Native Cowboy (8 page)

“That was a long time ago,” Cara argued. “And I’m sorry for what happened to you, but times have changed.”

“Have they?” Mason barked.

Cara’s strength rallied. “This is the reason I didn’t tell you. That, and I didn’t want you to think I was trying to trap you.”

“No, you didn’t even try to convince me to stay.”

Cara gasped as her pride kicked in. “You wanted me to beg you not to leave me? That’s not my style.”

“No, you’re independent, aren’t you? You don’t need a man.”

“No, I don’t,” Cara said, furious. “I’ve managed on my own most of my life, and I will continue to do so.”

She gestured toward the steering wheel. “Now why don’t you drive me to the clinic so I can check those records, then we can go our separate ways for tonight.”

And maybe forever.

He could finish the investigation without her.

A dark chuckle reverberated from his chest. “For tonight, maybe,” Mason said. “But you’re crazy if you think this is over, Cara.” He gestured toward her stomach. “That baby is mine, and if he or she is in danger—” He paused. “Do you know if it’s a girl or a boy?”

Cara licked her suddenly dry lips. “A boy.”

Mason released a shaky sigh. “If my son is in danger, then I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Cara’s throat closed. God, no...she couldn’t have Mason around smothering her. Worrying about her.

Protecting her.

Making her want him all over again.

She had barely survived the first time he’d left.

* * *

M
ASON SAT FOR A MOMENT
digesting their conversation, unable to move or focus on anything except the fact that he was having a son.

With Cara.

The only woman who’d ever made him think twice about settling down. The only woman who stirred his blood with a fever pitch of lust and...other emotions he refused to acknowledge.

Because he was a cop first.

And dammit, he had a serious murder case to solve. One which involved Cara now more than he’d first realized.

One that potentially jeopardized her life as well as his son’s.

His heart raced. Damn. He couldn’t let anything happen to them.

“Mason—”

“Don’t bother arguing,” he said, cutting her off. “Until this maniac is caught, you’re going to have to put up with me. After the case is over...then we talk about what to do about our child.”

Cara’s breath caught, but he ignored her reaction and pulled back into traffic. She might not like it, but he didn’t intend to walk away from this baby.

Not like his father had walked away from him.

But what if he’s better off without you? Safer?

That thought made his gut constrict.

Nellie Thompson had thought she’d done the right thing by giving her baby to the Davidsons. And they obviously doted on the little girl and would give her a great life. She had been totally unselfish in her choice.

Yet she was dead.

And it was his job to find her killer.

He wouldn’t stop until he found justice for the woman and her demented killer was in jail where he belonged.

Cara rested her hands on her stomach as he drove, and he forced himself not to press the issue. They both needed time.

As far as he was concerned, the subject of his involvement was closed.

Traffic had thinned on the country roads, but as he neared the small town, headlights pierced the darkness. He wove through the streets until he reached the Winchester clinic, mentally making a note to call a security company in the morning. Even without this killer on the loose, he couldn’t allow her to continue working here with such poor security measures in place.

He parked in front of the clinic and cut the lights. “Let’s go in and you can look through the files, then get those letters,” he said. “Then I’ll follow you home.”

“Mason, that’s not necessary—”

“Cara,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to like it, but I will do my job. There is a madman out there who cut out Nellie’s reproductive organs. A man who may be after you, so like it or not, I’m your bodyguard.”

Emotions flitted across her face, then she seemed to concede but only because she looked exhausted, and he had pointed out the depravity of the killer.

She reached for the door handle, and this time he made it in time to help her out. One touch to her hand, and he felt an immediate connection, a charge of electricity that reminded him of all they had shared.

Cara looked startled for a moment, but she quickly masked it and lumbered toward the door. Jumping into detective mode, he scanned the area in search of trouble, then followed her inside.

The files that had been rifled through still looked scattered, the place dusty from the crime unit. She gathered them up and laid them on the front desk, then flipped through them with a frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t see anything missing so far.”

Mason scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Maybe the killer took photos of them or copied files from the computer.”

Panic darted in her eyes. “Then he has info on all my patients.”

“Don’t worry about it now,” Mason said, hating the alarm on her face. “For all we know the break-in wasn’t related.”

Cara didn’t look convinced.

“Now find those letters so I can drive you home.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear and stood, then walked to her office in the back.

Mason followed, his instincts on alert.

She unlocked a safe then removed a manila envelope from the inside.

“You saved them all?” he asked.

She nodded. “I thought I might need them, just in case there was trouble.”

“Smart thinking.” He took them from her, then helped her up from the chair. The fact that she didn’t protest told him she must be totally exhausted, or frightened, or in pain.

Or all three.

His lungs squeezed for air as they walked outside. She settled inside her Pathfinder, then drove from town, and he followed, his heart in his throat.

The image of Nellie’s mangled body taunted him.

Lord help him, he’d die before he’d let that happen to Cara, or allow anyone to hurt his son.

* * *

H
E TRACED A FINGER
down her slender throat, smiling at how easily she’d fallen for his charms. Of course, the alcohol she’d consumed had blurred her mind, but that had been her choice.

Not his.

He had been watching her for a week now and partying was an every night outing for her.

Tonight would be her last.

“Come here, lover boy,” she whispered against his neck.

The cheap motel lights glittered outside, blinking against the dingy sheers covering the window. Country music from the bar next door blared through the parking lot, echoing through the thin walls of the room and pulsing around them in a sickening thud.

That music would drown out her screams.

He smiled again, then slid the knife from his pocket and rose above her. She raked her fingers over his shirt and popped the buttons.

Disgust rose in his throat.

He refused to dirty himself with her filthy body.

Instead when she thought he was going to screw her, he jammed the knife into her belly and twisted it. Her scream pierced the air, lost in the wailing sound of the music.

Then blood spurted onto his hands and relief filled him. One more sinner had died for her sins.

Now on to another...

Chapter Seven

Mason clenched his jaw as he followed Cara across the BBL to her cabin. He was staying a couple of cabins over while he was here and had no idea how close he’d been to her.

If he had, would he have made an effort to see her?

No, he probably would have avoided her. Seeing her and not having her was just too damn hard.

When he’d first heard of the BBL, he’d known he had to join the group of ranchers who devoted time and money to help troubled boys. God knows he would have ended up nowhere if the men on the reservation hadn’t taken him under their wing. They had not only taught him how to hunt and fish, how to utilize tracking skills, but had also instilled a pride for his people and a tolerance for other nationalities.

The one golden rule—they had a zero tolerance policy against hurting women or children.

Night had set in, darkness bathing the ranch, the sound of night critters chirping and scrambling through the wooded areas echoing through the evening air. The campers had turned in by now, the camp counselors planning the next day’s events.

The image of the boys he’d met flashed in his mind. Their stories were all different yet held similarities that bonded them to this place. Broken families, abuse, crime, poverty, orphans...

A couple of the stories had broken his heart. TJ was six, had been in and out of the hospital because his father had beaten him so badly that now he walked with a limp and was skittish about getting close to anyone. Micky’s mother had left him in charge of his two younger brothers when he was only five. Finally when a neighbor caught the little guy stealing food from her pantry, she realized they had been left alone for almost a month. The mother had later been found dead in a crack house.

And little Deagan’s father had left him in a garbage can at two months after his wife had walked out.

He raked his hand over his chin. God, he’d never thought about being a father before, but there was no way he would walk out on his own kid.

He knew the pain that caused. The feeling of betrayal, of shame, of guilt and abandonment. Hadn’t he asked himself a thousand times why his father hadn’t loved him?

He’d assumed his mixed heritage was the reason, but deep down he’d believed he wasn’t...lovable.

He’d never let his kid think that.

Cara turned on to the road leading to the south end cabins, and they bypassed the area where Nellie’s car and body had been found. The image of Nellie’s stomach cut open haunted him.

Had she been on her way to see Cara? Had the killer known where she was going?

That thought sent a bolt of fear straight through him.

What if he was waiting on her now?

* * *

C
ARA’S NERVES WERE
on edge as she parked in front of her cabin. It had been a long day.

First she’d spent time at the clinic at the ranch, then at the Winchester clinic in town, then that horrible phone call about Nellie. Her back was aching, and she rubbed it as she grabbed her purse and hauled herself from the car.

Mason’s headlights loomed behind her as he rolled to a stop, and she fought the urge to rush inside and close the door, shutting him out.

Tonight had been too emotional. Nellie’s death. The clinic had been broken into.

And she’d finally been forced to tell the father of her child about their baby.

Fatigue clawed at her, but she gathered the last remnants of her pride and strength and walked up the porch steps. She had to make sure Mason knew she wasn’t trying to trap him into playing father.

Or husband to her.

That she would and could stand on her own.

The sound of Mason’s car door slamming echoed behind her, then his boots crunched gravel and pounded the wood boards as he climbed the steps. She felt his big body behind her, and his ominous presence tempted her to lean into him.

She was so tired tonight, so shaken by all that had happened, so drawn to him just as she had been when she’d first met him, that she wanted to fall into his arms and have him hold her and assure her everything would be all right.

But that was a fantasy, not reality, and she lived in the real world. Not only did she have to protect herself, she had to protect her son.

The keys jangled in her hand as she fumbled to unlock the door. Mason took them, then unlocked it for her.

“Thanks.” Cara turned to him, determined he leave before he stepped inside her space. Having him in her cabin, leaving his scent, his image in the rooms where she found solace, would only make her miss him more when he left.

“Cara, I was thinking,” Mason said. “If Nellie was coming to see you, her killer might know where you live.”

Cara sighed, too weary to contemplate his comment. “It’s been two days since he killed her, Mason. If he was coming after me, he would have done so by now.”

Mason’s face constricted. “We can’t be sure of that, Cara. He might have come to the clinic looking for you, got angry when you weren’t there and trashed the place in his rage.”

She shivered at the thought. “Thanks for following me home, Mason, but I’m tired. I just want to go to bed.”

A tense heartbeat passed between them, riddled with what she’d said. Her mind strayed to images of him following her, climbing into bed with her, holding her all night.

A second later, reality hit her with the force of another Braxton Hicks contraction. For goodness’ sakes, she was nine months pregnant, not exactly sexy. No man wanted to crawl in bed with a woman when she looked like a whale.

Besides, they had too much to discuss to even think about getting close and personal again.

Mason put a hand on the door to keep her from closing it. “Let me at least check out the cabin.”

Cara knew Mason well enough not to bother arguing. He hadn’t wanted a commitment with her, but he was totally committed to his job and took protecting others seriously.

She gestured for him to go in. “Fine, suit yourself.”

His gaze met hers as he brushed past her, the heat simmering between them igniting fantasies of smoldering kisses and wanton touches.

She banished them immediately. Those thoughts had gotten her pregnant in the first place.

She had no room for them in her life now.

* * *

M
ASON FELT
C
ARA’S BELLY
brush his stomach as he inched past her, and his pulse jumped. Normally a pregnant woman’s body wasn’t a turn on, but this was Cara and she was round with his child.

The realization that his little boy was growing inside her made him pause, and he was tempted to lay his hand on her belly. To feel his son move inside her.

But Cara sucked in a breath and took a step back, a warning in her eyes.

Dammit. She didn’t want him in her life. That was obvious.