Chapter 14

14

H olt's hands shook above the keyboard. Should he do this? Was it even legal?

For half an hour, he'd dug into AnnaLeigh's online presence and come up with nothing. Her only active social media was a private account through Facebook, and without her password, he couldn't determine if she'd reached out to friends in Colorado.

They were his last, best hope.

Now, after a simple Google search, he'd discovered the shocking fact that software tools for hacking an account were free and downloadable.

Scary. But useful.

Looking at Facebook for information was a long shot, but people unintentionally put all kinds of things they shouldn't on social media. He'd seen plenty of news stories about the dangers.

Hopefully, AnnaLeigh hadn't seen those same reports and had given out enough information for him to track her.

Feeling like a cybercriminal but desperate enough to do it anyway, he downloaded the free software and, in minutes, logged onto his wife's Facebook page.

Cheery posts and photos popped up of an African-American woman with multi-colored hair and huge brown eyes. Jazmine. Obviously a good friend, although AnnaLeigh hadn't responded to any of her messages.

Maybe she didn't use this account anymore.

Holt's heart sunk. Another dead end.

"Where are you?" he muttered.

He would grovel, plead—whatever it took to get her to come home to him. If he could only find her.

He scrolled through AnnaLeigh's page, which was loaded with pictures he'd never seen. His chest squeezed at the photos of her with a puppy, at the beach, and, most painfully, with a suave looking guy whose arm was slung possessively around her shoulders.

Holt squinted at the blue name tag above the photo. Alan Watts.

Was this the father of her baby? The thought stung, but Holt shrugged off the instant hurt. If AnnaLeigh cared for the man, she'd be with him, not with Holt. She certainly wouldn't have agreed to their marriage.

Doubts crept in. They hadn't married for love. He'd spelled out his motives, but he was still mulling hers.

Desperate, she'd said. The pregnancy had made her desperate enough to marry a stranger.

A thought niggled at the back of his brain. Why had she left this guy, especially if he was the father of her child? Had he broken off the relationship when he'd learned she was pregnant? Was he married? Abusive?

His mind stopped on the last word. At their first meeting, AnnaLeigh had strongly hinted that some guy had hit her.

Mr. Suave had hurt AnnaLeigh. Had he done more than that? Was the pregnancy a result of something more sinister than love? Was that why she'd left Colorado?

A slow boil started in Holt's veins.

He was about to close the browser when he noticed a message alert at the top of the page. He clicked it.

All the blood drained from his head. He tightened his grip on the mouse and leaned closer to read.

Don't make me any angrier. I will come for you, and you will come home.

Mouth agape, Holt blinked at the threat. Seriously? Some creep was threatening his wife?

His fist curled against the desktop.

Who would do this? The dude in the photo? The one with the toothy smile and slick shoes?

Holt scrolled to the top of the thread to see the person's profile picture. It was blank. But the name was the same. Alan Watts.

He looked at the time stamp. Yesterday.

Shortly before AnnaLeigh had rushed home and fallen into his arms.

She'd been upset, shaking.

But not for the reasons he'd thought. Not because she'd broken their contract and fallen in love with him.

Some maniac was stalking her online. The same guy, no doubt, who'd hurt her.

He scrolled down, reading more and more messages, notes that insisted AnnaLeigh belonged to the writer. Warnings that she'd better return or pay the price. Harassment, barely concealed fury, threats.

"What has she been going through?" A sharp pain seared his conscience. What kind of man was he that his wife was reluctant to come to him when she was clearly in trouble?

If the long thread was any indicator, this guy had been harassing AnnaLeigh for weeks. She'd not replied to one message, but she'd read them all.

Was this the reason she'd deactivated her other accounts and set this one to private? Because she was trying to conceal her whereabouts?

Holt grew more furious with each word he read. From the increasingly dark undertone in each message, Holt suspected the man could very well be dangerous.

And he wanted AnnaLeigh.

Alan Watts must have been the reason she'd accepted Holt's proposal and why she hadn't told him the whole truth from the start. She was afraid. AnnaLeigh didn't love this guy. She was avoiding him, hiding from him. He was the reason she'd moved to Refuge.

AnnaLeigh truly was desperate, not only because she was pregnant and alone, but because her ex had threatened her and continued to threaten her.

Holt's fists tightened.

"Bring it on, buddy," he said through clenched teeth.

To get to AnnaLeigh, sicko would have to come through him.

Did she know that? Did she understand that he would protect her with his life?

His stomach twisted. Maybe she didn't.

Not after the way he'd turned his back on her last night.

"Oh, AnnaLeigh. I'm sorry."

She should have told him.

He leaned back in the rolling desk chair, pondering the flood of new information about his wife, trying to put all the clues together. The most important thing at this point was to find her and bring her home. To let her know he'd take care of her…and the baby. He'd keep them safe.

She loved him. Zeke was right. Her every action revealed her love, and he'd been a knothead not to see it.

Slowly, a new truth seeped into his thoughts.

AnnaLeigh hadn't left the ranch because of their quarrel. She hadn't left because of anything he'd said or done to upset her.

She'd run because of her love for him and Jacey. She'd left the ranch to draw trouble away from the family she loved.

A stranger had asked about her in town yesterday.

Her ex, perhaps?

An ex with a temper. An ex who could very well be hot on her trail.

Holt fumbled for the phone and tapped Evan Young's contact picture. A longtime detective, if anyone could ferret out AnnaLeigh's whereabouts and put a stop to this Alan creep's harassment, Evan could.

When his friend answered, Holt blurted out a jumbled explanation that didn't even make sense to him. Fortunately, Evan had known him a long time.

"Calm down, pal. Has there been an accident? Is AnnaLeigh hurt? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"I don't know. She might be. She's gone." He ripped his fingers through his hair. "We had this quarrel last night?—"

"Stop right there. You had a quarrel, and AnnaLeigh left. Give her some time to think things through and then call her."

"I've already called, texted, Facebook messaged. She's not responding."

"She's upset. Women are like that. They need time to?—"

"Some guy's threatening her on Facebook."

Evan sucked in a breath. "Back up. This is the first you've mentioned someone threatening her."

It was?

"Do you know this guy?" Evan asked. "Does she?"

"I think he's an old boyfriend. Not sure."

"Got a name?"

"Alan Watts. Colorado."

"Okay, I'll run a check on him, but Holt, you know there's not much law enforcement can do unless a crime's been committed."

Holt ground his teeth in frustration.

"Evan! You know me. I don't panic." But he was about to. "Something bad is going to happen if we don't find AnnaLeigh."

A quiet beat passed. "Give me everything you know or think you know. Better yet, text it to me, along with her Facebook info. You're pretty rattled."

Rattled? He was insane with worry.

But he followed his friend's advice.

Within thirty minutes, a white SUV bearing the blue county sheriff logo roared into Holt's driveway. Holt met his friend on the porch. He didn't care how cold the weather. All that mattered was finding AnnaLeigh before her old boyfriend did.

The undersheriff, taller and thinner than Holt, hopped out of the vehicle. "Any word from AnnaLeigh since we talked?"

In tan uniform shirt and black trousers, a cowboy hat on his head, Evan was every inch a Texas lawman, but he was a friend too, and the concern in his voice was real.

He strode across the lawn, police gear rattling, a radio strap draped across his chest.

"Not a word." Holt gripped the back of his neck. The muscles felt as hard as oak roots. "Maybe I'm freaking out for nothing."

"You're not."

The quickly spoken words splashed over Holt like ice water.

"What are you saying?"

"AnnaLeigh's ex-boyfriend is about as dirty as they come."

"A criminal?" The hair stood up on the back of Holt's neck. AnnaLeigh was involved with a criminal?

Evan's nod was short, his face grim. "CBI and the FBI have been after Watts for years, but he's crafty. He's the brains of what we believe to be a large-scale operation—money laundering, gambling, real estate fraud. You name the fraudulent behavior that generates money, and Watts has a finger in the pie. But the man's like Teflon. Messes swirl around him, but nothing sticks. His funds are offshore, and he gets underlings to do his dirty work."

"Do you think AnnaLeigh's in danger?"

"No way of knowing yet." Evan gazed out over the pasture, his jaw set. "People who cross Watts have a way of disappearing. But again, someone else does the dirty work, and he comes out as clean as a baby's conscience."

"I can't believe AnnaLeigh would be involved in anything criminal."

"She wasn't. Not that feds suspect anyway. Everything about her comes out clean. She was only his arm candy for a few months. He's had a string of women. Uses them up and tosses them aside." Evan blanched. "Sorry. That was crude."

The thought sickened Holt. Arm candy. A trophy. Someone to use and discard.

"Like I said, Watts is smart. Chances are AnnaLeigh was as duped as the wealthy social group Watts hangs with."

"Except she ran from him."

"And now he's harassing her."

Holt's adrenaline jacked. At this rate, he'd have a stroke by nightfall. "So you agree that AnnaLeigh is in trouble."

"I'm working with the feds on this. We don't know for sure. We know she's gone. We know she dated a bad guy who's sent some pretty ugly messages. That doesn't mean he's kidnapped her or is in any way involved in her leaving. The two of you did have an argument, remember."

"She's not answering her phone or her texts. That has to mean something."

Evan gave him a sidelong glance. "It means she's mad at you."

"Maybe. Probably. But yesterday she came home from work early, real upset. Now I understand why. A stranger asked about her in town. Add that to the harassing messages, and her leaving makes sense."

"I'm listening."

"She left to protect Jacey and me. She didn't want to bring a criminal to our doorstep."

Evan placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm with you, pal, but this isn't much to go on."

"So, what do we do? Am I supposed to wait around here until I slowly lose my mind? Wait until something terrible happens to my wife before the cops can do anything?"

"Try calling her again."

Holt did. The call went straight to voice mail.

A terrible thought struck him. "What if she can't answer?"

"Text her. Ask if she's safe."

"Good idea." He typed in the message.

His cell phone vibrated in his hand. He stared at the tiny box of words.

Fear froze the breath in his lungs. He couldn't speak. He couldn't think.

Evan grabbed the phone and read the message. With a grunt, he said, "Now we have something to go on."

The peace officer made a call on his radio and then turned toward his truck.

Holt caught his arm. "One more thing."

"What?"

"She's pregnant."

For a brief second, Evan's blue eyes lit up. "Congratulations, Daddy."

Daddy.

A feeling of wonder pushed aside the fear for one tiny moment. His wife's baby would be his. And he wanted it to be.

A brother or sister for Jacey, just as she'd longed for.

All he had to do was find his wife and bring her safely home.

Evan roared out of the driveway with a warning for Holt to let the police handle the situation.

The advice didn't set well with a man accustomed to action.

Holt watched the police vehicle disappear down the graveled road before reading AnnaLeigh's text one more time.

Beacher Motel. Rm 7. Help.

Like Evan, Holt knew exactly where she was, and her final word made his insides shake with fear. And anger.

His wife and baby were in danger.

Sitting around on his thumbs accomplished nothing.

He googled the Beacher Motel in Blue Springs, a town ten miles from Refuge.

With his jaw set and his heart in overdrive, Holt didn't give Evan's warning a second thought.

His wife, his love, needed him.

No power on earth could stop him from racing to his truck.

Ten miles seemed like a thousand. Fence posts sailed past in a blur.

Praying, he barely noticed the Blue Springs city limits sign, but the sound of sirens grabbed his attention.

Holt glanced at his instrument panel. He was speeding.

Lights flashed in his rearview mirror. He slowed to pull over for the inevitable ticket. A police car wailed around him, followed closely by another.

They weren't after him.

Then who?

He was very afraid he knew.

Mind racing, heart thundering, Holt followed the flashing lights and watched as they sailed into the parking lot of the Beacher Motel.

Uniformed police swarmed the place like ants.

Holt's entire body began to shake.

Was he too late? Had something unthinkable happened to AnnaLeigh?

Fighting for the composure that had made him a champion bull rider, Holt parked on the street and made his way up the incline, across the pavement, and around the side of the sprawling motel.

The entrance to Room 7 crawled with police. He recognized two of them. Evan, and the Calypso County sheriff, Lawson Hawk. They stood on either side of the door, weapons drawn.

A primal roar ripped up through Holt's chest and out of his mouth. He broke into a run.

A uniformed cop body-blocked him. "Sorry, sir. You can't go any further."

Holt gave the officer a push. "My wife's in there!"

The officer grabbed both of his arms. "Sir! Stop. This is a crime scene. Let us do our jobs."

Crime scene?

Terror shot through Holt's brain like a bullet. "Is she hurt? Is that it? Something's happened to her?" He fought against the strong hands. "Tell me. Is she hurt?"

"I don't have that information, sir."

The vision in his head of a wounded, suffering AnnaLeigh was so terrible he thought he might crumble. Holt strained toward the hotel room, his eyes glued to the doorway.

"Please, God, please," he whispered, praying in earnest, not even noticing the cold day or the fact that he'd left his coat in the truck.

Suddenly, he spotted long blond hair. He strained to see better. The officer, still gripping one arm, shifted to give him space.

Then she appeared, led by yet another police officer.

"AnnaLeigh," he cried.

Her head jerked up. She was pale, so pale. When she saw him, her mouth fell open. Her face brightened.

"Holt." He couldn't hear her, but her mouth formed his name.

He pushed against his captor. This time, the officer let him go.

AnnaLeigh was afraid to hope, and yet she did. Holt had come for her. That had to mean something. Yesterday, he'd said he loved her. But had he forgiven her?

With legs heavy as stone, and quaking like a leaf in a tornado, she moved through the mass of law enforcement. How they'd found her, she didn't know, but they had, and they'd arrested Alan. She didn't know the particulars and didn't need to. She was safe. Alan was in custody.

Suddenly, a pair of cowboy-strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her trembling body close. He trembled too.

"I was so scared," he whispered against her hair.

"Me, too." Somehow Alan had tracked her to the motel and forced his way in. The last few hours had been a living nightmare.

"Scared of losing you and our baby."

"Our baby?" She leaned her head back, away from his chest, and searched his rugged, wonderful face. "Do you really mean that?"

"I do." His hand went to her stomach. The light and tender touch brought moisture to AnnaLeigh's eyes.

"I hope so. Oh, I hope so." She sucked in a shuddering breath. As hard as it was to discuss, she had to tell him the ugly truth. If he rejected her and the baby now, she'd understand, but she had to know for sure.

"The first time Alan and I had an argument, he-he-" She paused, her face heating with humiliation. "Alan's a man who takes what he wants. He wanted me, mostly as punishment for standing up to him. After that, I felt so used and worthless and scared, I didn't argue. About anything." She turned her head aside and gulped down the shameful memories. "Until I found out I was pregnant. Then I knew, for the baby's sake, I had to get away."

"I read his Facebook messages. And I suspected…" Something dangerous flashed in Holt's brown eyes. He glared toward the motel. "I could pulverize the guy with my bare hands for what he did to you."

AnnaLeigh gripped his upper arms, shaking her head. "No. Please. I never want anyone to know."

His jaw tightened. "He deserves it."

"But this baby doesn't."

With a sigh, Holt relented. "You're right. Regardless of his beginnings, a child is a gift from God." He touched her belly again. "He's part of you, and that's all that matters. That makes me love him. If you can forget the rest, so can I."

AnnaLeigh's hope surged. Nothing he could have said would have eased her mind the way this did.

"Be certain, Holt. I want my baby to have you for a dad, but I don't want you to ever feel trapped." Holt was such an honorable, do-the-right-thing kind of man. But she wanted him to love her and the baby from his heart, not from a sense of duty. "Don't feel obligated because of the contract."

Holt pulled back a little to stare into her eyes. "Obligated? Are you crazy?"

"Yes. Crazy about a certain cowboy and hoping and praying he can forgive my past, my deceit." She took his face, oh, that beloved face, between her palms. "I'm so sorry. I can't say the words enough. I wronged you, and I'll spend forever proving how sorry I am if you'll let me."

He pressed a finger against her lips. "I've made a lot of mistakes in my life." His dark eyes filled with a love and acceptance she could hardly believe. "But you're not one of them. Not you. Not this baby."

A commotion sounded, and AnnaLeigh turned her head to look.

Alan, in handcuffs, was being loaded into the rear of a police car.

Holt tenderly touched the side of her face, drawing her back to him. "He hurt you. Again."

She leaned her aching cheek into his hand. "It doesn't matter now. You're here, and our family is safe from him."

Holt's jaw tightened. For one brief moment, he glared toward the police car as if he could rip the door off and execute justice on the spot. "No man will ever hurt you again. You or our baby. You have my promise."

She placed a hand over his heart, loving his fierce defense, grateful in a way she didn't know how to express.

Gently, Holt placed his lips against the dark bruise. "I should have been there for you. I should have listened more and reacted less."

A lump tightened her throat. "My fault, Holt, not yours. I married you under false pretenses." She lowered her head, ashamed for using him. "With a new name and a new place to live, I thought the baby and I would be safe from Alan's reach and could start fresh. I should have told you about him and about the baby during our first online meeting, even if it meant losing you."

"Maybe. But maybe this is for the best." He tugged her head up. What she saw in his eyes humbled her. "If you'd told me, I might have done something stupid and let you go. The police would still be trying to catch Watts. And I wouldn't have you, the love of my life."

"But I deceived you. I wronged you. Can you really forgive that?"

"I can. I have."

AnnaLeigh's heart soared. From shame to jubilation.

Jesus had forgiven her. Now, her husband had forgiven her, too.

Holt touched his lips to hers. "I love you, Mrs. McNeil. Will you marry me?"

Catching his meaning, AnnaLeigh tilted the corners of her mouth. "What about the ten rules for marrying a cowboy?"

"What rules?" He rocked her back and forth in his arms.

"And the contract?"

"What contract? I'm a man in love with a beautiful woman, and I'm asking her to marry me. No strings attached."

"Considering we have a daughter who prayed for a mama…"

"And a baby on the way who needs a daddy."

AnnaLeigh's smile bloomed, her heart full of this wonderful man and grateful to a merciful God. "I love you, Holt McNeil, and I'd love to be your wife. For real, this time."

"And you won't keep anything important from me ever again?"

"Never."

"Then I now pronounce us husband and wife."

She bracketed his face with her hands. "You may kiss the bride."

Though police stirred around them and the air threatened to give them bronchitis, a smiling Holt lowered his head and kissed his bride until her knees trembled and her heart raced. This time from joy.