Page 13 of Clara's Secure Hideaway

She winced. “Evidence. Such a cold, cruel word to describe something so sweet that held so much meaning. My mom made Davey that blanket when I was pregnant. It’s his favorite. He sleeps with it every night. I can’t believe I forgot it when we left last night, but we were in such a hurry. And now it’s nothing more than evidence against a father who’ll do anything to inflict pain on his mother.”

“I’m sorry, Clara.”

“Go ahead and file that restraining order.” She set her mouth in a firm line, silent determination coming off of her in waves.

Pride constricted his throat, and he struggled to keep on his mask of professionalism. She was doing exactly what she needed to protect herself, and now that she agreed to take legal action, he could pay the sonofabitch a visit and let him know he planned on doing everything he could to keep Clara and her kids safe.

* * *

Hoveringthe cursor over the submit button, Clara stared at the computer screen and second-guessed her decision to take more legal action against Mitch. Maybe he’d made his point. He’d had his moment and would just move on with his life, forgetting about the wife and kids he didn’t love. No way would he do something so extreme that he’d risk going back to jail.

But deep down, she knew that was nothing more than wishful thinking. Hell, it wasn’t even deep down. No doubt Mitch’s game of revenge had just begun.

“You doing okay?”

The sound of Heath’s deep baritone made her jump. She slapped a hand over her heart and turned on the hard desk chair to face him.

He stood in the doorway. Concern in his kind eyes. There was something disconcerting about the way he stared at her, as though he saw through her—understood what went on in her head. But instead of it making her uneasy, it made her feel like she had an ally.

Her gaze dropped down to the yellow evidence bag in his hands, and her stomach revolted. Before answering him, she faced the computer and clicked the button to submit her forms. Worry and relief twisted together like a pretzel inside her. “I’m fine. Just a little unsettled and wondering what’s next.”

Crossing through the room, he settled on the edge of the sofa and slid a black backpack from his shoulders onto the floor. He stretched out his long legs and placed the evidence bag on the couch with extreme care. “Now we can get you an emergency order against Mitch. That means you don’t have to go to court or face Mitch. The order will be delivered to him.”

“By who?”

“Me.”

The single word was said with so much force, so much power, she could almost believe everything would be all right.

“He won’t take that well,” she said, a strong impulse to warn him pushing her to speak. Mitch was a bully through and through, and not even a sheriff’s deputy would dissuade him.

“You let me worry about that.” He shifted his gaze toward the leather-bound books lining the shelves. “I’ll get all this filed right away then go directly to speak to Mitch about the restraining order. In the meantime, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

“How will you know where to find him?” she asked. “Last night, it sounded like he planned to come right back to the house and stay.”

“His probation officer should have that information. Tracking him down shouldn’t take too much time.”

A thought crashed against her, spiking her anxiety. “He broke into my house.”

Heath stilled, eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”

She flicked her wrist toward the evidence bag. “The blanket. We left in a rush, grabbing only what we needed. Davey’s blanket was in his room. The only way Mitch could have gotten that blanket was to enter the house last night and take it.”

Expression hardening, Heath muttered curses under his breath. “If he broke into your home, you can file further charges against him. Especially if he had no key or no permission granted for entry.”

She shook her head, anger heating her blood. He’d come back just like he’d promised. Thank God she hadn’t been there. “He had neither. I changed the locks while he was in jail, and I told him last night to leave the house—you can ask Laura Sulley. She was on the phone with me during the entire conversation. His name isn’t on any of the paperwork for the home either.”

“This could be enough to put him back in jail. We should go back to your home and see if he took anything else. The more weight we can add to these allegations the better.”

She was about to agree when Davey and Avery burst into the library. A tiny flour-covered apron was hooked around Davey’s neck and tied around his waist. Avery’s dark hair had been pulled back to a stubby ponytail.

Davey ran past the fireplace and grinned up at Heath. “Hi! I made muffins today. Do you want one?”

Heath ruffled Davey’s hair. “What kind of muffins?”

“Blueberry.”

“Well, that is my favorite.”

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