“With you and the babies safe, I’ll take off at first light,” Kimberly said, hoping he would accept that on the surface, but knowing deep down that the chances were slim.
“What would that accomplish exactly?” His steel-eyed stare was as blunt as his words.
“All I needed to know is that you guys were out of danger,” she said with an apologetic shrug. “You said it clearly—I’m the problem.”
“So, what just happened?” He issued a grunt. “That was your entire plan?”
She searched the room, wishing for answers, hoping they were written on a wall, while feeling the intense heat of his glare. “Um, I don’t have one. I think that’s pretty obvious.”
“I figured that out the minute you showed up, looking desperate,” he commented before taking another sip of coffee.
“I reacted to putting you and the babies in danger. None of this was supposed to happen.” Her voice climbed along with her frustration levels.
Mitch didn’t immediately answer. His gaze dropped to her hands and she realized she was tightly gripping the coffee mug. She also noticed that he checked her wedding finger for a band. She forced her hand to relax by willpower and flexed the fingers of her free hand a few times. There wasn’t much she could do about not wearing her ring on her finger anymore. She couldn’t chance it.
He twisted his around on his finger. She couldn’t blame him if he regretted still wearing it no matter how much those thoughts burned a hole in her chest.
“Consider me your shadow until we put this whole situation to rest,” he continued after a thoughtful pause. His stare felt like a dare to argue.
“What would that accomplish? And what changed your mind?” She balked. He seemed determined to get away from her hours ago. “You made your point clear that you want nothing to do with me.”
Before she could continue her argument, he threw his hands up in the surrender position.
“Hear me out,” he started and his tone had softened a notch. Nothing in her wanted to listen. His earlier comments still stung. “Until this is over for you, it sounds like it could come back on me and the kids.”
She bit her lip to keep from interrupting him, because what he was saying was true. She wanted to argue, to fight his point, but dammit she couldn’t. The reminder that she was putting her family in harm’s way felt like pinchers latched onto her heart.
“There’s no way I’ll sleep at night knowing there could be a random threat out there that could pop up at any time for the twins. You already know that I work the ranch and can’t be around the kids 24/7 to protect them. Plus I won’t put Joyce is harm’s way by leaving them with her even if I could tell her what’s up, which I doubt you’ll agree to.”
Frustration nipped at Kimberly as she sat there, practically biting her tongue. She trusted Joyce with her kids, but all of their lives was a different story. Joyce was the most well-meaning person on the planet, but one slip and it could all be over.
“I can’t argue your points.” Even though she wanted to. It was unthinkable that she had caused so much pain to the person she cared most about. To that end, she wanted everyone to be safe and this whole nightmare to end. Two and a half years. Thirty long months on the run, never feeling settled or like she belonged. Meeting Mitch had changed that last part, but she’d always known it was only a matter of time until she’d have to leave him. Even then a dark cloud had hovered over their happiness. “What do you suggest?”
“We can’t stay on the run with the babies, so I need to figure out where they can go that won’t put anyone else at risk while keeping them safe.” Mitch’s low timbre washed over her, sending an inappropriate shiver racing up her arms, toward her heart.
“When you put it like that, it sounds impossible,” she said in a low voice before taking another sip of coffee. Coffee might not save the world but at least it helped her think clearly. The thought of leaving her babies again nearly hollowed out her chest.
“I’d like to figure out a solution that doesn’t disrupt their lives more than necessary,” he continued.
“Would Joyce be able to go somewhere with them? Put them under lock and key?” she asked.
“My great-grandmother was from Gunner’s Pass, a small town in Colorado. I could have Joyce and the twins brought there under tight security. I still have relatives in the area, so no one would ask questions if they showed up out of the blue,” he said.
“Do you know how hard it is to stay completely off the grid nowadays? You’d have to make sure no one—and I mean no one—posts a picture of them online,” she stated, feeling heat crawl up her neck at the thought of being separated from her babies once again. Heat that came with knowing that Mitch was on the right track and hating the idea at the same time. “Is that even possible in this day and age?” Her voice was rising, even though she tried to keep her temper and her panic levels in check. She especially didn’t want to wake the babies sleeping in the next room. Although, a part of her wanted them awake and in her arms. She wanted nothing more than to hold them, feed them, be with them. Be their mother. None of that was realistic and she knew better than to wish for the impossible.
“We need to investigate what really happened to your father and why. We can’t do that with the babies around. I can’t protect them and you and track down the truth,” Mitch stated, his voice a study in calm confidence. His ability to stay cool in every conceivable situation had always been sexy to her, and it was even more so now.
Kimberly picked up her mug and gripped it with both hands. She thought long and hard about what Mitch was saying. She flipped over the options several times but there were very few. Counterarguments felt like a balloon deflating.
“You’re right,” she said after a long pause. “I can’t disagree with what you’re saying. The twins are in more danger when they’re with me.”
“With us,” he corrected.
The feeling of hope that enveloped her with the word us was false at best. Mitch was a good man and that’s the only reason he included himself. He was trying to make her feel better but she knew the truth. She was toxic to the people she loved, and they’d be safer without her.
“I like the idea of keeping the twins with Joyce for consistency as long as the three of them leave town and she has no idea I’m in the picture.” He wasn’t asking her permission, but she was grateful to be able to offer her opinion anyway. Chalk it up to cowboy code but Mitch was too much of a gentleman to cut her off. She could also see that he was an amazing father. “I’m also thinking that you’re right about getting them out of Texas and keeping them out.” It hurt to say that because Texas had been her sanctuary and she believed it was her children’s, too. “No one will look for them in Colorado. And especially since they must realize that I’d never go back to New Mexico or anywhere near it. I’d be recognized in my hometown immediately.”
“Sounds like we’re in agreement,” he said. “Colorado will work at least for a temporary residence. I’m planning to send top-notch security with them. It’s almost the holidays and tourists will be coming and going in the town of Gunner’s Pass, for skiing and the Christmas festivities. No one will suspect anything if the kids show up with their nanny, and no one will be able to trace them back to you. We’ll figure out a couple of security personnel who can pose as husband and wife and fit the bill as their parents.”
The thought of her children being “parented” by another couple sat like a lead fireball in her stomach. Thoughts of Mitch remarrying and giving the children another mother had shocked her out of many a night’s sleep. Again, she had no right to own any of those feelings. It was her fault Mitch and the kids were in danger. So she swallowed her pride and nodded. “That’s solid.”
Before she could say anything else, his stare centered on her eyes.
“Are both of your parents really dead?” he asked.
“To me? Yes,” she stated. He deserved to know the truth.
“Do you know where they are now?” He twisted his wedding ring around his finger again before picking up his black coffee and taking a sip.
She shrugged in answer, and when he shot her a frustrated look she added, “New Mexico, I guess.”
They sat in silence as he took another sip.
“If this is going to work, you have to be up front with me.” He took off his wedding ring and set it on the table.
She stared at it like it was a bomb about to detonate. Pain could cause that kind of explosion in her chest at any second at the gesture. “I am. The people who brought me into this world walked away from me and never looked back. The people I call my parents were my last foster family.”
“What about sisters or brothers?” he probed.
It was so difficult to talk about her past. “I had a sister when I was young. Lost track of her within a couple years of going into the system. I have no idea if there are others. I barely remember her.”
She swiped away a surprising tear, refusing to look at him.
“Her name was Rose,” she continued, not sure why she felt the need to keep talking. It had been so long since she’d been honest with anyone, with herself. “My real name is Lily Grable.”
If Mitch was shocked by the admission, he didn’t show it. And then it dawned on her that he would most likely suspect she’d given him a fake name. She’d had supporting documents to cover her tracks, too. Fake ID. Fake name. Fake life. With him, it had felt a little too real and a little too much like a fairy tale come true.
Betrayal scored stress lines across his forehead, resembling slash marks.
THE MORE MITCH knew about Kimb—correction, Lily—the better he’d be able to track down the person or persons targeting her. He was trying to get his arms around this new reality but at least this conversation was real. His life with her had been a sham, and that angered him beyond belief.
He stared at the gold band on the wooden table.
In order to help her, he had to distance himself from the pain of realizing he’d been a first-class idiot. He could look at this solely as helping someone who was lost. And the woman sitting across the table from him was the most lost person he’d ever met. Even her eyes had a lost quality to them.
It had attracted him to her in the beginning and he should’ve known that would come back to haunt him.
Now he wanted to punch himself for not seeing any of this coming. There’d been signs. Kimber—Lily had been the most private person he’d ever met. She’d been alone in the lake house and had seemed to want to keep it that way. Part of him could admit that he’d forced his way into her life. She’d been clear about wanting to be alone and he’d seen that as a challenge—a challenge she’d given him the green light to accept. A challenge he didn’t need to rush because he saw that she wanted to be together as much as he did. He’d planned on giving her time and space to realize it, too. But then for reasons he still couldn’t explain, he’d shown up at her cabin that rainy afternoon. She’d invited him to come inside her cabin and her life. The two had been inseparable after.
But still, there’d been signs.
A beautiful mystery woman staying alone in a lake house had been too much temptation. When she’d pushed him away—weak as her attempts might have been—he’d seen that as a challenge, too. He wouldn’t have forced himself on anyone. A good man wasn’t built that way and especially not a Kent. She’d given him enough go-ahead signs for him to realize she was into him.
And when she warned him that he’d regret it if he didn’t walk away before things got too complicated, he’d realized he was already in too deep. Mitch didn’t do “serious” with anyone. He took life seriously and his responsibilities at the ranch. Losing his father had intensified Mitch’s serious side. Or so he’d been told by his siblings.
He had a lot of responsibilities and he didn’t take the family business lightly.
Since rehashing the past was about as productive as chasing a ghost pepper with a shot of tequila, Mitch picked up his ring and pocketed it. He looked her square in the eye, ignoring the way his pulse raced every time. “Running away from a problem never made it better.”
“All I know is there are two creeps who’ve been following me around the country,” she admitted. “I’ve been shot at and nearly run off the road more times than I can count.”
It took a minute for the shock of those words to wear off. He really thought about what she was saying. Two men against her. Don’t get him wrong—she was feisty as all get out. But she was no match for men with guns. She also happened to be deathly afraid of them. She was smart and that’s most likely why she was still alive. What was he missing? He remembered the pair from yesterday morning. Yes, they’d been watching her. Following her. He’d suspected they were up to no good. But he didn’t see a weapon. Although, it was a crowded plaza. “These men—how far away from you have they been when they shot at you?”
“What do you mean...?” She paused and it looked like she was searching her memory. “Well, I guess they’ve mostly shot from a distance. No. Wait. They’ve been close range. There was this one time in Atlanta...” She froze like she’d just given away the combination to her vault. “I guess I’ve been lucky every time.”
He didn’t like the fact that she’d closed up. He liked the fact that she didn’t wear her wedding ring even less, but he was being sentimental. The marriage had been a fraud, a hiding place. Again, frustration galled him at being played like an idiot. He gave himself a mental slap. This wasn’t the time to dwell on his mistakes. “Does that seem odd to you?”
A delicate brow arched. “What do you mean?”
“Seems like they’d have to be awfully bad shots to miss you so much,” he continued.
“I always assumed they wanted me dead,” she admitted. Confusion drew her brows together. She wasn’t following.
“There’s a difference between shooting at someone and shooting to kill them. I’m guessing the men who were after your foster father would be decent shots. Even a bad shot wouldn’t miss every time. Probability kicks in at some point, saying they’d hit by accident if nothing else. Seems like the creeps following you knew what they were doing, considering they’ve found you every time. How many times have they shot at you?”
She sat there, completely still, with her gaze unfocused like she was searching inside herself for the answer.
And then light filled her eyes. “Dozens. And you’re right. They sure have missed a lot.”
The corner of her mouth quirked and he could tell she had an idea, a bad one at that. “Don’t even think about it, Kimb—Lily.”
“How do you know what’s going on in my mind?” she countered.
“There’s a certain twinkle you get in your eyes when an idea sparks. It’s like the first firefly of summer’s in there and it lights your face. And then your mouth does that thing.” He pointed to the corner of her lips. “In between a pout and a smirk. When it’s a bad idea that smirk is more of a frown.”
Without rationalizing his actions, he reached forward and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Mitch pulled back as if he’d touched a hot stove and mumbled a curse word. No way was he going there again.
“Lily, you’re not sacrificing yourself by turning yourself over to those creeps to keep me and the babies out of danger,” he ground out.
“I’m not Lily anymore. Call me Kimberly. And if they’re not trying to kill me, they must want me for something. I can find out what that is and maybe stop this whole—”
He waved her off. “I said no.”
She issued a grunt. “You’re not my boss and you don’t get to tell me what to do, Mitch.”
“No, but I’m still your husband and that should give me some right to talk you out of nonsense.”
Now she really did shoot him a loaded look.
Damn, he wasn’t trying to offend her.
“All I’m saying is that it’s too dangerous and spouses have a right to warn each other.” He intentionally softened his tone, unsure why he’d played the still-married card. They weren’t.
She gave him another look—one that said she’d made up her mind.
Rather than debate his actions, he stood and took a step toward her. She popped to her feet in the small kitchenette and backed up until her slender hip was against the counter. He noticed that she’d lost too much weight, even though he didn’t want to pay attention to those things about her. Things that made him have sympathy for her.
Sympathy or not, he couldn’t let her continue down the trail of putting herself more at risk. “And then what? You go in and actually get yourself killed? Have you lost your mind?”
“Am I crazy or stupid? Say what you mean, Mitch,” she said through clenched teeth.
“You really want me to speak my mind?” Heat ricocheted between them with their bodies this close. Sex had never been a problem. Neither had talking. Or at least that’s what he’d believed.
He touched her arm, trying not to notice the sensual shiver that raced through him when he made contact with her.
She steadied herself for what she must’ve figured would be an angry spew of words.
Instead of blasting her, he leaned toward her until they were so close that he could see her pupils. But he didn’t care about that. For some messed up reason he needed to inhale her flowery scent and remember that she was very much alive.
Hell, half of the time along this weird psychedelic journey, he expected to wake up next to an empty bottle of tequila. He’d welcome a hangover to the mixed-up emotions coursing through him at present. But he’d never been big on alcohol.
This close, he breathed in her unique scent—lilies and fresh-from-the-shower clean. That was her. That was Kimberly. And she was right there in front of him, after eleven long months of his chest feeling like it might cave in every time he took a breath.
Weakness had him wanting to grab hold of her and not let go.