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CHAPTER TWELVE

S omeone was breaking into her home.

Claire grabbed her gun from the side table. She normally kept it locked in a safe, high in her closet, to keep it far from Jacob’s reach. But he was with her parents. Since the attacks on her life, Claire kept her gun close by.

Gavin was already racing for the back door, his own weapon in his hand, determination etched on his face. Claire started to follow and realized she had no shoes on. With a frustrated growl, she wrestled a pair of boots onto her feet, losing precious seconds in the process. She didn’t want Gavin intercepting the killer by himself. It was too dangerous.

The cold air stung her lungs as she slipped out of the house into the night. Gavin was halfway across the yard. Another shadowy figure dressed in black and a ski mask ran toward the lake. Claire leapt off the porch to join the pursuit.

“Police,” Gavin shouted. “Freeze.”

The criminal whirled. Lights along the walkway glinted off the gun in his hand. Claire dropped to the ground half a heartbeat before a bullet whizzed past her head. It thudded into the porch pillar. She rolled, seeking cover behind a wood pile. The thorns from a rose bush pulled at her clothes and pricked her exposed skin. She barely felt the sting. The sound of her heartbeat filled her ears.

Gavin. Had he been hit? She peeked out from behind the wood pile. Relief washed over Claire at the sight of his familiar form, unharmed, behind a massive oak tree.

The shooter ran. He disappeared into the woods. Claire rose and reentered the pursuit. She was hot on Gavin’s heels when the sound of an engine filled the night air. Water on the lake rippled as a boat flew across the surface. The killer was getting away.

No. She couldn’t let that happen.

“The boathouse.” Claire skidded to a stop and changed directions. Her breath came in rapid bursts. Gavin’s boots pounded behind her. She punched the security code into the door and yanked it open.

Her father’s boat bobbed in the water. Another code in the lock box next to the door produced the key. Seconds later, Claire removed the rope from the mooring post. She shoved the key into the ignition and turned it. The engine sputtered to life.

“Hold on,” Claire ordered Gavin. He grabbed onto a railing with one hand. The other kept his weapon at the ready.

She pushed the throttle forward and the vessel jumped free of the boathouse. Spray hit Claire in the face, chilling her overheated skin, as she steered in the direction of the shooter. His boat skimmed across the empty lake. He had a head start, but not for long. Claire upped her speed, pushing her small vessel to the max. They had to overtake him.

Trees whipped past as she shot along the shoreline. The steering wheel under her palm rattled in an unfamiliar way. Claire’s initial instinct was to ignore it, but something about the engine’s growl was also wrong. An urge she couldn’t explain overtook her. She had to look at the mechanism.

“Gavin, take the helm.” Claire screamed the words to be heard over the wind.

Without question, Gavin moved to replace her, his strong hand gripping the steering wheel. His gaze was locked on the criminal in front of them. Claire hurried to the back of the boat. She popped open the lid on the engine compartment.

Her heart stopped. Then a roaring rush filled her ears, drowning out everything. Dynamite sticks were attached to the engine. An old-fashioned alarm clock counted down the seconds like something out of a movie.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

“Bomb.” Claire yelled the word, but the wind snatched it away. She whirled and raced toward Gavin. “Bomb! Bomb! Bomb!”

His head snapped to her. She didn’t stop running or mentally counting down the seconds. The boat’s engine slowed, as Gavin decreased their speed, and the wind lessening.

Four.

Claire grabbed Gavin’s hand. She yanked him to the side of the boat. The lake water was inky black and freezing, but they didn’t have a choice. Gavin must’ve come to the same conclusion because he grabbed a long flotation device, twisting the string around his wrist.

Three.

She scrambled up the side of the vessel, still holding onto Gavin’s hand.

Two.

Claire’s adrenaline and survival instincts were guiding her. All that mattered was getting off the boat. “Jump!”

Claire pushed off with her legs, flying through the cold night air.

One.

The boat exploded. Heat seared her back as the force of the bomb tore her fingers from Gavin’s. The icy water enveloped her, shocking her with its intensity. For a terrifying moment, Claire tumbled through the darkness, lost and confused. Then she registered light above her. She kicked toward it, the boots on her feet slowing her down. She shoved them off with her hands. Her lungs screamed for oxygen.

She broke the lake’s surface and sucked in a breath. Her hair was plastered to her head. Through the strands, the fragments of her father’s boat were visible. Several pieces were on fire. Claire spun in a circle, horror stealing her breath. Where was Gavin?

He was nowhere to be seen. She screamed his name, the word coming out weak. Claire’s teeth chattered. Hypothermia was setting in. Tears threatened to overwhelm her, but she shoved them back down.

No. Gavin couldn’t be dead.

Please, Lord, help me.

“Gavin!” she yelled with all her strength. No answer. Her gaze flickered across the wreckage.

There. The flotation device he’d grabbed as they ran to the boat’s side. Claire used long strokes to reach it. Her childhood summers swimming in the lake had made her strong and capable in the water. The freezing temperatures, however, could kill them both. If Gavin wasn’t already dead. He was underwater.

Her fingers fumbled with the string. She found Gavin’s wrist and hauled him to the surface. Moonlight and the dwindling fires from the explosion revealed a bloody gash on his head. He must’ve been knocked out by a piece of debris. Claire placed her finger under his nose, but couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

There wasn’t time. She needed to get to shore. “Don’t you dare die on me, Gavin Sterling. Do you hear me?”

Her fingers and toes were numb. Claire’s teeth chattered so hard, it hurt. She ignored everything. Keeping her gaze locked on the tree line, she swam. Claire prayed with every stroke. For strength. For Gavin’s life. For her own.

Blessedly, her feet hit bottom. Claire hauled Gavin closer to shore, using the last dredges of her energy to pull him free of the water. Her fingers shook uncontrollably. Still, she tried to find a pulse on Gavin’s neck. His skin was so pale.

Nothing.

No. No. No. She screamed the words in her head, even as she threw herself down on his chest, pressing her ear over his rib cage. Her fingers were too cold, too numb to check for his pulse. She had to listen for his heartbeat.

Claire held her breath.

Gavin rolled his shoulders as he buttoned his shirt in the hospital bathroom. Every muscle in his body ached, and despite the pain medication, his head throbbed. The gash near his hairline required thirteen stitches. A mild concussion and nearly drowning had earned him an overnight visit in the hospital. The doctor signed his release half an hour ago.

He opened the door leading to his room. Claire stood next to the window. She’d been examined for hypothermia and released. Their near death experience hadn’t prevented her from staying by his side for the entire night. She’d slept in the recliner next to his bed. Every time he awoke, in pain or confused, she’d been right there, holding his hand.

She turned, a smile playing on her beautiful lips. “You look much better than you did thirty minutes ago.”

“It’s amazing what a shower and clean clothes can do.” He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. Claire sank into his embrace with a sigh. Her head rested against his chest. Gavin brushed a kiss across the top of her head, tenderness sweeping over him. “How are you doing?”

“Better now.” She tightened her arms around his waist. “Let’s never do that again, okay?”

“Which part? The bomb on the boat, nearly drowning, or hypothermia?”

“All the above.” She tilted her head to look him in the face. “You scared me, Gavin, and I don’t frighten easily.”

The look in her eyes…it was his undoing. He bent his head and kissed her gently. These feelings between them were uncontrollable. And growing with every moment together. Gavin couldn’t, in good conscience, continue without being fully honest with Claire.

He pulled back. “We need to talk. I know it’s not the best time, considering everything that’s going on, but things between us…”

“Are getting more serious than either of us intended?” Claire nodded. “I know. I feel it too. I care about you, Gavin. Pulling you from the lake last night, not knowing if you were dead…my feelings for you are deeper than I realized.”

“It’s the same for me, but I don’t want to mislead you. Ever.”

Confusion flickered across her face. “Okay.”

He took a bracing breath, ignoring the faint ache in his lungs. “Five years ago, I was a different person. My faith in God had faltered, and my lifestyle showed it. I met a woman named Willow through some mutual friends and we hit it off. Marriage and a family weren’t on my mind. I was focused entirely on my job, on becoming a Texas Ranger.”

Embarrassment heated his cheeks. Gavin released Claire and turned toward the window, crossing his arms over his chest. “Willow accidentally became pregnant. Our relationship was on the rocks at the time, but I pushed that aside and proposed. I wanted to do right by her. By the baby.”

Claire was silent. Gavin didn’t dare glance in her direction. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she was thinking.

“A week before our wedding, Willow miscarried. She was devastated. So was I. It’s hard to explain, but the baby was real to me. I’d been thinking about names. Imagining a little girl with my mother’s dark eyes or a son with my curly hair.”

He swallowed down the bite of pain that lingered, even after all this time. He felt rather than heard Claire draw closer. She wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned into him. “I’m sorry, Gavin. That must’ve been incredibly hard.”

Her kind words caused a lump to form in his throat. He placed a hand over hers. “Willow called off our engagement. At first, I thought it was grief talking. But then…she said I would never make a good husband or father. That my work is all that matters to me. She wasn’t wrong, Claire. Being a Texas Ranger has been my goal since I was young. It’s my life.”

“I understand that better than almost anyone. My job as sheriff is part of who I am, but I won’t lie. It’s a struggle to manage Jacob and my career.” She circled to stand in front of him. Claire searched his face. “I can understand why you’re hesitating, but are you saying you don’t even want to try?”

“I don’t know.” He cupped her face. “You’re amazing. So is Jacob. You both deserve the very best. I’m not sure that’s me.”

A knock came on the door, interrupting their conversation. Gavin swallowed a growl of frustration and released Claire. “Come in.”

Ryker pushed open the door. Mud coated the bottom of his jeans and his boots. A streak was on his shirt as well. Scruff covered the lower half of his face and his hair was sticking up in jagged peaks, as if he’d been running his hands through it. Dark circles shadowed the area under his eyes. He looked like a man who’d been up all night, probably because he had.

In one hand, Ryker carried a tray of coffees. Relief flashed across his features. “Good to see you standing on two feet again, Gavin. You still look terrible though.”

“Nice to see you too. You don’t look so great yourself. And what is that smell? Did you roll in a dumpster?”

“Nope, it’s lake water.” He flashed a grin. “You owe me, by the way. Not only did I make sure the paramedics got to you in time last night, but I brought you a double espresso with extra foam this morning.”

“Hey,” Claire chimed in. “I’m the one who dragged him from the lake. You can’t take all the credit, Ryker.”

They all laughed. Gavin took the coffee Ryker extended and, ignoring the fish smell wafting off his friend, embraced him in a manly hug. Then he shoved him away. “Ugh, you smell like a sewer.”

“Not all of us got a luxurious stay in a warm bed with pretty nurses attending to our every need. I was busy working.” Ryker settled on the bed, careful to keep his muddy boots off the sheets. “There’s not much left of the bomb or the boat. Based on Claire’s description, the device was homemade. I believe the killer planted it on the boat during the break-in a few days ago. The destruction in the boathouse was designed to throw us off track.”

Gavin had come to the same conclusion this morning, once the grogginess of his pain meds wore off. “I underestimated him again.”

Ryker pinned him with a stare. “We all did. This isn’t just on you. Since the Chosen’s logo was scrawled on the message written on the boathouse wall, I went back to question Xavier. He’s missing.”

“What do you mean he’s missing?”

“His wife hasn’t seen him for three days. I questioned neighbors and some known members of the Chosen. No one has seen him.”

Claire sank into the recliner. “So Xavier could be the one behind this?”

“Possibly. I’ve got more news. Luke finally got in touch with Alex’s friend. The one he supposedly stayed with on the night of Faye’s murder.” Ryker lifted his brows. “The alibi doesn’t pan out. According to the friend, Alex arrived after midnight and was gone early in the morning.”

Gavin stiffened. “So he could’ve killed Faye, and then driven to Houston to murder the private investigator she hired. Then he could’ve stayed with his friend, but got up early to be at the emergency clinic in time to shoot at Claire the next morning.”

“Yep. Luke’s picking Alex up and bringing him to the sheriff’s department for questioning.” Ryker stood, a grin spreading across his face. “Either of you want to join us?”