bring up Mitch, along with his siblings. She’d managed to wrangle six Kent children before retiring years ago but when she’d learned one of her “babies” was having babies, she’d insisted on returning to care for them.
Lucky for him, Kimberly had welcomed Joyce’s help. The fact that she’d taken to the idea had caught him off guard at first. Kimberly had always been a private person. And that was where his luck had run out.
Sitting on the bench he’d carved out of solid wood beside the tallest oak on the property, he looked down at the marker. Kimberly Kent—loving wife and devoted mother.
She wasn’t supposed to be buried there. His mind pointed out that she technically wasn’t. It didn’t matter. Kimberly Kent was gone.
He crossed his boots at the ankles.
When the twins were old enough, he’d bring them here to see their mother. He set the fresh flowers down—lilies. Her favorite. They reminded him of her, of her fresh-from-the-shower scent.
The wind started to pick up as a few more gray clouds rolled in, reflecting his somber mood. Rain was in the forecast, in the air, and it had been drier than a salt lick all week.
The feeling of being watched settled over him. Amber? One of his brothers? He scanned the meadow but saw nothing. Further proof that he was losing it.
The idea anyone could be in the meadow without his knowledge hit hard. Someone had been on the ranch undetected. The sheer amount of acreage owned by the Kent family made it impossible to monitor every inch. But still...
His gaze dropped to the plot of land in front of him.
“I saw you outside the pediatrician’s office today,” he said to the green grass over an empty grave. “Even though it couldn’t have been you, I wanted her to be.” He paused, choking back the emotion threatening to consume him—emotion that he’d successfully buried. “Rea’s doctor visit was good. She’s going to be just fine.” Another pause to get his emotions in check. “I miss you, Kimberly.”
Mitch cursed. Now he was talking to dirt.
He pushed up to stand as an empty feeling engulfed him, threatening to drag him under and toss him around before spitting him out again like a deadly riptide.
Pain made him feel alive after being hollow inside for months. The ache in his chest every time he took in air was the only reminder he was still breathing.
A prickly feeling ran up the back of his neck, like when someone said a cat walked over a grave.
Mitch didn’t do emotions, so why the hell were his like a race car at full speed, careening out of control and toward the wall today? His baby sister’s words from last year kept winding through his thoughts, drowning out logic and reason, the two things he was good at.
What if she’s alive? What if she’s still out there?
Mitch touched the grave marker, dragging his fingers across the smooth granite and into the grooves made by the letters of Kimberly’s name.
And then he tucked his feelings down deep before texting Lone Star Lonnie that he was on his way to check out the heifer before it rained.
Walking away from his wife’s grave was especially tough today. His thoughts were heavy as he made his way to the base of Rushing Creek, on the northeast side of the property.
Even though he’d prepared for the worst, the site still caught him off guard. Blood was everywhere. His heifer was on her right side in a pool of red on flat land. There was no sign of a trap that could’ve taken off her hoof and messed up her leg like that. She’d bled out and that would’ve been a slow death.
Anger roared through him as he thought about how much she’d suffered. It was inhumane to do this to an animal. Lone Star Lonnie had downplayed the situation with the heifer, Mitch thought as he stood over her.
Everything inside him felt as torn up and drained as the lifeless heifer next to him.
Whoever had done this would be brought to justice.
The pitch-black night sky was a dark canopy overhead. Thick clouds smothered the moon, blocking out any possibility of light. Rain came down in sheets. The conditions were a problem. There’d be tracks. Kimberly couldn’t afford to leave a trail or any sign she’d been there.
If the storm continued, there’d be no issue. Flash floods were common in this area of Texas and could wash away her hiking-boot prints. If the weather dried up, anyone could follow her based on the imprints she made.
She stepped lightly, careful to weave through the low-hanging branches rather than break them—again another way to track her movements. Being on the run had taught her to leave the smallest footprint possible. Leave a trace and someone would find her—the creeps following her had already proven that more than once. She’d racked her brain, thinking how they could’ve picked up her trail leading to the pediatrician’s office earlier.
Kimberly cursed under her breath as tears threatened. How could she have been so careless? So stupid?
Guilt nearly impaled her.
She couldn’t sit by and watch the only people she loved get hurt because of her. She had to make this right. She prayed that she could find the right words to convince Mitch to leave with the babies and disappear.
Seeing her alive would shock her husband. And he would hate her for what she’d done to him, to their family. Not that she could blame him. Sharp stabs of pain spiked through her, because she would feel the same way if the situation was reversed.
That wouldn’t stop—couldn’t stop—her from doing what she needed to do.
Being on the ranch brought back other memories. Memories that punched her in the stomach. Memories of being under this same sky on a starlit evening with Mitch’s arms around her, feeling like she could slay her fears and stay right there for the rest of her life. Then there were all of those Sunday-morning breakfasts in bed after passionate nights.
They’d when she’d rented a cabin on Lake Orion. On her weekly trip into town for supplies was when she’d first seen him. She’d been at the lake for a couple of days already and had worn her hair down around her face, a light cotton T-shirt and a simple pair of jeans with tennis shoes.
Mitch had come up behind her while she stood in line with her small cart filled with everything she’d need for two weeks for a single person. He didn’t speak to her right away, but she turned to look at him the minute she felt the strong male presence. It seemed like every single woman in the place came over to say hello while he stood in line behind Kimberly. Mitch was handsome—no question about that—but he also had a sexual appeal that made women blush when they spoke to him. The pitch in their voices raised and it was so easy to tell they were flirting.
Kimberly thought her eyes would roll into the back of her head when one of the women nearly knocked over the media stand while she complimented his boots. There’d been so much bemusement in his voice—a deep voice that trailed down the sensitive skin of her neck and wrapped around her—when he thanked the woman that Kimberly had almost
