“You can have my tent tonight,” Jeff said, his voice cutting through Willa’s torturous thoughts.

She looked up in astonishment. “No, I couldn’t do that.” She clamped down on her lip, regretting the words the instant they slipped out of her mouth. Of course she could! “Where would you sleep?” she asked softly, and berated herself for sounding like the cream puff Jeff believed her to be.

“Out here under the stars. I’ll keep watch for the predators.”

She glared at him, certain he was laughing at her. She could even see the laughter dancing in his eyes.

“Unless, of course, you’d rather keep watch,” he said. “I understand you’re pretty good with your feet.”

“No, that’s quite all right. You’ve seen one star, you’ve seen them all. But, thanks, I’ll take you up on the tent offer.”

“My pleasure.” He leaned close, his warm breath tickling her ear and sending shivers straight down her spine. “Maybe in the morning you’ll tell me exactly what you’re doing here, Blondie.”

CYNTHIA COOKE

Nine years ago, Cynthia Cooke lived a quiet, peaceful life, caring for her eighteen-month-old daughter, until she gave birth to boy/girl twins. Hip-deep in diapers and baby food, peacefulness gave way to chaos. She kept her sanity by reading romance novels and dreamed of someday writing one. She counts her blessings every day as she fulfills her dreams with the help of good friends, a supportive husband and three wild children who constantly keep her laughing and her world spinning. Luck and a Prayer is her debut novel.

Luck and a Prayer
Cynthia Cooke

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.

—Ecclesiastes 3:4

To my friends: Gail Ranstrom, Nina Bruhns, Michele Hauf and Pat White. You are the best!

Hugs to the ABC kids to being the great kids you are, and to my own hunky hero, Dale, for your unwavering support and encouragement throughout the years.

I love you all.

A special thanks to Kim Nadelson and Tracy Farrell for believing in Luck and a Prayer and making this author’s dreams come true.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Chapter One

Detective Willa Barrett stifled a groan as jolts of pain gnawed at her calves and moved up her spine. Grimacing, she shifted slightly, but stayed crouched behind the kitchen counter, not daring to move or make a sound.

Why Jack would bring someone in here at 9:00 a.m. was beyond her, especially after one of his late-night parties. Luckily, her brother Johnny had just left; otherwise, she’d have a hard time explaining why a “paying customer” was sleeping in the spare room.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Jack Paulson boomed from the other side of the counter. “One of our best. You’ll be rooming with Blondie,” he told the woman. “She’ll take good care of you. Teach you everything you need to know.”

No doubt. Willa barely resisted snorting aloud. A roommate would make her farce of “working” all that more difficult. Now she’d actually have to take the other undercover cops into her room with her. A thought she didn’t relish, since there wasn’t one of them she could tolerate. Straining her ears, she tried to determine exactly where Jack and the woman were positioned.

She gnawed her bottom lip and rubbed her injured arm. She couldn’t afford to get caught spying on Jack again. The captain had ordered her to go home and take care of her arm, but had she? No. Instead she’d hurried back to the strip dressed in purple sequins and tassels, swinging her hips in her exaggerated “Blondie” mode. Left and right she’d swung, calling to motorists, winking, hawking her feminine wares, clattering down Sunset Boulevard in five-inch spiked heels.

The same heels that were torturing her calf muscles now as she adjusted her weight from one hip to the other in her cramped position behind the counter. She had one last shot to get the goods on Jack Paulson and she wasn’t about to lose it because the captain had gotten squeamish over a sprained arm and pulled her off the case. She couldn’t worry about that now; right now the only thing that mattered was nailing Jack Paulson.

Willa turned on the special Pen Cam Johnny had acquired and inched it onto the counter behind a pot of African violets. The amazing little thing looked just like a standard ink pen, but in actuality was a self-contained video and audio outfit. It must have cost Johnny a pretty penny, but he was as anxious to put Mr. Slimebag Paulson behind bars as she was. They both had good reason.

Adjusting the Pen Cam’s position, she hunkered back down. Perhaps now she should make her way back to the bedroom where she’d have less of a chance of getting caught.

“You sure are a pretty thing. Wear your hair loose for me. That’s it, falling over your shoulders.” Jack’s raspy voice, low and seductive, filled the room. “What do you think of our new girl, Carlos?”

“She’s a beauty, boss. She’ll class up the place all right.”

Silently, Willa shoved her back into the cabinets. Carlos sounded close. Too close. Jack was known far and wide for being cruel to his girls, but it wasn’t Jack who did the most damage. It was Carlos. Jack just liked to watch.

“Here, you’ll have your own place, your own money, you’ll make your own rules,” Jack continued his pitch to seduce his hapless victim into the “good” life. “I won’t be here to check what time you come in or to tell you who you can see. If you want that kind of treatment, stay home with Daddy.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, sir.” The woman’s voice, soft and low, trembled as she spoke. “I won’t give you any trouble.”

Willa inched her way along the kitchen counter toward her room, once again trying to get a handle on Jack’s position. She’d feel better if she could make it out of the kitchen. That way she could come out of a door when he called her, instead of popping up from behind the counter like a peeping Willa-in-the-box.

“All I want from you in return is sixty percent, Tracey. That will cover your expenses. This is a nice place—it ain’t cheap. Is it, Carlos?”

“No, sir. Not cheap at all,” Carlos’s voice thundered, resonating right down Willa’s spine.

The creep was directly above her. With knees burning and calves screaming, Willa quickly scampered along the counter to the other side of the kitchen. She wouldn’t make it back to her room now. From Carlos’s position, he’d be able to see her. She’d have to stay and hope Jack didn’t call for her.

“I know you’re not experienced with this kind of life, so I’ll do you a favor. I’ll give you a few days to get used to the place. I’ll send you to a few parties; let you meet the rest of the girls. See, old Jack isn’t such a bad guy,” he said heartily. His chuckle turned Willa’s stomach. “You’ll love it here. All my girls love working for Jack Paulson. Don’t they, Carlos?”

“Yes, sir. They sure do.”

“You see, Tracey, my job is to make sure we both earn a lot of money while having a great time doing it. Life’s too short not to have fun, don’t you agree?” He paused. “But most of all, I enjoy taking care of you girls. Nothing bad ever happens to one of Jack’s girls. That’s a God-given promise.”

Willa rolled her eyes at the manure spewing from his lips, and wondered how Jack defined the word bad. No one with a brain could be buying this garbage. She peeked around the corner and almost choked. The girl sitting across from him couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen. Good Lord! Where had he found a baby like her? This was sinking to an all-time low, even for Jack.

The girl’s eyes widened as they met Willa’s. Biting back a groan, Willa swung back behind the counter.

“Here’s five hundred to get you started,” Jack stated. “Go buy yourself some new clothes and a few knickknacks for your room, something to make this place feel like home. It’s all yours now.”

“Yes, sir,” the girl said. “Thank you.”

“You’ll pay me back by being a good girl and working hard. Jack’s girls know how to get ahead. Blondie will show you the ropes. Where is she anyway, Carlos? She should be here to meet the newest member of our team.” The dinette chair scraped across the wooden floor. “Hey, Blondie,” Jack yelled.

Willa bit her lip, and wished she could sink into the floor.

“Um, sir?” the girl spoke up, nabbing Jack’s attention. “Will I—that is, will I ever be able to visit my friends?”

The girl’s lilting voice broke Willa’s heart. Don’t worry, sweetie, she thought. I’ll get you out of this. Just as soon as I get myself out from behind this counter.

“You’re a runaway, Tracey. I’m giving you a place to live, a new identity, a way to support yourself, and start-up money. Now why would you want to blow all that by contacting your friends or family? You’re going to make a whole bunch of new friends right here. We’re your family now.” The front door opened. “Come on, doll,” Jack said. “Let me show you around.”

Willa fell back against the cupboards and stretched out her aching legs as she heard the door click shut. She’d done it! She’d gotten the whole conversation on videotape. This time, nothing could stop Jack Paulson from paying for a very long time.

“I thought you learned your lesson the last time I caught you spying on the boss.” Carlos’s raw hate-filled voice slithered around her.

Willa cringed. She stood, rocking unsteadily in her five-inch heels and faced him eye to eye, ignoring the glacial chill quivering down to her toes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Carlos.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders, his bony fingers biting into her flesh. “You were eavesdropping on the boss.”

His breath, smelling of coffee and cigarettes, nearly gagged her. “I wasn’t, Carlos. Really. I was just waiting for Jack to leave so we could be alone. That’s all.” She lifted a painted nail to his chin and flicked the stubble he thought made him look sexy instead of just slimy.

He loosened his grasp, then pushed her against the counter. “I knew you liked me,” he rasped.

“Of course I do, sugar,” she lied with a honey-thickened tongue. “If you give me a little time, I’ll prove it to you.”

“I’ve got time.”

The way he looked at her sent a fresh round of shudders coursing down her back. He turned toward her room. Not able to wait another second, she snatched up the pen. He turned back, staring at the Pen Cam in her hand, suspicion crossing his face.

“Did you really think I’d fall for that act?”

Fear hammered in her chest, but she was careful to make sure it didn’t show on her face. “Which act is that, sugar?”

With two easy strides, he was on her and reaching for the pen. She pulled away, palming it behind her back. With spring-loaded speed, he grabbed her arm and jerked the Pen Cam from her grasp. “What’s this?”

She didn’t answer, just held her breath and prayed the man was as dumb as he looked. He started to unscrew the pen’s barrel.

“Don’t—” she said softly.

“Don’t what?” He dropped the Pen Cam to the floor and raised a steel-toed boot.

The closest she’d ever come to nailing Jack Paulson was recorded on that pen and she wasn’t about to let some moronic flunkie pulverize it. She swung back, brought up one leg and—“Whaaa chai!”—kicked with all her might. Five inches of pointy heel dug deep into soft flesh.

Grunting, he doubled over. She reached down, grabbed the pen, then clattered as fast as she could out the door and down the hall toward the stairs. She had to get the pen to the captain. It was the only way to stop Jack, to save that young girl and to save herself another night of knowing that animal was still out there spreading his poison and infecting everything he touched.

He’s finally going to pay, Daddy. Just like I promised.

She ran toward the staircase at the end of the hall, pushing herself harder, faster. One spiked heel caught an uneven board. She slipped, twisting her ankle as she fought for balance. Through the fog of pain, she kept moving. It wasn’t bad enough to stop her. For that, she’d have to be dead.

“I’m going to kill you, woman!”

If only she had time to lose the stilettos. They’d make a mighty fine weapon in her hand, but on her feet they were downright deadly. A door two apartments down opened. If she could reach it and lock herself in, she might have enough time to call for backup.

Betty Jones, one of Jack’s oldest pros, stepped into the hall. “Hey, Blondie! What’s up?”

Without a word, Willa raced past her, slammed shut her door and threw the bolt. She dashed for the phone and dialed 911.

“Blondie, open up!” Betty yelled, her feeble fists hitting the door.

“Nine-one-one emergency,” the voice on the line answered.

“I need help….”

With one earth-shattering kick, the door flew open, slamming against the wall, shredding the plaster. She had to find a weapon! Dropping the phone, Willa slipped around the counter into the kitchen and yanked open the drawer she kept her knives in back in her apartment. She stared blankly at potholders and dish-towels. “Blast!”

“Give it up, Blondie. You’re mine now.” With slow deliberate steps, Carlos walked into the kitchen, cornering her against the sink. “Take a walk, Betty,” he called without checking to see if she listened. He knew she would obey, and so did Willa. His gaze locked on hers. The expression on his face was downright animalistic.

All her years of training on the force scattered right out of her mind. This man was pure demented evil. He wrapped his hands around her waist, picked her up and threw her across the kitchen counter. She landed on the floor, the impact jolting every bone in her body. Within seconds, he was on her.

She groped blindly around her and with splayed fingertips, felt the telephone she’d dropped to the floor. With white-knuckle ferocity, she grasped the phone and swung it against his head. He clutched his temple and fell to the side. It was the second she needed. She was up and running again. Her only hope for safety was to reach the boulevard cluttered with people, traffic and cops.

“Run, little girl! Faster or you’ll never escape me!” His bellow echoed down the hall as he sprinted after her. She didn’t look back. Didn’t have to. His labored breath bounced off the walls in the narrow stairwell, his heavy boots clobbered the stairs behind her, all signs that he was closing in fast.

The door to the street loomed ahead of her. Sunshine filtered through dirty glass—her light at the end of a dark tunnel. Ten feet. Seven.

If she could just make it out that door…

She felt his hand brush her shoulder and wrap itself in her hair. Her bleached-blond wig shifted, but held, the pins digging mercilessly into her scalp.

Five feet. Three.

His growl, bubbling like toxic laughter in his throat was close, too close. Panic swallowed her. She hit the door with all her strength, swinging it open. Sunshine burned her eyes. She’d made it! Her heart soared. Carlos’s hand closed on her shoulder, pulling her off balance.

She tripped, falling, reeling into the white-hot sun, into safety. Strong arms roughly caught her before she hit the pavement. She looked up at her savior and stared into the reptilian eyes of Jack Paulson.

Jeff MacPhearson’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel of the church van as he turned right onto Sunset Boulevard. The knot sitting in the bottom of his stomach grew as he took in the familiar sights of the street. Six blocks down, hang a right, then a left, and he’d be back at the old parish—his first parish, the parish of his greatest accomplishments and his biggest failure.

He pushed down the anger burgeoning within him. Tracey wasn’t Dawn. This situation was completely different. He would find Tracey and bring her back home. He would not lose another child to these wicked streets, and yet, here he was, back in the place he’d fought so hard to get out of. Back on the dirty streets he’d struggled night after night to push from his mind by moving to a cleaner parish, a safer city. Back on Sunset Boulevard staring his personal demon in the face.

The swish of long brown hair caught his eye. He hit the brakes, ignoring the horn blaring behind him and stared at a familiar-looking brunette in a ridiculously tight miniskirt. She turned at the commotion and gave him a beckoning smile. He blew out a sigh of relief. She wasn’t Tracey, though she wasn’t much older than Tracey and he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her, for all the girls that ended up on the strip.

He drove another block, then two, scanning the sidewalks on either side, searching every face, every lithe form for the missing thirteen-year-old. “Please, Lord, please help me find her,” he prayed, and then he spotted her, standing at the mouth of an alley, talking to a man who looked slimier than a used-car salesman at a clearance sale. Jeff did a double take. Jack Paulson! The old goat wrapped a meaty arm around her slim waist and led her toward the entrance of a two-story apartment building. Jeff stiffened his grip on the wheel, gathering the strength to stop himself from steering the van toward them and running the cretin down. The man deserved that and so much more.

“Keep your filthy hands off her,” he hollered at the windshield, while desperately searching for a parking place. Careful not to lose sight of her, he pulled into a parking lot a quarter-mile down the street, jumped out of the van and ran toward them.

He could see the man’s hand cupping Tracey’s little elbow, could see his white teeth gleaming as he smiled down at her. Jeff pushed harder, fighting back the urge to call her name, to stop her from entering that building.

He couldn’t imagine what had happened to make her choose the ungodly boulevard over her family home, but whatever it had been he could fix it. And whatever it was, he’d make it right this time. He had to, or what was the point? God hadn’t chosen him to work with kids just to play volleyball. He was here to make a difference, to reach these kids, to show them the way to God’s love and a healthy life.

One more block to go.

The building’s door swung open and a platinum blonde in form-fitting purple spandex flew out the door and fell directly into the man with Tracey. Tracey jumped back.

“Blondie!” Jack yelled as the woman slipped through his grasp and headed toward Jeff. Jack followed, leaving Tracey alone and giving Jeff the chance he’d been praying for. He lifted a hand and waved. Tracey’s eyes widened as she saw him, her gaze locking on his. Come on, Tracey. Let me help you, he pleaded silently.

Something slammed into him, knocking him flat to the ground. The concrete packed a wallop to the back of his head. Bright stars of pain danced before his eyes and he couldn’t find his breath.

The stars receded yet still he couldn’t see. Something dry and sticky filled his mouth; something soft and curvy filled his hand. He jerked his hand off the silky spandex and spat out a mouthful of fake hair. “Get off me, please,” he groaned and at the same moment inhaled the sweet scent of vanilla and cream. He was breathing again and the woman smelled wonderful, not exactly what he’d expect from someone with her questionable taste in clothing.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, and quickly righted her skewed wig. Curly wisps of red hair hung down from her temples mixing with the acrylic platinum waves. As she shifted, he felt a tug in his back pocket before her hipbone ground into his stomach. He groaned again.

“Thank the Lord above,” he muttered, as she finally rose off him.

“Come on, Blondie,” a deep voice said. “We have some business upstairs.”

Jack yanked her to his side. “Sorry, Jack,” she said with a saucy smile. “But I can’t. I’ve already got an appointment and it ain’t with you.”

“It is now.” He pulled her arm up behind her back. She winced and leaned forward, but didn’t make a sound.

“Hey,” Jeff protested, and started to rise, then fell back, shaking the momentary dizziness from his head.

“Jeff, are you all right?” Tracey kneeled next to him, her big, brown still-innocent eyes full of concern.

“You know this guy, Tracey?” Jack asked.

She turned to him, biting her lower lip. “Um, yes, sir. He’s the pastor at my church.”

Brushing off the pain, Jeff rose to his feet and dropped a protective hand on Tracey’s shoulder.

“Church, heh?” Jack chuckled, though his eyes gleamed with menace as they took in Jeff’s gesture.

She nodded. “Uh-huh, in Pasadena.”

“You’re a little out of your neighborhood, aren’t you, Padre?”

“Just here to pick up my girl,” Jeff said, and turned away from him and made strong eye contact with Tracey. She had a hard time holding his gaze, but his didn’t waver. “We’re going backpacking, remember? Everyone is waiting for you.”

“You wouldn’t believe what I caught Blondie doin’ this time, boss.” Another man, huge and brooding, grabbed the woman’s arm.

“Take her upstairs and see that she doesn’t get away,” Jack growled.

The woman’s green eyes met Jeff’s, surprising him with their fiery determination. This was a woman who could take care of herself. And yet… “Do you need help, miss? I’d be happy to give you a lift anywhere you want to go. Anywhere,” he emphasized.

The brute holding her burst out laughing.

“She can’t make it and neither can Tracey.” Jack took a step toward them, his face set in stone. Jeff gave Tracey’s shoulder a protective squeeze. “I believe that decision is up to the ladies.”

“Not anymore. I’m taking care of Tracey now and I can do it a whole lot better than the rest of you hypocrites.”

Fury swelled in Jeff’s chest. This animal preyed on lost women and children and he wouldn’t get his filthy paws on one of his kids. He’d die first. He took Tracey’s small shoulders in his hands and faced her, blocking Jack from her view. “Give me a chance, Tracey. Please. I’ll make everything all right at home. I promise.” His gut wrenched as fear and confusion flashed though her eyes. Please, God, let me have the chance to make it right this time. Don’t let me lose another child.

“Come on, Jack. Let the kid go,” the woman interrupted. “I thought you said we’ve got business.”

Jack sneered at her. “Like you’re worth it, Blondie.”

With lightning speed, she pivoted and brought up her knee—hard. The brute holding her doubled over, releasing his grasp. She jerked free, spun one hundred and eighty degrees, and kicked Jack’s granite face in rapid succession. Jeff almost cheered aloud.

Tracey groaned.

Blondie turned and to his astonishment gave them both a shove. “Run!” she urged.

Jeff didn’t waste a second. He grabbed Tracey by the hand and hauled her down the street toward the van. Within minutes they were locked inside and he was pulling onto the boulevard. He expected the woman in spandex would have disappeared, but there she was holding her own with Jack’s man. One lithe leg kicked high, knocking the brute in the chin.

“She’s amazing,” he said, awestruck.

“Unbelievable,” Tracey murmured. Jeff turned to his passenger tucked safe and secure in her seat belt and said a quick prayer of thanks, though he knew his job had only just begun. A squad car screeched to a stop in front of the apartment building as Jeff pulled past them. He glanced at his watch and then at Tracey. “If we hurry, we can still make it to our campsite by nightfall. Are you game?”

She looked at him, then quickly averted her gaze. He heard a soft “Sure,” and, for now, that was enough.

“Good, now call your mother. Tell her you’re sorry for worrying her half to death, then let me talk to her.”

Reluctantly, she took the phone. When she handed it back to him, he asked Mrs. Wilcox if he could still take Tracey camping with the others. “I think it will be good for her,” he added.

Luckily, she agreed.

At least for a few more days she’d be safe, and he’d have time to talk to her without distractions and reminders of what had happened here today. Perhaps then he’d find out what had gone wrong at home and he’d have his chance to put her back on the right path.

Willa scowled as the van with Morning Star Church printed across its door drove away. She succumbed to the officers on patrol as they read her her rights, then let them cuff her and throw her into the back of the squad car. Another car appeared to take Jack Paulson and Carlos downtown.

“Thanks, guys,” she muttered as they pulled into traffic. She stretched her aching shoulders and tried to ignore the pinch of the cuffs on her wrists. “You could have been a little gentler, though.”

“Hey, we wouldn’t want to blow your cover, Blondie,” Rick snickered behind the wheel. “The way you were moving them heels—whooeee, speed lightning.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to face you in a dark alley,” his partner, Cliff added.

“Honey, if you don’t loosen these cuffs, you’re not gonna want to face me anywhere.”

“Whoa, retract those claws.” Rick laughed. “Believe me, those cuffs are the least of your problems.”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Captain’s waiting for you at headquarters and he’s not too hunky dory. Says he wants you in his office looking very contrite within twenty minutes and if I were you, I’d lose the wig.”

Willa cringed. She’d directly disobeyed an order from her captain. She’d be facing desk duty for sure now. “Hey, guys. Do me a favor and say I split. You can drop me on the corner.”

They both burst out laughing. She knew what they thought of her. Obsessed and cracked up were just a few of the terms she’d heard whispered around the department. It didn’t matter. She’d show them.

Jack Paulson should have been put behind bars a long time ago for killing her father. He hadn’t been. Now it was up to her to see that he was. And, this time, she finally had the evidence to put him away. Unfortunately, it was tucked in the back pocket of that cute pastor’s jeans. She took a deep breath. As soon as she got it back, she’d have Jack right where she wanted him.

But first she had to deal with Ben. And Captain Ben Armstrong was not pleasant to be around when he’d been crossed.

Chapter Two

At her locker, Willa quickly changed out of her hooker outfit, dragged on a pair of jeans and a LAPD T-shirt, wiped her face clean with one of those instant makeup removers, and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. She jogged on canvas shoes that didn’t make a sound to the captain’s office and silently slipped into a chair across from his desk.

He lowered a handful of reports and glowered at her. “Well?”

“It’s Saturday, Captain. Technically, I’m off duty.”

“Then technically, I can have you locked up for assault and disturbing the peace.”

“Yeah, I suppose you could.”

“Yeah.” The word hung suspended between them.

“But you won’t.” She cocked him an elfish grin.

His expression hardened. “I pulled you from the Paulson case. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you to go home and rest that arm. In no uncertain terms, I warned you to stop your renegade antics.”

“Yes, sir, you did.”

Captain Ben Armstrong leaned forward in his chair and scrutinized her. It was a hard look, and one she still hadn’t grown accustomed to no matter how many times he’d directed it her way. She shifted and bit her lower lip, swallowing the defensiveness rising in her chest.

His tone softened. “I want to help you, Willa. Really I do. I know what getting this guy means to you, and I think you know what it would mean to me, but your obsession is impacting my department.”

A spring tightened in Willa’s back. “Obsession?”

“Do you deny it? How many times have you gone back to that apartment alone without even bothering to check in? And word on the street has it your brother’s been there, too.”

“Johnny has as much right to Paulson’s throat as I do.” Even though he’d been older than her twelve years at the time of their father’s death, Johnny took it even harder than she did. No matter what Ben said, no matter how close he’d been to her family over the years, he would never understand what it had been like for them to suddenly lose the strongest force in their lives.

She had to give Ben credit for trying, but a surrogate dad could never replace what they’d lost. Her dad had been everything to them, the one who was home most days when they got home from school, the one who helped them with their homework, bandaged their bruises and dried their tears. How she longed to have him sit across the table from her and smile as she relayed the events of her day. Even just one more time.

“The bottom line, Captain, is that I’m doing what I have to do to get the job done.”

He took a deep breath. “There are a lot of ways to get the job done, you’ve chosen the one you’ve decided works best for you.”

“Your point?”

“You need to start doing what’s best for the department. If you want to continue working here.”

Willa’s eyes narrowed.

“There isn’t an officer in this precinct that will work with you,” he continued, treading deeper into uncharted waters. “They don’t trust you will be there for them when the chips are down.”

Like you were for my dad? Her teeth wrestled a grasp on her tongue to keep the long-unsaid words from escaping.

“You refuse to play by the rules or follow directions. We are a team here and you need to be a part of it. Out of loyalty and an obligation to your dad’s memory, I’ve given you more warnings than you’ve deserved, but now you’ve left me no choice. I’m pulling you off the street.”

“You’re what?” Incredulity rose in her voice. “I’m the best cop you’ve got.”

“You’re a loose cannon, and one of these days you’re going to get someone besides yourself hurt.”

Willa’s self-control skittered out the door. “You can’t take me off the street. I’ve got it this time. I’ve got evidence that Jack is serving up young girls—babies—as the main course at his twisted dinner parties. He’s moved onto prepubescent girls. I can’t let him do it. This has gone way beyond what he’s done to my family.”

“What kind of evidence?” he said, portraying no outward reaction to what she’d just told him. Surely, he couldn’t be that cold, that jaded.

“A videotape. I got it on one of those cameras that look like a pen.”

“One of Johnny’s gadgets, I presume. Hand it over, then go see Donna about a desk duty schedule,” he dismissed her, burying his nose back into his paperwork.

“I can’t.”

Exasperated, he looked up and let out a deep sigh.

“I don’t have it.”

“You’ve just rambled on about evidence you don’t have? Why are you wasting my time, Willa?”

“I had it. And I’ll have it back in an hour, tops!”

“Where is it?”

“I ditched it in a minister’s back pocket.”

“You what!”

“I had to get rid of it. Carlos knew something was up with the pen and I couldn’t take the chance of losing it.”

“So, you put a civilian in jeopardy? And a minister at that! You never should have gone back into that apartment without backup. This just proves my point, Willa.”

“No, it doesn’t. It proves that I’m the one with the guts to roll around in the manure and not let the stink do me in. I’m the one who got the goods on Jack and you’ll have the evidence as soon as I get it back from the Morning Star Church in Pasadena.”

Without a word the captain picked up the phone. “Send whoever is closest over to the Morning Star Church in Pasadena. I need one of those camera pens picked up from a minister. No, no name, but he was on the strip this morning. Can’t be more than one up there. I want a call as soon as we have it.”

“Then we bring Jack down,” she said triumphantly.

“So what?” he answered, his tired eyes void of emotion. “There are a hundred more Jack Paulsons ready to take his place.”

“And I’ll get them, too. But first, this slimeball is going to pay for killing my dad.”

The captain scrubbed his face with his hands. “I want you to see Louis.”

“I’m not seeing a shrink.”

“I told your mother fifteen years ago you needed counseling. Margo and I have lost countless night’s sleep worrying about you and the decisions you’ve made. We’ve done everything we could think of to help you, especially after your mother died, too. We even abided by your wishes when you refused counseling. But by God, I’m going to make sure you get it now.”

A deep well of long-lived frustration bubbled inside her. “I told you then and I’m telling you now, I don’t need to see a shrink.”

“You need to get over your father’s death or you’ll never be the cop you want to be. You’ll never be the person you can be. When was the last time you had a personal commitment to anybody or anything other than Jack Paulson?”

“Leave my personal life out of it.”

“That should be easy since you don’t have one.”

Cold fury froze Willa’s heart. “I’m the cop I want to be, now.”

“You’ll never be a good one, Willa.”

“I am good.”

He slammed both fists on his desk. “No! You’re not. As of right now, you’re a desk jockey. And if you ever want to get away from the phones, you’ll see Louis, and you’ll continue to see him until he gives you a clean bill of health.”

“I won’t!” Willa jumped to her feet. The aluminum chair crashed to the floor behind her.

Ben scowled. “You will, or you’re out of here.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Watch me.”

Willa bit back some choice words as the phone rang. Stunned, she stared at it, trying to catch her breath and calm her temper as she righted the overturned chair.

His lips tightened into a straight line as he banged the receiver into its cradle. “Your so-called evidence has headed for the hills.”

“What?”

“Your minister took a bunch of kids backpacking through Sequoia.”

Willa collapsed back into the chair. “Sequoia? As in National Forest?”

“Yep, and seeing how you’re the only one who knows what the poor man looks like, you’re going to be the one to find him. I think a day or two in the wilderness will be good for you.”

“Wilderness?” Willa ignored the dread settling in the pit of her stomach. “You mean out there in the woods where the bears live?” She’d rather take on the animals stalking the strip.

“If you’d prefer, you can spend the rest of the weekend hitting the phones. Take your pick.”

“Fine, fine. I’m off. Gone. I’ll enjoy myself, I’m sure. Fresh air and all that.”

He looked at his watch. “I’ll expect you back Monday night with evidence that better knock my socks off.”

“Yep, sure thing.”

He handed her a slip of paper. “Here’s the name of the youth director that has the trails and campsites where you’ll find the pastor. I suggest you get a hotel in the area and try to catch them in the morning. You’ll never make it to the campsite before nightfall.”

“No problem. And Captain, after you see that poor little girl on the tape, you’ll be glad I stopped him.” Silently she added, Then you’ll rethink this whole desk-jockey shrink thing. I know you will.

By midafternoon, Willa was navigating the winding mountain road as if she’d been doing it all her life, not at all put off by the narrowing turns or the tall poles with painted red tops lining the sides of the road. Snow poles, the man at the service station had said. She shuddered. The very idea of being stuck in this place with that much snow on the ground made her turn down the air conditioner. She’d only seen snow once as a child, before her dad had died, when life had still been full of promise and happy days.

She glanced over at the new backpack sitting in the passenger seat. The man at Oshman’s had given her everything she’d need and more, even a new pair of hiking boots. She was all set, though she wasn’t sure why she’d bothered. They couldn’t have had that much of a head start on her. How far could one guy and six kids get? She’d have them tracked down within an hour, she reasoned.

A half hour later, she pulled into the campground parking lot and parked next to the church van. “Gotcha,” she said, smiling, then swung the pack onto her back and stretched her shoulder blades, at once thankful for the intense workout sessions she’d recently added to her routine. “This thing’s heavy,” she grumbled aloud, suddenly sure that salesman had sold her a lot more junk than she actually needed.

She stopped at the bottom of the hill and read the trail markers. There were several, offering paths for beginners to the more stringent superadvanced levels. She took out the sheet of paper the youth director of the church had given her with the proper trails marked.

Obviously, this pastor was no stranger to the woods. He started with an easy trail, then moved on to different ones, each rising in intensity as they moved deeper into the backcountry. Oh well, she was in shape. She didn’t spend three hours a week on the treadmill for nothing.

Two hours later, Willa’s thigh muscles burned with a fire she’d never before felt as she plodded up the hill, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to push enough air into her painfully constricted lungs. She stopped on a rock, took a swig off the water bottle from her pack and examined her notes one more time. There was no way she could be lost. They must have gotten a bigger head start than she thought.

She stood, groaned, pulled back her aching shoulders, then set out again. How could Ben say those things to her? She had a life. How many times had she sat at his dinner table and told him and Margo about the things she was doing? She shopped, she read, she jogged. She loved her fitness classes. She’d met a few people at the gym and had even dated a Neanderthal or two. “I’m just a very focused person,” she muttered. “Very focused on Jack.”

She swatted another bee out of her face. Lord, she hated the woods—the dirt, the incessant noise, the swishing of the trees and bushes. And to think people actually did this for fun. What she wouldn’t give for the corner booth in Starbucks and a large iced tea with a lemon slice floating on the top.

She dragged a hand across her damp forehead. Where could they be? How many miles had she walked? By the aching soreness in her tootsies, she guessed at least a hundred. She groaned as she crested the top of yet another hill. She couldn’t take any more. Not one more step. Slipping out of her pack, she stumbled into a lush, green meadow, fell flat on her back in the thick grass, and stared up at the blindingly blue sky.

Her throbbing muscles and bones settled into the soft earth. Oh, this feels good. When at last her breathing slowed and her body stopped creaking, she sat up and yanked off her brand-new, not-so-spiffy boots. Broken skin stuck to cotton as she pulled her sock mercilessly away from her foot. Her feet, red and swollen, were needled with broken blisters.

“Oh, no,” she moaned, and wished she’d stuck with her tennies. She took another swig of water, then glanced at her watch. She’d been tromping around for two and a half hours and she still hadn’t seen hide nor hair of one youth minister and six kids. She feared she might be on the wrong trail after all, or even the wrong mountain.

Then she heard something.

Her heart stilled. It’s nothing, she told herself. I’m hearing things. She sat up straighter and looked through the tall grass, trying to determine what the rustling sound could be. About ten feet away the green blades parted, billowing slightly, then falling down in quick succession toward her.

Willa screamed. She jumped up, then back, tripped over a discarded boot, and fell right back on her derriere.

The thing in the grass was still coming at her, faster and faster. Crab crawling, she scurried backward away from the slithering reptile, screaming again, demanding that it get away from her and breathing so hard she feared her lungs might explode.

Behind her, the bushes shook with the ferocity of a 7.0 quake. Good Lord, she’d roused a bear! Terror leaped into her arrhythmic heart and stopped it cold.

“What? What is it?” A masculine voice demanded. Not a huge furry brown thing after all, but a man—a fine-looking pastor whose sultry-smooth voice jump-started her heart and pushed the air back into her lungs. At least until it whooshed out again in appreciation of those wonderfully broad shoulders.

“A s-s-s—” She couldn’t say the word. Hyperventilating, she frantically searched the grass for the slithering monster.

“A snake?”

“Yes, uh-huh.” She nodded, vigorously.

“Okay.” He searched the grass. “It’s gone. You scared it away. You’ll be fine,” he said casually, too casually considering she almost lost her life. He gestured toward the area of flattened grass and her discarded socks and boots. “You really shouldn’t lie down in the middle of a grassy field.”

She guessed not.

He stared down at her bare feet. “Those look pretty nasty. Can you walk?”

“Of course I can walk. I can go anywhere as long as I get out of here.”

He laughed; the deep warm sound resonated in his wide chest. She liked it. It sounded real, genuine and totally foreign to her. Sunshine glinted off sun-streaked hair and a sparkle twinkled in his eyes. Eyes as brilliant as that blindingly blue sky above her. She didn’t think it right that anyone should have eyes that color, or that it’d look so good on a mere mortal. And why on earth did she have goose bumps on her arms?

“All right, then. We’re camped not far from here. If you want, you can rest there and fix up your feet.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that. You don’t know how much. For a minute, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see a living, breathing, life-saving human being ever again.” Let alone one nature-loving heart-stopping youth minister.

His grin tilted.

She zipped her lips, then smiled back, wide and foolish. She couldn’t help it. His crooked little grin was infectious and she couldn’t believe he’d found her.

His gaze slowly perused her face. “I know this sounds crazy way up here, but have we met? I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something familiar about you.”

“Nope. Can’t say that we have,” she lied, suppressing a guilty twinge. They hadn’t, she told herself, at least not technically. She’d decided on the trek up there that the best course of action would be to go incognito, grab the pen and get out. If that poor girl was on the brink of falling into a life on the streets, the last thing she needed was for all her peers to discover what she’d already done—or had been about to do, she amended, hoping for the best. Who knew what the girl had told the preacher man. No need to make things more difficult for her than they already were.

“Welcome to our little corner of paradise.” He easily swung her pack onto his back, for which she was more grateful than she cared to admit, and led her out of the field. She picked up her boots and followed as quickly as she could, but found herself wincing each time she took a step. How would she ever get back down off this mountain? She played with the idea of getting the captain to airlift her out, but he was still mad at her, and then she would have to admit she couldn’t handle a few hiking trails and a little wilderness.

Maybe she could get this handsome man to carry her down. She smiled at the thought while watching him walk ahead of her. She lost her smile as she hobbled into the circle of tents and saw the expectant faces of six kids.

“Everyone, I want you to meet a fellow packer.” The pastor turned to her. “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

She held out her hand. “Willa Barrett.”

“Miss Willa Barrett.”

Willa turned to the kids and plastered on a be-gentle-with-me-I’m-clueless-about-kids smile. They all greeted her warmly, all except the girl she’d taped selling her soul to Jack Paulson. Wariness narrowed the girl’s big, brown eyes. Surely she didn’t recognize her? If not yet, chances were good she would soon. Better to find the camera and get off this mountain as quickly as possible, before one youth minister and six scrub-faced innocents became entangled in the ugly side of life.

“Make yourself at home,” the pastor said, pointing to a chair.

A real canvas chair. Cleopatra’s throne wouldn’t have looked so good. After her tortuous hike up the mountain, their camp had the makings of a four-star resort. Seven small tents nestled in a cluster of pines surrounded a fire pit. The kids sat around it, resting on rocks and blankets.

“Wow, look at your feet.” A boy no more than thirteen stood before her staring down at her swollen toes.

She wiggled them. “Yeah, new boots,” she offered weakly, then collapsed into the chair.

“I have a first aid kit, if you’d like.” His cheeks turned a soft crimson as he pushed his glasses farther up on his nose.

She smiled at his awkwardness. “Yes, thank you. I’d like.”

“Good.” He turned and walked toward the green tent closest to them and started digging through his pack.

“I’m Jeff MacPhearson,” her rescuer offered. “We’re all on an outing from the Morning Star Church. I’m the youth minister there.”

“It’s nice to meet you all. I’m certainly lucky you came along when you did.”

“Especially since it will be getting dark soon.”

Willa looked up at the sky; it didn’t look anywhere near dark to her.

“You can set up camp here with us, if you’d like.”

“Here?” Willa looked at the dirt-encrusted ground and the multitudes of little-legged things crawling all over it.

“You did bring a tent, didn’t you?” He glanced toward her overstuffed pack lying where he’d dropped it.

“No, I don’t think I did.” She tried to remember the list of items the clerk had stuffed into the pack. She didn’t remember a tent being among them. “I wasn’t planning on staying an hour let alone the night,” she explained, then shuddered. She’d have to sleep out here, at night, in the dark, with all those beady-eyed creatures watching from the trees and scurrying along the ground.

“Have you ever been backpacking before?” he asked. There it was—laughter in his voice. She swung her gaze from the dark depths of the trees and met the twinkle in his eyes head-on.

“Sure, lots of times,” she said, stiffening her back. There she was, lying again. And to a pastor no less. Although she had to admit he didn’t look like a pastor. At least not any pastor she’d ever conjured up. She took in his muscular legs, wide chest, and strong, tanned arms. Nope. More like a construction worker. She could easily picture him with a hammer in his hand. A very large hammer.

“Found it!” The rosy-cheeked boy held up the first-aid kit in triumph.

“Thanks, Charles,” Jeff said, and took the kit from him. Willa smiled as the boy shuffled his feet and spent an unusual amount of time studying the ground beneath them. She would never understand kids.

Bending before her, Jeff lifted her foot. She jumped at the unexpected contact, causing her chair to tilt. “Oh!” With her right hand, she braced herself, taking all her weight on her already sprained arm. Pain shot through her as her arm gave out.

“Whoa, there.” Jeff caught her just before she fell, his hands on either side of her grasping the arms of her chair. She couldn’t tell if it was from the shock, the pain or this incredibly handsome man’s close proximity, but what had happened to her breath?

“Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she muttered, unable to tear her gaze away from him. “It’s a sprain, is all.”

“I was only going to put antibiotic ointment on your blisters.”

“I’m sorry. You startled me. Your hands, they’re very…” Warmth moved up Willa’s chest and into her cheeks. She stifled an overwhelming urge to shuffle her feet and stare at the ground.

“Just how new are those boots?”

“Very,” she answered. She reached for the cream. “I think I’d better do my own feet.”

“Suit yourself.”

“Hmm.” She had the feeling she didn’t want to get that close, shouldn’t get that close to this man, but the image of him rubbing her feet left her breathless. A peculiar tingling on the back of her neck had her turning to find the rapt attention of six curious budding teens. “Oh, boy,” she moaned, then went back to work on her sore feet.

She had to get to the business at hand. Jeff was still wearing the jeans she’d slipped the camera in. The question was, had he found the pen and taken it out? And if he hadn’t, how in the world was she going to get close enough to get it back from him?

She should tell him who she was and demand the pen. That would be the smart thing to do, the right thing to do, the easiest thing to do. It was exactly what Captain Ben Armstrong would do, but not what she would do.

Everyone would find out about Tracey’s involvement with Jack Paulson soon enough. Bringing it all out into the open now would only fuel Jeff’s instincts to protect the girl, and his actions could possibly jeopardize the case. No, she’d find a way to get the pen, then get out.

Willa glanced at the slight brunette across the fire pit. Haunted was the word that came to mind. The poor thing looked haunted. If she only knew how lucky she was to be here tonight, among creatures and friends, and not with that monster, Jack.

Jeff dropped an armload of wood beside the fire pit and began to strategically pyramid the logs. He was quite handsome. Willa shook the thought right out of her head. He was a pastor who loved kids. Never had she run into anyone more out of her league than that. Even if his voice did shoot shivers down her spine, she couldn’t allow herself the luxury of fantasizing about that or about him right now.

Right now, she had to find a way to get into his pants.

Chapter Three

Beyond the fire’s flickering flames, Jeff watched curiously as Tracey stared at Willa. The girl’s jaw was hardened and a slight scowl creased her brow. Tracey was overcome with anger. A feeling he knew only too well and had spent most of his life wresting to control. He rose and turned to their unexpected guest. “Willa, would you mind keeping an eye on the kids for a few minutes?”

“Me?” Willa’s eyes widened in surprise. “Um. Sure. Okay, I guess I could do that.” Skepticism lay thick in her voice. She stood up, looked around, then sat back down again.

Jeff smiled at the uncertainty playing across her face. Her eyes locked onto his. He didn’t break the contact, but stood there baffled by the strange warmth spreading through him.

She blew back a stray, red curl that had fallen loose from its clip. “They won’t wander off and get lost or anything, will they?”

“I don’t think so,” he murmured. “I mean, no, they won’t. But if they do, they all have their whistles and they’ve been taught to hug a tree.” He wondered what her hair would look like falling free around her shoulders.

“Hug a tree? Do you belong to some nature lover’s organization or something?”

She couldn’t be serious, Jeff thought. Certainly, she was teasing him. But he couldn’t discern even the faintest flicker of amusement in her eyes. He stepped closer, close enough to smooth a smudge of dirt off her nose. He draped his whistle around her neck, then rested his hands on her shoulders. Something sparked in his fingertips. He almost pulled back, as a strong current quickened his pulse. He stared into the fathomless depths of her blue-green eyes. Did she feel it, too?

“If you get lost, find a tree, hug it, and blow the whistle.” Caught on a lump in his throat, his voice sounded no louder than a whisper. He cleared it. “Don’t keep wandering around or I won’t be able to find you. It’s basic wilderness rule 101.”

Her mouth formed a perfect little O then widened into an embarrassed smile. “I knew that. Of course, I—” she clutched the whistle. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he said, feeling suddenly inane. Somehow this woman had him turned inside out. “God, grant me strength,” he whispered and tried to clear her from his mind. But her faint vanilla scent lingered, toying with his imagination.

Suddenly, his resolve to stay free of romantic entanglements and concentrate on firmly establishing connections with the kids in his church wavered. But, he reminded himself, courting a woman, discovering if she had values and character traits that were in alignment with his took time. Time he needed to devote to his youth group. He’d once found a woman he thought could have been “the one,” but he’d been wrong. And the distraction had cost him Dawn. He wouldn’t make that mistake again—especially with Tracey. The troubled teenager would have his complete attention.

He turned to the girl. “Walk with me?”

She nodded, and keeping pace a few steps behind him, they left the camp and climbed deeper into the woods. Dusk came quickly here, bringing with it a multitude of insects, big and small. He swatted a flurry of mosquitoes out of his face, and tried to focus on the task at hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Her short, sweet, and clipped answer left him nothing to build on.

“Want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

About how you ended up on the strip poised to flush your life into L.A.’s almighty sewer, he thought. He shouldn’t expect her to open up so quickly. The death of a parent was never easy, he knew all too well. First there was the grief, then the anger and sense of abandonment. It was hard for anyone to deal with, especially a thirteen-year-old girl.

“There’s just something about her I don’t trust.”

Jeff looked at her, confused.

Tracey pulled at a branch as she passed it. “It’s clear that woman has never set foot outside her own backyard.”

“Oh,” Jeff said, understanding. There was something to all those pouts and glares she had directed at Willa.

“She’s a total fraud.”

“We don’t know that. We shouldn’t pass judgment.”

Tracey snorted. “She’s afraid of everything! She freaked at the sight of a snake. What had she expected, lying down in the grass? I can’t wait to tell her to check herself for ticks.”

Jeff smothered a smile as he imagined the expression that would cross Willa’s face. “Let’s give the lady a break, okay?”

“Why should I? Why is she even here?”

“What does it matter? Maybe she wanted to go hiking and took on a little more than she could handle.”

“Yeah, right. All by herself.”

Surprised by the venom in her voice, Jeff stopped and faced her. “What’s this really about?”

“I’ve seen her before,” Tracey admitted. “So have you.”

Nope. Jeff prided himself on remembering people and there was no way he could ever forget a woman like Willa. Unfortunately.

“You saw her this morning on the strip.”

A flicker of memory teased, but refused to sharpen into focus.

“Remember the blonde you thought you’d have to rescue?”

“The one who hadn’t needed rescuing?” How could he forget? The way she’d handled that guy, kicking him with such intense force, he’d never seen anything like it. The two women had the same slight frame, but there was no way that woman, who took on two huge ruffians without batting a lash or breaking a nail, could be Willa. Jeff let out a shaky laugh. “Nah, no way.”

“I got a good look at her in her apartment. It’s her. It’s Blondie. I swear it. Only her hair is different. And her clothes.”

An illusive memory snapped into place; a tendril of curly red hair slipping out from under a blond wig to dance along a silky smooth jaw. Uneasiness twisted inside him. “What would she be doing here?” he thought aloud.

“What if she’s come to take me back? What if Mr. Paulson sent her for me?”

The trembling in Tracey’s voice caught Jeff by surprise. He took both her hands into his own. “Don’t worry, Tracey. I would never let that happen. Believe me?” he asked when she didn’t respond.

She nodded, but wouldn’t look at him.

“I’m glad to hear you don’t want to go back. I’d hate to have to face that man again myself.”

“I don’t. I swear. He was creepy. Real creepy.”

“Are you willing to work with your mom to solve your problems at home?”

She fell into silence again and suddenly she looked so much younger than her thirteen years, so lost and alone.

“She’s lost a lot, too. Give her a chance to figure out how to make it work.”

“I don’t think she can.”

“Mothers aren’t any more perfect than pastors.”

She finally looked at him, a grim smile crossing her face. “Except for you. You are definitely perfect.” Her tone dropped. “You came for me.”

He slipped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I hope I’m always there when you need me, but you know God will always be there for you.” He led her back down the trail, but she hesitated as the camp came into view. “Don’t worry any more tonight about Jack Paulson or Willa,” he said. “I don’t know why she’s here, but I swear I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Tears misted her large, brown eyes, darkening the doubt he saw lingering within. “Promise?” she asked, her voice sounding small and scared.

He cupped her chin and hoped the intensity of his gaze convinced her. “It’s a solemn oath.”

“I’m sorry I ran away.”

“Life isn’t always going to be easy, Tracey. Losing your dad is more than you should have to deal with. I know it isn’t fair, and it isn’t right. And, unfortunately, I don’t have an easy answer as to why this horrible tragedy had to happen to your family. But put your faith in God. If you can face what He throws at you and grow from the challenges, you’ll be a better and stronger person for it.”

“You think?”

“No, I don’t think.” He smiled. “I know. You’re a smart kid. If you start making smart decisions then everything will work out for you. The question is, do you believe it?”

She smiled. “I think so.”

“Well, then, for the remainder of this trip let’s work on you knowing so. Okay?”

“All right.”

As they walked into the camp, Jeff couldn’t help wondering if Tracey was right. Was Willa the bleached blonde who’d given him a back full of bruises? No wonder poor Tracey had been moping around. What could the woman possibly be doing here? For as sure as he knew there was a heaven in the sky, he knew Willa’s arrival was no coincidence.

He saw her sitting before the fire, wiggling her toes in the warmth of the flames. She looked soft and sweet with her rust-colored curls coming to life in the fire’s glow. Not in a million years would he have picked her as one of Jack Paulson’s girls. She didn’t look worn enough, nor were her edges hard or sharp enough. He remembered Dawn’s wan face as it had been the last time he’d seen her alive. He pushed the image from his mind. Willa definitely didn’t have the look of a girl who’d spent much time on the streets.

He’d always thought of himself as a good judge of people. Could he have been so wrong with this one? Willa turned and caught his stare, matching the intensity of his gaze with one of her own. She never backed down, this woman. Who are you, he wondered, and what are you doing here? One way or another, he’d find out.

He picked up his guitar, sat down in front of the fire, and strummed a few chords. One by one, the kids gathered around him. While he played “Jesus Loves Me,” the kids sang along, their harmonious voices resonating through the mountain air. He closed his eyes and felt himself relax as his fingers moved over the strings. The instant his nerve endings tightened, he knew Willa had moved next to him. Even with his eyes shut, he could feel her presence.

He opened his eyes and saw her watching him with childlike wonder. She laughed, clapping in time. The gesture filled him with unexpected lightheartedness. He knew she was a walking, talking disaster. And yet, if anyone needed his help as much as Tracey, it was this woman. If only he knew what she was up to and what her connection was to Jack Paulson.

He watched her as they roasted hot dogs for dinner and toasted marshmallows for dessert. She ate and spent the evening talking quietly with the kids. She honestly seemed to be enjoying herself. Whatever her reason for being there, he was relieved to see she kept clear of Tracey. He’d wait until the others were asleep, he decided, then he and Lady Mysterious would have a talk.

Willa glanced behind her at the encroaching darkness, then inched closer to the fire. Even in the deepest alleys off Sunset Boulevard, she’d never experienced such complete darkness. She hugged her knees and stared into the crackling flames. The smell of wood smoke permeated her clothes, but she didn’t mind. She was growing accustomed to the place, and she might even be enjoying herself, if it weren’t for one tiny exception. She had to pee something fierce.

She peered again into the all-encompassing dark beyond the fire’s glow. There wasn’t anything out there now that wasn’t there when the sun was up, she told herself firmly. Besides, if she didn’t go soon her bladder would burst, and wouldn’t that be amusing? She stood and reconnoitered the perimeter for the best direction to follow. She’d faced down L.A.’s worst scum; surely she could handle a few trees, bushes and darkness. Stop being a baby, she scolded herself. Tentatively, she took a step toward the trees behind Jeff’s tent.

“Watch out for the mountain lions,” Tracey called.

Willa hesitated, knowing full well she’d regret it.

“Lions and tigers and bears,” Matt chimed in a high squeaky voice that cracked over the word bears.

“Oh, my!” the rest of the kids said in unison.

Willa turned.

“Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!”

Shocked, she stood there, staring at them. What a bunch of little beasts! Why would anyone want to go anywhere with six of them?

“All right. That’s enough,” Jeff scolded. “Give the poor lady some peace.”

Willa cringed as she heard the restrained laughter in his voice.

Poor lady! She choked over his words. Is that really what they thought of her? Humiliation burned her to the core. The little predators had smelled her fear and moved in for the kill. “Very funny, you guys,” she called, before slipping into the trees behind the tent. The sooner she got away from these people the better.

Lost in her thoughts, it wasn’t long before she’d wandered too far from the fire’s light and became disoriented in the darkness. Why hadn’t she brought a flashlight? She couldn’t see a thing. All she needed was to squat into a poison oak bush. Wouldn’t that top off her day? Desk duty was looking better and better.

As soon as she’d finished, she made her way back in the direction she’d come, tucking in her shirt and zipping up her jeans as she went. Within a minute of trudging through the bushes, she heard the kids’ voices and trotted back to the camp. The little brats were trying to spook her was all. She’d seen news reports of bears, torturing the metal of hapless cars while foraging for tortilla chips, but she couldn’t recall anyone ever getting mauled by a mountain lion.

Don’t let the kids get to you, she reminded herself. That would be a fatal mistake. Yet still…what if there were man-eating lions in the vicinity? She took one last look into the darkness before making her way back to the fire’s glow. What she wouldn’t give for Johnny’s infrared goggles right now.

She retook her seat in front of Jeff’s tent and caught him scrutinizing her again. Perhaps it was only the shifting light of the flames, but the expression on his face… She turned away, at once uncomfortable.

He stood, poking the fire from several angles, then sat down, positioning himself next to her. “Okay, guys. What do we do if we see a mountain lion?” he asked the kids.

Had she been that easy for him to read? No, stealth and duplicity were her most hard-won skills as an undercover cop. She’d never be able to do her job well without them. She wasn’t transparent, of that she was confident. Except perhaps by him?

Maybe she wasn’t deceiving him at all. Maybe he recognized her. The thought left her shaken. She didn’t like the idea that he thought she was a hooker.

“Wave your arms above your head,” Lisa yelled.

“Pick up a stick,” Matt responded.

“Yeah, a big one,” Kevin added.

“You’re kidding, right?” Willa squeaked. They had to be kidding. “There aren’t really mountain lions around here, are there?”

“Yep, along with wolves, coyotes, and bears.” Jeff’s large hand patted her knee, as if to say, “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you.” What did he think she was, a complete cream puff?

“Make yourself as large as possible,” Charles answered.

“That’s right,” Jeff said.

Professional. She had to act professional. Don’t let them smell fear. “Why don’t you and I take turns keeping watch? I’ll be happy to take the first shift.” She couldn’t imagine what he’d been thinking bringing six children up here alone. How responsible was that?

Matt laughed out loud, several others muffled snickers. She glared at them. Then again, they weren’t exactly helpless babies, were they? Mountain lion bait, more like it.

“What for?” Jeff asked, though there was something about the tone of his voice.

Willa turned back to him. His lips contorted as he tried to smother a laugh. “For predators!” she exclaimed outraged. Duh!

Losing his battle, Jeff laughed long and hard, sending a rush of burning fury straight to her toes. “Mountain lions are not interested in us. Just make sure all the dishes are cleaned and the food is sealed up, and the uh…predators will have no reason to come near here.”

Willa cringed. How had she gotten herself into this situation? Why hadn’t she just booked a hotel room like the captain had suggested? Because she could find them in an hour, no problem, she silently mocked. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

“You can have my tent tonight.” Jeff’s voice cut through her torturous thoughts.

She looked up astonished. “No, I couldn’t do that.” She clamped down on her lip, regretting the words the instant they slipped out of her mouth. Of course, she could. “Where would you sleep?” she asked softly, and berated herself for sounding like the wimp he believed her to be.

“Out here under the stars. I’ll keep watch for the predators.”

She glared at him, certain he was laughing at her again. She could even see the laughter dancing in his eyes. She ached to punch him.

“Unless of course, you’d rather keep watch. I understand you’re pretty good with your feet.”

“No, that’s quite all right. You’ve seen one star, you’ve seen them all. But, thanks, I’ll take you up on the tent offer.”

“My pleasure.” He leaned close, his warm breath tickling her ear and sending shivers straight down her spine. “Maybe in the morning you’ll tell me exactly what you’re doing here, Blondie.”

Dread sunk to the bottom of her stomach. He knew. What to do? What to do! “Um, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to sleep now.” Direct avoidance, a woman’s best tactic. She muffled an oversize yawn. “It’s been quite a day. I’ll see you in the morning.” She got up, took her gear into the tent and zipped it up tight.

Only then did she allow herself to breathe. She’d get the evidence while he slept, then get out before dawn. With luck, she’d be halfway down the mountain before he even woke and realized she was gone. She arranged her sleeping bag then climbed in, squirming as she tried to find a softer bit of ground. What was under her anyhow, granite? Giving up on comfort, she laid back and stared into the darkness.

After a while, the noises died down, or maybe she just became used to them, and the kids went into their tents and all fell quiet. Taking a deep breath, she peeked through the tent’s opening. True to his word, Jeff lay sprawled on the ground in front of her, staring up at the sky. How could anyone sleep where bugs and who knew what else could crawl all over you?

He wouldn’t be out there if it weren’t for you. She sighed. He was incredibly handsome, and kind, too. And the first man to set her heart racing in a very long time. And he thought she was a hooker. Oh well, what difference did it make? There wasn’t a man alive who could see through to the real her. Not the cop—underpaid, underappreciated, and misunderstood—or the woman who’d obviously been alone for too long.

Maybe Ben was right; maybe she did need a life. Not that she’d had much luck with men in the past. As soon as they got close, they were trying to change her, control her, mold her into their idea of the perfect woman. Well, perfect never looked good on her.

At last, his breathing evened. As quietly as possible, she opened the zipper and slipped out of the tent. In the dying glow of the firelight, she methodically searched around his sleeping bag for his jeans, but couldn’t find them. Did he still have them on? She chewed her bottom lip. Of course he did; nothing about this trip was easy. Why should this be any different?

She grabbed the metal tongue of his sleeping bag and, inch by inch, slid the zipper down until the bag was opened to his waist. She glanced up at his face, her heart pounding so hard in her chest, she was afraid he might be able to hear it. She slipped her hand inside his bag and felt around. Tentatively, her fingers scraped across denim. Yep, he was definitely still wearing his jeans. She swallowed hard, then moved her hand around to the vicinity of his back pockets. He let out a soft groan.

Terror leaped into her chest.

His eyes opened.

She froze, unable to move, unable to breathe.

His eyes closed, then he rolled onto his side giving her easy access to the pen. She slipped it out of his pocket, and all but threw herself back into the tent. It wasn’t until after she had herself zipped in tight and settled back down, her heart and breathing returning to normal, that she realized she’d forgotten to rezip his sleeping bag.

“Oh, man,” she muttered. There was just no way, no way, she was going back out there to do it again. He was an expert mountain man; he’d just have to take his chances with the lizards and snakes and all the other predators out there. Poor, poor man, Willa thought as she drifted to sleep.

The next morning, Willa woke to the mouthwatering scent of frying bacon and fresh mountain air. “Oh, no!” She sat straight up in her sleeping bag and bumped her head on the top of her tent. She’d overslept! Quickly, she dressed and reassembled her pack, careful to tuck the Pen Cam safely inside, then slipped out the tent.

Jeff stood with his back to her, watching the sunrise and drinking a cup of coffee. She spied the trail leading down the mountain, but was drawn back to the fire pit by the protesting groan of her stomach. The sight of his coffee and the smell of bacon sizzling over an open fire was more temptation than any mere woman could withstand.

She lugged her pack out of the tent’s opening.

“Good morning,” Jeff greeted. His sun-bleached hair, still tousled from sleep, hung boyishly over his brow.

She smiled. “Back at you.”

“Hungry?”

“Ravenous.”

“Coffee?”

“You really are too good to be true.”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

She quirked a brow, then took a large swallow from the cup he handed her. “Mmm. Coffee has never tasted so good. I never knew camping could be so civilized.”

“You’ve never been camping with me before.”

He caught her gaze and held it. Warmth rushed to her cheeks. “No, I haven’t.” But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t want to. “And it’s been fab, really, but I need to get back to town.”

“So, you got what you came for then?”

Had he felt her searching for the pen? The thought made her squirm. “Fresh air, a little exercise, yep—got it all right.”

“And that was all you are here for?”

His blue eyes probed as if she were a bug pinned under a magnifying glass. She flashed him a bright smile. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve appreciated your hospitality. If you hadn’t found me and taken me in, well, I shudder to think what my night would have been like.”

“In other words, you have no intention of telling me anything, do you, Blondie?”

She was an ingrate, a total worm, and as she stared into the warmth of his eyes, she wanted to tell him. The urge was almost overwhelming. But suddenly, the explanation seemed too complicated. I needed evidence that just happened to be hidden snugly in the back pocket of your jeans. Yep, way too difficult. She couldn’t start going soft now. Not for a handsome man with a nice pair of peepers.

“Maybe I’ll look you up someday. We’ll have coffee….”

“Yeah…sounds good, but I’m afraid I don’t get down to your side of town often.”

Was that a slam? She stared him down. Okay, fine. He thought she was a hooker living in slimeville where his holiness had no intention of ever gracing. She could live with that. “How far are we exactly from the campground at the bottom of the trails?”

“About eight miles.”

She gulped, scalding her throat on the hot liquid. “Eight?” No wonder her feet were a mess.

“Unfortunately, there’s not one trail that will take you all the way down, since we jumped from trail to trail.”

“I see,” she said, at once thankful she’d overslept.

“I’ll draw you a map.”

“I guess it would be too much to hope for that you’ll be heading my way?”

“Sorry, but we’re going north another five miles to the Kern River where a boat is waiting for us. If you like river rafting, you’re welcome to stay and join us.”

An invitation for Blondie? Surprise arched her brows. She allowed herself to imagine floating down a peaceful river, her fingertips skimming the water’s calm surface as she reclined against the side of the rubber raft. Hmm, sounded nice. And she wouldn’t mind spending another day with a handsome pastor who kept her heart thumping and her nerves jumping. She’d never met a man who made her feel so alive. She sighed. Yes, it might be doable.

“I could use another adult to help row,” he added before she could respond. “The person I had lined up got sick and bowed out.”

Her fantasy faltered. “Row?” He didn’t care about her. He just wanted another grown-up body. Too bad she could only manage ten minutes on the rowing machine at the gym. “Sorry,” she muttered. “It sounds fun, really, but I have to get back. Work, you know how it is.”

He nodded and, for a minute, she fancied she read disappointment in his expression, but that couldn’t be. He thought she was a prostitute. The pastor and the prostitute, she could read the headlines now. Wouldn’t that give the captain a coronary? She wrapped a thick layer of gauze around her feet and shoved them into her boots.

“I suppose it’s for the best. Your presence has upset Tracey.”

“Really? Why?”

“She recognized you from the strip.”

Willa had already guessed that, but why did the girl consider her a threat? Unless she didn’t want her secret spilled. “I’m not here to bring harm to Tracey, or anyone else.”

“Then why are you here?”

Willa bit her lip. “Like I said, just out for a hike. Imagine the odds of running into each other way out here?”

“Imagine,” he said dryly. He picked up a piece of paper and reached into his back pocket for the Pen Cam.

Oh, boy. Expectantly, she watched his brow crinkle into a frown before he dismissed the thought and went to his pack for another pen. “Tell Tracey she doesn’t have to worry about me,” she piped up. “And if she’s smart, she’ll stay away from Hollywood and Jack Paulson. I know you believe in evil, and honey, he’s as close to evil as I’ve ever seen.”

“Then maybe you should stay away from him, too.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Here.” He handed her a crude map that she couldn’t make heads or tails of.

“Thanks,” she said and hesitated, a little surprised by her reluctance to leave. Was it the trek down the mountain, or the thought of leaving him? “Maybe I’ll see you around back in L.A.?”

“Doubt it. Like I said, I don’t spend a lot of time on your side of town.”

“Right. Yeah, I suppose you wouldn’t. It was great to meet you, Jeff.” She offered her hand. Her smile faltered as the warmth of his touch trapped the breath in her throat. Yep, it was definitely the thought of leaving him. What a hunk. She turned and headed down the trail, refusing to glance over her shoulder for one last look.

She could do this, she told herself as the forest enveloped her. She had an excellent sense of direction. Everyone had always said so. She’d never once gotten lost in L.A., and with all those freeways that was quite an accomplishment. A few measly trails wouldn’t confuse her. All she had to do was keep heading downhill. She trotted for a minute, pretending it was her morning run, until a heavy tightness banded her chest. Must be the altitude.

Stopping to catch her breath, she dug into her pack for her compass and cell phone. She’d call Ben and let him know she had the evidence and would be home by dinner. She pushed the power button, then waited for the familiar writing to appear across the screen. No reception, nothing.

“Man,” she grumbled. “How do people function out here?” In disgust, she dropped the phone in her bag and studied her compass. Northwest. Great. What did that mean? Which direction had she left her car? At the bottom of the hill, dummy. She shoved the compass back in her pack and continued down the trail. All the trails had to lead to the same place, so if she just stayed on this one, she’d get there. Eventually.

After another twenty minutes, her feet began to sting. After forty, they were screaming for mercy. She found a big rock, sat on it, and pulled off her boots. “Eight miles,” she grumbled. Why hadn’t she just camped out at the bottom of the hill and waited for them to come down? Why was she always in such a hurry to get herself into these situations?

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