WANTED (4 page)

“The Rangers got an anonymous tip that you’re trying to influence the Webb murder investigation.”

Ah, man. He didn’t need this. “No, someone else is trying to influence it.” And maybe already had. “Look, this is too complicated to get into over the phone—”

“Does it have anything to do with Lyla Pearson, the assistant director of the San Antonio CSU?”

That sent an uneasy feeling knifing through him. “It does. Why? Other than the fact that she didn’t get a real service call from the electric company, what do you know about her?”

“According to the criminal informant I just talked to, she’s in big trouble, Wyatt, and you should avoid her at all costs.”

“Too late.”

Declan cursed. “You’re with her?”

“Yeah. Now why don’t you tell me why that’s a bad idea?” Wyatt insisted.

“Because according to the informant, by going to her, you just signed her death warrant.”

Chapter Four

Death warrant.

Those two words kept going through her head, and each time, they robbed Lyla of her breath. Not that her breath was anywhere near steady yet, despite the several hours they’d spent at the sheriff’s office and hospital getting her checkup. All was well with the baby, thank goodness, but it might be a while before she could rein in this feeling of panic. Her racing heartbeat, too. And the adrenaline crash.

Yes, she had that going on, as well.

Despite the clean bill of health from her obstetrician, none of this stress could be good for the baby. But then, neither were those bullets.

It was the too-fresh memory of those bullets and those two words,
death warrant,
that had made Lyla get in the truck with Wyatt after they’d finished giving their statements to the deputy.

Now she was debating that decision to allow him to place her in his protective custody. She wasn’t thinking straight, but what she did know was that Wyatt seemed to want to keep her alive and safe. And he seemed capable of doing that.

Capable of wrecking her life, too.

But maybe once she got all of this sorted out, there’d be no need for protection. No need to dodge gunmen lurking on her ranch.

“You’re sure this criminal informant was telling the truth about the death threat?” she asked. “Because if he’s a criminal, how can you trust him?”

“He’s getting paid to spill his guts, and if what he spills is a lie, then the payments dry up.” He paused, mumbled some profanity. “Unfortunately, this guy’s reliable, and he said somebody’s got their eye on you.”

“But he didn’t know who.” It wasn’t a question. Lyla had already pressed Wyatt on that when he’d first told her about the threat. “Then how could the criminal informant know anything about the other details if he doesn’t even know the person’s identity?”

“Bad people talk. Sometimes too much, and this guy plays a fly on the wall so he can make money. He says someone’s going to force you to cooperate with altering evidence, and if it doesn’t work out, then you’ll be eliminated.
Dead,
” he clarified.

Even if the informant had lied, she wasn’t immune to just the threat of it. Mercy, how had things gotten this far out of control?

“I should be in San Antonio P.D.’s protective custody,” she tossed out there. “Not yours.”

He spared her a glance with those intense blue eyes but kept his attention on the rural road that would take them to his family’s ranch.

Which she was certain wasn’t a good idea at all.

“Those guys took shots at me, and that makes this federal now.”

It was weird. Though he’d practically barked that at her, his voice was far from a bark. Everything that came out of Marshal McCabe’s mouth seemed smooth as silk. And genuine. Yes, he was a charmer, all right. Even when he was accusing her of assorted crimes.

Like stealing the embryo that belonged to him and his late wife.

“You can’t possibly want me at your family’s home,” she reminded him.

“I don’t. But I don’t want you dead, either. And right now, I’m your best shot at not being dead.”

Even that came out as an easy drawl, but it still slammed into her. She couldn’t die. Couldn’t be shot. Because anything that happened to her, happened to her precious baby, as well. But somehow, someway, she had to distance herself from this silver-tongued cowboy lawman. Once she was at the ranch, she’d need to start making calls to arrange for some private security. And a bodyguard or two.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” he added a moment later. “If I hadn’t uncovered what was going on, the person behind this wouldn’t have ordered a hit on you. At least not until you’d done everything they want you to do.”

None of that was reassuring, especially the last part. “But what do they want me to do?”

“I don’t know yet. But it won’t be legal, and doing it won’t necessarily keep you alive. Right now, I’m your best shot for staying in one piece.”

Again, not reassuring, since it was obvious he distrusted her. Probably hated her, too, because he still had his doubts about her involvement in all of this. She wasn’t sure if she even wanted to address that or just make those calls to get her out of there.

Wyatt took the turn toward the ranch, and moments later the house came into view. Except,
house
didn’t seem the right word to describe something that size. She’d heard of Kirby Granger’s spread, of course, but she hadn’t expected this. Miles and miles of pastures. Hundreds of Angus cows. And she spotted four barns, along with a small house and another massive brick one that looked as if it’d recently been built. Yet another one was under construction.

Heaven knew how many people and buildings were on the parts of the property she couldn’t see.

Wyatt pulled to a stop directly in front of the main house, where there were several ranch hands milling around, all armed. A middle-aged woman with graying red hair stepped out.

“Declan called,” she greeted them, the worry obvious in her voice. “He said someone shot at you.”

But Wyatt just shrugged. Like his voice, it seemed to be an easy drawl, too. There was certainly no crazy panic in his body language, but Lyla was sure there was plenty in hers.

“The others call Wyatt a bullet magnet,” the woman added, glancing at Lyla.

Lyla’s gaze whipped to him. “Why do they call you that?”

Wyatt frowned. “Why do you think?”

“Oh, God,” she mumbled.

“God’s probably the only one who hasn’t taken a shot at me yet.”

The woman gave him a scolding look. “His brothers say he’s a bullet magnet because someone’s always trying to mess up his pretty face. But they don’t say that around me. They know I don’t like joking about stuff like that.”

She came closer when Lyla and Wyatt made it onto the porch, and she slipped her arm around Lyla’s waist. “I’m Stella Doyle, a friend of the family. I take care of Wyatt and the others when they let me.”

“The others?” Lyla asked.

“Wyatt’s foster brothers. Dallas, Clayton, Harlan and Slade. Mine and Kirby’s own son, too—Declan. They’re all marshals like Wyatt here, and they’re all my boys.”

Wyatt brushed a kiss on the woman’s cheek. “Where’s everyone?”

“Dallas took the womenfolk and Clayton’s baby to his and Joelle’s place.” She tipped her head in the direction of the new house, which Lyla had noticed. “He said he talked to you about that.”

“He did. I just thought it’d be better if there were fewer people here tonight. Is Harlan with them?”

Stella nodded. “Slade, too. You’re expecting some kind of trouble?”

“Trying to prevent it.” Wyatt glanced at the curvy dark-haired woman who was sweeping the porch. A maid, no doubt. “When’d you hire her?” he asked Stella.

“Last week. Why?”

“I just want the ranch on lockdown for a while. Give her and any other new help a few paid days off. That includes ranch hands.”

Stella gave an uneasy nod, and she wasn’t the only one who was uneasy. It hit Lyla then. If someone had been watching her, then maybe they’d done the same to Wyatt. With all the activity going on, it would be easy to get someone onto a ranch this size.

“And now I need help with our guest,” Wyatt continued. “This is Lyla Pearson, and she’ll be staying with us for a while.”

Stella volleyed glances at both of them. “Your girl?” she asked Wyatt.

“Yes,” Wyatt said at the exact moment that Lyla blurted out, “No.”

Lyla was about to ask why he’d told such a lie, but Wyatt just shot an uneasy look at the woman sweeping, took Lyla by the arm and got her inside.

“Later,” he added to her in a whisper when Lyla opened her mouth to ask about that whopper. He looked at Stella again. “I need a couple of the ranch hands to go out to Lyla’s place and take care of her horses.”

“I can do that myself,” she insisted.

“Those gunmen might return.” And that was all he had to say to put her heart in her throat. She loved her little house. The only home she’d ever had, and now she couldn’t go back.

Maybe ever.

It might never feel safe there.

“Her address is in the glove compartment of my truck,” Wyatt explained to Stella. “But tell the ranch hands to go there armed. Just in case.”

Stella’s eyes widened a little, but Lyla didn’t think it was so much from surprise as from fear or dread. Heaven knew how many incidents like this the woman had gone through, living with six active marshals and a retired one.

“Come on,” Wyatt told her. And it took Lyla a moment to realize he’d shifted the conversation to her. “You’re staying with me until further notice.”

Wyatt didn’t give her time to disagree with that order. With his grip still firm on her arm, he ambled them through the maze of halls and to a home office. His, judging from the way he ushered her inside, closed the door and eased down in the seat behind the desk.

“Right about now, you’re thinking of running,” he said, and he proceeded to go through some emails on his laptop. “But you can’t.”

Lyla huffed. She was tired of this knight-in-shining-Stetson routine, especially since Wyatt didn’t seem the knight type. More like a pirate. A hot one.

Something she wished she hadn’t noticed.

Hard not to, though, with those rock-star looks and that devil-may-care attitude. This was exactly the kind of man she avoided.

But was attracted to anyway.

Lyla shoved that attraction aside, put her hands on his desk and leaned in to get right in his face. “I want answers, and I want them now.”

He held up his finger in a
wait a second
gesture and finished reading the email. “All my brothers are tied up with this shooting and the investigation. My brother Declan sent the camera to the crime lab,” he said when he finished reading whatever was on the screen. “I was right about it not having a memory card, but we might get some prints or trace. Plus, Declan might be able to track down who bought it. It’s not something available at the corner store.”

Good. That was a start, to find out who was behind this, but Wyatt went on to the next email, ignoring the fact that she was right in his face and wanting an explanation about his
yes
answer to Stella about her being his girl.

And why he believed she was carrying his child.

“My other brother Clayton is looking into who just hired Dean Mobley for his new civilian job with the watchdog group,” Wyatt went on. “But his new employer is actually a dummy corporation. A good front, though, and it won’t be hard to break through the layers, especially since it was probably set up just to hire him. It’ll disappear as soon as they’re finished with Mobley and you.”

She thought about that a moment. “How’d you know my boss would be offered this new job?”

“Criminal informant. The same one who said I’d signed your death warrant.”

The new info whirled through her head like a tornado, and even though Lyla wanted to appear strong and resolute, she wasn’t. To make matters worse, she had a sudden dizzy spell and would have sagged to the floor if Wyatt hadn’t caught her.

But he didn’t just catch her.

He scooped her up in his arms and deposited her on the leather sofa positioned in front of a massive wall of books.

“You need me to call a doctor?” he asked, going to the small fridge in the corner. He brought her back a bottle of water, and he opened it for her. The man certainly knew how to take control.

Something she had to put a stop to.

“No doctor. I just get dizzy sometimes.”

She wouldn’t mention the occasional morning sickness and these strange hormonal changes in her body. Sometimes she felt like crying her eyes out, and other times she felt like a randy teenager.

Heck, she hadn’t been a randy teenager even when she was in her teens.

Her body was playing one of those stupid hormone tricks on her now. Probably because Wyatt was there, just inches away, with his drop-dead-hot face looking down at her.

Like her earlier thoughts, she pushed that hormone surge aside, too.

She had help with that. Also practically right in her face was the photo on the end table. A beautiful woman in a wedding dress. Smiling from ear to ear, and her dreamy smile was directed to her equally dreamy husband.

Wyatt.

“My wife,” he explained, following her gaze. “Ann passed away two years ago from a rare blood disorder.”

“I’m sorry,” Lyla said, because she didn’t know what else to say. Words wouldn’t help the hurt that she still heard in his voice. But since he’d brought up his wife, it was time to start addressing the thousand-pound gorilla in the room.

“Why do you think I got your embryo?” she asked.

He did another of those effortless shrugs. “It went missing, and the theft was well hidden. The clinic didn’t discover it until last month. Since then, I’ve tried to locate every woman in the state who used a donor embryo to get pregnant. Only twenty-three.”

“That you know of,” she argued. “Maybe some clinics keep that private, since the law requires it.”

He gave her a flat look. “I am the law, and I was looking for something that belonged to me.”

Yes, and he’d obviously been tenacious. “There’s no proof I’m carrying your baby.”

“You’re the only one who makes sense. There was the wife of a high-level D.A. looking for a donor embryo, but the Webb investigation couldn’t have been shifted to him. You’re the only one who could affect the outcome of this case.”

She shook her head. “That still doesn’t prove it.”

“No, but a test would, and we’re lucky that you’ve already had an amnio.”

Lyla flinched. “How’d you know that?”

Another flat look. “I had someone look into your medical records.”

“You hacked them.”

“Yeah,” he readily admitted, and he wasn’t apologizing for it. “You had one done three weeks ago to rule out a uterine infection. You didn’t have an infection, but at your request the doctor didn’t provide you with other info.”

“I didn’t want to know if it was a boy or girl.”

“That’s fine. That’s not important anyway, but what is important is that test would have given me confirmation that you’re carrying my child.”