Shattered. Joan Johnston
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didn’t like the look in Shaw’s eyes. He had no right to be jealous. Or possessive. But she didn’t want to exacerbate the situation, so she said, “Nevertheless, this man is willing, and able, to keep an eye on me and my sons. His divorce will be final any day now and—”
“He’s planning to move in?”
Kate heard the challenge in Shaw’s gravelly voice, watched as his eyes narrowed and his hands formed into powerful fists. It seemed safest to say, “We haven’t planned that far ahead.”
She was still looking forward to making love to Jack for the first time. They’d been on the verge of consummating their relationship last fall—kissing in the hall, on the way to her bedroom—when Jack had been called away to confront a killer. Shortly thereafter, Kate had been shot. She’d only recently come home.
So, despite the fact she’d first attempted to seduce Jack ten years ago, when she was nineteen, she still had no idea what kind of lover he was. Which was surprising, when Kate thought about it, because she’d gone to bed with Wyatt Shaw within thirty minutes of meeting him.
Kate felt her breasts peak at the memory of his mouth on her naked flesh. She quickly lowered her gaze, mortified at where her thoughts had led her. Again.
She made herself picture Jack’s beloved face instead. She imagined his dark brown eyes looking down at her, imagined her fingers threading through his sun-streaked chestnut hair. Jack was tall, like Shaw, but his skin was burnished by wind and sun. She ached to have Jack kiss her, touch her, in places where… Where Wyatt Shaw already had.
“You can’t marry anyone so long as J.D. is still alive,” Shaw said, interrupting her disconcerting thoughts. “The way I see it, right now—and for the foreseeable future—my sons don’t have adequate protection.”
“My sons,” Kate automatically corrected, her chin lifting pugnaciously, “are my responsibility.” When Shaw continued to stare at her, she grudgingly corrected, “All right. Our sons are my responsibility. I don’t want or need your help.”
“The danger is real.”
He sounded concerned. But the fact was, they were strangers who, a long time ago, had found solace—and physical pleasure—in each other’s arms. An image of herself trembling as she watched Shaw’s callused fingertips stroke downward across her flat belly flashed in Kate’s mind. She made a growling sound in her throat, angry that memories of herself in bed with Shaw were so unforgettable.
“You’d all be safer if you came to live with me in Houston until J.D. is found,” Shaw said.
“That’s out of the question.”
“My compound is surrounded by high stone walls. I have twenty-four-hour security cameras and guards with dogs that patrol the perimeter.”
“That sounds more like a prison than a home,” Kate snapped.
“Lucky and Chance…”
When he paused, Kate saw his throat working. It was the first time he’d said his sons’ names since he’d shoved his way into her home. Apparently, it had affected him deeply.
But Kate couldn’t afford to sympathize, couldn’t afford to glamorize or glorify his appearance on her doorstep. She didn’t dare feel anything for Wyatt Shaw. She was fighting for her children’s lives. If Shaw had his way, she and her sons would be imprisoned behind high stone walls. She wasn’t about to let that happen.
“Legally, J.D. Pendleton is my sons’ father. You provided the seed. That was all. You have no legal rights where Lucky and Chance are concerned. None. I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. My sons—yes, my sons,” she repeated in a fierce voice, “have managed fine without you in their lives for eight years. And they’re far more likely to grow into fine young men if you never come anywhere near them.”
Shaw’s face blanched.
Kate felt a pang of remorse for hurting him. And ruthlessly quelled it. What did he expect? His reputation had preceded him. No mother would willingly expose her children to a man like Wyatt Shaw. He was the antithesis of Jack McKinley. One man was an outlaw, the other a lawman. There was no question in her mind who would make the better father.
She took a deep breath and said, “I’d like you to leave.”
Kate expected Shaw to argue. Expected him to threaten. Expected him to point out all the reasons why his suggestion was the best way, the only way, to keep her children safe. But he did none of those things.
He simply said, “Goodbye, Kate.” Then he turned and walked to the door. He opened it, glanced back over his shoulder, and said, “I’ll be in touch.”
Kate hurried across the living room to close and lock the door behind him. But she didn’t feel the least bit safe.
I’ll be in touch.
What did that mean? Kate’s stomach cramped as she realized how vulnerable her sons were. All Shaw had to do was intercept them at school. Or after they got off the bus.
Kate’s heart was lodged in her throat. She had to call the boys’ school. She had to warn them that her sons weren’t safe. She had to retrieve Lucky and Chance before Wyatt Shaw made his move. Because she was certain that once Shaw had her sons behind high stone walls, he would never give them back.
3
Jack McKinley had a knot in his belly. He wasn’t looking forward to the next half hour. He had a confession to make that was going to break Kate Pendleton’s heart.
He sat in his SUV, parked on the curb in front of her house, trying to put a smile on his face before he headed for her door. His mouth wouldn’t cooperate. She was going to see the truth in his eyes, so why pretend everything was all right? Nothing was going to be right for a very long time.
Well, not for the next four months, anyway. In four months his not-quite-ex-wife Holly would give birth to an unplanned baby. Unplanned because the sex between them had been unplanned.
Last November, Jack had traveled to Holly’s home in Kansas to have Thanksgiving dinner with his six-year-old son, Ryan. After Ryan had gone to bed, he’d had a terrible row with Holly over visitation rights.
The sharp blows they’d exchanged had all been verbal, but Holly knew exactly where to strike to hurt him most. He was equally adept at hitting below the belt and got in a few good licks of his own. They’d both been furious, hissing and snarling insults because Ryan was asleep down the hall.
They’d ended up having sex.
She’d scratched and bit. He’d left bruises. Neither had minded.
It was how they’d resolved most of the quarrels during their fractious nine-year marriage. There had been a lot less sex—and a lot less trust—toward the end. But he’d never imagined Holly could, or would, keep something as important as a child they’d created a secret from him.
But she had.
Jack had met Holly Gayle Tanner when he was fifteen and she was thirteen. She’d been on the junior cheerleading squad. He’d been the high school football quarterback. He’d already had sex with more than one girl when he’d met Holly, but he’d never been in love.
He’d taken one look at Holly, with her long, curly auburn hair and leaf-green eyes, her freckled nose and wide, friendly smile, and fallen hard and fast.
They’d been inseparable from the day they’d met. Until Holly had broken up with him at Christmas his senior year. He’d still been deeply in love with her, sifting his football scholarship offers as he planned their future together, when she’d told him, “I want a chance to date other guys. I want to see what else is out there. You’re going off to college, so we’ll be separated anyway.”
He’d been devastated.
Once