Fear made her flee the crime scene.

Desperation drove her to another man’s doorstep.

Savannah Martell has no memory of how she ended up next to her philandering ex-husband’s dead body. Facing too many unanswerable questions, she turns to Connor Wells. Years ago, their romance burned hot and deep, and the flame still smolders. But when the death count rises and evidence leads back to Savannah, will Connor still provide an alibi for the woman he never stopped loving?

CAROL ERICSON is a bestselling, award-winning author of more than forty books. She has an eerie fascination for true-crime stories, a love of film noir and a weakness for reality TV, all of which fuel her imagination to create her own tales of murder, mayhem and mystery. To find out more about Carol and her current projects, please visit her website at www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

Also by Carol Ericson

Delta Force Defender

Delta Force Daddy

Delta Force Die Hard

Locked, Loaded and SEALed

Alpha Bravo SEAL

Bullseye: SEAL

Point Blank SEAL

Secured by the SEAL Bulletproof

SEAL

Single Father Sheriff

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Her Alibi

Carol Ericson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09378-1

HER ALIBI

© 2019 Carol Ericson

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

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

Epilogue

About the Publisher

Chapter One

The sea crashed on the rocks, and the tide tried to drag her back under but she resisted its pull. She forced open one eye, the lid weighted like a manhole cover.

To keep it open, she focused her dry eyeball on the filmy white curtain billowing into the room from the French door ajar to the balcony. Another wave from the ocean below made its presence heard as it broke and then clawed at the rocky shore. She could almost taste the salt from the sea spray on her tongue.

She licked her lips. The air in the room lay heavy upon her, and she still hadn’t managed to open her other eye. She lifted a lethargic arm and rubbed her closed eye, hoping to stimulate it.

She blinked against the stinging sensation and rubbed again, smearing moisture across her cheek to her ear. Had she been crying in her sleep? That deep, dark slumber she couldn’t seem to shake?

Raising her hand in front of her face, she wrinkled her nose. Not tears, blood. She hadn’t had a bloody nose since she was a kid. She pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers, sniffing, and her nostrils flared at the tinny smell that seemed to invade every pore.

The odor revived her, stunning her like a prod. She jerked her bare limbs beneath the silk sheets. She bolted to a sitting position, the back of her head hitting the headboard. Pain, all out of proportion to the tap of her skull against the wood, coursed through her body, and she gagged.

As if that bump had awakened every nerve ending in her body, her right hand began to throb. She spread out her fingers, the red cuts on her hand standing in stark relief against the white sheets.

What the hell happened? Why was she bleeding, and why was she naked in her ex-husband’s bedroom?

She scrambled from the bed, tripping over something soft on the floor in the semidarkness. Gasping, she fumbled for the light switch on the wall next to the bed and jabbed at it with her thumb.

Her gaze dropped to the floor, and she staggered back, her mouth agape. A scream gathered in her lungs but lodged in her chest, choking her instead. Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath. Somewhere deep down inside, she knew vomiting would only make this situation, whatever it was, much, much worse.

Her self-preservation, one of her strongest instincts, took control of her brain and her eyelids flew open. She extended her leg and with her big toe, she prodded the shoulder of her ex-husband, crumpled on the floor.

Her investigatory digit met cold flesh, and the reality rushed in on her, just as surely as those waves were rushing to shore outside that window. She clapped a hand over her mouth and hissed through her fingers, “Niles?”

The s hung in the air and only the drapes floating into the room whispered a response.

She fell to her knees and crawled toward Niles’s still form. Covering two fingers with the bedspread that hung to the floor, she placed them against his neck. The once-vibrant man, who couldn’t seem to sit still for a second, didn’t have one ounce of life left in his body.

She sat back on her heels and surveyed the opulent bedroom she’d painstakingly decorated a lifetime ago. What had happened in this room?

She dug a knuckle into her temple. She couldn’t remember coming into the bedroom with Niles last night. She’d come back to the house with him in his car after the drink they’d shared at the Marina Sports Bar. He had the file she’d wanted to see in his home office.

He did so much work from home she didn’t figure it for a ploy. Niles didn’t need ploys. He’d moved on to another woman shortly after their separation. Hell, who was she kidding? He’d moved on to multiple women before the separation.

Then what? Had he drugged her? She ran her tongue around her dry mouth. Had he not wanted to show her the file?

She peered at her hands and the cuts on her right palm. Her gaze darted to the bloody wounds gouging Niles’s back. He’d been stabbed...to death.

They’d fought last night. They always fought. That was why they’d got divorced. Civilized people divorced. They didn’t kill. She hated Niles, but she never wished him dead.

The breeze filtering in from the open door tickled her ear. She shook her head. Not just dead. Murdered. And she’d blacked out...again.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and she sprang to her feet. Her head swiveled back and forth, her gaze tripping over her clothes in the corner. Why had she taken them off? She dragged in a deep breath. If she panicked now, she’d get herself into even deeper trouble.

Get dressed. Get out.

As she tiptoed to the jumble of clothing, a building dread accompanied each step. There could be only one reason for her to strip off her clothes: if they were soaked with blood. She leaned forward, pinching the material of her blouse between two fingers and pulling it free from the pile.

The spotless white silk had her releasing a noisy breath. She grabbed a handful of the black slacks and shook them out—dry as a bone. As dry as her mouth.

Her underwear had been dislodged from her slacks and fell back to the floor. She scooped up her bra and panties and put them on over her cold, clammy flesh. Had she showered at some point last night?

She pressed her nose against the skin of her upper arm—not sweaty, but not exactly fresh, either. She crept into the bathroom and nudged the light switch with the side of her hand, casting a warm glow over the gray tiles with their bright blue accents.

No droplets of water appeared on the floor of the walk-in shower. No damp towels littered the bathroom or hung on the racks. She edged up to the vanity and peered at her reflection in the mirror.

A pair of wide violet eyes stared back at her, and a smear of blood created a line from the corner of her eye to her ear. That was her own blood from the cuts on her right hand. She didn’t have a speck of Niles’s blood on her. She stuck two fingers in her mouth and then rubbed the red streak from her face.

If her clothes weren’t bloody and she hadn’t taken a shower, surely she’d be covered in his blood if...? But she’d blacked out.

She spun away from the mirror and scanned every corner of the bathroom. Nothing looked out of place—except her standing here in her underwear.

She whipped a hand towel from the rack and wiped the light switch, and the sink and shower faucets for good measure. Then she rushed back into the bedroom and erased her fingerprints from the light switch in there, too. She didn’t have to wipe down the entire house, as she’d been here recently. Hell, she used to live here.

She inspected the bed, squinting at the pillow and sheets, searching for strands of her dark hair and blood from her cuts. Those would be damning, but she couldn’t afford to spread even more of her DNA around by going into the laundry room and washing the bedding.

Then she crouched beside Niles’s dead body and studied the cuts on his back and the ripped, slightly freckled flesh. She shivered.

She looked at her hand, the thin red lines of the cuts creating a horizontal pattern on her palm. She reached up and buried her fingertips in her hair, tracing over a tender lump on the back of her head. Had she and Niles had some kind of fight? A physical altercation? Could his killing have been in self-defense?

She bunched up her hand into a fist and pressed it against her stomach. Self-defense when she stood to gain 100 percent control of Snap App? Self-defense when everyone knew they had been fighting over the company for months?

Nobody would believe her—not with her past. She couldn’t afford to be at another scene involving a dead body.

She picked up the towel and continued wiping down surfaces in the bedroom. With a brisk nod, she dropped the towel to the floor and picked up her slacks next to it.

She slipped into the black pants and gasped, patting the pockets. Her lashes fluttered as she huffed out a breath. She’d left her phone at home last night on the charger. Her battery had been dying lately and she couldn’t be happier about it now. She didn’t need her cell phone signal pinging in this house at this time.

She pulled her blouse over her head. As she reached for the top button, she grabbed threads instead. Her button had popped off—the oversize multicolored, highly unique button.

With her head pounding, she dropped to her knees and ran her hands across the wood floor and underneath the dresser. Her fingers stumbled across the button and she slid it across the floor and dropped it into the pocket of her slacks. Then she stepped into the high heels placed next to each in perfect alignment.

She scooped up the towel and gave the room a final look over her shoulder from the bedroom door. She froze. The knife.

What if the knife had her prints on it? Her head swiveled from side to side. What knife? She hadn’t seen a knife anywhere.

Her gaze slid to Niles’s body. He had stab wounds on his back, but what about his front? If she rolled him over, she could leave more evidence of her presence here. If she didn’t, she could be leaving a murder weapon with her prints on it.

She kicked off her heels and approached Niles. She feared him now more than she ever had alive. Still gripping the hand towel, she pushed at his inert form enough to tilt it on its side. Before he fell back to the floor, she’d determined there was no knife beneath him—nothing beneath him except more blood. This had been angry overkill.

It hadn’t been her anger that had killed him. But then she’d blacked out.

She grabbed her shoes in one hand and shuffled out of the room backward, as if she expected Niles to jump up and point an accusing finger at her, and then turned and jogged down the curved staircase, sweeping the towel along the banister for good measure. She and Niles had come back to the house for some file, and she still had every intention of leaving with that file.

She scurried into Niles’s home office and scanned the clean surface of the mahogany desk. She and Niles hadn’t even made it far enough to get the file. But she knew exactly where they were.

With the towel still clutched in her hand, she dropped her shoes and crouched before the desk drawers, pulling open the bottom one. She shoved the hanging files aside and then snatched a letter opener from a pencil holder on the desk. She jammed the point into a circular release at the bottom of the drawer and slid open the false bottom.

She released a sigh. The labels indicated the file folder she wanted was on top of some other folders and a few other items. Niles must’ve got it ready for her. She removed the folder, replaced the false bottom, closed the drawer and wiped down everything.

Gripping the folder in one hand, she turned away from the desk and tripped to a stop when she saw two crystal tumblers on the counter of the wet bar. She yanked the towel from where she had it draped over her shoulder, rinsed out both glasses, wiped them down and put them back on the shelf behind the bar.

The computer had to be her next stop, to check the footage from the security cameras. Covering the mouse with a tissue from Niles’s desk, she navigated through the security software.

She drew in a quick breath as her mouth dropped open when she realized the system had been disabled. Had Niles done that earlier? Had his killer? Had she?

Now she needed to sneak out of here...and find herself an alibi.

* * *

CONNOR DUG HIS feet into the sand and squinted at the surfers battling the heavy surf—and each other.

He pulled out his video camera, zoomed in and started filming the Cove Boys and their antics in the water. Summer might’ve ended but the rowdy group of surfers who ruled the cove with a belligerent localism never stopped when they thought outsiders were riding their waves.

Connor caught the Cove Boys dropping in on others’ waves, cutting them off, yelling and making rude gestures. This footage would help with the lawsuit.

The Cove Boys’ aggressive behavior had its desired effect as, one by one, the harassed surfers came to shore in defeat.

A couple approached him, their boards under their arms. The man reached back and yanked down the zipper of his wetsuit. “Are they always like that?”

“Yep.” Connor held up his video camera. “But we’re trying to stop it. Some local surfers who don’t like the reputation of the cove are bringing a class action lawsuit against these guys—and I just captured some solid evidence.”

“Good. It’s about time someone did something about these guys.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Connor saw a surfer clambering from the surf and coming at him. He turned, widening his stance on the wet sand, his muscles tense.

Jimmy Takata, one of the Cove Boys, threw down his board. “What’s up, Wells? What’s the camera for?”

“Whaddya think? You guys can’t stop even when your attorney tells you to lie low.”

Jimmy lunged at him, and Connor dropped the camera on top of his bag and raised his hands. “You wanna go there?”

“You’re playing with fire, Wells.” Jimmy leveled a finger at him. “Your old man doesn’t rule this town anymore, and he did a crap job when he did.”

Connor’s eye twitched behind his sunglasses. “Aren’t you kinda old to be playing beach bully, Jimmy?”

“Never too old to protect your own. Besides, you’re not a cop anymore, so stop trying to recapture your glory days.” Jimmy guffawed as he scooped up his board and waded back into the water.

Connor crouched and stashed the camera in his bag. Then he hitched it over his shoulder and scuffed his bare feet through the dry sand to the line of cars on the road above the beach.

He slid behind the wheel of his truck and tossed the bag on the seat next to him. Gripping the steering wheel, he let out a breath. If he could help break the stranglehold the Cove Boys had over the best surfing spot in San Juan Beach, it might go a little way toward restoring the town’s former luster.

It seemed a million years ago since his father patrolled this small beach community as its police chief and the residents could trust each other and trust authority. Then the drugs moved in and all that ended—along with his father’s life.

Connor swallowed the bitterness that flooded his mouth and took a swig of the warm water from the bottle in his cup holder. He’d leave this place, as others had, if it weren’t for the land and his father’s dream. Didn’t he owe that to him?

Someone rapped on his window and he jumped. He peered through the glass at the couple from the beach and powered down his window.

The guy stuck his hand into the open space. “Thanks, man.”

“For what?” Connor jerked his thumb toward the beach. “They’re still out there intimidating people.”

“Yeah, but if that lawsuit prevails and those idiots are slapped with an injunction, they’re going to think twice about their localism—and your video footage should help.”

The woman held out a business card. “If the attorney needs witnesses, give me a call. We’d be happy to help.”

“Thanks.” Connor plucked the card from between the woman’s fingers. “I’ll give this to the lawyer filing the lawsuit.”

With a wave of his hand, Connor cranked on his engine and pulled away from the gravelly shoulder, spitting dust and sand in his wake. After a few miles, he made a turn to the east, away from the coast and the town of San Juan Beach.

The narrow, two-lane road wound into the low-lying hills and the early-fall temperature rose several degrees as he escaped the sea breeze. The hotter the better. His grapevines needed the warmth.

On the way to the house, Connor pulled over and jumped out of the truck. He cupped a bunch of grapes in his palm and sniffed—the sweet had started to overpower the tart—right on time, even though this crop wouldn’t be the harvest for the wine. He had to wait another year for that.

Good thing he was a patient man.

As he made the last turn, he hunched over the steering wheel and squinted at the white car in his driveway. Someone had ignored the no-solicitors sign posted at the entrance to his property—probably another one of those Realtors. That shiny cream-white Lexus looked exactly like a Realtor’s car.

His jaw hardened, and he threw the truck into Park. He pushed out of his vehicle at the same time a woman emerged from the Lexus.

As she floated toward him, her hands held out, Connor blinked. Her perfume wafted toward him and enveloped him in her spell. When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his shoulder, her chestnut hair lifting in the breeze, his capture complete.

Her warm breath caressed the side of his neck as she whispered in a husky tone, “I’m in trouble, Connor. And I need an alibi.”

Chapter Two

Connor’s body, still hard and strong, stiffened. She knew he wouldn’t be putty in her hands, but she’d hoped she wouldn’t have to bring out the big guns.

He stepped back, and she unwound her arms from around his waist. She didn’t want to be clingy.

Narrowing his blue eyes, he folded his arms across his unyielding chest. “What now?”

She gazed over his shoulder at the empty road bordered by grapevines and pasted a smile on her face. “The vineyard looks good. I can’t wait for the first bottle.”

He snorted, “Are you really trying to butter me up? You should know better.”

“I need to ease into this.” She squeezed his rock-solid biceps. “Can we talk inside?”

“Hang on.”

He turned back toward his truck, opened the door and ducked inside, giving her a spectacular view of his backside in his board shorts. From the look and feel of Connor’s muscles, she wouldn’t be surprised if he worked this vineyard single-handedly, but he must still be spending time at the beach, given his sandy bare feet and the burnished-gold sheen on his brown hair.

He walked toward her, a black bag slung over his shoulder. As he passed her, he nodded toward the house. “Follow me.”

“Hardly the red carpet I was expecting after all this time.”

“Maybe it’s more than you deserve after all this time.”

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. She definitely needed the big guns this time around.

As she walked into the house she expelled a soft sigh. “You redecorated.”

“This is my house now, not my parents’. What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”

She ran a hand along the back of the cream-colored leather sofa, which had replaced an overstuffed floral one that had been littered with his mother’s handmade pillows. “It’s an improvement.”

He placed the bag on a granite island that separated the kitchen from the living room, where a wall once stood that had supported a shelf showing off Connor’s surfing trophies.

“Do you want something to drink? No wine...yet.”

“As much as I could use some alcohol right now, it’s still morning and I need my wits about me...all my wits.” Or at least the ones she still possessed after last night’s blackout.

“I have water, orange juice and iced tea from a bottle.”

“Tea, please.” She perched on the edge of the sofa, the soft leather almost sighing beneath her weight, and wedged her purse next to her feet.

When Connor exited the kitchen holding two glasses, the ice clinking with each of his steps, she patted the cushion next to her.

He handed her the glass, tossed a coaster onto the coffee table hand carved from a log and took the chair across from her.

Looked like he wanted to keep his wits about him, too. The two of them had always shared a magnetic attraction to each other, but maybe he’d been able to shut down that magnet after their last contact a few years ago.

“Tell me what’s going on.” He took a long gulp of tea. “Is it that husband of yours?”

“Ex-husband.”

“Right. You’re still fighting with him about that multimillion-dollar company?”

“It’s much worse than that, Connor.”

“Just spill it, Savannah.”

“Niles is dead...murdered.”

Connor’s eyebrows shot up to that lock of brown hair that curled over one eye. “Murdered? Wouldn’t that be all over the news? I know I’m kind of a recluse these days, but I do have a TV—cable and everything.” He jabbed a finger at the huge flat screen that claimed the space above his fireplace.

“It’s... He’s... I don’t think he’s been discovered yet.”

Connor jumped from the chair, and the tea splashed over the side of the glass clutched in his hand. “What are you telling me?”

“I found him. At his house. Dead.”

“And you didn’t call 911?”

“Of course not.”

“Of course not?” He threw his arm out to the side. “No, why would anyone call the police upon discovering a dead body, especially the dead body of your ex?”

“Exactly.” She took a small sip of tea and avoided his wild-eyed stare.

He stopped pacing and landed in front of the couch, looming over her with iced tea dripping from his hand onto the polished hardwood floor. “What the hell happened to him, Savannah? Why didn’t you call the police?”

She shook her glass to rattle the ice. “He was stabbed to death, and I didn’t call because the police would’ve arrested me.”

“Why?”

“Because I woke up in his house, in his bed, and I don’t remember how I got there.” She closed her eyes and held her breath.

The shocked stillness reverberating off Connor in waves made her more nervous than the agitated pacing. She peeled open one eye and swallowed.

A muscle throbbed at the corner of his mouth, and the fingers curling around the sweating glass sported white knuckles. His blue eyes had darkened to the color of a stormy sea.

Then he blinked, drained the tea in one gulp, wiped his palm on the leg of his board shorts and set the glass on the coffee table. “You’d better start from the beginning.”

Warm relief flooded her body and she almost collapsed against the sofa cushions. This was the Connor she’d hoped to see—in control and even-keeled. He hadn’t agreed to anything yet, but he hadn’t thrown her out on her derriere, either.

Sitting up, she squared her shoulders. “Niles and I met for a drink last night to discuss some business. I had come across something in the books and wanted to see some files.”

“Why didn’t he just send over the file? Why the meeting, the drink?”

She studied his square jaw, clenched in disapproval. Did she detect jealousy in that question?

“Niles had been wanting to discuss other aspects of the business with me for weeks and figured this was his opportunity to have me at his mercy.” She cleared her throat. “I really wanted those files, so I agreed.”

“How did the meeting go?”

She ran her fingers through her hair, avoiding the sore spot on the back of her head. “Like all our meetings. We ended up in an argument.”

His eyes flickered, but he took a seat on the edge of the coffee table and she eked out a little sigh because he was no longer looming over her.

“Did anyone at the bar notice you arguing?”

“I’m sure a few people did. We exchanged sharp words and may have got a little loud, but there was no knock-down-drag-out.”

He rubbed his knuckles across his clean-shaven chin. He’d shaved off the beard since the last time she’d seen him. Bearded or not, the man still pushed all the right buttons in all the right places.

She licked her lips, and his gaze bounced to her mouth and then back to her eyes.

“What happened next? How’d you end up at his house? That house in La Jolla, right?”

“Yeah, that one.” She caught a drop of moisture on the outside of the glass with her finger and touched it to her temple. “Niles had left the file I wanted at the house. I had to go with him to retrieve them.”

“Go with him? You didn’t drive your own car?” He tipped his head at the window, toward the Lexus in his driveway.

“I walked to the bar. It was close to my house and you know I don’t like to drive after even one drink.”

“Is that what you had? One drink?”

“Two.” She held up two fingers in a peace sign and then brought the fingers together. “Scout’s honor.”

Unless she’d downed whatever was in that crystal tumbler at the house.

“I’m not checking on you, Savannah. I believe you. What I’m trying to get at is if you were drunk when you left the bar with him.”

“Absolutely not. I don’t get drunk...anymore.”

“So why’d you black out? Do you remember going to his house? Driving in the car with him?”

“I do remember getting into his car. I remember more arguing on the way to the house, arriving at the house and then...” She shrugged. “Nothing after that. I don’t remember what we did at the house. I don’t know how I lost my clothes and ended up in his bed. And I sure as hell don’t know how he wound up dead.”

“And you didn’t...”

“What?” She jerked her head in his direction.

He swiped a hand across his mouth as if to keep the words from tumbling out. “You’re telling me that someone broke into Niles’s house, murdered him in a violent manner and you were allowed to sleep peacefully through it all. Why weren’t you killed along with Niles?”

“That, I can’t tell you.” She skewered him with a gaze. “You almost sound disappointed.”

Connor pushed up from the coffee table and stalked to the kitchen. “Don’t play the poor-me card. I know you too well.”

He thought he did, but she’d kept secrets from him before.

He buried his head in the fridge and popped up with a bottle of beer in his hand. “I’m not offering. Someone needs a clear head here, but it’s not gonna be me.”

“Beer for breakfast?” She held up her hands to deflect his scowl. “Never mind. And I already told you, I have no idea why the killer left me undisturbed...almost undisturbed.”

“Almost?” He took a swig of beer and hunched over the kitchen island.

She jabbed her index finger into her chest. “I did not voluntarily take off my clothes for Niles, and I did not crawl into his bed.”

“The murderer took the time to strip you naked and place you in Niles’s bed? Where was Niles’s body?”

“On the floor next to the bed.”

“Next to you?”

“On the floor.”

He snapped his fingers. “Did you check the security cameras? A place like that, a guy like that—he had to have video surveillance.”

“All disabled.”

He scratched his chin in an absentminded manner. He must’ve just lost the beard and missed it, although why Connor’s facial hair occupied her thoughts at this crucial moment was a mystery. She squeezed her thighs together and huffed out a breath. No, it wasn’t, no mystery.

“Murder weapon?”

“Gone.”

“Blood?”

“All over Niles and the floor beneath him, but only a little on me and none on my clothes.”

“You had blood spatter on you?”

“I wouldn’t call it spatter.” She curled her right hand into a fist. She didn’t want to show him her palm, but she couldn’t hide it. He’d notice it anyway.

Holding her hand out to him and spreading her fingers, she said, “The blood came from some cuts on my hand.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, and then skirted the counter and charged toward her. She shrank back when he dropped to his knees in front of her and took her wrist between his fingers.

But she had nothing to fear from Connor.

With a gentle touch, he traced a fingertip over each cut, sending chills down her spine.

“These aren’t very deep...and they’re on the wrong hand.”

“The wrong hand?”

“The wrong hand for stabbing. You’re left-handed.”

She clasped his shoulder with her left hand. “I knew there was a good reason to run to you. D-do you think someone’s trying to set me up for Niles’s murder? Because I do. That’s what I think.”

“Could be. Do you have a motive?” He dropped her wrist and rose to his feet, as her hand slid from his shoulder.

She rolled her eyes. “Take your pick. We were fighting over the business. With his death, I get the whole thing, controlling interest back in my lap. A-and there’s something else.”

He had returned to his beer and raised his eyebrows as he took a sip.

“Life insurance.” She knotted her fingers in front of her. “Lots of life insurance.”

“It’s natural to assume a spouse would be the beneficiary of life insurance, even after a divorce. It’s not necessarily the first thing most people going through a separation think about.”

“Niles Wedgewood is not most people. He did think about dropping me as his beneficiary after the divorce in favor of his new girlfriend, Tiffany, and his junkie twin brother, Newland, and his sister, Melanie, up in San Francisco, but I convinced him we should leave each other as our beneficiaries until we had the business worked out.”

“And people know this?” Connor tugged on his earlobe, a sure sign of worry.

“His divorce attorney knows it.”

“How much are we talking?”

She dropped her chin to her chest. “Millions.”

“With Niles’s death, you stand to get the business and millions of dollars in life insurance money.”

His gaze sharpened and his eyes looked like chips of ice, sending a flutter of fear to her belly. She’d better get used to that look—especially if she couldn’t produce an alibi for last night.

“Looks bad, huh?”

He nodded. “Did it occur to you for one second to call the police?”

“You know more than anyone why I won’t do that. No, it never occurred to me. I need an alibi, Connor. I need you.”

“You want me to lie to the police for you. Claim you were here last night.”

She leaned forward, planting her hands on her knees. “Mom and I lied for your father.”

There it was.

Connor’s eye twitched at the corner. “There’s no footage of you at the house. You didn’t drive your car, so it wasn’t parked in the neighborhood. How’d you get home? Taxi? App car?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” She sprang up from the couch, excitement and hope fizzing through her blood. He was going to help her. “I walked, and if you think that was easy with heels on, it wasn’t.”

“You walked home, got your car and drove straight down here?”

“I showered and changed first, but I didn’t waste much time.”

He snapped his fingers. “Cell phone? The police are going to pull your records. They’re going to know your phone was at Niles’s house last night at precisely the time he was murdered.”

“I didn’t have my phone with me.”

His head jerked back. “You didn’t have your phone? Who doesn’t carry their cell with them?”

“My battery has been dying on me. I left it at home, charging. I thought I’d be walking up to the bar to meet Niles for a quick drink, a discussion and those files.”

“And then you drove down here with it turned on? They’re gonna see that, too.”

“Foiled again.” She held up one finger. “I turned the phone off when I plucked it off the charger. It’s off even now.”

His eyebrows formed a V over his slightly sunburned nose as he pinned her with a slitted gaze before turning away from her.

The look sent a chill up her spine. Despite her explanation, he was wondering why she hadn’t brought her phone with her to the bar...but he’d see she’d been telling the truth about her phone.

“If the police don’t believe you...or me, they can track your license plate. There are cameras on the highway between here and La Jolla. If they want to, all they have to do is enter your license plate number and—” he flicked his index finger against his thumb “—they could get a hit, placing your car on its way to San Juan Beach today instead of last night.”

“I removed my plates.”

Connor swung around, his longish hair brushing his shoulders. “You could’ve been pulled over for not having plates.”

“I figured it was worth the risk for just the reason you mentioned. Did you think I wasn’t listening to you all those times you went on and on about police work and new innovations?” She tapped the side of her head. “It fascinated me. I was listening.”

“What’s your story?” He folded his arms, ready to listen.

“I was upset after meeting with Niles. I made him drop me off near my house, and then I hopped in my car and came down here to see you.” She strolled to the window and rested her forehead against the glass. “I was here at the time he was getting stabbed.”

“Why would you rush to my place? We haven’t seen each other in four years, not since your marriage.”

“We were...in love. Everyone in San Juan Beach knows that. I never got you out of my system. Never forgot you. Never stopped wanting you back.” Her breath fogged the window, and she drew a line through the condensation.

The silence yawned between them until she couldn’t take it anymore. She did a slow turn and met his eyes. “Is that...believable?”

“I suppose it could fool some people.” The frost dripping from every word made it clear she hadn’t fooled him. “But we’re gonna have to make it stick.”

“How? What do you mean?”

“You can’t go running back to your former lover and then leave him a few days later to get back to managing your multimillion-dollar company and spending Niles’s life insurance money.”

“I could if my lover rejected my advances.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“He wouldn’t?”

“You wouldn’t have turned to him in your hour of need if you didn’t think you’d meet fertile ground. If I’m going to lie for you, you’re going to have to see this through. You’re going to have to stick around for a while to give this story legs.”

“I can do that—if you’ll have me.”

He leveled a finger at her. “I’m not going to get caught in this lie. I’m not going down for you—no matter what you and your mother did for my dad.”

“I understand. It’s in my best interest that we don’t get outed—life or death, actually.”

“Did you pack a bag or rush to me with just the clothes on your back?”

“Of course I packed a bag. It’s in my trunk.”

“I’ll get it.” He held up one hand. “Keys.”

She grabbed her purse from the floor by the sofa and dragged her keys from a side pocket. She tossed her key ring to him, and he caught it with his outstretched hand.

“Be right back.”

She watched him for a few seconds out the window and then turned, her lips twitching into a smile. It had been time to play her ace in the hole, but she knew she could get Connor to come around to her way of thinking. Even though he’d been a cop once upon a time, he had no regard for the police anymore. No trust in authority. Not much trust in her.

She sauntered toward the hallway and peeked into the first bedroom, the master suite, which Connor had transformed with dark woods and rich jewel tones. She didn’t know he had such good taste—unless he’d had help.

She’d come to San Juan Beach with confidence that Connor didn’t have a woman in his life. She still had her spies in this town, and they kept tabs on Connor for her. It wasn’t exactly stalking—just a healthy interest in the one man she’d love forever, but could never have.

The front door slammed and Connor yelled out her name, as if she weren’t down the hall.

She tripped back toward the living room and poked her head around the corner. “What’s the commotion?”

“What the hell is this?” He waved a plastic grocery bag above his head.

“I don’t know what you have there.” She wrinkled her nose as she eyed the bag.

He yanked on the handles, pulling it open. “You don’t know what this is?”

Her heart pounding against her rib cage, she crossed the room on shaky legs.

Connor thrust the open bag under her nose, and she staggered back...away from the sight of the bloody knife.

“Savannah, tell me the truth. Did you kill your ex?”

Chapter Three

Connor studied Savannah’s face as she peered into the plastic bag at the bloody knife.

Her big violet eyes widened, and her lips parted. Those eyes, a color he’d never seen before in his life, and the long lashes that framed them gave Savannah a look of innocence—but he knew better.

Who thought to leave a cell phone at home and remove a car’s license plates without something to hide?

Savannah’s bottom lip quivered as she dragged her gaze from the bloody evidence in front of her to his face. “I—I don’t... No!”

She spun away from him, clutching her belly. “I didn’t put that in my car. You found it in my trunk?”

“I found it in the spare tire well.”

“Why were you looking in there?” She glanced at him over her shoulder, her mouth tight as if she blamed him for the presence of the knife.

The knots in his gut tightened. He wanted to trust Savannah, believe her crazy story. God, he loved this woman...once.

“The corner of the cover wasn’t lying flat, so I lifted it. The bag looked out of place. What’s it doing there, Savannah? Is it the murder weapon?”

“How do I know?” She lifted her shoulders to her ears and turned to face him. “I’m telling you, Connor, I blacked out when I got to Niles’s place.”

“The point being, you could’ve got into an argument with him, continued your argument from the bar even and...”

“Stabbed him multiple times in the back?” She shook her head back and forth.

“Maybe it was self-defense.” He tied the handles of the bag together and placed it on the floor by the front door—not that he could leave it there. “Maybe the fight got physical, and he attacked you with a knife. You got it away from him and struck back.”

“That’s insane, Connor. I didn’t have any...” She stopped and touched the back of her head with her fingertips.

“Any what? What’s wrong?”

“I have a bump on my head. I was going to say I didn’t have any injuries, but I have this lump on the back of my skull and these cuts on my hand.”

His feet had been rooted to the floor ever since he’d entered with the knife and a terrible dread in his gut. Now a new urgency propelled him forward.

He took Savannah by the shoulders. “Turn around.”

She presented her back to him, and a silky fall of dark hair rippled across her shoulders.

He nestled his fingers in the strands of her hair and slid them up to her scalp.

She winced and sucked in a sharp breath.

“Here?” He traced a large, hard knot on Savannah’s head.

“Ouch. That’s the spot.”

“You didn’t have that before you woke up this morning?”

“No. I don’t think the skin is broken, and I didn’t notice any blood in my hair.”

“He could’ve pushed you, and you fell back against something.”

“Maybe that’s why I blacked out. Oh, Connor.” Dipping her head, she pressed a hand to her forehead. “I don’t know what happened last night.”

His hands dropped to her shoulders again and he massaged his thumbs between her shoulder blades. “We’re going to figure it out, Savannah.”

“And what if we figure out I’m responsible for Niles’s death?”

He turned her around to face him and kissed her forehead. “We’ll deal with it.”

“And what about that?” She pointed a slightly trembling finger at the bag by the door.

“We should get it tested for blood and fingerprints.”

She jerked back from him. “Are you crazy?”

“I thought you wanted to find out who killed Niles.” He folded his arms and dug his fingers into his biceps to keep from touching Savannah again. That never seemed to end well for him.

“Yes, but how are we going to ID blood and prints from the knife without taking it to the police?” She sliced a hand through the air. “I’m not doing that, Connor.”

“I think I can work around that.”

“Connections?”

“Maybe a few.” His father had been police chief in this town for over twenty years, before the sheriff’s department took over and swallowed up the San Juan Beach PD. “In the meantime...”

“In the meantime, get rid of it.”

“I’ll find a place.” He aimed his foot at the suitcase he’d dragged in with the knife. “Why don’t you unpack and get ready for our first appearance?”

“Our first appearance where?” She twisted a lock of hair around her finger.

“In public. If you showed up on my doorstep last night, we’d be out and about by now...or at least we should be to prove you’re here.”

“Makes sense.” She tossed her wound-up hair over her shoulder. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Like you pointed out earlier, I owe you for what you and your mom did for my dad. You never let me repay you for that.”

“Because even though Mom and I lied...and said Chief Wells killed my stepfather in self-defense, it still led to your dad’s death.”

Connor gritted his teeth. “Self-defense or not, it would’ve ended for Dad that way. Your stepfather’s associates were not going to let anyone get away with killing Manny Edmonds without payback.”

“My mom was always grateful for...what your father did.”

“My dad would’ve done anything for your mom.” Apparently it ran in the Wellses’ blood to do anything for the Martell women. Dad’s devotion to Savannah’s mother had broken up his marriage to Mom and ended his life. And Connor’s own devotion to Savannah had strained his relationship with his mother. How would this latest association end?

“Brunch?”

“What?” Connor ran a hand down the side of his face.

“I’m going to change while you get rid of that knife. Are we having brunch or lunch out to show my presence in San Juan Beach?”

Savannah sure seemed anxious to dispose of what was probably the murder weapon. “I’m not going to dump it.”

“Okay, whatever.” She strode past him and grabbed the handle of her suitcase, yanking it up. “I don’t want to know what you do with it.”

“Shouldn’t we take a look on TV or the computer to see if Niles’s body has been found yet?”

She held up one hand in front of her face. “I don’t want to know that, either. Better to feign surprise when the cops come calling.”

With a toss of her head, she tipped back her bag and dragged it across the floor to the hallway.

As she veered toward the guest room on the right, he called out, “Master suite. We’re back together, remember?”

Without a word or backward glance, she changed course and wheeled her bag into his bedroom.

He bent over and snatched up the plastic grocery bag by one handle. As it dangled from his fingertips, he stared at the spot where Savannah had disappeared into his bedroom.

He’d wanted Savannah back in his life for so long and now she was here in the flesh—needing him, sharing his bedroom, willing to engage in a pretend romance with him.

Turning, he grabbed the front door handle. How could this possibly go wrong?

* * *

SAVANNAH SMOOTHED HER hands across the cotton skirt that hit her midthigh. How many more ways could she feel guilty for dragging Connor into her mess?

Mom had dragged Connor’s father into her messes, and here she was, carrying on the famous Martell tradition. She and Mom had lied about the night her stepfather was shot and killed, all right, but it wasn’t for the benefit of Chief Wells.

Savannah could never tell Connor the truth about that night; he would never look at her the same way again. He’d blame her for his father’s death. And because she had to keep this secret from him, they could never have a relationship—not a real one.

When she heard the front door open, she grabbed her purse from Connor’s bed, and swung it by her side as she marched into the living room. “Ready?”

He spread his arms wide and his gray T-shirt stretched across his chiseled chest. “As long as it’s casual.”

“Is there anything but casual in San Juan Beach?”

“You haven’t been here for a while. A couple nice places popped up along the strand, still casual dress, though.”

The cell phone that had been charging on Connor’s kitchen counter dinged, indicating a new text message. She swallowed. “I’d better see who that is.”

Connor nodded.

She slid the phone across the smooth granite surface and tapped the incoming message. The words on the screen screamed at her. She read them aloud for Connor’s benefit. “‘Have you heard? Call me.’”

“Who’s it from?”

“It’s from Dee Dee Rodriguez. She’s Niles’s admin assistant at the office.”

“You’d better call her.”

“So it starts.” She went to her contacts and called Dee Dee’s number.

Dee Dee didn’t even wait for the first ring to end. “Savannah, have you heard about Niles?”

“No. What happened? What’s wrong?”

“He’s dead.”

“What are you talking about?” She lifted her eyebrows at Connor. Did she sound convincing? She put the phone on speaker, so he could hear everything, steer her in the right direction.

“Niles is dead, Savannah. Murdered.”

“Murdered? Is this a joke, Dee? It’s not funny.” Feign disbelief.

Connor nodded.

“Would I joke about someone’s murder?”

“I—I don’t believe you. Why haven’t I heard anything?”

“I just found out. The police are here.” She lowered her voice. “They were asking about you.”

Savannah licked her lips, her gaze darting to Connor’s face. “What happened, Dee? Who found him? I was just with him last night.”

“All I know is that his housekeeper found him this morning. I don’t know how he died. If...if you saw him last night, it must’ve happened after that, or this morning before the housekeeper arrived.”

“Oh, my God. This is terrible. I—I’m going to turn on the news or look it up on my computer.”

“I’m not sure the news is out there yet. Where are you, Savannah? I’m sure the police are gonna head to your place.”

“Probably, although Tiffany is closer to Niles than I am now—in every way, including physically. I’m not even in San Diego. I went south to San Juan Beach.”

“Oh, my God. Are you with that hottie from the picture you showed me?”

Heat clawed up Savannah’s chest and she turned away from Connor. “Yeah, I’m down here with Connor.”

“Lucky girl, unlucky Niles. Stay safe. Maybe there’s some kind of hit out on both of you.”

Savannah chewed her bottom lip. If that had been the case, she’d be dead, too. “I will. If the cops ask you about me again, you can tell them I’m in San Juan and would be happy to talk with them.”

“I will. It’s gonna be crazy at the office.”

“I can’t imagine anyone’s going to get any work done, so why don’t you all just take the rest of the day off?”

“Well, we can’t just... Oh, right. You’re the boss now, aren’t you?”

“Tell everyone there to take a mental health day.”

“Will do.”

Savannah ended the call and spun around. “How did I sound?”

“Convincing. Now, get on your laptop like you said you would.”

She dropped her purse on the floor where she stood and returned to the bedroom. She pulled her laptop from a zippered pouch on the side of her suitcase and brought it into the kitchen.

As Connor hovered over her shoulder, she powered on the computer and did a search for Niles Wedgewood. Her hand trembled as she clicked on the first link that popped up. “Local news outlet already has the story, but no specifics.”

Connor leaned in closer, his warm breath stirring her hair. “Just a snippet—body believed to be that of Niles Wedgewood, cofounder and CEO of Snap App, discovered in his ocean-side mansion in La Jolla. No further details at this time.”

“The police are going to call me, aren’t they?”

“Homicide detectives. They’ll probably want to interview you face-to-face, especially once they find out you were the last person to see him alive.”

“I’ll be ready.” She snapped down the lid of her laptop and rubbed her hands together. “Now, let’s go eat and make my presence known in SJB.”

Savannah bounced along in the passenger seat of Connor’s truck as he pulled onto the road from the property he’d inherited from his father. She rolled down the window and inhaled the scent of the air sweetened by grapevines.

“I think I can detect the aroma of wine already.”

“This time next year, I hope to have my first harvest.”

She tapped on the window. “I didn’t notice a name for the winery. Have you thought of one yet?”

“I suppose the easiest choice would be San Juan Beach Winery.”

“That’s a mouthful and kind of boring.” She drummed her fingers on her knee. “I’ll think of something clever.”

“Did you think of Snap App?”

“I did. Catchy, isn’t it?”

“It is.” He turned the truck west toward the coast. “I’ll take you to one of the newer places if you’re up for seafood. There’s a steak place, too, and they both do a breakfast or brunch or maybe even lunch.”

“Seafood. I’m trying to rid my diet of red meat.”

“Ethical or health?”

“I do love animals, but it’s for health reasons.”

He gave her a quick glance up and down. “You? You’re as fit as you were in high school, when you were a soccer star.”

“Soccer star?” she snorted. “Our team was awful.”

“Yeah, but you were the best one on that awful team.” He nudged her shoulder with the heel of his hand.

“You always were biased.”

“I know. In my eyes, you could do no wrong—even when you did wrong.”

Savannah tucked her hands beneath her thighs and sealed her lips. She’d done more wrong than Connor had known about, but why dredge up old skeletons? The new ones were keeping her busy enough.

She cleared her throat. “How much help do you have on the vineyard?”

“I have a chemist working for me, who drops by a few times a month. I have a couple guys who work the land daily, and I hired a marketing person who’s going to help design the bottles, labels, logos—that kind of stuff.”

Savannah wagged a finger in the air. “Don’t let her choose the name of the winery. I have dibs on that—I mean, since we’re back together and all.”

“Don’t take liberties.”

“How long do you think we need to play kissy-face?” She dropped her gaze and pleated her skirt with restless fingers. A girl could hope.

“Kissy-face? You mean how long should we pretend to be a couple?”

She lifted her shoulders. “Same thing.”

“We’ll play it by ear. Let’s see what the homicide detectives have to say. Let’s see if you’re their prime suspect.” He gripped the steering wheel at the top with both hands, his knuckles blanching.

“Oh, God. Don’t even go there. I don’t want to think about it—any of it.” She tipped her head, resting it against the window.

“Have you tried to remember what happened after you got to Niles’s house?”

“I won’t.” She hadn’t remembered the time before, either.

Connor’s head jerked to the side. “Why so sure?”

“I—I don’t know. That time last night just feels like a black hole. Besides, if I was roofied, I’m not going to remember. I don’t think any victims after they’d been slipped Rohypnol ever remember what happened, do they? It’s usually forensic evidence, rape kit, even CCTV and witnesses that help piece things together and lead to a conviction, not the victim’s testimony.”

“Typically, but why would Niles drug you?” Connor dragged a hand through his hair, tucking one side behind his ear. “He wasn’t after you, was he? Wanting to get back together?”

“No way. He’d already moved on to a new girlfriend.”

“Then why drug you?”

“I’m thinking it wasn’t Niles who drugged me. Maybe somebody slipped something in both our drinks.”

“At the bar?”

She nodded. “This the place?”

“How can you tell? The fishnets in the front or the giant swordfish?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.” She punched his thigh with her fist and met rock-hard muscle. Being a vintner agreed with Connor—the longer, sun-bleached hair, the casual attire, his more relaxed attitude. The fact that he hadn’t tossed her out on her bum after her outrageous story was a testament to that new attitude.

Although if she were honest with herself, she’d known Connor wouldn’t turn her away. He never had even when she’d deserved it.

He swung the truck into a parking place around the side of the restaurant that fronted the ocean. “Tourists are out in force. That’s the thing with these new restaurants. They do cater to the tourists.”

“Is the food any good?”

“Would I take you out for bad seafood? It’s decent.”

“Maybe we should’ve gone to one of our old haunts with the old local crowd, like the Black Whale.”

“Too risky. Too many direct questions. We need some time to ease into this.”

When he turned off the engine, Savannah slid from the truck, yanking down her skirt as her sandals hit the asphalt.

Connor had come around to the passenger side. “Should’ve waited for me to help you out. The truck sits kinda high.”

“I’m not going to hurt myself falling out of your truck.” Connor might not be a cop anymore, but he hadn’t lost his protective instincts. Thank God.

He took her hand. “It’s showtime.”

She was going to enjoy this role more than most of the ones she played. She squeezed his hand and bumped his shoulder with hers.

He opened the door for her, and she stepped into the restaurant, her breath hitching at the panoramic view of the ocean from the windows across the dining room. “Wow, no wonder this attracts the tourists.”

“Hey there, Connor.” A slinky hostess floated toward them, and Savannah moved in closer to her man, even if it was pretend.

“Hi, Cher. Do you have a table for two? No reservation.”

“You don’t need a reservation here, Connor. We have a no-show in the back, and that table has your name on it.”

“Thanks, Cher.”

As the resourceful Cher led them to the table with Connor’s name on it, she twisted her head over her shoulder and winked at Savannah. “We’re hoping to serve his first bottle of wine here someday soon.”

“I can’t wait for that myself. We’re trying to come up with names for the winery right now.”

Cher’s eyes popped and a little stumble marred her sashay. She recovered nicely and pulled out a chair for Savannah. “Well, let us know when you decide. Enjoy your meal, you two.”

Seated across from Savannah, Connor raised one eyebrow. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?”

She hunched across the table and grabbed both his hands. “We’re back together. You’re the man I ran to in the middle of the night, knowing you’d take me back.”

The light from the window glimmered in his eyes as he studied every detail of her face. Could he see the truth there? She would always turn to Connor Wells in a crisis because he’d always be there for her.

He raised one of her hands, turned it over and pressed a kiss against the pulse throbbing in her wrist.

“Can I get you something to drink?” The waiter cleared his throat and asked again, “Drinks?”

Savannah tore her gaze away from Connor’s and jerked her hand out of his grasp. The connection between them still sizzled, even under the current circumstances. It would never go away, but this was all still make-believe and she’d kept too many secrets from Connor to ever make this anything more than playacting.

“Since it’s still before noon, how about a mimosa?” She ran a finger down a plastic drink menu. “The pomegranate mimosa, please.”

“It’s one of our most popular. And you, Connor? The usual?”

“That’ll do.”

Maybe nobody at this tourist trap knew Connor enough to ask probing questions, but they knew who he was. Everyone in San Juan Beach had known the Wells family. Her own mother had always told her to cozy up to Connor. The Wells family not only had position, they had money or at least land, which always translated into money.

She’d cozied up to him, but it hadn’t been for power or money—and now she had plenty of the latter, thanks to Niles’s death.

As the waiter walked away, Savannah tapped the side of her water glass. “The usual?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of wine tasting the past few years, and I found one I liked here.” He shrugged. “I’m a creature of habit.”

Savannah cranked her head over her shoulder at the loud voices coming from the bar. “Football game?”

Connor bolted upright in his chair, craning his neck toward the bar. “Not sure why they’d be pointing at us if it were.”

As Savannah’s gaze darted among the faces turned their way, she placed a hand against the fluttering in her belly. Was there news about Niles?

The bartender, Angel Cruz, burst through the low swinging door that led behind the bar and charged into the dining room. “Connor, there’s a fire—at your place.”

Connor jumped from the table, knocking over his glass of water. “The vines?”

“I don’t think so, man.” Angel tapped the cell phone in his hand. “My buddy said it’s a structure.”

“The house? Not the house.” Savannah had tossed her napkin on the table and pushed back her chair.

“It’s not the house, either. Some building on the property between the house and the vineyard.”

“I’ll settle this tab later.” Connor swirled his finger above the table. “Fire department already there?”

“Yeah, yeah. Go, dude. Don’t worry about this stuff.”

Connor grabbed her arm and practically dragged her from the restaurant.

When they hit the parking lot, Savannah shook him off. “It sounds like it’s under control, Connor, and thank God it’s not the vines or the house.”

“You don’t understand, Savannah.” He put his lips close to her ear. “The building that’s burning? That’s where I hid the knife.”

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