скачать книгу бесплатно
Mitch rubbed the scruff on his chin and blinked his blurry eyes, forcing back the barrage of thoughts racing through him. Letting his mind run wild wouldn’t bring his wife back.
Exhaustion had thrown him off today. He gave himself a mental slap to shake off the bad mood.
He needed more caffeine.
Sleep and twins went together about as well as hot sauce and ice cream, and Mitch was beginning to feel the effects of being up for most of the night with the kiddos. Both were teething, which pretty much meant drippy chins.
The sounds of his daughter’s babbling floated on top of the heavy fall air. He’d insisted on naming their little girl after her mother, but Kimberly had argued against it. They’d finally agreed on Andrea if she could go by Rea instead—Aaron and Andrea. Of course, he’d take back every disagreement if he could get back that last day with her and tell her to stay home instead of walking her out the door, handing her the car keys and telling her how much she needed a break.
Rea was growing into a talker. Mitch had no idea what the little tyke was saying, but that didn’t stop his daughter from prattling on and on. Both he and Kimberly were quiet people, so he wasn’t sure how his daughter had gotten the trait. Aaron was the silent one. He’d pick something up and examine it rather than chuck it across the room. Mitch had a babbler and a thinker.
Mitch thought about the labels he’d picked up in the past two years. Ranch owner. Husband. Father. Widower.
The worst part about being the latter—aside from the sobering fact that he’d lost the only woman he could ever love—was the cursed feeling that Kimberly was somehow still alive.
Granted, her body was never found. But Mitch’s other cousin, Sheriff Zachary McWilliams, had assured him that there was no way she’d survived the accident. The car, her car, had been pulled out of the ravine with barely half a windshield. Based on estimates, she’d shot out of the driver’s side like a cannon and ejected some twenty-five feet across the water before sinking. The official search had lasted six days. Flash floods and more severe storms had complicated the effort, and her body had most likely been swept away. Extra divers had volunteered to work on their days off once word had gotten around that Mitch Kent’s wife had been involved in a terrible accident. But getting a late start because of worsening conditions had meant recovering a body was less likely.
He’d requested privacy from the media, which was something he was certain his wife would’ve wanted. Zach had also assured him that it would minimize the number of crackpots coming out of the woodwork, trying to get a piece of the Kent fortune. Mostly he’d done it for his wife. She’d insisted on staying out of the spotlight. The family attorney, Harley Durant, had kept the entire story limited to a blurb on the last page of the Fort Worth Star Telegram. Harley knew how to move mountains. He also knew how to keep a secret, and he had enough connections to back it up.
Since losing Dad and inheriting the cattle ranch with his five siblings two years ago, Mitch had been getting a good feel for running the place, and that was in large part due to Harley. So far Mitch was the only one living on the land full-time, but construction was planned or in process for the others to join him on the property with homes of their own.
It had been him and his wife living on the ranch up until now. Mitch still half expected her to walk through the front door.
He’d been told by a well-meaning aunt that he couldn’t expect closure because her body had never been found. The same person had encouraged him to join a support group and find a way to move on. Mitch didn’t especially believe in that mumbo jumbo. It was most likely the fact that Rea’s eyes and thick black hair made her look more like her mother every day. Both twins reminded him of Kimberly. And maybe that was the reason he saw her everywhere.
Mitch pushed the babies toward the double glass doors of the three-story building attached to the east side of the hospital.
His cell buzzed in his pocket again, so he fished it out and checked the screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of someone staring at him and a chill raced up his spine. Coming up on the anniversary of Kimberly’s death must be playing tricks on him, because the woman was her height and had her figure, so his mind immediately snapped to thinking it could be her. Damn, he needed to get a grip.
Did he really think Kimberly would be at the plaza near the hospital and pediatrician’s office? That was impossible. He’d buried Kimberly Kent at least mentally if not physically. Her grave was in the meadow she loved, not a hundred yards from the house, from her family.
“What’s going on?” he asked his top cowhand, Lonnie Roark, aka Lone Star Lonnie.
“Found something near the base of Rushing Creek that I thought you might want to take a look at personally,” Lone Star said.
“Okay. What will I see?” Mitch asked impatiently. He wasn’t frustrated with Lonnie; he was aggravated with himself for imagining his dead wife in the plaza.
Curiosity got the best of him, so he turned to get a better look at the woman. She shifted her purse to her other shoulder and he could’ve sworn her movements mimicked Kimberly’s.
It couldn’t be her, though. His wife had blue-black hair the color of a cloudless night sky that cascaded down her back. This woman had short, curly hair with so much bleach that it had turned white.
For a split second he locked gazes with her. She spun around, putting her back to him and tucking her chin to her chest. That was odd and it sent a cold ripple down his back. He strained to get a better look from this distance, but she’d moved next to a sculpture of some sort. He supposed it was modern art but he never did understand what that meant. The woman glanced back at him and his gut coiled.
Or maybe it wasn’t that strange and he was just overly on edge. She sidestepped, breaking his line of sight as she blocked herself with the sculpture. What was Bleached-Blonde up to?
“It’s one of the herd.” Lone Star hesitated, which wasn’t like him and set off a firework display of warning lights inside Mitch. This day was going to hell fast.
“What’s going on?” Mitch tried to stifle his annoyance. He couldn’t take his eyes off the partially blocked mystery woman. His need to get a closer look to prove she wasn’t Kimberly set him off. If he knew what was best, he’d walk away. Leave it alone.
So why the hell couldn’t he?
“One of the heifers must’ve caught hold of something and it tore one of her hooves off. Thing is I’ve searched everywhere within a fifty-foot radius and can’t find the darn thing. What’s left of her leg is a mess.”
“You got an opinion on what could’ve happened?” Mitch didn’t like the sound of this and it darkened his already somber mood.
“I’d be throwing spaghetti against the wall. There’s no other sign of trouble and it looks like she died from bleeding out.”
Mitch winced at the slow death that would’ve been for her. He bit back a curse. “Any tracks leading up to her?”
“Nothing I can see.”
“You were right to call,” he said on a sharp sigh. The stress of the day that had barely started already wore on him.
“I know you have enough on your plate this morning, boss.” The people closest to Mitch knew about Rea’s condition. Lone Star was in Mitch’s inner circle. Even though Mitch was the boss, he and Lonnie were longtime friends. Mitch knew most folks in town, having grown up in Jacobstown, and he and Lonnie had been schoolmates.
“This was worth the interruption. Keep her right where she is until I can get back. You were right about me wanting to see for myself. Do me a favor and keep everyone else out of the area until I can check it out.” Mitch didn’t like the sound of this one bit. It could involve anything from bored teens who were up to no good or acting on a dare to cultists, and Mitch wanted answers. If this was a prank gone wrong, he’d deal with it. Anger fisted his free hand. There was no excuse for making an animal suffer. “Thanks for the heads-up. Give me a call if you find any others. For now I’m assuming this is the only issue.”
“Haven’t found others but I have the boys counting heads,” Lone Star Lonnie confirmed. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled just in case.”
“Let’s keep the rest of the herd away from the area.” Mitch figured it would be a good idea to keep them closer to the south-facing pasture.
He glanced up to see the woman had disappeared. Curiosity had him scanning the area, searching for her.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a streak of blond hair jutting out from the front of a hoodie. The woman wore jeans, tennis shoes and sunglasses. He did a double take to make sure it was the same person. Had she noticed that he’d been staring?
Of course she had; otherwise why put on the hoodie that had been tied around her waist? Mitch needed to turn around and get his tail in gear so he wouldn’t be late for the doctor visit.
So why couldn’t he force his boots to move?
Mitch rubbed his blurry eyes before ending the call with Lone Star. All kinds of scenarios ran through his mind about the mystery woman. Could Kimberly have survived the accident but had no idea who she was? Had someone saved her from the wreckage? Been keeping her all of this time?
No, someone would’ve put two and two together by now.
Lack of sleep wasn’t doing great things for his brain. The woman couldn’t be Kimberly. His wife was dead.
For whatever reason he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Curiosity? Something else? Something more primal?
An ache formed in his chest. It was wishful thinking that had him wanting to get a closer look at the blonde. He’d already calculated the odds and knew this was a losing hand. Try getting his fool heart to listen to logic.
Mitch checked his watch. Technically he was ten minutes early.
Turning the stroller toward the mystery woman, he decided to double down on his bad luck. He scanned the area and noticed a pair of men on the opposite side of the plaza, standing with their faces angled toward her. She turned her head slightly toward the men and he could see her tense up. She took a step closer to a light pole and Mitch realized she was trying to block their line of sight.
Now Mitch’s curiosity really skyrocketed.
Call it the cowboy code, but he needed to know that she would be okay. The blonde seemed to be in some kind of trouble, and he didn’t like the looks of the two men wearing their jacket collars upturned, reflective sunglasses and ball caps. Very little of their faces were visible and his experience had taught him that law-abiding citizens didn’t hide their faces in public. Nothing about either of them said they were law enforcement, so he assumed the blonde wasn’t doing anything illegal.
One of the men moved enough to see around the light pole. He had his phone out, angled toward the blonde. Was he stalking her? Was he an ex? Someone she’d rejected? More thoughts along those lines crossed his mind, and none of them sat well.
Of course, a stalker would be alone. The guy standing next to the picture taker seemed just as interested in her, and didn’t that jack up more of Mitch’s danger radar? Were the men targeting her?
The blonde seemed to realize something was going on. Good for her. She wouldn’t be an easy mark that way.
Once again his thoughts circled back to how familiar this woman seemed. Was there any chance his wife had survived the accident but lost her memory? Could she have been walking around for the past eleven months with no idea who she was or where she came from?
It might be a stretch but he’d heard stranger things had happened.
Or did he want to see his wife again so badly that he was confusing her with a stranger? A woman who was similar in size and shape, who also seemed to be alone and in trouble? Was he grasping at any sign of hope?
There was only one way to find out.
Chapter Two (#u8a2678ba-1ad0-5002-bd7a-d59d385ca9bb)
Kimberly’s husband turned toward her and took a few steps in her direction. No. No. No. Go back.
Seeing her babies, their sweet faces, was so much harder than she’d thought it would be. The twins were one-year-old now and she’d known their first-year checkup would be around this time. It wasn’t difficult to call the scheduler of the pediatrician she’d meticulously vetted to get the exact day and time.
Pain nearly crippled her but she fought against the tide of emotion. She couldn’t lose control. There was too much at stake.
Life was about to spin out of control. Again. Seeing her twins one more time was a risk that Kimberly Kent—correction, Lily Grable—had had to take. The past eleven months had been excruciating, like living in a cave with no prayer of sunlight breaking through the darkness.
Life had taught Kimberly how to deal with loss early on. But nothing had prepared her for walking away from the only man she could ever love and the babies she’d only dreamed were possible. Happily-ever-after was for princesses, not orphans like Kimberly. And now she risked making all of that heartache count for nothing if Mitch recognized her. Or worse if the men watching her connected the dots to her family.
Panic seized her.
Let Mitch get a few steps closer and he would make a scene. She let herself take another look at him even though the grip around her heart from before tightened the minute she did.
Mitch looked even better than she remembered. At six foot four he’d always dwarfed her. His wide chest and ripples of muscles were visible underneath his Western shirt. Those muscled thighs... She could see wisps of his sandy-brown hair from the rim of his gray Stetson. The color of his hat would match the steel of his eyes.
Maybe she could play it cool and Mitch would stop. There was no way he could realize who she was with as much as she’d changed her appearance. Right? She looked at her husband from out of the corner of her eye and her stomach fell. He was too curious to give up, and that was bad.
He’d expose her, himself and the babies. She glanced toward the pair of men who’d found her. They’d seen her but had they pegged her? Did they know who she was? That was the big question.
Kimberly eased around the back of the sculpture, forcing her body to move away from Mitch when every muscle inside her wanted to run toward him instead. She breathed in the heavy Texas autumn air and tried to block out the memories of feeling safe in his arms. A storm was brewing and the humidity kicked up a few notches alongside her pulse.
Her heart pounded against her ribs at the thought she might be bringing the men who were chasing her right to her husband and children’s doorstep. Whoever had killed her father and was now after her seemed ready to stop at nothing. The men wouldn’t think twice about using her children or Mitch to draw her out. And even after two and a half years she had no idea what they wanted from her. All she knew was that her father had gotten himself into trouble. Beyond that she had no idea with whom or how. Her street smarts had kept her alive. She’d immediately changed her identity and gotten out of New Mexico.
But those creeps always seemed to catch up no matter how well she hid.
She’d had no choice but to disappear after giving birth, once the creeps had shown up in Jacobstown, Texas. She still had no idea what they wanted from her. Her father had left her a cryptic message to stay in the shadows until he cleaned up his mess hours before his death—a death that had been ruled an accident, but Kimberly knew better. There was no way her father would’ve drowned. He couldn’t swim and was deathly afraid of the water, although he’d never admitted to that fear. The man had never once been out on a boat, so it made even less sense that he would’ve rented one, taken it out and then—what?—decided to jump off the side and swim for the first time in his life?
Guilt nipped at her. She’d known he was in trouble but she had been too involved in work at the small craft boutique and night school to stop to ask why. Her father had been acting strange for months, missing their dinner dates and not picking up his cell when she called. His behavior had been erratic and she could kick herself for not pressing him for details about why he was acting so weird. She’d honestly and naively believed that he’d tell her if something was really wrong. He’d always been her rock and she’d been able to count on him. Losing her foster mom to kidney disease had been hard on both of them. At the time she had thought that most of her dad’s antics had to do with grief.
Looking back she should’ve seen the signs. Should’ve taken him more seriously. Should’ve been a better daughter to the man who’d taken her in when she was at her lowest point and saved her life.
“You’re scaring me, Dad,” she’d admitted when he’d asked her to get rid of her cell and use the new one he’d handed her.
“I’m being cautious,” he’d defended. “Make your old man happy and use the phone.”
“Only if you promise to tell me what this is about,” she’d said.
“I will. Give me a couple of days to get it sorted out first,” he’d promised.
“You’re sure this isn’t a big deal?” It had felt like one with the way he was acting.
“I owe someone a little money and they’re blowing it out of proportion.” He’d winked at her. “Nothing I can’t handle. I just don’t want you being bothered until I get this sorted out.”
The only reason she’d left it at that was because he’d seemed embarrassed. She’d thought maybe he didn’t want his creditor calling her, so she’d left it at face value.
Guilt was a face punch. If she’d pushed him for answers, he might still be alive.
When Deputy Talisman had all but accused her of foul play in order to inherit her father’s business, she’d been defensive. It had become clear to her pretty quickly that she was going to be the target of his investigation. And then two men had busted into her apartment in the middle of the night. She’d barely managed to escape and had been on the run ever since.
Marrying Mitch had been done on a whim. The almost-immediate pregnancy had been a shock. And she would pay the price for those lapses in judgment for the rest of her life, which would be short if the creeps following her caught up to her.
A part of her wondered if this whole ordeal would ever be over. Could she come back to the life she’d loved with Mitch and the babies?
Reality said it would be impossible.
Her heart galloped at the sight of her husband moving toward her out of the corner of her eye, along with her sweet babies, who turned one today. Birthdays were supposed to be happy events. But being this close without being able to touch her children felt like knife jabs to her chest.
Knowing that the twins would be at the office of the pediatrician she’d meticulously vetted prior to having those two little miracles had made it far too tempting. Going anywhere near Jacobstown, Texas, or the ranch was and had been off-limits. Those were lines she knew better than to cross. No matter how much she wanted—no, needed—to see her babies again, she couldn’t risk bringing the creeps she’d been running from for an exhausting two and-a-half years to their doorstep. And then there was Mitch...
Seeing him again hurt.
Leaving a question mark in her husband’s mind about her death wasn’t ideal—a determined man could be dangerous. And part of her wished she could’ve confided in him, wished he could save her. She’d been close to confessing in the days before finding out she was pregnant. She’d known he would put his life at risk and she’d needed him to focus on protecting the twins.
How stupid had she been when she’d met him to think she could ever have a normal life? A normal life with kids and a man she loved, who loved her in return more than anything else?
That kind of love had been too powerful to turn her back on and had seduced her into thinking she could disappear into obscurity in the small town where she’d been hiding.
Mitch was everything a man should be to her—strong, virile...honest. Lying to him about her identity had been even more difficult because of that. Kimberly had been lying to herself for so long that she’d all but forgotten how to be truthful anymore. And maybe that’s what had drawn her to the serious rancher with the steel-colored eyes.
Falling for Mitch Kent had been the easy part. She’d done that hard. Apparently she’d knocked a few screws loose when she’d made that tumble, because she’d landed in a fantasy that said if she kept a low profile, everything in her life would magically work out. But there were a few determined men who wanted to erase her presence. By the time she’d met Mitch, she’d already been running for six months.
A part of her wished—prayed—that he would forget all about her. The other part—the selfish part—couldn’t go there even hypothetically. She wanted him to remember her, to love her.
“Kimberly,” he said from behind her, and there was certainty in his voice instead of a question.
Certainty would kill them all.
A glance to the right said Mitch wasn’t the only one about to close in on her. She felt like a mouse trapped in a maze.
There had to be something to use to create a distraction so she could get out of there. The air thinned, making it difficult to breathe.
A middle-aged woman wearing jeans and a light sweater walked toward her from the south with a black Lab on a leash. Kimberly bolted toward the woman and forced a smile.
“Can I pet your dog, ma’am?” she asked, pouring on the sweetness.
