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.
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.
