THREAT OF EXPOSURE

Framed for a sabotaged military operation, Preston Tyler has allowed everyone to believe he’s dead—until he witnesses someone planting a bomb in his childhood sweetheart’s cabin. To save Holly Fontaine’s life, he must blow his cover. Holly is shaken...both by the explosion and the sudden appearance of a man she thought she’d lost forever. But their reunion is short-lived when the bomb planter returns, forcing their escape into Lake Tahoe’s wilderness. As they struggle to survive, memories of their shared past reignite old feelings. Holly refuses to lose Preston again, but with their pursuer closing in, will the ultimate betrayal tear them apart for good?

“Are those bullets? Are we being shot at?”

“Yes.” Preston slammed the door to the smaller room and barricaded it with a chair under the knob. “Get online and contact the police. I’m going to keep the shooter away from you.”

Holly logged into the internet from a kneeling position.

“9-1-1. What is your emergency?” The voice echoed over computer speakers.

“We are being shot at.”

We? Did she just say “we”? Preston craned his neck around to send her a warning look.

Holly covered her mouth, eyes wide.

“Have you been shot?” the voice asked.

“No. No. The door is locked. I’m inside the computer room at Cedar Glen Lodge.”

“Police are on their way. Has anyone else been shot?”

Preston splayed his hands as if getting arrested. Unless Holly did some quick damage control, he’d soon be in handcuffs.

Or he’d be dead.

The door vibrated as a body slammed into the other side.

Dear Reader,

I had so much fun researching this story. SOAR and the CID are real. The locations on Lake Tahoe are real—including the secret tunnel. And even the flaws in the characters are real. But I didn’t have to research those.

See, I’m like Holly in the way that I lost a relationship that I thought would last forever, and I was terrified of being alone. It would have been very easy for me to make the same mistake Holly made in committing to the wrong person. So often, as women, we want the romance. We want to feel desired. And so we compromise our relationship with Christ to have a relationship we tell ourselves God wants for us because it will make us happy. But, as Holly found out, true happiness didn’t come from being loved. It came from loving—even when the man she loved made it very clear there was no future for them together.

Preston was that man. He was the exact opposite of Holly. He’d lost so many people he loved that he didn’t ever want to love again. And he figured God felt the same way toward him. He believed he was doing the right thing by pushing Holly away, and it took almost losing her to realize love was worth fighting for. This is similar to where my husband was at when I met him. Jim was planning to move to Alaska and write off women for good. But God had better plans. Just like God always does.

The Bible says two are better than one. This doesn’t have to mean romantic relationships. It means we are created for community. We are created to learn and grow together with Him.

In the end, Holly and Preston learned this lesson from each other. The same way I got to learn this lesson along with my real-life hero. Jim is the reason I’m able to write about romance again. Love changes lives, which changes the world. And there’s nothing else I’d rather write about.

This is my first book with Love Inspired Suspense, and I’m thrilled you chose to read it. It hasn’t been easy, but just like Holly and Preston became stronger when working together, I am a better writer because of working with my editor. I hope I keep getting better, and I hope you’ll join me on the journey. Please stop by for a visit at www.angelaruthstrong.com, and always feel free to share your story with me at: angelaruthstrong@gmail.com.

Love always,

Angela

ANGELA RUTH STRONG sold her first article to a national magazine while still in high school and went on to study journalism at the University of Oregon. Her debut novel came out in 2010, and she’s won both the Idaho Top Author and Cascade Awards for her work. She lives with her hubby and three teenagers in Idaho, where she also started IDAhope Writers to encourage other aspiring authors.

Presumed Dead

Angela Ruth Strong

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.

—John 10:10

Dedicated to Johnathan, Ashley and Kristina—your creativity inspires me.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Preston Tyler lowered his feet from the deck railing and leaned forward as his gaze followed the Jeep pulling up next to the Fontaines’ cabin across the lake. Though he’d been forced to hide out in his own family cabin for four years since being pronounced “dead” by the military, nobody had stayed at his childhood sweetheart’s cabin at all.

Of course, he’d heard Holly had just canceled her wedding to Caleb Brooks. Maybe she needed a place to heal.

Preston should have considered the possibility and gone camping at Yosemite or headed to San Francisco to catch a Giants game. Honestly, a vacation in the Tenderloin District would have been better than seeing the woman he’d once loved mourn the loss of another man.

So, he wouldn’t look. Preston inhaled deeply as he stood. Well, maybe he’d take one peek to see if it was even her. And if it was, he’d head inside until she left.

A lanky male frame climbed out of the driver’s seat of the Jeep. Holly’s dad? Brother?

Preston ignored the traitorous twinge of disappointment. It was better this way. Unless her family was getting the cabin ready for her arrival...

He squinted against the blinding sun for a better look at the figure pulling luggage out of the rear gate on the navy blue Jeep Cherokee. Only one duffel bag, but the man left the back gate of the Jeep open as he focused on carrying it to the house.

A warning alarm rang in Preston’s head. He grabbed the binoculars he usually used when scouting for fish.

The dark man with a goatee retrieved a key from the top of the doorframe and looked around before cracking the door open. Not right. He wasn’t a Fontaine.

Preston tracked the man’s movement through the windows. There. In the bedroom. The stranger unzipped the duffel, looked at his watch and pressed a few buttons on a device that resembled an alarm clock.

Preston’s guts churned. He’d seen bombs before, but only in the military, never in a vacation home. Why would anybody want to blow up an old cabin? Should he call the police with an anonymous tip? Or was he imagining things?

The man ran back through the house, replaced the key, slammed the rear gate of his Jeep and jumped into the driver’s seat. Not good.

Preston ran a hand through his hair. He shouldn’t have been involved at all. But just because he was supposed to be dead didn’t mean he didn’t care about Holly’s family anymore. It meant he had to be discreet.

He lifted the binoculars again to get the license plate number of the SUV. Another vehicle crossed its path, blocking the license plate from view. Another vehicle? Headed toward the cabin? Preston raised the binoculars higher to get a look at the driver.

Holly.

She didn’t turn or respond as the other car passed. She must not have known the man or been expecting a package. Could the stranger have set a bomb for her?

Preston’s mind whirled with possible scenarios. Some ridiculous. Some disastrous. But the worst scenario would be the one where he stood by and watched while someone else got hurt. He’d made that mistake before.

No matter how badly he wanted to shake the dread that gripped his heart, he couldn’t deny the fact Holly’s life might be in danger. He’d have to jump onto his parents’ old Jet Ski and race what he suspected was a bomb. Keeping his life a secret wasn’t worth risking hers.

Preston dropped the binoculars and grabbed his keys. Adrenaline surged.

Maybe she wouldn’t recognize him after four years. Maybe she wouldn’t believe it was even him. Or maybe she’d be too traumatized by the coming explosion to get a good look at his face.

If he reached the cabin in time to save her.

* * *

Holly Fontaine kicked her shoes off and padded barefoot down the warm, smooth dock. As a child, she’d always dived right into the lake, but as a woman—specifically, a woman scorned—she had other plans.

She pulled the sparkling engagement ring from her pocket. What had she been thinking, accepting the gaudy thing in the first place? It wasn’t even her style. Caleb had insisted he’d paid a fortune for it and she deserved it. She’d made the mistake of listening to all her friends, who were so easily charmed by his expensive taste in jewelry, perfect smile and quick wink. They’d told her she wouldn’t ever heal from a past heartbreak if she didn’t move on. Now she had a second scar. Only this one wasn’t in her heart. It was from the knife in her back.

At least she’d come to a good place to heal. Though coming alone felt more like punishment than anything else. But how else was she going to learn to reconnect with God? He was the One she should have asked about Caleb in the first place rather than just assuming she was being given a second chance at love.

“You’re enough for me, Lord,” she said aloud. But did she believe it?

The smooth metal circle pinched between thumb and forefinger had offered promise. The promise of strong arms to hold her, as well as the promise of babies she could hold in her arms. A family. A place to belong. Now she was alone again.

She looked past the glittering diamond to the reflection of the sun off the water. Lake Tahoe brought back so many memories. Cliff diving. Capture the flag on Fannette Island. Fishing from Preston’s canoe.

Holly ran a hand through her new pixie haircut and sighed. Reminiscence was supposed to get her thoughts off the current pain, but instead it intensified the ache. Why was it that the good guys like Preston Tyler died serving their country while jerks like Caleb Brooks got to live it up?

She was done thinking about Caleb. She had to move on with her life. Again. And that meant getting rid of the ring.

Caleb had said he didn’t want it back, and she certainly didn’t want anything to do with it. Maybe in the future it would wash up onshore and become someone else’s symbol of commitment. Until then, it was her reminder of rejection.

Taking a deep breath of fresh mountain air, Holly cocked her arm and hurled the offensive piece of jewelry as far away as she could. It disappeared in the distance, and she didn’t even get the satisfaction of hearing it plink into the water over the roar of a Jet Ski.

Oh well. She’d done what she should have a long time ago. It was better to be alone than to be with someone who didn’t really love her. Even if it didn’t feel better.

The dock rocked beneath her feet from the WaveRunner heading her direction. Time to get back to solid ground. Though she couldn’t help being a little envious of the driver on the watercraft. So carefree. Able to enjoy the beauty of nature without worry. Escaping the pressures of reality.

She cast a longing gaze toward the person serving as a reminder of the kind of life she used to live. Another sad memory. Except...

She narrowed her eyes. Tilted her head.

Her crazy state of mind played tricks on her emotions. As if the memories weren’t bad enough. But she couldn’t look away. Couldn’t stop studying the man who reminded her a bit of someone from her past. Take off those honey-colored sideburns and the stubble... Shrink the muscles a bit... Erase the frown lines in his forehead...

She had to stop staring. Because now the man was staring straight back. Intensity flashed in his familiar blue eyes. His lips parted. He called her name.

He called her name?

Holly shook her head. She had to be imagining things.

She willed the watercraft to rocket past. To prove her hallucination wrong. To leave her alone with her irrational daydream.

The Jet Ski slowed, sputtered, splashed cold water over her toes. The man on it extended his hand.

The last time this had happened, she’d been twenty-four. Headed back to law school for one more year while a younger version of the man in front of her prepared for his fateful promotion as a helicopter pilot in SOAR—Special Operations Aviation Regiment.

“No.” This wasn’t Preston. It couldn’t be. Preston was dead.

“Get on, Holly. Now.” The voice tugged at the strings she’d used to sew her heart back together when Preston’s charred remains came home in a coffin.

She had to be dreaming. She pinched her leg to wake herself up.

Ouch. Her thigh stung where she’d squeezed.

The man wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled her toward the Jet Ski. “This is real.”

Real what? A real kidnapping?

“Who are you?” Her voice rose in panic.

She couldn’t just climb on behind a stranger. If he didn’t look so much like Preston, she would have pushed him off the watercraft by now.

“It’s me, Holly.”

Her mind whirled, almost pulling her head back with the weight of her thoughts. Preston was alive. He was on Lake Tahoe in front of her.

She covered her mouth with her free hand. This was impossible. Unless the corpse in the coffin had belonged to someone else and Preston had recently been released from some kind of POW camp.

She scanned his body, looking for injuries. If she climbed onto the Jet Ski too fast, would she hurt him? This was so unbelievable.

He tugged her arm. “Hurry, doll.”

Her heart reeled at the old nickname. This was Preston all right. In a daze, she slid behind him and clutched both arms around his middle. He was more solid than she remembered. At least he hadn’t been malnourished.

He gunned the engine. The Jet Ski tipped backward as it took off. Just like old times—

Except for the loud blast that erupted behind her. Hot air warmed her skin. Pushed against her. She craned her neck around to see fire shoot into the sky from her family cabin.

Her throat went dry. She clutched Preston tighter. If he hadn’t just picked her up, she would be dead. But why? And how had he known?

* * *

Preston exhaled. He’d picked her up just in time. Though the sooner he dropped her off, the better.

He hadn’t wanted to be right about the time bomb, but at least she was safe. He’d just have to make sure she was out of harm’s way before handing her over to police. Because she had a life to rebuild, and he couldn’t be part of it.

He slowed at his parents’ old, weathered dock. He wouldn’t have brought her here if they had been safe staying out in the open. But apparently someone wanted to kill her.

Her trembling fingers slid from around his waist to his sides as she twisted to look behind them. Her fingernails bit through his T-shirt. “What? What happened? What’s going on? I...I don’t understand.” She looked at his cabin then at him, her eyes still too glazed to be afraid. “Why are we here?”

Preston viewed the dilapidated A-frame from her perspective. How would she react when she found out he’d been living there the whole time she thought he’d been dead? How much should he tell her? Had he just saved her life, or had he put her in even more danger?

She blinked. “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t know what to do. What do I do?”

Since someone was after her, he’d get her out of the open. Later, he’d worry more about finding the criminal. “Let’s go in.”

She climbed onto the dock, causing it to sink halfway underwater.

He eyed her ten pink toenails. So feminine. So sweet. So off-limits. He forced himself to focus on hooking the towrope to the dock.

“I can’t believe it’s really you.”

She gripped his biceps when he stood, and maybe she just saw him as her old friend whose shoulders she used to sit on when playing chicken in the lake, but her proximity wasn’t as comfortable as it used to be. In fact, it was almost painful. It should be avoided because she wasn’t even supposed to see him, let alone touch him. He stepped around her.

She turned, her arms flailing now that she wasn’t hanging on to him like an anchor. “My cabin exploded. I could have been dead like you’re supposed to be.” She covered her mouth with her hands. “I can’t believe I said that.”

“It’s okay.” Though, was it? How was she going to explain surviving the explosion without revealing his existence? Was she even capable of keeping secrets?

She stepped forward. He stepped back.

“I didn’t want to believe you died, but we had a funeral for you. They played taps and gave your parents a flag.”

Preston looked away. He already knew about his funeral. He’d been there in the distance, watching, as his family mourned their loss.

Soon he would have to disappear again. No use giving Holly more to mourn. He’d put distance between them and a perimeter of defense around his heart. He wouldn’t think about the first time he’d kissed her, at the age of sixteen under this very dock during a game of hide-and-seek. Or about how she smelled of coconut, the same way she had as a teen. He held his breath and stepped away, toward the cabin.

He had to concentrate on the danger of their situation. He’d trained for that. He looked back at the fireball that had once been her family cabin to make sure nobody had followed them across the lake.

She grabbed his hand.

Even though they’d grown up holding hands, his pulse reacted violently as an adult. The whole fight-or-flight syndrome. He’d be better off if he chose flight rather than to fight for a relationship that could never last. Dead men didn’t date.

He led her along the uneven planks, up onto the deck and through the sliding glass door. His parents hadn’t used the place since his “passing” either. Apparently both families had too many memories at the lake for them to be able to enjoy vacations there without him.

“How did you escape? Can I be there when you tell your parents you’re alive?”

Uh...no. He took another step away and held up his hands so she couldn’t follow.

She scanned him up and down. “Are you hurt? Were you held hostage? Who is after you?”

He lifted his eyebrows. She thought he was the target of the bomb? This was going to be worse than he’d expected.

“Holly.” What a softer man he would be if he’d spent the last four years with her. Unfortunately, his current circumstances didn’t allow for softness. “The bomb was meant for you.”

Her spine shot straight. Her eyes snapped wide. She stumbled backward.

He stepped forward to stabilize her before she lost her balance.

She scampered away. “If the bomb was for me, how did you know about it?”

He held his ground. Tilted his head toward the deck. “I saw it being delivered.”

Her gaze ricocheted back and forth between his eyes. “How? Why are you here? Why does nobody know you’re alive?”

He pressed his lips together. The truth was going to hurt. Just not as bad as the explosion would have. “I’ve been in the US for the past four years. I wasn’t in the helicopter crash. I’d seen someone tampering with the engines and went to ask my sergeant to delay the op, but before he could halt takeoff, my team headed out. They didn’t make it far before crashing into a fuel tanker. Someone else’s body came home in my coffin.”

She rocked onto her heels, gripping the back of the couch for balance. “You’ve been pretending to be dead?”

Was that all she’d heard? “Yes, because—”

“I am so tired of hearing men’s excuses.” Her hand covered her heart. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I thought you were different, Preston. You used to be.”

He held out his hands and blinked. What just happened? “You’d rather I be dead?”

“No.” She took a couple deep breaths. Her eyes grew shiny, like she was about to cry—to mourn his death a second time. “I’d rather you tell the truth.”

This was what he got for saving her life? A guilt trip? Of course, Holly didn’t know he already had enough guilt to keep him from being able to return home. Probably forever.

But as for telling the truth, Preston had tried, and his sergeant had been killed because of it. SOAR Commander Robert Long had found Sergeant Beatty’s body hanging in his bunk the morning after Beatty told Preston he’d look into possible sabotage. The death had been ruled a suicide.

Letting another person die because they knew the truth wasn’t a risk Preston was willing to take, which was why Holly could never tell anyone about him, either.

“Holly, the CID—Criminal Investigation Division for the military—hid the sabotage from the American people. They aren’t going to let me come back to life and point fingers unless I know exactly who I’m pointing at, and I don’t yet. So that means either the military will throw me in prison, or the person responsible for this will kill me. I have to stay dead for now.”

He wasn’t the bad guy here.

She shook her head. Shook it harder. “No. There has to be another way.”

He used to think the same thing until it ate him up inside. “There’s not.”

But what-ifs still teased sometimes. What if Holly let the crime scene investigators back at the cabin presume her dead, and she started a new life with him off the grid? Or what if she helped him assume a new identity? Or what if he stayed in the cabin and she visited occasionally? Then he wouldn’t be so alone anymore.

But none of those would be the best thing for her. He was there for her and not himself.

She planted her hands on her hips. “Am I just supposed to forget the way you popped back into my life today? Am I supposed to keep this a secret from your family, too? You know your little sister married my brother, right?”

“Holly.” He couldn’t help reaching for her.

She knocked his hand down. “That was supposed to be us. Don’t you care?”

He folded his arms. He wouldn’t tell her how he’d been glad at first when his old buddy Caleb looked out for her after his “death.” Or how he’d broken a couple knuckles punching a tree when she’d finally said yes to the man’s proposal. Or that he’d bought her an engagement ring before he left, and it sat in the loft above them collecting dust.

“I’m here because I care. I’m sure it would be easier for you if you didn’t know I was alive, but I saw someone plant a bomb in your cabin, and I had to save you.”

She glanced out the window. “Why would someone want to kill me?”

The question should rock him as well, but having played dead for the past few years, he’d found out more about murder than he’d ever wanted to know. “It could be a recently released prisoner whose case you lost. It could be a current criminal whose guilt you are about to expose in court. It could be a jealous coworker.” Preston sighed. “Have you received any threats? Do you have any enemies?”

Her eyes rolled up to look at the ceiling as she thought, and Preston had a pretty good idea of who she was thinking about. Finding her fiancé with the other woman had been an accident. Preston had simply planned to drop off a Bible and couple’s devotional at Caleb’s house as an anonymous wedding gift—a symbol to himself of wishing the best for Holly’s marriage. But instead he’d stumbled upon the fact Caleb was cheating. No way could he let Holly unknowingly form an alliance with a traitor, so he’d snapped a couple photos with his phone and stuck them in her mailbox. Of course, being a philanderer didn’t mean the man was capable of murder...

“No. I don’t think so.” She looked to him, fear etched like stone in the gray depths of her gaze. “What do I do?”

Well, she couldn’t die. He wouldn’t let her. His family had already lost too much. She’d already lost too much. “I’m going to have to go back into hiding, Holly. But I’m here for you until I figure out who planted that bomb. You’re going to be safe.”

She stepped toward him. Probably wanting a hug for support, now that she was momentarily in the acceptance phase of shock. Whether it lasted or not, he couldn’t be there for her like that. They would have to sever their connection soon, and it would be better if there was less to sever.

He grasped her hands to hold her at arm’s distance. “You can trust me, but we can’t be friends. I’ll be leaving again, so I can’t get close to you.”

Footsteps thudded outside the front door. The doorknob rattled.

Preston didn’t have any more time to worry about staying aloof. If he was going to consider himself a bodyguard, then he’d have to protect her. He wrapped one arm around her waist and dived behind the couch as the windowpane next to the door shattered.

TWO

Holly’s muscles throbbed against the hardwood floor as the lock on the door clicked and the hinges squeaked. Someone was breaking into Preston’s cabin. She held her breath, igniting fire in her lungs.

Footsteps thudded toward them, then stopped in the middle of the room.

She swallowed and looked at Preston to gauge his reaction. His blank expression hid all emotion, but his lack of fear gave her confidence. Did he have a gun? A knife? Experience in hand-to-hand combat? She’d thought she’d known him so well, yet this side of him was completely foreign to her.

He focused past her, looking underneath the couch. She turned her head to see what he saw.

Familiar tan leather boots. But probably just familiar because everybody wore outdoorsy boots in Tahoe. The kind of boots that would have no problem chasing her if she ran for the water or the woods. She’d head for the water. Being barefoot, she couldn’t outrun the intruder. She’d have to outswim him.

The boots turned in a circle, as if the man were studying the small cabin. They tromped into the bathroom, then disappeared as he climbed up the ladder to check out the loft.

Had he gone all the way into the loft? Would she and Preston be able to sneak out without him seeing? She lifted her chin to visually measure the distance between her feet and the sliding glass door. If she could turn herself around, she might be able to slide the door open without making a sound.

But what if the rusty doorframe didn’t cooperate? Or the intruder wasn’t all the way up the ladder and he saw the door move? That was where Preston’s military training would have to come in. Though if he had the survival skills she imagined he had, he should be the one planning their escape. She didn’t know what she was doing.

She sent him a look of panic.

His fingers found hers. Gently squeezed. As if that was supposed to be comforting.

Did he know who had broken in? Did he know why? He’d said he had enemies of his own. Was this guy after him or her?

Help, Lord.

A phone jingled.

She jolted at the sound, clutching Preston’s hand like a stress ball. Okay, now she was glad he’d made the connection.

Where was the noise coming from? Maybe she should let him go to silence the cell phone in case it was about to give away their hiding place. If it did, he’d definitely need his hand free so he could leap up and pop the bad guy in the jaw.

She uncurled her fingers and retracted her arm to give him room to fight.

The phone jingled again, the sound growing louder. But at least it was on the other side of the couch.

Preston shook his head. Not his phone?

“Yeah?” A gruff voice demanded.

Holly froze. Who answered their phone in the middle of breaking and entering? And had she heard that voice before?

“The woman got away on a Jet Ski.”

Holly bit her lip to keep from gasping. This had to be the bomber. And he was talking about her. Had someone hired him to kill her? Someone like her ex’s new girlfriend?

“Yeah, I’m sure. A guy just showed up at her dock and took her to another cabin. I had to drive to get here, and it looks like they’ve already left. No car in the driveway.”

She searched for Preston’s eyes. He’d just gone from being dead to being “a guy.” This could mean trouble for both of them. But at least the bomber didn’t know they were still in the room.

Preston squinted toward the direction of the phone conversation as if it took all his concentration to make out the words.

“I’m inside the cabin.”

Pause.

“I broke in through a window.”

In place of the silence, a muted but angry voice yelled something in return. Could Preston tell if it was a man or woman on the phone? Because she couldn’t.

“Well, since I’m already here, I’ll just plant another bomb.”

Another bomb? Preston’s cabin was going to be destroyed the way hers had been? All out of a jealous rage?

Her fingernails bit into the flesh of her palm. Maybe Preston wouldn’t have to fight the bomber after all. She was angry enough to take him.

More jumbled yelling.

“I won’t use a time bomb again.”

What other kinds of bombs were there? Holly had seen electronic detonators in movies. Or there were car bombs that ignited when the key was turned. Then there were the terrorists who strapped bombs to themselves. But it was ridiculous for Caleb’s new girlfriend to send someone after her with a bomb. She was the only person Holly could think of who would be after her. Preston had mentioned a few other reasons someone might want her dead, but they all seemed so abstract.

Her skin grew slick with a cold sweat. She shivered.

“No more bombs? Fine.”

Holly closed her eyes. Thank You, Jesus.

“Yes. I can do that. I’m on my way.”

Holly watched the tan boots pivot toward the door. Her skin itched in anticipation of the man’s departure. Was he moving in slow motion, or did it just feel like it?

Finally his feet stomped out onto the front step. The door snapped shut behind him.

She could breathe again. Her muscles melted toward the floor like snow tracked into the cabin in winter.

* * *

Preston’s muscles sprang into action. He leaped from behind the couch and raced toward the shattered window. He needed to know for sure if the intruder was the same perp he’d seen at Holly’s house.

A dark, lanky man climbed behind the wheel of a Jeep Cherokee. Same guy. What had Holly gotten herself into?

The engine revved. The SUV pulled away.

Preston grabbed a pen and scribbled down what he could catch of the license plate number before the vehicle disappeared into the trees. Because there was no way he was going to keep playing hide-and-seek with Holly. The Jeep’s driver needed to be locked behind bars. That was the only way to keep Holly safe. Preston could find somewhere else to hide out if needed.

“Did you know him?” he asked Holly. She hadn’t seemed to recognize the man when she’d passed him on the road earlier, but that was a completely different situation from being in the same room with him and overhearing a conversation about killing her.

“I...I don’t think so.” Her feet flopped out to the sides behind the couch. Apparently she wasn’t planning to get up anytime soon. But they couldn’t stay here.

He leaned over the back of the couch. “We’ve got to get you back to your cabin before the police think you died in the explosion. They’ll find your car there and believe you were inside.”

She sat up, eyes hard. “Why does it matter?” she challenged him. “You are letting everyone think you died.”

He’d saved her life, and she wanted to argue? Of course, after finding out her fiancé cheated, her summer cabin blowing up and someone wanting her dead, it might be easier for her to focus on his problems rather than her own. Not that his were any easier to fix. But she obviously wouldn’t understand unless she tried it out for herself. “You want to play dead, too?” he offered.

“No.” She ignored his extended hand and grabbed on to the back of the couch to pull herself up. “I want you to stop playing dead so we can go talk to the police together.”

“Let me know when you uncover the real saboteur, and I will be happy to go to police with you.” She seemed to think he could reveal himself without causing any more death. In the best-case scenario of turning himself in, a lawyer much like her would pin sabotage on him and he would live the rest of his life in prison with no chance of ever finding the evidence needed to arrest the real criminals.

Since she didn’t need his help, he climbed the ladder into the loft to pack all the personal belongings he could fit into a drawstring bag.

“Okay,” she said.

Okay what? He scanned the gathered items. It was a shame he didn’t have time to haul it all down to the old pickup on the property at the end of the street. Hank, the older man who lived there, had started a new helicopter tour business and let Preston use his Chevy LUV in exchange for mechanic work. Unfortunately, the vehicle would probably have to be Preston’s new home for a while.

“Okay, I’ll find your saboteur.”

Preston looked in her direction, but then had to step to the top of the ladder so Holly could feel the full intensity of his stare. “I was joking.”

“I’m not.” She stared right back.

Her determination was cute, but surely it would dissipate when she got back to the mess that was her own life. He scaled down the ladder rungs to lead her toward the sliding glass door so she could return to reality.

“One killer after you isn’t enough?”

She stopped in front of him and lifted her chin. “All criminals deserve to be in jail. And it’s my job to put them there.”

It would be hard to do her job from the grave. Besides... “You’re a defense attorney.”

“Exactly. I’ll defend you in court so the authorities can go after the real bad guys.” She narrowed her eyes at his amusement. “You tell the world what you just told me, and I’ll make sure they believe it.”

He sighed. She had no idea how many times he’d considered such an option. But what would keep the same person who’d staged Sergeant Beatty’s suicide from killing her? Or what if she lost the case and felt guilty that he had to spend the rest of his life in prison? He would never do that to her.

At least this way, everyone believed he’d died a hero. It was better for his family. And for Holly.

“I wish it were that easy,” he said. Especially now that Holly knew he was alive and stood so close and cared so much.

She huffed and preceded him out the door. Nix on the “stood so close” part. And quite possibly the “cared so much” part.

He squeezed his fingers into fists. Too bad he didn’t know the identity of the person who belonged at the end of his cross and uppercut. He’d settle for either the person who’d sabotaged his operation or the bomber who’d broken into his cabin. Or even Caleb. The man was an idiot for not protecting Holly the way he should have.

How many times would Preston have to give vengeance over to God? Always once more?

This is getting worse, Lord. He’d point out the obvious. Make sure God knew he still needed help. Help me stay strong because I’m feeling pretty weak right now.

His weak spot waited on the Jet Ski.

He shouldn’t have even let her go out there alone. He needed to get her to the police as quickly as possible. She’d be safer with them than she was with him. He’d be safer, too.

He avoided looking at Holly directly as he joined her on the watercraft. And she held on to seat handles to avoid touching him as they made their way back across the lake. Or maybe she held on to the handles because he had the drawstring bag on his back.

Either way, God was giving him the help he’d needed. But it felt hollow somehow. Empty. Lonely. Though he should be used to that.

He cut the engine a few cabins down to stay out of sight of the emergency workers swarming the smoke-scented rubble. Turning halfway around, he spoke over his shoulder. “You’re not going to tell police about me, are you?”

She bit her lip. “I will investigate the SOAR sabotage, but as that’s not connected to this bombing, there’s no reason for me to mention your existence to police today.”

That would have to do for the moment. “Fair enough.”

She lifted her eyes to his. “Where are you going from here? Don’t you know anyone in the military who could help clear your name?”

Preston met her gaze. “I do have an old friend who used to be a JAG attorney.”

Holly looked away. She wouldn’t know he was already aware of her broken engagement, and she obviously didn’t want to tell him about it. “I’ve got my bathing suit on underneath my jeans. I’ll swim back to the cabin, and I’m sure investigators will never imagine I’ve been riding around on a Jet Ski with you.”

“Thank you.” He exhaled in relief. She may not be happy with the situation, but hey, neither was he. “Hopefully, they can figure out who set the bomb, and you won’t need me anymore.”

She searched his eyes before twisting away to pull her sweatshirt over her head.

“Tell the detective you passed a navy blue Jeep Cherokee with California plates as you pulled in. I didn’t get the full plate number, but it starts with a 5AO.”

“5AO,” she repeated dutifully.

This wasn’t how he’d imagined a reunion with her. But it wasn’t really a reunion. He was only there to keep her safe. He focused on the scene she’d be heading back to. Fire engines sprayed water onto smoldering log remains. Police questioned neighbors. An array of boats slowed so passengers could rubberneck. A silver Jaguar pulled down the drive.

Preston’s stomach warmed. His gaze swiveled toward Holly to see if she’d noticed the vehicle.

She scanned the beach as if in a daze, and he knew the moment her gaze hit the Jag. She dropped back down onto the seat behind him, but she didn’t say anything.

If she didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t mention Caleb’s arrival, but he hadn’t forgotten the man’s presence. And there was no way he could let Holly spend time alone with her former fiancé on what should have been the weekend of their wedding. What if Caleb took her roller coaster of emotions for another ride?

“After you talk to the police, I want you to go stay at that lodge where our parents used to take us for barbecue ribs. I will come check on you.”

No response.

Preston looked over his shoulder.

Holly watched Caleb park. It hurt to think that she’d gone from trying to help Preston to focusing on the other man so quickly. Even though Preston hadn’t wanted her help in the first place. He’d wanted her to forget him so she could move on with her life. But the reality of it all stung like shrapnel.

“Holly?”

She blinked and turned to him, though her eyes remained distant.

He shouldn’t blame her. She’d had quite a day. “Where are you going after you talk to the police?”

She stared. Maybe she hadn’t heard him. Maybe she was going into shock. “Cedar Glen.”

Good. He tilted his head toward the water, indicating it was time for her to dive in. The sooner she answered police questions, got rid of her ex and was safely at the lodge, the sooner he would be able to see her again. But that didn’t make letting her go any easier.

THREE

Holly stumbled up the beach, her body trembling and dripping from the swim. She didn’t want to talk to anybody. Especially not Caleb.

Preston’s return had hit her like the force of water from a fire hose. And his dismissal had left her feeling much like the crumbling remnants of the cabin. Not to mention the attempts on her life.

“Holly.” Caleb’s brand-new, colorful hiking boots slipped in the gravel as he rushed to her with a fireman’s blanket. “You’re alive. Do you know what happened here? I was scared to death. How’d you escape?”

Holly tensed at his attention. She wasn’t his to worry about anymore. “Calm down, Caleb. I’m fine.” Fine. Ha. Who was she kidding?

“That is such a relief.” He wrapped the scratchy blanket around her shivering shoulders, which would have been nice if he hadn’t kept his arm around her, as well. “I’m just thankful you weren’t in the cabin. Did you go swimming as soon as you got here?”

She shrugged out of his grip and ignored the question. But at least Caleb had been concerned for her welfare and was now acting thoughtful. She would have expected him to take off on their honeymoon with his new girlfriend.

“Thanks for the blanket.” Her teeth chattered. It may be June, but the lake temperature only varied eight degrees from winter to summer.

Caleb tried to wrap his arms around her again.

She shook him off. Not happening. “What are you doing here?”

“The neighbors called your parents when the cabin exploded, and they called me to see if I knew where you were.”

Holly eyed him. Mom must have been really worried about her if she’d asked Caleb for help. Though how had he gotten to her cabin so fast?

“I’m so thankful you weren’t injured. I never got the chance to tell you how horrible I feel about what happened between us, Holly. It was a mistake. And actually I was planning to stay on my boat in hopes you’d call me so I could drive over here, and we might work this out.” He gripped her hand. “Please.”

She grimaced at his touch. There was nothing to work out. Particularly not now that the first man she’d ever loved had shown up alive again. As dishonest as Preston’s death was, his presence reminded her how good they’d had it once upon a time. And Caleb was not once-upon-a-time material. She pulled away.

An officer with a receding hairline strode over. “You’re Holly Fontaine? This is your cabin?”

“My parents own it.” Good, a distraction. Except now she would have to answer a bunch of questions in a way that would somehow leave out Preston’s existence. Maybe she should be the one asking the questions. She’d take on her attorney persona. “What happened?”

“Ma’am, I’m glad to see you survived. My name is Officer Shaw, and I hate to tell you this, but a bomb went off in your cabin earlier today.”

“A bomb?” The idea still shook her.

“Yes, ma’am. Do you know of anyone who’d want to harm you?”

She looked at Caleb. Pretty convenient he just happened to be in the area. The bomber had been talking to someone on the phone. Could it have been him? No. It was more likely the other woman wanted her dead, now that Caleb seemed to want to make things work with Holly.

“What’s your girlfriend’s name?” she asked.

Caleb reeled. “No. That’s ridiculous. She’s not my girlfriend. And she wouldn’t do this anyway.”

Officer Shaw pulled his sunglasses lower on his pockmarked face to look at the other man. “I will check her alibi. What’s her name?”

Caleb shifted his weight side to side. “Denise Amador. But make no mistake, she didn’t do this.”

Holly lifted her chin. “She obviously wasn’t above having photos taken of you two together and sending them to me.”

Caleb’s voice lowered. “You still think she did that?”

The officer chewed at the fingernail on his thumb. “I’m going to need to interview you both separately.”

Holly blew air into her cheeks. None of their old relationship stuff even mattered anymore now that Preston was in the picture. Because Preston was the only one who should have ever been in the picture—the old Preston anyway.

The old Preston never would have left her to talk to police by herself. The nickname “doll” came from the way his parents said he used to like to play with her as much as his little sister liked playing with her dolls. She smiled sadly at the memory. Preston had called her “doll” to get her on the Jet Ski, but not because he wanted to rekindle their friendship.

She focused on Shaw. “That’s fine, Officer. I’m not planning to talk to Caleb anymore anyway.”

“What? Why not?” Caleb held his hands out as a different cop motioned him away. “Is there another man in your life?”

No. Just the shadow of a man. “Goodbye, Caleb.” Preston or no Preston, her main regret with the lawyer was that she hadn’t said goodbye sooner.

Shaw led her toward the police car next to her totaled vehicle. Debris had smashed into it, and the heat had melted everything from her purse to her computer to her luggage. She’d need to go shopping, but could she even get money out of her bank without a license and debit card? Maybe Dad could wire her some cash for the rest of the weekend. She’d hole up at the lodge, waiting for Preston to show up again.

Or had she been knocked unconscious by the blast from the explosion and dreamed the whole Preston thing? That would actually make more sense than his sudden appearance after four years.

“What’s your relationship with Mr. Brooks?”

Blech. Holly didn’t want to even think about Caleb. Had he been cheating on her the whole time? “We were supposed to get married this weekend, but I found time-stamped pictures of him with someone else in my mailbox last week.”

Officer Shaw scribbled notes. “You don’t suspect Mr. Brooks set the bomb?”

She leaned back against the seat. “No. He obviously lacks morals, but he’s not stupid.”

The policeman gave her a hard look.

She shrugged. “We’re defense attorneys. If he’d planted a bomb, he would have made sure he had an alibi far away from here.”

Shaw scratched his head with the back of his pencil. “We will check out his alibi. You really think Ms. Amador would go to such lengths?”

Up until twelve days ago, Holly hadn’t even known the woman existed. “I don’t know.” She thought back to Preston’s suggestions that a former client might be after her. Would he have considered Denise a suspect had he known of Holly’s broken engagement? It didn’t matter now. The police were looking into it. She told Shaw about the blue Jeep before asking for a ride to Cedar Glen.

* * *

The resort had been remodeled since Preston’s last visit. It was a nice change, though it made him sad how easily life went on without him. Holly probably wouldn’t need him around for long, either. Hopefully, she’d kept her word and hadn’t mentioned him to authorities.

She arrived a couple hours later in khaki shorts and a ruffled, baby blue tank top, carrying a shopping bag. Her parents must have wired her some money.

He waited until she’d checked into Cottage 19 before scanning the surroundings and knocking on her door. It would have been safer for her to be in the main lodge, but the place always booked up months in advance.

“Who is it?”

“Preston.” Saying his own name sounded strange. He usually gave a different alias everywhere he went.

The door swung open. “So you are real. I thought maybe I’d imagined the whole thing.” Holly left him at the door and sat on the brown leather sofa in front of a stone fireplace. She clicked the television remote to turn down the volume of the local news, which was covering the bombing she’d just escaped.

Preston closed the door and looked from the on-screen reporter standing in front of the charred cabin remains to the woman whose great-grandparents had built it. “How are you doing?”

“Numb right now. My attorney brain is trying to make sense of all this, but the pieces don’t fit together.” She gave a wry smile. “Mom and Dad offered to drive up, but I told them you are taking good care of me.”

His shoulders sagged until he registered her small smile. “No, you didn’t.”

Her smile disappeared. “I wanted to. I hate secrets.”

“So do I.” His secret was what kept him from taking her to The Rustic Lounge to enjoy a good meal and talking until midnight, the way they used to. “How did it go with the cops?”

The corners of her mouth curved down. “I might as well tell you about my cancelled engagement.” She looked away. “My former fiancé—your old JAG friend Caleb Brooks—was at the cabin. Said he wanted to work it out with me. Police seemed to suspect him at first, but now they are looking into the other woman. I personally think she’s more likely.”

Preston clamped his jaw shut. He could get himself in trouble here if he wasn’t careful. “I’d like to look into other possibilities.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “You mean like check into which of my former clients have been released from jail recently and that kind of thing?”

“Yes.” She’d be a good investigator with her experience in law and the research that went into it. Unfortunately, that was what gave her the idea she could help find his saboteur. He’d disappear before she ever got the chance to try.

She scooted over. “Are you going to sit down?”

He’d been planning to keep his distance. His mission was to find the person after her so she could return to her life safely. Nothing else. Which meant they had work to do.

“How about we go to the business office and use their computers for our research?”

She frowned. “You don’t have a computer or phone?”

He shook his head. “I go to the library for research since I can’t pay for internet or cellular service without a credit card.”

Holly blinked. “Of course.”

And hers would have been destroyed in the bomb blast. He tilted his head toward the door. “Come on.”

Preston led her across the commons area with its picnic tables, fire pits and swimming pool, toward another small cottage structure that housed a few game tables in one room and computers in the other. Two kids swatted a Ping-Pong ball back and forth and didn’t even notice them as they entered the smaller interior room.

Holly sank into a chair and ran an internet search on Operation Desert Hope before he could stop her. The black-and-white image of a burning helicopter took his breath away. It came to life in his memory with the roar of fire, the heat of flames, the smell of sulfur and the taste of acid in his throat. Shouts. Sirens. The realization he’d let his team down. Not to mention the failed recovery of hostages whose families counted on him to bring them home safely. Then there was Sergeant Beatty warning Preston to lie low until he discovered exactly what had happened.

Preston had failed them all.

“Holly.” He pushed through the past to get back to the woman in the room with him. “We are investigating the bomb at your cabin, remember?”

She spun her chair to face him. “You’re not giving up on finding your saboteur, are you? Do you have any idea who it might be?”

His breath hitched. He couldn’t do this now. “My first goal is to keep you alive. Please log in to your work files.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Police are probably arresting Denise Amador right now.”

Preston rubbed his temples. If she wanted to believe Denise was her only threat, how was he going to get her to help him figure out who the real enemy was?

Holly bit her lip. “Do you think Caleb will defend her? Nah. Never mind. I don’t want to talk about him.”

She didn’t want to think about her situation at all. That must have been why she wanted to focus on him instead—why she was so adamant about investigating the helicopter crash.

“Holly, if you don’t need my help anymore, I’m not going to stick around.” He couldn’t relive his last day with SOAR over and over, letting her hope she’d find something he missed. He knew what it felt like to have your hopes dashed, and he wasn’t going to do that to her. If she refused to work with him to find out who was really after her, then he’d watch from a distance to make sure the police kept her safe and arrested the hit man and the person who’d hired him. That was probably the best thing for both of them.

She huffed but turned back toward the computer to log in to her files at work. “I’m going to look at this again later.”

“Fine. For now, let’s try to rule everyone else out before we focus on Denise,” he suggested. Planting a bomb was not the logical next step up from stealing a boyfriend. “What cases have you lost in your career?”

Holly scanned the digital files. “Just a few. Dante Scott. The basketball player accidentally hit a kid who was running out in the street to catch up with a bus. Guilty of manslaughter. The jury was just trying to make an example of him to all the other pro athletes who think they can get away with crimes.”

Preston knew that case well, as did the entire country. It said a lot about her success in law that she’d represented the professional athlete.

He lowered into the seat next to her. “He got out of prison early for good behavior, didn’t he? I’ll look him up.” The man’s alibi would be easy enough to check. He couldn’t go anywhere without the press following. “Next.”

Holly scrolled down the list on the screen. “Madeline Carpenter claimed her twin committed the robbery, but we couldn’t prove it. She’s still in prison. You think she could hire someone to kill me from prison?”

“Possibly. We can check the inmate calling records to know for sure. Next.”

“Taylor Everingham. He smuggled drugs over the border, but only because his wife’s life was being threatened by a drug lord. They still found him guilty.”

Preston leaned forward and gnawed on a fingernail. “Would he kill you if his wife’s life was in jeopardy?”

Holly twisted a wispy strand of hair at the base of her neck. “Possibly. But he’s still in jail, too.” She leaned against her seat back, rubbing her hands together. “That’s it. Do we go after Denise now?”

“We can. Or we can check out families of victims who were upset when you got a client off.” Nothing rang true for him so far. There had to be someone more familiar with explosives. Someone with more of a motive.

“If that’s what you want to research, we’re going to be here all night.” Holly tilted her head and smiled sweetly. “Can we go pick up some dinner first?”

Preston looked down to avoid smiling in return. She did not ask him out. She was asking him to feed her. Which was a good thing. If she’d been asking him out, he would have had to say no. “I’ll call in an order of ribs.”

She rested her elbow on the countertop and her chin on her fist. “Remember that time Dad was grilling ribs and a bear showed up, so we all had to hide out in the cabin, and dinner was burned to a crisp?”

Then their parents had brought them to Cedar Glen Lodge instead. “I remember. Bear or not, your dad always burned the barbecue.”

Holly chuckled. “I think it’s because he liked having an excuse to go out to eat so he could get out of dish duty.”

Preston couldn’t keep from smiling at her this time. He picked up the lodge phone to order from room service, as well as to distract himself from continuing down the path to memory lane. It took a moment for him to snap out of the past and realize there was no dial tone.

He pressed the receiver button a couple times. Still nothing.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. While he’d been reminiscing, someone had cut the phone line.

The lights remained on. The internet stayed connected. But if someone wanted to hurt Holly, Preston needed to get her out of there. Back to her cottage so she could call the police.

“Holly,” he whispered as he rose. He motioned for her to follow him.

The game room stood empty now, which could be good or it could be bad. Good because he didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. Bad because being in a public place might have kept them from getting hurt.

He scanned the area for a bomb. But a bomb wouldn’t warrant cutting phone lines. If there was really someone trying to kill Holly, the goal would be to get to Holly before she could get help.

She joined him. “What—”

He held a finger to her lips.

She frowned at him, then scanned the empty room. “What are we doing?” she whispered this time.

He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t see the fear his words would cause. He’d be better off keeping his eyes open for the enemy. “The phone lines are down. We’re going to get you back to your room, where you can call the police.” As long as her room line still worked.

Holly’s hands reached for his arm as she trailed after him. Fingernails dug through the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “You think someone still wants to kill me?”

That was what he’d been trying to tell her. Maybe now she would listen. He pressed her back into the wall beside the front door. He’d check their surroundings first, before they charged into the open.

She froze in place as he gripped the doorknob. Her fingers refused to let him go. That was fine. He wasn’t going far.

He cracked the door open, squinting as the sinking sun momentarily blinded him. It was a gorgeous and peaceful day. Maybe he was being paranoid.

Pop.

Wood splintered next to his face from a slug.

He slammed the door closed. Twisted the flimsy little lock.

“What happened? What are you doing?”

Thankfully, the thick, log walls would keep out any more bullets. But the windows wouldn’t. They couldn’t keep people out, either.

Preston pried Holly’s fingers off his arm. “Down. Crawl. Back to the computer room.”

“Why? I don’t under—”

Glass shattered from the window frame and tinkled to the tile floor.

Holly crouched and took off over the shards, toward the other side of the building. Preston followed.

The enemy wasn’t holding back. An enemy that wanted Holly dead so badly they were willing to take out Preston in the process. Hopefully, there was only one shooter. And hopefully, whoever it was hadn’t realized that the game room also included a computer room with internet access.

“Are those bullets? Are we being shot at?” she yelled back over her shoulder.

“Yes.” He slammed the door to the smaller room and barricaded it with a chair under the knob. “Get online and contact the police. I’m going to keep the shooter away from you.”

Holly logged in to the internet from a kneeling position. “I don’t think it’s Denise anymore,” she said, trying to use logic to make sense of a life-and-death situation.

No. This was not a crime of passion. This was a premeditated attack. “I don’t think so, either.”

“911. What is your emergency?” The voice echoed over computer speakers.

“We are being shot at.”

We? Did she just say “we”? Preston craned his neck around to send her a warning look.

Holly covered her mouth, eyes wide.

“Have you been shot?” the voice asked.

“No. No. The door is locked. I’m inside the computer room at Cedar Glen Lodge.”

“Police are on their way. Has anyone been shot?”

Preston splayed his hands as if he could feel the handcuffs. Unless Holly did some quick damage control, he’d soon be wearing them soon.

Or he’d be dead.

The door vibrated as a body slammed into the other side.

FOUR

Holly’s heart thumped as loudly as the thudding on the other side of the door. Would the chair keep the shooter out? As if having the same thought, Preston pressed his body against the door, as well.

Help, Lord. Maybe she should help. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, making her limbs feel strong and shaky at the same time. She dashed toward the door to keep the enemy out.

“Miss? Has anyone been shot?”

Oh, the emergency operator. She darted back. “No.”

The door bulged again.

Holly’s heart jumped. Would the enemy bust through? Would this be her last moment on Earth? Would her parents have to mourn her death the way they’d all mourned Preston? Her heart ached for them.

Preston anchored his shoulder against the wood. He pushed his feet against the ground. His red face scrunched with exertion.

Another bulge. The chair underneath the knob crashed to the ground. Space between door and frame grew larger.

Holly charged. Together they could push the door closed.

The barrel of a gun appeared, followed by a hand.

She dug her toes into the floor harder. Leaned forward. Reached for the door to smash the shooter’s arm with the strength of her momentum. Almost there.

“Get down,” Preston shouted.

Holly ducked, but kept on going. She could slam the door closed from the bottom as well as she could from the top.

Pop.

Her arm flew backward. Her ears rung like a firework had exploded in her face. She blinked, trying to figure out if she’d made it to the door or not.

Someone called her name in the distance. Tile rushed up to meet her. She reached to catch herself, but the moment her left hand touched the ground, a searing pain shot up her biceps. Or was that her triceps? The pain grew to overtake both areas.

Had she been shot?

Blood dripped down to her fingers. Her blood. She sank to the ground, feeling nothing but the mangling of her flesh. It radiated through her whole body. Made her dizzy.

Had Preston been shot, too? The weight of her eyelids pulled her eyes closed, so she couldn’t find him. She tried to call for him but heard nothing except the low wail of sirens.

Police. Would law enforcement make it in time? Would she be okay? Would Preston?

Lord, please keep Preston safe.

* * *

Preston watched in horror as Holly sank to the ground. She’d been hit. It looked like a flesh wound. But still. He was there to keep her safe, and he’d failed.

With renewed strength, Preston pulled away from the door to ram his whole body back harder. The gun knocked against the wall. He’d caught the shooter’s arm. Good. Now the man couldn’t aim anymore. To keep him there, Preston would have to wait for police to arrive, and he’d be caught as well, but at least Holly would be safe from whoever was trying to kill her.

Oh, God, don’t let this guy get away.

Sirens rang in the distance. About time.

The gun thrashed in the shooter’s hand as the man realized he was about to be caught. Preston pressed harder to keep the owner pinned in place.

The hand stilled. Was he giving up?

The door arched, sending Preston stumbling away. He reestablished his balance and charged back into position. The door slammed tightly into the doorframe. He’d given the man enough time to pull his arm out.

Preston’s heart constricted. Not only had he let Holly get shot, but he’d let the shooter escape. He held his position until footsteps crunched over broken glass on their way out the front door. Then he lowered himself next to Holly and brushed a wisp of pale hair off her clammy forehead.

Sirens grew louder. Tires screeched. She’d be in good hands. Though the shooter had gotten away. Unless he chased the man down himself. Preston probably knew the area better than police.

“I’m sorry, Holly,” he apologized quietly before sprinting out the door.

* * *

Darkness. Heaviness. Throbbing. Voices.

Holly opened her eyes. She was alive. In the computer room and surrounded by emergency workers. Where was Preston?

Her heart lurched. She used her good arm to press herself to a seated position and scanned the room. “Where is he?”

An EMT pushed her chest back toward the floor. She twisted out of his grip.

Officer Shaw strode over. “He got away for now, Miss Fontaine, but we’ll find him.”

They’d find Preston? Oh no. The policeman was talking about the shooter. Preston must have escaped before police arrived. He was okay.

She sank to the floor. Thank You, Jesus.

“Hold still, ma’am. I need to clean your wound.” The EMT adjusted her arm with gloved hands and dabbed at the gash with some kind of cold liquid.

Holly gritted her teeth as the stinging increased. At least it looked better than it felt.

Shaw focused on her. “Glad you survived another attack. That was some quick thinking, using the internet to call for help.”

Holly closed her eyes. She wouldn’t have survived if not for Preston. Where had he gone? Would she ever see him again?

“So you propped the chair underneath the door and held off the gunman by yourself?”

Holly’s eyes flew open. She hated dishonesty, and she wouldn’t lie. She’d made that her policy from the very beginning of her law practice. But she’d also told Preston she would keep his existence a secret. What now, Lord? Her gaze zeroed in on a Bible most likely left at the lodge by the Gideons. That had to be a sign. God would want her to tell the truth.

“I wasn’t alone.”

Shaw followed her line of sight. “God was with you?” He harrumphed, then made a note in his notepad. “If there is a God who answers prayer, you’re certainly keeping Him busy today.”

Holly almost laughed. She’d been about to give Preston all the credit for rescuing her, but the policeman had thought she was talking about God. Maybe she should have been. God was the one who’d answered her prayers. He was the one who’d orchestrated events so Preston had seen the bomb being planted in her cabin earlier that day. God must have known this was going to happen back when they were kids. He’d brought them together to support each other.

Preston’s friendship and commitment had gotten her through a lot. Like when she’d lost the freestyle race at the state swim meet. And when she hadn’t gotten the scholarship to Stanford. And when she’d found out her best friend from high school had cancer. He’d been the one to suggest the polar plunge fund-raiser that had paid off Alexandria’s medical bills from chemo.

Had she ever been there for him like that? He’d always been so strong and capable. But now he wasn’t. He was nonexistent. And since she was the only one who knew he was still alive, she was the one who could offer him help.

The EMT dabbed her arm with gauze. “It’s just a graze. I’ll use some butterfly bandages to hold the wound together.”

Holly cringed. She’d fainted over a mere scratch? At least she wouldn’t have to go to the hospital and she could get her hands on a computer sooner to research Operation Desert Hope. Something bugged her about the online story she’d looked up. Something told her to look deeper. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Here, ma’am. I think this will help.”

Holly waved away the pill and water cup. She just wanted these people to track down the bad guy and leave her alone. She had work to do. And she couldn’t do it with a fuzzy brain.

Officer Shaw bit at a nail. “Miss Fontaine, this has to be very scary for you. Until the person who did this is apprehended, I’m going to guard you around the clock.”

Holly squeaked. And not just from the way the EMT pinched her skin together. She wanted the police to find out who was trying to kill her so she could move on with her life. Move on with helping Preston get his life back. She needed Shaw to leave so she could do that.

“How long do you think that will take?”

Officer Shaw studied her. “You’ve got somewhere else you need to be?”

The irony. On what was supposed to be the biggest weekend of her life, she had nowhere to go and nobody who would miss her. “All I have is canceled plans.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Fontaine. This wasn’t my plan for the weekend, either.”

“Shaw.” A short, redheaded woman in a business suit entered the overcrowded computer room carrying a clipboard. “We checked Brooks’s alibi. He was down at the yacht club the whole time.”

They still suspected Caleb? He could have been the voice on the phone, but since he’d never really loved her, having her cancel their wedding shouldn’t have been that big a deal. Preston hadn’t even suspected him. At least it was one more name they could cross off their list.

“It wasn’t Brooks,” Shaw stated. “Deputy Young saw the perp sneaking out a back window but lost him in the woods. Caucasian. Six feet, one hundred and eighty pounds. Tan with medium-blond hair and a camouflage hoodie. Knows the area really well, too. Put out an APB.”

Holly gasped. Shaw had described Preston. He was after the wrong man.

* * *

Preston watched from up the mountain as the sun set and lights flicked on in the cabins below. He wiped sweat from his brow when an ambulance pulled away without Holly. She must be okay, but his stomach still churned at the idea she’d gotten hurt under his care. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. She’d be better off with police protection. The same officer who’d been at the bombing now walked her across the commons to her cabin. Looked like he planned to personally guard her.

From now on, Preston would keep a safe distance as he watched for the shooter to return. The man had disappeared before Preston could follow him, but that wouldn’t happen again.

If only they’d found a lead in Holly’s work files. Maybe the police department would have better results than he’d had.

Cop cars pulled away from the scene of the crime one by one. A couple plainclothes detectives stuck around to record evidence. Had Holly been able to keep his existence a secret this time around?

Preston shook his head to free himself from the fear of being discovered. The more pressing issue would be to discover whoever was trying to hurt her.

Was he right in believing the shooter to be related to a client from her past? Or was it just a random psychopath? Or perhaps he should look into Denise Amador as Holly had suggested. The other woman could have hired a hit man. That could have been her on the phone with the bomber.

Preston rubbed his temples. Time to sneak down to Holly’s cabin and wait outside a window for a chance to talk to her. He’d make sure she was okay after the bullet wound. And then he’d say goodbye. No matter how well they worked together or how good it was to see her again, his presence only complicated the situation.

After driving the old Chevy down the mountain and parking on the street, Preston made his way to Holly’s cabin. He hated having to leave her, and he hated how much he hated having to leave her.

He crouched down to avoid detection as he neared Cottage 19. He peeked through a window to find Officer Shaw in front of the television and Holly on the phone. Probably talking to her mom.

It had been years since Preston had talked to his own mom. The emptiness he’d once been used to now overwhelmed him like a tidal wave. Being with Holly, being known, had been a sip of water to a man in the desert. It wet his tongue, but made him realize how parched his throat had become. How would he survive if he had to head back out into the desert again?

Holly hung up. Spoke to Shaw. Turned toward the bathroom.

This was Preston’s chance. He crept toward the light that flicked on through a frosted pane, swallowed down emotions and tapped on the glass.

Running water stopped. He tapped again. The sill trembled as she unlocked the window. It slid open silently.

Holly’s face appeared. She squinted into the dark. “Preston? Oh, I prayed—”

He held a finger to his lips and pointed to the showerhead. She nodded, then disappeared for a moment. Pipes squeaked as the rush of water resumed. Now they could talk without being overheard.

She leaned toward him, her short blond hair illuminated like a halo from behind. “I’m so glad you’re okay, but I have to tell you, I don’t think I can keep your secret much longer. I almost revealed your existence to Officer Shaw earlier. And my mom knows something’s up.”

He’d requested she not tell police about him, but he hadn’t figured in Holly’s connection with her mother. And if Mrs. Fontaine found out, she would never be able to refrain from spilling it to Preston’s mom.

“I know it’s difficult. That’s why I have to disappear.”

“What?” Too loud.

He held a finger to his lips again and tensed, waiting for Officer Shaw to come charging through the door. Sure enough. Footsteps.

“Miss Fontaine? Everything all right?”

Her glare told Preston she wanted to say no. “Yes, thank you,” she answered anyway.

“Good. I’m going to step outside to call my wife, but don’t worry, I’m not going far.”

“Okay.”

They waited for his footsteps to fade.

Holly rested a forearm on the sill to lower herself enough to look Preston straight in the eye. “You told me you would stick around until you knew I was okay.”

He sighed. This wasn’t an easy choice, and she wasn’t making it easier. “You’re safer with police, Holly. As much as I want to protect you, I’m just one man.”

“Officer Shaw is just one man.”

“He has a gun. And backup. You could have been killed today.”

She searched his eyes through the steam floating from the shower. “When will I see you again?”

He started to shrug, but the gesture fell flat. This wasn’t something he could shrug off. “After I figure out who sabotaged the helicopters.”

She leaned forward. Did she want to kiss him goodbye? Like the last time he’d said goodbye? It had been different when he’d left for his tour overseas. They’d had hope for a future together. A kiss now would break through the walls that kept his heart from hurting. And yet the touch of her lips to his might be what brought healing and kept him going. It had been so long since he’d made any good memories.

Her hands clamped down on his shoulders. She leaned all her weight into him. Definitely not the most natural position for a goodbye kiss. He rocked forward.

Her face lowered toward his. She grunted. “I’m coming with you.”

She hadn’t been trying to kiss him after all. She wanted to use him for balance to climb through the window. Her torso already hung halfway out of the cottage. Why did she have to be so tenacious?

“No, you’re not.” He gripped her ribs to push her back in.

“Ouch.” She pulled her injured arm to her chest.

He released her automatically to keep from hurting her any more. “You okay?”

“No, I’m not okay. You’re the only one who really knows what I’m going through, and you’re trying to leave.”

He stepped closer to the window to push her back in. “For your own good.”

She used his proximity to wrap her good arm around his neck. Was that the heat from the shower or her embrace that warmed his skin? “And for your good, I’m going to tell police everything.”

His insides burned. After all he’d done for her, she was going to hand him over to go to prison?

“Holly, please.” The whole world would turn on him. His parents would be harassed. That was, if they lived that long. Whoever had hanged Sergeant Beatty could also take out anyone else who might believe in Preston’s innocence.

Her eyes softened. “Even if I try to keep it a secret, it’s going to slip out. So take me with you. I can help prove you didn’t sabotage the operation. I’m a defense attorney, and I’m really good at my job.”

He wanted to believe she could help, but she was already in enough danger. He couldn’t ask her to sacrifice her future. That had to be his burden alone. “Holly—”

A pinecone skittered across the ground toward them. Preston’s muscles tensed. Was the shooter back? Had he just put Holly in the enemy’s crosshairs?

The blue light from a cell phone floated around the side of the house, followed by muffled cursing. The communication device flew to the ground. Officer Shaw stepped forward into the light from the living room window, fumbling for his gun. “Stop!”

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