Texas Heroes_ Volume 1(79)

He was so big. So powerful. So angry with her, yet he kept that anger carefully lashed under iron bands of control.

She could defuse that anger by explaining about Simon, but then she’d have to admit that she couldn’t leave. Didn’t know where to go.

He didn’t want her here. He was a loner, down to the bone, of that she was sure. He’d already had to play nursemaid and babysitter for a woman he despised and a child he didn’t know. This place was his, even if by default. Cyrus Blackburn had loved this place and wouldn’t have given it to him if he hadn’t cared for Mitch. The Grandpa she knew would have ordered him off the place with a shotgun, let it rot from neglect before letting a stranger have it.

No, Mitch’s grief was real. She had seen little emotion slip past his mask, but his grief and love for Grandpa were palpable.

And he’d helped them, never mind that he despised her. He’d been gentle with Davey, though it was obvious he had no experience with children.

But what would he say if he knew she was being hunted? Maybe he would help her, maybe not. She couldn’t risk being thrown out until she was ready, until she had a plan.

Right now, she couldn’t clear her brain well enough to plan. All she could do was rest and get back her strength.

She would never go back. One escape, before Davey was conceived in violence, had taught her the price of Simon’s displeasure. He was medieval in his thinking, cruel and unforgiving. She had been forced to live as chattel in a soft and pampered prison, forbidden contact with anyone from her old life. She would never forgive herself for her weakness.

He had left her alone after Davey’s birth, lost interest in them both. Locked away in Simon’s pretty prison while he played in the city, there had been no chances for escape until Simon himself had granted deliverance, divorcing her to marry someone else. But he had warned her to stay in Boston. She knew he had her watched and followed. As long as he had stayed away, she hadn’t forced the issue. He seemed to have forgotten them.

Until the day that he showed up on her doorstep to claim the son he’d never loved, reminding her that Matheson power could wrest Davey away from her forever. She’d threatened him with going to the authorities with what she suspected about his money laundering, and Simon had only laughed, secure in his power. Then he turned the tables, telling her that if she breathed a word, he would take Davey somewhere that she would never find him.

Perrie had adopted her old subservient pose, groveling while rage ate a hole in her soul, knowing that he would do it, that she had to put his mind at ease. With the help of her only friend, Simon’s wizened old gardener, Elias Conkwright, she laid the groundwork for leaving while making sure Davey was never alone with Simon until she could flee.

But one day Simon had picked Davey up from kindergarten unexpectedly. After two frantic days, Davey had returned—afraid.

It was a reminder of Simon’s threat. Perrie knew then that she could not wait any longer. Time had run out, whether she had enough money or not. She wrote down everything she knew that could point toward Simon’s white-collar crimes, and left the papers with Elias, who would deliver them not to the police, but to Boston’s premier investigative reporter. She could only pray that someday justice would find Simon.

She had left the name of the town nearest her grandfather’s cabin, asking Elias to contact her only in case of emergency—or if by some miracle, Simon was apprehended.

And she had fled to what she thought was safety.

Only to find a stranger in place of the man who would help.

Forcing away the whirling cloud of fear and despair, Perrie closed her eyes and sought the stillness that had helped her survive this far.

She would have to run again, it seemed.

But for now, she would sleep.



“Mitch,” Davey whispered, standing in the chair and stirring. “Want me to go wake Mom? It’s almost ready.”

Mitch took his gaze off the boy only long enough to check her, then shook his head. “We’ll set it on the back. It’ll keep warm for awhile. Maybe she’ll sleep longer.”

Davey sighed, then wrinkled his face. “No one can sleep this much.”

“Maybe not you, sport, but your mom’s been very sick.”

“When she gets better, can we take her fishing, too?”

“I can’t imagine she’d like it.”

“Oh, she would—she told me. Grandpa Cy used to take her fishing when she was my age.”

He hated to disappoint the hopeful look in the boy’s eyes. “Maybe. We’ll have to see how long you’re staying.”

Davey’s eyes widened. “We were gonna come live with Grandpa Cy, Mom told me.” His brow wrinkled. “Maybe you don’t want us to stay.”