, it was just nice to have someone to talk to about the baby. Her coworkers had been excited for her, and she’d made a few friends since she’d started at the bank, but they weren’t with her in her more private moments. Decorating the baby’s room or picking out some items at the store had been all her own doing.

“Why don’t you give me your keys and I’ll go in ahead of you?”

“I know you’re worried, but it’s not that bad. This is my house.”

One eyebrow rose. “Humor me.”

Lizzie stilled from where she worked her way out of the seat belt. “You use that look to get whatever you want, Colton?”

“Did it work?”

“Sadly, yes.”

One of those rare smiles lit up his face. “Then consider it an effective tactic.”

Lizzie allowed Ethan to help her from the elevated passenger seat of his truck, then handed over her keys. “I’ll stay behind you.”

She stayed true to her word but couldn’t fully eliminate the seeds of resentment that took root as she followed him to her front door. This was her home. She’d worked and saved and had been so proud when she’d qualified for the mortgage on her own. All her hard work and dedication, focus and goal setting, had paid off. And ten months ago, she’d signed the papers and moved in.

Now she had to face the fact that someone had threatened all she’d worked for. Worse, they’d threatened the fragile life she protected within her.

“Come on in.” Ethan gestured her through her open front door. “I’ll look around, but everything looks like it’s in place.”

“Everything’s where it should be. The curse of the foster child.”

“Oh?”

The curious “Oh” had gone straight over her head, but the question beneath his question didn’t. Lizzie glanced up from her focused perusal of the front living area. “Sure. Keep things neat as a pin so you don’t give them a reason to get rid of you.”

“You said that without a trace of bitterness.”

“Because I’m not bitter. Not at all.” When he only continued to stare at her, Lizzie pressed on. “I had wonderful people who took care of me. They did the best they could and they did love me.”

“I hear a but there.”

“But I was the stubborn teenager who kept my distance from them. They weren’t my real parents, and I never let them forget it.”

“You sound sad about that.”

“More than you can know. Roy and Rhonda Carlton were my last foster family and they cared for me. They gave me a home, and I didn’t appreciate them nearly enough.”

“My brother Chris mentioned their passing several years back. We thought they might have known—”

Lizzie’s attention sharpened on all Ethan didn’t say. “Thought what?”

“It’s nothing.”

She leveled her own stare on him and knew the well-practiced gesture had a similar effect as his lone eyebrow. Nor did she miss the resigned look or the small exhalation as Ethan paced through her living room, his large frame at odds with the delicate furniture she’d selected.

“Chris is a PI, and he looked into them a bit when we were trying to find out more about Josie. To see if they knew anything. That was about a year after she disappeared and—” his large shoulders rose and fell in a simple shrug “—he discovered they died in a car accident.”

“A hit-and-run on a night full of storms,” she affirmed. “It was a terrible tragedy, but I’ve always taken comfort that they were together.”

“Did they have other foster children at the time?”

“No. After Josie ran away they didn’t seem to have the heart for it any longer. She and I were the last fosters they had.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Didn’t you miss Josie?”

Pain she’d long buried speared through her midsection at the direct mention of his sister. Although she was a year and a half older, Josie had been her best friend, and the two of them had been as close as sisters.

Until the day they weren’t.

“Of course I did. The Carltons practically raised both of us. But she and I had grown apart and then one day she just disappeared.”

“She did that to us, too.” Ethan continued to drift around the room, his restless energy as raw as an impending storm. “Grew apart. Stopped wanting to see us for our court-sanctioned visits. Until the day she just vanished.”

“Did you ever find out where she went?”

“No.” He picked up a small crystal giraffe from her coffee table and turned it over in his hands. Although his gaze was ostensibly on the small piece, Lizzie could tell he was a million miles away. “And no amount of digging by my law-steeped siblings has provided any information.”

As she watched him, another thought hit Lizzie, as powerful as the proverbial storms she saw in Ethan. Curious, she pushed them in a different direction. “You don’t believe the nonsense some asinine journalists have begun spouting about her. The ridiculous notion that she’s taken up your father’s torch and is the Alphabet Killer.”

Ethan stiffened at her words, his normally stoic facade going to granite. “It’s not just the journalists.”

“Who, then?”

“Forget I mentioned it.” Ethan glanced down at the object he had gripped tight in his hands before gently settling it back on the coffee table.

“Come on, Ethan. You can’t tell me you really believe it. I realize none of us knew Josie as well as we thought, but I do know her well enough to know she’s not a killer.”

“No. I don’t believe—”

His words vanished into the air as a hard thud echoed from overhead. Ethan looked up, his gaze sharp. “What room is that? Above us?”

“The baby’s room.”

Another thud sounded above them and Ethan leaped from the room, the heavy tread of his footsteps already echoing as he raced up her stairs.

“Call 911!”

* * *

Ethan was torn between staying with Lizzie downstairs and heading after the intruder in her home, but every instinct screamed to take the option that might end this here and now.

More noise echoed from the upstairs hall and Ethan headed in the direction of the sound, quickly catching his bearings as he ascended to the second-floor landing. A door at the far end of the hall slammed closed and he had no doubt it was now locked as well.

As he moved determinedly toward the door, Ethan mentally cataloged what he knew of the house. It was relatively new and Lizzie was only the second owner, which meant the builder had likely left skeleton keys in the event someone was locked in.

A large quilted giraffe hung from the door and Ethan lifted his hand to the lintel, satisfied when his fingers brushed the thin piece of metal. He had the key in the lock and the door open in moments.

Only to find his rush was in vain.

The empty room’s lone window was already open, its bright pastel-colored curtains blowing in the afternoon breeze.

He crossed the small space in a matter of steps and caught sight of a figure racing across the back of the development. It briefly crossed his mind to follow, but he knew it for a fool’s errand.

“Did you—” Lizzie broke off, her voice heavy and out of breath as she came through the door.

“He’s gone.”

“He?”

“I thought.” Ethan stopped and turned back toward the window. The figure had vanished, but he conjured up the image in his mind. “He was wearing a thick sweatshirt with the hood up, so I guess it could be anyone. They were too far away to get a sense of height.”

“The police will ask what color.”

“It was nondescript navy blue.” Ethan glanced down at his own sweatshirt, tossed on that morning from a stack of similar clothes in the bottom of his drawer. “Just like I’m wearing. Hell, like half the population wears every weekend.”

“It’s still something.”

Lizzie stood framed inside the doorway, long, curly waves of hair framing her face, and he stilled. Since he’d seen her the morning before, his emotions had roller-coastered through the ups and downs of his new reality.

Yet here she was. Standing in the doorway of their child’s room, a warrior goddess prepared to do battle to protect her home. He saw no fear. Instead, all he saw was a ripe, righteous anger, spilling from her in hard, deep breaths.

“Maybe you should sit down?”

“I’m too mad to sit.”

“Once again, I’m forced to ask the obvious. Humor me.”

He reached for the window, but she stopped him. “Leave it. It’s not that cold, and maybe there are fingerprints.”

Although he had no doubt the perp had left nothing behind, Ethan did as she requested. She’d already taken a seat in the rocking chair in the corner, and he felt his knees buckle at the image that rose up to replace her in his mind’s eye.

Lizzie, rocking in that same chair, their child nestled in her arms, suckling at her breast.

The shock of emotion that burrowed beneath his heart raced through him, and Ethan fought to keep any trace of it from showing. How could he feel so much joy at something so unexpected?

At something he’d never wanted?

He’d grappled with that fact from the very first moments with Lizzie the morning before in his kitchen and had yet to find any answer.

Yes, she carried his child. And yes, that had raised a protective instinct he never knew he possessed. But it was something more. Something deeper.

He’d spent his entire adult life avoiding entanglements, so the depth of how far he and Lizzie were now entwined should have been a concern. So how come he wasn’t feeling more restrained? He should feel as if he had a noose notched against his throat, but instead, these weird moments of excitement broke over him, swamping him in a confusing mix of protectiveness and desire.

The sound of sirens broke through his thoughts, and he grasped at the intrusion like a lifeline. He needed to get out of his head and focus on the issue at hand.

Lizzie was in danger.

The anger that had ridden her cheeks had faded, leaving her face pale, her green eyes wide. She was scared—more than she’d likely admit—and it broke his heart that she had to deal with something like this.

“Rest a minute. I’ll go meet them at the door.”

* * *

A lifetime spent around law-enforcement professionals had given Ethan a wary level of respect for them. Anyone who put their life on the line for the safety of others would always have his admiration.

But he sure as hell didn’t trust them.

Cops saw too much. Listened too much. And, at times, drew conclusions where there were none. The two cops currently sitting at Lizzie’s kitchen table fell firmly in the latter category.

After a quick look in the baby’s room and a series of innocuous questions, Officer McNulty dived in. Ethan pegged him for about a quarter century on the force and a know-it-all, and he wasn’t disappointed.

“Miss Conner. How long have these incidents been going on?”

“They started a few months ago at work. I gave all these details to Detective Bell when I filed a complaint a few weeks ago.”

McNulty kept his smile broad, but his implacable tone never wavered. “And we appreciate that. But Officer Warren and I would like to get a sense for ourselves.”

Lizzie walked through the same details she’d provided Ethan with the day before. By the time she got to the rattle incident, she was visibly shaken.

Ethan laid a hand over hers and didn’t miss McNulty’s pointed stare at the protective gesture. He leveled one of his own on the cop and was pleased to see the man look away first.

He might have an appreciation for the law, but he refused to be cowed by it.

McNulty turned things over to his partner, and the broad smile indicated Officer Warren was clearly playing good cop today. He took a softer tack, starting with nice, easy questions about the baby and when it was due. Sweet comments designed to put Lizzie at ease. From the hard flex of her hand beneath his fingers, Ethan knew the officer’s questions had done anything but.

“You say these incidents have been going on about two months now?”

“Yes.”

“That’s also about the time the Alphabet Killer began his rampage.” Warren lobbed that bomb across the table, and Ethan picked it up without a second thought.

“Granite Gulch is clear across Blackthorn County.”

“Yes, Mr. Colton.” Warren’s smile sharpened, a wolf under those sheep’s clothes. “A place your family is well acquainted with.”

“Granite Gulch is my home. My family’s home.”

“It was your father’s home, too.”

The barb hit its mark, and Ethan fought showing any response beyond irritated boredom. “My father’s home is a maximum-security prison, Officer. What’s your point?”

“I’m sure you know.”

“And I’m quite sure I don’t.”

Officer McNulty chose that moment to step in. “Surely you’re well aware of the rumors about your sister, Mr. Colton.”

“The ones that claim my youngest sister has taken up my father’s mantle, killing victims with his same pattern? That rumor, Officer?”

“One and the same.”

“Josie’s innocent!” The words spilled from Lizzie’s lips, her cry echoing around the kitchen and startling them all from the impasse that was quickly brewing.

“Do you know something, Miss Conner? Something that can help the police find whoever is responsible for these murders?”

Lizzie set her jaw, conviction shining from the very depths of her eyes. “Only that it’s not Josie. I know it’s not. She’s not capable of it.”

“People are capable of any number of things, Miss Conner,” Officer McNulty said before standing.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for the coffee. Officer Warren and I will be in touch.”

Ethan squeezed Lizzie’s hand, a silent order to stay put, and walked the officers to her front door. “Thank you for coming.”

Officer McNulty took one last glance around the living room before turning his direct stare on Ethan. As the action was meant to intimidate, Ethan simply stood taller, the scrutiny something he’d lived with his entire life.

“Keep an eye on her, Mr. Colton.” McNulty touched the tip of his hat.

The surprising shot of compassion when he’d only expected censure had Ethan nodding, his voice gruff. “Count on it.”

The two officers stepped through the door and Ethan closed it firmly behind them, flipping the locks. Their discussion with the cops continued to roll through his mind on a loop, and he struggled with the way the conversation had shifted from a faceless intruder to his sister.

Josie had been gone for so long. They’d all looked for her, unwilling to give up hope they’d find her, but after repeated disappointment he and his siblings had made a pact to do their best to preserve their sanity. Her disappearance had taken another piece of each of them, carving away what emotional protection each had created after their mother’s death and Matthew’s conviction.

It had been Annabel who’d finally suggested they drop the focused search. They loved their baby sister, but looking for her remained an open wound none of them could heal from. Ethan knew Trevor perpetually kept an FBI file open and followed small leads every now and again. And Sam’s position in the Granite Gulch PD gave him access to the records room, which he hunted through every now and again. Beyond that, they’d all done their best to move on after Josie Colton had vanished at the age of seventeen, seemingly into thin air.

So how had her name now become synonymous with the Alphabet Killer?

“That was fun.” Lizzie stood at the opposite end of the hallway, in front of the kitchen, a half-drunk pot of coffee in her hands.

Her words pulled him from his musings, and Ethan closed the short distance down the hall. “I’m sorry if they upset you.”

“Nothing like feeling like a suspect in your own home.”

“Did the detective assigned to your case make you feel that way?”

“No.” She poured the remaining coffee into his cup before turning toward the sink. “He’s been very kind and understanding. I do think he’s doing his best with limited information.”

“If today’s events are any indication, I don’t think he’s doing enough.” Ethan picked up his mug, the events of the past hour swirling through his mind. In addition to the interrogation, McNulty and Warren had called in a field unit to do a quick dusting of the windowsill for prints. When they’d turned up nothing on the sill, Lizzie had opted to avoid ruining the rest of the room with the mess the powder would make.

“You haven’t met him, Ethan. He’s a good guy. And after that Keystone Cops routine, I’m more than tempted to call Detective Bell. How dare those officers come in here and make it look like we’re criminals?”

“Coltons are an easy target. I’m sorry you got dragged in for fun.”

She slammed a dish towel against the kitchen sink and whirled on him. “Oh, that’s a load of BS and you know it.”

“Oh, really?” Ethan heard the spark in her voice and allowed it to roll over the lingering anger he’d carried all afternoon, igniting like a match to gasoline. He hadn’t intended to say another word about his sister, yet the words spilled out before he could even think to draw them back. “How was this anything but an interrogation of Matthew Colton’s son and a fishing expedition to see if his daughter is a killer?”

“Josie didn’t do it.”

“Tell that to the court of public opinion.”

Lizzie stilled. “Do you think your sister’s the one responsible for the murders?”

“I—” His hand trembled against the handle of his mug, and Ethan left the cup on the table. “No, I don’t.”

“So what is it? If you don’t think Josie’s involved in the murders, what has you so upset?”

“How can you ask me that? We’re here because some faceless bastard is trying to hurt you and the baby. Hell, he was here while we were in the house!”

Lizzie moved toward the table, standing near him but not touching. “I’m upset, too, but I don’t see how these situations are related. The officers were wrong to try and make a connection between what’s happening with the Alphabet Killer and some creepy jerk who’s trying to make my life a living hell.”

“Don’t you see it?”

He didn’t want to scare her—that was the furthest thing from his mind—but how was Lizzie unable to see what was so obvious?

“See what? I realize the murders are on the top of everyone’s mind, especially with a twenty-four–seven news cycle, but what does that have to do with some creep who’s been writing me notes?”

Ethan reached out, unable to keep his distance. But as his hand closed over hers, the flesh beneath his palm soft and warm, he regretted the words that came next.

“Your name begins with an E, Lizzie. Elizabeth is your given name.”

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