Texas Heroes: Volume 1 (50 page)

If someone had slammed a two-by-four against his head, Mitch couldn’t feel more disoriented.

Perrie gasped and reached for her son. “Sweetie, don’t say that. You can’t just ask Mitch to be your father.”

“Why not?”

Why not, indeed?
Mitch’s mind whirled. The boy’s words ricocheted around in his head, rocketing past the adrenaline rush and all the emotions he’d felt when he’d thought the boy was—

Mitch didn’t know what to say. Or feel.
Davey’s dad
. He closed his eyes. Oh, God. How fine that would be.

If only Davey’s mother wanted him, too.

Perrie watched him struggle. When he didn’t answer Davey, a cold ball lodged in her chest.

She took refuge in action. “Let’s get you back to the cabin. We—that is, I—” Her eyes stung.

Then she got mad. “You scared us to death, young man,” she scolded. “Don’t you ever—” Her voice broke, and she turned away.

“You promised me you wouldn’t wander off by yourself,” Mitch reminded the boy. “If a man’s word is no good, then he can’t call himself a man.”

Davey’s lower lip trembled. “I didn’t mean to get lost.”

Mitch didn’t relent. “You still left without telling anyone where you were going.”

Her son’s voice grew smaller. “I’m sorry, Mitch.”

“Your mom is the one who deserves your apology. She takes good care of you, and this is a poor way to treat someone who loves you.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I just really, really didn’t want to leave Mitch. Do we still have to go?”

Her hand trembled as she reached out to stroke his head, wishing she could spare him. “Davey, we can’t just…” Her shoulders sagged. “There’s too much you don’t understand.”

“We can’t leave tonight, right?” His blue eyes filled with hope. “It’s almost dark.”

No, it would be foolish in the extreme. But Mitch’s silence shouted out how much he wished for them to be gone. She’d dared to hope, for that shining moment when he’d held them both so close, that he wanted…more.

His face impassive, Mitch leaned down and picked up Davey. “Give me your hand.”

Without hesitation, Davey stretched out his fingers, the trust in his eyes quick and easily given. How much leaving Mitch would hurt her child.

Mitch placed Davey’s bear in his palm.

“You found my bear!” Davey crowed. Then he frowned faintly. “He’s kinda dirty. Is he ruined?”

“Nah,” Mitch answered. “It gives him character.”

“What’s character, Mom?”

“I…” She looked at Mitch, but his gaze was shuttered. She had no idea what he was thinking. And she was so drained. “Not now, sweetheart.” She turned, desperate to get away.

With Davey perched on one arm, Mitch wrapped the other around her stiff shoulders. In some ways it was more cruel than anything he’d ever done, but she couldn’t think about it, not now. She had to stay busy, try not to think.

They would head back to the cabin, then get warm and eat something, put Davey to bed.

And in the morning, it would all be over.

Chapter Twelve

M
itch walked back toward the fireplace from the bedroom, Davey’s whispered words echoing in his head.

I love you, Mitch
.

How long since he’d heard those words from another living being?

He knew, down to the minute.

The night his mother died. In his arms. Because of him.

A lifetime had passed since that night. Years filled first with rage, with blind, stumbling steps to find some way to kill the pain.

Then Cy had come along and pulled him up by the scruff of his neck, a surly old man who’d given Mitch the closest thing he’d had to affection since he’d left Morning Star.

He’d told himself that he’d found the answer, that not feeling was the key. Years had passed, years in which Mitch’s detachment grew by the day, until he’d perfected a shell so thick it couldn’t be pierced.

Until he’d met a blue-eyed angel…and held her child in his arms. And his shell had developed cracks.

He didn’t know how they’d slipped inside, only that they had. And that it hurt like hell to feel again.

Now Perrie wanted to leave, her lies intact. Just walk away as though he could simply forget them. As though last night had never happened.

Maybe for her, it had been nothing. But not for him.

He shouldn’t care—after all, it was what he’d wanted since the day they’d met, for her to get out of his life, to let him go back to the solitude that was what he knew best.

But she would tell him what he needed to know first. And then he would decide—

What? He had no claim on them, wanted none.

He heard her last goodnight to Davey, then the soft click as she closed the bedroom door.

And then he felt her presence like the rays of the rising sun.

Mitch turned, and Perrie resisted the urge to run.

The air between them thickened, a broth boiling over with too much unsaid, too little explained. Her nerves still vibrated with the remnants of terror that Simon had somehow found Davey. She had seen straight into the heart of her inability to truly protect her son. The last two days had provided ample proof of what Simon had always said, that she was only a pretty ornament, good for little else.

Deep within her, resentment raged. She kicked at Fate’s shins, fought battles with her fears.

I am not useless. I will not give in. Simon is wrong, and I will defeat him
.

But between every word flashed images that branded her a fool. Davey on the ledge, inches from death. Davey lost in a frozen wilderness.

Mitch, strong and fierce, protecting them at every turn.

He was so powerful.

She was so afraid.

The knowledge made her furious, as much at him as at herself. He’d made his wishes clear by his silence as much as his words. He wanted to be alone. Perrie picked up a toy and stared blindly at the suitcase she’d left open.

“What did Simon do to you?”

Mitch’s question zeroed in too close. “Nothing,” she retorted, turning to pack.

He crossed the floor in two long strides, whirling her to face him. “This stops now, Perrie. I’ve listened to all the lies I’m going to tolerate from you.”

She saw red. “You don’t have to tolerate anything. I’m leaving, first thing in the morning. We won’t be your concern anymore.”

His nostrils flared; his gaze narrowed. “Someone needs to be concerned about you. You’re acting like an irresponsible fool.”

Perrie shoved away from him, suddenly unable to breathe in the swirl of emotions clogging the air. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then tell me. Why are you running? What has he done to you? Why are you afraid?”

Mitch watched the war rage inside her, watched her defenses go up, her arms crossing over her chest, hugging her damn secrets closer than ever. He wanted to grab her, to shake loose the truth that stood between them.

He wanted to hold her, to tell her that he would protect her forever. That he’d be the prince who would ride to her rescue.

But he couldn’t do that. He didn’t know the first thing about love. He was alone, and that was how it had to be. Too many people he loved had suffered before. He didn’t want to feel anything, damn it. Why wouldn’t she leave him in peace?

Why couldn’t he forget? Just let them go?

He couldn’t need her. Couldn’t let her widen the cracks.

But it was too late. She already had.

The tempest inside him boiled higher. Mitch had to get out of here before he lost the last hope of control. Outside. They needed more wood.

Whirling away, he grabbed for his coat, and a white scrap fell out of his pocket.

The letter. Perrie’s letter.

He leaned down and picked it off the floor, holding it out to her. “Here—this came for you.”

Perrie shook her head and looked at it like it was poison. “For me?”

“Yeah—came general delivery. I stuck it in my pocket and forgot about it when Davey—” He shoved it at her again.

For the longest time, she stood there, emotions chasing across her face. Finally, she reached out slowly and took it. She didn’t open it, simply stared at the writing on the front.

Then, as if she was waking from a dream, she slit it open, pulled out the paper inside and read.

And went pale as a ghost, swaying on her feet.

Mitch crossed to her quickly. “What is it?”

Perrie shook her head and stepped away, staring into the fire, the letter dangling from her hand.

“What’s wrong? Damn it, Perrie, answer me.”

Mutely, she handed him the letter. Mitch took it and scanned the contents quickly.

Perrie—

Your letter worked. Mr. Matheson has been indicted. The district attorney needs to talk to you to make their case. It’s your chance to put him away for a good long time. If you don’t, he’ll walk and you’ll never be free of him.

Come back to Boston and finish this.

Your friend,

Elias

“Who’s Elias?” he asked.

“My ex-husband’s gardener.”

“What does he mean, your letter worked? What’s the indictment about?”

Perrie couldn’t face him, her mind locking down.
Go back to Boston. Into the serpent’s den
.

She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t take Davey back into Simon’s reach.

But if she didn’t, she’d never be free.

“Come on, Perrie, trust me.”

Oh, how she wanted to do that, wanted his help in sorting out what she should do. Her thoughts tumbled over one another as she searched for an answer.

“Simon—” She choked on her explanation. How could Mitch possibly understand what a fool she’d been? How weak not to break away years before?

You can break away now, Perrie. Take one step and tell Mitch
.

But he would despise her for being a coward. Such a strong man could never understand.

She wanted to tell him—badly. But how could she drag him into this?

“I have to leave, Mitch.”

“To testify?”

“I can’t.” Her chest felt tight. “I—”

“Why not?”

She looked up at him, whispering her disgrace. “I’m afraid to go back.”

“Why? What’s he done?”

“What hasn’t he done?” She laughed bitterly. “My ex-husband is a very rich man, but his family’s wealth was never enough. He wanted more. He’s laundered money for drug dealers, he’s been involved in gambling—I don’t know all that he’s done.”

She whirled. She couldn’t face him. “Except that when I first tried to break out of the prison he’d built around me, the bodyguard who helped me mysteriously turned up dead. I can’t prove that he murdered Billy, but I know he did.”

“Prison?” His eyes went dark and angry. “What do you mean?”

Perrie looked at the floor. “I’m ashamed to tell you.”

“Why should you be ashamed? You were the victim.”

Her head jerked up. “I was weak. So blinded by the glamorous lifestyle he promised that I didn’t see until it was too late that I was a thing to him, another pretty object to be admired when he wanted and put on the shelf in between—and never, ever to be shared with anyone else.”

“You were young. You didn’t know.”

She laughed and began to pace. “But I didn’t stay young. I just stayed scared. He would make me—” The words clogged her throat. “He liked to play these awful games in the bedroom…”

Mitch grasped her arm, pulling her into his hard chest. “You don’t have to tell me.” One big hand stroked her hair.

Perrie leaned into the safety of his arms. “Until last night,” she whispered. “I never knew—I’ve never experienced what you made me feel.”

Mitch tightened his arms around her, her pain touching him as if it were his own. Her story explained a lot of things. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Her head jerked back, her eyes sparking, filling with angry tears. “I tried to escape, but he found me and brought me back.” Her gaze dropped. “He beat me and raped me, locked me up tighter than ever. And then Davey was born and—”

Dear God. Davey was the result of the rape. “It doesn’t matter. Davey’s nothing like him. You’ve done a great job with him.”

“I brought a child into that life!”

“You had no choice. And you obviously protected him. There’s not a thing wrong with him.”