And now came the third. His adrenaline surged, flooding his body with heat.
Someone was walking toward his bedroom.
The twins’ room was across the hall and a fleeting thought struck that someone was coming for them. But who could that be? And how in the hell did the person get past ranch security?
It took a minute for that to sink in.
Another thought struck that it could be one of his family members, but that couldn’t be right, either. His brothers and sister would’ve called if there’d been an emergency. There was no way his cousins, Zach and Amy, would show in the middle of the night without calling. Those would be the only people who could get past security.
Mitch double-checked his cell in case he’d silenced his phone instead of switching it to vibrate. He thought about the heifer, and for a split second he thought the butchering might’ve been a warning.
The doorknob turned, so he jumped into action. Whoever thought they were going to get the best of him had another thing coming.
In two seconds he stood next to the door. It opened toward him, so it would shield him as the intruder stepped inside.
This probably wasn’t the time to realize his shotgun was locked in a gun cabinet, a precaution he took for the sake of his children. Even if he could get to it, it wouldn’t do any good. The shells were locked in a drawer.
As the door eased open, Mitch held his breath. He had his physical size, athletic conditioning and the element of surprise on his side, and that was about it. He had no idea what could be pushing through on the other side of that door.
In that moment he regretted not arming the alarm. He’d put one in, based on his wife’s insistence, but never used it now that she was gone.
Another few seconds and he’d be ready to grab whoever crossed that threshold. And he hoped like hell it was only one person.
Mitch flexed and released his fingers. He was ready.
A smallish—at least in comparison to his size—figure slipped inside. He took a step toward the intruder and grabbed whatever he could, wrapping his hands around the person’s upper arms. The intruder seemed familiar but he dismissed the thought.
Until the person kicked where no man wanted a foot and he gulped for air. The intruder put their hands on top of his and then dropped to the floor, breaking his grip. This person had skills.
“Stop it and I won’t hurt you,” he warned through sharp intakes of air. He was still trying to regain his footing after taking a hit to the groin.
Before the intruder could scoot away completely, he had a fistful of shirt material. He took another knee in the same spot, ignoring the pain shooting up his abdomen and causing his gut to clench.
Fists flew at him until he wrangled the stranger’s arms under control, but in pulling him or her close he ushered in a scent—lilies—and froze.
The intruder scooted out from underneath him.
“Whatever you do, don’t turn on the light,” the familiar voice warned through gasps.
“Who are you?” he asked but he already knew the answer—an answer that was a throat punch.
“It’s me. Kimberly.”
Kimberly needed to find the right words to get her husba—Mitch motivated to get out of the house and Jacobstown until she was certain the men who’d found her had moved on. Thinking about him in terms of being her husband only crushed her heart more.
Instead she stood there, mute.
“My wife is dead,” Mitch said out loud. His angry tone came off like he said the words more for himself than for her benefit. Either way, they scored a direct hit. Guilt was another punch.
All she could think to do was back away from him, slip past him and dart into the twins’ nursery across the hall. She didn’t flip on the light because her eyes had long ago adjusted to the darkness and she didn’t want to wake the babies yet.
She knew that he followed her based on the tension she felt radiating from behind her.
Mitch’s hand gripped her arm as she started toward the set of cribs nestled against the wall. Her heart nearly burst at the thought she would actually get to see them again. Hold them?
“Stop right there.” Mitch’s voice came out in a growl.
Reality slapped her in the face. He was about to kick her out. She jerked her arm out of his grasp and whirled around on him.
“I know what this must look like but trust me when I say you and the babies are in danger,” she said in barely more than a whisper. “If we don’t get out of here right now, a pair of men will show up. And that’ll be bad news for everyone.”
He stood there and stared at her like he was facing down a ghost. And he was. At least in his mind.
Mitch stilled and she could tell that she was getting through to him. Angry or not, he’d always been reasonable. Even though she could tell his armor was up and she’d never truly be able to break through it again, he considered what she was saying.
“Where have you been?” he finally ground out.
“Around.” As far as answers went, it was awful. But it was also true. And there was no way she was telling him her locations. It would be too easy for him to predict where she went next.
Mitch stood in an athletic stance and crossed his arms over his solid bare chest.
“Why?” There was no sign of weakness in his voice when he asked the question. No sign of long nights without her. No sign of the hurt he must’ve felt. His tone was steady as steel now. He was steady as steel. The only thing that could melt steel was a temperature of 2,500 degrees Fahrenheit, and his glare felt at least that scorching.
He deserved an explanation. There was no time to go into details. She needed to get him to safety and then she could figure out the right words. Everything had careened out of control faster than an Indy driver staring down a wall after veering off course. The wall was coming. The crash was going to be devastating. The only question was how many of the pieces she could pick up afterward.
“Please say you’ll come with me and bring the babies,” she begged.
“You’re supposed to be dead. Explain to me why you’re alive and standing in front of me.” His arms crossed tighter over his chest and there was so much anger in his eyes.
“I can’t right now. But I promise—”
“Not good enough.” He stood there, being a stubborn mule.
“Mitch. Come on. Just listen to me,” she started, but he stopped her with a hand in the air.
Frustration seethed, pouring off him in waves.
“Forgive me, but I’ve been talking to a headstone for the past eleven months.”
Those words were daggers and robbed her of breath.
“I buried your memory and as much of you as I could along with it,” he continued, unblinking.
Wind blasted the window, rattling the casing. She jumped and sucked in a sharp breath. “We need to go now.”
“The kids need stability. Being here will give them that.” His lips thinned. “Give me one reason I should take it away from them.”
He wanted answers she couldn’t give. But asking him to trust her at this point would be a slap in the face.
Reluctantly, she moved into the hallway, knowing