Stealing Hearts (Wild at Heart #1)(81)

And then the small plastic wand clatters to the ground.

With my heart in my throat, I grab the damn thing.

It’s positive.

The realization that I kicked out my pregnant wife is almost too much to bear. Needing support, I lean against the counter. As I think about all the ugly things I said last night, grief like I’ve never known spears me, making it difficult to breathe.

Paige didn’t tell me that she was pregnant. She could have.

Instead, she asked me if I loved her.

And like a royal ass, I all but offered to buy her a ticket to Florida.

I have to find her. I have to track her down and beg for forgiveness.

My wife is pregnant.

With my child.

For a second, fear of repeating all the mistakes in my first marriage slams into me, but I give myself an internal shake. This is Paige we’re talking about, not Amber. Paige, who’s a natural mom with my boys. Paige, who loves the ranch and my kids and my stupid ass. Paige, who’s never wavered in her commitment to me.

Like clouds parting in my dumb, thick skull, I realize I want this baby. More than my next breath.

But first I need my wife, safe and sound, back in my arms.

For as long as she’ll have me.

“Get your keys,” I shout. “We need to find Paige.”





45





PAIGE




I wake to the sound of low murmurs. It’s pretty early, judging by the early morning light.

The cemetery doesn’t open until nine. Maybe those voices belong to gravediggers. I’d better go before they catch me.

Yawning, I sit up. Every muscle in my body aches from sleeping on the ground. I slide my arms through my hoodie.

“That’s not the amount we agreed on,” a male voice says.

I peer over the headstone and see two men talking next to a car parked along the back alley behind a row of trees.

“The job’s not done yet,” a second man says. He waves his arm, and something gold catches the sun. It seems oddly familiar. “You’ll get the rest when it’s done.”

I know that voice.

“Harlan, with all due respect…” Harlan? As in our banker? “I can’t jeopardize my job anymore.”

I squint to see better. That’s definitely Harlan Calhoun.

What’s he doing at the cemetery at this hour?

On reflex, I grab my phone, focus on the men talking, and hit record. If I had done this all those years ago when I spotted Amber talking to Kacey, if Rhett could’ve seen what I saw, maybe he would’ve believed that she was cheating and not married her.

Harlan shifts, and I get a clear view of the other person. The man has a bushy black mustache.

It’s the state agency guy who shut down the ranch, Mr. Dods.

Are they exchanging money? An eerie feeling settles over me, and goosebumps break out along my arms.

“It’s just one last time, Eugene,” Harlan says. “The Walkers are going to default, and I’ll get the ranch for a song. Rhett will be begging me to buy it. Just keep those cattle out of commission until I tell you.”

Blood drains from my face, and I brace myself against my brother’s headstone.

“I need more money. I’m the one taking all the risks.”

“Bullshit. My son’s the one cutting fences in the middle of the night and moving sick cattle from his ranch to theirs.”

What. The. Fuck.

Harlan was the one sabotaging the ranch this whole time. How did I not know? We invited this nice old man into our home for our wedding, and he’s the asshole trying to destroy us?

Suddenly, my phone blares, and I fumble to turn it off. Shit. I look up and realize they’re staring in my direction.

“Goddamn it,” Harlan yells. “Get her, and shove her in the trunk. Bring her to my place when you catch her.”

Shit! With my heart in my throat, I run in the opposite direction. I hurdle over tombstones and memorials and floral arrangements. I’m sorry for running over your graves, dead people! I’ll bring you all fresh flowers if I make it out of here alive.

I nearly trip over a tree root, and my phone goes flying into a bush. I’m too afraid to slow down to grab it.

Footsteps behind me make me sprint faster, and a male voice shouts, “Stop now or this will be worse when I catch you!”

They plan to put me in a trunk. How much worse can it get? I have a feeling if I end up there, I’m not coming out. I don’t recognize that voice, but I don’t bother turning around to see who it is.

“No one’s gonna find your body when I’m done with you, bitch!” he shouts, closer now.

Terror grips me, and I pick up speed. As I cut through the cemetery, I worry my ankle won’t hold up, but it stays strong, and I pump my arms faster.

A million thoughts rush through my mind. Why didn’t I tell Rhett that I loved him last night? That we could get through the hard times together if he let me? That I didn’t care if he had a ranch or a straw roof over his head?

And now I might never get the chance.

Beyond this side of the cemetery is a forested area.

I sprint toward it like my life depends on it.

Because it does.





46





RHETT