Colton's Surprise Heir. Addison Fox
serial killers, currently serving out several life terms for a shocking string of murders, the last of which was his wife. The state had tried repeatedly for the death penalty, but the old man had managed to dodge the proverbial noose. And now he was dying of cancer.
Ethan had got the cancer news the same day as the rodeo. It was the only reason he’d been able to give himself as to why he’d been so honest with Lizzie. He was human, after all. And no matter how much he wanted to bottle up the endless sea of hatred he held for the old man, even the deepest waters sometimes washed up on shore.
Lizzie knew him and his family. Their background. She was safe. And he’d shared more with her than he’d ever shared with anyone.
He’d thought about calling her since then, more than once. Although they hadn’t shared personal information, he could have found her. Hell, he knew damn well it wouldn’t have taken more than a quick computer search to discover some way to get in contact. Or he could simply reverse that hour-long drive back to her home clear across the county.
But he’d held back, torturing himself with the heated memories of the hours they’d shared together, convinced she deserved so much more than he could give her.
Yet here he sat, six agonizing months later, in the crosshairs of a sobering truth. The very thing he’d spent his adult life running from had finally caught up with him.
Ethan stared at her, her large eyes solemn as she held his gaze. With gentle fingers, he reached out and brushed a soft curl behind her ear.
“My reasons don’t matter anymore. From this moment on, we discuss our child. We make decisions for our child. Together.”
* * *
There were those words again. Our child. As if Ethan Colton was an anxious, expectant father, excited to finally welcome his son or daughter into the world.
Don’t get attached, Lizzie girl. It never ends well.
Shaking off the reality of her life along with the warmth of his touch, she stood. She couldn’t allow herself to become dependent.
Or to need him too much.
“I haven’t told you everything yet.”
That tough demeanor had returned to his gaze as Ethan stood, matching her toe to toe. “You mean the notes.”
She nodded, then took a deep breath. She’d practiced on the car ride here, working through how she’d tell him.
Calm. Cool. Controlled.
She’d imagined those words, then imagined what they’d feel like, willing her emotions to match.
So how mortifying to feel the sting of tears pricking her eyes.
“Come on, Lizzie.” He took her hand and pulled her to the couch. “We’ll deal with it. Whatever it is.”
She wanted to fight the delicious warmth of his hand wrapped around hers, but it felt so good. And so safe. The endless days of thinking herself in the throes of some pregnant mania had given way to a sobering reality, and it felt good to have some support, even if it would ultimately be fleeting.
So she kept her hand in his and launched into her story.
“I think you know I’m a loan officer for a bank, in their corporate office. We have responsibility for about thirty counties in Texas and a sister office in Austin that covers the southern portion of the state. It’s a sizable territory, and there are about eighty of us.”
“It sounds like a good job.”
Was a good job, Lizzie lamented to herself before she pressed on. “It is. I was well respected and getting more responsibility. I made it clear to my boss that this is my career and I’m committed to it.”
“And they got upset when you announced your pregnancy?”
“That’s what was odd. Not only was my boss excited, she wanted to throw me a shower. Said this was happy news and that I’d make a great mother.”
She saw the confusion stamped on Ethan’s face and knew it was a match for her own. The conversation she’d dreaded from the moment she’d discovered her pregnancy had instead confirmed she’d been working for the right employer. The office consistently preached work-life balance and family values, and their reaction had only confirmed that ethos.
They were happy for her.
“So what’s with the notes? It doesn’t sound like anyone has an ax to grind.”
“A few weeks after my pregnancy became office news, the notes started. I’d waited until I’d passed my first trimester, but you can only hide the proof for so long.” A small laugh bubbled up at that, the maternity clothes she’d purchased early on a giveaway of her condition, even to the few who hadn’t heard the news. “As I said, my boss was excited, and once I gave her the okay to mention it, all she could talk about was baby clothes and a shower and stuffed animals.”
“Is it possible someone at the office got jealous? Maybe someone who couldn’t have a child? Joy in others often makes what we can’t have even worse.”
“I don’t think so. I mean, we’re a relatively young staff and several other coworkers have had babies or the fathers have taken paternity leave. There’s nothing out of the ordinary in being pregnant.”
“Did you keep the notes?”
“Not right away. The first couple I threw away. I know it was stupid, but I didn’t want to give them any credence or an ounce of my time. But after I got a few more I took them to the police.”
“Did they put someone on your case? Someone who could watch out for you?”
“For a few days, but when nothing else manifested they had to prioritize something more important.”
“That’s a load of bull. You were obviously threatened.”
“And they tried. A detective came to work and asked questions, and several officers drove by my home. But what were they supposed to do, Ethan? The threats stopped for a while, but they can’t watch out for me indefinitely.”
“What about the flowers? Did the detective follow that lead?”
“Yes, and it was a dead end. The florist was questioned, but the payment was in cash and the name given for the sender ended up being fake.”
Ethan snorted at that, his disgust palpable. While she was inclined to agree with him—especially staring down a series of creepy notes—she also knew the police had to deal with real cases.
Real victims.
Until the last one.
“They’ve called several times since to check on me, but once the rattle came I’d had enough.”
“What did the good detective say about that one?”
“It was hard for him to say anything.”
“Why’s that? You had evidence. Something that likely had prints.”
“I’m sure it didn’t. The few notes they analyzed had no fingerprints. Whoever’s doing this has been careful. Besides, it didn’t matter.” A hard shiver gripped her despite the warmth of the room. “The rattle disappeared.”
“What? When?”
“Two nights ago. When I got home from work. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I left it on my kitchen counter, but when I got home it was gone.”
“Do you have a security system?”
His simple, direct questions calmed her, and she focused on his words. On answering each query instead of on the reality of what she was dealing with. A monster.
“I never saw the point. I don’t live in anything extravagant.”
“You’re a woman alone. You should have protection.”