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“He always said you were the most honest cop he knew.”
“He had a hell of a way of showing it.” Blake stood and paced the bedroom floor.
“I didn’t see the point in coming here. Maybe I was right. You hate Vince, but…” She shifted and her mouth twitched in pain, but she didn’t complain, didn’t say a word. “I was shot. If anything happened to me—” Her voice choked.
“Ethan would be alone,” Blake finished. The fatigue, the fear, the pain had started to get to her. He could see it in her eyes. Blake sat on the side of the bed. “Then why won’t you let me help?”
She pressed her hand to her side. “I’m alive. Tomorrow we’ll leave, start a new life. It’s the only way to be certain we’re safe.”
The crackling of the police radio in the other room made her jump. She clasped his arm. “Please, don’t tell anyone we’re here. I’m begging you. I’ll do anything. Just don’t give us away.”
Blake removed her hand from his sweater. “Stay here,” he muttered. He walked out of the room and down the hall, torn between duty and justice. Hell of it was, he understood. He would’ve done whatever it took to save Joey. Even his ex-wife, Kathy. He’d been called into the station for yet another Internal Affairs interview the afternoon of the accident. Kathy had picked up Joey from preschool instead of Blake. Maybe if he’d been in the car, with his reflexes, his training, he could have avoided the accident. Or at least made sure Joey survived… If Blake could have saved them, he would’ve sacrificed himself.
Slow but determined footsteps followed him down the hall. Not surprising. Amanda wouldn’t leave anything to chance. Not when it came to her son. He got that.
He tried to ignore the fact she didn’t trust him. The truth chafed, but he didn’t trust her, either. She knew more than she was telling. He could feel it.
“Sheriff?” His deputy’s voice crackled through the living room. “Parris checking in.”
Blake picked up the microphone. “Donna make it home?”
“Kicking and screaming.” The older man chuckled. “Muttering about being on stand-by. She hasn’t changed since your dad and I caught her staying all night at the station during that tornado warning fifteen years ago.”
“Streets still clear? No one traveling in this mess?”
“Hank Stratton tried to make it to Charlie’s Bar, but he slid down the driveway and crawled home. I told his wife to steal his boots. Should keep him from wandering outside. Other than that, the whole town’s dead.”
Blake slid a sidelong glance at Amanda, his pause longer than usual. “Could you check on my mom?”
There was silence on the radio. “You want me to check on her? You okay, Blake?”
“Keep your radio with you in case of emergencies.”
“Are you serious? You’re staying in?”
“I’m not patrolling tonight.” Blake watched as Amanda teetered and swayed. She grabbed the table for support just as he wrapped his arm around her, careful to avoid her injury. Her slight frame leaned into him. He felt every curve pressing against him in a way he’d only imagined before now. His body tingled with awareness, his senses sharpened at her vulnerability. She needed him whether she knew it or not. “Keep me posted.”
“Hell has officially frozen over. Parris out.”
Blake set the radio down, and Amanda let out a relieved breath as he held her to his side, their closeness fanning the shimmering heat he couldn’t deny. He gave her a sharp look. “Surprised I didn’t have Parris run a check on you?”
“Frankly, yes.”
“I don’t lie, Amanda.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been burned more than once.” She tried to straighten but winced, her left hand pressing against her bandage.
Amanda tugged away from him and planted her legs firmly. He could see she used every ounce of strength to stand and face him.
“Thank you for what you’ve done,” she said. “When morning comes, we’ll be out of your town and your life.” She slowly turned, and with careful steps, walked into her bedroom, emerging a few seconds later with a pillow and small throw. She disappeared into Ethan’s room without looking back.
At the soft click of the door, Blake sighed. He could still feel the imprint of her body against his. She might act brave, but she’d clung to him, and in doing so she’d ignited desire in his gut. A flame he’d thought had been doused for good. Apparently he’d been mistaken.
Pushing the tempting thoughts aside, Blake grabbed a cup of coffee and walked to his office. An internet search on Vince was definitely in order. Blake had been blinded by his anger toward his ex-partner, but he couldn’t deny the truth of the current situation. Vince was dead. Amanda had been shot. Her son was at risk. Cops were involved, and not in a good way.
He wouldn’t let her vanish with all those nonanswers she’d tried to pass off. He had his own unfinished business in Austin. If Vince had sent Amanda to him, there had to be a connection between the attack and his being drummed out of the Austin Police Department. Somewhere deep inside, he still wanted to believe he hadn’t been completely wrong about Vince.
Blake booted the computer and typed his ex-partner’s name into the search engine. He would discover the truth and protect Amanda and her son, whether she wanted his help or not.
* * *
AMANDA WOKE TO SUNLIGHT streaming through the slats in the room where Blake had bandaged her, not on the floor next to Ethan. She remembered shivering beside her son’s bed, knowing she couldn’t leave him alone except to throw his blood-soaked jeans in the washer. He’d hardly had any sleep since they left Austin. Each time she’d thought he’d rest for more than an hour, he’d jerked awake, screaming for Vince. Begging the bad cop to go away.
That’s how she’d learned what really happened. That’s why she’d veered from a trip to the hospital. She’d pressed her son to tell her more, but Ethan refused to say a word about what he’d seen. Except in his dreams.
And last night she hadn’t been there for him.
She covered her eyes with her forearm. Blake must have moved her last night. But what about Ethan? She lay there for a few seconds, listening for his cries.
Not a sound.
She didn’t like the quiet. Not one bit.
Amanda threw off the blankets piled on top of her and tried to sit up. Pain stabbed at her side. She groaned but didn’t surrender to it. She could handle anything as long as she knew Ethan was safe. Holding her torso stiff, she opened her bedroom door and hurried into the next room, her bare feet cold on the hardwood floors.
Amanda nearly tripped over a rocking chair that hadn’t been in the room last night. Ethan’s clean jeans were folded neatly on the dresser. An afghan was placed in perfect order on the seat. A coffee cup sat on a coaster near the chair. Ethan lay huddled beneath a thick quilt.
He was safe. And asleep.
He clutched a small, much-worn teddy bear in the crook of his arm. Amanda blinked away tears at the sight of her son clinging to the toy. They’d had no time to bring anything with them. She’d taken him away from everything he knew and loved. And Blake had provided Ethan a small bit of childhood to hold.
She had no doubt Blake had watched over Ethan after putting her to bed last night. The nightmares must have come. Again.
And she hadn’t heard them. Blake had.
Slowly, she walked back to her bedroom to dress. God, how had this happened? All she’d wanted for Ethan was a good life, for him to feel safe and protected.
She wished she could ask Blake for help. Her heart had gone pitter-patter the few times he’d smiled. When he’d held her in his arms last night, he’d made her feel small, but not vulnerable. Only protected. For a second, she’d wanted to lean her head against him and forget the danger. But she had no choice. She had to hide the car she’d stolen and vanish under the radar. She couldn’t ask a sheriff to break the law for her. Especially one who had been through what Blake had.
Amanda left the bedroom and headed toward the kitchen. Keeping as quiet as possible, she opened the door and stepped onto the porch. The sun’s brightness made the ice sparkle like glistening diamonds. The place looked like a winter wonderland. One thing about West Texas, if you wanted the weather to change, all you had to do was wait a minute.
The ditch to her right wasn’t deep, but last night it might just as well have been the Grand Canyon. She shivered. She could have easily frozen to death.
She followed the line of the driveway as it curved in front of the small barn. Where had the car landed? She remembered hitting the brakes and skidding. Then little else. Shoving her hands into her pockets, Amanda crossed the yard and stared in disbelief at the scars marring the ice-covered snow on the road.
The car was gone.
She whirled around and ran into a wall of muscle.
Blake clasped her shoulders to steady her. “In a hurry?”
“Where’s the car?” Oh, God. That beat-up station wagon was the only way out of town and into oblivion. Her hands trembled. Her money. The gun. Gone.
“Amanda.” Blake shook her gently. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Where. Is. The. Car?” She tried to keep the panic out of her voice, but she couldn’t stop it from quivering.
“Scooter towed it to his garage. It’s probably totaled.”
“This can’t be happening.” Amanda’s legs wobbled beneath her. What was she going to do? “Please tell me it’s drivable.”
“Your suspension is damaged. The tire was practically bent underneath.”
“How much to fix it?”
“At least a thousand. Maybe more.”
Amanda swayed. She could have crumpled into a heap on the snow and cried. She needed that car. But she had only a couple hundred in her purse.
Her purse. Her ID. Panic vibrated through her body. She had a vague memory of grabbing the bag as she stumbled out of the car, but had she? If the Austin cops found the car… “I’ve got to get Ethan. We have to go.”
She started to run to the house, but her feet slipped on the ice, and she landed hard on her backside. The fall jarred her ribs. Fire seared through her. She doubled over and clutched at the wound, rocking to and fro. She couldn’t stop the moans.
How could she protect her son like this?
Blake knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms. “Whoa, there. Take it easy. You’re trying to foul up my bandage again.”
She shoved herself to her feet, barely able to stand the burning at her side. She teetered, fighting against the spots dancing in front of her eyes. She couldn’t pass out. “We have to disappear. He’ll find us.”
“Who’s looking for you, Amanda?” He clasped her arms and spun her around to face him, his Stetson not shielding the intensity of his gaze.
“I don’t know. And that’s no lie. Some guy outside Vince’s house shot me. He came after us. He won’t stop. I know it. I have to get us out of here.”
“I did a little research. There’s no news of Vince being killed. Anywhere.”
Amanda dug her fingers into Blake’s arm. “Please tell me you didn’t call Austin.”
Before he could answer, she wrenched away, struggled up the front steps and stumbled through the door. Blake followed, hovering beside her like an overprotective guardian. She knew he wouldn’t give up, but he’d have to. She’d beg, borrow or steal some money. Pay him back later. Somehow. Ethan’s room drew her gaze. The door stood open.
Her son hadn’t made a move without her since Vince’s death. What if the killer had found them? What if he’d taken her son?
She ran across the hardwood floor and rushed into the bedroom. Empty. “Ethan!”
Fear laced her voice. She whirled around, shoved open the closet.
No Ethan. “Where is he?” She searched the bathroom. Behind the shower curtain. Nothing.
“Oh, God, Blake. Where’s Ethan?”
Blake didn’t respond. She looked over her shoulder. He stood frozen, staring at a cracked-open entrance to a room down the hall. His face turned white. “No.”
Blake burst into a run and slammed open the oak door against the wall. Amanda ran into his back.
“What are you doing?” Blake’s voice boomed. “No one goes in here.”
Ethan froze, the bright yellow dump truck in his hand rolling to a stop. Amanda placed herself between Ethan and a livid Blake. She’d never seen him like this.
“You…you can’t play with that.” Agony carved into each line of his face, he sidestepped Amanda and took the truck from Ethan.
Terror painted her son’s expression. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He ran to Amanda and threw himself against her.
She winced as he hit her side, but banished the waves of pain, focused solely on Ethan. “Shh, honey. Mommy’s here.” Worry vanished. She glared at Blake. “What are you trying to do? Scare him to death?”
Blake’s wild-eyed gaze darted around the room before slowly clearing. He stared at the dog, who cowered in the corner, at Amanda holding her son. His throat spasmed. He thrust a shaking hand through his hair. “Oh, my God. I—”
The torment on Blake’s face shattered her.
He stared down at the floor behind her. She followed his gaze. A cardboard box in the middle of the floor. The name Joey in large bold letters on its side. And she understood. His son’s toys. And from the look of dust covering the furniture, the door hadn’t been opened since Blake had moved here.
A twin bed with a football bedspread lay untouched, waiting for someone.
The room was a shrine.
“Blake—”
His distraught stare met hers. “I’m…sorry. I haven’t been in here since—” His voice trailed off. He turned and slowly walked out. His shoulders slumped, as if his soul had broken in two.
She stared after him. Her heart shattered at the devastation and loss on his face. Her eyes stung at the defeated picture of his leaving the room.
She rubbed her face. What had she done? Ethan was close to Joey’s age when he’d been killed. She hadn’t considered how hard this would be for Blake. The painful memories Ethan would trigger. She’d never wanted to hurt Blake. She’d never knowingly have done that.
Blake’s steps faded, and Amanda knelt down on the floor, needing to touch Ethan, to remind herself he was alive and here. She pulled him into her lap and cupped his face. She pushed back the hair falling on his forehead. What if she’d lost her son as Blake had lost his? Would she survive?
Ethan’s face scrunched up. “I didn’t mean to do anything bad.”
“I know, honey, I know. What made you come in here?”
“Just looking. Sheriff Blake found the bear in a box in my closet. I saw all the stuff in here…” His voice trailed off.
Amanda studied the boxes in the room, brand-new with shipping labels still intact. Left here to wait. For a boy to play with them. A boy who never came.
Until yesterday. Until Ethan.
“You wanted more toys?”
He nodded, his expression full of chagrin. “I just wanted to play. I didn’t mean to make him mad.”
Struggling to keep the pain she felt for Blake off her face, she kissed her son’s forehead, her resolve to protect him that much stronger. “He wasn’t mad. Just surprised.” She pushed back on her heels. “Why don’t you play in your room for a while, and I’ll talk to Blake.”
