RACE AGAINST TIME

Lacey Phillips believes Captain Wade Spencer knows something about her brother’s mysterious death. So she throws caution to the wind and tracks him down on Christmas Eve looking for answers. Wade tries to turn her away—until bullets start to fly. He doesn’t want to take the stubborn beauty on his life-or-death mission to find out the truth about how Wade’s past may have cost her brother his life. But with killers lurking everywhere, he has to protect her—especially when she breaches the walls around his heart. Can Wade and his faithful service dog keep Lacey alive long enough to figure out who’s targeting them?

ROADS TO DANGER: Family secrets resurface

“Someone is trying to kill you…

“If you knew that then,” Wade continued, “would you have stayed home?”

Lacey looked at him. “No. My brother’s dead. I won’t stop until I know why.”

“I already told you. Because of me.”

“Those guys out there weren’t sent by you. There’s more to the story. More than you even know.”

“The story of my life. Ever since I found out my mother’s aliases, I’ve been living that reality.”

“This is more than just finding out if your mother was a spy, isn’t it?” When Wade hesitated she said, “Please. We could be killed any second. Honesty is all we have left.”

He nodded. “But that’s all you’re going to get out of me. Talking only gets people killed. I get people killed.”

“But you rescued your sister—”

“Don’t.” He captured her gaze. His eyes glittered. “Don’t make me into some hero. I opened my mouth, and she was almost killed. And the next time, your brother paid the price.” His gaze darkened. “And if I can’t fix this, you’re next.”

KATY LEE writes suspenseful romances that thrill and inspire. She believes every story should stir and satisfy the reader—from the edge of their seat. A native New Englander, Katy loves to knit warm wooly things. She enjoys traveling the side roads and exploring the locals’ hideaways. A homeschooling mom of three competitive swimmers, Katy often writes from the stands while cheering them on. Visit Katy at katyleebooks.com.

Silent Night

Pursuit

Katy Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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My little children, let us not love in word, neither in tongue; but in deed and in truth.

—1 John 3:18

To Ben and all the other service dogs like him who assist their military handlers on a daily basis. You truly inspire.

Acknowledgments

My stories would fall flat without real-life people sharing their experiences with me. They are the true heroes behind the stories. I want to especially thank Dennis Theodore Swols, SSG United States Army. His honesty in answering my many questions about post-traumatic stress disorder as well as the amazing service dogs that have helped him in his daily life are what brought the emotions to the page. Thank you, Dennis, and thank you to your dog, Ben, too. What a blessing you have both been to my story and my life.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Acknowledgments

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

“In point two miles, your destination will be on your left,” the GPS’s mechanical voice spoke into the tension-filled interior of the old Honda Beat roadster. Lacey Phillips stole a quick glance at her rearview mirror. Blinding headlights from the car on her tail suggested she might not make it those point two miles. If this guy came any closer, she could be spending her Christmas Eve in a snowy New Hampshire ditch instead.

Not what a born-and-bred Southern girl was used to.

Lacey had nothing for warmth but a blue-jean coat and her brother’s army beanie hat.

Check that: her deceased brother’s.

“Stay on the road, Lacey,” she said aloud, and tightened her hold on the wheel.

She could almost hear her brother whisper the same words to her. They’d been each other’s spotter on the racetrack for so long, guiding each and every lane change from mouthpiece to earpiece, guarding against unforeseen hazards on the road ahead. Now it felt as though he guided her again. And it all started when Jeff had left her an envelope with nothing in it but a name and a key. Oh, how she wished there had been a warning of danger inside it, as well.

The car behind pulled up. For the past half hour it had kept the same taunting pace with her as when she’d spotted it outside the small town of Norcastle, New Hampshire. She’d thought it curious when they’d both took the cutoff to ascend these secluded mountain roads. Twenty more minutes of being tailgated through twists and turns and more cutoffs had caused her curiosity to change to full-on alarm.

Lacey wondered how long the car had been there before she noticed it. With her one-track mind on the sole purpose of this trip, it could have pulled up the moment she’d left work at her dad’s South Carolina reconstruction race-car shop seventeen hours ago.

Get the answers was as far as her thoughts had gone when she’d found the envelope in her brother’s office at the shop. Now, with her unwanted company coming up the rear, she probably should have put a little more planning into her mission. After all, her brother was dead, and she didn’t believe it was an accident, as the stamp on his military file implied. How far would someone go to keep that little detail under the rug?

Lacey accelerated, hoping to find the driveway her GPS alerted her to. Somewhere in these twisty back roads and walls of thick trees was the entrance to the home of her brother’s friend, Captain Wade Spencer—the name her brother had left in that envelope.

Lacey’s tires slipped beneath her as the car hit ice, something she was not used to. A yank of the wheel and a downshift freed her from the skid, but she realized this two-seater Beater was not the car to take north in the beginning of winter. Reason number 345 she would never make a good wedding planner like her wise and detailed-oriented, Southern-genteel mother. It was just one more disappointment for Adelaide Phillips to lecture her daughter about when Lacey returned home.

If she returned home.

Lacey looked in the rearview mirror again and breathed a little easier with the little extra space between her car and the one behind her, but with the thoughts of her mother permeating her brain now, it wasn’t too much easier.

What would Adelaide do when she heard her rebel daughter had raced off to places unknown to investigate her brother’s death?

Lacey revved her engine, just as she typically did to tune her mother’s sweet-as-sugar voice out of her mind. Then she floored the pedal, and her tires squealed beneath her just as they would on pit road on race day.

She had a mission, and Adelaide would just have to accept it. Lacey took some solace, though, knowing she didn’t completely go alone. She believed she could step out, or drive out, as the case may be, in faith because God always went with her.

Lord, right about now, I could use a little of Your guidance and maybe some more space between me and the car behind me. They’re getting awfully close again. Please, don’t let them interfere with my goal. I have to make things right. Stay with me, and please cover for me with Mama, and please help me find this Wade guy’s place.

Lacey scrutinized the dense forest ahead of her but still saw no inclination of any living being this far out from town. Talk about cutting yourself off from the world, she thought. What kind of person was this Wade any—

Lacey jolted. The car behind her had tapped her bumper! Was he playing some kind of game?

Back home on the track there might have been some words hollered out, or at the very least, an issue of a challenge for such behavior, but she didn’t think for a second this guy cared about his bad sportsmanship. So what did he want? To stop her from getting her answers was all she could fathom.

But she needed these answers for Jeffrey, Lacey reminded herself. She wouldn’t give up until her brother’s life was honored, not locked up in a confidential file somewhere in DC.

The car bumped her again.

Lacey’s stomach squeezed with trepidation. Never did she think she would need an exit strategy. It had always been get the answers and go home. In and out and home by Christmas dinner. End of mission.

She squeezed her steering wheel tighter and jerked when the car bumped her a third time. How she wished she’d been able to equip the Honda Beat for racing already. If she wasn’t stuck in the shop working other drivers’ cars, the Beat would have included at least a roll cage of tubular steel by now. Her ability to fight back would have put an end to the cat-and-mouse game this guy was playing. What was the point in tapping her bumper? Did he want her to move over?

Or to go home?

Not a chance, Lacey thought. She knew a few racers who used bullying tactics like this guy was doing. One tap meant “I’m behind you and want to come up.” Two taps meant “move it, or I’ll move you myself.” And three taps meant “you’ve been warned.”

So was that her third warning?

“You don’t know who you’re tapping, pal,” she spoke into her quiet cabin. “I don’t play the game for them, and I’m not playing it for you.”

“Your destination is on your left.” The GPS announced her arrival and Lacey flinched. Then she cringed. Apparently, she only talked big.

The GPS repeated the instructions, and Lacey flicked her blinker on. The next second, the car behind her jammed the Beat’s rear bumper at full force.

The impact wrenched Lacey’s neck as her head whipped back into her headrest, but she felt nothing because the looming dark abyss coming at her took precedence.

Crunches and squeals resounded as she slammed on the brakes to fight back with the car plowing her to the edge of the road. Her car turned to the right under the pressure from behind. Then before the edge neared, the strain lessened up. The guy backed off, but probably only to save himself from going over with her.

The Beat was already in a full spin. Coupled with the messy roads, the world for Lacey kept swinging round and round as she careened toward the unknown.

She gripped the wheel with one hand as she downshifted. Her headlights came back around to show a drop-off into a black void that would most likely send her down some ravine to be lost until spring.

Maybe never found at all.

Go left. The familiar voice of her brother came from the recesses of her mind. After years of his training with go-carts when she was ten years old, and cars at sixteen, she knew exactly what he would say.

One hard crank of her wheel pulled the car out of the spin and sent her back around, but unfortunately, it sent her in a skid in the opposite direction, straight at the thick, impenetrable tree line she’d been searching through before. The one with no opening, as far as she had been able to tell—and the thick tree trunks with their tentacles of bared branches coming at her said things hadn’t changed. But her headlights showed something was different than before.

Where there was no sign of life before, now a dog ran straight for her, emerging from the forest.

A quick glance behind it and she caught sight of the driveway she’d been looking for. The sharp angle of Captain Wade Spencer’s property was invisible to passersby, but his golden-red Labrador retriever had revealed its opening to her now as her car took aim to gun it down.

Her brake pedal plastered to the floor. The tires’ skid locked their direction on their target. Lacey could do nothing but cry out to God to intervene and save the dog barreling forward.

As if by command, the animal abruptly came to a stop and sat—directly in the car’s path.

“No!” Lacey shouted. That was not what she meant by intervening! At least if the dog was still running, there was a chance of it moving out of the way before impact. Now things could not get worse.

Tears blurred Lacey’s vision, and wails of protest erupted from her lips. She did not want to kill this dog.

Then things got worse.

In addition to the sitting dog, a man now raced out from behind the trees, straight for the canine.

Lacey screamed louder than ever. The skid moved as if in slow motion. The whole incident couldn’t have taken more than a minute from the first bump to this final skid, but in that minute she saw the devastation her impulsiveness was about to cause. If only she had thought this trip through. If only she had been more like the wise Adelaide Phillips.

If only.

Lacey closed her eyes, unable to watch the outcome to her choices, a prayer of forgiveness on her lips and regret in her heart.

* * *

Head. Check.

Feet. Check.

Arms. Check.

Wade Spencer lay in a cold, snow-filled ditch between the trees where he’d landed when he saved his dog from the out-of-control driver. All was negative with his self-exam, a routine that four tours overseas had formed into a habit. His next exam consisted of judging the well-being of Promise, his faithful dog.

Wade lifted his hand to look her over. He burrowed his fingers through her snow-covered fur for injuries. She jumped to all four paws without any problem and shook off the white flakes with little effort. His battle buddy would live to serve another day.

Now, as for the driver, he should be serving, too.

Time.

Wade gained his feet and trudged through the knee-deep snow of the ditch. He stomped up onto the road where the car spun out and came to a halt—right where Promise had been sitting under his command.

If Wade had known a car had been aiming for her, he would have commanded Promise to run, not sit. Out of the hundred and fifty commands the dog knew, any of them would have been better.

At the top of the driveway, he’d heard the car spinning out. His mind had gone to one of the many dark places of his tours where mishaps had been deadly. His feet had responsively set out to be of help in this mishap. Promise had kept up at her place beside him, but she must have thought they were playing, because she’d quickly raced ahead of him. All Wade could do was yell for her to sit. Being the good service dog she was, she did—right in front of the car.

Wade faced the hood of the heap of rust now and heard the words, “You have arrived at your destination” coming from the mechanical voice of the driver’s GPS. The message nearly knocked him over again.

The driver meant to stay?

“I don’t think so.” Wade approached the driver’s side. “This is not your destination. You can keep right on driving.”

A woman in her late twenties sat stock-still behind the wheel, her window blown out from the tree branch she’d collided with. She wore a jean coat and a knitted cap, and her long hair, smooth as liquid chocolate, spilled out from beneath it. The GPS repeated its words again, but all Wade focused on was the terror in the woman’s saucer-size eyes.

Wade pulled the car handle and swung the door wide; the tinkling of falling glass fizzled his tension a bit. The cabin light illuminated the fear in the woman’s face, a pair of brown eyes shimmered and a tear spilled down her blanched cheek. He let the rest of his anger go on a grunt. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, but her lips trembled in silence. She squeaked out, “Are you? Or the dog? Did I k-kill the dog?”

Wade gave two sharp whistles, and Promise sidled up beside him with her tail wagging, her bushy eyebrows bouncing up and down as was her typical inquisitive way. “See for yourself.”

A wail escaped the woman’s lips, followed by a bucket of tears.

Wade sighed and reached for her hand to pull her out.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I didn’t see... The car was in a skid.”

“Your South Carolina plates give away your knowledge of the winters up here in New Hampshire, so I’ll cut you some slack, but—”

“And someone was following me. They nearly killed me when they banged into me.”

“Banged into you?” Wade searched up and down the empty street. He dropped her hand to step to the back end of the car. The dent proved her statement. “Which way did they go?”

“I don’t know,” she cried. “I was too busy staying on the road and not going over the ledge.”

“Ledge?” Wade snapped his attention from the dark road to the very ledge that had brought the endless tunnel of darkness to his whole life. An image of another woman, his mother, dead, her neck twisted, flashed in his mind. Just one of the many images of dead people his mind remembered on a daily basis. His breathing picked up.

“Yes, the ledge. I thought I was going over it for sure.” She pointed to it then grabbed her head, pulling the cap off in her anxiety. “I can still see it coming closer and closer.”

Wade nearly grabbed his own head, knowing firsthand the terror she spoke of.

Except, he’d actually gone over—and lived to remember every horrifying detail.

“I need to go,” he said quickly, needing to get away. “You need to go. I can’t help you. Side, Promise.”

He didn’t need to command. Promise already stood by. Wade grabbed the bandanna tied to her collar. She should have her leash on, he admonished himself for his gaffe. The leash was his lifeline to her. Through the leash, Promise could get a read on his physiological well-being. She could sense his heart rate just by his tugs and pulls. But he’d left her leash at the house in their rush to get some fresh air away from his sister. Now he willingly rushed back to Roni’s never-ending pleas for him to retire from the military and move back to New Hampshire. He’d endure her plights.

Anything but reliving that crash.

Wade’s hands trembled, and vibrations shook his whole body. His hypervigilant state of mind brought on fierce shakes that had nothing to do with the frigid temperature and everything to do with the injury deep inside him. It was an injury no one could see, except for the few effects that showed on the outside.

“Wait!” the woman called on his heels. Wade picked up his steps.

“I’ll call the police for you when I get to the house,” he said, hoping that would suffice.

“Please, stop. I can’t go anywhere until I speak with Captain Wade Spencer.”

Wade tripped in the snow at her words, but the squeezing of his chest still propelled him forward. He wondered what this woman could want with him. Did one of his men need him? As captain, he needed to be there for them, even when he couldn’t function himself.

“Please,” she pleaded. “I can barely breathe, never mind have my faculties about me to operate a car. I really need to speak with Captain Spencer. Are you him?”

He walked on, calling out, “What do you want with Wade Spencer?”

“My brother sent me to see him.”

“Who’s your brother?”

“Jeff Phillips.”

“Liar.” Wade whipped around to face her, now ready to fight instead of take flight. In a hypervigilant state, either worked.

Promise didn’t miss a beat. She sat at attention by his side, eyes sharp, body poised for her next instructions.

“I’m not lying. He told me to come.” The woman’s lips trembled.

“He’s dead, so he couldn’t have told you anything.”

Her face crumpled right before him. Her soft features grew taut. She grabbed at her chest, and he wondered if she felt what he experienced. He hoped not. He didn’t wish the debilitation of PTSD on anyone.

She dropped her hand to her stomach and wrapped it around her midriff. “I don’t think I’ll ever fully accept those words. Jeff’s been dead for three weeks, and it still doesn’t compute.” She swiped a palm across her eyes. “Can you just tell me where I can find Wade Spencer?”

Wade felt his hands shaking. Promise noticed, too. As was her special way, she pushed her soft and firm head into his palm. He latched on like a drowning victim, digging his fingers deep. A few strokes across her fur and air slowly filtered into his lungs again. The vise in his chest released a bit of its pressure, but his clenched jaw stayed in its grip.

“I’m Wade,” he admitted between his teeth, still petting Promise.

“Oh, I’m so glad I made it.” She sniffed. “I was beginning to think you didn’t exist. That my brother made you up.”

“I exist.” Barely. His chest constricted again.

“My brother’s death wasn’t an accident. I just know it. The army passed me off from one official to another, and they all have the same lame story. A mechanical issue on an engine he was working on.” She sputtered as if the words made her laugh. “My brother, mechanic extraordinaire, had a mechanical malfunction that blew up in his face. What a joke.”

Wade’s whole body rocked from a tremble, starting from his feet straight up to his shoulders. “It’s no joke. It’s the truth.” Promise whined, and Wade knew it was because he was breathing heavy. “It’s best if you keep your nose out of where it doesn’t belong and go home.”

Wade left her there with her mouth agape. He needed to get away before he lost all control over his body and writhed on the ground before her. Besides, he didn’t believe the lame story the military offered about her brother, either, and that meant what she didn’t know could save her life.

“Please...” She was back to playing his shadow. “Jeff was killed on purpose, wasn’t he? Just tell me, Mr. Spencer. Who killed him?”

Wade halted and spun around. “I did!” His chest heaved up and down. “And unless you want to die, too, you’ll do as I say and go home.” If that didn’t make her disappear, nothing would.

The swishing of her shoes in the snow didn’t follow him this time. He walked alone with his service dog. At the bend he gave one last look and found the driveway empty except for the footprints she’d left behind.

Mission accomplished.

He continued on his way, but before he could take two more steps, a blast shot into the night. Wade flew to the ground, hunting for cover like so many times before. He sought the dark forest in all directions for a sniper as the gunshot echoed back at him through the trees.

The terrors of combat banged into Wade’s head just as the reverberating sound of the explosion had thrown him further than to the ground. It had sent him back to battles he wished to forget but knew he never would. No longer did he feel the frozen snow beneath his face and hands, but instead it was the hot dusty sand of his tours overseas that took control of his mind.

Wade reached behind him for the gun in his waist holster as he peered up and around looking for the enemy. The snowcapped trees brought him back to reality.

No desert.

No sniper.

Instead, it was Jeff Phillips’s sister who’d come to hunt him down.

He could only think that it was the woman who’d taken the shot at him. She was the only one around, and he had just told her he killed her brother. It made sense she’d take him out now.

Another report wrenched through the air. Immediately, the sound of a car speeding away followed. Both sources came from below at the road and not around him—or at him.

Phillips’s kid sister wasn’t shooting at him after all, he surmised. But if he wasn’t wearing the bull’s-eye, then who was?

She was.

Wade jumped to his feet and shot off back down the driveway. Promise raced along beside him. He would have liked to tell Promise to get to the girl’s side, but his dog was trained to assist him, not anyone else.

Snow flew up in a cloud around them. Down the road around the bend, the woman’s car lights still beamed. Her driver’s door stood wide and the car was where she’d left it. But she was nowhere in sight.

A quick survey bounced his vision from tree to tree, ditch to ditch, rock to rock. And there he located her, crouched low behind a boulder.

Wade rushed to the rock and dropped to his knees. He reholstered his gun behind him as he studied the way she held the shoulder of her jean coat in severe silence. No screams. No agony of pain. Just startled shock before cognition filtered in.

She’d been shot.

He removed her stiff, sticky hand from where a dark blotch of blood blossomed. At the same time he scanned the area behind the rock. Had the gunman been in the car that drove away? Or was there a second one waiting in the trees to get another shot off when the woman emerged from her hiding place? With the darkness, Wade couldn’t be sure. But he also couldn’t leave her here to bleed to death. The thin jean coat’s fabric was shredded on the arm, but still he couldn’t tell if the shot had been taken in her arm or upper chest. He wouldn’t know until he got her to the house.

The trip called for a calculated plan of action. The driver’s-side window of her car was blown out, but the car should still move. Wade judged the distance to the Beat and made the decision that he could drive her up to the house a lot faster than run her up. Plus, he didn’t need to give the shooter more target practice if he was still in the area.

With his plan set, Wade untied Promise’s bandanna and stuffed it into the woman’s coat. “Hold this there while I lift you.”

“Get away from me,” she said, pushing at him with barely enough strength to shoo a fly.

“All in due time, Ms. Phillips.” He lifted her and made the run for the waiting vehicle.

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you! You killed my brother!”

He ignored her protests and carried out his self-imposed orders. “Promise, to the house,” he commanded the dog. Wade ducked his upper body over the woman’s and charged for the car. He placed her quickly but gently through to the passenger seat from the driver’s side. No more bullets sprayed them, and Wade took that to mean the shooter had been a drive-by and not in the woods. But his plan of action never lost momentum. Mere seconds went by before he had the car in gear and speeding up the inclined drive through the woods that led to the main house.

“I said I don’t want to go anywhere with you. I hate you!” Her head dropped back and he could see her jaw clench. She’d yet to even whimper in pain.

“Hate me all you want. I’m fine with that. It tells me you still have some fight left in you.”

“You’re right, and I’m going to make you pay for what you did.”

They reached the house, and Wade took the circle around the empty fountain, shut down for the season. He pulled up to the front entrance and had barely put the car in Park before he jumped out and ran around to the passenger side. The fool girl already had the door open, trying to exit the car. He scooped her up again, ignoring her struggles up the steps.

“Put me down!” Now she cried, but not from pain. He knew the sound of guilty pain. She hated herself more for having to depend on the man who’d caused her brother’s death.

“You have no choice but to let me help you now, Ms. Phillips. You’re on my family’s property.” He turned the knob to the double front doors and kicked them wide. “That makes me responsible for you, and there’s no way I’m letting another person die because of me.”

TWO

A woman who had a few years on Lacey’s twenty-seven and a lot more fashion sense rushed down a long foyer. A green silk scarf wrapped around her neck fluttered behind her along with her flowing red hair. Lacey saw glitz and glamour racing toward her, or maybe it was the crystal chandelier sparkling down on the lady. Either way, Lacey didn’t care who she was as long as she wasn’t Wade Spencer.

Lacey pushed at the man still holding her in his arms. She moaned through the burn at her shoulder but kept her face averted, unwilling to give him even a glint of attention.

“Roni,” he called over her head. “She took a bullet. I need to lay her down.”

Surprise quickly washed away to efficiency on the fancy lady’s face. “It’ll be faster to use Cora’s room down here than to take her upstairs. Follow me.”

They stormed through two living rooms and entered a huge dining room with more crystal bling. An older woman was setting the table with white-and-gold china. Her maid outfit said she wasn’t the mother of the house. She nearly dropped the plate when they stormed through.

“Cora, we’re using your room,” Roni said as she passed down the long table. “Call 911 and tell them someone’s been shot.”

A shocked Cora put the plate down and reached for her phone in her apron pocket. As Lacey was carried past her, she said, “God bless you, my dear.” Lacey could hear her talking to the dispatcher before they hit an enormous stainless-steel kitchen. She wondered where the bedrooms were if they deemed this course faster. The immensity of the place didn’t constitute a house but a mansion.

It would appear her brother’s killer wasn’t hurting.

“What’s her name?” Roni called over her shoulder.

“Ms. Phillips,” Wade said.

“Lacey,” Lacey answered in unison. “And I don’t need him speaking for me.”

“Whoa.” The woman shot a glance over her shoulder, the arches of her red sculpted eyebrows nearly reaching the twelve-foot-high ceilings. “Did you shoot this woman, Wade?”

“Of course not,” he answered.

With a look of doubt, Roni led them to the next room. “Lay her on the bed. Gently. Good. Now, where’s your gun?”

“I said I didn’t shoot her,” Wade retorted over Lacey.

“And I said, where’s your gun?” Roni spoke clearly and forcefully right back at him from the other side.

Wade clamped his jaw tight, but in the next second he reached behind his back and withdrew a .38 caliber from the waistband. He dropped it into the bedside-table drawer with an “are you happy now?” look.

Lacey sensed the argument going on above her was a common one between the two of them. For some reason, Roni didn’t want Wade carrying. Did Roni know about Wade’s past offenses?

Before Lacey could ask, pain exploded from her arm. Roni brought Lacey’s coat down the injured arm.

Lacey hissed in response, then through gritted teeth said, “It doesn’t matter if he carries or not, you know. He goes for a more secretive and calculated way of bumping people off.” She sneered at the man on her right and got her first real glimpse of him in full light.

Jet-black hair in a military cut, electric-blue eyes in a well-shaven face, a dimple on the right cheek even without a smile.

“He knows it’s not other people I’m worried about,” Roni said, pulling Lacey’s attention back to her.

Lacey grew quiet at her remark. If not other people, then who?

Himself?

She took in the six-foot-tall man. His face gave nothing away, but his muscles beneath his black T-shirt tensed and shook. Was it from more than adrenaline?

Snip...snip...

Lacey shot a look back at Roni. She was cutting the sleeve of Lacey’s cotton sweater, starting from the wrist up.

“Hey! Can you make him leave first?”

Roni cast her matching blue eyes over to Wade. “I’ve bandaged enough wounds. Why don’t you check on Cora.”

“Not a bullet wound, you haven’t. I know what to do. You don’t. I’m not going anywhere until I’ve assessed the injury.”

Lacey cut in, “Except I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

He crossed his strong arms at his chest as his reply. His stolid face expressed no emotion as flawlessly as a Westminster guard on duty. The idea of the wolf guarding the henhouse nearly made her laugh. Then Lacey screamed out in pain as Roni’s fingers met wounded flesh on her upper arm.

As Wade leaned across Lacey to inspect the area, his woodsy aftershave lingered in her face. She inhaled, then held her breath, partly to not smell any more of him, partly to keep in what she already had. She cringed at her softness. So what if he smelled good. It didn’t change the fact that he had blood on his hands.

After a quick nod, Wade’s gaze dropped down from above her. Mere inches away, he said, “You’ll live.”

“Don’t look so happy about it.”

He didn’t even blink at her remark, but he did slowly pull away. “You said someone had been following you. When did you notice them?”

Lacey sobered as she remembered her drive in. Roni’s opening of the first-aid kit became a focal point. “When I entered Norcastle. It was when they took the turnoff to come up here with me that I thought it strange two people would be traveling this far out at the same time. But they didn’t try to kill me until...” Lacey glanced at Wade. Maybe the incident had something to do with this man, and that was why he was so concerned. He was trying to cover his tracks.

“Continue.”

Lacey hesitated sharing any more while being unprotected in the man’s house. “Can’t this wait for the police?”

“I’ll need to give them as many details as I can. They’ll need to know how to proceed.”

“What other information would they possibly need other than someone took shots at me?”

“Like why you think they took shots at you. Now tell me, they didn’t try to kill you until when?”

Lacey lifted her chin. Since when did she hold back? “Fine. They plowed into me when I put my blinker on to turn into your driveway. Are you sure they weren’t friends of yours? Or rather, enemies? You must have a long list of them. I know I’m on it.”

“Our driveway?” Roni piped up. “And what enemies? What is she talking about, Wade?”

Wade raised a hand to silence Roni. “Just get her cleaned up. We’ll talk later.” He walked to the window and peered out.

Or perhaps he was looking for those enemies he refused to talk about.

He closed the blinds and stepped back against the wall. His folded arms at his chest exposed the strong, lean muscles that had lifted her with ease moments before, but now walled him off from everyone in the room.

The man was hiding something.

A stinging pain pulled Lacey’s attention back to her arm with a sharp inhale.

Roni swabbed her wound with an alcohol wipe. “It’s a bad graze. It’ll most likely leave a scar. But I’ve always said there’s nothing wrong with scars.” She reached up with one hand in a latex glove that Lacey hadn’t even seen her put on. Blood covered the fingers.

Her blood.

As Lacey’s stomach dropped at the sight, Roni reached for the scarf at her neck without thought to soiling it. She pulled it free to reveal what lay beneath it.

Scars.

Puckered and mutilated skin gave way to a fiery incident that took Lacey’s mind off her own wound to question Roni’s.

“What happened?”

“A car accident when we were kids.”

“That’s enough, Roni.” Wade gave a single shake of his head to end their conversation. A dare to defy him went out.

The heavy feeling of secrecy filled the room. It seemed Wade Spencer’s life revolved around more than one. But then when one of them was murder, it was only natural to have a lifetime of other cover-ups.

“More secrets, Mr.—” She stopped because her attention was pulled from the granitelike man against the wall down to his legs.

He literally shook in his combat boots. The man may think he stood impassive, but his own body turned traitor on him and gave his guilty secrets away. Before she could call him out on his guilt, the dog placed her paw on his thigh and pressed her head into his arm, nudging harder and harder until his hand reached to pet her head. He moved over her fur, first slowly, then with more purpose. When Lacey looked back at his legs, they had returned to a state of stability.

The dog wasn’t a typical pet, she realized.

“How’d she do that?” Lacey asked, not pretending what she saw didn’t really happen. Her mother would say she was being rude for speaking out of turn, but Lacey didn’t feel like being proper at the moment. She’d just escaped death and was looking at the man responsible for her brother’s.

“You ask too many questions,” Wade replied. “That’s probably what got you into this mess.”

“Wade, knock it off,” Roni cut in. “Promise is a service dog. The army is experimenting with trained dogs to help soldiers with post-traumatic stress disorder. They sent my brother home with her to help him—”

“I said, that’s enough!” Wade retreated from the room on a pivot. His tense, muscled back turned the corner of the kitchen and disappeared.

Now Lacey understood Roni’s concern about Wade carrying a weapon.

And she was pushing him too far with her questions.

Lacey watched Roni’s eyelashes fall over her eyes in sadness. “I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds. My mother has tried to teach me to be a lady, but I’ve yet to live up to any of her ideals, all ten thousand of them. But it’s not for lack of trying. I really am sorry.”

Roni smiled weakly but accepted Lacey’s apology.

“So Wade is your brother?”

“Yes.” The fashionable woman taped the bandage up like a pro, not a bit of queasiness or whining like some sissy girl. Proof never to judge a book by its cover. Roni approached a dresser and pulled out an oversize blouse with tiny yellow flowers.

Lacey cringed. “Cora’s?”

“She won’t mind, and it’ll be loose enough to put on with ease.”

“I suppose, but I don’t do clothes with flowers.”

“What’s wrong with flowers?” Roni asked as she removed the rest of Lacey’s trashed sweater and carefully inserted her arms through the sleeves.

“Nothing’s wrong with flowers for some girls, like my mother. And maybe you, but the guys at the racetrack would never let me live it down.”

Roni’s hands stilled with her task. “You race?”

“Sometimes. It can be hard to be taken seriously as a girl behind the wheel.”

“Tell me about it,” Roni agreed with a smirk. “I’m co-owner of a track and it can be tough. What do you race?”

“I’m in the process of reconstructing a Beat roadster for my next car. Or I was up until I smashed at the end of your driveway. I’m more of a spotter for my brother...” Lacey’s voice caught at the mention of Jeffrey. “It was easier when he was home. Without him to vouch for me, I spend most of my days in the shop working on the cars instead. He was my biggest supporter. And now he’s...gone.”

“Where’d he go?” Roni fitted the buttons up the front.

“Army.”

Her hands stilled. “When does he come home next?”

“He’s not coming home. Ever.” Lacey felt her lips tremble as Roni put the words together.

She dropped back. “Oh, Lacey, I’m so sorry.”

Roni sat on the side of the bed, her eyes filled. She gave a quick look toward the door. Lacey knew thoughts of her own brother filled her mind. As much as Lacey wanted to hate the woman for being grateful for not losing Wade when Jeff was gone forever, especially since Wade had a part in Jeff’s death, as he’d admitted to, she couldn’t hate Roni.

“It’s okay if you want to thank God for bringing your brother home. It won’t upset me. From one sister to another, I get it. If Jeffrey had survived, I would be jumping for joy, no matter who watched.” She looked at her injured arm. “And I definitely wouldn’t have been here getting shot at on Christmas Eve. I guess I shouldn’t have come. Once again, my mother was right, and I failed to heed her wise teachings. Why is thinking things through so hard?”

“I don’t understand.” Roni tilted her head.

Lacey shrugged. “I disappoint my mama pretty much every day. I’ll never be like her and think like her.”

“No. I mean, how would your brother coming home from the army have prevented you from being shot?”

“Oh, easy. Because I wouldn’t have come here looking for his killer.”

Roni’s long lashes lifted high. “His killer is here?”

Wade appeared in the doorway with an older man, halting Lacey from explaining further about Wade’s involvement.

Lacey considered blurting out the truth anyway. She looked at the men, but before she opened her mouth, her mother’s annoying voice filled her mind. Think before you speak, Lacey, dear. Her thick Southern drawl with its inflection of disappointment came through loud and clear.

Lacey held her tongue and looked at Wade. His searing eyes said he waited for her to make her decision, too. Would she take the opportunity to spill his secret in front of his sister and whoever the older man beside him was? Their dad, probably.

Seconds ticked by as the three people stared at the poor wounded girl.

Poor being the operative word. Wade Spencer was loaded. Which meant he could buy his way out of any case brought against him. She didn’t stand a chance of getting her answers from Mr. Secrets the legit way.

Her hand went to her neck and fiddled with the key clasped there beneath the flowered blouse. She’d put it on her chain when she removed it from her brother’s envelope yesterday. This key would unlock the answers she came for.

And Wade Spencer would be the one to give them to her.

Lacey turned away from Wade to answer Roni. “Jeff’s killer is around somewhere. He can’t hide forever.”

* * *

“What a way to spend Christmas Eve, wouldn’t you say, Miss Phillips?” The older gentleman Lacey had thought was Wade’s father, but turned out to be an uncle, entered the room again. Wade and Roni were seeing the lawmen out, so that left her alone for the time being.

“It’s Lacey, and I’m sorry I messed up your holiday. You must think I’m so rude coming here tonight.”

When the police had questioned her earlier, Wade’s uncle had leaned against the wall and heard why she’d made this trip. She’d left out the part of Wade’s confession, but told them about her brother’s so-called accident in the army and how she’d come to talk to her brother’s friend.

The uncle stepped up to where Lacey sat on the edge of the bed. He offered his hand for a warm shake. “Clay Spencer. The kids’ dad, Bobby, was my little brother. And don’t you worry about what we think. You’re hurting. We all feel your pain and frustration, especially with your car being taken in to be processed as evidence. You probably won’t make it back for Christmas dinner with your family.”

The realization lifted her chin. The older man offered a sweet, supportive smile as though he understood her dilemma, but he also wore a very nice suit with a festive holiday tie and a red silk handkerchief in his breast pocket. He’d come here tonight to spend Christmas Eve with his family, and she had intruded.

Lacey cringed at her impulsiveness to jump into her car and head north without any thought to what day she would be arriving on Wade Spencer’s doorstep. What had she thought he would do? Welcome her in to celebrate with his family?

No. The fact was she didn’t think at all. At least nothing but what she’d come for.

“You stay as long as you need to,” the uncle invited warmly.

Lacey gave a weak laugh. “You seem to have a better grasp at this hospitality thing than this Southern girl does.”

The man smiled big. “I do love a good party, and the more the merrier. But seriously, the kids have plenty of room. Plus, I don’t think Wade’s going to let you go anywhere tonight. He told the chief of police he would take care of getting you home. He feels responsible for you since this incident happened on his family’s property.”

“This gigantic place is his family’s?”

“Technically his and Veronica’s, Roni’s, now. They lost their parents years ago. Only Roni lives here, though. Wade lives on base in Virginia. He’s only home for the holidays. I used to live here after their parents died, but once Veronica was of age, I moved to the empty caretaker’s house on the pond, a little ways into the property, then eventually I moved into town. Let’s just say Veronica and I don’t always get along, even in ten thousand square feet. Even on thousands of acres. Moving off the property was best. Besides, I like it better in town. Great house for social gatherings with my friends. And speaking of friends, I have a few in influential places who might be able to help you uncover some information about your brother.”

“What kind of friends?”

“Lawyers, politicians, PIs, you name it. One can never have too many circles, I say. I’m sure one of them could look into the possibility of a cover-up.”

A spark of excitement ignited but quickly died out. What if those people were Wade’s friends? Who would they be loyal to then? “No, I’ve talked to enough official people to know they’re not much help to me, but thank you.”

“Just let me know if you change your mind and want to talk privately with someone. I can make it happen.”

“For now, I just want to talk to Wade. I’ll wait here for him. I don’t dare try to find him in this place. I’m directionally challenged and might get lost.”

Clay laughed. “You don’t know the half of it. Bobby married well, but his wife, Meredith, was also a bit paranoid. When I moved in after the accident to care for the kids, I found all these secret passages she had built. Creepy, for sure.”

Lacey checked the adjoining room and saw no one approached. She was really only looking for Mr. Secrets before she asked for more pieces about his past. She would need all the details she could round up. “Roni’s scars. She mentioned something about an accident causing them. Is that how their parents died, too?”

“Yes, it was a horrifying accident. Just a horrible accident. Bobby and Meredith perished, as well as their eighteen-month-old son Luke.”

Lacey frowned at the thought of the baby dying, too.

“Veronica was scarred in the fire and would have died as well if Wade hadn’t pulled her out and away from the car before it fully exploded. They’d gone over the ledge on the road out front.”

“Ledge?” Now Lacey sounded the way Wade had when she’d told him she’d nearly gone over it. All snooping came to a halt. What was left of her blood ran cold. Wade and his family had gone over the same ledge she had just brushed death with. “When?” was all she could ask.

“It’s been twenty-eight years now. Hard to believe, but Wade was eight and Veronica was three. He got her to safety, but being this far out from town and so far from the house, there was nothing else he could do for the rest of his family.”

“Of course not. I doubt an adult could, never mind a child.” Lacey thought this was possibly why Wade had told her to go home when she said she’d nearly gone over the ledge. It had probably brought back horrible memories of his accident. Had that been why he’d told her he killed Jeff? To get rid of her before she saw him fall apart? His bouncing legs could have been an indication that the crash affected his PTSD just as much as his years in combat did. “And you stepped in to raise them.”

“Moved right in. There was no reason to take them from the only home they knew. I also helped with the business Bobby and Meredith started. It seemed only right to keep that going for the kids.”

“The racetrack?”

“Spencer Speedway. How’d you know?”

“Roni mentioned it. My family owns a reconstruction race-car shop, so that’s probably why Jeff and Wade hit it off as friends. They had racing in common.”

“I don’t think so. Wade wants nothing to do with racing. He asked me to stay on as CEO for him so he could leave town and be an army man at eighteen. There had to be something else that brought them together, because it couldn’t be racing.”

“Huh, I just figured.” She shrugged, then inhaled sharply from the pain.

Clay gave a slow whistle. “Painkillers kicking in yet?”

“Slowly.”

“Here, you should have that in a sling.” Clay withdrew his red handkerchief from his suit-coat breast pocket and knotted it into a quick sling. Gently he placed her injured arm in it. “That should hold it still and cause less pain. You up for a walk?”

Lacey stood from the bedside and tested her head. No light-headedness, a good sign she’d live to ride another day. “Where are we off to?”

“Just to the garage. You being a track rat and all, I thought you might like to see the collection we have in the showcase.”

“Showcase? That sounds intriguing. What might I see in your showcase? Any roadsters?”

Clay broke into his big comforting grin again. “Right this way. Your chariot awaits.” He took his suit coat off and draped it over Lacey’s shoulders. He led her through the kitchen, but in the other direction from where she’d entered. Out the door and across a snow-covered patio, a glass-enclosed building stood. One flick and the structure illuminated. The gray-painted concrete floor shined so clean and bright one could eat off it. A priceless collection of cars from vintage to modern were parked at various angles. Clay or Roni obviously had added a few, like the stunning cherry-red Ferrari F40 front and center.

“If only Jeff could see this...” She stuttered on the ripping pain through her chest that usurped the one in her arm tenfold. She wondered when she would stop forgetting her brother was dead.

“Are you well, Lacey?” Clay asked as he searched her face.

“I’ve been better, but it’s got nothing to do with my arm.” She blew out a breath. “So where’s that roadster?”

“Right over here.” He led her around back to where a small black British roadster sparkled clean and restored.

“Do you ever take her out? On the track, I mean.”

“The speedway offers certain days of the year when people can unleash their babies. Come spring, you must give her a spin.”

“Me? Is she yours?”

“Technically, she belonged to Meredith. Like I said, Bobby married well. Meredith’s father gave them the land for the track as a wedding gift as well as this side of the mountain for a home. But now the kids own it all. Including the cars you see here. Veronica drives them, but Wade doesn’t touch them.”

“So he doesn’t like racing or cars?”

“Hey, Questions! What are you doing out here?” Wade stood in the entrance, a sandy camouflage army coat half on, half off. His chest rose and fell as though he’d run out to her. “Are you crazy? You were just shot at. You up for another round?”

Clay stepped up with his hands raised. “Don’t yell at her. It was my idea. We got to talking about cars, and I thought...well, I guess I didn’t think at all.”

“The conversation’s over,” Wade said to his uncle, but his eyes locked on Lacey.

“I’ll just go in and see if Veronica and Cora need some help with dinner.” Clay escaped the room without a reply from anyone.

“Hey, Secrets, you didn’t have to be so rude,” Lacey spouted. “Your uncle was just trying to take my mind off my pain. What are you so hushed up about anyway?”

“The walls have ears, and you never know who’s listening. You want to know what happened to Jeff? That’s what happened to him.”

Her first clue had come when she least expected it. Lacey snapped to attention, nearly sputtering when she asked, “What was he saying? Who was listening?”

Wade’s eyes jumped from window to window as though he was trying to see out into the darkness beyond the glass. If Lacey hadn’t been shot at and nearly pushed over a cliff tonight, she would say this man was paranoid and uttering conspiracy-theory nonsense. But under the circumstances, she looked out the windows, too.

“I’m sending you home on a plane tomorrow,” he said. “You are not to come back. Ever. Live your life. It’s what your brother would want you to do.”

“Shows you what you know. My brother left me something with a note with your name on it. That tells me I’m doing exactly what he would want me to do. Find the answers.”

“What’d he leave you?”

“This.” Lacey reached into her blouse and pulled out a long chain with the small key dangling from it.

All in the same breath, Wade yanked her arm toward him as the glass around them shattered into millions of pieces.

Lacey landed on a thud and realized it was Wade’s hard chest. He’d brought her down with him in a maneuver that had saved her life. It was as though he knew she’d made herself a target...again. She looked up to see the shattered windshield of the British roadster behind her, right where she’d been standing.

Another blast and more shattering deafened her ears. Lacey covered her head with her arms as Wade moved her to the floor. He dragged himself along the concrete on his elbows to the wall and a safe. After a few turns of the lock, the door opened to show rows of keys. He grabbed a set and shimmied back to her as Promise came through the door, crouched low on her haunches, as well. As soon as she saw her handler, she took up her post beside him.

“Stay low and get to the Ferrari,” he ordered.

Lacey followed without complaint.

Bullets came from both the front and back. Car windows exploded around them. Whoever the goons were, they had the house surrounded and didn’t plan on leaving anything or anyone in one piece.

Wade opened the door and Lacey crawled through, keeping her body down as she crossed over the driver’s seat. Promise found her place on the floor of the front seat, and Wade got behind the wheel. As soon as he had the car started, he had it in gear and flying out through the broken glass.

Bullets hit the car, but he tore down the driveway and out onto the road in a flash. He couldn’t have picked a better vehicle, Lacey thought. It went sixty miles an hour in 3.9 seconds. They would be out of these woods in no time.

Except when they hit the road, Wade actually slowed down.

He reached into one of the many pockets on his army combat coat and pulled out a cell phone. One tap of a number dialed someone, and immediately Roni could be heard yelling.

Wade stopped her and said, “We’re okay. Stay in the safe room and call the police. Don’t worry about us. You got this, Roni.” He clicked off and pocketed the phone.

He drove in silence, obviously not willing to elaborate about what a safe room was...and why he had one. Lacey could only figure it was one of those secret passages Clay had mentioned to her. At least Roni, Clay and Cora would be safe, if the room lived up to its title. That only left her and Wade out in the open.

She searched through the rear window, but it remained dark and empty. Even still, she asked, “Can’t you go a little faster?”

“It’s not always about speed,” he replied.

She sputtered. “Yes, it is.”

After a quick, tacit look her way, he went back to giving the road his full attention, conversation over.

As they passed through the quiet little town of Norcastle, Lacey noticed the sparkling colored lights strung from some of the old storefronts and homes. In her nervous ride into town earlier, she hadn’t paid much attention. Now she speculated with the huge factories along the river that Norcastle had once been an old mill town. The mill buildings looked to be lit up as apartments now. The town obviously had seen some reconstruction after a period of low economic times, but they seemed to be flourishing better now. Before Lacey could ask about it, Wade took a turn for the interstate.

“Where are we going?”

“Virginia,” he answered, short but not sweet.

“What’s in Virginia? Is that where the musclemen are from?”

“No. It’s where I’m from. And it’s also where the locker is that your key, or I should say my key, belongs to. Buckle up. We have a long drive.”

Lacey peered over at the speedometer and rolled her eyes. “At the speed you’re going, you’re right. This could take forever.”

THREE

“Merry Christmas.” Wade pulled away from the drive-through doughnut shop, passing over a steaming paper cup to Lacey. Her long dark lashes blinked over her sleep-fogged eyes as she roused from her slumber with a wide yawn. She looked at the cup in his hand quizzically. “Coffee,” he said. “Black. I figured that’s the way you liked it.”

She arched a dark eyebrow at his presumption of her drink tastes, but quickly unhooked her arm from his uncle’s makeshift sling so she could grab the warm cup in both hands. She averted her gaze to the passenger window while she sipped. Her deep sigh proved he’d been dead on about the not-so-dainty Lacey’s coffee tastes.

“Thank you,” she mumbled after another sip, her deep Southern voice resonating through the cabin. Such a strong voice for a small woman, he thought. But it was good that she was small. As it was, her legs were plastered to the door because Promise and her seventy-pound frame took up most of the confined space. Wade was glad to see Lacey give the dog room, even if that meant an uncomfortable ride for herself. “And I guess I should say Merry Christmas to you, too. I suppose this is not how you planned on spending the holiday, or your military leave, for that matter. Not that I care.” She turned his way, her chin lifted. “Because I don’t.”

With his view to the road, he hoped she couldn’t see him suppress a smile. “Of course not. Why would you? But let me set the record straight, just so you don’t lose any more sleep over my missed holiday, while you’re not caring, of course. They’re not my plans. They’re my sister’s. I’d just as soon have stayed on base. So my plans didn’t work out anyway this year.”

“I always say making plans is useless,” she said, taking another sip. “Just go unless God tells you no. That’s my motto.”

Wade huffed at her silly remark. “No offense, Lacey, but I don’t think your motto’s working for you.”

“Offense taken. You don’t know anything about me.” She took off the handkerchief and tossed it at him. He picked it up off his lap and stuffed it into his combat jacket’s bottom-right pocket. Apparently, he’d touched on some nerve, but why stop there?

“I know all I need to know about you. You came north on Christmas Eve with nothing but a key and not a thought to what you might be venturing into. You were nearly killed because of your ‘just go’ motto, and yet, you put yourself right back into the line of fire for a glimpse at some shiny cars. In the army, we have a term for people like you. Liability.”

“Now, see, I like to think of it more as quick-witted. After all, you’re here right where I wanted you. When I showed up on your doorstep, you weren’t going to give me the time of day. Just admit it. ‘Go home,’ you said. Now you’re stuck in a car with me while I interrogate you to my heart’s content. I’d say my motto is working out just fine.” She blew at the steaming cup and turned to her window, mumbling, “Just don’t tell my mother.”

Wade eyed the back of her silky hair. It was knotted a bit from sleeping on it all night. He wished he had a comb for her. A cough escaped his throat at his outlandish thought. Promise lifted her head to assess his well-being. To assure her he was fine, Wade jumped back into the conversation. “Your mom doesn’t see things your way, I take it. I think I like her.”

“You would.” Lacey swung to face him again. Her hair fell in a huge chocolaty curl over her shoulder.

Again with the hair, he thought. He was so used to grooming Promise on a daily basis, he must be going soft.

Lacey put out her free hand. “Speaking of which, may I use your phone? My parents are going to be expecting me for Christmas dinner tonight, and I don’t see that happening now.”

Wade’s attention drifted from her outstretched hand to her expectant face as her words registered. When they did, he barked out a laugh. “See what I mean? Your motto’s not working for you. You thought you’d be home for Christmas dinner after driving up the East Coast one day and back down the next? That made sense to you?”

She pursed her lips in irritation. “Just give me the phone.”

“Can’t. Chucked it.”

Her hand dropped. “What do you mean you chucked it?”

“It’s called Planning Ahead 101. Let me enlighten you. These aren’t your street gangs doing drive-bys. For us to move forward safely, we must think strategically not only with our strategies, but theirs. That means lose anything they can even remotely trace us with. So sayonara, phone.”

Lacey put her coffee in the cup holder and sagged against the hand-stitched leather seat with a sound of defeat. Promise, sensing turmoil around her, immediately stirred and pushed to a sitting position. Wade reached out to touch her so she would feel that he was fine, but before he did, Promise brought her paws to Lacey’s lap and rested there with imploring eyes.

Wade felt his mouth drop. Promise had never tried to comfort anyone besides him. Wade wasn’t jealous; he was just surprised. He watched to see if it would work, and sure enough, a few absent strokes from Lacey and Promise had succeeded with her mission—to calm her down.

And Lacey didn’t even realize it.

That part Wade was jealous of. He wished Promise always succeeded with him like that, but there were times...

“Fine.” Lacey broke into Wade’s dispiriting thoughts. “I get it. Phone’s gone. It’s for our own protection. I’ll find a pay phone or something.”

“Your parents’ phone most likely has a trace. You can’t call anyone.”

Lacey’s face crumpled in an instant. “You’re serious. This is bad.”

“Your brother is dead. You tell me.”

Lacey glanced out the window to the late-morning sun rising up from Virginia’s eastern seaboard. “I can’t tell you anything because you won’t tell me anything. How can I plan ahead when all I have is a key?”

“All right, Questions. What do you want to know?”

“First, I want to know who these people chasing me are.”

“I don’t have that answer because I, myself, don’t know.”

“Then, how do you know they can track us?”

“Because they found your brother when it was his business not to be found. Your brother was a research analyst in the United States Army’s counterintelligence department. Do you know what that entails? Let me enlighten you. Gathering intelligence under the radar.”

“So you think he died because of something he knew.”

“I know he died because of something he knew.”

“Did it have something to do with the army?”

“No. It had something to do with me. I meant it when I said I killed him. I may not have caused the explosion, but I set the fuse when I asked him for help.” Wade gripped the steering wheel and took the next turn for a parking area. He shut the car down and kept his eyes in the rearview mirror. After thirty seconds, a black Lincoln slowly drove by. He kept the info to himself. No need to cause Lacey to make more panicked decisions. She may think she made her choices calm and collected, or quick-witted, as she touted, but her past choices weren’t life-and-death as they were now.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Train station. There’s a locker inside that the key belongs to. Jeff and I used it as a dead drop.”

“What’s that?”

“When two people want to pass information to one another without being seen together, they can establish a place to leave the intel.”

“Intel? Why does this all sound like some sort of spy mission? Wait. Was Jeff a spy?” The idea looked as if it was about to make her head implode. Wade knew the feeling.

“Not Jeff. He was just helping me get information on the side.” Wade swallowed hard. Once he told Lacey all he knew, she would be in so much danger. But as of last night, she was a target anyway. Whether she knew it or not, she was a dead woman by just being near him. “Your brother wasn’t the spy, Lacey. The spy was my mother. And apparently, she’s still killing people from her grave. I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re most likely next.”

* * *

Wade’s mother was a spy? For whom? Lacey puzzled over this while they hustled toward the train station. She had never known anyone who was a spy, or even knew someone who knew someone. She supposed they were out there, but that world was so far out of her reality, it seemed as if it belonged to Hollywood. Except the bullets that came her way last night weren’t blanks, and for someone to use real bullets on her, they obviously didn’t want some secret to get out. She wished she could tell them she didn’t know anything, their secrets were safe. But she supposed now she did know something and that made her a liability to someone.

Liability. Just as Wade had referred to her. She didn’t want to let on, but his term for her hit hard. How many times had she heard her mother say Lacey would be the death of her?

Lacey swallowed hard and put it out of her mind for Wade’s ogre of a mother instead. “So all this cloak-and-dagger stuff has to do with your mom?”

“Not here,” Wade said with his hand at her lower back, pushing her toward the entrance. “We’ll talk later.”

Concern saturated his voice. She glanced back to see him searching the road to his left. “Are the shooters here? Did they find us? It was probably your driving. You should let me drive next time.”

“There won’t be a next time if we don’t keep moving.”

Lacey ducked deeper behind the collar of Clay’s suit coat as she picked up her step.

Promise barreled along with her, matching her stride, protecting her like a guard. Wade hadn’t even had to tell her to do so, the dog was so smart.

They reached the entrance door, but at someone’s yell to “Stop right there!” they halted in their tracks.

Lacey shot a look to her left, expecting to see one of the musclemen, but instead, she made contact with Wade’s muscled back in her face. He completely stepped in front of her, pushing her behind his wide frame as if she needed his protection. She may be small, but she could hold her own.

Lacey shifted to Wade’s right to see who shouted at them to stop. One look, and she saw a security guard headed their way. But one glance from Wade, and she knew he was about to blow his top.

“Get back behind me until I know it’s safe,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Just because I’m Jeff’s little sister, you don’t have to protect me. I’m tough, and he taught me everything I need to know to ward off danger.”

“This isn’t your little racetrack. The moment you left home to come see me, you put yourself on a much more dangerous course. One that puts me in a position to protect you. Now get behind me.” His blues blazed like ice.

Lacey slunk back behind him as the guard stepped up. “That dog can’t be in here.”

“She’s a service animal,” Wade replied, his voice monotone. “Where I go, she goes.”

“You don’t look disabled to me,” the guard said, and Lacey dropped her mouth in astonishment at the guy’s callous remark.

With every second of being kept hidden, Lacey felt her blood boil. A look to her feet and she could see the toe of her boot tapping. The next second, Promise nudged her clenched fist and grabbed her attention. Slowly, Lacey released her fingers to dig them into the dog’s soft golden-red fur. She watched her fuzzy eyebrows bounce, first one then the other. It reminded Lacey of a dancing caterpillar, and made her giggle. So quick, her anger simmered to a slow boil, then to nothing. There was just no getting angry around this animal. Promise offered so much love and made a person redirect their negativity into a positive response to return her love back to her.

“No, I don’t suppose I do,” Wade replied to the guard. He reached into his back blue-jeans pocket under his army coat and removed his wallet. Lacey could hear him flap out a folded piece of paper she could only assume he handed over to the guard to read.

Lacey thought he would say more about his PTSD injury, but he didn’t.

“We’re very strict about animals on the trains. Service animals only,” the guard said.

“As you can see by the document, she’s certified.”

That was all Wade planned to say? Lacey risked a glance from behind the patch on his upper right arm. The guard pored over the paper, obviously hoping for some falsification. She couldn’t stand here and allow this unfairness to go on. She had to speak her mind.

“This man is a captain in the US Army. He fought for you to keep your freedom. He has a right to have this dog to help him now.”

“Lacey,” Wade warned. “Not every battle is worth the fight.”

“Promise is worth it. And so are—” She stopped abruptly. The false words of affirmation stuck on her tongue. However indirectly, this man was responsible for her brother’s death.

“Not to worry. I know I’m not worth it.”

The guard handed the paper back. “Where’s the dog’s vest and leash?”

Wade reached into one of the many pockets of his coat and traded the paper for something red. “I have the vest here, but we had to leave in a hurry and the leash was forgotten.”

An excruciating amount of discretion time punctuated the conversation. Finally the guard said, “The dog should be on a leash...but since it’s Christmas, I’ll let it go. Just put the vest on her.”

Wade snapped the red service cape to Promise’s collar, then grabbed Lacey’s arm to move her forward, but the guard halted them again with “Hey, buddy.”

Wade turned back. “Yes?”

“Just so you know, I am thankful for your service.” The guard nodded and went back to his post.

Wade didn’t wait for any more interruptions. “We’ve got to move,” he said, hustling her forward.

He led the way down some stairs to a row of lockers against a wall. After a quick look around the near-empty station, he put out his hand for the key.

Lacey lifted it over her head and gave it to him. Locker number 726 accepted the key, and a quick turn later, the metal door swung wide with a creak and clatter.

“Any particular reason why you chose 726?” Lacey asked as Wade reached in for the sole contents.

Another envelope.

“It’s the month and date of the accident.”

“Your accident? The one that left you an orphan and your sister burned and your baby brother dead?”

His mouth dropped at all the information she already knew. “July 26. At 4:20 p.m., if you want all the details, Questions.”

“So you were investigating your accident and asked Jeff to help. Is he the one who told you your mother was a spy?”

“Shh.” He scanned around them and whispered, “No. I figured that out when I was eighteen. I found some information that told me my mom was not the person I thought she was. I found a collection of her aliases in one of her secret rooms. It was her Russian identities that had me leaving for the army the next day, needing to get away. But then one day I had this need to know what happened, who she really was. I thought if I did some investigating, it might make the images go away.”

“What kind of images?”

“Images you won’t understand, and shouldn’t. Anyway, that’s how I met your brother. He caught me snooping. When I told him why, he said he might be able to help. We set this locker up as a place to pass information without anyone knowing. Or thought we had anyway.”

Wade read the name written on the envelope. He lifted his head and showed it to her. “Except this is to you. Not me.”

“Me? But how would I know to come here for it? He left me the key and a piece of paper with your name on it. But there were no directions for the locker. If I hadn’t gone to find you, I wouldn’t have ever known it was here.”

“Acting first must be a pattern of yours he knows well.”

Lacey snatched the envelope. “So what? I’m driven. Some would say that’s a good quality to have.”

“If you have a death wish, sure.”

Lacey barely heard his remark because seeing her name scrawled on the front of the envelope written in Jeff’s handwriting nearly undid her. Tears sprang to her eyes as she realized this was the last letter Jeff wrote to her and would ever write again.

“Would you mind if I read this in private?” She looked at Wade over the paper, the feeling of moisture in her eyes.

Wade gave a quick nod. “I’ll be over by the stairs. Don’t take too long.” Promise followed her soldier, and as soon as Lacey heard the tap of his boots and the click of Promise’s claws fade away, she ripped open the envelope and withdrew the single-page letter.

The first words brought more tears to her eyes and clouded her vision so much she could barely read on. Her hands shook as Jeff stated that if she was reading this then he was dead. But nothing could stop her from reading on, not her tears and not the goons out there hunting her.

His words lectured her on getting along with Mama, but also told her to stay strong, and to remember everything he taught her. She wasn’t one of those dainty pieces of lace, he reminded her for the millionth time in her life. Lacey smiled at the words of her champion. What would she do without him cheering her on?

She exhaled and glanced at Wade, who was getting antsy by the stairs. Promise pushed against his thigh.

Lacey went back to the letter and read a part meant for him. Jeff wanted Wade to know he didn’t regret a thing. She read on, then dropped the letter to her side when the words ended too soon. Her brother signed off with a message for Wade to go home and to always remember words were powerful. Whatever that meant. Maybe something to do with his healing, Lacey thought. It would make sense that Jeffrey would encourage Wade to talk about his pain. The man seemed to keep everything in, especially whatever those images were that he’d mentioned.

Lacey gazed down at the bottom of the letter. A long line of numbers was scrawled there, but she had no idea what they meant, either.

“What does it say?” Wade caught her unaware. She hadn’t even heard his footsteps return.

Lacey held out the letter and held her breath as he read. He wasn’t going to like what Jeff had to say to him. After a minute of his own perusal, he looked back at her, befuddled.

“He wants me to go home and give up? I don’t believe it. We were getting so close.”

“And he got too close. Jeff obviously doesn’t want the same thing to happen to you.” She pointed to the letter. “What are those numbers at the bottom of the page? I don’t understand them.”

“They’re coordinates.” Wade handed the letter to her while he pushed some buttons on his watch. “Huh.”

“What? What did you do to your watch?” She stuffed the letter into Clay’s interior suit-coat pocket.

“I input the numbers to get the location.” He turned his wrist to show her the address that came up. “It’s my family’s racetrack.”

“Maybe it was Jeff’s way of telling you this was your home.”

Wade shook his head. “It’s best if I stay away from there.”

“Why?”

“You won’t get it.”

“Try me.”

Wade sighed and looked ready to bolt. This question affected him. Just when she thought he would take off, he surprised her and said, “I’m not whole, and that’s all I’m going to say. Now let’s get out of here.”

“Back to New Hampshire?”

“Back to square one.”

They retraced their steps in silence and exited the station with caution.

“It’s too quiet,” Wade whispered more to himself. “We should have heard or seen someone by now.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“I like being in control of the situation.”

They reached the halfway point to the car when Wade put an arm out to halt her and Promise. “The tires are flat. It’s a setup. Get back in the station now.”

Lacey and Promise turned tail on a dime and followed his orders. Wade went right up to the teller. He bought two tickets for the next train leaving the station in two minutes—going south.

“You better hurry or you won’t make it to the platform in time,” the teller said as he passed the tickets through the glass opening.

Wade didn’t wait for his change or to reply, but rushed them all through the station and out to the correct track.

The train waited on the empty platform; its doors would close on them any second. Lacey’s breath panted loudly in her ears. All their steps hit the walk like a stampede, but it was Wade who rushed ahead and made it to the door. He stopped it from closing with his hand. With all his might, he pushed it wide with one hand while he reached for Lacey with his other.

“Hurry!” he shouted. Quickly, his gaze went past her shoulder, his eyes narrowed and darkened. “Lacey! Run!”

Just then, Lacey felt a strong, beefy hand cover her mouth and yank her back into a hard chest, her feet dangling above the concrete. With her eyes on Wade, she never saw him coming. She’d been completely blindsided.

Lacey couldn’t see the man, but she could see Wade—and the look of conflict that washed over his face. He had two choices. Let go of the door, or let go of her.

She would tell him to hang on to the door if she could. She figured she would get out of the hold in just a second. A race-car driver had to be in top body shape to handle the strength of the cars and crashes. In the past, she’d climbed out of wrecked vehicles that were more constricted than this guy’s arms. But struggling in his grasp now did nothing to loosen his hold or stop him from dragging her back into his hiding spot, out from everyone’s view. She screeched from behind his sweaty hand, ignoring the awful salty taste and searching for a glimpse of Wade. She could no longer see him on the other side of a support beam. Her screeching was cut off when the guy moved his arm down to a choke hold. With his forearm at her throat, the only sounds she heard were the gurgles of the last of her air.

She thought of Promise. Did the dog know how to attack? Lacey had only seen the service animal offer tender care. Perhaps if it was Wade who needed the assistance, Promise would bare her teeth, but Lacey wasn’t her handler. And since the dog was trained not to leave her handler’s side, Lacey couldn’t depend on the dog to help her.

“Give me what was in the box, and I’ll make this quick and painless,” the gruff voice spoke in her ear.

Lacey forced her mind to think clearly. Panicking now would only get her killed. How many times had Jeff told her that? She pulled from Jeff’s training to help her out of this situation. Her army brother had instructed her not only on the track, but also in the gym. Getting out of a choke hold had been covered on the first day. Jeff had spent hours grabbing her from behind, calling her names like Frills and Ruffles. He’d really known how to make her head steam.

Lacey pictured her taunting brother and used her anger to push the beefy arm up and out. The break of the hold allowed her to turn toward the man and take his arm with her. She twisted it behind him and kicked the back of his leg just as the train’s whistle blew. He let out a scream of pain as she brought him to his knees and elbowed his nose straight back into his head. Not a person heard him over the train, but she heard her brother’s praises as though he called to her from the side of the mat. She would have loved to reminisce longer over the memories, but the train was leaving.

The green flag in Lacey’s mind’s eye waved. This was no time for a pit stop. She had to scram or be left behind. She hated being left behind.

She stepped around the brick wall and found the train car door closed and Wade and Promise gone.

It appeared Wade had made his decision.

He’d decided to let her go.

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