“You can go into my bedroom if you’d like.”

Instantly he realized he’d made the offer sound suggestive. A Freudian slip if he’d ever had one.

Kelli did a half-snort laugh and retreated into the room. It could have been his imagination but it looked as if her cheeks had reddened. Then again, he could have been mistaken.

Mark stretched out his legs and realized just how tired he felt. Resting his head back on the cushions, he crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. When Kelli was finished he’d offer her some coffee and make a very strong one for himself.

His thoughts went from coffee to the woman who had suddenly become a part of his life. Would she still be after they’d somehow found the justice they both wanted and so desperately needed?

And, more important, how would he feel about it?

Full Force Fatherhood

Tyler Anne Snell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

TYLER ANNE SNELL genuinely loves all genres of the written word. However, she’s realized that she loves books filled with sexual tension and mysteries a little more than the rest. Her stories have a good dose of both. Tyler lives in Florida with her same-named husband and their mini “lions.” When she isn’t reading or writing, she’s playing video games and working on her blog, Almost There. To follow her shenanigans, visit www.tylerannesnell.com.

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This book is for Lillian Grace and Katie.

Lily, thank you for being the coolest kiddo I know. One day you’ll be able to appreciate there’s a book dedicated to you. Until then I’m sure your mom will hide this sucker until you’re older!

Katie, thank you for being a sister, a true friend, and giving me motherhood goals to aspire toward. Not to mention showing me such a strong bond between mother and daughter that it was almost easy to translate it to paper. I’ll always love every bit of you and your family!

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“Something’s not right.”

Kelli Crane looked at her husband and sighed. “Making fun of me isn’t going to win you any points, Victor,” she warned. “Don’t poke the bear.”

“Because she might poke back?”

He walked into the cabin’s bedroom, where she had been lounging with a book, and took a seat at the edge of the bed. In his late thirties, Victor Crane had managed to hold on to his boyish grin with ease. Tall, almost lanky, he had short strawberry blond hair that looked like extensions of the sunlight that fell through the windows, and eyes that mimicked the blue of the sky. She could claim the same kind of brightness about herself, but slightly different—dirty-blond hair, green-gray eyes, a tan that could only be described as sun-kissed—but sometimes when she looked at Victor, her own beauty felt diminished. Staring at her husband of a year and a half, she wondered what their children might look like.

“If you keep mocking me about wanting to keep you safe,” she said, “poking back is the first thing I’ll do.”

Victor held his hands up in defense. “Whatever you say, my love.”

She put down her book and smiled. She knew he had only indulged her paranoia by hiring the bodyguard two rooms away. For the past two weeks, he had tried to put her worries to rest. In his line of work as an investigative journalist, sometimes the crazies came out. That didn’t mean they should run for help after receiving a few deep-breathing phone calls at the house. However, Kelli couldn’t stop her anxiety from mounting as more than just a few calls had come in.

“How’s the story coming along?” she asked, setting the book against her stomach. Her hand hovered there a second before she let it drop. “Please tell me you’re almost done.”

“The news article is nearly finished, yes. I should be done by tomorrow.” He stood and stretched. “Then we can resume our normal lives.”

“You wouldn’t want to stay a few more days?” Kelli looked out the window. Victor’s family cabin was a few skips away from a crystal-blue lake that looked like a painting, with a pier that Victor had probably walked down since he was a child. Her family had never had moments like that. Then again, if her parents had been alive, she was sure they would have tried. They had been good, loving parents before the car crash had happened when she was younger.

“If this was a vacation, then I’d say yes, but...”

“But you’re here to work,” she interrupted.

He nodded. “And when that work is done, I have to move on to the next assignment.”

“One that I hope won’t make me feel we need to hire another bodyguard.”

Victor laughed. “Let’s be honest. The only reason you hired him was for a little eye candy,” he whispered. He raised his eyebrows suggestively, joking with her. Kelli swatted at him.

“Dark hair and muscles galore?” she said. “Who would want that?”

Victor came to her side and bent low. He brushed his lips across hers for a soft kiss.

“Not you,” he replied, laughter behind each word.

Kelli smiled. It had been a while since they had been able to spend more than an hour or two a day together. Since they had been married, Victor’s assignments had taken him away from their home in Dallas.

But that was going to change soon.

It had to.

“Well, back to the grind. Do you need anything?”

Kelli pictured the ice cream in the freezer but decided against it.

“I think I might take a nap. I still don’t feel all that great.”

Victor gave her forehead another quick kiss. “Nap away, my love.”

And then he was gone.

* * *

MARK TRANTON HAD watched the sun set as he finished his routine perimeter check. He might have had a history of traveling internationally and domestically, but this was the first client to bring him to a lakefront property. If he ever took his vacation time, he might consider coming back to a place like this.

In the dwindling light, the isolation felt serene.

He was almost glad that his boss, Nikki Waters, had more or less forced him to take on the weeklong contract with Victor. Even if both Nikki and Victor had said his presence was more for Mrs. Crane’s peace of mind.

Since the Orion Security Group was in the middle of an expansion—thanks to a large contract completed two months before by Mark’s good friend Oliver—the small company’s caseload had tripled. Even though the closest contract start date was two months away. Including one for which Mark would be traveling to Washington for a three-week commitment.

Which was why Nikki had said accompanying the Cranes to a family vacation home in North Carolina was “the closest to a vacation” that Mark would take.

He couldn’t complain.

They were on day three of the contract, and Victor and his wife had been nothing but pleasant.

“Are we in the clear?” Victor asked him.

Mr. Crane was standing in the kitchen, beer in hand, when Mark came back inside and locked the door. There was a lightness to his tone but no disrespect. He might not have shared his wife’s fear for safety, but he didn’t discount Mark’s job. Mark respected him more for that.

“I think we’d hear or see someone coming a mile away,” Mark answered honestly.

“This place is kind of off the beaten path, but that’s why I thought it might do Kelli some good.” Victor pulled out another beer from the fridge and started to offer it to Mark but caught himself. He switched out the bottle for water, which Mark thanked him for. Although he could have gotten away with one drink, he wouldn’t. A bodyguard needed to stay alert at all times. No exceptions. “Kelli’s normally not this anxious. But lately some things have happened that have...well, made her more emotional. I just want to keep her from getting all worked up.”

“That’s nice of you,” Mark said.

“Well, I feel it’s the least I can do. I’ve been working a little more than I should be.”

“I can relate to that,” Mark said with a quick smile, even though he loved his job. When he wasn’t given a new client, he asked for one. He’d been working in the private security business since he was twenty-one. It was as much a part of him as the scars on his back and the muscles he had honed as a job requirement. Pretending that overwork bothered him would be just that.

Pretend.

“You know what I like about you, Mark?”

“Aside from my stoic nature?”

Victor laughed. He seemed always to be laughing.

“Aside from that, I’d have to say I’m surprised you haven’t asked me what I’m working on. If I were you, I would have pestered me the last few days.”

Mark shrugged. “Once Nikki vets a client, that’s pretty much all I need to know. You’re a freelance journalist working on a piece for a national news syndicate. I don’t need to know the topic to make sure no one shoots you.” Victor nodded in assent. “Plus, you said yourself that it wasn’t anything that would ruffle anyone’s feathers.”

“True,” he confirmed. “It’s a piece spotlighting a private charity foundation based in Texas.” It was Victor’s turn to shrug. “Nothing too menacing sounding, am I right?”

“Yeah, I’d have to say that—”

The back of the cabin exploded in a fiery ball of glass and wood. The blast sent both men to the ground hard. Heat instantly filled the air, smoke hot on its tail.

Mark was the first to pick himself up, stumbling to his feet, trying to get his bearings. Looking to his right and down the hallway, he couldn’t tell what the explosion’s origin was. But he knew the outer wall that ran across the office, hallway and master bedroom and bathroom was definitely affected. Flames sprung up everywhere.

Mark went around the counter and hoisted up his client. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear Victor yell out his wife’s name.

The instinct to get the journalist to safety flared within him, but he didn’t try to hustle him through the two doors or six windows they had access to. It wouldn’t do any good. Victor loved his wife and wouldn’t leave her. Mark wouldn’t, either.

“Behind me,” Mark yelled as he righted the man. Victor’s eyes were wide, terrified. He nodded, and they began to move down the hallway as quickly as Mark was comfortable with.

Whatever had blown up had damaged the office opposite the bedroom the most. Through the open door, he could tell the wall was gone. The window in the hallway had blown out, and flames were in the process of devouring the frame. Mark sucked in a breath as he went into the bedroom.

Lying on the floor next to the bed was an unconscious Kelli. Smoke was already hugging the ceiling, billowing out from the bathroom. While Victor bent at his wife’s side, Mark ran to see where the new smoke was coming from. The bedroom’s outer wall wasn’t on fire like the hallway.

He didn’t have to look far. Flames were pulsing up the outside of the house, even stretching around to the right side where the guest bedroom was.

That’s when Mark saw him.

A figure dressed in black ran around the perimeter of the house, right where Mark had walked minutes earlier.

“Someone’s outside,” he yelled. Kelli was in Victor’s arms, limp. Mark wanted to help her, but he also needed to deal with the person responsible for starting the fire. Victor was about to say something when a horrible crack split the air.

With less than a second to react, Victor threw Kelli forward just as the outer wall crumbled. All Mark could do was watch as Victor was thrown to the ground beneath the wall and part of the roof. With the new source of oxygen, the fire expanded in a violent burst.

Mark went down to his knees, using his body to cover Kelli until everything settled. However, nothing did.

“Save her,” yelled Victor. He was trying to move but, in that one horrible moment, both men realized that the weight would be too much for either of them to move. That didn’t stop Mark from trying.

He quickly went to the journalist’s side and tried with everything he had to lift the largest piece of wall and wood from Victor’s back. It didn’t budge. Not one bit.

“Save her,” Victor yelled again. Another wave of heat rolled through the air. Mark looked around. The escape route into the hallway wasn’t going to last much longer.

Mark met the blue eyes of his client, knowing it would be the last time he ever saw them.

“I can save you both,” Mark said, though he knew it was a lie. Flames were licking at his back. If they didn’t get out now, they wouldn’t.

Victor yelled one last plea, making Mark decide the fate of three people all at once.

“She’s pregnant!”

Mark didn’t hesitate after that. He picked up Kelli and gave Victor one last look.

“I’ll come back,” he yelled, but the man didn’t answer.

Mark kept Kelli to his chest and ran into the hallway. The state of the rest of the cabin confirmed his earlier fear. Someone had not only blown up the side of the house but also set the area around the entire structure on fire. Reason told him that the kitchen and its back door would be their best bet. The figure in the dark wouldn’t have had time to get the fire going too strongly there.

Kelli stirred in his arms, coughing violently. He held her tighter and almost yelled in relief when he saw the back door wasn’t crawling in flames. He threw it open and ran straight into the water a few yards away. The lake was low for the season, and the dock was high off the water. He splashed under the wood, giving them the only cover available in the backyard.

No shots had rung through the air and no attack had been initiated as they left the house. But that didn’t mean the perpetrator wouldn’t still try.

“What the—” Kelli started to catch her breath, eyes open and looking wildly at him.

“Are you okay to stand?” he asked quickly, already tilting her feet into the water. Confused, she nodded. “I need you to stay right here, hidden, okay?”

Again she nodded, but Mark knew it was only a matter of time before she realized her husband wasn’t with them. She seemed to still be processing being conscious at the moment. Kelli caught her balance as Mark released her. He pulled his pocketknife from his pants and handed it to her, turning as soon as she grabbed it.

An awful sound filled the air, another in a long line of things that would haunt him about that night.

A fireball erupted from the kitchen and engulfed the rest of the cabin. Glass exploded and the ground shook. The house gave one final wheeze and, together, Mark and Kelli watched as it burned to the ground.

Chapter Two

Kelli slipped off her heels and padded quietly across the floor. Footsteps echoed in the hallway behind her, but she didn’t stop. Sidestepping a few boxes left scattered around the room, she hurried into the open closet.

It wasn’t deep, but it stretched wide. Empty save a few coat hangers, it didn’t allow her much cover. On the other hand she could try to hide behind a stack of boxes in the corner. Though she’d have to really bend to remain hidden. The footsteps came closer, and she had to choose.

The closet would have to do.

Kelli pushed herself to the corner and slid down the wall until she was sitting with her knees pressed up to her chest. The light from the opened bedroom window lit even the mostly dark corner. She would be seen easily by anyone who looked inside the doors.

Silence filled the room.

For a second, Kelli worried. Had she been seen coming into the room? The shuffle of two feet let her know she had. The footsteps came closer, and Kelli held her breath. Her hunter was quick to search around the boxes and move on to the closet. The shuffling stopped a step from the opening. There was a moment of silence that felt almost tangible.

Then a tiny face peeked inside, and Kelli couldn’t help but laugh.

“Boo,” the little girl yelled. Smiling ear to ear, she squealed in delight as Kelli jumped out of her hiding spot.

“You found me!”

Grace Victoria Crane let out another round of giggles before running off. Kelli laughed as she followed the toddler through the house, knowing the little girl’s destination.

Like mother, like daughter, Grace loved the library.

It was her fair-haired beauty’s turn to hide.

Behind the wall-length curtains—one of the few things that hadn’t yet been packed in the room—stood a pair of little blue shoes. They were covered in sequins, and Kelli knew for a fact that finding them in stock had been a miracle in itself.

“Hmm...” Kelli put her finger to her chin and tapped it. Moving slowly around the boxes and plastic tubs pushed to the side of the room, she made a big show of being confused. “I could have sworn I saw a little girl with chocolate on her mouth run in here!” Grace started to giggle. The sound made Kelli’s heart swell. “I wonder who that could be!” She went to the curtains, ready to tickle the culprit, when the little girl jumped out on her own.

“Got you,” she yelled. When Grace was excited like this, Kelli couldn’t deny the resemblance between them. Although Grace’s hair was a shade or two darker, their ever-changing green eyes were almost identical. Her facial features, however, all belonged to her father.

“You’re the best hide-and-seeker I think I’ve ever played with,” Kelli said, scooping up the toddler. She was about to unleash another round of tickles when the doorbell chimed. It echoed through the mostly packed up house.

“Me, me,” Grace yelled, already trying to wiggle out of her arms and race to answer the door.

“Not without me,” Kelli answered. She moved Grace to her hip and took a moment to marvel at how big she was getting. A year and seven months, almost to the day.

The past two years had flown by and yet, in some ways, Kelli seemed painfully stuck. As she moved down the hallway to the front of the house, she tried to commit to memory how the wood floor felt beneath her bare feet. She wondered what the next year would bring after all of the changes Grace and she were about to make.

A familiar face was bobbing in front of the windows in the front door, inciting a new excitement in Grace. Kelli put her down with a laugh and opened the door for the godmother of her child.

“You’re late,” Kelli teased Lynn Bradley. The short woman with black hair wore a pair of worn overalls with a long-sleeved yellow flannel shirt that contrasted with her dark skin. Kelli raised her eyebrow at the choice of wardrobe but didn’t say anything. Lynn had been a bit eclectic ever since they were children.

“Listen, it’s not my fault that you already packed up your TV, forcing me to choose between the end of You’ve Got Mail and the care of your child.” The twenty-nine-year-old gave her best friend a smirk before bending down and enveloping Grace in a hug. “My, how you’ve grown! Look at you! Gosh, how old are you now? Three? Five?”

Grace put her hands on her hips and gave Lynn a critical eye. She held up one finger. “One!”

“That’s my girl,” Lynn approved. She mussed Grace’s hair, and the three of them went inside.

“You were here yesterday, you know,” Kelli said as they went into the living room. Lynn laughed.

“That doesn’t discount the fact that that kid of yours is growing like crazy! She’s going to be taller than me before you know it! She’s not two yet and look at her!”

Grace, suddenly uninterested in their conversation, went to her makeshift play area in the corner. It looked like a graveyard for plastic dinosaurs, stuffed animals and Legos.

“I know,” Kelli agreed with a smile. It didn’t last long. Lynn had come over to help pack up the one room Kelli couldn’t get through on her own.

Attached to the living room by a set of French double doors was Victor’s home office. It was a small room but had managed to collect a lot of things in the six years he had lived in the house. Just looking into the room had sent Kelli into tears for the first six months after the fire. Then, slowly, she had been able to bear the sight of the room Victor had spent the most time in. Kelli supposed Grace had helped her with that. She had to stay strong for their child, who would never know her father.

Lynn’s expression softened, but she didn’t comment. Aside from Grace, Lynn had been the most constant part of her world during the past two years.

“Okay, well, let’s get started.” Kelli motioned to the bookcase. “You empty that and I’ll start with the desk.”

“Got yah, Boss.” Lynn pulled the plastic tub over to the small bookshelf. Although there was a library in the house, the office shelves were filled with research materials collected over Victor’s nine-year career as a journalist. Her husband had covered an array of subjects, freelancing from home, and working for newspapers and magazines around the nation. His next goal had been to work internationally, but then they had found out about the pregnancy. Victor had decided his family was more important than work.

Kelli sat down in the office chair, sadness in her heart.

Her thoughts slid back to the night at the cabin.

Sometimes she could still feel the heat of the fire. Smell the smoke in the air. Feel the cold of the water as they waited for help to arrive. The boy behind the fire had been caught, sure, but that didn’t make the memories of what had happened any more bearable.

She took a breath. She didn’t need to remember that night now.

Ten minutes into packing away the office’s contents, Kelli found something she hadn’t known existed.

“Hey, look at this.”

The middle side drawer of the desk had stuck when she tried to open it. She pulled too hard, and the entire drawer slid out. Along with it came a small notebook that had been taped to the bottom of the drawer above it.

“What is it?” Lynn asked, walking over.

“I don’t know. It was hidden.”

The notebook wasn’t labeled, but it was filled with Victor’s pristine handwriting.

“It looks like work notes,” Kelli observed. She flipped through it, scanning as she went. “I recognize some of these names...but I thought all of his notes were—” She cut herself off and rephrased. “He took them to the cabin with us. I didn’t know he had kept notes here.”

Lynn gave her privacy as she thumbed to the last few pages. Possibly the last notes Victor had ever taken. Kelli shook her head. She didn’t need to travel down that road today.

“Wait.” Her eyes stopped on a passage in neat, tiny writing. “This doesn’t make sense.”

Or maybe it did.

* * *

“WE NEED TO TALK.”

Kelli’s back was ramrod straight against the office chair. It wasn’t made to be comfortable—those who sat across from Dennis Crawford, retired editor of the national online publication known as the Scale, didn’t usually intend to keep his company long. Especially during house calls like this. She suspected that he had let her in only because of Victor. Dennis and he hadn’t been friends, but they’d worked together on more than one occasion.

Including the last story of Victor’s life.

“I suspected, considering I haven’t seen you since—” He cleared his throat, trying to avoid the fact that their last meeting had been when her husband had been lowered into the ground. Kelli shifted in her seat. “How have you been?” he asked instead.

“Good. Grace is keeping me busy, but I’m sure that won’t change for another seventeen years or so.”

Dennis, an unmarried man with no children of his own, smiled politely. Victor hadn’t told her the man’s age, but she placed him in his early forties. Kelli couldn’t tell if he was genuinely kind, but she could see he carried a lot of self-pride. Although gray was peppered into his black hair, his goatee was meticulous, along with the collared shirt and slacks he wore. Journalism award plaques, athletic trophies, and pictures of Dennis and other men dressed in suits decorated almost every available inch of the home office.

“So, what can I do for you?” His eyes slid down to the folder in her lap. There wasn’t any use tiptoeing around what she had come to say.

“I was packing up Victor’s office last night when I found some of his old notes.” She slid the folder across the desk. “Including these.”

Dennis raised an eyebrow—also meticulously kept—but didn’t immediately pick up the folder. In that moment she was thankful she’d never had to work under the man. He fixed her with a gaze that clearly said, “So what?”

“They’re his notes on the Bowman Foundation story—the last story he covered.” That at least made Dennis open the folder, though his eyes stayed on her.

“Okay?” Dennis said.

Kelli shifted in her seat again. “I guess I’m wondering why the story you printed doesn’t match up?”

His eyebrow didn’t waver, but his gaze finally dropped to the photocopies she’d made of Victor’s notes. The actual notebook was tucked safely into her purse. She didn’t want to part with it, not even for a moment. Finding it after the past two years was like finding a small piece of Victor.

“What do you mean, ‘doesn’t match up?’” Dennis asked, voice defensive. “I used the notes he sent me.”

“Not according to those notes, which are undoubtedly his.” She leaned forward and pointed to the first section she had highlighted. “The names are different. I’ve already looked them up but can’t find anything.” Dennis pulled out a drawer and grabbed a pair of glasses from it without saying a word. He slipped them on and leaned his head closer to the paper. From where Kelli sat, she could see his concentration deepen.

But she could also see something else.

Dennis’s eyes registered no surprise at what he was seeing.

“Normally I wouldn’t second-guess this, but...well, it was his last story,” she added.

“The names we published were pulled straight from the email I got from Victor,” he said after a minute more of going through the pages. He set his glasses down and threaded his fingers together over the papers. The gesture also looked oddly defensive. “These were probably notes he wrote quickly, then later changed to be accurate. Perhaps it was even his way of brainstorming how he wanted the story to go with placeholder names.”

Kelli didn’t need to think about that possibility long. She shook her head.

“I think these were his backup notes. He always said he didn’t like keeping everything electronically. I just thought his written notes were also with us at the cabin.”

Dennis seemed to consider what she said but, by the same token, it felt as though he was putting on a show. What had been an off-balanced feeling of doubt started to turn dark in the pit of her stomach.

“I don’t know what to tell you. I personally verified the information—just to be safe—before the piece was published.” He shut the folder but didn’t slide it back. “The Bowman Foundation publically thanked the Scale—and Victor—for the story. Because of the spotlight, they’ve received a substantial amount of funding since the article debuted. If any of the facts were incorrect, I would have been made aware of it—retired or not.”

Kelli considered his words. Was she just overreacting? Was she looking for a reason to revisit the memory of Victor? Had finding his handwritten journal been too much of a shock to her system?

“Listen, Kelli.” Dennis’s expression softened. He took off his glasses and fixed her with a small smile. “I’m due to meet an old friend for lunch, but how about after that, I’ll recheck these.” He put his finger on the folder. “I’ll call if anything weird pops up.”

Despite herself, she smiled, too.

“Thanks. I’d really appreciate it.”

Dennis stood, ending the conversation. He moved around the desk and saw her to the front door.

As she turned to thank him again, he said, “I’m sorry about Victor. But, word of advice? Maybe you should start looking to the future and not the past.”

Kelli didn’t have a lot of memories of her mother, but she knew being polite had been high on her priority list. That thought alone pushed a smile to her lips, while the knot in her stomach tightened. Dennis shut the door, leaving her standing on his porch with a great sense of unease.

You’re reading way too into this, Kel, she thought as she turned on her heel. Calm down and just forget about it all.

“Hey, Kelli?” Dennis called when she was halfway down his sidewalk. She hadn’t heard him open the door. “Do you have the journal those copies were from?”

Her purse suddenly felt heavier at her side. Before she could think about it, she was shaking her head.

“No, I just found the copies.”

“Oh, okay, thanks.”

She waved bye and continued on her way.

“Because if you did have it, I’d really like to see it,” he called after her.

The feeling of unease expanded within her. Once again she turned to face him.

“Sorry. The copies I gave you were all I had.”

Dennis shrugged and retreated behind the door. It wasn’t until she was safely inside her car that she chanced another look at the house.

It might have been her imagination, but she could almost have sworn the blinds over the living room windows moved.

Chapter Three

Mark cracked his knuckles and swigged a gulp of his beer. Sitting behind the bar of a local dive, he kept his eyes glued to the television screen above him. An old football game was running, but he wasn’t paying much attention.

He’d had one heck of a day, if he said so himself.

The construction manager had come in early with a mood that matched the unexpected storm that would mean no work for the next two days to a week. Then the concrete pourer—who had never driven in rain, it seemed—had backed up into Mark’s Jeep, breaking a taillight and denting his bumper. The cherry on top was that when he decided to de-stress from an unproductive, unprofitable workday with a drink or two, he’d picked the bar from his past.

“Sorry, I had to take that call.” Nikki Waters, founder of the Orion Security Group and his former boss, sat back on her bar stool and reclaimed her drink.

Mark smiled but felt no mirth. He didn’t dislike Nikki. In fact, he had once considered her a great friend. However, the past two years had put a weight on the friendship. One that hadn’t affected just their relationship but his entire life.

“It’s fine,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. He remembered meeting Nikki for the first time when she’d been a secretary at Redstone Solutions and he’d been a low-ranking security agent. She’d been quiet, unobtrusive, yet clever and kind. The latter two traits she had held on to, but the first two? Well, he knew from experience that if she was quiet, it was only because she was finding the right words to tell you exactly what was on her mind. And unobtrusive? If she thought people she cared about were making a mistake, she’d tell them.

She’d had that talk with Mark several times already in the past year.

“So, how are you, Nik? It’s been a while.”

The 33-year-old looked surprised he’d made the first conversational move, but she recovered quickly. She straightened her short, dark red ponytail before answering.

“Good. Busy, but good.” She motioned to the bar around them. “I would actually still be at the office, but the storm knocked out our power. Jonathan told me it was a sign we needed to ‘capitalize on Friday night.’” Mark mentally winced at the mention of Jonathan. Along with Nikki and Oliver Quinn, Jonathan Carmichael rounded out friends with whom he had all but severed ties since he left Orion. “I’d heard him talk about this place on more than one occasion, so I thought I’d give it a try.”

“The service isn’t great, but I can’t complain about the price.”

Nikki laughed. “I’ll drink to that.” And she did.

“What about you? How’ve you been?”

“Good,” he lied. “Not as busy, but okay. Working with a decent construction crew on a neighborhood south of the hospital. Keeps my muscles working,” he joked. Nikki laughed again, but it was laced with concern.

“Listen, Mark,” she started, but he cut her off.

“I don’t want to come back, Nikki. I told you then that I was done with being a bodyguard, and I still mean it now.”

“But, Mark, you have also told me before how much you love it,” she pointed out. “You can’t let one incident deter you.”

“Incident?” he repeated. “A man died, Nik.”

“It wasn’t your fault. I don’t know how many times everyone has to tell you that.”

“My one job was to keep him safe, and instead I let some punk kid burn him alive.” His voice rose as he said it, and the bartender shot him a look that clearly asked him to settle down. Nikki didn’t flinch. This fight was an old one by now. He couldn’t help it, though. Every time he thought about Darwin McGregor—the firebug—and his floundering admission to the cops that he had set fire to the cabin for fun, Mark’s mood instantly turned heated. The nineteen-year-old had said that blowing up the large propane tank had been nothing more than an accident. He’d thought the tank was empty. He’d thought no one would be hurt, just scared. It didn’t change the fact that Victor had died.

Or that Mark didn’t believe him.

Images of the dark figure running away from the house flashed through his mind. He had been too tall and too wide to be Darwin. Though the cops, Nikki and everyone else had blamed this accusation on Mark’s overwhelming guilt.

It was another reason he had quit Orion six months later.

“Yes, it’s our job to protect people,” she said, lowering her voice in an attempt to get him to do the same. “But that doesn’t mean we can be everywhere at once.” She stretched her hand out as if to touch his but stopped. “It was a horrible accident, yet even Mrs. Crane agreed that her husband’s death wasn’t your fault. You saved a woman and her unborn child. That has to count for something.”

Mark took another swig of his beer.

“Don’t you think we’ve talked about this enough already, Nik?” he asked, adjusting his voice back to a tone he thought was pleasant.

Again she started to say something but caught herself before nodding. She reached into her pocket and pulled out an Orion business card. There was a number already written across its back in pen. She slid it over to him.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. This will be the last time I bring any of this up,” she promised.

“What’s this?” He nodded to the card. He didn’t recognize the number.

“Let me preface this. I didn’t want to tell you, considering everything you’ve been through, but she insisted she needed to talk to you.”

Mark was perplexed. “Who needs to talk to me?”

“Kelli Crane.”

Mark’s mouth dropped open slightly. “Why?” he asked. “And when did she call?”

“I’m not sure why—I didn’t ask and she didn’t offer the information up—but she called a few hours ago.” Nikki waved the bartender over. “All she said was that she found something you might be able to help her with.”

“I—I have no idea what she’s talking about,” Mark said more to himself than his former boss.

“Then you might want to call her back.” She smiled and handed her credit card over to clear out her tab. It sobered Mark.

“I find it hard to believe that you happened to take a message for me on the same day you just happened to run into me at a bar. Did you come here to give this to me?”

Her smile grew wide. “Let’s just say, I’m hitting two birds with one stone.” She gave the man a pat on the shoulder. “It was good to see you, Mark. I hope everything works out.”

“Thanks, Nik. You, too.”

Mark stared down at the number after she’d gone. It was amazing how ten digits could affect him so profoundly. He quickly looked around the bar, as if the patrons could hear his internal struggle. No one paid him any mind. He slipped the card into his jacket.

Less than an hour later, Mark was sitting in his apartment, staring at his phone. There was nothing to be afraid of about calling Kelli. She had, after all, wanted to talk to him. But Mark couldn’t get past the why of it all. Why call? Why now?

“Only one way to find out,” he announced to the empty room.

Mark dialed the number before realizing how late it was. He didn’t know her child’s name but knew she lived with Kelli. The last thing he needed was another reason for Kelli to be upset with him. Waking up her toddler was something he wanted to avoid if possible. He hung up on the third ring, deciding to call her the next day.

Again, he wondered why she wanted to talk to him.

Mark waited around for a few more minutes before deciding to take a shower. It was quick and refreshing, a great contrast to a not-so-great day. His new mood stuck as he got to his phone and saw he had a voice mail.

The number matched the one Nikki had given him. He put the message on speaker and listened as Kelli Crane’s voice echoed off the walls.

“Mark Tranton? Hi, this is Kelli Crane. There’s something I really need to talk to you about. Can we meet? Let me know.” She paused. Mark almost ended the recording before she said one last thing.

“I don’t think Victor’s death was an accident.”

* * *

THE NEXT WORKDAY was a washout, just as Mark had thought it would be. Thanks to a heavy rain in the middle of the night before, his construction site and crew were put on hold. That could have been a time to relax for Mark—they’d been working long hours before the storm came in—but he still wouldn’t entertain the idea of a vacation. He was the kind of man who not only appreciated hard work but also craved it. When that work stopped, for whatever reason, he was left with a world of thought he’d rather not visit. So instead of lounging around—or, heaven forbid, sleeping in—Mark changed into his sweats and hit the gym.

The workout room was sectioned off in the corner of the bottom floor of his apartment complex, which gave the place a solitude that Mark liked. Or maybe it was the feeling of improvement that working out brought him. Either way, it was a ritual he could do anywhere, whenever he wanted. He didn’t need permission. He didn’t need advice.

Whether or not he was a bodyguard didn’t matter.

“I don’t think Victor’s death was an accident.”

Mark brought his fist back from the speed bag. Kelli Crane’s admission had all but stopped him from breathing. Not because it was out of left field. No, because it was strange to hear his theory come out of the widow’s mouth.

A theory that had been thrown aside by everyone he’d cared about and thought cared about him. Even Nikki had tried to talk him out of it until she’d been blue in the face. She was trying to protect him from himself, she’d said. But all she’d done was shown him that at the end of the day maybe she didn’t believe in him as much as he’d once thought.

His fist connected with the bag again. He could feel the teeth of the past sinking back into him, and he had two options. Try to pry them off or ignore them until he couldn’t feel their sting.

The second option had treated him well the past year. He snorted, knowing that was a lie.

Mark went through his boxing routine, trying to drown out his thoughts, but each time his skin connected with the bag, he seemed to fall deeper down the hole. The image of the mystery culprit—not the nineteen-year-old firebug—flashed across his mind.

“Whoa, what did the bag ever do to you?” Mark spun around to find his neighbor Craig go for the weights. He was grinning, but his smile fell when he saw Mark’s face. “Everything okay?”

Mark realized his breathing had become rapid, his heart beating fast. His shirt clung to his chest, sweat keeping it flat against his torso. A dull ache in his hands began to register.

“Just blowing off some steam,” he said, changing his harsh tone to one that could pass as conversational. It worked well enough.

“You already have steam? The sun just came up!” Craig laughed. “Must be about a woman.”

Mark shrugged. “You could say that.”

They talked about the weather and their jobs for a while before doing their own things. Mark’s hands finally begged him to give it a rest, so he said bye to Craig and huffed back to his third-floor apartment.

It wasn’t a big space—a studio with a box of a balcony—but Mark didn’t need much. The only mementos he truly treasured were the pictures that hung on the walls. His parents and younger sister, Beth; friends from his hometown in Florida; and even one that had been taken the day Orion had officially opened. That one, though, he didn’t really look at anymore. The rest of his valuables consisted of his home media center and laptop—both of which he had seldom used since starting his construction job. A homey place it was not, but it sufficed.

Mark walked to the glass door that led to the balcony and looked out. It was a cloudy seventy degrees and was expected to get chilly. A cold front was supposedly blowing in that night, but he wasn’t about to put stock in anything the forecast projected. In his ten years of Dallas living, he had learned that if you didn’t like the weather in Texas, you should just wait an hour. It often changed.

The quiet of his apartment crept around him the longer he stood there. He hadn’t called Kelli back, and he didn’t know if he would. After Victor had died—and in the year that followed—he had almost gone crazy following his gut, trying to find the figure in the dark who had started the fire. Even after Darwin McGregor admitted that it had been him.

Determination had turned into obsession. Walls went up around him as each of his friends tried to tell him it was his guilt that fueled the pursuit. Nothing more and nothing less. Then, on the one-year anniversary of the fire, he had decided it was time to let it go.

This was the first time, however, that Kelli had ever mentioned it.

He eyed his phone on the coffee table. Didn’t he owe it to her to at least hear her out?

Chapter Four

The weatherman might not have been completely wrong. As Mark stepped out of his taxi, he wondered if he should have brought his jacket. His long sleeves might not cut it if the temperature dropped even further.

It was just after dinner, and he was back at the bar he’d been at the night before. He had a feeling the place would be seeing a lot of him in the next few weeks, especially if this meeting went south. He’d finally called Kelli back and was surprised when she’d asked to meet him somewhere later that night. Nothing more was said beyond that, and now here he was, showing up a half hour early. Nerves or anticipation? He couldn’t tell which, but he made his way to one of the booths tucked into the corner. It gave him a clear sightline to the front doors.

From habit, he took in his surroundings. Men and women of varying careers were all dressed down to some degree—one of the women at the table next to him had on flats, though a pair of heels could be seen sticking out of the bag at her feet, while the other had let her hair loose across her shoulders; an older man at the bar had his tie undone around his neck, beer in hand and eyes on the TV; a group of yuppies had their blazers draped over chair backs while they threw darts next to the front door; a man walked in and immediately went to the bar, hand up, ordering a beer.

A few more patrons came in and before he knew it, the half hour had passed. Mark hadn’t spent enough time with Kelli Crane to know if she was punctual or not.

No, he didn’t really know her at all.

The Orion Security Group had done its homework on the now twenty-nine-year-old woman before the contract had started. It was imperative to do the research to make the protection side of the job most effective. He’d learned that Kelli Crane—formally McKinnely—had a degree in art therapy and worked with the elderly at the community center. She came from a small family that all but disappeared after a car crash killed her parents when she was young. Socially she had kept out of the spotlight, staying close with a childhood friend named Lynn.

In that regard, she was quite the opposite of her late husband. Victor Crane had been a networker, thanks to his job. He had more connections than even Orion’s analyst had been able to uncover. Mark had tracked down as many as he could, trying to find a tie between the man’s death and the fire, but it was hard to find a link when you didn’t know what you were looking for in the first place.

Mark couldn’t help but focus on the blonde as she paused to survey the room before meeting his gaze. There was no hesitation in her bright eyes. She made a beeline for him.

Although he’d recognized her easily, he had to admit she looked different from the woman he’d known through the contract. Kelli walked with unmistakable purpose. Her once-long hair was shortened to her chin with bangs that cut straight over her eyebrows. The dirty blond had lightened as her skin had darkened—she’d been getting sun. He’d bet her kid had something to do with that. Instead of the almost prim outfits she had worn at the cabin, she was dressed more casually—a blue button-up with jeans and black flats. There was no flashy jewelry—he noticed no wedding ring, either—and even her purse seemed more practical than pretty.

Seeing her made him wonder what he looked like in turn. Had he changed in the past two years?

“Hi,” Kelli greeted him, sliding into the seat across from him without pause. Whatever was on her mind, it had her determined.

“Hi,” he responded. Mark didn’t know what to feel, seeing her so informally, as if they were old friends reconnecting. The only thing they shared was a tragedy. Did she feel the same self-loathing he did?

“Thanks for meeting me, by the way. I know it must be strange.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He cleared his throat. “So, how have you been?”

“Good. Busy, but good.”

Mark smiled. It was the same thing he’d said to Nikki the day before. He wondered if Kelli actually meant it.

In record time, the waitress popped over and took her drink order before they could dive in to their conversation. Kelli asked for beer and cracked a big smile. Mark couldn’t help but raise his eyebrow at her expression.

“Sorry. I haven’t gotten out much since Grace.” She tamped her grin down a fraction. “And I certainly haven’t been to a bar and ordered beer. I almost feel like this is a minivacation.” Her smile instantly vanished, like a candle blown out. Silence followed as she dropped her gaze.

“Kelli, why did you want to meet?”

The blonde quirked her lips to one side as she concentrated. She was choosing her words carefully. Finally she found them.

“After the fire, the cops came. You told them you’d seen a man running from the house,” she started. This time she didn’t shy away from his gaze. “When they picked up Darwin McGregor—” she paused, eyes momentarily glazing over with emotion “—you said it wasn’t the same person. At the time I didn’t even think to question it—he admitted to setting the fire—but now...”

“But now?” he pressed.

“Well, I think I should have listened to you.”

Mark was an impassive man. He didn’t know if that was what had made him such a good bodyguard— before the fire—or if it had been the other way around. Sure, like anyone, he had emotions. He felt things like the next man. It was his ability to mask those feelings, those shifts in conversation that surprised him, that he had mastered through the years. However, as the words left Kelli Crane’s mouth, once again he had to struggle to keep from gaping.

Not so much at their meaning. It was the implication behind them.

“I don’t understand,” he said honestly.

Kelli’s drink arrived, but she didn’t touch it. Her minivacation was apparently over.

“The story Victor was working on at the cabin—did you ever read it?”

“No.” Mark didn’t want to lie, but he also didn’t want to admit why he hadn’t. He’d tried before but even the headline had made his guilt expand. Reading the article was salt on the wound of not being able to save the man. If Kelli was offended, she didn’t show it.

“The Bowman Foundation, a charity, had been operating anonymously in Texas for a few years but decided to go public. Victor did an in-depth spotlight on them—what they had already accomplished, what they hoped to accomplish, that sort of thing.” She moved her hand to hover over her purse but paused before placing it back on the tabletop. “It was published a week after the funeral.” Her smile was weak at the word. “While I was packing—we’re moving to a new house— I found Victor’s journal with a copy of his notes about the story. Now I’ve read the published article over and over again. I’ve memorized every detail.”

“Okay...I’m not following.”

“The two don’t match up.” He could tell she was getting frustrated, but at what or whom, he wasn’t sure.

“The published story and the notes?” he asked.

Kelli nodded. “Names, not important in the grand scheme of the foundation.”

Mark took a drink of his beer. “So they got the facts wrong. What does this have to do with anything?”

Kelli’s fists balled slightly, a move that someone else might have missed entirely. Mark was suddenly aware of how aware he was of Kelli’s movements.

“I talked to the editor of the Scale. He says it was Victor who was wrong, but I don’t believe that. Victor was using that spotlight to show he was capable of writing more feature articles. He figured it would help him get local work so he wouldn’t have to travel as much when Grace came. He wouldn’t have made that many errors.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m still not following.”

When she continued, her voice was noticeably lower.

“I think Victor might have stumbled across something that he shouldn’t have...and was killed for it.”

* * *

MARK’S EYEBROWS STAYED STILL, and his lips remained in their detached frown, but Kelli saw a twinge of movement in his jaw. He was trying to pretend he didn’t have a reaction to her accusation, but she’d seen it clear as day. She thanked two years of people trying to hide their pity for the widowed mother. She’d seen that look so many times that she had learned to read when most people were trying to hide what they really felt.

Mark had a reaction, but she didn’t know what emotion was behind it.

“Do you have any evidence to back that up?” he asked, voice even. “Aside from the difference between notes.”

Kelli remembered Dennis Crawford’s sharp stare as his hand stayed firmly on the photocopies she’d brought to him.

“Have you ever had a gut feeling, Mark? One that starts out as a tiny doubt and then grows and grows until you can’t ignore it anymore?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But having a gut feeling can only take you so far. What you’re trying to say is someone targeted and killed Victor. You need more than a gut feeling to back that up.”

“But aren’t you convinced that Darwin didn’t start that fire? What about the man you saw running from the cabin that night?”

Mark took a long second before he said, “Darwin admitted to it. Why would he do that if he didn’t actually start it?”

“Maybe he was put up to it. Maybe he was threatened. Maybe—”

“Kelli.” Mark’s jaw definitely hardened, along with his tone. She must have reacted, because just as quickly he softened. “It was an accident.”

“But you—”

Mark’s set his beer down hard. “I was wrong, Kelli.” The women next to them glanced over. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with this.”

It was an unmistakable end to the conversation.

Just as the pity of strangers had taught Kelli to read subtle reactions, her daughter had taught her the face of stubborn resolve.

“Then I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” She pulled out some cash to cover her untouched beer. “Thanks again for meeting me. Good night.”

Mark looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Kelli left the table without a look back, not even pausing as she brushed shoulders with a man leaving the bar.

Her face was hot and the outside air did little to cool it down. The heat came from either embarrassment at not being believed, or anger for the same reason. Maybe a mixture of both. Or, maybe her emotion wasn’t even meant for the ex-bodyguard.

Kelli took a deep breath.

Seeking out the only person who ever suspected foul play, and to have even him turn you down...

She let the breath out.

You really are overreacting.

Kelli followed the sidewalk, passing back by one of the bar’s open windows. The farther away she walked, the more convinced she became that the whole conspiracy was in her head. Moving out of the only home she’d ever had with Victor while juggling work and Grace was a lot of stress to carry. She thought she’d been handling it well enough, especially with Lynn’s help, but maybe she hadn’t.

Time to put it behind you, Kel.

“Don’t make a noise.” The harsh command came beside her ear just as a sharp point dug into her shirt. A large hand grabbed her upper arm. Kelli’s stomach dropped as her heart began to gallop. Before she had time to decide if she was or wasn’t going to comply, the man yanked her into a nearby alley. It was empty. No one yelled after them. “Turn around and I cut you,” the voice growled. “Make one move or sound and I cut you. Got it?”

Kelli felt her head bob up and down. She was facing the brick wall of a business she couldn’t remember at the moment. Her mind filled with images of Grace. The thought of her child put a bit of spirit back into her, but not enough for her to be careless.

“Drop your purse,” the low voice ground out.

Kelli slowly raised the arm that he wasn’t holding and maneuvered the strap off her chest and shoulder. She tried to gauge the size of the knife, but her nerves were too frazzled. The purse was on the ground for less than a second before the man snatched it back up. She saw his black-gloved hand. It made the terror in her rise even more.

Instead of leaving, he applied more pressure with the knife. She winced but didn’t make a noise.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” His breath brushed against her ear. It sent a chill up her spine.

“You have what you wanted,” she said, voice shaking.

The knife bit deeper. This time she let out a small yelp.

“Didn’t I say no talki—”

“I have a gun,” interrupted a cool voice from even farther behind her, definitely not her original attacker. “Hurt her and I’ll—”

Kelli was pushed into the wall as the man let go of her arm and struggled with the newcomer. Pain burst in her cheek as it scraped the brick. She didn’t pause to check it. She braced herself against the wall as she turned around.

Her attacker was a white man—she couldn’t guess an age well enough—dressed in all denim and black with a red baseball cap. He wasn’t tall but he was wide. In one hand he held her purse. The other was busy trying to fend off her savior.

Who just happened to be Mark Tranton.

“Give me the purse,” Mark commanded. His arm was cut, but he was holding a knife. Apparently having a gun had been a bluff.

The mugger eyed what used to be his weapon before darting to the left and out of the alley, taking the purse with him. For a large man, he was lithe.

“Are you okay?” Mark asked, eyes roaming her over.

“Yeah,” she breathed.

And then he was running.

Chapter Five

The man was fast. Like a jackrabbit, he cut across the road and disappeared into an alley opposite them with impressive speed. Mark was more of a hand-to-hand combat guy, but he held his own, only slowing down when a Mazda didn’t brake, apparently not worried about hitting pedestrians.

He chased the mugger through the network of alleys that connected two blocks. Dumpsters lined the sides and debris littered the ground, but the man used neither to try to block or slow Mark down. Instead, he ran full tilt. Which meant Mark wasn’t going to catch him unless he got creative.

His memory began to pull an aerial layout of the alleyways. The one they were running down had three turnoffs before forking into two paths. One went left into another busy downtown block, next to a chic restaurant that stayed open until midnight. The other torqued right between a Chinese take-out joint and a boutique. The way the man was running, he seemed set on a destination. He hadn’t hesitated when passing the first two turnoffs.

Mark didn’t, either.

He didn’t break speed as he skidded around into the first turnoff and ran the length of the short alley. It deposited him back onto a less busy sidewalk where businesses were darkened for the night. A few bystanders too drunk to drive and too broke to call a taxi dotted the sidewalks. Mark spun around a couple that stood and gawked at him. His breathing hitched at the extra movement, but he knew his body could handle the chase. He might not have been a bodyguard anymore, but he’d never stopped training.

The stretch of block ended, and he cut left around a closed café on the corner. Pumping his legs harder, he made it to the mouth of the alley.

It was empty.

“Dammit!”

Mark spun around, his eyes darting to all escape routes. There was no hurried motion on the sidewalks. None of the people milling around seemed alarmed. The mugger hadn’t come out of the alley. Mark had misjudged.

Or had he?

With the knife heavy in his hand, Mark reentered the alley. He kept his body loose, ready to move if the other man jumped out. But no one did. He paused, listening for another set of footsteps, before bending to pick up what had caught his eye.

It was Kelli’s purse.

* * *

BACKTRACKING THROUGH THE alley to the bar, Mark kept an eye out for security cameras or any obvious eyewitnesses who might have caught the face of the mugger. There were neither. He put the knife in his pocket as he neared the street; the bag was secured underneath his arm.

“Mark!” Kelli was standing outside the bar again with a manager he knew. The older man had a phone to his ear and nodded to Mark before retreating back into the business. Kelli waved him over. The obvious relief that painted her face at the sight of him made him uneasy.

“I think this belongs to you,” he said by way of greeting. Kelli took her purse, but her eyes stayed on his.

“Thank you.” The expression of relief turned to gratitude. Again, it made him uneasy. He nodded.

“Are you okay?” he motioned to her cheek. It was red, scraped, with a few spots of blood.

“Yeah. I’d rather have this than a cut from the knife.” She quieted.

“Did the manager call the cops?”

“Yes. When you took off, I ran back to call. I would have used my cell phone, but it’s in my purse.” That’s when she noticed the cut on his arm. He could feel its sting but knew it was harmless. “You’re hurt!”

“Don’t worry. It looks worse than it feels.”

“Hey, you get a good look at the guy?” The manager had come back out without the phone. Mark didn’t miss the bulge of a gun beneath his shirt.

“Not his face,” he admitted. “But I do know he was sitting at your bar.”

“He was in the bar?” Kelli asked, voice pitching high. The manager didn’t seem too thrilled, either. Even in the dim light from the street lamp, Mark could see his face redden in anger.

“He was sitting at the end closest to the corner. I remember seeing the back of his jacket. He got up as soon as you passed him, leaving. He seemed a little too interested, so I thought I’d check it out.” He looked at the manager. “He had a beer in his hand, so—”

“So we have him on camera. And maybe his card is on file, too,” the man finished. “A cop is on the way. He’ll want your statement, so you two stick around. A beer on the house for your troubles.”

“Thanks,” Kelli said, though she didn’t follow the man back inside. Her attention was on her purse.

“Hundreds of muggings a year and you have the luck of the draw to get one of them,” Mark said.

That pulled a snort from her. “Bad luck seems to follow me.”

Whether she meant it to be a pointed comment or an off-the-cuff response, it sobered him. Standing a few inches shorter than him, Kelli looked suddenly fragile. He had to remind himself she was the same woman who’d stood her ground and kept calm when a lowlife punk had a knife pulled on her.

“What did he take?” he asked, not wanting to think about what might have happened had he not followed them.

Her eyebrow arched. “Nothing,” she answered.

“What?”

She produced her wallet and phone.

“Okay, now that’s lucky right there!”

“Is it?” Kelli’s expression turned skeptical fast. “Why not take anything?” she asked. Opening her wallet, she showed him it was full of cash.

“I must have scared him off.”

“Or—”

Her thought was cut off as a police cruiser pulled up behind them. The officer got out, and Mark went to meet him. This definitely wasn’t how he’d anticipated the night going.

Twenty minutes later, Kelli was ready to go home. The officer took their statements and then went to look at the security footage with the manager. Mark wanted to go, too, but he couldn’t see the reason behind it. Kelli was safe and had her belongings back.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mark asked as they got to her car. Sudden guilt riddled him. The first time he’d seen her since the fire and she’d been attacked.

“I’m fine,” she said with a kind, polite smile. “Thanks for everything, Mark.”

They didn’t say much more. Just the awkward goodbye two relative strangers exchanged without committing to seeing each other again. Mark watched as she drove away.

He was surprised at how the thought of never seeing her again struck a sour note.

Then, just as the feeling occurred, guilt followed it.

* * *

“I’M FINE.”

It was the second time Kelli had said it within the space of an hour, but this time it was to a very anxious Lynn. Her best friend was sprawled across the couch with a magazine open on her lap, and her eyes were saucers.

“Oh, my God, I can’t believe you got mugged!”

“Hey, quiet. My kid’s trying to sleep,” Kelli warned with a smile. Seeing Lynn so obviously upset was starting to make her calm crack. She was surprised she had even been able to recount the entire story before Lynn interrupted.

“I know she’s asleep,” Lynn said, dropping the volume of her voice. “I’m the one who put her there and read that annoying counting-sheep book to her. Can we just get rid of that thing, by the way? Maybe ‘misplace’ it? Say the Easter Bunny needed it to keep on hopping, or maybe Santa needed it to fight crime or something? I think I’ve read that to her at least a hundred times already.”

Kelli appreciated Lynn’s attempt to calm her with a change of subject. The knotted stress within her lessened. She kicked off her shoes and leaned back into the pillows.

“And risk a never-ending tantrum? No way. I’d rather read it every night than endure one night without it.”

Lynn seemed to reconsider her stance before returning to the topic at hand.

“I still can’t believe you got jumped.” Her face softened, lips turning down. “He could have really hurt you, Kel.”

“I know, but he didn’t.”

Lynn’s eyes slid to the scrape on her cheek. As Kelli had sat in the driveway outside the house, the light from the car mirror had shown her the small wound looked worse than it felt. Which is what Mark had said of his cut. Her thoughts switched to the man.

“I’m just glad Mark saw the guy follow me out,” she admitted out loud. “Do you know he didn’t even have a gun on him? The only weapon he had, he took from the guy.”

Lynn whistled. “He’s got my praise. So how was talking to the bodyguard after all this time? What did he want to talk to you about?” Out of all of the people who had ever stepped into Kelli’s life, Lynn was the one person she’d always confided in without hesitation. From the crush she’d had on Billy Ryan in third grade to that one thing Victor had done in bed, there had never been a wall between them.

Until Kelli had found Victor’s journal and started to investigate.

The urge to tell Lynn of her suspicions had been great, but something had stopped her. Whether that was fear of judgment or embarrassment at making something out of nothing, Kelli wasn’t sure. Regardless, the excuse she’d made to meet Mark had been a lie.

“It was good. Nothing too special, just catching up.” Another lie. Another shot of guilt. “But he’s no longer a bodyguard,” she added, needing a dose of truth to ease her conscience.

“What do you mean?”

“He quit last year.” Nikki had told her that when she had called looking for him.

“Why?”

Kelli shrugged, but she could bet why he’d quit security. She couldn’t ignore the way Nikki had sounded almost sad as she recounted the information.

Lynn switched subjects again. They talked about the latest episode of The Bachelor—which sidetracked them to the topic of Lynn’s new neighbor, who had a “smoking body” but “not so much personality.” Eventually both women’s eyes started to shut, so they said good-night.

“Don’t forget to let that kid of yours know who got sent home from my show,” Lynn said at the door.

“You let her watch it?” Kelli asked, ready to admonish her. Lynn kept walking away with a wave.

“Just tell her it was the guy with the silly shirt. She’ll know what I’m talking about.”

Kelli laughed and shut the door after Lynn was safe in her car. She bumped her hip against the door to make sure it was shut all the way, threw the deadbolt and turned off the porch light. The cold of the hardwood floor made her pause. Moving across town to be closer to Lynn—and in a more affordable place—was definitely a move she needed to make, but...

She placed her hand on the door. It was polished and perfect. It reminded her of Victor picking her up and walking her over the threshold when they first got back from their honeymoon. He had insisted, even though they’d been living together for months.

Memories like that made her heart heavy as she walked through the house.

Heavy with love.

Heavy with loss.

She dropped her hand from the door and let out a long breath. Just because she was leaving didn’t mean she was leaving the memories, too. With a weird ache tearing through her emotions, Kelli decided to go to the one place that often helped soothe the rising grief.

Since Grace’s bedroom was mostly boxed up, the toddler had been sharing the king-size bed with her mom. Though the bed never seemed big enough if Grace got into a good dream. Kelli stood in the doorway and watched as the fair-haired child slept peacefully, unaware of her mother’s tumultuous thoughts. The ache within her began to dissipate.

Without undressing, she climbed into bed next to the girl, wrapping her arms around her. Grace—a snuggler—burrowed closer to her.

You’re okay, Kel. You’ve got all you need right here.

But even as she drifted to sleep, letting go of the hectic night’s worries, Kelli couldn’t help but pinpoint the one fact that felt off about her night’s bad luck.

Why hadn’t the mugger taken anything?

In the haze between wakefulness and sleep, her thoughts went to Victor’s journal, hidden in a box in the kitchen.

Maybe he’d been looking for something more specific.

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