Wanted. Delores Fossen

him close to the vest. I’m sure Travis would like nothing more than the head CSI to clear him of any possible charges.”

      She swallowed hard. Lyla had thought it would help if she had a name to go with this mess, but from the sound of it, that wasn’t a name she wanted associated with her.

      “Travis is a killer?” she risked asking.

      “Oh, yeah. If he hasn’t killed already, it’s only because he hasn’t had to. He usually hires muscle like Nicky Garnett to kill for him.”

      It felt as if a chunk of ice had settled in her stomach, and Lyla pressed her fingertips to her mouth to try to steady the trembling. “How do we get out of this?”

      “For starters, we lie. And not some little white lies, either. Big ones. We turn this con right on them and eliminate their reason for wanting you involved in any of this. That’ll keep you and the baby safe.”

      Maybe it was the dizziness, but Lyla wasn’t following him. “How do I do that?”

      Wyatt stooped down, going onto one knee so they were literally eye to eye. “You’ll marry me—today.”