Cowboy's Secret Son

Strong grip, his son had.

His son.

What was he supposed to do about that?

“I saw a news story about the bull you saved. That’s how I found you.” Courtney nodded toward Angel Maker, who appeared to be eyeing Tim for a second soul-fearing battle. “That’s him?”

“In the flesh.”

He wouldn’t be diverted by that animal. He had a million questions, but he’d start with one. “Why are you here, Courtney?”

Her name caressed his tongue, and he lingered on the taste for a moment.

She glanced away, not meeting his gaze. Something didn’t feel right. The hair on the back of his neck stiffened to attention. She chewed on her lip and seemed to be searching for the words.

“You could’ve called,” he said. “Or had a lawyer contact me. Instead, you traveled halfway across the country with our son with no way of predicting my reaction. Why?”

She straightened her back and lifted her chin. At this angle, he could take in every detail of her reddened eyes and tightly drawn lips. Something was definitely wrong.

“I came for your help. Someone has threatened to kill our son.”

* * *

COURTNEY HAD NEVER seen anyone react so fast. The words had barely left her lips when Jared’s gaze scanned the perimeter. The muscle in his jawline pulsed, and a flat, dangerous stillness settled through his body.

“Come with me,” he said, gripping her arm with a firm hand.

He didn’t take a second look at Dylan, didn’t hesitate. He pulled her toward the sprawling ranch style house and glanced over his shoulder. “Roscoe, check in with the hands. I want to know if anyone’s seen anything...off.”

“But we’ve already doubled security because of—”

“Triple-check everything,” Jared snapped.

The grizzled cowboy didn’t hesitate. He gave a curt nod and hurried into a huge barn past the pen holding the angry-looking bull.

Courtney had never experienced a more surreal moment. Jared didn’t question her; he didn’t look at her like she was crazy. He simply acted.

He shuffled her up the steps and across the wide wooden porch. He opened the screen door and held it while she disappeared inside. She couldn’t quite accept the foreign place where she found herself. On an actual Texas ranch in the middle of nowhere after a too long drive from an airport that had taken all of ten minutes to walk from one end to the other.

Not to mention she currently stood only a short city block away from a vicious-looking bull, several stereotypical cowboys, a bevy of horses and a large barn. If it hadn’t been for the beat-up pickup truck she’d parked besides, she’d have wondered what century she’d landed in.

“Velma, lock the front door, shut the curtains and stay inside,” Jared ordered the woman hurrying behind them. “I don’t want either of you out in the open until I know exactly what’s going on.”

The housekeeper didn’t pause or argue, but moved in a whirlwind to follow his instructions. Jared tugged on Courtney’s arm. Normally she would have resisted the manhandling, but he’d stunned her. She hadn’t even showed him the note yet.

“My luggage—”

“I’ll bring it in later.”

The curt words brooked no argument. At Jared’s tone Dylan squirmed in her arms, whimpering a bit. She bounced him, holding him closer. “It’s okay, Jelly Bean. We’re going to be fine.”

She could only pray she wasn’t lying.

Courtney kissed his forehead and breathed in his baby powder scent. She touched her cheek to Dylan’s soft hair and closed her eyes. The blackmailer had forced her to keep his cell phone. She wasn’t stupid. He had to be tracking her. He had to know she’d flown to Texas. She’d believed him when he’d promised she couldn’t hide.

She’d needed help and law enforcement was off the table. She’d risked everything coming here. The blackmailer had been perfectly clear. He wanted money. Since she didn’t have any and neither did her father, she had no choice. Jared was her only option to protect her son.

After a glance through the shutters in the front window, he faced his housekeeper. “Velma, show Courtney into my study. I’ll check the back door.”

Brow furrowed, Velma crossed the stone foyer to a set of large mahogany double doors. “Come along, dearie.”

Courtney followed, trying to keep her increasingly unhappy son calm. She rubbed his back in slow, circular motions. Velma snapped closed the curtains on three large windows before flipping on a series of track lights to brighten the wood paneled room.

Dylan clutched at the neck of Courtney’s Louis Vuitton dress, his mouth drooling, his face reddening.

“I know what you want,” she whispered, gently pushing his light brown hair off his forehead. She settled into a large leather sofa and zipped open the diaper bag, pulling out a teething biscuit.

Dylan grabbed the treat in both hands and stuffed it into his mouth, gnawing with gusto. He sagged against her, content for the moment.

“You know your boy well,” Velma remarked with approval.

“He’s my son.”

“And mine.” Jared stood, outlined by the dark wood door frame, a rifle crooked over his bent arm. “The house is secure. I’ve instructed four hands to keep watch. Velma, I could use some of that coffee cake you made yesterday.”

“Go easy, boyo,” she cautioned with a small pat on his arm.

Courtney shivered at the warning. Jared didn’t respond, but firmly closed the doors behind Velma’s retreating figure. The catch clicked into place.

Slowly he faced her, his tall figure and broad shoulders shrinking the large room. Most New York apartments would fit comfortably into a tiny corner of his home.

She squirmed in her seat, feeling at a distinct disadvantage. If Dylan hadn’t been so comfortably settled on her lap, she would have faced Jared standing instead of him looming above her. The weapon didn’t help.

As if reading her mind, he propped the gun in the corner, squatted down in front of her and stared unblinkingly at Dylan. The baby gazed back, still working on his biscuit. Jared thrust a hand through his short dark hair. It shook slightly and a flash of insight struck Courtney. He may have gone all alpha on her, but their son had Jared King spooked.

Cautiously, gently he touched Dylan’s leg, then clasped his tiny hand. The little boy grabbed his finger and squeezed. A small smiled tilted Jared’s lips. A sad sigh escaped him and reluctantly he pulled away.

“Who wants to hurt our son?” he asked with a frown, his focus still glued to Dylan.

Despite some misgivings, Courtney had no choice but to trust Jared. That’s why she’d come. She tugged a sheet of paper from the zippered pocket of the diaper bag and handed it over. “I found this pinned to one of Dylan’s stuffed animals yesterday. Someone was in my apartment. They k-killed...”

Her voice broke as she relayed what little she knew.

He read the note and with each word of her explanation Jared’s eyes grew icier. His jaw muscle pulsed. “Did you call the police?”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t risk their involvement with that note. I had to protect Dylan.”

“I see.” Jared stared at the floor, his gaze thoughtful. “Leaving was your only option.”