About the Author

Joanna Wayne was born and raised in Shreveport, Louisiana, and received her undergraduate and graduate degrees from LSU-Shreveport. She moved to New Orleans in 1984, and it was there that she attended her first writing class and joined her first professional writing organization. Her debut novel, Deep in the Bayou, was published in 1994.

Now, dozens of published books later, Joanna has made a name for herself as being on the cutting edge of romantic suspense in both series and single-title novels. She has been on the Waldenbooks bestseller list for romance and has won many industry awards. She is also a popular speaker at writing organizations and local community functions and has taught creative writing at the University of New Orleans Metropolitan College.

Joanna currently resides in a small community forty miles north of Houston, Texas, with her husband. Though she still has many family and emotional ties to Louisiana, she loves living in the Lone Star state. You may write Joanna at PO Box 852, Montgomery, Texas 77356, USA.

Genuine Cowboy

Joanna Wayne

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my good friends Patsy and Hill, who are always there

when I need them for golf, fun or just to talk. They are

part of the reason I LOVE living in Texas. And to my

marvellous editor who keeps me on track.

Chapter One

“Mommy! Mommy! Don’t let him get me!”

Eve Worthington jerked awake at the sound of her young son’s voice and then dodged the agile body that propelled itself from the floor into the middle of her bed.

She gathered Joey into her arms. “Did you have a nightmare, sweetie?”.

“A man was in my room. He was going to hurt me.”.

“It’s okay, Joey. There’s no one in the house but you and me. You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”.

She kissed the top of Joey’s head and let her lips linger in the soft blond hair that smelled like sunshine and springtime. She held him close, her hands splayed across his back until the shudders stopped.

It had been two years since he’d lost his father to a drive-by shooting mere blocks from their Dallas home. He’d been almost four years old at the time, independent and curious, a ball of energy who was eager for any adventure.

Now he seldom made it through the night without waking screaming, in the throes of a nightmare. He held tightly on to her hand whenever the two of them left the house. Even at the neighborhood park that he loved, he didn’t want her out of his sight, especially if there was a man around. When she’d tried to enroll him in kindergarten, he’d become so distraught, she’d decided to hold him back a year.

She was a psychiatrist. She should know how to help Joey get past this, know how to make him feel safe. Her mentor and favorite professor, Edgar Callen, claimed she was simply too close to the situation to be objective.

Edgar was probably right but her own fears went much deeper than even he knew. Her three years of working with prisoners in Texas correctional institutions had left their scars even before she’d lost her husband.

Her friend Miriam, whom she seldom saw anymore, also a psychiatrist, believed that Eve had become far too protective of Joey. Miriam was likely correct in her assessment as well. But Joey had been through so much that Eve couldn’t help being overly cautious with him.

“Can I sleep with you, Mommy?”.

“You’ll be more comfortable in your bed. I’ll come and lie down with you until you fall asleep.”.

“I don’t want to go back in there.”.

“We’ll turn on all the lights and look around. When you see your toys and stuffed animals, you’ll know the bad dream wasn’t real.”.

“It seemed real.”.

“I know it did. Nightmares are like that, but there’s nothing in your room when the light is off that’s not there when the light is on.”

She scooted to the edge of the bed, then threw her bare feet to the floor, just as a streak of lightning zigzagged across the night sky. Joey stood on the mattress and wrapped his short arms around her neck.

She picked him up, noting, as always, how light he felt in her arms. He was small for his age and a difficult eater, constantly complaining of stomach pains. The pediatrician had ruled out any medical reasons for them.

Once back in his room, they spent a good half hour making sure every toy was in place. By the time he’d settled in his bed with his stuffed lion, a light rain was slapping against the window and low rumbles of thunder growled in the distance.

Eve snuggled beside her son until he fell asleep, though she doubted he’d sleep soundly with the storm kicking up outside. There was little use to go back to her room only to be dragged from bed again.

She climbed out of his bed stealthily and turned down the quilt on the spare twin bed in Joey’s room. Finally, Eve drifted into a sound sleep. When she opened her eyes again, it was half-past six. Amazingly, both she and Joey had slept through the rest of the night.

She stretched and turned to check on her son. He’d kicked off his covers, but his lion was still clutched tightly to his chest. She listened to his gentle breathing, watched the steady rise and fall of his chest and felt a tightening in her throat.

Moving quietly so as not to wake him, she climbed from the bed and walked to the bedroom door, lingering to look back at Joey. If only he always looked as peaceful as he did this minute.

Padding to the rear of the house, she started a pot of coffee, pausing when she was done to stare out the kitchen window. The thunderstorm had given way to a calm dawn, but water puddled the lawn and dripped from the few leaves that clung stubbornly to the lone oak tree.

Eve went back to her bedroom for her slippers before walking almost to the street to retrieve the plastic-wrapped copy of The Dallas Morning News. When she’d worked, reading the newspaper had been a luxury reserved for weekends and holidays. Now that she’d become a full-time mother to her troubled son, it was part of her morning routine.

Stripping away the wet wrapper, she tossed it into the trash and spread the paper on the kitchen table as the odor of fresh-perked coffee filled the room. The headlines dealt with the wrangling between local politicians. She ignored it and skimmed the rest of the page before flipping to an inside section.

Her breath caught as her focus centered on a black- and-white photograph at the top of the page. The caption beneath the picture gave her chills.

Orson Bastion had escaped from the Texas State Penitentiary at Huntsville, Texas.

Eve sank into the chair as her mind dragged her into the past. Her home phone rang, startling her back into the present. She checked the caller ID. Gordon Epps, the prison’s warden. She lifted the receiver.

“I just read about Orson’s escape,” she said, saving him the trouble of trying to break it to her gently.

“I was afraid of that. Are you okay?”

“I’ve had better mornings. When did he escape?”

“Sometime during the night. He was first missed at the 2:00 a.m. security check. One of the security patrol found the guard pulling night duty on Orson’s wing dead. He’d been strangled.”

“Orson’s calling card. Are you sure he escaped the premises?”

“Relatively sure. We’ve spent the night searching and there’s no sign of him. Speculation is that he somehow rode out with the trash.”

At least he was with his own kind.

“He took the guard’s gun, so we know he’s armed.”

“And there’s no doubt he’s dangerous,” Eve added. “He could be anywhere by now.”

“Law enforcement officers across the state have been notified. With any luck, he’ll be back in custody in a matter of hours. Still, I wanted to give you a heads-up.”

“You don’t think he’ll come after me, do you? I haven’t had any dealings with him in two years. He must have a lot worse enemies than me to get even with.”

“I suspect Orson’s only interested in saving his own hide now. He’s likely keeping a low profile and hightailing it out of the state as fast as he can.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“If you’re worried at all, Eve, you could always go spend a few days with Troy Ledger. His ranch is not that far away, and I know he’d love to see you.”

“How is he?”.

“Adjusting well to freedom. He’s reunited with his son Dylan and they’re working his old ranch.”.

“Then I doubt he’d be thrilled about my running to him at the first sign of trouble.”.

“Just a thought. How’s the boy?” Epps asked.

“Joey’s making progress, but still experiencing a lot of anxiety and separation issues.”.

“I hate to hear that. I’ve got to run, Eve, but if there’s anything I can do, give me a call. And think about paying a visit to Troy. If Orson is stupid enough to seek revenge against you for your testimony at his parole hearing, he’d never think of looking for you at the home of a former inmate accused of killing his own wife.”.

If Orson was stupid enough to come after her … But Orson wasn’t stupid. She’d seen the results of his intelligence testing. He bordered on genius. That didn’t mean he wasn’t evil to the core. And he had threatened to get back at her for fouling his early parole attempt.

Orson’s threat echoed in her mind. She had no doubt when he’d hurled it at her that he’d meant every word. So how could she convince herself that he wouldn’t come after her now?.

“I appreciate the call, Gordon.”.

“Okay, and keep me posted if you decide to leave home. If you stay, you need to alert the police that Orson could show up there. Demand protection. Promise me you’ll do that.”.

“I’m not sure the Dallas Police Department responds to citizen demands.”.

“Then go see Troy for a few days. He’ll understand and you’re surely not afraid of him. You’ve said yourself that you’d never met a prisoner whose innocence was as compelling as Troy’s.”.

She had been convinced of his innocence, had even made a statement to the press on his release that she’d trust him with her life and the life of her son.

She’d meant the words at the time. But was she ready to put them to the test?.

Did she dare not?

Chapter Two

The frosty late November air had a bite to it, and the wind stung Sean Ledger’s face as he ducked through the door and into the cozy barn. He was up early and raring to go to work. He had a feeling this just might be the day he made some real headway with Go Lightly.

He’d been at Cahill Horse Farm for just over six months and Go Lightly was still a challenge. The horse had racing in its blood and was fast enough to be a threat in any of the major races for two-year-olds.

Until the starter fired his shot and the gates opened. Then Go Lightly bucked and fought the jockey, as if he were being asked to run along a track planted with land mines. Ted Cahill was about ready to give up on the animal. Sean wasn’t.

He just needed more time, and fewer distractions—compliments of Tom’s wife.

Women. Sean didn’t understand them and doubted he ever would. Give him a horse any day. Sean could get into a horse’s mind, figure out what had frightened it or killed its spirit. Given time, Sean could usually bring a horse around.

Women, on the other hand, were beyond comprehension. As far as he was concerned, they weren’t just from another planet, but from another galaxy. And they were welcome to it.

He pushed the irritating thoughts aside and tuned into the life pulsing in the barn. Suzy pawed at the pile of hay at her feet, threw back her head and snorted.

“Good morning, old girl.” Sean reached over and scratched the long nose. “You don’t like being ignored, do you?”.

Suzy snorted again and stretched her head over the stall door so that she could rub against the rough denim of Sean’s jacket.

Thunder threw back his head and neighed loudly, then kicked his back feet, protesting any- and everything. Aptly named, he was the most high spirited of all the quarter horses at Cahill Farms. He’d been a winner in his day, and he knew it. The past glory earned him the right to be a contrary sire.

The stud settled a bit, almost gloatingly, when Sean turned his attention to him. Sean shrugged out of his denim jacket and hung it on a peg near the door. Leaning against a support post, he pulled a folded envelope from his shirt pocket. He removed the letter, the latest from his brother Dylan. After reading through it, Sean reread the last paragraph.

“You’d love the Texas Hill Country, Sean. Pay us a visit, if only for a few days. Give Dad a chance. You won’t be sorry.”.

Troy did not share Dylan’s confidence that he’d like returning to the ranch. And as for giving Troy Ledger a chance, those days were long gone. When he was a kid, he’d had his father on a pedestal so high the man would have needed a parachute to come back to earth safely.

Troy Ledger hadn’t utilized a parachute or a safety net. He’d nosedived off the perch into the pool of blood that had soaked Sean’s brutally slain mother.

“Is that a love letter?”.

Sean turned at the seductive voice, nodded to Sasha Cahill, then folded the letter and stuffed it back in his pocket. “Far from it.”.

“I’ll bet you left lots of broken hearts back in Kentucky when you came to work for my father.”.

Not a subject he was interested in pursuing, especially not with his boss’s seventeen- going on twenty-one-year-old daughter. “Don’t you have school today?”.

“Teacher Institute day. You don’t mind my company, do you?”.

“I’m paid to work, not socialize.”.

“I love watching you interact with Go Lightly. Your voice and the way you touch him makes me wish I was an emotionally scarred racehorse you were out to save.”.

Oh, good grief. It was bad enough that Sasha’s mother came on to him like a dog in heat. Now Sasha. If it was something in the water, Ted Cahill had best dig his family a new well.

“You’re not a horse.” She was a spoiled brat, though he refrained from saying so. “Why don’t you take Suzy out for a ride? She could use a good workout.”.

“Horses aren’t the only animals that need a whisperer, Sean.”

The whisperer label was one Sean had never encouraged. It sounded like magic and tended to make people expect miracles. Sean was not a magician. He walked away, heading toward the back of the horse barn where he had a small office.

“Please come riding with me, Sean. I hate to ride alone. You know Mom’s worthless before noon and Daddy’s gone for the day.”.

Her voice had that breathless quality that made her sound like a hormonally charged adolescent trying out for the role of Lolita. If he was her father, he’d ground her until she was past the pimple stage.

Sean shook his head. “Sorry, kid, I have work to do.”.

He strode past the horses, stepped into his office and closed the door behind him. Had there been a bolt, he’d have locked it. The idea of owning his own quarter horse farm sounded better by the day, and he probably had enough money saved to pull it off if he still took on a few private clients who owned problem horses.

He tossed his hat to the top of a stack of unopened cardboard boxes and plopped onto the worn chair behind the metal desk. Remembering the letter, he pulled it from his pocket and dropped it into the top drawer to be answered later—with a very succinct “no.”.

Forging a relationship with a father he hadn’t seen since the day the man received a life sentence for murdering his mother didn’t hold a lot of appeal for Sean. Release on a technicality didn’t wash away the man’s sins.

The door to Sean’s office squeaked open. He groaned. When he finally looked up, Sasha’s jacket was dangling from a crooked finger. Her chest was bare, her firm breasts pointing at him as if daring him to resist temptation.

He took a deep breath—and the dare. “Put your jacket on, Sasha. You’re too smart, too pretty and way too young to be playing this stupid game. Don’t devalue what you are inside by throwing yourself at me or anyone else.”.

She leaned against the rough-hewn doorframe. “Look at me, Sean. You’ll see I’m old enough.”.

Sean stood and grabbed his Stetson. When he reached the door, he picked up Sasha at the waist to move her out of his way. The crazy kid threw her legs around him and pressed her bare breasts against his chest.

He heard footsteps and cringed as he looked up to find Laci Cahill staring at him. The old adage “If looks could kill” had never seemed more apt.

Laci propped her hands on her hips. “Well, this explains a lot.”.

“This is not what it looks like,” he assured Sasha’s mother.

Laci’s irate glare made it clear that she didn’t believe him.

Thankfully, Sasha had dismounted his hips at her mother’s appearance and was pulling on her jacket at a speed that he’d previously only seen her exhibit when texting messages on her touch-screen cell phone.

Laci stepped inside the office. “Go to your room, Sasha.”.

Sasha scooted past him without a glance.

“Why bother with the old mare when you have the filly?” Laci snapped.

“I’m here to train horses, Laci. That’s all, and I definitely didn’t initiate that scene you just walked in on.”.

“Do you expect me to believe that?”.

“I can’t control what you believe, but I’m telling you the truth.”.

“Stay away from my daughter, Sean. If I ever catch the two of you in another compromising position, I’ll not only see that Ted fires you, but that you never work as a trainer again. Do I make myself clear?”.

“Crystal clear.”.

In fact, a lot of things were clear right now, mainly that he couldn’t work in this type of strained environment. “I’ll pack my things and be off the Cahill property by noon.”.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”.

“You don’t have to worry about watching me every second or firing me. I quit.”.

Laci grabbed his arm. “That’s not necessary. I know how Sasha is. This isn’t the first time she’s pulled something like this.”.

Talk about changing horses in midstream. A minute ago, Sean was to blame for everything. Now it was Sasha. A man could get dizzy trying to keep up.

“I’ll leave Ted the names of a couple of guys he might want to interview for my job,” Sean said. Older men who hopefully wouldn’t be subjected to seduction at every turn. “And don’t worry, I’ll leave you and Sasha out of my explanation for leaving on such short notice.”.

“You’re making a mistake, Sean. There’s not a trainer in the state who wouldn’t salivate at the thought of going to work for Ted Cahill.”.

“And now one lucky applicant will get to drool all over his work shirt.” Sean tipped his hat and walked away. Amazing, how a man could start out a day with great expectations, only to have it blow up in his face.

Sean went back to the desk and pulled his brother’s letter from the drawer. Dylan’s written words weighed heavy on his mind as he retrieved his worn jacket and walked back to his small cabin to gather his things. Maybe a trip to the Texas Hill Country wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

It would be good to see Dylan again and finally meet his brother’s new wife—before Dylan’s dreams of idyllic marriage evolved into reality.

Or maybe that kind of luckless romance was reserved for Sean.

Chapter Three

Troy Ledger turned off the TV and walked back to his small kitchen, taking his half-empty plate with him. He’d just caught the tail end of the six o’clock news, and that had been enough to kill his appetite.

Orson Bastion had escaped from the pen and taken out a guard in the process. Talk about a brutal reminder of his prison life. Impulsively, his hand moved to the scar on his cheek.

His thoughts moved to Eve Worthington. The news of Bastion’s escape had to be frightening for her. If he had her phone number he’d call her. But best that he didn’t have it. For all he knew, she’d left the area by now.

Troy washed his plate, rinsed it and stood it in the drainer. He reached for the skillet he’d used to fry a slice of ham for his sandwich and immersed it in the hot, soapy water. The old dishwasher needed replacing, but there wasn’t much need for a fancy machine when a man lived alone.

His son, Dylan, and Dylan’s new wife, Collette, had moved out of the old family house and into their starter ranch house two weeks earlier. They needed their privacy. They were only a good horse ride away, but Troy missed them a lot more than he was willing to admit.

Troy and Dylan had built the newlyweds’ house themselves, with lots of suggestions from Collette. She was quite a woman, even reminded him of Helene a little. Not that he needed a reminder of Helene. She was seldom far from his mind and never out of his heart. Never had been. Never would be.

But the last few months of working with his son on the house and the ranch they were getting up and running again had meant more to Troy than Dylan could possibly realize. Seventeen years in prison had robbed Troy of much of his five sons’ childhood and all of their adolescence. They’d grown from boys to men without him. Dylan was the only one of the five who’d shown any interest in having Troy back in his life. He prayed that would change one day, but he couldn’t count on it.

Troy finished the dishes and dried his hands. It was only six in the evening, but he was exhausted. Working from sunup to sundown did that for a man. Fatigue didn’t bother him. The prospect of spending another night alone in the rambling old house did.

He could handle the days, but alone at night, memories of Helene haunted his mind. He could hear her laughter, sweet and melodic, filling the house as she interacted with their rambunctious sons.

He could smell her fragrance, like a bouquet from the garden she’d pampered like one of their children. He could see her on Sunday morning, her dark, shiny hair dancing about her shoulders, leading them all to church whether they liked it or not.

But the most devastating memories came when he crawled into the bed he’d once shared with Helene. It had taken him weeks to even enter the master bedroom, had taken weeks more before he could bear sleeping in the bed.

Even now, three months later, he couldn’t stretch out between the sheets without his arms literally aching to wrap around her and feel her warm, loving body cuddled against his. Some nights the pain was all but unbearable.

He leaned against the sink as the memories swelled inside him. The gentle ache in his chest erupted into heated stabs that threatened to slice his heart into pieces.

The images swirling in his head darkened as the nightmare he’d lived over and over for almost two decades took front and center: Helene’s body in a pool of blood, faceup, her head against the hearth, her beautiful locks of hair matted with crimson.

The pain became blinding and this time much too physical. Troy clutched his chest as he stumbled backward, falling against the scarred wooden table. Each beat of his heart was agony.

Then reality checked in. This was more than grief. He was having a coronary attack.

There was a knock at the door as he tried to drag himself to the phone. The door was unlocked, as it usually was on the ranch. He waited, hoping it was Dylan. But there was no reason to think his son would return tonight.

He heard a child’s voice, or maybe he was hallucinating.

He fell over a chair and the crash reverberated through the house.

“Troy, are you in there? Are you okay?”

The voice was female, vaguely familiar. He tried to answer, but all he managed was a guttural moan.

“Troy, what’s wrong?”

He looked up and into the eyes of Eve Worthington. Now he was certain he was hallucinating. The last person who’d be coming to his rescue was the young psychiatrist who’d worked so hard to pull him from his emotional shell while he was in prison.

“Please tell me what’s wrong. Is it your heart?”

His response was choked by the pain.

“Hang in here with me, Troy. I’m calling an ambulance.”

The room began to spin. He tried to focus on Eve, only to have her disappear in a swirl of darkness.

He wouldn’t die. He couldn’t. Not until he found Helene’s killer. He would not fail her again.

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM, Momma? Is he dying?”

“Shh, Joey. He’s sick. We have to help him.”

Troy muttered something unintelligible. She leaned in closer so that she could hear him better.

“Dylan,” he gasped. “Call Dylan.”

Dylan—the son Gordon Epps had mentioned. “I’ll get him,” she said, her fingers already punching in 911 on her unfamiliar cell phone. Once she was assured medical help was on the way, she glanced around the room and spotted Troy’s cell phone on the kitchen table.

She left Troy’s side long enough to get it. It took only a second to find Dylan’s number amidst Troy’s limited contacts. He answered on the second ring.

“What’s up, Dad?”.

“This isn’t Troy, but I’m with him. I think he’s having a heart attack. I’ve called an ambulance, but he’s asking for you.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. She wasn’t even sure she was making sense.

“Who is this?”.

“I’m just a friend who happened to drop in. Troy’s in a lot of pain and barely conscious.”.

“I’ll be right there.”.

“I’m scared, Momma. Let’s go home.”.

She looked at her son. “We can’t go yet, sweetie.” She held out a hand and he inched toward her, clearly frightened of Troy.

“Eve.” Troy’s speech was clearer, but sweat beaded on his brow and his breathing was still labored.

“I’m right here, Troy.”.

“Orson …”.

“Yeah.” She cradled Troy’s head in her arms. “He’s escaped.”.

“Dangerous … Stay safe.”.

“I will.” Even in the panic of a heart attack, Troy was worried about her. That was so like him. Thank God, she’d shown up when she did.

Joey tugged on her arm. She tried to pull him down beside her, but he backed away. “Is that a bad man?”

“No. He’s my friend.”.

The words didn’t convince Joey, and she couldn’t do much to make him feel safe until the emergency was over. Fortunately, the door flew open minutes later and a good-looking man in jeans rushed in, still pulling on his shirt. An attractive woman with flaming red hair followed right behind.

She stood and moved away so that they could squeeze in beside Troy. “I’m Eve Worthington, an old friend of your father’s. I just—” The scream of an approaching ambulance drowned out the rest of her words.

Dylan took over from there and the next few minutes passed in a blur of activity. Joey began to tremble as the house filled with strangers and medics who worked quickly to get Troy onto the gurney and into the ambulance. Eve held on to his shaking hand, tugging him out of the way and giving assurances as best she could amid the chaos.

Both Dylan and Collette Ledger were so engrossed in their concern for Troy that they simply accepted her explanation as being an old friend without question. It wasn’t until Dylan had thanked her profusely and rushed to follow the ambulance to the hospital that she had a minute to reflect on her own situation.

It wasn’t good. Once she’d realized that the police weren’t taking concerns for her and Joey’s safety seriously, she decided to take Gordon’s advice and pay Troy a visit. She really hadn’t thought beyond that.

For the first time since she’d arrived on the scene, Eve really looked at Collette Ledger. Even in sweatpants, she was striking, with thick red hair that fell in loose curls about her shoulders and a faultless complexion.

Eve suspected they were near the same age, though Collette could easily be a few years younger than her thirty-one years.

“I’m so thankful you dropped by,” Collette said. “I hate to think what might have happened if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

“I’m glad I was here, too,” Eve said. “Believe me, my timing is not usually that good.”

“You’re not from this area, are you?”

“No. I live in Dallas.”

“I didn’t think I’d seen you around town before. How do you know Troy?”

“From prison.”

“Really? Prison.”

“I was his psychiatrist.”

“You don’t look like a psyche. Not that you looked like an inmate. I mean …”

“It’s okay,” Eve assured her. “We’re both a little shaken now.”

“That’s for sure. I don’t know what your experience with Troy has been, but I’m guessing it was good, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m very fond of him,” Eve said.

“So am I, Collette agreed. “He’s difficult to get to know, but once he opens up to you, you can’t help but like him. And no matter what anyone says, I know he didn’t kill his wife. Dylan realizes that, too.”

“I agree,” Eve said.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page here. Troy didn’t mention that you were stopping by tonight.”.

“I was going to surprise him,” Eve said. Shock him was more like it. And ask him if she could stay with him a few days. That was out of the question now. There was no reason to get into any of that with Collette, though.

“I’ll be going now,” Eve said. “There’s nothing more I can do here except get in the way.”.

“Where are you going?”.

An excellent question that Eve couldn’t honestly answer. She’d had no backup plan. Eve quickly considered her options. “Joey and I are on our way to visit friends in Austin,” she lied.

Joey tugged on the hem of her shirt. “You said we were going to a ranch.”.

“We did. This is it. Now we’re off to the rest of our adventure.”.

“There’s no need to rush off,” Collette said. “If you’re half as shaken as I am, you’re in no shape to drive. And I could really use the company. I hate the thought of waiting alone for news about Troy. I’ll make coffee.”.

“Coffee sounds good. And I do think I’m still in a bit of shock.”.

Collette filled the pot with water from the tap and spooned the grinds into the filter. “I’m so worried about my father-in-law that I can barely measure the water.”.

“Troy’s tough. If anyone can pull through a heart attack, it’s him,” Eve said, unconsciously falling into the psychiatrist role. Not that they were certain Troy had a heart attack, but it had certainly appeared to be a coronary trauma.

“Have you had dinner?” Collette asked. “I’m not sure what Troy has in his fridge, but I have leftover roast beef and gravy at my house, or I could make you a salad. And I’m sure we could rustle up the makings of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at either house, if Joey would prefer that.”.

“Thanks, but we’ve had dinner.” Joey had eaten half a sandwich and a few apple slices in the car. That qualified as a major meal for him. As for herself, she hadn’t eaten anything all day except a half slice of toast and a few cashews she’d munched in the car. Her stomach had been in no condition for food after the morning’s call from Gordon. Her insides were even shakier now.

“What’s your son’s name?” Collette asked. “You probably said already, but it didn’t register in the bedlam.”.

Eve rested her hands on his shoulders. “This is Joey.”.

“Hi, Joey.”.

The boy mumbled a hello, his eyes downcast.

“Joey. I like that name,” Collette said. “Would you like to watch TV? I can probably find the cartoon channel if you’ll help me.”.

Joey nodded, but scrunched himself against Eve’s leg as if Collette had threatened a time-out.

“He’s shy around strangers,” Eve said, wishing that was all that kept him glued to her.

“Can’t blame him for being a little cautious, considering what we’ve been dealing with tonight. Why don’t you get him settled in the family room? I’ll bring the coffee when it’s brewed.”.

“Thanks.”

Joey clung to her leg, his thin fingers digging into the fabric of her trousers as he shadowed her to the couch. By the time she found a channel he liked, Collette was returning with the coffee, a glass of milk and two oatmeal cookies that appeared to be homemade. Collette set the milk and cookies near Joey.

He mumbled a thank-you, and smiled timidly, staring at Collette from beneath his dark lashes. Eve experienced another wave of uneasiness that bordered on panic. They would have been safe here, even if Orson did still have the crazy notion of coming after her. It was certainly the kind of thing that a manipulative, revengeful person like Orson would do. Now her only option would be a stuffy hotel, and even taking Joey to a park would involve risk.

She and Collette moved to chairs near the window, still in Joey’s sight, but not so close that he’d hear every word, even if he had been listening. Fortunately, he appeared lost in a cartoon.

Eve supplied the most basic facts about her relationship with Troy—that he had become a friend as well as a patient when she had served as his therapist during his incarceration. She’d stopped working at the prison two years ago and hadn’t seen Troy since that time. She felt remiss for not getting in touch with him sooner.

“I wish everyone saw Troy as you do,” Collette said. “Too many people around here still see him as a murderer. Troy never complains, but I know the suspicions and mistrust take their toll. I think it hurts him most that his sons have avoided seeing him since his release—except for Dylan, of course.”

“Troy always talked a lot about his sons.”.

“He will be so sorry he missed visiting with you.”.

The conversation turned to less stressful topics. Ranch life. The house Dylan and Collette had just built. Helene’s treasured courtyard garden that Collette had restored with Dylan and Troy’s help. Life in the small town of Mustang Run.

When Colette’s phone rang, Eve was surprised to see that an hour had passed since the ambulance had sped away with Troy inside.

Collette pulled the phone from her pocket and checked the caller ID. “It’s Dylan.”.

The tension seemed to melt from Collette’s features as she talked, allowing Eve to breathe easier. She stood and took their coffee cups to the sink, giving Collette a little privacy. For once, Joey didn’t follow.

Collette was smiling when she joined her in the kitchen. “They’re still running tests, but Troy is responding to treatment and meds. He’s conscious and talking.”.

“Thank goodness.”.

Moisture brimmed in Collette’s eyes. “It would have been so sad if Troy had lost his life just when he was finding it again. I just hope his other sons give him a chance the way Dylan has.”.

“Maybe tonight’s incident will open their eyes,” Eve said.

“I wouldn’t bet on it, but I’m sure Dylan will let them know about it. Anyway, Dylan said Troy remembers that you were here, and he’s asked about you.”

She’d almost hoped he wouldn’t remember. He didn’t need to waste his energy worrying about her.

“He seems to be under the impression that you’re in some kind of trouble,” Collette said.

“I’m sure I didn’t say anything to give him that impression.”.

“Still, Dylan says he seems anxious to see you. I know this is an imposition, but is there any way you could make a quick trip to the hospital in the morning? It would mean a lot to him.”.

“I’m not sure.” She wasn’t even sure she’d stay in Austin. Perhaps the best thing now would be to just go home and rely on the police for protection.

“You could stay the night,” Collette said. “Then you wouldn’t have to drive these unfamiliar country roads in the dark.”.

“You mean stay here at the ranch?”.

“Sure, there’s lots of room,” Colette said. “It’s not fancy, but it’s comfortable. I’d invite you to stay with Dylan and me, but unfortunately we haven’t furnished the guest room as yet.”.

Staying here was the perfect solution. Even if Orson was still planning revenge, he wouldn’t show up here. And by morning Orson might be behind bars again.

“I suppose I could stay tonight,” she said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. “If you’re sure Troy won’t mind.”.

“After you saved his life? Not that he’d mind anyway. I’ll help you get your things out of the car and show you to the guest rooms. All the beds have new mattresses and linens, so you can take your pick.”

“I can manage the luggage. I’ll just bring in an overnight bag.”.

“Then I’ll straighten the kitchen. Oh, but first give me your cell phone number in case I need to get in touch with you about Troy. That way you won’t have to bother picking up the house phone if it rings and answering a hundred questions if someone calls for Troy. And I’ll give you my number in case you need something in the house that you can’t locate.”.

Eve was hesitant to give Collette her phone number. The phone was new, temporary, bought with cash at a convenience store to make certain Orson could not use it to track her down. It had been purchased right after she’d gone to the bank and withdrawn five thousand dollars so that she wouldn’t have to use her credit cards.

The only one who had the phone number was Gordon Epps—and the ambulance service, if they bothered to check their incoming call records.

But surely Collette could be trusted.

Once they’d exchanged numbers, Eve took her car keys from her pocket and started to her car. Joey jumped off the couch when he saw her pass with her keys in hand.

“I’ll be right back, sweetie. You can keep watching TV. I’m just going to the car to get our luggage.”.

“What about our adventure?”.

“It’s late, and I’m very tired. We’ll spend the night and get an early start in the morning.”.

“I don’t want to spend the night here. I wanna sleep in my bed.”

“Your bed is all the way back in Dallas. Besides, this is your first visit to a real ranch.”.

“And in the morning, I’ll show you the cows and the horses,” Colette said. “Do you like horses?”.

“I think so. I never got close to one,” he said, hurrying to keep up with Eve as she started toward the car. “But I need to go home.”.

Eve stooped and hugged him. “It’s going to be okay, Joey. You’ll like it here, and I’ll sleep next to you.”.

“Promise?”.

“I promise.”.

The howl of coyotes in the distance and the forlorn hoot of an owl greeted them as they stepped onto the porch. Dark shadows jumped out at her as she took the creaking steps to the walk. Weirdly, she had a chilling feeling that someone was watching her.

It was just the isolation of the ranch and the fear that stalked her. She couldn’t give in to it. Yet the icy trepidation stayed with her until she and Joey were back inside the well-lit house.

She’d be safe here. To believe otherwise in the face of the facts would be letting Orson Bastion win the battle of minds without him ever making a move against her.

She was tougher than that.

THE CREAKS AND RASPS of the rambling old ranch house set Eve’s nerves on edge. Surprisingly, the same had not been true for Joey. He’d fallen asleep mere minutes after she’d tucked him into a twin bed at the end of the long hallway.

Once she was sure he was sleeping soundly, Eve left him to brush her teeth and wash and cream her face in the nearby bathroom.

Thoughts of Orson continued to plague Eve’s mind as she slipped into her cotton pajamas. Of all the inmates she’d counseled, he’d been the only one she dreaded having to talk to—even before the night he’d left no doubt that he could kill her without a second’s remorse.

Joey was still sleeping soundly when she returned to the bedroom, but anxiety was buzzing inside Eve like a horde of angry bumblebees. Knowing sleep wouldn’t come quickly, she went back to the family room and turned on the TV.

The local news was coming up next. Great. If they’d just announce that Orson Bastion had been recaptured, her nightmare could end and she could not only get a good night’s sleep, but actually look forward to seeing Troy in the morning.

She shed her slippers and stretched out on the brown leather sofa while a string of commercials aired. Finally the screen switched to the newsroom of a local channel.

“Stay tuned for breaking news concerning escaped convict Orson Bastion.”.

Eve tensed and waited. When a sophisticated blond anchor appeared, the grim expression on her meticulously made-up face guaranteed the news would be disturbing.

“A young woman was fatally strangled after being kidnapped from a Dallas shopping center this afternoon. Her car was found deserted a few hours later. Police suspect that escaped prisoner Orson Bastion may have been involved in the death.”.

Eve clutched a throw pillow to her chest and fought off a bout of nausea. Orson had killed again, which was exactly what she’d testified he’d do if he was released from prison.

He’d exhibited so many behaviors consistent with that of a psychopath, especially the lack of emotional involvement with others. The only thing that was missing was the fact that he didn’t have a real history of criminal behavior; or, if he did, she hadn’t been made aware of it.

He was in jail for killing his stepbrother in an act of rage. He’d only received a charge of second-degree murder. Orson had been twenty-eight years old at the time. He was forty now.

Eve flicked off the TV. She didn’t need to hear more. Gordon had said Orson would never look for her at the Ledger ranch, but what if Gordon was wrong? Still, this was likely the safest place on the planet, at least for the time being.

If Troy were here, she’d likely feel totally safe, but she was alone in this rambling old house, without so much as a weapon to protect her son.

She walked to the kitchen, checked the drawers and took out a carving knife. Just in case. Not that she’d need it. Still, knife in hand, she wandered back into the den just as streams of light flicked across the window. The low hum of an engine purred and then stopped.

Someone was here, parked in the driveway.

Surely not Orson. He couldn’t have found her this quickly. Yet adrenaline pumped through her leaving her shaking so violently she had to hold the knife with both hands.

Heavy footsteps clumped across the wooden porch. Eve fought the rising panic. She had to stay calm. She could do this. She had to do this. If the man outside the door was Orson, a lock would never deter him.

She stood so that she’d be behind the door if it opened, poised to bury the blade of the knife in Orson’s back the minute he stepped inside—if it was Orson.

She heard the flick of a key in the lock. If the person at the door had a key, surely it wasn’t Orson. The knob turned, the door opened and the intruder stepped across the threshold.

His breathing was deep and sharp. His voice echoed though the room.

“The day of reckoning has finally come.”

Chapter Four

The voice proclaiming the fatalistic message was masculine, husky. Unfamiliar.

The intruder reached for the door and slammed it shut, leaving her and the knife in full view.

Her knees buckled and her breath rushed out in a whoosh. This wasn’t Orson. Instead, it was hunk of a cowboy who reeked of strength and power.

Before she could say anything, he grabbed the arm holding the knife, yanked it over her head and shoved her against the wall. She struggled to push him away, but she might as well have been flailing against a brick wall. A brick wall with broad shoulders that smelled of musk and forest glens.

“Take your hands off me,” she sputtered.

“After you tell me what the hell is going on here.”.

“I thought you were someone else.” Her relief drowned in a rush of confusing awareness, as the man’s breath heated a spot just below her right earlobe. His masculinity was staggering. She gasped and gulped for air.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

“I’m a friend of Troy’s. Now back off before I—”.

“Before you what, come at me with a knife?”.

She writhed and tried again to break free, but he strengthened his hold on her wrists and kept his body pressed against hers.

Finally, she shifted so that she was staring straight into the depths of his dark eyes at extremely close range. Something jumped inside her, an eruption of emotions that under the circumstances made no sense at all.

His hold loosened, as if whatever had left her quaking had affected him as well. “I’ll take that knife,” he said. “And then you can tell me who you are and why you’re defending my father’s house like it was the Holy Grail.”.

Anxiety swelled again. This didn’t add up. “You’re lying,” she said. “I met Troy’s son earlier tonight.”.

“You may have met Dylan. I’m Sean, the mild-mannered offspring with a cool head. Lucky for you.”.

She saw the resemblance now. He looked even more like Troy than Dylan did. The same slightly squared jawline. The same classic nose. Only, Sean was years younger than Troy, and so ruggedly handsome that he could have been a soap opera star. And he was still so close that he could probably feel her heart beating.

Collette had said that Troy’s other sons were estranged from their father. But then Dylan must have called them when he left for the hospital. Maybe his having a heart attack had gotten through to at least one of Troy’s other sons.

“If you talked to Dylan, he must have told you I was here,” she said, still trying to make sense of this.

“He mentioned a friend had found Dad. He didn’t say you were staying here. In fact, he made a point of telling me the house would be empty and the spare key was under the flowerpot next to the door. So what are you doing here?”.

“If you’ll release me, I’ll explain.” She wouldn’t, of course, but she’d tell him all he needed to know.

“Deal. As soon as you let go of the knife.”.

She exhaled sharply and released her killer grasp on it. Before he moved away, his right hand slid slowly down her left arm. Awareness vibrated through her.

“Mommy! Mommy!” She made a quick return to the harsh reality of the situation, as Joey’s high-pitched calls echoed down the hallway.

“My son,” she said. “He has nightmares.”.

Sean cocked his head to the side and arched his brows. “Your son. A husband? A daughter? Exactly how many people are in this house?”.

“Just my son, Joey, and me. I don’t have a husband and Joey’s an only child.”.

She was babbling in her relief. Whatever complications Sean presented would be minuscule compared to what she’d have faced had it been Orson instead of Troy’s son who’d showed up tonight.

“Momma!” The cry had become more hysterical.

“I’m coming, sweetie.”.

She hurried away without further explanation, grateful to break away from Sean Ledger and get her emotions back under control.

In the two years since Brock’s death she hadn’t once felt the pangs of attraction for another man. She’d begun to worry that she never would. Now was not the time for fate to turn up the heat.

SEAN WATCHED EVE WORTHINGTON hurry down the hall and disappear into what had once been his bedroom. She was the last thing he’d expected to find when he pushed through the heavy door of his childhood home.

Before encountering her, his head had been swimming in a thick fog of memories. The good, the bad and the tragic had immersed him so deeply into the past that his feet had felt like lead when he climbed the steps to the porch.

Nothing like a woman about to plunge a knife into your back to smack you back into the present. But what in the hell was a woman and kid doing here?.

Dylan had written several times about their father and the fact that he was settling into the life of a rancher. Not once had he mentioned that Troy had a lady friend—one young enough to be his daughter. If he had, Sean would have never come home again.

He’d been only thirteen years old when his mother was murdered in this very house. His world had been destroyed that day. Then, when his father had been accused of the crime, Sean literally wanted to die.

When his brothers were asleep that night, he’d taken one of his dad’s guns and actually placed the barrel of it into his mouth. He might have pulled the trigger if his imagination hadn’t played ghostly tricks on his mind, probably an easy feat, considering his shaky emotional state.

He saw his mother that night as clearly as he saw the weapon in his hands. She’d stepped into the room and taken the gun from his shaky hands. It had fallen to the floor without a sound. He’d tried to hold on to his mother, but she dissolved like a warm breath on a frosty morning.

He never told anyone about that, had tried to block it from his own mind. But there had been many nights when those memories were so vivid that he could feel the chill of the evaporating vapor and taste the cold metallic bitterness of the gun barrel.

He shouldn’t have come back here. Returning to Willow Creek Ranch had worked for Dylan, but there was no way Sean would ever mend fences with his father or become totally convinced of his innocence.

He’d visit his father in the hospital in the morning, but then he’d be on his way. In fact, he should probably apologize to Eve Worthington for barging in on her and leave right now, before he looked into those gorgeous, haunted eyes of hers again.

He started down the hall after Eve, hating the memories that the house awakened. He stopped near the doorway where she’d disappeared. Her voice was soft and reassuring when she talked to her child, yet there was a shudder of fear in its depths, likely the same fear that had initiated her waiting at the door with a knife.

She’d thought he was someone else, obviously someone she was deathly afraid of. A stalker? An ex-husband? A betrayed lover?.

None of his business and not his problem. He was running from woman trouble, not looking for it.

He stopped, just out of sight of Eve and her complaining son.

“I wanna go home.”.

“It’s too far to drive back to Dallas tonight. Besides, you don’t want to miss the fun of seeing the horses, do you?”.

“What if I don’t like horses?”.

If she was from Dallas, then why hadn’t Dylan realized she was spending the night? Perhaps he’d just forgotten with all that was going on with Troy. Still, it was odd he hadn’t remembered it when he told him to make himself at home. Sean turned and walked back to the kitchen.

He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. He’d barely swallowed his first swig when his cell phone rang. It was Dylan. Sean didn’t bother with a hello. “What the hell have you gotten me into in now? “.

“I take it that means you’ve arrived at the ranch and met Eve Worthington.”.

“I met her all right. She threw me a welcoming party, only instead of balloons, she was wielding a knife.”.

There was a short pause in the phone conversation in which Sean overheard a muttered thanks from Dylan.

“Sorry, bro,” Dylan said. “One of the nurses just brought me a cup of coffee. What’s this about a knife?”.

“Dad’s houseguest took me for an intruder and came at me with a kitchen knife. I had to take it away from her.”.

“Still fighting off the women.”.

“You’re smiling, aren’t you?”

“Maybe just a little. Why’d she have a knife?”.

“She thought I was someone else.”.

“Probably believes all that bunk about the house being haunted.”.

“Our house is haunted?”.

“So some of the locals say. Anyway, I’m sure Eve’s fear was no match for your Ledger brawn and charm. Apologize to her for the confusion.”.

“As soon as you explain why you failed to warn me the house was occupied.”.

“I just found out myself. I called Collette to tell her you were in town, and she said she’d persuaded Eve to spend the night. That’s why I’m calling, hoping to give you fair warning. Collette is calling Eve, probably has her on the phone now.”.

“A little after the fact.”.

“You know, you have to take some of the blame,” Dylan said. “You could have called and said you were coming before you reached Mustang Run. Then we could have avoided the surprise element.”.

“I wasn’t sure I’d actually go through with the visit, until I saw the city limits sign.”.

Even after he’d made the call to Dylan, he still might have turned around and driven the other way if Dylan hadn’t told him about Troy’s coronary attack.

“Why are you still at the hospital?” Sean asked. “You said you were leaving for the night the last time we talked. Troy’s not having any new problems, is he?”.

“No. Dad’s resting now. The cardiologist on staff stopped by the room. He says the prognosis is good for a complete recovery, though nothing is guaranteed. I’m heading that way now. Do you need anything?”.

“A few answers. What’s the deal between Dad and Eve?”.

“Hard to say. The situation being what it is, I haven’t had a chance to get the full story from either of them. Apparently, they became friends when she was his prison psychiatrist a few years back. She said she was just passing through tonight and decided to stop in and see him. Just in time to save his life, I might add.”.

“Then they’re not a romantic item?”.

“Man, Sean. Where did you get an idea like that? She’s our age. She has a kid, probably a husband as well.”.

“There is no husband. And what did you expect me to think? I show up, and she’s here in her pajamas.”.

“In her pajamas, huh? That must have spiced up the knife removal routine.”.

“I was defending, not groping.”.

“Whatever. But don’t read any more into this than is actually there. Eve said she was passing through. No reason not to believe her.”.

“Then she didn’t mention that she was in any kind of trouble?”.

“No, but now that you mention it, Dad seemed anxious about not getting to talk to her.”.

“Did he say why?”.

“No. He’s been pretty much incoherent all night, first from the coronary trauma and then from the meds.”.

“Okay. We’ll talk more when I see you.”.

“I’m dead tired. Do you mind if we put off our reunion until morning? Collette and I will come down and cook you, Eve and the boy an old-time ranch breakfast.”

“Sounds like a winner. I guess I can round up some linens and a pillow around this place?”

“Take your old room. The beds are made.”

“And occupied.”

“Then avoid temptation and find another room.”

“There is no temptation involved.”

“Then just make yourself at home. And, Sean, I’m really glad you’re here. It will mean a lot to Dad.”

Sean doubted that. He said a quick goodbye.

Once he’d finished the beer, he checked the rest of the fridge’s contents. Choices weren’t bad.

He found bread in the pantry and made himself a ham and cheese sandwich, then poured a tall glass of milk to wash it down. Halfway through the meal, he heard the soft patter of footsteps in the hallway.

He looked up as Eve joined him in the kitchen. She’d pulled a pale blue robe over her pajamas. That did nothing to hide the fact that she was a damned attractive woman.

She looked around the kitchen, her gaze focusing on the sandwich fixings he’d left on the counter.

“Help yourself,” he said. “Bread’s fresh and the ham is good. There’s plenty of beer, or milk if you’re a purist.”

“I’m not opposed to cold beer, but a glass of milk sounds better tonight.”

“Something to soothe the savage beast.”

A blush flushed her cheeks. “I’m not ordinarily so savage. I’m a city girl. I guess I let the isolation get to me.”

“Looked like a little more than that to me.”.

“Look, Sean, I’m really sorry about the knife incident, but can we just forget about it now?”.

“Subject closed.” For the time being. “There’s hot chocolate mix in the pantry.”.

She nodded. “That sounds even better. Can I make a cup for you? “.

“Sure. Why not?”.

She turned back to face him, and her straight, shiny brown locks seductively bounced around the bottom of her chin. Much too seductively.

He finished off his sandwich and wiped his mouth on the paper towel he’d been using as a napkin, just as she started to the table with two steaming mugs of cocoa in hand.

“Sorry, but I didn’t find marshmallows,” she said.

“I suspect Troy is not a marshmallow kind of guy,” Sean said. “But then, you evidently know him much better than I do.”.

She stared into her cup for a moment and then lifted her eyes to meet his. Hers were the color of warm cognac, vibrant even in the fluorescent light from the overhead fixture.

“I was Troy’s prison psychiatrist for a couple of years.”.

“Dylan told me. He called while you were calming your son.”.

“Collette called me as well. She explained everything. I’m truly sorry for intruding on your homecoming.”

“Actually, I’m more the intruder. You were the invited guest.”.

“It’s your home.”.

“Was my home. When I was thirteen. I’ve hung my hat in a lot of places since then.”.

“Nonetheless, Joey and I will clear out of your way in the morning.”.

“Don’t leave on my account. It’s a big house, and I don’t plan to be here long.”.

Her shoulders squared. “You should. You owe it to your father to get to know the man he is today.”.

He bristled a bit at the preachy tone, especially when she had no idea what she was talking about. “Do you always offer your opinion to people you’ve just met?”.

“No,” she admitted. “I seldom give advice at all anymore.”.

Her shoulders and voice fell as if he’d sucker punched her. It gave him no pleasure. “It’s okay,” he said. “My dad and I have issues.”.

She merely nodded, leaving lots of questions in his mind about just what his father had told her about him and his brothers. Had Troy played her, fed her what he thought she’d like to hear in order to make an impression on her? Or had she just dug around in his mind and come up with her own conclusions?.

She finished her hot chocolate, stood and carried her empty cup to the sink. Once she rinsed it, she turned back to him. “Again, I’m sorry for the knife incident, and I wish you and Troy the best.”.

He watched her walk away, her slim hips swaying just enough to make her exit interesting. He thought again of the way her body had felt pressed against his. For a minute back there, he’d had the crazy urge to kiss her.

The urge surfaced again, and he wondered what she’d do if he followed her to the bedroom door and kissed her good-night.

Probably come at him with a knife while he slept.

He’d leave well enough alone before he became as lust-craved as Laci Cahill. With one big difference. He wasn’t married—and had no intention of ever playing the matrimony game.

EVE PULLED THE COVERS about Joey and leaned close, letting her lips brush his forehead. Asleep, innocence was etched into his youthful face. If only she could give him that simple purity of joy back again, instead of dragging him back into the ominous threat of peril.

Trepidation played havoc with her breathing as she backed away from Joey’s bed. What if that had been Orson at the door tonight? What if he’d been the man who’d pinned her to the wall with his brute strength? The truth shuddered through her.

There would have been no way she could have protected Joey.

But it hadn’t been Orson Bastion. It had been Sean Ledger, whose hard, unrelenting strength held her captive. Yet, the minute she’d realized he wasn’t dangerous, it had been attraction, not fear, she’d felt at his hands.

Eve slipped out of her robe, draped it across the one chair in the room and then dropped to the twin bed opposite Joey’s. She slid beneath the crisp sheets and pulled the quilt over her as confusing thoughts tumbled through her mind.

The dread that had chilled her before Sean’s arrival had disappeared. The rambling old house no longer made her uneasy. If anything, she felt protected. Sean made the difference.

Yet, she couldn’t start relying on him. Tomorrow might bring anything. Tonight she needed to get some sleep.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and she turned over to stare out the window and into the darkness, and the scatter of stars that studded the sky.

Her mind flashed back to Sean and a rush of heat crept inside her.

Surely not desire, she told herself. Not in this situation. If she felt anything at all for Sean, the attraction stemmed from pure relief that he wasn’t Orson Bastion.

If he had been, she’d be dead.

But Orson was still on the loose.

SOMEONE WAS IN THE HOUSE. Eve could hear him breathing, smell the odors of sweat and cheap aftershave, see his shadow coming nearer.

She clutched the knife and felt the sear of pain and hot, sticky blood gushing into her hand. When she looked down she saw that the handle was missing and the blade had sliced into her palm.

Her brain began to clatter. Eve jerked awake and sat up in bed. The clattering wasn’t in her brain, but was coming from the bedside table where her cell phone was vibrating against the old wood.

She glanced at the clock as she grabbed the phone to quiet it before it woke Joey. Five minutes before six in the morning was extremely early for a call from either Gordon or Collette, and they were the only two who had her number.

The vibration in the palm of her hand mirrored the state of her nerves as she whispered hello.

“It’s Gordon. Is this Eve?”.

“Yes.” The urgency in his voice told her this was not a good-news call.

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