Cowboy's Secret Son. Robin Perini

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      He tugged off his boots, dove into the icy water, and sprinted toward her. He made it to the structure in record time and stopped, treading water in the twenty-five-foot-deep man-made lake. He spun around, desperately searching for her, barely acknowledging the engine from Kevin’s boat closing in.

      She was gone.

      “Alyssa!”

      Jared dove beneath the surface, but with no moonlight shining down, he couldn’t even see his hands in front of him, he could only feel. Frantic, he whirled in the water, reaching out, searching for something, anything to hold on to, to bring her to safety.

      Something long and thin brushed his side. He clutched at it. His fingers clasped the rough surface of bark. A branch. He shoved it away.

      His lungs ached. Just a few seconds more and he’d find her. He could feel it.

      The water burned his eyes. His mind grew fuzzy. Damn it. He had no choice. He needed air. If he drowned, he couldn’t save his wife.

      He kicked to the surface, sucked in a large breath, and submerged beneath the water, but all he could feel was cold, dark and empty. He had no idea which direction to search.

      A circle of light illuminated the darkness above him. The sheriff. Thank God.

      An odd blue-green aura lightened the water around him. At least Jared could make out shapes and shadows.

      A flash of white caught his attention. Nearly out of air again, he swam toward the unusual object.

      His heart skipped a beat. Gauzy white material floated past him in a ghostly blur. He lunged at it but grasped nothing but fabric.

      It must have come off her.

      He swept his arms right and left, each movement more and more desperate. She had to be here. He bumped into something and clutched at it. Another branch?

      No. Not rough wood, but soft skin. A hand. An arm.

      He grabbed at Alyssa and tugged. She wouldn’t budge. He pulled again.

      Still nothing.

      Panic rose in his throat. Lungs nearly bursting, he propelled himself lower, running his hands over her torso and legs until he grasped a thick braid of rope. Sliding his hands down the line, he followed the trail to a large tire.

      The bastard had weighted her down.

      Jared shoved his hand into his pocket and gripped his knife with numbing fingers. Holding it with a death grip, he snapped it open and sawed through the hemp.

      In his head, the seconds ticked by. He couldn’t see. He needed to breathe. The knife slipped and sliced across his thumb. He hardly felt the sting.

      After what seemed an eternity, the last fibers of rope gave way. Alyssa didn’t move.

      He clutched her close. Kicking with everything he had, he catapulted toward the light above.

      Jared broke the surface a few feet from the sheriff’s boat. He sucked in more air. “Help her.”

      Kevin Redmond leaned over the edge of a small boat. “Got her.” He pulled Alyssa in.

      Jared crawled on board.

      “Guy took off in a truck,” the sheriff said. “I lost him.”

      Didn’t matter. Jared would kill the guy later. With shaking hands, he turned his wife over. Her eyes were wide-open, sightless, the white gown draped across her gently swelled belly.

      “Don’t die on me, Alyssa!”

      Jared leaned down and rested his cheek against her mouth, his finger on her neck, but no breath escaped, no pulse throbbed under her skin. Rain pelted them. He ignored it. He pressed his hands against her chest, rhythmically, frantically trying to revive her.

      He’d heard her call out just moments ago.

      “We’ll get her to the hospital,” Kevin shouted. “Keep at it.”

      The boat skidded across the surface of the lake toward the pier.

      A crack echoed through the night when her ribs gave way. Wincing, Jared hesitated for a bare second but kept going.

      He pressed his lips to hers and pushed one breath, two breaths into her lungs.

      The boat stopped. An ambulance would never make it way out here in time.

      “Get the truck started,” Jared didn’t even look up until he heard his beat-up Chevy purr. The headlights shined at them.

      He gazed into his wife’s face, ghostly white. His body went numb. This wasn’t happening.

      “Fight, Alyssa. Please, fight.” He pressed his lips to her cold, wet mouth and puffed in once, twice, praying she’d cough up water.

      She remained still, unmoving.

      Jared scooped her into his arms and raced down the pier. “Don’t give up.” He jumped into the back of the truck and continued performing CPR, willing her to live, willing the family he’d always longed for to survive.

      “Don’t give up. Please, Alyssa. Don’t give up on me, and I promise, I’ll never give up on you.”

       Chapter One

      Present day

      If today’s clear skies had reflected the turmoil twisting Courtney Jamison’s heart into a quivering mass of uncertainty, the forecast should’ve indicated hurricane-gale winds, kiwi-sized hail and lightning slicing between skyscrapers across the city.

      Instead it was a perfectly wonderful day. For most.

      Courtney loved New York. The twenty-four-hour energy, the fashion, the events and especially her position as curator of her grandmother’s legacy—one of the most prestigious art museums in the city.

      She never would have anticipated the last eighteen months, but she’d found a joy she’d never expected. Then, one week ago her world had capsized. Whatever happened in the next hour, she had no doubt her life would never be the same.

      The heavenly scent of brewed coffee laced with a touch of cinnamon wafted through the shop’s air. The churn of blenders and mixers cut through the sounds of engines and horns piercing the door. She waited in this very ordinary setting for news that could destroy her world.

      Maybe she’d been mistaken. After all, she hadn’t been thinking clearly that night eighteen months ago. Just feeling. Maybe her memory of his face, the contour of his cheek, the quirk of his lips when he smiled...maybe the man she’d seen on the news hadn’t been him at all.

      It could happen. No need to borrow trouble when there was enough to be found in the world. The valuable advice had been one of the last bits of wisdom her mother had СКАЧАТЬ