“The first one happened last week—as I’m sure you read in the report. I wasn’t there, but the person destroyed an antique panel that I’d been restoring.”
Property damage. Much better than damaging her body, but he could tell from her tone that it still hurt. Clayton didn’t know a lot about Lenora’s job in stained-glass restoration, but he remembered her saying that she often worked with expensive antiques.
“What about the second break-in?” He stopped just outside the building and looked around. Lenora did, too. There was no sign of that black truck, so he took her by arm and led her across the street.
“You already know.” She sounded upset, or something, that he’d read the police reports, but Clayton didn’t intend to apologize for that.
“I still consider you my business,” he clarified.
She blinked. “Why? Because my friend was killed on your watch? If so, that wasn’t your fault.”
The question threw him. Yeah, that was part of it—that a woman in his protective custody had died. In fact, that should have been all of it. But there were feelings buried beneath this, and maybe Lenora’s blink meant it wasn’t all business for her, either.
She looked away, mumbled something he didn’t catch. “Back to the break-ins. Again, I wasn’t there for the second one. In fact, I’ve been living at one of those extended-stay hotels since the first break-in.” Lenora paused. “The intruder left threatening messages scrawled on my bedroom wall.”
Clayton cursed. That hadn’t been in the initial report he’d read from the Eagle Pass P.D., but Clayton knew this was an escalation. If Lenora had been there—
But he cut off that bad thought.
Maybe their one-night stand had made her want to keep some distance between them. But she was here now, and though she hadn’t said it specifically, she appeared to be asking for his help.
Which she would get.
And Clayton assured himself that it had nothing to do with the night he’d spent with her. Or this cool heat still simmering between them. He would have helped anyone who needed it.
They took a booth by the window so he could keep watch for the truck, and he asked the waitress to bring them two cups of coffee.
“Do the cops have a suspect in the break-ins?” he asked.
Lenora shook her head. “They don’t have any prints, any type of trace evidence, and none of my neighbors saw anyone suspicious.”
That meshed with the reports he’d read, but witnesses often came forward later. Maybe that would happen in this case.
“Tell me who you think was in that truck,” Clayton said.
Another head shake. “I don’t know.”
“A boyfriend, maybe?”
“No. I’m not seeing anyone. And I don’t think I’ve been followed before.” Lenora blew out another breath, and she had a death grip on the coffee cup. “There’s more.” She said it so softly that Clayton didn’t actually hear her. He saw the words form on her lips.
“What?” he pushed when she didn’t explain.
This was beyond a bad feeling, and he instantly went back to the night they’d spent together. He wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with what she was about to say, but he also knew he had to hear it.
“You’re pregnant?” he came out and asked.
No blink this time. She nodded.
And that nod sent his heartbeat racing out of control.
Oh, man.
It felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. All the air left his lungs. All. But he fought to get enough breath so he could speak.
However, Lenora beat him to it. “I wrestled with whether to tell you at all. I mean, we hardly know each other. But I decided if our situations were reversed, I’d want to know. By the way, I don’t expect anything from you,” she added.
That gave him a jolt of breath he needed. “Well, you damn well should expect something.”
Lenora eased back, her attention fixed to him. “Obviously, you’re not pleased about this—”
“Only because I didn’t see it coming.”
“Yes.” And she repeated that. “It caught me off guard, too. We used protection, but something must have gone wrong.”
Obviously.
He pulled in a couple of quick breaths and hoped it’d clear his head. He needed to think. To say the right thing.
Whatever that was.
A baby!
He’d never planned on being a father. Never. And this was a shock that made him speechless.
She looked up. Their gazes connected. But then Lenora looked away again. Not at the coffee this time, but rather out the window.
“Is that the black truck you saw?” Her attention was on something over his shoulder.
Clayton turned in that direction and saw the truck. Yeah. It was the same one. It was creeping along Main Street, going past the diner.
Unlike before, the window on the passenger’s side was halfway down. There didn’t appear to be anyone seated there, only the person behind the steering wheel. Clayton couldn’t see the guy’s face.
But he saw the gun.
“Get down!” Clayton shouted to Lenora and everyone else in the diner.
He reached beneath his jacket to draw his Glock, but it was already too late. The bullet blasted through the window.
Clayton felt the sharp pain in the side of his head, and even over the blast, he heard Lenora yell. He tried to move. Tried to return fire and protect her, but he felt himself falling.
And everything around him turned cold and gray.
Chapter Two
Lenora’s heart slammed against her chest, and she snatched up the Glock that dropped from Clayton’s hand and onto the table. She saw the blood, no way to miss that.
No way to avoid that punch of adrenaline, either.
That fear.
Oh, God.
Clayton had been shot.
That was her first thought, quickly followed by the realization that this could all be her fault. But she shoved those things aside because every second counted now.
“Call an ambulance!” Lenora yelled out to no one in particular.
She
