Native Cowboy by Rita Herron Page A

it?”
    Mason clenched his jaw and peeked inside. “No, it’s empty.”
    He glanced at Cara and saw the significance of its meaning sink in. “He left it to me because he believes I’m breaking that mother-child connection.”
    Mason wanted to deny her comment, but he couldn’t.
    Coupled with the Thompson woman’s murder, the threatening notes Cara had received at the clinic, and the fact that someone had broken in and left this pouch, he had to conclude that they were all connected.
    Which meant that Cara and his baby were definitely in danger.
    * * *
    “ Y OU THINK THE PERSON who left this is the same one who killed Nellie?” Cara asked.
    “Yes.” Mason’s gaze met hers. “It also makes me think that he may come after you, Cara.”
    Cara fiddled with the belt to her robe, averting her eyes. “We don’t know that, Mason. In fact, the killer could have randomly chosen Nellie.”
    Mason grunted. “You don’t believe that and neither do I.”
    Cara sank onto the edge of the bed, her stomach churning. “Dear Lord, I hope you’re wrong.”
    “So do I, but I examined those letters you received, and there are a couple that sound threatening.”
    She massaged her lower back. “I can’t believe this is happening. All I wanted to do was to help the women around here.”
    “And you are helping them,” Mason said. “It’s not your fault some sicko targeted you.”
    Cara wanted to believe him, but guilt nagged at her. “But he blames me. He thinks I’m destroying families.”
    “He’s a sick man,” Mason said in a low voice. “He was probably abandoned as a child or his mother gave him up, so now he’s generalized his rage to all mothers who choose adoption.”
    Her gaze swung to his, and a sliver of anger flashed in her eyes. “I don’t tell the women what to do, I only provide counseling to help them cope with their situations.”
    “What about our baby?” Mason asked in a deep voice. “You’re not planning to give our son to someone else to raise, are you?”
    Cara stood, her own temper rising. “No, Mason, I fully intend to raise this child on my own.”
    Mason stepped closer, so close his breath bathed her face.
    “The hell you are. That baby is my son. I don’t intend for him to think that I ran out on him like my old man did.”
    An electric charge simmered between them, taut with tension and memories.
    And the heat that had drawn her to him in the first place.
    She was too exhausted, too frightened, too upset about Nellie to deal with this. “Mason, I can’t talk about it right now. I... All I can think about is Nellie and catching this maniac before he hurts someone else.”
    Mason’s gaze remained on her for a heartbeat, then fell to her belly. The baby chose that moment to kick again, hard enough for her to wince, and Mason laid his hand on her stomach.
    Cara sucked in a sharp breath at the contact, her heart squeezing at the emotions playing across his face as he felt their son move.
    The first time she’d felt that tiny little flutter, she’d been humbled and awed by the realization that a tiny life was growing inside her. She’d imagined a little boy, one with big dark eyes and dark hair like his father.
    Love had swelled within her, overflowing and rousing protective instincts stronger than anything she’d ever felt before.
    Those same emotions were mirrored in Mason’s face now.
    “Cara—”
    “Please,” she whispered, choking back the temptation to rush into his arms. “Please let’s just find Nellie’s killer and then we’ll talk.”
    Mason’s jaw tightened, his breath hissing out between clenched teeth, but he nodded in silent agreement.
    “I’ll send all this to the lab in the morning. For now, go get some rest.”
    “Thanks.” Cara started toward the door to see him out, but he stood stone still.
    “I’m not leaving you here tonight,” Mason said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Not knowing that the man who killed Nellie might have been in your