Читать книгу Cornered At Christmas - Barb Han - Страница 13

The pitch-black night sky was a dark canopy overhead. Thick clouds smothered the moon, blocking out any possibility of light. Rain came down in sheets. The conditions were a problem. There’d be tracks. Kimberly couldn’t afford to leave a trail or any sign she’d been there.

If the storm continued, there’d be no issue. Flash floods were common in this area of Texas and could wash away her hiking-boot prints. If the weather dried up, anyone could follow her based on the imprints she made.

She stepped lightly, careful to weave through the low-hanging branches rather than break them—again another way to track her movements. Being on the run had taught her to leave the smallest footprint possible. Leave a trace and someone would find her—the creeps following her had already proven that more than once. She’d racked her brain, thinking how they could’ve picked up her trail leading to the pediatrician’s office earlier.

Kimberly cursed under her breath as tears threatened. How could she have been so careless? So stupid?

Guilt nearly impaled her.

She couldn’t sit by and watch the only people she loved get hurt because of her. She had to make this right. She prayed that she could find the right words to convince Mitch to leave with the babies and disappear.

Seeing her alive would shock her husband. And he would hate her for what she’d done to him, to their family. Not that she could blame him. Sharp stabs of pain spiked through her, because she would feel the same way if the situation was reversed.

That wouldn’t stop—couldn’t stop—her from doing what she needed to do.

Being on the ranch brought back other memories. Memories that punched her in the stomach. Memories of being under this same sky on a starlit evening with Mitch’s arms around her, feeling like she could slay her fears and stay right there for the rest of her life. Then there were all of those Sunday-morning breakfasts in bed after passionate nights.

They’d when she’d rented a cabin on Lake Orion. On her weekly trip into town for supplies was when she’d first seen him. She’d been at the lake for a couple of days already and had worn her hair down around her face, a light cotton T-shirt and a simple pair of jeans with tennis shoes.

Mitch had come up behind her while she stood in line with her small cart filled with everything she’d need for two weeks for a single person. He didn’t speak to her right away, but she turned to look at him the minute she felt the strong male presence. It seemed like every single woman in the place came over to say hello while he stood in line behind Kimberly. Mitch was handsome—no question about that—but he also had a sexual appeal that made women blush when they spoke to him. The pitch in their voices raised and it was so easy to tell they were flirting.

Kimberly thought her eyes would roll into the back of her head when one of the women nearly knocked over the media stand while she complimented his boots. There’d been so much bemusement in his voice—a deep voice that trailed down the sensitive skin of her neck and wrapped around her—when he thanked the woman that Kimberly had almost laughed out loud. The ladies had been so sickeningly sweet that Kimberly wanted to throw up.

Her reaction must’ve been written all over her face when she turned to get another look at the all-male presence stirring up all of the commotion behind her. Yeah, she’d been rubbernecking but she couldn’t help herself. She had only a couple of weeks to be in town and she needed to see what all the fuss was about.

The second she turned and got a good look, she realized her mistake. Her cheeks flamed, her throat dried and a thousand birds fluttered inside her chest, leaving her to wonder, Who is this man?

Her hand fell slack and she dropped her wallet, spilling change all over his boots, which actually were nice. If embarrassment could kill a person, she would’ve dropped dead on the spot. Lucky for her, it couldn’t. And the tall, muscled cowboy had dropped down to help her collect her things.

He’d been gracious and generous and all of the things she figured a cowboy code would require. But when his fingers grazed her palm as he handed over her quarters and pennies, pure electricity shot through her. Her body hummed and based on the look in his steel-gray eyes when their gazes connected, he felt the current every bit as much.

After introducing himself, he’d asked if she would have dinner with him that night.

It took a few seconds for logic to kick in and for her to remember how dangerous that would be for both of them, but it did and she refused—albeit without conviction. She thanked him for helping her, turned and was grateful she was next in line. The cashier acknowledged her with a smile as she busied herself placing her items on the motorized belt. Inside, she concentrated on trying to breathe as the cashier ran her items across the scanner.

Kimberly’s pulse raced and all she could think about was getting out of there and back to the privacy of the cabin on the lake. She fumbled for the right dollar amount. Using cash was another way to stay off the grid.

The handsome cowboy had followed her to the parking lot as she loaded groceries into the plastic container she’d fixed onto the back of the dirt bike she’d bought from a seventeen-year-old boy who went by the name Smash. Based on the condition of the dirt bike, he’d earned that nickname, but she didn’t care. All she’d needed was reliable transportation to get her to and from the store and something she could use for a quick escape if the need arose.

Experience had taught her to be prepared for anything and especially the pair of creeps who always seemed to be one step behind.

“You sure about dinner?” he’d asked with the kind of smile that made women go weak at the knees as he held out a fistful of coins. She knew for sure because her legs almost gave.

It had most likely been that moment of hesitation—that too-quick smile—that had him showing up two days after she’d refused him in the lot.

The rain had been coming down in sheets on that day, too.

“What are you doing here?” she’d asked as she opened the door to find him standing on her porch, waterlogged and even more handsome than she remembered.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you for two days,” he’d said, and her heart pounded so hard against her ribs, she thought they might crack. There he stood, with rain trailing down the brim of his gray Stetson. He wore a black V-neck T-shirt that, soaked with rain, outlined every one of his mass of muscles. “Tell me to leave and I will. I’ll leave you alone. You have my word. Agree to have dinner with me and we can go anywhere you like.”

As he stood there, with rain dripping from his tall, muscled physique, all of her willpower—and good sense—took a hike.

“Only if we stay here,” she’d said. “We have to stay inside.”

His face had broken into a wide smile—the same one that had seduced her willingly by the third night. And then less than two months later he’d proposed.

Tears sprang to her eyes at the memories. Walking away from Mitch Kent had been one of the most difficult things she’d ever done.

And setting foot in the house they’d once shared was going to be right up there.

MITCH RUBBED BLURRY eyes as he heard a noise come from another room for the second time. He glanced at the clock as he muttered a curse. The twins shouldn’t be up for another few hours.

In a past life, he would’ve slept right through the small creak. Having babies had trained him to jump at the first noise. If he entered the room fast enough, sometimes he could solve the problem before the other woke up. Let it go even for a few seconds, and he’d be dealing with two fussy babies and not enough arms to hold them both. Joyce had volunteered to move into the guest room half a dozen times, but Mitch had refused every request. Her heart was in the right place; she wanted to make his life easier. But Kimberly wouldn’t have wanted it that way. She might’ve agreed to receiving Joyce’s help during the day, but she wouldn’t want another person taking care of their babies overnight.

Another creak sounded and he was awake enough to hear it clearly now.

He threw off the covers and slid into the jeans on the chair next to his bed. This noise in the next room had nothing to do with the twins.

Was someone inside his house?

His hardwood floors creaked in exactly three places in the hallway. The first two had already made noise.

And now came the third. His adrenaline surged, flooding his body with heat.

Someone was walking toward his bedroom.

The twins’ room was across the hall and a fleeting thought struck that someone was coming for them. But who could that be? And how in the hell did the person get past ranch security?

It took a minute for that to sink in.

Another thought struck that it could be one of his family members, but that couldn’t be right, either. His brothers and sister would’ve called if there’d been an emergency. There was no way his cousins, Zach and Amy, would show in the middle of the night without calling. Those would be the only people who could get past security.

Mitch double-checked his cell in case he’d silenced his phone instead of switching it to vibrate. He thought about the heifer, and for a split second he thought the butchering might’ve been a warning.

The doorknob turned, so he jumped into action. Whoever thought they were going to get the best of him had another thing coming.

In two seconds he stood next to the door. It opened toward him, so it would shield him as the intruder stepped inside.

This probably wasn’t the time to realize his shotgun was locked in a gun cabinet, a precaution he took for the sake of his children. Even if he could get to it, it wouldn’t do any good. The shells were locked in a drawer.

As the door eased open, Mitch held his breath. He had his physical size, athletic conditioning and the element of surprise on his side, and that was about it. He had no idea what could be pushing through on the other side of that door.

In that moment he regretted not arming the alarm. He’d put one in, based on his wife’s insistence, but never used it now that she was gone.

Another few seconds and he’d be ready to grab whoever crossed that threshold. And he hoped like hell it was only one person.

Mitch flexed and released his fingers. He was ready.

A smallish—at least in comparison to his size—figure slipped inside. He took a step toward the intruder and grabbed whatever he could, wrapping his hands around the person’s upper arms. The intruder seemed familiar but he dismissed the thought.

Until the person kicked where no man wanted a foot and he gulped for air. The intruder put their hands on top of his and then dropped to the floor, breaking his grip. This person had skills.

“Stop it and I won’t hurt you,” he warned through sharp intakes of air. He was still trying to regain his footing after taking a hit to the groin.

Before the intruder could scoot away completely, he had a fistful of shirt material. He took another knee in the same spot, ignoring the pain shooting up his abdomen and causing his gut to clench.

Fists flew at him until he wrangled the stranger’s arms under control, but in pulling him or her close he ushered in a scent—lilies—and froze.

The intruder scooted out from underneath him.

“Whatever you do, don’t turn on the light,” the familiar voice warned through gasps.

“Who are you?” he asked but he already knew the answer—an answer that was a throat punch.

“It’s me. Kimberly.”