Joan Johnston - Shattered

“J.D.’s in Brazil?” Her husband had threatened to kidnap her sons and take them to South America if she didn’t pay him a quarter of a million dollars to get out of her life, but she’d been shot before she could ask one of her grandfathers for the money. Although Kate was the daughter and granddaughter of wealthy men and women, J.D. had gambled away her personal trust fund within a few years after she’d gotten control of it when she turned twenty-five.

However, J.D.’s mother had given him $250,000 in “hush money” which he’d presumably used to disappear. The governor didn’t want the world to know her son was a live deserter, rather than a dead war hero.

Kate’s greatest fear, before Wyatt Shaw had shown up on her doorstep, was that J.D. would return, once again threatening to steal Lucky and Chance, and demanding money that she didn’t have to disappear. “Do you know where J.D. is now?” she asked.

“No. But there are dangerous men out there looking for him.”

“Dangerous men?” Kate asked, confused. Your men? she wondered.

“Your husband was trading military weapons for heroin in Afghanistan.”

Kate gasped. She’d known J.D. was in trouble. He’d hinted as much to her when he’d shown up in her kitchen last fall looking gaunt and ragged a year after she’d supposedly buried his remains. But she’d never suspected him of doing anything so awful. “How do you know that?”

Shaw ignored the question and continued, “Your husband blew up that ammo dump in Afghanistan—and faked his death—to avoid paying the consequences for skimming profits on the arms-for-heroin deals he was negotiating between parties here in the States and the Taliban. He absconded with twenty million dollars worth of heroin that didn’t belong to him.

“There are people who intend to find him, get back their product—or the cash he got for selling it—and make an object lesson of your husband.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“The bad guys are closing in on J.D.”

“How do you know all this?”

He lifted a dark brow as though the answer should be obvious, although it wasn’t to Kate. Did he know about J.D.’s situation because he, personally, was chasing him? Or was it some other criminal element with whom Shaw had close ties, like his father, Dante D’Amato?

“Suffice it to say, you and your—our—sons aren’t safe with your husband on the loose.”

Kate lifted her chin. “The man I’ve been seeing is a Texas Ranger. He’ll be happy to protect me.”

“Who’s that?”

Kate debated whether to tell him, then decided it was better not to bring Jack into this. “None of your business.”

Kate didn’t like the look in Shaw’s eyes. He had no right to be jealous. Or possessive. But she didn’t want to exacerbate the situation, so she said, “Nevertheless, this man is willing, and able, to keep an eye on me and my sons. His divorce will be final any day now and—”

“He’s planning to move in?”

Kate heard the challenge in Shaw’s gravelly voice, watched as his eyes narrowed and his hands formed into powerful fists. It seemed safest to say, “We haven’t planned that far ahead.”

She was still looking forward to making love to Jack for the first time. They’d been on the verge of consummating their relationship last fall—kissing in the hall, on the way to her bedroom—when Jack had been called away to confront a killer. Shortly thereafter, Kate had been shot. She’d only recently come home.

So, despite the fact she’d first attempted to seduce Jack ten years ago, when she was nineteen, she still had no idea what kind of lover he was. Which was surprising, when Kate thought about it, because she’d gone to bed with Wyatt Shaw within thirty minutes of meeting him.

Kate felt her breasts peak at the memory of his mouth on her naked flesh. She quickly lowered her gaze, mortified at where her thoughts had led her. Again.

She made herself picture Jack’s beloved face instead. She imagined his dark brown eyes looking down at her, imagined her fingers threading through his sun-streaked chestnut hair. Jack was tall, like Shaw, but his skin was burnished by wind and sun. She ached to have Jack kiss her, touch her, in places where… Where Wyatt Shaw already had.

“You can’t marry anyone so long as J.D. is still alive,” Shaw said, interrupting her disconcerting thoughts. “The way I see it, right now—and for the foreseeable future—my sons don’t have adequate protection.”

“My sons,” Kate automatically corrected, her chin lifting pugnaciously, “are my responsibility.” When Shaw continued to stare at her, she grudgingly corrected, “All right. Our sons are my responsibility. I don’t want or need your help.”

“The danger is real.”

He sounded concerned. But the fact was, they were strangers who, a long time ago, had found solace—and physical pleasure—in each other’s arms. An image of herself trembling as she watched Shaw’s callused fingertips stroke downward across her flat belly flashed in Kate’s mind. She made a growling sound in her throat, angry that memories of herself in bed with Shaw were so unforgettable.

“You’d all be safer if you came to live with me in Houston until J.D. is found,” Shaw said.

“That’s out of the question.”

“My compound is surrounded by high stone walls. I have twenty-four-hour security cameras and guards with dogs that patrol the perimeter.”

“That sounds more like a prison than a home,” Kate snapped.

“Lucky and Chance…”

When he paused, Kate saw his throat working. It was the first time he’d said his sons’ names since he’d shoved his way into her home. Apparently, it had affected him deeply.

But Kate couldn’t afford to sympathize, couldn’t afford to glamorize or glorify his appearance on her doorstep. She didn’t dare feel anything for Wyatt Shaw. She was fighting for her children’s lives. If Shaw had his way, she and her sons would be imprisoned behind high stone walls. She wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Legally, J.D. Pendleton is my sons’ father. You provided the seed. That was all. You have no legal rights where Lucky and Chance are concerned. None. I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help. My sons—yes, my sons,” she repeated in a fierce voice, “have managed fine without you in their lives for eight years. And they’re far more likely to grow into fine young men if you never come anywhere near them.”

Shaw’s face blanched.

Kate felt a pang of remorse for hurting him. And ruthlessly quelled it. What did he expect? His reputation had preceded him. No mother would willingly expose her children to a man like Wyatt Shaw. He was the antithesis of Jack McKinley. One man was an outlaw, the other a lawman. There was no question in her mind who would make the better father.

She took a deep breath and said, “I’d like you to leave.”

Kate expected Shaw to argue. Expected him to threaten. Expected him to point out all the reasons why his suggestion was the best way, the only way, to keep her children safe. But he did none of those things.

He simply said, “Goodbye, Kate.” Then he turned and walked to the door. He opened it, glanced back over his shoulder, and said, “I’ll be in touch.”

Kate hurried across the living room to close and lock the door behind him. But she didn’t feel the least bit safe.

I’ll be in touch.

What did that mean? Kate’s stomach cramped as she realized how vulnerable her sons were. All Shaw had to do was intercept them at school. Or after they got off the bus.

Kate’s heart was lodged in her throat. She had to call the boys’ school. She had to warn them that her sons weren’t safe. She had to retrieve Lucky and Chance before Wyatt Shaw made his move. Because she was certain that once Shaw had her sons behind high stone walls, he would never give them back.