Chapter Seven
Blaize slipped around the perimeter of the house, searching for any signs of life.
Crickets chirped along with the usual sounds of night in the country.
He didn’t see any movement other than trees bending to the heavy wind gusts.
Stacks of old paint cans next to the back door had been scattered like bowling pins.
He couldn’t remember if it had been like that earlier but suspected it wasn’t.
Heavy rain meant wet soil, making footprints next to impossible to stick. Besides, he would have walked all over them by now anyway. The mud would mold them together.
And that was if someone was out here. His thoughts snapped to the hoodie-wearing individual from earlier. This person made the most sense. And then he considered the names Carys had given the sheriff as possible suspects.
He made a mental note to ask more about them in the morning.
Everyone needed to get a good night of sleep so they could wake up early and get cracking.
If the threat had moved closer to the house, he intended to figure out who the hell was behind it and stop them before someone got hurt.
He would never forgive himself if harm came to Kit.
Carys might’ve been a firecracker on the outside, but her devotion to protecting a child she didn’t know more than twenty-four hours ago said she had a soft side that the hard shell was no doubt meant to protect.
Sounds of the baby crying penetrated through the back door as he opened it. He resisted the urge to run toward her. Instead, he glanced around the room, surprised when he didn’t see Carys next to the child. His eyes had adjusted to the dark, making it easy to see clearly.
It dawned on him that someone could be inside the house. They could be holding Carys hostage. She wouldn’t leave the baby alone, crying without good reason.
Taking a step inside, the floorboard creaked underneath his weight.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a figure leaping at him from around the bottom cabinet. The glint of metal caught his eye. A knife.
Survival instinct took over. He brought his forearm up to block his face.
Carys’s face came into view, a panicked look in her eyes. It was as though her brain and hand disconnected. Her face read Stop. Her arm kept going.
Blaize ducked in time to miss the swipe. He sidestepped her, grabbing her wrist after her hand passed above his hair.
“Are you trying to give me a haircut?” He managed to growl the words at her.
On some level, he realized that she was in full-on defensive mode.
He’d seen how protective she’d been with the baby first and then his grandmother.
Still. She’d known he was outside and would then presumably come back in.
She should’ve been more careful because he had no intention of ending up in the hospital. “Or brain surgery?”
“I’m sorry,” she said through a gasp. “I didn’t know it was you, and I wasn’t sure if anything happened. And then Rue started crying.” Her gaze darted from him to the baby. She held up a hand before rushing over to console the little thing.
For something so tiny, she sure had a great pair of lungs.
She plugged the kid up with some type of rubber contraption. He’s seen them before but had no idea what they were called. This was one of many reasons he probably shouldn’t be a father.
When his wife became sick, the possibility had been stripped from him.
He’d made his peace with it, figuring he would never love again.
A family was a lot of work. To his mind, he knew he couldn’t keep a kid alive for the first few years without a partner to do it with.
He had a ton of respect for anyone doing it alone.
Single parents were rock stars in his book.
“There,” Carys said with a satisfied smile, bringing his thoughts back to the present. She bit back a yawn.
“You should get some sleep,” he said, hearing the grumpy tone in his own voice.
Damn if she didn’t rattle him in ways he wasn’t ready to face.
Better to snap at her than kiss her again because the temptation was a real threat.
From now on, he’d maintain a safe distance. Physically. Emotionally. Mentally.
“You, too,” Carys said softly, still staring at the baby. “She’s an angel.”
His gaze stayed trained on Carys. “I couldn’t agree more.”
He thought about telling her about looking for a picture of Stephanie Cross on social media to jog a memory and decided the update could wait until morning. “How often does one of those things wake up in the middle of the night?”
Carys exhaled a slow breath. “I have no idea. I guess we’ll figure it out together.”
He liked the sound of those words a little too much for his own good. “Will you take her to bed with you?”
“I think that’s best for tonight.”
Kit yelled out in her sleep from the living room. Blaize made a beeline for his grandmother. He checked her over as her eyelids fluttered, couldn’t find anything immediately concerning. A bad dream?
He should get her to her own room where she’d be more comfortable. As he scooped her up, he realized she’d had an accident. The back of her pants was wet.
He’d seen worse. Cleaned up worse.
Kit’s eyes fluttered open. Her face soured. “Cormac. What’s going on with you? Who is here with you?”
“It’s your grandson Blaize. Remember?” There was no way he wanted her thinking her son was here. Cormac couldn’t keep a cactus alive in the sun.
“What?” Kit tried to focus her eyes but appeared to be struggling. “What are you doing here?”
He carried her to a secondary bedroom. Cormac had moved her once he took over the ranch, and it was one of many reasons Blaize and his brothers didn’t visit.
They didn’t like setting foot in Cormac’s home.
When Blaize stopped by before Lynn got sick, he would stay outside for the duration of the visit.
If he did step in the house, it was to go to the bathroom or grab a cup of coffee in the kitchen.
The thought of his grandmother being kicked out of her own bedroom made him angry to this day. Your mother deserved better from you, asshole.
If Blaize’s mother had been interested in more than a drinking buddy, he would have done anything for the woman.
By age seventeen, he’d lost track of her.
She’d gotten into harder substances and didn’t exactly keep up a social media page or a steady phone number for that matter.
She had, however, tracked him down on his nineteenth birthday to ask for a loan.
Made some excuse about not getting paid for another week and needing food.
Fool that he’d been at that age, he had believed she remembered his birthday and called for that reason. Nope. She wanted money. Wanted him to send it via an app. He ended the call telling her not to reach out again. She hadn’t.
He cut across the hallway to the adjacent bathroom. The air was still moist from the shower Carys had taken earlier, and the scent of lavender shampoo filled his senses. He balanced on one leg and managed to close the commode lid before setting Kit down.
“Go on. I can manage from here,” she instructed. Was she embarrassed to get undressed in front of him? Of course she was. Kit was prideful.
How could he manage to help her and salvage her pride—pride that had no doubt taken a hit when she lost her bladder. It wasn’t a big deal to him, but he understood.
“What can I grab for you from the bedroom?” he asked, realizing she would dig her heels in.
“My gowns are in the top drawer and my undergarments are in the smaller one right below it.” She sat with her back straight despite being mortified. Her tell came in the form of her chin quivering. Eyes straight ahead, she refused to look directly at him.
Telling her that he understood would do no good. So, he excused himself to head across the hall.
Carys was already pulling out the items. She held them out. “Here you go.”
Damned if he didn’t have to fight himself to keep from kissing her again.
STANDING IN A bedroom alone with Blaize shouldn’t have been the most intimate moment she’d had in too long. But it was.
As Carys handed over the clothing, their fingers grazed.
An electric jolt shocked her, sending volts shooting through her hand, her wrist, up her arm.
Warming her. Blaize was pure sex. Everything about him was perfection.
Like how his hands were calloused and rough but surprisingly tender to the touch.
He stood there for a moment like he was trying to process what had just happened, too.
And then he turned and walked out, hanging his head low. Shame?
She hoped he didn’t feel remorse for the attraction that was happening between them.
Hadn’t she read something about survivor’s guilt in cases like his?
She remembered the person could feel guilty for secretly being glad their loved one’s pain was over.
Could meeting someone trigger more guilt? Sharing a kiss?
It dawned on her that theirs might have been the first one since losing his wife.
Rather than try to figure out what someone else was thinking, she moved next door to where she’d left a sleeping Rue.
Carys climbed underneath the covers, closed her eyes, and then crashed.
By the time she opened her eyes again hours later, sun filtered through the slats in the mini blinds. How long had she been asleep?
She immediately sat up to check on Rue. The baby’s carrier was gone, the baby gone with it.
A moment of panic slammed into her. The door was closed. She threw the covers off and opened it before stepping into the hall and listening.
The low hum of voices drifted toward her from the kitchen. There was not a peep from Rue.
Carys headed straight toward the bathroom, almost tripped over the neatly folded clothes at her feet. What was this? She picked them up. Her clothes? Washed, dried, and folded?
She headed into the bathroom, used the facilities, and cleaned up before dressing. A toothbrush had been laid out for her, along with toothpaste. Basically, heaven.
As soon as she dressed, she moved to the kitchen. The smell of fresh brew hit her senses from halfway down the hall. Her stomach growled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so deeply or woken up so starved.
Rounding the corner to the kitchen, her heart skipped a couple of beats. She stopped, put a hand on the wall to steady herself. Seeing Blaize hold Rue while he talked quietly with an adoring grandmother caused her ovaries to squeeze. It would be helpful if the man could be more of a jerk.
“Morning,” she said as she walked into the room.
“Morning to you,” Blaize said with a smile that released half a dozen butterflies in her stomach. He had on jeans and a black T-shirt.
“Hello,” Kit practically chirped. Her mood had drastically improved. “Grab some coffee and come sit with us.”
Carys wasn’t so sure that was a good idea. It felt a little too much like a family scene. Considering her background, she would probably say or do something to mess it up. Plus, she needed to get her CPS agent hat back on.
“Mind if I talk a walk first?” she asked, stalling for time so she could come up with a better reason. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Kit’s feelings. The woman had been nothing but welcoming and kind.
Blaize shot a look. The reason dawned on her. He didn’t think it was safe for her to be outside alone. He stood up and gently handed Rue over to Kit.
“Finally my turn with this sweet little girl.” Kit beamed.
“I’ll go with you,” he said.
She knew better than to argue if she wanted to stretch her legs to counter all the sitting she’d done yesterday. Normally, she would go on a run in the morning, but she didn’t know the area. A walk was more manageable. How lost could she get?
Of course, Blaize would know the area.
“One sec,” he said before leaving the room. When he came back, he had a gun tucked inside a waist holster that was clipped onto his jeans. The reminder of the danger they were in sobered her. “Ready?”
As much as she’d ever be.
“Let’s go,” she said, leading the way out the back door.
Once outside, she saw paint cans scattered around the back of the house.
“They might have been the cause of the noise last night,” Blaize said after following her gaze. “Could have been a raccoon trying to climb them or searching for food.”
“Makes sense.”
They walked quietly for a while.
“I tried to find her last night and came up empty,” he said. “Stephanie Cross isn’t on social media that I could find, but that could be a married name.”
“You don’t remember anyone named Stephanie?”
“No.”
They walked around the perimeter of the yard. A cool breeze caused her to shiver. If the weather dipped below seventy-five degrees, she threw on a sweater. Growing up in south Texas had a way of making you a wimp when it came to colder temperatures.
“Given it’s Saturday, I’m at a loss as to getting more information about her,” she said. “I’m waiting on the sheriff’s report, but with the…conditions of the crash, we might never get a positive ID.”
“That doesn’t leave Rue in limbo?”
“It would only matter if a parent claimed her, which I was hoping you would do, but since you admitted to not having sex during that time Rue’s status is up in the air.”
“What if I just let it ride?”
“You mean keep her?” she asked, not hiding her shock. “You would do that?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
After the way she’d seen him with Rue this morning, it was a thought. She’d already bent the rules in this case. Could she look the other way on something as big as paternity?
No. Now what?