Lonestar Homecoming (16 page)

Gracie's stomach did a cartwheel. “Is something wrong? I mean, other than the fact that you're hurting?”

“You tell me.” He leaned over and slammed a piece of paper down on top of the coffee table.

His anger tasted like alum. Gracie stepped nearer and stared down at the paper. At the top was a photo of herself.The text below it instructed that she and her child were to be found immediately. She swallowed the bile that collected at the back of her throat.

“Wh-what is this?” Seeing the thunderous expression on his face, she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

He leaned back against the cushion and folded his arms across his chest. “It appears someone is searching for you. Someone who fired shots at me.”

Gracie put her hand to her mouth. “Oh no,” she whispered. “Was anyone else hurt?” Had Cid used his connections to the cartel to find her? An even more sinister thought was that the men who had murdered the federal agents were looking for her.

“Just the guy with this paper in his pocket.What's this all about, Gracie?”

“I. . . I'm not sure.”

“You know more than you're saying.What made you run away from your wedding?”

“Who did you show this to?” She could barely get the words out. With his eyes boring a hole through her, she couldn't think.

“Just the Border Patrol.They found it.”

“Border Patrol,” she muttered. Though she trusted Michael, the more people who knew her whereabouts, the more likely her hiding place would be discovered.

With a monumental effort, Gracie forced back her desire to run. “It might be my fiancé. I suspect he has some ties to a Mexican cartel, and he might be using his connections to find me.”

“What makes you think he's tied to a cartel? Is he dirty?”

She nodded. “Federal agents came to question me just before the wedding. They mentioned a cartel called La Loma. Gunmen showed up and killed the agents, then came looking for me.”

“La Loma?” Michael asked.

“They're behind most of the drug trafficking in the Southwest.”

“What did you tell the agents?”

“Nothing. The next thing I knew, a vanload of men was shooting and the agents were dead. I grabbed Hope and ran.”

“What about Cid?”

She eyed his grim expression. “I thought he was dead—until he called me later.”

“You didn't tell him where you were?”

She shook her head. “He has no idea.”

His stern expression relaxed. “So this poster likely has nothing to do with the shots fired at me. Cid is trying to track you down. Is he dangerous?”

“I don't know,” she whispered. Her eyes burned. She'd hoped never to see such disillusionment on Michael's face. “He's always seemed kind and gentle.”

“Then why didn't you tell him where you were?”

She rubbed her temples where pain pulsed. “I. . . I didn't trust him. I overheard him taking a bribe. I told him to cut off ties with the cartel or it was over. He said he did, but when the agents showed up, I knew it was all a lie. And I was only marrying him to give Hope a home. But he seems to be. . . obsessed with finding me. He's called several times.”

“I need any information you have about this gang you suspect he's involved with,” Michael said. “If they're operating here, I'll stop them.”

“I don't know anything important,” she said, holding his gaze. “I didn't recognize the men who bribed him, and the men who killed the agents were too far away to identify.”

“You could take a look at mug shots.”

She shook her head. “They mutilate and kill anyone who talks about them. I just want this all to go away. I have Hope to consider.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “So do I. Protecting you both is my responsibility.”

When was the last time she'd had anyone want to protect her? Not since she left home. She understood his anger. “I doubt they're operating around here. Isn't this Vargas's territory?”

He nodded. “Yeah, you're right. I'm overreacting.You should have told me all this though, Gracie.”

“I know,” she said.

“Why didn't you? There was plenty of opportunity.”

She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. “I was afraid.”

The sternness on his face softened. “I don't want you to be afraid of me, Gracie.You can tell me anything.We're a team.”

The intensity of his expression held her rapt.Their bond had been growing stronger, and she allowed herself a tiny glimmer of hope that they might make it to some kind of deeper relationship.

“I never would have come here if I thought it would put you or the kids in any danger,” she said. “I thought Cid was dead at first, and I was sure the cartel wouldn't go to the trouble of finding me once I was out of state. It's not like I know anything.”

He picked up the paper and waved it in her face. “This shows he's looking very hard.”

“I need some air,” she said, rushing for the door. He called after her, but she didn't want him to see her fear.

She let the screen door slam behind her, then she sank onto the porch swing. The sun was going down, and the rays of gold and red spread across the sky just above the desert hills. She took out her phone.The Feds might help. She could answer their questions and then ask them to keep Cid away from her. All the evidence pointed to his continued involvement with the cartel. The agents had been sure of their evidence, and the fact that the gunmen had let him live suggested he was with them.

She opened her phone, then closed it again. What reason could she give for her panic over Cid's obsession to find her? He hadn't threatened her. She'd be opening a can of worms with their questions about the murders too. It was something she wanted to forget, not rehash endlessly to the Feds. Though her letter had explained all she knew, there was no guarantee they'd believe her.

Michael thought she should face unpleasant things. Maybe she could take a step in that direction. She opened her phone again and found the number of the agent who had called her. She couldn't bring herself to push the send button.

The screen door banged. Michael limped onto the porch. She quickly closed her phone. “You shouldn't be up!”

“I'm fine.” He dropped onto a chair.“Who were you getting ready to call?”

“I. . . I thought about calling the FBI.”

The dim wash of light from the porch lamp illuminated his face. “What have they said about the murders?”

“I haven't talked to them.”

His lips tightened. “Surely they've called.”

She clenched her hands together in her lap. “Yes, but I missed the call.”

“And didn't call them back.” His tone held cynicism.

She held his gaze with as much bravery as she could muster. “No.”

He leaned forward. “Gracie, you have to quit avoiding anything unpleasant,” his voice rose. “Life holds both good and bad, and you're just making it harder on yourself when you run.The FBI isn't going to be happy you've been out of touch.”

“I don't know anything that can help them, but I was about to call.”

“Were you really?”

She dropped her gaze. “I'd just chickened out when you showed up.”

He sat back and sighed. “I thought so. Give me the number. I'll call them.”

“They'll want to talk to me.”

“I'll be with you if they do. I'm not going to abandon you to face this alone, honey.”

The endearment made her inhale. “I've never met a man like you,” she whispered.

He shrugged. “You're my wife.A man shields his wife.”

Discipline and commitment.Was that all he felt for her? “I'd better get the kids ready for bed,” she said.

Her own feelings were developing into something much stronger.

13

“C
AREFUL OF
D
ADDY'S LEG.
” G
RACIE SCOOPED UP
E
VAN AS HE ATTEMPTED
to clamber onto his father's lap. She deposited him on the sofa next to Michael. She'd brought him supper, bathed the kids, and put ice on his knee. She was so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open. She needed some downtime to digest what had happened today.

Michael lifted his arm so the boy could snuggle against him. “He won't hurt me. But it's time for bed, kiddo. It's nearly nine thirty.”

“I haven't had a story,” Even protested. “I want you to read to me, Daddy.”

Evan needed some reassurance. He'd just lost his mother and feared losing his father. Jordan had handled news of Michael's injury a little better.

“I think we can bend the rules just a bit tonight,” she said. “This scared him a little.” She mouthed the last sentence at Michael.

He frowned. “They have school tomorrow. Kids need a schedule.”

“It won't hurt them to stay up awhile. Fifteen minutes.You can read them a story.”

Evan's lip came out. “I don't want to go to bed.”

“Look at him. He's got dark circles under his eyes, and he's barely awake.Take him to bed, please.” His voice was inflexible.

She scooped the boy off the sofa. “Let's go to bed, sweetie.”

“No!” Evan wailed, squirming and reaching toward his father. “I want my daddy!”

“Daddy needs to rest too,” she said, carrying him out of the living room and up the steps.The girls were playing with their dolls in Hope's room.They looked up as she went past with a still-howling Evan. She reached his bedroom and set him on the bed. “Want me to read you another story?” she asked. She ran her hand over his head in a soothing gesture, hoping it would calm him, and pressed him back against the pillow. After pulling the covers up, she kissed his cheek.

He hiccupped. “I want my daddy.” But his eyes were already starting to close.

Gracie kept her cheek against his. “I know, sweetie, but you're so tired. If you get some rest, you can help me make pancakes for breakfast. I promise.”

“Okay.” He rolled to his side and began to breathe deeply.

That was easier than she'd expected. She stepped to Hope's room. “Time for bed, girls.”

“Okay.” Hope clutched Molly, her favorite new doll, to her chest.

“Can I sleep with Hope tonight?” Jordan asked.

Gracie smiled. It might be a comfort to both of them. “Okay.” She pulled back the covers, and both girls climbed into the bed. After tucking them in, she kissed both fresh-smelling cheeks, even though Jordan flinched.

“Daddy always prays with me,” Jordan said, her tone accusing.

Gracie's smile froze on her face. Her cheeks burned. She didn't deserve to go to God about anything, but she couldn't explain that to the children. She knelt beside the bed. “How about you pray?” she asked.

Jordan nodded and closed her eyes. “Jesus, take care of my dad and help his leg get better. Could you make Gracie go away? I don't want a new mommy. Amen.”

Gracie winced and pressed her forehead against the mattress. She was so tired. She'd been making headway with the children until tonight. Their fear of losing their father had stirred their insecurities. She wasn't sure she was up to the challenge.

“That was mean,” Hope said. “My mommy is really nice to you.”

Jordan hunched under the covers. “I want my own mommy.”

Gracie touched the little girl's dark hair and tried not to let it hurt when Jordan swatted her hand away. “I don't want to take the place of your mommy,” she said. “I know you love her very much. Can you think of me as a new friend?”

“Like me,” Hope said. “I'm your friend.” She took Jordan's hand.

“Maybe,” Jordan mumbled. “I don't want to talk anymore. I'm sleepy.” She closed her eyes, but the snore that issued from her pursed lips was obviously fake.

Gracie rose from the floor. “Good night, sweetheart. Love you.”

Hope rolled onto her stomach and closed her eyes. “Love you, too, Mommy.”

There were no sweeter words in the English language. Gracie flipped off the light and went toward the stairs. “Now to have it out with Michael,” she muttered.

M
ICHAEL SHIFTED HIS LEG, BUT THE ACHE DIDN'T EASE
. H
E GLANCED AT
his watch.Time to pop another pill. It might be smart to take it before Gracie came back so he could calmly discuss how out of line she'd been. Evan was
his
son. Her footsteps sounded on the stairs, then she stepped into view in the doorway.

“How's your pain level?” she asked.

“Bad. I could use a pain pill.”

“I'll get one and more ice,” she said. She stepped back out of view.

He heard her popping ice from the ice trays. Couldn't she bring him the pill first? Waves of pain encased his kneecap and moved up his thigh and down his calf.

She came back into the living room carrying an ice bag, a glass of water, and a pill bottle.After handing him the water, she dug out a pill. He popped it in his mouth and chased it down with a gulp of water. “I should have gotten it myself,” he grumbled. “I needed the pill more than the ice.” Caesar licked his hand.

“My,my, aren't we in a lovely mood?” She positioned the ice pack on his knee. “The ice will help the pain faster than the pill.The meds will take at least half an hour to work.”

He shifted his leg on the footrest. “Sorry, I'm a bear, and I know it.” He gestured to the chair opposite him. “Sit down. I want to talk to you.”

She tipped her chin up in a challenge. “I want to talk to you too.”

He glared back. In his mood, he could stare down a grizzly. “We need to settle who's in charge of the kids.”

She eased into the chair and folded her arms across her stomach. “I distinctly remember being hired for that position. And I was just promoted to be their mother.”

He muted the TV. “I'm still their dad. If I want them to go to bed, they go to bed.”