Delores Fossen - Wanted

“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.”

It would. And that suddenly terrified her. If this was his baby, there was no chance this man would just back away. “I can call the doctor and ask for the results.” Even though that was the last thing she wanted to do.

She really had to get out of there, and she reached in her purse for her phone.

Wyatt stopped her again. “Your test results were stolen.”

Lyla looked up at him, blinked. “Wh-what?”

“Stolen,” he repeated. “The doctor hasn’t told you yet because I’m not sure he knows. The results went missing from the lab, but there’s another sample of the amniotic fluid. The thief didn’t manage to get that, because it was stored at a different location in case the doctor wanted it retested.”

Oh, God. All of this had gone on, and she hadn’t even known about it.

“I’m having that second sample of amniotic fluid tested,” Wyatt explained. But he wasn’t so calm and cool right now. A muscle flickered in his jaw. “And I should have the results in a day or two.”