The Horseman's Son by Delores Fossen Page B

fourth. She only hoped she wasn’t inviting even more danger for all of them by becoming Mrs. Dylan Greer.

    D YLAN TOOK OUT his gun from the desk drawer and slipped it in the leather shoulder holster hidden beneath his suit coat. He doubted many men carried a gun on their wedding day, but this wasn’t any normal wedding day.
    There was a killer on the loose.
    And a cold-case killer who might try to make a return visit.
    This obviously wouldn’t be a dream-come-true wedding. But he had to stay focused on Adam. The wedding would help him keep custody.
    He hoped.
    There was a tap at the door, and Dylan figured that the justice of peace had arrived. So, it was time. Which was good because his doubts were growing by leaps and bounds. It was best to get this over before he did something stupid such as change his mind.
    “Come in,” he offered.
    The door opened, and Millie stepped inside. “I want to talk to you.”
    Oh, man. He didn’t like the sound of that, and he didn’t have to guess what she wanted to discuss. “Is the J.P. here yet?” Because if so, their conversation would have to wait.
    “No. He’s just called. He’s running a little late.” Millie shut the door behind her and leaned against it as if blocking his path. “Dylan, are you sure about going through with this wedding?”
    He buttoned his jacket so no one would be able to see his gun. “I want to keep custody of Adam.”
    “There has to be another way.”
    Since her comment had a hint of desperation to it, Dylan couldn’t help but think back to the conversation he’d had with Collena that morning. Was Millie obsessed with him in some way? He’d known Millie all her life, since they were practically the same age. He was thirty-two—Millie, thirty-one. They’d been raised together, more like brother and sister than the nanny’s daughter and the ranch owner’s son. He studied her eyes, her expression, even her body language, but the only thing he saw was an old friend concerned about his well-being.
    Of course, people wore masks.
    “You don’t know Collena,” Millie continued. “You could wait and see what Curtis Reese is going to do. Who knows, he might change his mind and withdraw his petition for custody.”
    “You know something I don’t?” Dylan asked.
    “No. But people do that. They change. They do what’s right. He might decide that Adam is better off with you.”
    “I’m not going to hold my breath waiting for that,” Dylan mumbled. He went to the closet and rifled through one of the dresser drawers until he found something he rarely wore—his cuff links. It took him a few moments to get them into place.
    When he turned around, Millie was right in front of him. Mere inches away.
    Staring at him.
    “Please,” she said, trying to blink back tears. She wasn’t successful. “Don’t do this.”
    Dylan got a really bad feeling about her reaction. He stepped out of the closet. “What’s this all about?”
    “I’m scared,” she whispered. Her bottom lip began to tremble. “What if this time the killer goes after you? What if it’s your car that catches on fire? What if you’re the next one who dies?”
    As chilling as that was, Dylan actually relaxed a bit at the realization that it could happen. Because he’d much rather a killer come after him than Collena or Adam. Besides, he welcomed such a confrontation. He’d wanted to confront this SOB for years.
    There was another knock at the door, followed by Hank’s somber voice. “The justice of the peace is here,” he announced. “Everybody’s gathering in the family room, just like you wanted.”
    That was Dylan’s cue to get moving. First though, he used his thumb to wipe the tears off Millie’s cheek. “Everything will be okay,” he promised.
    And he would do everything humanly possible to make sure he kept that promise.
    With Millie by his side, Dylan went into the corridor where Hank was waiting. Hank shot him a questioning glance, and even though the man