The Mummy Mystery

Gabrielle made a soft gasp, and even though it was soft, Houston thought it might be laced with outrage.

The sheriff glanced past Houston and looked around the stables. He even took a step forward, probably intending to go inside and have a closer look around to see what had made that sound. Soon, Houston would let him do just that. But he wanted to hear the rest of this little story first.

“How could Ms. Markham hope to gain any leverage over me with an illegal surrogacy?” Houston asked.

Sheriff Whitley met him eye-to-eye. “Mr. Sadler … Houston, this is going to be tough news for you to hear. I figured I should warn you about that upfront.”

A lot of bad things went through Houston’s mind, but he managed a nod. Oh, this wouldn’t be good. In all his thirty-six years, the sheriff had finally called him by his first name, and his tone was that of pure sympathy.

The sheriff eased off his hat. “About five years ago, your late wife, Lizzy, and you used the Cryogen Clinic, in San Antonio, to harvest Lizzy’s eggs so you’d have embryos for in vitro fertilization.”

Houston held up his hand to stop the sheriff. “We did, but we never used the embryos. Well, not successfully anyway.” They’d made a half dozen attempts, but in vitro had never worked for them.

Houston squeezed his hands into fists for several seconds, so he could hold on to his composure. Even now, more than three years later, it was hell talking about this.

“Your wife died of breast cancer,” the sheriff finished for him.

“Yeah.” And Houston left it at that. “So, what do our embryos have to do with Ms. Markham?”

The sheriff shook his head, mumbled something under his breath. “At this point, the police don’t know if Ms. Markham stole the embryo or not. But you can understand why they want to take her into custody. And they darn sure want to learn what she’s been up to, and where she’s taken the baby.”

The sheriff paused again. “Has she been in contact with you about any kind of payment?”

Houston tried to shrug, but he was getting a very bad feeling about this. “Why would she?”

“Maybe she wants to use the child to get you to cough up money? ”

That bad feeling got significantly worse. Each word hit Houston like a fist. “Back up. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

The sheriff took his time, and his forehead bunched up before he nodded. “I’m saying the baby boy that Gabrielle Markham gave birth to six weeks ago is your son.”

Chapter Two

Gabrielle’s instincts were to run, to get out of there as fast as she could. It’d been a terrible mistake, coming to Houston Sadler’s ranch. Now, it might cost her the very thing she was trying desperately to hang on to, her baby, Lucas.

She looked at the back of the stables for a way out. There was a set of double doors, both closed, and Gabrielle only hoped they weren’t locked—and that the big horse that Houston had ridden would get out of her way. While she was hoping, she added that neither the sheriff nor Houston would spot her while she escaped.

Gabrielle made her way behind the shelves and was about to climb over a stall when she heard the sound. It was a loud groan, so loud and so filled with emotion that it caused her to turn around. Houston had made that sound, and even though his back was to her, he had his head tilted toward the sky as if seeking divine help.

She understood his reaction.

Lately, Gabrielle had been doing her own share of praying.

“You’re sure about this baby being mine?” Houston asked the sheriff.

“I’m sure. What SAPD hasn’t figured out yet is how Ms. Markham got the embryo in the first place. Your wife hadn’t left a signed agreement that it could be donated, so there’s no legal way Ms. Markham could have used it. That’s why SAPD is so concerned. They don’t know what she intends to do with the baby.”

That stopped Gabrielle in her tracks, and the anger slammed through her again. How dare they accuse her of doing anything wrong. She was the victim here, and Houston Sadler was the person who’d probably put this sick plan together.

At least she’d thought that when she sneaked onto the ranch and into the stables to wait for him.

When she’d come up with the idea to get Houston to confess to his dirty deeds, she’d been thankful that he was a man of routine. Just about everyone in Willow Ridge knew that Houston took his favorite horse out for a ride after lunch, so she’d delivered some flowers to the house and then made her way to the stables. The ranch was such a big operation, with dozens of employees, that no one had seemed to notice her, and no one had been in the stables to question why she was there.

Her plan had succeeded—except for the fact that she might have been wrong. Judging from that emotion-filled groan, Houston could be innocent. But Gabrielle wasn’t ready to buy that just yet. He was the only one with a motive for making this pregnancy happen. Her only motive was that she’d desperately wanted a child and hadn’t been able to have one of her own.

“Are you all right? “ the sheriff asked him.

She couldn’t hear what Houston mumbled, but if it was “yes,” then it was a lie. Either he’d just learned for the first time that he was a father, or else he’d learned that his devious plan had been uncovered.

Gabrielle got moving again with her escape, because either scenario spelled trouble for her.

Houston glanced over his shoulder, and Gabrielle ducked down behind the stall door so he wouldn’t see her. He didn’t look around the stables for her. Instead, he turned his attention back to the sheriff.

“I need some time to think about this,” Houston said, suddenly sounding more alert. “Don’t say anything to my dad, just yet. But could you tell my foreman, Dale, what you told me, and let him know I’ll be in the stables for a while? ”

Gabrielle waited, with her pulse thick and throbbing. Was Houston really going to send the sheriff away? Or was this some kind of trick?

She cursed the fog in her head. If her thoughts were clearer, she might be able to figure out all of this, but she hadn’t slept more than three hours straight in the past six weeks. Before that, there had been the delivery, immediately followed by the hostage situation. She was exhausted, spent and beyond punchy. Still, this might finally all come to a head. She might finally learn what was going on. If Houston would finally come clean.

Of course, that was a big if.

Houston waited until the sheriff walked away before he entered the stables. He shut the doors. And Gabrielle cursed again. Had she made yet another mistake by staying so she could get his side of the story? Or rather his side of the lie?

“Is it true?” Houston asked.

Gabrielle eased up so she could see him from over the top of the stall—and was stunned by the raw feelings she saw there in his eyes. If Houston had indeed put all of this together, then he was a good actor.

She walked out of the hay-strewn stall so she could face him. But Gabrielle didn’t get close. She didn’t want him trying to kill her to cover up his plan. However, he didn’t seem a man with murder on his mind.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.

Even though he looked like an average cowboy, with his jeans, worn black leather vest and denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he also wore his privileged bloodline. It was there. In his glacier-blue eyes, and saddle-brown hair that was a little too long and messy for the boardroom, but perfect for a man who worked with both his hands and his mind.

Houston Sadler was a wealthy man. A billionaire. And he was accustomed to getting exactly what he wanted.

“Is it true?” he repeated.

Gabrielle hiked up her chin and forced herself to answer. “I did get pregnant through in vitro, but I didn’t steal an embryo. I didn’t steal anything.”

“Except a baby from the nursery at the San Antonio Maternity Hospital,” he quickly pointed out.

“My baby,” she insisted.

In the same moment, Houston said, “I want to see him. I want to see my son.”

Oh, God. This was exactly what she feared most. “Lucas is not your son. I gave birth to him.”

He rammed his thumb against his chest. “With my late wife’s embryo that you stole.” He groaned again and shook his head. “I have a son.”