Addison Fox - Colton's Surprise Heir

“That’s what was odd. Not only was my boss excited, she wanted to throw me a shower. Said this was happy news and that I’d make a great mother.”

She saw the confusion stamped on Ethan’s face and knew it was a match for her own. The conversation she’d dreaded from the moment she’d discovered her pregnancy had instead confirmed she’d been working for the right employer. The office consistently preached work-life balance and family values, and their reaction had only confirmed that ethos.

They were happy for her.

“So what’s with the notes? It doesn’t sound like anyone has an ax to grind.”

“A few weeks after my pregnancy became office news, the notes started. I’d waited until I’d passed my first trimester, but you can only hide the proof for so long.” A small laugh bubbled up at that, the maternity clothes she’d purchased early on a giveaway of her condition, even to the few who hadn’t heard the news. “As I said, my boss was excited, and once I gave her the okay to mention it, all she could talk about was baby clothes and a shower and stuffed animals.”

“Is it possible someone at the office got jealous? Maybe someone who couldn’t have a child? Joy in others often makes what we can’t have even worse.”

“I don’t think so. I mean, we’re a relatively young staff and several other coworkers have had babies or the fathers have taken paternity leave. There’s nothing out of the ordinary in being pregnant.”

“Did you keep the notes?”

“Not right away. The first couple I threw away. I know it was stupid, but I didn’t want to give them any credence or an ounce of my time. But after I got a few more I took them to the police.”

“Did they put someone on your case? Someone who could watch out for you?”

“For a few days, but when nothing else manifested they had to prioritize something more important.”

“That’s a load of bull. You were obviously threatened.”

“And they tried. A detective came to work and asked questions, and several officers drove by my home. But what were they supposed to do, Ethan? The threats stopped for a while, but they can’t watch out for me indefinitely.”

“What about the flowers? Did the detective follow that lead?”

“Yes, and it was a dead end. The florist was questioned, but the payment was in cash and the name given for the sender ended up being fake.”

Ethan snorted at that, his disgust palpable. While she was inclined to agree with him—especially staring down a series of creepy notes—she also knew the police had to deal with real cases.

Real victims.

Until the last one.

“They’ve called several times since to check on me, but once the rattle came I’d had enough.”

“What did the good detective say about that one?”

“It was hard for him to say anything.”

“Why’s that? You had evidence. Something that likely had prints.”

“I’m sure it didn’t. The few notes they analyzed had no fingerprints. Whoever’s doing this has been careful. Besides, it didn’t matter.” A hard shiver gripped her despite the warmth of the room. “The rattle disappeared.”

“What? When?”

“Two nights ago. When I got home from work. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I left it on my kitchen counter, but when I got home it was gone.”

“Do you have a security system?”

His simple, direct questions calmed her, and she focused on his words. On answering each query instead of on the reality of what she was dealing with. A monster.

“I never saw the point. I don’t live in anything extravagant.”

“You’re a woman alone. You should have protection.”

“I realize that now. But I quit the next morning and packed up my stuff. I can’t afford to leave my job, but I can’t stay. I can’t, Ethan. I can’t.”

The panic she’d managed to hold at bay reached up to swamp her, the shivers turning into coarse waves of terror.

Someone wanted to harm her baby.

And they had no problem going through her to reach their goal.

* * *

Erica Morgan dug her keys out of her purse and hotfooted it through the crisp early morning air. Why did the parking lot of the Granite Gulch Saloon always look so forlorn and empty in the daylight?

Even with the vivid blue sky overhead, the gray gravel parking lot seemed to suck up Mother Nature’s attempts at brightening the day.

A wicked gust of wind kicked up and she ignored a hard shudder as she stuck the key into the lock of her old pickup. Wow, was it freaking cold. February had been a bitch so far, and the weather reports suggested they were in for at least another week of the bone-chilling cold. All she wanted was her bed and the thriller whose pages still beckoned from her bedside table.

She could have been wrapped up in her grandmother’s old quilt already if she hadn’t volunteered to do inventory after closing. But the owner paid well for the overtime, and besides the thriller, it wasn’t as if she had much else to do.

Of course, she hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the back office, either. The sound of crunching gravel outside the window had finally woken her up and it had taken her several moments to figure out where the heck she was with her cheek stuck to a clipboard.

Erica shook her head and stuffed a free hand in her pocket while she jiggled the lock. Stupid truck.

The lock finally flipped open, and she jumped into the cab that was nearly as cold as the outside temperature. The only saving grace was the absence of wind. The engine turned over a few times before finally catching, and she slammed the heat on high, not even remotely hopeful her old beater would be warm by the time she pulled into her spot in front of her apartment.

She gave the truck a moment to warm up and considered the noise that had finally brought her awake. What was outside Hal’s office at eight in the morning? Unwilling to stick around and make an introduction to some Texas wildlife, she’d left Hal a note to check her numbers on the new keg orders and headed out. She’d have to remember to tell him about whatever it was sneaking around—coyotes, probably—she thought as she put the pickup into Drive.

The early morning sun caught on something in the distance, and she hit the brake. Leaning forward over the steering wheel, she tried to make sense of the flash she’d seen.

A mirror?

The light flashed once more, and she had the vague sense of a pair of binoculars before it vanished.

Without stopping to question why, Erica slammed her hand over her door lock and peeled out of the parking lot. She just needed to get home.

And once she did—once she was wrapped up in Nana’s quilt—she’d think about what she saw.

And then she’d tell Hal there was someone creeping around outside the Granite Gulch Saloon.

Chapter 3

Ethan shoved his feet back into his work boots, his conversation with Lizzie louder than crashing cymbals in his head.

A stalker had threatened her. The police were about as helpful as they usually were. And he was going to be a father.

“It’s certainly been a hell of a morning, Colton.”

He finished tying off his laces and got to his feet, embarrassed to be caught talking to himself when he saw Lizzie standing at the entry to the kitchen. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry.”

“For speaking the truth? I can hardly blame you for that, Ethan.”

“I don’t usually do that.” He wasn’t crazy, and he hated anything that might make him appear as if he was.

“I talk to myself all the time. Most of the time I’m better company than the majority of people I know.”

Ethan couldn’t quite resist her wry grin and once again was struck by how enticing she was. Sunlight spilled through the mudroom, highlighting her features. She was too tall to be considered delicate, yet there was something ethereal about her. As if she were made of spun sugar and would float away at the slightest touch.