McCullen's Secret Son. Rita Herron

had been arranged by the toy barn and stable where he’d set them up last night when he was playing rodeo. She was afraid he had his father’s blood in him.

      The horses were knocked over now, the toy barn broken. Sam was supposed to be at Gina’s...

      Her mind racing, she hurried to retrieve her cell phone from her purse and called her neighbor. Please let Sam still be there.

      The phone rang three times, then Gina finally answered. “Hello.”

      “Gina, it’s Willow. Is Sam there?”

      “No, his father picked him up. I hope that was all right.”

      Willow pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a sob. So Sam had come home with Leo.

      Which meant he’d probably witnessed Leo’s murder.

      Fear squeezed the air from her lungs. The man who’d attacked her, warned her not to call the police, that she’d hear from him...

      But when?

      And what was happening to Sam now?

      * * *

      BRETT FELT WRENCHED from the inside out. He’d been living on adrenaline, the high of being a star, of having women throwing themselves at him, and everyone wanting a piece of him for so long, that he didn’t know what to do with himself tonight.

      He knew one thing, though—he did not want a picture of himself at his father’s graveside all over the papers. He’d told his publicist that, and banned her from making any public announcement about his father’s death.

      Grieving for his father and returning to his hometown were private, and he wanted to keep it that way.

      Night had fallen, the cows mooing and horses roaming the pastures soothing as he rose from the creek embankment, climbed on his horse and headed back to the farmhouse. The ranch hands would have been fed by now, the days’ work done, until sunrise when the backbreaking work started all over again.

      If he had to stay here a couple of days to wait on the reading of the will, maybe he’d get up with the hands and pitch in. Nothing like working up a sweat hauling hay, rounding cattle or mending fences to take his mind off the fact that he’d never see his daddy again.

      It made him think about his mother and how he’d felt at eight when she’d died. He’d run home from the school bus that day, anxious for a hug and to tell her about the school rodeo he’d signed up for, but the minute he’d walked in and seen his daddy crying, he’d known something was terribly wrong.

      And that his life would never be the same.

      Damn drunk driver had turned his world upside down.

      Shaking off the desolate feeling the memory triggered, he reminded himself that he had made a success out of himself. He had friends...well, not friends, really. But he was surrounded by people all the time.

      He’d thought that the crowd loving him would somehow fill the empty hole inside him. That having folks cheer for him and yell his name meant they loved him.

      But they loved the rodeo star. If he didn’t have that, no one would give him a second look.

      The breeze invigorated him as he galloped across the pasture. When he reached the ranch, he spotted Maddox outside with a woman. Moonlight played off the front yard, and he yanked on the reins to slow his horse as he realized he was intruding on a private moment. He steered the animal behind a cluster of trees, waiting in the shadows.

      Maddox was on his knees, and so was the woman he was with. They were kissing like they couldn’t get enough of each other.

      The two of them finally pulled back for a breath, and Brett froze as he saw Maddox slide a ring on the woman’s finger.

      His brother had just proposed.

      He should be glad for Maddox. His older brother had taken his mother’s death hard, and he and their daddy had been close.

      Maddox had obviously found love. Good for him.

      He tightened his fingers around the reins, turned the gelding around and rode back to the stables.

      Something about seeing Maddox with that woman made him feel even more alone than he had before.

      * * *

      WILLOW COULDN’T STAND to look at Leo’s dead body.

      She needed to call the police. But what if the killer was watching her and the sheriff came, and he saw her and hurt her son?

      She paced to the living room, frantic. She needed help. She couldn’t do this alone.

      But calling Sheriff McCullen was out of the question.

      Brett’s face flashed behind her eyes. She hadn’t talked to him since he’d left five years ago. When they’d made love that night, she’d thought that Brett might be rethinking his career, that he might have missed her. That he might have contemplated returning to her.

      But the next day he’d left town without a word.

      Still, he was Sam’s father. Even if he didn’t know it.

      Heaven help her...he’d be furious with her for not telling him. Although years ago, he’d made it plain and clear that he didn’t intend to settle down or stay in Pistol Whip. A wife and a child would have cramped his style and kept him from chasing his dreams.

      And Willow refused to trap him. He would only have resented her and Sam.

      Would he help her now?

      She picked up Sam’s photo and studied her precious little boy’s face, and she decided it didn’t matter. It might be a bad time for Brett, but her son was in danger, and she’d do anything to save him.

      Her hand trembled as she phoned the McCullen house. Mama Mary answered, and she asked to speak to Brett.

      “He’s out riding, can I take a message or tell him who called?”

      “It’s Willow James. And it’s important,” she said. “Can you give me his cell phone number?”

      “Why sure thing, Ms. Willow.” Mama Mary repeated it and Willow ended the call abruptly, then called Brett’s mobile. Nerves gripped her as she waited on him to answer. What if he didn’t pick up? He might not want to talk to her at all.

      The phone clicked, then his deep voice echoed back. “Hello.”

      “Brett, it’s Willow.”

      Dead silence, then his sharp intake of breath. “Yeah?”

      “I’m sorry about your father,” she said quickly. “But I...need to see you tonight.”

      “What?” His voice sounded gruff, a note of surprise roughening it.

      “Please,” Willow cried. “I...can’t explain, but it’s a matter of life and death.”

       Chapter Three

      Brett clenched his phone in a white-knuckled grip as he paced the barn. He hadn’t seen or talked to Willow in years, and she hadn’t attended his father’s funeral today. Even as he’d told himself he didn’t care if she came, he’d looked for her.

      But now she wanted to see him?

      It’s a matter of life and death.

      What the hell was going on?

      He cleared his throat. Once upon a time, he’d have jumped and run at a moment’s notice if Willow had called. But she was a married woman now. “What’s wrong, Willow?”

      “I can’t explain on the phone,” she said, her voice strained. “Please, Brett... I don’t know what else to do. Who to call.”

      His gut tightened at the desperation