Читать книгу Colton's Surprise Heir - Addison Fox - Страница 10

Chapter 3

Ethan shoved his feet back into his work boots, his conversation with Lizzie louder than crashing cymbals in his head.

A stalker had threatened her. The police were about as helpful as they usually were. And he was going to be a father.

“It’s certainly been a hell of a morning, Colton.”

He finished tying off his laces and got to his feet, embarrassed to be caught talking to himself when he saw Lizzie standing at the entry to the kitchen. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry.”

“For speaking the truth? I can hardly blame you for that, Ethan.”

“I don’t usually do that.” He wasn’t crazy, and he hated anything that might make him appear as if he was.

“I talk to myself all the time. Most of the time I’m better company than the majority of people I know.”

Ethan couldn’t quite resist her wry grin and once again was struck by how enticing she was. Sunlight spilled through the mudroom, highlighting her features. She was too tall to be considered delicate, yet there was something ethereal about her. As if she were made of spun sugar and would float away at the slightest touch.

Since he already knew she tasted better than an entire bag of cotton candy, he shook off the fanciful notion and pointed toward the back door. “I need to go check on Dream.”

“Your horse? Joyce mentioned she was having some issues when she let me in.”

The reminder that his foreman’s wife had already met Lizzie—and no doubt hadn’t missed the pregnancy bump—only made what they’d shared that much more real. Joyce wasn’t a gossip, but she would be beside herself at the news there was a baby on the way.

“She had a rough night, but the vet thinks she’s back on track.”

“May I go with you? To see her?”

He’d been raised with six siblings, none of whom loved animals with quite the same bone-deep affection he had. On the rare occasions they got together, his siblings were forever teasing him about his preference for a barn instead of a party.

“You really want to?”

“Oh, yes.” Color ran high on her cheeks, and her enthusiasm was contagious.

“Bundle up. The barn is cold.”

She slipped into a large puffy coat and Ethan watched, fascinated, as the material stretched across her stomach. He didn’t want to be caught staring, but he couldn’t quite hide the continued mix of shock and satisfaction that gripped him. That bump was his child, warm and safe, protected by Lizzie’s body.

Since that thought quickly led to how the child had got there, he pushed aside the primitive thoughts and gestured her out the door.

“Winter’s been colder than usual.” Several puffs of breath punctuated her comment.

“It’s always a crapshoot in this part of the state, but we’ve definitely got our fair share. Reports keep saying we’re due for at least two more storms before the month’s out.” Ethan took her arm to help her over the dented dirt path that led to the barn and made a mental note to fill in several of the larger divots.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, their breathing the only sound between them. Ethan opened the door of the barn and gestured her through, then followed her down the long corridor that held stalls branching off on both sides.

From behind he couldn’t see any difference in her shape, and a strange—and altogether unexpected—thought popped into his head. His sister Annabel had mentioned a friend who “carried high” and claimed it was a boy.

Was Lizzie carrying his son?

Ethan had always wondered at the people who seemed desperate to have one sex over the other. Wasn’t a healthy child the goal?

But the prospect—old wives’ tale or not—that the child might be a boy struck with a hard slap. Boys grew into men. And just like that, images of his father and all the man had been capable of rooted him to the ground as if he were wearing cement shoes.

It wasn’t possible, was it? The idea he’d pass his father’s blood on to a child had always filled him with fear. But now.

Now that there was a real baby...

“What is it?”

Ethan hadn’t even realized he’d stopped until Lizzie turned around and waved him forward. “Nothing.”

“You sure? You look like you’ve seen a cross between the ghost of Christmas past and the Headless Horseman.”

Her tease was light and airy, but the concern underneath the words was hard to miss. “I’m good.”

Ethan flung off whatever had momentarily gripped him. He needed to deal in facts. And in reality. He was going to be a father, and now that he knew that, he’d do whatever it took to care for his child. To see that he or she grew into a healthy, well-adjusted adult. He’d give everything he possessed to make that a reality.

He stalked the rest of the way to Dream’s stall, pleased to see his filly’s eyes bright and devoid of pain. “Hello, beautiful girl.”

Dream nuzzled his hand, her soft movements full of the trusting bond they shared. Ethan spent several long minutes stroking the horse’s neck before turning toward Lizzie. “This is Dream.”

“She’s gorgeous.”

Lizzie stepped up, her hand already extended before Ethan stilled the movement. “Why don’t you sweeten the deal a bit?”

He dug an ever-present sugar cube from his coat pocket and handed it over. “It’s always nice to bring a gift for a brand-new introduction.”

Something warm raced up his arm as their fingers touched, the simple gesture of handing over the sugar cube suddenly fraught with electricity and meaning. Her green siren’s eyes widened before something needy and deeply primitive flashed there.

Attraction. Want. Desire.

The force of it nearly took him to his knees, and he ran his index finger over her open palm, the flesh soft and pliant.

“Thanks for the sugar.” Her gaze dropped to where their hands were still tentatively joined, and he sensed the deepest regret when she pulled her palm away. “I hope she likes me.”

He couldn’t quite find his voice, the thick croak when he did finally speak gruff and hoarse. “She’ll like you fine.”

“We’ll see.” Without hesitation, Lizzie stuck her hand out, her reach steady. “Hello again, sweet girl. How are you?”

The sugar cube vanished in an instant, but it was enough to break the ice. Dream lightly pressed her nose to Lizzie’s palm before bending her head slightly. They spent several moments like that, Lizzie running her hands over Dream’s nose, cheeks and neck and Dream accepting the simple gestures of affection.

Ethan stood back to give them a moment, struck by the odd awareness they were both pregnant. He knew it wasn’t the same—a woman and a horse—yet he couldn’t deny there was something both deeply present and mysteriously ancient about their mutual situation.

Lizzie turned from her ministrations, her hand still lingering on the mane of her new friend. “What was wrong this morning? She seems absolutely fine. She’s such a sweet thing.”

“Her foal needed to be turned around.”

“She’s pregnant?”

“Yep. If things stay on track, we’ll have a new foal next month.”

* * *

Lizzie wasn’t sure why the fact Ethan had spent the night in the barn with a pregnant horse struck her with such force, but the symbolism lanced through her with all the finesse of a battering ram.

A sign.

She couldn’t deny the sweet joy and relief that swept through her at the silly acknowledgment.

Although she considered herself far too practical to engage in things beyond her control, she’d spent her life paying attention to the small signs that seemed like a direction, pointing the way. A small patch of pink tulips that bloomed the day she received her college acceptance letter. The same colored blooms planted around the entrance to her office the day she interviewed for her job.

Those and so many others made up a series of memories that told her she was pushing in the proper direction.

Finding out Ethan Colton’s prize horse was pregnant, too, felt like that patch of tulips.

Important.

The hum of voices echoed from the far end of the barn. Lizzie had nearly turned, ready to let Ethan know she’d leave him to his work for a while, when a comment by one of his ranch hands had her going still.

“They say it’s another serial killer, right here in Blackthorn County. Being steered from prison by Matthew Colton.”

“No way, Gus. Colton’s locked up good and tight. It’s a copycat out for attention.”

The two men came to a halt when they realized there were others in the barn, and both quickly doffed their hats. “Good morning, ma’am. Mr. Colton.”

Ethan had gone so still he could have been carved in glass, and Lizzie didn’t even realize she’d been holding her breath until he spoke.

“Morning, Gus. Trey. Bill will be in a bit late. We had some midnight excitement with Dream here.”

She waited while Ethan talked to his men, their attention focused on the list of tasks as he described them. Both nodded their heads and seemed eager to get to work.

Lizzie waited until the men went off to their tasks before turning toward Ethan. She wanted to cringe at her overly bright voice but pressed on. “Why don’t I let you get back to things? It sounds like a busy morning. I can take care of our breakfast dishes and get out of your hair for a bit.”

“You’re not in my hair.” He tugged at a few strands of his short sandy-brown hair. “See. Empty.”

“Ethan—”

It was a silly joke, and she almost laughed, solely to keep that delicate balance of normal, when he moved up into her space, a short curse spilling from his lips. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“I’m not. I read the paper. Watch the news. I know what’s been going on in Blackthorn County.”

And she did know. A series of copycat killings were happening in their backyard, all of them leaving the victims with the distinctive red bull’s-eye that had been Matthew Colton’s trademark.

The Alphabet Killer, as the press had dubbed the perpetrator, was increasingly gaining national coverage. With both the bull’s-eye marking and a penchant for killing women in alphabetical order, the murderer’s notoriety was building. The murders had been all her coworkers could talk about, and now that the killer was up to D, it was all the nation could talk about, too.

“My father is in prison. He’s not making an outreach to anyone. He can’t be behind this again. We’ve all made sure of that.”

His use of the word again tore at something deep within her, but she kept her attention firm. Unyielding. His younger sister, Josie, had been her best friend, and after their initial days getting to know each other, they’d become confidantes.

She could still remember Josie’s frustration when talking about her father.

People look at you with such pity, as if they can somehow wish it all away. It’s like if they don’t mention him or all he’s done, he’s not some deranged psychotic killer.

But he is.

“People do some terrible things for attention. There are those who look to convicted criminals as inspiration.”

“My father’s a monster.”

“Yet to some, he’s a hero.”

Although she was aware of the crimes, the story had taken a backseat to her own problems. Now that she was here, Lizzie finally understood the problem wasn’t so distant to Ethan.

“Your brother Sam’s a cop, right? What does he think about it?”

Ethan glanced over his shoulder in the direction of his stable hands before taking her arm once more. “Let’s go back in the house.”

“Of course.”

In a matter of minutes, she was once again seated on his couch, a fire blazing to chase away the cold. Ethan sat beside her, but even with the fire so close, it couldn’t chase away the cold shadow that seemed to hover around him.

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Let me rephrase that. Why don’t you tell me what you know. What does Sam think about a copycat killer on the loose?”

Based on his reticence to discuss the murders, Lizzie braced herself for a cold, clinical retelling of whatever information he had.

The fierce grip on her hands told an entirely different tale.

“Sam thinks—” Ethan broke off on a hard shudder before shifting gears. “Lizzie. Don’t you see? That’s what lives inside me. What now lives inside our child. I’ve passed it on to an innocent.”

His gaze dropped to her stomach, and she’d have had to be blind to miss the fierce protection she saw in the hazel depths. Whatever he believed, she knew she had to convince him otherwise. “It’s not genetics, Ethan. It’s a sick and twisted reaction to life. To living. You’re not your father, and our child won’t be, either.”

“How can you say that?”

“I know it. To the very depths of my soul, I know.”

Ethan dropped the hold on her hands and leaped up as if singed. He paced the length of the room, his strides long. Powerful. “He’s my father. And he went on a killing spree twenty years ago to avenge his issues with his brother. His own damn flesh and blood. How can you say that’s not personal? That it’s not based on something sick and twisted inside him?”

While she knew he’d never physically hurt her, Lizzie was shocked at the grief that burrowed into the deepest part of her. Staring into Ethan Colton’s eyes, she saw a layer of pain and heartbreak and sheer agony she could never have imagined.

She knew the story of his father. You’d be hard-pressed to find a soul in the entire state of Texas who didn’t. Matthew Colton had hated his older brother, Big J, and all the man’s wealth and influence. In some sick, twisted need for retribution, he had murdered a series of men who all looked like his brother, leaving each and every one with a bull’s-eye on his forehead, drawn with a thick red marker.

Despite the heinous crimes, she’d never believed he’d passed that on. She’d known Matthew’s children from a young age. They were good, decent individuals. She knew it so many years ago and she knew it now. All seven siblings had gone on to rise above their father’s legacy, the equivalent of a family of phoenixes. Law enforcement. Ranching. Even Josie, who had disappeared, had been a dear, dear friend to her.

Ethan might struggle with lingering fear over his father’s actions, but she didn’t.

Nor had she considered—for even the briefest of moments—her child might be tainted by that. “We make our own choices in life, for good or for bad. You and I are living proof of that.”

“I’m the child of a bad person. A killer, Lizzie. You can’t compare that to a couple of people who felt they couldn’t handle a kid.”

The truth she’d spent her life dealing with stung and he must have seen something on her face.

“I’m sorry.” The fierce light that filled his eyes at the mention of his father faded, the apology more than evident in his narrowed gaze. “That was clumsy of me.”

“No, it’s honest. There’s a difference.” And regardless of their reason, in the end her parents’ actions were just as he said. People who’d been unable to care for a child.

Pushing it aside, Lizzie pressed on. But oh, how did she reach him? For the first time, the beliefs she’d carried all the way to his front door wavered before her eyes. How did she make him understand this?

Standing, she moved to stand toe to toe. She reached for him, gripping the solid length of his forearm, willing the power of touch to maybe break through his resistance.

“Don’t you see? Even with how we were raised, we’re both good, honest, decent human beings. People who know right from wrong. People who believe the world can be a better place. Our child will have genetics, yes. But he or she will also have love. And a mother and father to teach right and wrong.”

“How can you be so naive?”

She dropped his arm and stepped back. The heat of his words branded her, but it was the disillusionment that painted his gaze in a dim wash of gray that had something sinking to the very bottom of her stomach.

“It’s hardly naive to believe in my future. To believe in my child’s future.”

The briefest acknowledgment flitted through his gaze before those hazel depths went flat once more. “I’ve done everything right. You’ve done everything right. Yet here we are, smack in the middle of it happening all over again. The threatening notes. The baby rattle. Even another serial killer on the loose.”

Lizzie dropped down onto the couch again, his words pinging through her mind with all the power of a hailstorm.

Maybe she had been naive. Worse, she’d finally allowed herself to hope. To believe she had a bright future ahead.

And instead, she had to face the reality. She was about to bring a child into a world that was dark and bleak and very, very cold.