Chapter 14
14
T ravis woke the next morning to the sun peeking through the slats in the miniblinds. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so hard or so long. He decided it was from the effects of the attack and not because Chloe lay in his arms.
Also, when had that happened?
They’d gone to sleep on opposite sides of the king-sized bed. How was her body nestled against him, skin-to-skin now? Other thoughts crowded that one out before he could come up with an answer. All he knew was that the world righted itself for one damn minute, and that minute was right now because of the beauty sleeping next to him.
Could he peel his arm off her without waking her up?
He glanced at the nightstand and saw that it was half past nine in the morning. He’d never slept so late. Not even the weather front had woken him.
His head felt fine until he moved it. Then, a wave of nausea rolled through. Water. Food. Coffee. And not necessarily in that order.
After slowly extracting himself from the covers and away from Chloe, he slipped into a pair of jeans before heading down the hall. In the kitchen, he checked out the window. Ice blanketed the streets. Everything else was covered in snow. The storm might have done them a huge favor by providing an uninterrupted night of sleep. Crime came to a screeching halt during bad weather.
He rummaged around, opening and closing cabinet doors, until he located a glass for water, a cup for coffee, and a plate to fill with whatever he could find in the fridge.
Ten minutes later, he’d downed two glasses of water, had a healthy start on polishing off his first cup of coffee, and had scrambled a pair of eggs that he ate with ketchup on toast. The ibuprofen in the top cabinet would work its magic soon.
He grabbed his cell and checked the screen. The battery had died. The plug in the living room had a charger, so he hooked up his phone and retrieved his laptop. At the kitchen table, he took a seat and powered up.
His inbox had a couple of messages from Margie. During the storm, she’d hunkered down and started digging into the band and Beau’s mother. The first message had the subject line that read: Mother . He clicked on the message to open it. The woman who’d birthed Beaumont Sturgess the Second went by two names according to her credit record. Emma Rollins and Sophia Jayne Cook. The Emma/Sophia person’s last known address was a bust. The apartment she’d used as her current address had been rented out to someone by the name of Bubba Jenner.
Travis made a mental note of the man’s name, just in case he came up again. Margie wrote that she was checking to see if there was any connection between Emma/Sophia and Bubba and would report back on that later.
The second e-mail had a subject line that read: Band . Margie was always to the point. He used to tease her that she wouldn’t make a very good marketer and that she’d picked the right profession, keeping straight to the point.
As it turned out, Cactus Rose Outlaws had four roadies quit two years ago. One spoke out, saying the band was broke, and several of his paychecks had bounced. Last year, the band had launched a tour in smaller stadiums and at rodeos, and the manager said they were back on their feet. Craig Sheave gave a statement about the band’s financial health and the lead singer’s mental health. Blake had gone to rehab, though Margie noted sources couldn’t confirm it, but the manager said he’d been clean for a year.
Travis’s first thought went to Grayson. Was the band playing Saddle Junction so Blake could visit his son’s hometown? Had Blake tracked Chloe down, or had she told him where she was from while they were together? The latter made more sense. Early in relationships, people usually wanted to know everything about each other’s backgrounds.
Why did the thought of Chloe’s famous ex coming to town rile Travis up?
For one, the man didn’t deserve to get to know Grayson. There hadn’t been word one from him during Chloe’s pregnancy or in the three years his son had been alive. Of course, if Blake really had gone to rehab and cleaned up his life, he should be allowed to meet his kid. But the way he was going about it rubbed Travis the wrong way. If that was the reason the band had taken this gig, it could be for exposure and a paycheck. The band originally slated to play in Saddle Junction had backed out at the last minute. Stepping in to be a sub might have meant the new band could write its own ticket and charge whatever they wanted.
There was also the possibility Blake didn’t even know Chloe lived here. By her account and from the clippings of Blake collapsing on stage drunk and drugged, he might not have remembered where Chloe was from or even that he had a child.
Travis pulled up Chloe’s social media account. He clicked around, trying to access pictures to see if she’d posted any of Grayson. Her privacy settings forbid anyone from seeing her content without her permission. Good. He always cautioned folks against making their accounts public and blasting personal information for anyone and everyone to see. One of the fastest ways to have your house broken into and your belongings picked through and stolen was to announce to the world you were on vacation. If you were far away in another state or country while posting daily pictures, that was even better for the criminal mind.
In Saddle Junction, teens often had barn parties when homeowners were away, but then they didn’t go on social media to tell their friends when the grapevine was as strong as the one in town.
Travis realized he was clenching his back teeth so hard that his molars might crack while thinking about Chloe’s ex. He moved his jaw side-to-side a couple of times to break up some of the tension in his body.
As much as he tried to convince himself he might be researching the person who’d attacked him, and that was the reason his stress levels shot up, a small part of him wouldn’t allow the lie.
Some of his reaction had to do with finding the bastard who’d gotten the jump on Travis. Some of it had to do with his disgust for a person walking away from their child before the kid was even born. What asshat did that? Travis would never know what it was like to have a biological child. Didn’t Blake realize that becoming a father was a gift denied to others? And some of his reaction had to do with a jealousy he had no right to feel.
Chloe didn’t belong to Travis. Never would. A relationship wasn’t on the table, nor would it ever be. She wanted kids, lots of them. He could never give her a family. And he, of all people, realized how much it hurt when the option was taken off the table.
Plus, he was getting way ahead of the game. Was their attraction mutual? He believed so. Did that equate to dating? Both had to be into it. Was she? She’d said Grayson takes up all her time. She’d mentioned there was no room in her life for anyone else. Even if they dated, it didn’t mean they’d get married.
Travis gave himself a silent shake of the head and refocused on the case. On second thought, he got up and fixed a second cup of coffee. The ibuprofen tablets were kicking in. His head had stopped screaming, and the fog was clearing. Another dose of caffeine would set him up right.
As he poured another cup, a scream sounded from the bedroom.
He dropped the mug. It crashed down on the countertop, spilling its contents. He could clean it later. Right now, all he cared about was Chloe.
Another scream had him running down the hallway.
Chloe sat bolt upright. She pulled the covers up to her neck as she tried to gain her bearings. Trav’s muscled body filled the doorway, causing relief to wash over her.
“I’m okay,” she quickly said as perspiration beaded on her forehead. “I have nightmares after what happened.” What had happened was the town’s former sheriff. Carr had abducted her and planned to kill her. She was supposed to be collateral damage used against her brother and Bree. The horror and the stress from the event still haunted her sleeping hours. At least while she was awake she could reason through the sudden fear when it felt like someone might be following her.
This seemed like a good time to remind herself that Carr was in jail, awaiting trial. The evidence against him would ensure he spent the rest of his life in a maximum-security prison. Serial killers, she’d been told, weren’t popular inmates. An involuntary shiver rocked her body as she thought about what had happened a couple of months ago.
The mattress dipped underneath Trav when he sat on the bed next to her. “I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“No, but it makes me sick to my stomach when one of my own abuses the job,” he said. He dropped his head to his hands. “I should’ve known, dammit. I worked for the man.”
“You’re the reason he’s behind bars, Trav. You’re the one who figured out his identity. If not for you, I might not be alive right now.” Icy fingers gripped her spine at the thought. She tried to shake it off mentally, but her body had a mind of its own. It started trembling despite her trying to will it to stop.
Trav reached out and touched the knee she’d drawn up. “I’m here.”
She nodded, resisting the urge to lean into his comfort. He wouldn’t always be there. She had to find a way to make herself all right without his help. There were times when she feared she might never be okay again.
For Grayson, she’d been strong. Now that he wasn’t home, her body seemed to think it was a good time to release all the pent-up stress it had been experiencing.
“When something happens to you, and you have a kid, you just kind of stuff it down and keep going,” she said. “You have to be strong for them so they feel safe even when you don’t feel it.”
“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—Grayson is a great kid, and he’s lucky as hell to have you for a mom.” The sincerity in Trav’s voice sent more of that warmth flooding her.
“Thank you,” she said. “It still means a lot to hear it. More than you know.”
A look passed behind Trav’s eyes that she couldn’t quite decipher.
“I made a mess in your kitchen when you called out,” he said, pushing off the bed. She had to resist the urge to grab his forearm and tug him back down. “I better go take care of it.”
“I owe you a debt of gratitude for staying here last night,” she said.
He gave a slight shake of his head before excusing himself and heading down the hall toward the kitchen.
Chloe threw off the covers and then freshened up in the bathroom. She grabbed the phone on her nightstand, thankful it had been quiet. She needed to figure out a schedule so she could relieve Annmarie of the kids. Could she bring the boys back to the trailer? Not safely. Could she go to the ranch? Again, not safely. If the person targeting her followed her to the ranch, she would never forgive herself. The boys could be hurt in the crossfire.
The smell of eggs wafted down the hallway, causing her stomach to growl. She finished up in the bathroom and then joined Trav in the kitchen.
“I hope you don’t mind I made myself at home. I found a few supplies and am making breakfast for you,” he said.
A knock sounded at the door before she could respond.
In two seconds flat, the burner was turned off, and Trav had located his department issue gun. Despite growing up on a ranch, Chloe had never fired anything aside from a shotgun.
She looked to Trav, and their gazes locked. He nodded for her to go ahead and open the door.
With the grace of a leopard, he beat her to the door. Back against the wall, he held his weapon at the ready. If someone tried to push through the door, they would get a big surprise.
It dawned on her that Trav’s truck wasn’t parked outside. It was still at the frozen gate—a gate that most likely still wasn’t fixed.
She peeked through the slats of the miniblinds and whispered, “Guy’s here.”
“Hey, Chloe, are you in there?” The rapid-fire knocks sent her pulse racing.
She opened the door and forced a calm that she didn’t feel. Guy didn’t scare her; it was just loud noises in general now. Ever since Sheriff Carr.
Chloe stepped aside. “Come in.”
Guy took half a step in the door before he noticed Trav against the wall. A muscle in his eye twitched, his facial expression tensed, and he immediately froze. “You have company. I’ll come back to talk to you later.”
“Now is a good time,” Trav said, stepping into full view while lowering his weapon.
“No,” Guy stated. “I’m here to check on Chloe.”
The intense heat bouncing off these two would be enough to warm a small house.
“Would you like to come inside and have a cup of coffee?” Chloe asked Guy as she shot Trav a look, telling him to calm down.
He didn’t make eye contact.
“No,” Guy said as he took a backward step, forgot to accommodate the step down to the deck, and then nearly fell on his backside as he struggled to regain balance. “Call me later.”
Trav sidestepped Chloe. “What are you afraid of?”
Guy shot him a go-to-hell look. “Not a thing.”
“Then, talk to me,” Trav said through clenched teeth.
This was like standing between two bulls that were ready for a fight. She didn’t appreciate the standoff.
“Trav, stay here,” she said before stepping onto the deck and closing the door behind her. Guy had been far too kind and generous to her for him to be treated in this manner. She leaned closer and said, “I’m sorry about him. Since being attacked in the parking lot at the bar, he’s been on edge.” She put up a hand to stop him from a snarky response. “It’s not your problem, I know. It’s just that he’s a good person, and I hate that you two aren’t on better terms.”
Guy glared at the door like he expected it to swing open and for Trav to come out with boxing gloves on or something. “He’s your friend, not mine.”
“Can I ask why you hate him so much?”
He stood there for a long moment. The air was freezing cold, and she’d run outside in a hurry without socks or a jacket. Hell, she was still in yoga pants and a T-shirt. The biting wind cut right through the thin material. Chloe folded her arms over her chest and started hopping up and down to stay warm.
“You’ll freeze out here,” Guy pointed out.
“At least I’d die knowing why you two can’t seem to stand each other,” she quipped.
Her comment elicited a smile.
“Can we leave it at the fact I don’t like others poking around in my business?”
“Is that the truth?” she asked. “All of the truth?”
“More or less,” he stated.
“Trav said your truck was at the bar on the night he was attacked.” She had no idea if Guy was allowed to know the reason Trav wanted to speak to him so badly. “I didn’t see you there.”
“What night?”
Her teeth chattered. “Night before last.”
“I lent my truck out to a friend,” he said.
“What friend?” she asked impulsively.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes, of course,” she said.
Guy just stood there for a long moment, studying her. “Go inside before you freeze to death.”
She stood there, facing off with him. Her stubborn streak stopped her from giving in and being the one to walk away first. She wanted answers. She wanted to know why Guy and Trav couldn’t be in the same room with each other—and she wanted to know who Guy had loaned his truck to.
“Do it for me, so the man inside will give me some breathing room,” he said softly. Then added, “Okay?”