He bent at the knees and examined the spot closely. Several footprints were clear and visible. And less than half the size of his. He scooped a little mud onto his finger and sniffed. The sweet scent of cherries tickled his nose. He doubted many criminals drank cherry Kool-Aid while breaking and entering. Just so happened the boys had red Kool-Aid for dinner.

Mitchell rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.

He didn't want to get the boys in trouble, but he couldn't let Lorenda go on thinking that someone had tried to break in either. For the first time, he understood how hard parenting must be. And how frustrating it must be to see your kids mess up. This was a minor thing. Almost funny. He'd get a big laugh out of it if it weren't for the fact that the boys were obviously trying to find ways to keep him from leaving. If something this small caused his gut to twist with worry over their future, then Mitchell must've made his parents' lives a living hell.

He went back inside. "All clear." He turned on the lamp. "You guys can get back in bed. No one is out there." He should tell Lorenda. Out Trevor and Jaycee right then before their shenanigans grew to the point of his and Cameron's and one or both of them ended up in the military. Or worse.

"Should we call the sheriff?" Lorenda asked as the boys scrambled back into their beds.

Mitchell shook his head and gave her a look that communicated, let's talk in private.

She tucked them in, left the lamp on, and followed Mitchell into the den.

When he turned she was right in front of him, so close he could hear her breaths, still a little heavy from the rush of adrenaline.

"I . . ." He ran a hand through his hair.

"What is it, Mitchell?" Panic rose in her voice again.

"It's nothing to worry about." Not true. She'd been right. The bond that had so quickly and naturally formed between him and the boys was going to devastate them when Mitchell left. Him just as much as Trevor and Jaycee. "I think the boys set us up."

"What? Wait. What?" Her tone was confused.

He explained the whole mess. When her breaths grew heavier and an angry expression replaced the lines of worry, he ran both hands down her arms. "Don't come down on them. This is my fault."

She let her eyes slide shut for a moment. "Mitchell, you can't take the blame for everything. Stop being a martyr."

"Maybe you were right about me not living here, but I'm not leaving you alone."

"This whole mugger thing could take months or even years to go to trial. I won't let this turn my life upside down for that long. I'm staying here where I belong." She stood her ground, and the look in her eyes said she wasn't backing down.

Neither was he.

"Then I'm staying too, Sparky."

But first thing tomorrow he was going to see his dad to find out how long it'd be before the trial took place. The sooner the better-before Mitchell destroyed two little boys in the process. The same two little boys he was trying to protect.

Chapter Nine.

Mitchell offered to take the boys by his mom's house the next morning while Lorenda showed a few properties to a client. Perfect excuse to visit his mom and have a word with his dad to offer an olive branch for Lorenda and the kids' sakes.

Badass Becky's pointing finger was smoking when Mitchell got there because his dad was at the office on a Saturday. Had refused to hire a new deputy or two, claiming no one was qualified, and was working twenty-four seven because of it. The one thing that seemed to have his mom blowing off the smoke from the tip of that finger and holstering it was Jaycee and Trevor.

So he left the boys in good hands and headed for the sheriff's office. A row of small houses lined the road on the other side of the street, and he passed two kids flying a kite in one of the yards. Mitchell looked up.

The bright-red kite and its long colorful tail were stark against the blue sky, and it gave him a sense of comfort. A sense of home. So did the woman, two kids, and ugly dog he was currently living with.

Too bad no one else in this town made him feel so welcomed. If not for his mother, he wouldn't have come back at all. If not for Lorenda and the kids and the pull they had on him, he wouldn't be staying.

But Mitchell's gut wouldn't stop sending an SOS signal to his brain that something wasn't right with the whole situation surrounding Lorenda, so he had to stay at least a little while longer. Maybe if he kept approaching his dad with Lorenda and the kids' safety in mind, the old man would finally listen.

Hell, who was Mitchell kidding? His father-so levelheaded, so fearless, so beloved by the community-had been blind to Mitchell's strengths and Cameron's weaknesses since they were little boys. Just because Mitchell wouldn't walk the sheriff's rigid chalk line. Cameron had followed all the rules, at least when everyone was watching.

Mitchell pulled up to a four-way stop behind another truck and waited his turn.

Cameron's good-twin facade was partially Mitchell's fault. He'd been happy to accept the blame for Cameron's screwups as soon as Mitchell was old enough to realize that their mischief caused ripples in the nicely starched fabric of their hard-nosed father's world. His dad's inability to accept that Mitchell wasn't his carbon copy, his insistence that Mitchell never quite measured up the way Cameron did, had made Mitchell want to goad his dad all the more during his stupid youth.

Apparently Cameron had used Mitchell as an excuse to stay in the military rather than come home to his family. Which was just one more reason for Dad to resent the less-perfect son. Especially when Cameron finally did come home in a box with a flag draped over it.

Mitchell dialed his ex-commander's personal cell number and put the phone to his ear. He'd postponed it long enough, and after last night's phony break-in, it was time. The car in front of him pulled away. With a wrist flung over the steering wheel, Mitchell rolled forward to the stop sign.

If Mitchell had made Cameron take responsibility for his own crap, he might still be alive to look after Lorenda and the boys.

Then again, maybe Cameron would've come up with another excuse to stay away, because he'd made it clear he wasn't much interested in coming back to Red River or his family. His reasons still had Mitchell stumped. He understood better than anyone that war changed a person, but Cam had become an empty shell. A robot.

Now that Mitchell saw the kind of woman Lorenda had become-so beautiful, so feminine, so different from the callous soldiers Mitchell was used to-he couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere else if he'd been the lucky one married to her.

On the fourth ring, Mitchell motioned to the only other vehicle left at the four-way stop. The driver, an older gentleman wearing a camo billed cap, frowned at Mitchell as he meandered past. An older couple, obviously out for a stroll on such a beautiful day, stopped at the intersection and waited. Mitchell waved them through. They studied him for a second, and then one whispered to the other and pointed.

Mitchell smiled at them and waved. They kept the same stony look on their faces and didn't lift a finger to wave back.

Mitchell pinched the bridge of his nose while the phone kept ringing and snatched his aviators off the dash to hide an eye roll. He doubted giving the locals more attitude, like he had growing up, would help win back their trust. One of them would likely be on the phone to the sheriff before Mitchell hit the next intersection. Or worse. They might call Badass Becky.

Mitchell shook off a shiver and then punched the accelerator.

He'd rather keep driving right through Red River. Right out of town. The job he was about to give up would've put him right back in the only profession he was qualified for. A job that would make him top dawg for a change, in charge of his own team. With people who actually liked him. People who didn't hold mistakes against him but appreciated the years he'd spent serving.

He turned left onto Main Street just as Allen Carson's voice mail answered. Mitchell waited for the beep.

"Allen, it's Mitchell. Listen, buddy." Mitchell paused. Was he really this stupid? He exhaled. Yep. He really was. "I'll have to take a rain check on the job. I've got family stuff to deal with."

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw.

Coming back to Red River because his mother asked him to was a good reason, but staying to protect Lorenda and the kids was his duty. Protecting is what he did. The only thing he'd ever done well. And since Cameron hadn't gotten the job done even when he was still alive, Mitchell couldn't help but feel responsible, at least on some level.

Wasn't it in the Man Rules? Or the Bible?

Unfortunately, a rule against coveting another man's wife was too, and Mitchell was already breaking that one every time he laid eyes on Lorenda.

"Call me when you get the chance, and we'll talk." He disconnected before pulling into the sheriff's office parking lot.

At the front glass doors, Mitchell pulled off his sunglasses and hung them from the front of his shirt. Maureen sat behind the reception desk wearing a red T-shirt that said, "If at first you don't succeed, reload and try again." A pencil was inserted into her backcombed hair to rest behind her ear.

"Is my dad in?" Mitchell shoved his hands into his pockets and waited for the usual cold-shoulder response he got from most of the residents of Red River. Especially from those close to his dad.

Maureen studied him like a protective momma bear, and Mitchell had to respect that.

Not one strand of her big hair moved when she finally nodded. "Let me see if he's available." Code for I doubt the sheriff wants to see you. She directed him toward the waiting room with a pointy red fingernail. "Have a seat."

"Yes, ma'am." Mitchell flashed a smile at her, because it didn't hurt to score points with the old man's assistant. During many of their phone conversations, Mom had mentioned how much influence Maureen had over his dad. A fact that Badass Becky worked to her advantage by enlisting Maureen as an ally when it came to his father's health and stress level.

Maureen's raised brown eyebrow told him her BS radar had just caught him doing sixty in a thirty-five.

He parked his butt in one of the plush waiting-room chairs, while she disappeared down the hall.

He looked around his father's brand-new digs since he hadn't been able to pay much attention when he'd been here the day of the mugging.

Nice. Quite a step up from the old office that could've doubled as Sheriff Taylor and Deputy Fife's station. A lot of chrome, a lot of black and white, a lot of glass. Way too modern for his father's taste.

A man as rigid as his dad didn't take change well, and Mitchell couldn't help but wonder if the new office had contributed to his father's stress. Maybe the modern decor was a sign that his father couldn't keep up with the changing times.

Maureen reappeared, her fair skin more red than before. "He's . . . indisposed."

Indisposed. Right. Mitchell sat forward. "Tell him it's about Lorenda and the boys. I'm sure their safety is just as important to him as it is to me."

Maureen's brown eyes narrowed like she wanted to ask him to leave. Or throw him out at gunpoint if the T-shirt were any indication.

Mitchell lounged back in his chair and crossed an ankle over his thigh. "I can wait here all day until he is available."

She folded both arms over her sizeable chest and tapped a foot.

Ah hell, go big or go home. He grabbed Field & Stream off the table and thumbed through it like he really did intend to wait as long as necessary.

With a huff, Maureen disappeared down the hall again.

As he was right in the middle of reading last hunting season's rut report, Maureen reappeared.

"Down the hall to the right." She turned her back to Mitchell and pulled open a filing cabinet drawer. Head down, she flipped through the contents, and Mitchell made his way to his father's office.

"Make it quick." His father never looked up from the paperwork on the black lacquered desk. Matching bookcases lined the walls directly behind the desk, a folded American flag sitting encased high on one of the shelves.

Mitchell didn't have to ask where it had come from. Or why his dad displayed it so proudly. Lorenda had given it to the old man the day they'd laid Cam to rest with a twenty-one-gun salute.

Mitchell drew in a pained breath. Since his dad didn't offer one of the black leather-and-chrome armchairs, Mitchell kept standing. "Is there any way to keep tabs on Lorenda's mugger?"

"Not unless he doesn't show up for his trial." His dad scribbled something on a form and flipped the page.

"How long will that take?"

His dad didn't answer. Just kept scribbling and flipping.

"In the meantime, is there anything we can do?" Mitchell asked.

"Not legally. I'd have him watched at a distance if I had the manpower." His tight mouth turned down in a frown, and his writing faltered for a second. "But I don't. I had to fire a deputy last month, and the other quit to make more money in a bigger city. I haven't found a replacement with the skills that go with the job."

Mitchell studied the top of his dad's graying hair. His badge. His clean and crisp uniform.

An idea flickered to life. "Deputize me. I'll do it for free."

For the first time since Mitchell had walked in, his dad's head lifted and he looked Mitchell in the eye. "You've got to be kidding."

"Why not? I've got more than enough training."

"With your reputation in this town?" The sheriff's tone was patronizing. Belittling. The same tone he'd used every time the much younger Mitchell had expected his dad to give him the benefit of the doubt. "That's the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard."

A sharp sting settled in Mitchell's chest. That tone held all the rumors and sins that had long since caused the court of public opinion to find Mitchell guilty. He fought to keep his anger in check.

If it were just about him and his already broken relationship with his father, he'd get up and walk out without so much as a backward glance. But it wasn't about either of them. It was about at least trying to keep his promise to his mother to make amends. And it was certainly about looking out for Lorenda and the boys, something all of the Lawsons owed her.

"Just until the guy is convicted. After that I'm leaving town anyway, so what do you have to lose?"

His dad's fist closed tighter around his fancy ink pen. "You're seriously going to ask me that after all that you've cost me?" His tone held more disbelief than disgust.

Mitchell's anger bubbled closer to the surface, but he beat it back. "The whole situation is wrong. I just know it, and I'm better trained than anyone else in this town."

"Stay out of it and let me handle things." His dad went back to his paperwork. "You can see yourself out."

Mitchell strolled to the door and stopped with a hand on the doorframe. "I'm going to watch out for her, Dad."

His dad's scribbling stopped, and he slowly raised his gaze to meet Mitchell's. For a moment the hardness in his father's eyes softened. And Mitchell caught a glimpse of the youthful dad he remembered from before their personalities started to clash and their relationship turned into a complete clusterfuck. Maybe because his father had the same ingrained protective instinct as Mitchell, which was both his biggest gift and his biggest weakness.

"She deserves that much," Mitchell said. "She shouldn't be alone in the first place."

And just like that, his dad's stone-cold stare was back. "No, she shouldn't. Are you so hell-bent on hovering over your brother's wife out of loyalty to Cameron or for some other reason? I saw the way you looked at her. Don't you feel the least bit guilty?"

Mitchell should feel guilty. Lorenda had stirred something deep inside that had been locked away so long he couldn't even label which emotion it was.

But, no, he didn't feel guilty. Cameron was the one who should've felt guilty for tossing away the best thing that had ever happened to him. There wasn't a shred of doubt in Mitchell's mind that being here for Lorenda now was right. Leaving before the mugging mystery was solved would eat him up with guilt.

"I'm going over to the house to visit Mom. Just thought you should know so you can avoid me." He glanced up at the flag. A flag both he and Cameron had proudly served with their whole hearts. "And Lorenda's last name might be Lawson, but she's not Cameron's wife anymore, Dad. It's time you accept that."

His father's lips thinned, the tension lines around his mouth deepening.

Mitchell walked past Maureen with a tip of his head and a "thank you, ma'am." He left before his smart mouth got away from him and sent his dad to an early grave. Or at the very least to the hospital with chest pains. For his mother's sake, Mitchell didn't want to shatter his father's illusion of Cameron. But that illusion had somehow morphed into a delusion over time.

An evening glow lit the sky, and Main Street was quiet. He reached his brother's old truck with long strides and climbed in. Mitchell had accepted that Lorenda wasn't taken anymore the moment she'd fainted in his arms. Couldn't help it, because nothing had ever felt better than when he was holding her.

What he hadn't accepted yet was how perfect the feeling had been. And how much he wanted to have her in his arms all over again. Only conscious. And naked. And all his.