But what if it was the pathway to your own personal truth?
The question whispered through her mind, more tantalizing than she wanted to admit.
She loved her sisters, brothers and Mac without bounds, but even their love for each other had never been able to assuage that pervasive sense of never belonging. The idea that there was an answer for that—one that went beyond basic embarrassment she’d come from a woman who thought the rules of life simply did not apply to her—was heady.
And far too enticing.
“The blog article was the missing link. I’d had several leads, all centering on sex trafficking, but couldn’t get that last piece.”
“The baby piece?”
“Yes.” He nodded, pulling out his phone and opening up a note-taking app she loved. “Here’s the trail I’ve followed. You can scroll through, but you can see the basic path.”
Claudia took the extended phone, surprised by this facet of his personality, as well. Mobile phones were such personal devices, yet he’d surrendered his as if it was nothing.
“Start at the top?”
“You’re welcome to read all of it, but if you begin at the notation after she left Russia, you can work through the high points.”
The heat of his body was still imprinted on the phone and Claudia did her best to ignore it. Instead, she read the carefully detailed entries, a picture forming in her mind of a young woman, suffering and alone. To have gone from Russia and the only home she’d ever known, essentially kidnapped and moved through the world like a piece of property...
Add on a pregnancy and the loss of her support system and Claudia couldn’t hold back the rising anger.
Or that continued sadness that refused to abate when she thought about all her mother’s bad behavior and all the myriad ways she’d ruined lives. A hundred lifetimes in jail could never fix or repair what she’d damaged.
No, Claudia amended to herself. What she’d broken.
The entries at an end, the photo from the blog his last entry on the screen, she handed back the phone. “You make a convincing argument, I’ll give you that. But it still doesn’t explain why my mother would take on the responsibility for a baby.”
“It can’t be that hard to figure out.”
“What do you mean?”
“All we have to do is ask people if they remember her pregnancy or her behavior at that time.”
“It’s not a secret my mother met my father, Claude, in a whirlwind rush while visiting Europe.”
Hawk persisted. “Yes, but did she completely abandon the young children she had here? I know they’re not close, but would Mac remember?”
“I could ask him.”
“Could you do it now?”
For all she loved Mac, the man didn’t handle surprises well. That went triple when the surprise had anything to do with Livia. She’d worry him unnecessarily if he couldn’t see her face when she asked the question.
“We can go see him, but I’m not calling him with that.”
“Why not? It’s a simple question.”
“Nothing about Mac or his relationship to my mother is simple.”
“I guess I can see that.”
Hawk reached for his coffee, impatience telegraphing off him in waves.
“You want to go this morning?”
A wry, sheepish expression crossed his features. “Can we?”
“Can I finish the errands I came here for?”
“Of course.”
“We’ll swing by his ranch on the way back into Shadow Creek.”
An image of bringing a man home to meet her surrogate father filled her mind’s eye.
And somehow, despite all the surprises they’d suffered over the past few months since her mother’s escape from jail, Claudia figured Hawk’s suspicions were one surprise Mac had never seen coming.
Hell, she had to admit to herself, neither had she.
* * *
She had a protector.
Those words whispered over and over in the mind of the Forgotten One as Claudia traipsed down Main Street.
Wasn’t this a surprise?
The weeks of planning and waiting, plotting and calculating were coming to a close and now she’d found someone to guard her?
Tall and stoic, he had the classic Texas cowboy look down to a T. He even swaggered, his long strides eating up the sidewalk beside the princess. But make no mistake about it; that was no hayseed cowboy walking beside the newly crowned queen of Shadow Creek.
That man was there to watch over her.
The Forgotten One knew that—sensed it—and wouldn’t make the mistake of underestimating him. Or the appreciative look that rode the man’s gaze as he stared at the figure she made as she walked down Main Street.
Which meant months of planning needed to be adjusted. Refined. It was simply a matter of regrouping and reassessing, identifying a new opportunity to get Claudia Colton alone. One of those quiet, early mornings when she let herself into her pretty new shop. Or maybe late at night when she drove herself home from dinner with family.
Or maybe outside her brother’s wedding.
The thought struck, swift and hard as the Forgotten One reassessed.
Regrouped.
And settled on a new plan that was far more exciting than the old.
Acres of farmland spread out before them as Claudia took the turn onto Mackenzie land. Hawk studied the area, assessing as both first-time visitor and as someone who’d read the blog article.
He’d give the writer credit. Of all the things the blog had gotten wrong or insinuated or flat out made up, the beauty of the Mackenzie property wasn’t one of them. Several head of cattle roamed on the front pasture while a horse corral took up a place of prominence on the opposite side of the long driveway. The land was wide-open, yet there was an intimacy, too.
And a fierce pride that reflected from the gleaming fence that rimmed the corral or the perfectly placed posts that made up the enclosure for the cattle. This was a working ranch and, from what Hawk could see, the place hummed.
“He’s probably with the horses this time of day.” Claudia pulled into a small lot on the back side of the barn and cut the ignition. She turned toward him, and for the first time that day Hawk saw real nerves in her expression.
“Let me tell him why we’re here,” Claudia added.
“You think I’m going to blurt it out?”
“No.”
“Then trust me when I tell you I will handle the situation with absolute discretion.”
In the same way his back had stiffened at the coffeehouse, Hawk knew it the moment the conversation shifted.
“Trust you? I don’t know you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“It’s hard enough to trust the people you do know. Of all the things you can ask me, Mr. Huntley, don’t ask that.”
Before he could stop her, she’d sailed out of the car