Cowboy in the Extreme

Brandon’s gruff voice echoed through the house. “Kim, it’s all right. Where are you?”

Relief surged through her, and she jumped up and hurried to unlock the door. Lucy clung to her, her head trying to bore a hole in Kim’s chest.

The doorknob twisted, and he knocked on the wood. “Kim, answer me,” Brandon asked. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay, just give me a minute.” Adjusting Lucy on her hip, she flipped the lock and threw open the door. When she saw Brandon in the doorway looking worried and so damn handsome and big and strong, she was so relieved she almost collapsed into his arms. “Thank you for coming,” she said on a ragged breath.

He took a step forward as if to reach for her and the years of hurt and pain fell away. She ached to have him hold her again, to make everything all right, to have him love her.

But his pale green eyes, eyes that reminded her of their past, of the hurt and betrayal between them, skated over her, then down to Lucy and she stiffened.

He’d never met Lucy before. What if he took one look and knew the truth?

Brandon tensed, gripping his hands into fists. “Are you two okay?”

Kim stroked her daughter’s back, swaying back and forth rocking her. “Yes. Just frightened.”

Brandon gestured toward the living room. “Come on, let’s go into the den. Then you can tell me what happened.”

Kim’s legs felt shaky as she walked to the living room and sank onto the couch. Brandon flipped on the kitchen light, and she blinked to adjust her eyes. The sight of the broken lamp and dirt on the floor made her stomach knot with renewed fear.

“Mommy?” Lucy lifted her head slightly, tears streaking her cheeks, and Kim wiped them away with her hand.

“It’s okay, honey. We’re safe. You can go back to sleep.” Lucy sighed, then seemed to accept her mother’s answer and huddled against her chest in a tiny ball.

Blue lights from the sheriff’s approaching car swirled outside, streaking the window. The sound of the engine clicking off echoed in the tense silence; then seconds later, the sheriff appeared at the door.

Brandon went to meet him. “Sheriff, I’m Brandon Woodstock, Johnny and Brody’s friend. I was at the main house when Kim called about the break-in.”

Sheriff McRae introduced himself, then followed Brandon over to the sofa, where she sat trying to compose herself. But having someone try to break into her cabin and seeing Brandon so close that she could touch him had her nerves tied in knots.

“What happened?” Sheriff McRae asked. “Did you see anyone?”

Kim swallowed hard. The sheriff was a big guy with a barrel chest and eyes that cut through her. “No, I was in bed when I heard a noise,” Kim said. “I heard footsteps and the lamp crashed to the floor, so I ran to Lucy’s room and locked her door. Then we hid in the closet.”

Sheriff McRae shifted on the balls of his feet. “Let me take a look around.” He examined the lock, then stooped down to study the dirt marring the wood entryway. “It looks like he picked the lock.”

“Johnny said there were problems on the ranch before,” Brandon said. “A fire and fencing cut.”

“Yes, I’ve been investigating those incidents,” Sheriff McRae said. “This could be related. I’ll get a crime kit and dust for fingerprints.”

He glanced back at the door. “Was the intruder still here when you arrived, Woodstock?”

Brandon shook his head. “I heard a horse galloping away in the back, but I was worried about Kim and her daughter so I checked inside first.”

Sheriff McRae nodded, then angled his head toward Kim.

“Ma’am, can you think of anyone who’d want to hurt you? Do you have any enemies?”

Kim shook her head. “No.”

“How about a husband or boyfriend?”

Kim felt Brandon’s gaze burning through her, and gritted her teeth. “No.”

Sheriff McRae raised a brow. “No ex-husband who might want the child?”

She knew he was thinking about Rachel’s situation, that her ex had been stalking her and tried to kidnap their son. “I’ve never been married.”

“What about the little girl’s father?”

Kim glared at him for asking such a question in front of her daughter. “I said no.”

“Wait a minute,” Brandon cut in, his tone worried. “Johnny called earlier to warn me, Kim. There was a prison break. Carter escaped.”

Kim gasped, perspiration beading on her neck. “I have to talk to Johnny.”

The sheriff gave her an odd look, but she didn’t wait to explain. She settled Lucy on the sofa and covered her with an afghan, then took her phone and stepped onto the porch.

The sheriff’s questions were too probing. Too close to home. She had to do something. Get away. Hide.

If Carter had escaped and knew she was here, he might have come after Lucy.

BRANDON RECOGNIZED the fear and panic in Kim’s eyes and wanted to comfort her. But he had given up that right when he’d left her and married Marty.

Besides, she had slept with Carter. Just the thought of her in Carter’s arms, in his bed, roused his anger.

Hell, if Carter was coming here to see his daughter, Brandon could hardly blame him.

It was exactly what he would do if Lucy had been his child, and he’d been locked up for years, unable to watch her grow up and spend holidays and birthdays with her.

Had Kim carried Lucy to the prison to see Carter? What had she told the little girl about her father?

Pain knifed through him, an ache so raw that he had to suck air through his teeth to stem a moan.

He would never have a child of his own. He couldn’t risk it.

Not knowing whether he might pass on the same genetic disorder that had tormented his younger sister. Not after losing her to it…

It was the final straw that had ended his marriage to Marty. She had wanted a family. He had adamantly refused. He could not chance bringing a child into the world only to watch the child suffer the way Joanie had.

Besides, he’d known it was a last frantic attempt on Marty’s part to tie him to her.

God knows, he’d wanted to love her.

But he hadn’t been able to and she’d known it.

Because he’d given his heart to Kim years ago, and he’d never gotten it back.