Wanted. Delores Fossen
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the baby at risk by hiring idiot gunmen to shoot at or near you.”
“I wouldn’t.” Her chin came up. Her voice was strong. “This baby is my life, and...” She snapped away from him.
Wyatt could finish that for her. This baby is my life, and you have nothing to do with it.
Or something along those lines.
She’d already said she didn’t want a baby daddy. Wyatt had to make sure that was the truth. Then he’d figure out what to do with that truth and everything else that seemed to be hitting him at once.
“Call ahead,” Wyatt instructed the deputy, “and arrange for Lyla to be checked out by a doctor. Just in case.”
He expected her to argue with that, too, and maybe it was on her mind when she opened her mouth. But then she just slid her hand over her stomach.
“Thanks,” she said under her breath, and the deputy made the call.
While he did that, Wyatt checked his own phone. He finally had service, so he made a call and asked one of his foster brothers, Marshal Declan O’Malley, to find out if the utility company had sent someone to Lyla’s house. With one thing down, he mentally went through the long list of other calls he had to make.
But the ringing of Lyla’s phone stopped him.
“Mr. Mobley,” she greeted the caller. Her boss. “I might not be in this morning. I’m on my way to the Bulverde sheriff’s office....Oh, you heard about the shooting.” She paused. “No, I’m fine.”
Lyla opened her mouth to say more, but Wyatt heard the chatter on the other end of the line. He couldn’t tell what her boss was saying, but it had captured her complete attention.
“What?” she finally said, quickly followed by “Why?”
More chatter, and Wyatt still couldn’t make out enough of it to tell what was going on, but he hoped like the devil it wasn’t more bad news. He’d had enough of that already.
“We’ll talk when I get to the office,” Lyla snapped, and she ended the call. It took several moments, though, for her to look at Wyatt. “Mobley excused himself from the Jonah Webb investigation, and the Rangers want me to take over.”
Not exactly a surprise. “I hate to say I told you so, but I did.”
“It could mean nothing,” she concluded, but the worry in her voice said it was a whole lot of something. “Mobley got another job. A civilian company with much higher pay. They want him to work with a legal watchdog group that’s retesting evidence from old criminal cases.”
“The timing’s suspicious, but it gives me another lead. The person who offered Mobley the new job could be behind the rest of this.”
She swiveled around to face him. “What exactly is the rest of this?” She glanced uneasily at the deputy and moved closer to Wyatt. “If this is some kind of plan to get me to falsify evidence, it won’t work,” she whispered.
“It might be that.” But he just didn’t know.
“The in vitro could have been just an honest mistake,” she whispered a moment later. “Mobley’s new job could be a coincidence.”
“And the gunmen? The camera?” Wyatt pressed. “More coincidences? Because when there are that many of them, we call that a pattern.”
He almost told her about the information trail that had led him to her, but his phone buzzed. Declan.
“First of all, the utility company didn’t send someone to Lyla Pearson’s house,” Declan said the second Wyatt answered. “And second, what the hell’s going on?”
Considering that Wyatt had been about to ask his brother the same thing, this wasn’t a good start to what he needed to be a good conversation. “Are you referring to something specific? Because there’s a lot going on.”
“The Rangers got an anonymous tip that you’re trying to influence the Webb murder investigation.”
Ah, man. He didn’t need this. “No, someone else is trying to influence it.” And maybe already had. “Look, this is too complicated to get into over the phone—”
“Does it have anything to do with Lyla Pearson, the assistant director of the San Antonio CSU?”
That sent an uneasy feeling knifing through him. “It does. Why? Other than the fact that she didn’t get a real service call from the electric company, what do you know about her?”
“According to the criminal informant I just talked to, she’s in big trouble, Wyatt, and you should avoid her at all costs.”
“Too late.”
Declan cursed. “You’re with her?”
“Yeah. Now why don’t you tell me why that’s a bad idea?” Wyatt insisted.
“Because according to the informant, by going to her, you just signed her death warrant.”
Chapter Four
Death warrant.
Those two words kept going through her head, and each time, they robbed Lyla of her breath. Not that her breath was anywhere near steady yet, despite the several hours they’d spent at the sheriff’s office and hospital getting her checkup. All was well with the baby, thank goodness, but it might be a while before she could rein in this feeling of panic. Her racing heartbeat, too. And the adrenaline crash.
Yes, she had that going on, as well.
Despite the clean bill of health from her obstetrician, none of this stress could be good for the baby. But then, neither were those bullets.
It was the too-fresh memory of those bullets and those two words, death warrant, that had made Lyla get in the truck with Wyatt after they’d finished giving their statements to the deputy.
Now she was debating that decision to allow him to place her in his protective custody. She wasn’t thinking straight, but what she did know was that Wyatt seemed to want to keep her alive and safe. And he seemed capable of doing that.
Capable of wrecking her life, too.
But maybe once she got all of this sorted out, there’d be no need for protection. No need to dodge gunmen lurking on her ranch.
“You’re sure this criminal informant was telling the truth about the death threat?” she asked. “Because if he’s a criminal, how can you trust him?”
“He’s getting paid to spill his guts, and if what he spills is a lie, then the payments dry up.” He paused, mumbled some profanity. “Unfortunately, this guy’s reliable, and he said somebody’s got their eye on you.”
“But he didn’t know who.” It wasn’t a question. Lyla had already pressed Wyatt on that when he’d first told her about the threat. “Then how could the criminal informant know anything about the other details if he doesn’t even know the person’s identity?”
“Bad people talk. Sometimes too much, and this guy plays a fly on the wall so he can make money. He says someone’s going to force you to cooperate with altering evidence, and if it doesn’t work out, then you’ll be eliminated. Dead,” he clarified.
Even if the informant had lied, she wasn’t immune to just the threat of it. Mercy, how had things gotten this far out of control?
“I should be in San Antonio P.D.’s protective custody,” she tossed out there. “Not yours.”
He spared her a glance with those intense blue eyes but kept his attention on the rural road that would take them to his family’s ranch.
Which she was certain wasn’t a good idea at all.
“Those guys took shots at me, and that makes this federal now.”
It