Wanted. Delores Fossen

is looking into who just hired Dean Mobley for his new civilian job with the watchdog group,” Wyatt went on. “But his new employer is actually a dummy corporation. A good front, though, and it won’t be hard to break through the layers, especially since it was probably set up just to hire him. It’ll disappear as soon as they’re finished with Mobley and you.”

      She thought about that a moment. “How’d you know my boss would be offered this new job?”

      “Criminal informant. The same one who said I’d signed your death warrant.”

      The new info whirled through her head like a tornado, and even though Lyla wanted to appear strong and resolute, she wasn’t. To make matters worse, she had a sudden dizzy spell and would have sagged to the floor if Wyatt hadn’t caught her.

      But he didn’t just catch her.

      He scooped her up in his arms and deposited her on the leather sofa positioned in front of a massive wall of books.

      “You need me to call a doctor?” he asked, going to the small fridge in the corner. He brought her back a bottle of water, and he opened it for her. The man certainly knew how to take control.

      Something she had to put a stop to.

      “No doctor. I just get dizzy sometimes.”

      She wouldn’t mention the occasional morning sickness and these strange hormonal changes in her body. Sometimes she felt like crying her eyes out, and other times she felt like a randy teenager.

      Heck, she hadn’t been a randy teenager even when she was in her teens.

      Her body was playing one of those stupid hormone tricks on her now. Probably because Wyatt was there, just inches away, with his drop-dead-hot face looking down at her.

      Like her earlier thoughts, she pushed that hormone surge aside, too.

      She had help with that. Also practically right in her face was the photo on the end table. A beautiful woman in a wedding dress. Smiling from ear to ear, and her dreamy smile was directed to her equally dreamy husband.

      Wyatt.

      “My wife,” he explained, following her gaze. “Ann passed away two years ago from a rare blood disorder.”

      “I’m sorry,” Lyla said, because she didn’t know what else to say. Words wouldn’t help the hurt that she still heard in his voice. But since he’d brought up his wife, it was time to start addressing the thousand-pound gorilla in the room.

      “Why do you think I got your embryo?” she asked.

      He did another of those effortless shrugs. “It went missing, and the theft was well hidden. The clinic didn’t discover it until last month. Since then, I’ve tried to locate every woman in the state who used a donor embryo to get pregnant. Only twenty-three.”

      “That you know of,” she argued. “Maybe some clinics keep that private, since the law requires it.”

      He gave her a flat look. “I am the law, and I was looking for something that belonged to me.”

      Yes, and he’d obviously been tenacious. “There’s no proof I’m carrying your baby.”

      “You’re the only one who makes sense. There was the wife of a high-level D.A. looking for a donor embryo, but the Webb investigation couldn’t have been shifted to him. You’re the only one who could affect the outcome of this case.”

      She shook her head. “That still doesn’t prove it.”

      “No, but a test would, and we’re lucky that you’ve already had an amnio.”

      Lyla flinched. “How’d you know that?”

      Another flat look. “I had someone look into your medical records.”

      “You hacked them.”

      “Yeah,” he readily admitted, and he wasn’t apologizing for it. “You had one done three weeks ago to rule out a uterine infection. You didn’t have an infection, but at your request the doctor didn’t provide you with other info.”

      “I didn’t want to know if it was a boy or girl.”

      “That’s fine. That’s not important anyway, but what is important is that test would have given me confirmation that you’re carrying my child.”

      It would. And that suddenly terrified her. If this was his baby, there was no chance this man would just back away. “I can call the doctor and ask for the results.” Even though that was the last thing she wanted to do.

      She really had to get out of there, and she reached in her purse for her phone.

      Wyatt stopped her again. “Your test results were stolen.”

      Lyla looked up at him, blinked. “Wh-what?”

      “Stolen,” he repeated. “The doctor hasn’t told you yet because I’m not sure he knows. The results went missing from the lab, but there’s another sample of the amniotic fluid. The thief didn’t manage to get that, because it was stored at a different location in case the doctor wanted it retested.”

      Oh, God. All of this had gone on, and she hadn’t even known about it.

      “I’m having that second sample of amniotic fluid tested,” Wyatt explained. But he wasn’t so calm and cool right now. A muscle flickered in his jaw. “And I should have the results in a day or two.”

      “I should be the one to get those results,” she challenged.

      But that was as far as her challenge got, because his phone rang. Maybe because he thought she might bolt, Wyatt kept his eyes on her while he took the call.

      “Declan,” he greeted, and even though she couldn’t hear what his brother was saying, it caused his forehead to bunch up. “I’m putting you on speaker so Lyla can hear this.”

      Please, not another death threat or news of some other violation to her privacy that she was just being informed about.

      A moment later, his brother’s voice began to pour through the room. “As I said, the lab lifted a print off the camera, and we got a match. Nicky Garnett. He’s got a record a mile long.”

      Lyla shook her head. The name meant nothing to her. “You know him?”

      “We know him,” Declan confirmed. “He works muscle for a rich rancher, Travis Weston. No record for him, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t have one. The man’s dirty and with plenty of money to cover his dirty tracks.”

      Another head shake. “What does this Travis Weston have to do with me?” she asked.

      Declan didn’t jump to answer that time. “I’ll let Wyatt finish the explanation, and I’ll get started on bringing Travis in for a little chat.”

      “Do that,” Wyatt agreed, and he ended the call and looked at her. “Travis and Jonah Webb were old friends.”

      Oh, she didn’t like the direction this was going. She’d just been put in charge of the evidence gathered from Webb’s murder, and now his old friend had ties to a man who’d not only spied on her but had fired shots at Wyatt?

      “Webb used to send some of the boys from Rocky Creek to work on Travis’s ranch,” Wyatt continued. “Including me. At best the arrangement was shady, probably illegal, and there were rumors that Travis used some of the boys to move illegal weapons in and out of Mexico.”

      She pulled in her breath. “He used you for that?”

      Wyatt shook his head. “Probably because Kirby was looking out for me. Kirby was a marshal at the time. A good one. And they wouldn’t have wanted him to have an insider like me in on their schemes.”

      Lyla tried to make sense of all of this, but she couldn’t. “So, maybe Travis wants to make sure I help prosecute his friend’s killer? Maybe he doesn’t want me dead after all.”