The Coltons of Texas

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.

Chapter 4

Ethan busied himself with a series of mundane chores, the act of mucking stalls and working through several small fix-it projects designed to keep his mind off the woman currently taking a nap several hundred yards away in his house. It was only when he hammered the last nail into a sagging door frame that he finally admitted the truth.

He’d failed miserably.

His mind was full of Lizzie, and no amount of physical labor had removed her from the center of his thoughts. He even had a bruise on his knuckles from when he wasn’t paying attention to prove it.

Although he was far from comfortable with it, he was beginning to get used to the idea of being a father. What he hadn’t quite conquered was the bone-shuddering need that had swept through him at the sight of his child’s mother.

She was pregnant, for heaven’s sake. He shouldn’t be looking at her as if he wanted to devour her. She deserved his respect. And gentleness. And a man who wasn’t thinking about long sultry nights wrapped up in each other.

He’d have thought the sight of her pregnant belly would take his mind off the sensual thoughts. So it was more than a little unsettling to realize her softly rounded stomach drew out the need to protect as well as a base sexuality he’d never have imagined.

She was carrying his baby.

Tossing his hammer into his toolbox, Ethan let out a low curse and went to check on Dream. He might have no clue how to deal with a woman—or the sea of emotions one woman in particular managed to whip up—but he knew what to do with animals. Quiet and more than willing to share their affection, with them he always knew where he stood.

Dream nudged his shoulder the moment he was within distance of her stall, her sweet head bump going a long way toward uncoiling the tension wrapping his shoulders. “You want out for a walk, baby?”

Anticipation lit her dark eyes, and Ethan made quick work of her lead. In moments, he had her in the paddock, watching as she pranced in happy circles. He briefly thought about calling the doctor to confirm she wouldn’t injure her foal, but knew he was being overly cautious. Doc Peters had said Dream could resume regular activity. In fact, he’d made it an imperative.

So he trusted the animal knew what was best for her and stood back to watch.

The late afternoon quiet wrapped around him. Several hands had the other horses out, exercising and riding the land, while another crew had gone out to mend a patch of fence. He’d wanted to go with them—knew he should be with them—but he found himself loath to go too far from the house.

Roiling emotions aside, he couldn’t shake the fear that something terrible was hovering out there, waiting for them. He cursed again and fought to keep his focus firmly on fact. He’d spent his childhood living in fear, and the moment he had some control over his life, he’d sworn off continuing to live that way. He would handle this.

Whatever this was.

He had means. And he had a damn good head on his shoulders. If neither worked, he had a loaded shotgun in his closet that could help seal the deal.

At the image of the gun, Ethan quickly made a mental note to purchase a gun safe. There was no way he was keeping an unlocked gun around a small child. One who would be in his house all too soon.

“Those are some heavy thoughts.”

Ethan turned at the soft words and came face-to-face with Lizzie. The afternoon sun had warmed things and she stood there in her sweatshirt and an old vest he kept hanging in his mudroom. The image of her in his things shot another arrow of need through him, and he turned toward the paddock and away from the tempting sight. “Just giving Dream a run. She needed some fresh air.”

Lizzie took a spot next to him on the rail, her booted foot propped up on the bottom rung. Color ran high on her cheeks as she pointed toward the far side of the ring. “She looks well.”

“Doc Peters is amazing.”

“He may be, but it looks like you’ve got a pretty amazing horse, too.”

Ethan felt the scrutiny—Lizzie wasn’t subtle—and marveled at the frank honesty. Even when she was a small child, she’d had that gaze. Bright green eyes that could size you up and tease you in one fell swoop.

Unwilling to keep his gaze diverted, he turned to stare into the familiar. And had to admit the wide-eyed innocence of the child had given way to the knowledge of a grown woman.

“Dream’s perfect.”

“You always wanted a barn full of horses. I remember how you used to talk of the ranch you’d have. I could see it, too.” Lizzie stepped back from the paddock rail and turned slowly, making a full circle, before she turned back toward him. “It’s just as you’d said it would be.”

“I knew what I wanted.”

“Yes, you did. And now you have it. That must be satisfying.”

Satisfying, yes. But a bit empty.

The thought caught him completely unaware, and Ethan scrambled to reorganize the odd impressions swirling through his mind.

Empty? When had that idea settled in and taken root?

Even as the confusion whirled around in his thoughts like a dust storm, Ethan knew. That weekend after he and Lizzie had shared time at the rodeo, he’d walked the land and wondered why the vastness he’d always welcomed suddenly seemed oppressive.

The ranch was his. This corner of Texas, so open and wide, had become his own. He’d put every ounce of himself into the place since he was nineteen. First as a hand, then as foreman and then—finally—as his own after his old boss wanted out of the business.

The ranch was his life. It was as much a part of him as his heart and soul.

So when had it stopped being enough?

“Ethan?”

“Sorry. Long day.”

She let his polite lie pass and turned back to the paddock. “I’ll give her credit. She certainly has more energy than I do.”

“Are you okay?” He had one hand on her back and the other covering her hand before he could even think to check his movements. “Do you need to lie down?”

Her shoulders stiffened beneath his hands before relaxing, and she moved a heartbeat closer. “I’m fine. I just tire easier, even with an afternoon spent lazing around like a cat.”

“The benefit of moving on four legs instead of two?”

Lizzie laughed at that, her smile wide and open. “Maybe that’s it.”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind.”

Those delicate shoulders stiffened once more and he cursed himself for bringing such unpleasantness into their conversation.

“Yes. I have.”

“Well, one thing to take off it is me.”

Her gaze changed, shifted. The bright smile she’d worn while watching Dream was nowhere in evidence. “How so?”

“This is my child. You have my commitment that I will help you and stand by you. Both.”

“That’s comforting.”

“It’s fact. You won’t face this alone. I will be a father to my child.”

* * *

Lizzie pushed on a bright smile and ignored the pain that drummed against her heart with all the finesse of a blunt instrument.

Ethan Colton would be an amazing father to their child.

And that was all he’d be.

Shake it off, Lizzie girl. Shake it off.

The fantasy she’d warned herself against over the past six months—ever since that night at the rodeo—curled against the corners of her mind with reaching fingers. Although she knew it for the emotional foolishness it was, that small, hopeful piece of her had wondered if there could be more with Ethan.

With her gaze on the horse, she kept her voice level. “That’s a lot to take on. Especially with all the issues I’m having back at home.”

“Issues we’ll face together.” She sensed him before she felt him, the light press of his fingers against her shoulder drawing her attention. “Lizzie. I mean it. You’re not alone.”

“I’m always alone.”

The words were out before she could censor them. She hated playing the abandonment card—it suggested a weakness she refused to feel. She was proud of how hard she’d worked to overcome her childhood so she could focus on a bright future full of love and laughter.

So why was it so easy to drift back to that place?

The therapist she’d found after she started at the bank had been gentle, urging her to put voice to the feelings she’d lived with her whole life instead of keeping them locked inside. How humbling, then, to realize just how easy it was to regress.

He lifted his hand from her shoulder, but instead of breaking contact, he moved his fingers lightly over the length of her arm, coming to rest just above her wrist. Although she’d believed her sweatshirt was warm enough to battle the February afternoon chill, she’d had no idea the movement of the worn cotton over her skin could feel so sensual. So erotic.

She’d read the pregnancy books and knew her hormones were to blame for the immediate response to his touch, but deep down Lizzie wondered if it was something more.

Something that went far deeper than she’d admit, even to herself.

“I can only imagine how scared you’ve been, but we’ll get to the bottom of it. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Except you.

She laid her hand over his and gave in to the urge to look at him. Really look at him. Although the afternoon was comfortable, a light wind had filled his cheeks with ruddy color. The pinkish-red hue was a match for his lips, the firm, strong lines of his mouth drawing her attention.

He was a beautiful man, almost startlingly so, with thick lips and a firm jawline she itched to trace. To soften. He rarely smiled, instead facing the world with a stoic facade that tugged at something deep inside her.

It had always been that way, even when they were young. He’d seen so much—had lived with the image of finding his dead mother—and it sat heavy on his shoulders.

Lizzie knew what an impact parents had on their children—whether present or not—but Ethan’s life had been defined by his parents even more than most. Yet even with those ghosts—or demons, as a more apt description of Matthew Colton—Ethan had still made something of himself.

He was so strong. Capable. And so quintessentially male. Thick with muscle, he appeared comfortable in a body that was used to hard work and long days. But it was his face. Long lashes that were a dusty goldish brown framed those rich hazel eyes that had seen so much. There was a haunted quality to Ethan Colton, and she had no idea if he even realized it.

Shadows lurked in those hazel depths, and she desperately wanted to be the one to chase them away.

The hand that covered her forearm tightened, and Lizzie became conscious of the seconds ticking by. Of the sound of their breathing, rising in tempo, matched in rhythm. She couldn’t want this. She had her child to think of, and he or she needed to be her full focus right now.