The second Buried Secrets romance in Gail Barrett’s compelling new trilogy!

Sullivan Turner doesn’t see a hero when he looks in the mirror—he sees only a hollow shell of the man he used to be. But redemption comes when he rescues a woman with a dark secret. Teenage-runaway-turned-social-worker Haley Barnes knows firsthand how savage Baltimore’s streets can be.

Years ago, Haley witnessed an event that changed her life. Now, when the teenagers she guards are targeted, she seeks protection from a cynical army veteran. It isn’t long before passions ignite between Haley and “Sully.” Can he be the hero Haley needs, the hero who will protect her when a ruthless murderer comes calling?

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me. I never cry.”

Haley wiped her eyes on her shirtsleeve, but tears still beaded in her long lashes.

“You deserve to cry. What they did to you…” Sully clenched his jaw against the reckless words crowding his throat.

“It happened a long time ago. I never think about them anymore. And the baby…” A sheen of tears sprang to her eyes again. “That was…hard. But I can’t change the past. I’ve had to accept it and move on.”

He reached out and smudged away a tear. She was amazing, the most courageous woman he knew. She’d fought for her sister, the teenagers in her shelter, even him.

But who had fought for her?

“Sully.” Her whisper whipped through him.

His body went taut, the invitation in her eyes impossible to miss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, her lips soft, almost tentative, a benediction to his aching soul.

Shuddering, he deepened the kiss….

Dear Reader,

I have the utmost admiration for the members of our armed forces. My husband was a career military officer. My father served in World War Two, and my youngest son is on active duty right now. I appreciate their sacrifices, including the time they spend away from their families, and the risks they take to keep us safe.

But my heart really aches for those men and women who come back damaged from their experiences, lost in horrific memories they can never escape. Sullivan Turner, the hero of A Kiss to Die For, is one such tortured man. Sully went to war with the idealism of youth, hoping to make a difference in the world, but returned a broken man, his failures made worse by addiction and guilt. I hope you enjoy his journey as he meets the woman who has the power to heal him and finds the redemption he desperately needs.

Happy reading!

Gail Barrett

A Kiss to Die for

Gail Barrett

www.millsandboon.co.uk

GAIL BARRETT

always knew she’d be a writer. Who else would spend her childhood grinding sparkling rocks into fairy dust and convincing her friends it was real? Or daydream her way through elementary school, spend high school reading philosophy and playing the bagpipes, then head off to Spain during college to live the writer’s life? After four years she straggled back home—broke, but fluent in Spanish. She became a teacher, earned a master’s degree in linguistics, married a Coast Guard officer and had two sons.

But she never lost the desire to write. Then one day she discovered a Silhouette Intimate Moments novel in a bookstore—and knew she was destined to write romance. Her books have won numerous awards, including a National Readers’ Choice Award and Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart.

Gail currently lives in Western Maryland. Readers can contact her through her website, www.gailbarrett.com.

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Dedication

To Karen Anders, a wonderful friend.

Acknowledgments

I’d like to thank Gail Reinhart and Monique Sherman Hannigan for answering my questions about the Georgetown Law Center. I also owe enormous thanks to my sister, Mary Jo Archer, for her emergency proofreading sessions and unending support.

You’re the best!

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Excerpt

Chapter 1

Trouble was brewing. Haley Barnes could feel it. She’d spent enough years living on the streets to know.

She stood on the steps of her shelter for pregnant teenagers, her gaze on the dusky street. No traffic rumbled by. No D.C. commuters hurried past, despite the evening hour. Even the homeless man who’d taken up residence in the empty row house several doors down had gone to ground, drowning who-knew-what demons in a bottle, no doubt. And her teenagers were safe inside the shelter, warming themselves before the fire.

Except for one. The one who worried her the most.

Ignoring the premonition of danger stirring inside her, Haley hurried down the steps to the sidewalk, then started up the empty street, heading toward the metro station where the runaways sometimes hung out. She should have watched Lindsey more closely. The teen had exhibited the classic signs of depression—refusing to eat, unable to sleep, rebuffing Haley’s attempts to talk. Instead, she’d withdrawn into a sad kind of silence, slipping outside when no one was looking, and nine hours later, she hadn’t come back.

Not that Haley blamed her for feeling depressed. Lindsey was fourteen and pregnant. Her boyfriend had dumped her, her family disowned her—and Haley knew exactly how that felt. She understood the despair that threatened to engulf her, the terror of her unknown future, the knowledge that her childhood had abruptly ended in the most fundamental of ways.

Haley had tried to offer her comfort, to give her a shoulder to lean on and pull her back from the brink. But the girl had rejected every overture of help. She’d retreated into moroseness, into the overwhelming dejection of someone who’d given up hope. Haley just prayed she hadn’t done anything drastic—to herself or that unborn child.

Her sense of urgency mounting, Haley hurried down the cracked sidewalk, the low drumming of subwoofers a block away quickening her pulse. Trouble was right. The Ridgewood gang was on the prowl. No wonder everyone had fled the street. No one with any sense would risk confronting that violent group.

But she refused to give up. She’d made it her life’s mission to help these troubled girls, to give them the acceptance and safe haven she’d lacked. She knew the desperation that drove them, the terrible dangers that awaited them on D.C.’s brutal streets.

And she didn’t intend to lose one now.

The wind gusted hard, pushing loose strands of hair into her eyes, and she paused to shove them back. She scanned the row houses bordering the street, the late-model cars lined up along the curb, and searched for the missing girl. Her gaze landed on the dilapidated row house where the homeless man holed up. Another wounded soul. Another loner adrift in an uncaring world. Another stray she wanted to save.

One stray at a time. She had Lindsey to worry about first.

She just prayed she could find her in time.

* * *

Staff Sergeant Sullivan Turner slumped against the wall in his best friend’s row house, the whisper of oncoming danger prickling his nerves. Not his problem, he reminded himself firmly. Fighting the bad guys hadn’t been his problem in months—nine long months, to be exact. Not since he’d returned to civilian life.

He knocked back a swallow of vodka, then rubbed his aching leg. Dusk crept through the empty room, shrouding the corners in darkness, but it did nothing to subdue his nerves. He dreaded the night, dreaded battling the memories that inevitably flashed back, reminders of the ambush that had claimed his buddies’ lives. And he especially dreaded confronting the failures he couldn’t erase, no matter how much alcohol he drank.

He closed his eyes, inhaling around the desolation gripping his chest, and willed the images aside. He couldn’t afford to go there. He couldn’t afford to picture their grinning faces and remember the deaths he’d caused. And he definitely couldn’t afford to envision his best friend Jason’s cocky grin, that instant when he’d turned around, preparing to launch another laughing insult at Sully just as his world had come to an end.

By some miracle, Sully had survived. But his survival hadn’t been a blessing; it was a curse. A curse that would plague him until the day he died.

Determined to hold off the flashbacks, he drained the bottle of vodka and hefted himself to his feet. It was going to be one hell of a night, his wounded leg already aching with a vengeance, unwanted memories bombarding him like those RPGs that destroyed his squad. He tossed the empty bottle onto the counter and twisted the cap on another, but a faint mewling sound made him pause. Frowning, he limped across the kitchen to the glass door leading to the patio, his steps thudding on the wooden floor.

A furry animal huddled on the step outside. Great. Just what he didn’t need—a cat. If he could call him that. He was the most pathetic creature Sully had ever seen, with one missing eye, flea-bitten ears encrusted with filth and a scraggly, crooked tail. His fur was mangy and gray. A shock of white stuck up on his ruff, matching his face and legs. He had a lame front paw, a limp that matched Sully’s own. His chest swelled with unbidden sympathy—a feeling he couldn’t afford.

“Go away,” he told the cat through the glass door. “I’m not taking care of you.”

The cat meowed and gave him a beseeching look with his good eye. Then the wind bore down again, ruffling what remained of his matted fur. He hunched his back, his thin body so undernourished, Sully was surprised he didn’t blow away. More kitten than cat, he decided. Lost and alone. Another misfit wandering the streets.

“All right,” he grumbled. “But just this once.”

Swearing, he shuffled back into the kitchen, his own stomach growling as he opened his last can of tuna—the sum total of his remaining food. But what the hell. The cat needed it more than he did. He cracked open the sliding glass door, nudging the cat back to keep him from slipping inside, and set the can on the ground.

“Don’t think I’m doing this all the time,” he warned him. “Don’t start hanging around, expecting handouts. I don’t need a damned pet.”

He shut the door. He didn’t need anyone to take care of—or another failure to add to the list. He’d already let everyone down enough.

Pushing aside thoughts of the needy cat, he crossed the empty room to the front window, his steps echoing in the gloom. The house had no electricity, no heat, no hot water. No furniture, except for the mattress Sully had hauled inside. Jason had cleared out before his last deployment, as if he’d known he wouldn’t be back. And for some unfathomable reason, he’d willed the place to Sully, his best friend since childhood.

The best friend who’d caused his death.

Sully braced his forearm on the glass and worked his jaw, trying to control the flood of regrets. Shadows bled across the pockmarked yard. Bare tree branches scratched at the gloomy sky. His sense of foreboding grew stronger, and he frowned at the empty street. He’d once trusted his instincts for danger. But then, he’d once felt invincible. He’d once believed in good versus evil, the glory and necessity of war.

No more.

The rhythmic thud of subwoofers made the floor pulse, rumbling through the lug soles of Sully’s boots. Tensing even more now, he skimmed the houses up the street, eyeing their peeling paint, their house numbers hanging askew, the weedy yards littered with trash. There was no sign of the approaching car, no sign of the gang that had been making inroads into the neighborhood. But he wasn’t fooled. The bad guys were out there.

And evil always won.

He shoved away from the window, but a motion on the sidewalk caught his eye. A woman hurried into view, her long woolen coat flapping in the wind, her thick chestnut hair whipping around her face. The woman who ran the teen shelter. He’d seen her from a distance a couple of times. But this close he caught the elegance in her slender frame, the graceful way she moved. She had clear, creamy skin, an open, appealing face. She was in her early thirties, he guessed, and wholesome in a girl-next-door sort of way.

Wholesome. Right. Just what the world didn’t need—another misguided do-gooder, idealistic and naive. A crusader out to save humanity.

He’d once been the same.

Well, he definitely knew better now.

A movement in the opposite direction grabbed his attention, and he turned his head. A teenager waddled into view across the street, heading the woman’s way. One of the pregnant teenagers who stayed in the shelter. Her swollen belly gave her away.

The vibrations deepened and rattled the window. Rap music now boomed out, the spew of angry lyrics throbbing through Sully’s skull. He shifted his weight from his aching leg, his nerves coiling tighter as he watched the street. A vehicle crawled into view, a black SUV with dark tinted windows, pimped out with flashy chrome. Gangbangers. He’d seen them cruising the neighborhood in the past few days, staking their claim to the territory, challenging anyone who stood in their way.

But this situation felt different. They were driving too slowly, inching down the street with lethal intent. Was a drug deal going down—or something worse?

What did it matter? This wasn’t his problem. He had no reason to get involved.

And yet... He stood motionless at the window, his attention riveted on the unfolding scene. The young kid crossing the street. The SUV steadily approaching. The woman from the shelter scurrying along the sidewalk as she rushed toward the pregnant teen.

He didn’t like this. His instincts were clamoring hard. He needed to get those women off the street pronto before someone ended up dead.

Kicking into gear now, he reached into his waistband and tugged out his Glock—a holdover from his army days. Then, keeping his gaze glued on the oncoming vehicle, he limped to the front door. He pulled it open and stepped outside onto the sagging porch.

The cold air brushed his skin. The heavy bass from the SUV thundered through his chest. The pregnant girl was halfway across the street now, her face registering fear as she caught sight of the gang.

The tinted windows on the SUV rolled down. The barrel of a rifle appeared, the shock of it halting his steps. An E-13. He couldn’t mistake the experimental weapon with its distinctive bullpup configuration, even from this far away.

And they were going to use it to shoot that kid.

Without warning, the shelter woman darted into the street, straight into the line of fire, and his heart careened to a stop. She didn’t have a chance. The gang would mow her down before she made it three more feet.

He leaped off the porch and charged.

* * *

She wasn’t going to make it. She’d never get Lindsey to safety before the gang began to shoot. She’d just run out of time.

A shot barked out from the vehicle. The girl let out a panicked scream. Desperation erupting inside her, Haley lunged to Lindsey’s side, staying between her and the SUV in an attempt to shield her and that precious babe.

But then a man barreled into the street out of nowhere. Startled, she whipped around. She caught sight of shaggy blond hair and furious eyes as he rushed toward her, a pistol in his left hand.

“Go!” he shouted. “Take cover behind the car!”

Haley didn’t hesitate. Dragging Lindsey with her, she sprinted toward the curb while the man opened fire on the SUV, the sharp reports thundering through the air. She dove to the ground, pushing Lindsey behind the engine block, deliriously grateful for the mystery man’s help. But who was he? Where had he come from? And where had he gotten that gun?

The gang returned fire, the staccato of semi-automatic gunfire making her flinch. Fearing bullets would penetrate the vehicle, she flattened herself over the teenager, determined to protect her at any cost. Their avenger ducked behind a nearby tree, but a new horror fisted in Haley’s throat. He’d helped rescue the teenager—but now the gang was shooting at him. How could he possibly survive?

The shots went on forever, the rapid-fire stream of bullets shattering the windows on the house nearby. More shots slammed into the car, the force of the deadly blasts making it rock. Hardly able to think straight, Haley covered the girl’s head, total pandemonium breaking loose inside. They’d never make it out alive.

The shooting paused. Rap music drummed through the silence, the menacing sound stoking her nerves. Their rescuer sprang out from behind the tree, firing several rounds at the SUV as he raced over and dove behind the parked car. He landed close beside her, breathing hard.

She spared a glance his way, gathering a quick impression of dark, slashing brows, a steel jaw lined with heavy stubble, shoulders so broad they blocked the light. He ejected a spent magazine, then slammed another into his gun without looking at her. Whoever he was, whatever guardian angel had sent this commando to save them, they owed him their lives.

Assuming any of them survived.

“Stay right there,” he shouted as more gunfire tatted out, and she covered her ringing ears. But the firefight raged, the noise horrific. Bullets sprayed the parked cars. Haley tried her best to shield the teenager, but the futility of their predicament hit her hard. How could they escape this? The three of them were doomed.

The din grew even louder, the cacophony so overwhelming she thought her head would splinter apart. Then the shooting abruptly stopped. Tires squealed and the SUV zoomed off. The thumping music grew fainter as the vehicle drove farther away.

For a minute, she didn’t move. She gasped for breath, her pulse still chaotic at the close call. Her ears throbbed in the painful silence, the girl’s frantic whimpers finally penetrating her daze.

“Are you all right?” the man asked.

His low, gravelly voice drew her attention, and she turned her head. She met his grim, whiskey-hued eyes, and her belly made a little clutch, the reaction catching her unprepared. Startled, she took in his dark, furrowed brows, the stark angles of his craggy face. He had straight, collar-length hair dampened with sweat, a slightly off-center nose that hinted at less than a choirboy past. A few days’ worth of razor stubble—several shades darker than his blond hair—covered his throat and jaw.

Her heart took another swerve. He wasn’t exactly handsome. But man, oh man, was he attractive. Arresting. Thoroughly masculine in a decidedly carnal way. He looked like an old-fashioned gunslinger, like the loner who rode into town, risking his life to battle the bad guys and save the day. A solitary man in need of comfort who left behind a trail of broken hearts as he rode away.

This was the homeless man, she realized with a start. But he was nothing like she’d expected. He was younger—in his midthirties at most—and far more virile. He wore work boots and tattered jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt he’d pushed up to his elbows, exposing the tendons roping his arms. His hands were big and lean. He cradled the gun with lethal ease.

He was the sexiest man she’d ever seen.

Her throat suddenly dry, she managed a nod. “I’m fine.” Thanks to you.

“Well, you’re damned lucky. What the hell were you thinking, running out into the street like that? You could have been killed.”

His sudden anger took her aback. “I had to protect Lindsey. I couldn’t let them...” Suddenly remembering the pregnant teenager, she rolled aside. “Oh, God. Lindsey. Are you hurt?”

The girl lifted her head, her eyes huge in her too-pale face. “I’m okay. But...what happened? Who was that? Why were they shooting at us?”

Haley’s mouth went flat, her own anger stirring now. “The Ridgewood gang.” Based primarily in Baltimore, the gang had recently begun making inroads into nearby Washington, D.C., in an effort to control the heroin trade. And she’d be damned if they’d chase her out.

Grabbing hold of the car’s door handle, she pulled herself upright, more shaken than she cared to admit. She’d been in a lot of danger during her homeless years, but this incident ranked up there with the worst.

The man reached out his hand to the teenager and helped her to her feet. And Haley couldn’t help but blink. He towered above them, his wide shoulders heavy with muscle, his lean body whittled of any fat. And he’d materialized by magic, like some sort of avenging angel.

A very earthly angel. Her heart made another lurch.

“Who are you?” Lindsey sounded just as awed.

“Sully. Sullivan Turner.”

His deep voice rumbled through Haley like a caress. Braced for the sensual impact, she met his gaze dead-on. “Well, Sully Turner. I have to thank you. You saved our lives.”

His eyes narrowed a fraction. “So why were they shooting at you?”

“Wrong place, wrong time, I guess. They’re establishing their territory, and we got in their way.”

“I don’t think so.”

She paused. “What do you mean? You think they were targeting us specifically?”

“That’s how it looked from where I stood.”

Her belly dipped. Dread whispered through her, a memory ghosting back from the past. But that was nuts. The killer couldn’t have found her. There was no way he would know where she was—not after all these years. And even if he did, why would he want to harm her? The actual shooters were dead now. She couldn’t implicate anyone else in that long-ago crime. She had nothing to worry about. She was safe.

“That’s crazy. That shooting was random.” It had to be. Because the alternative scared her down to her bones.

“If you say so.” His eyes skeptical, Sully stuffed his pistol into the waistband of his jeans. “Come on. You need to get off the street before they come back.”

Her heart skittered a beat. “Why would they come back?”

“I hit one. I’m not sure how bad he’s bleeding, but they’re going to retaliate.”

He was right. The gang wouldn’t let a challenge like that go unanswered, especially when they were determined to rule the street. They would insist on exacting revenge.

Which meant Lindsey wasn’t safe. The other girls in her care weren’t safe. Even this homeless man wasn’t safe. He was a marked man now—because he’d rescued her.

She’d endangered the life of an innocent man.

Again.

Chapter 2

Sully limped up the sidewalk beside the woman, his hands trembling, his pulse jumping, a cold sweat beading his palms. That semi-automatic gunfire kept ricocheting through his mind in an endless loop, making it hard to distinguish his nightmares from fact.

But one thing was clear, even to his battle-fogged brain. Something was terribly wrong here. The gang gunning down two unarmed women to establish their territory didn’t make sense. It would bring the police force out in droves, giving them unwanted scrutiny, something they’d never risk. And he’d seen the doubt flitting through the woman’s eyes, that flicker of remembered fear. She was hiding something. Something important. Something to do with that ruthless gang.

Stuffing his shaking hands into his pockets, he slid her a sideways glance. She didn’t look like the type to consort with gang members. She looked too innocent, too decent with those wide, hazel eyes, that lush and tempting mouth. Her thick hair gleamed in the twilight, streaks of sorrel and mahogany mixed with the chestnut brown. But after her reckless dash into the street—defying bullets to save that kid—he could imagine her doing something foolhardy and ticking them off.

But who she was, what the gang wanted from her—none of that mattered to him. It couldn’t. He’d already interfered in her life enough. He’d just accompany her to her shelter, make sure she and the kid got inside safely and leave. He refused to get more involved.

They reached her row house a minute later, and the pregnant teenager rushed up the steps. Sully hung back, taking in the freshly painted black shutters, the pale yellow bricks of the facade. Pumpkins lined the porch. An autumn wreath hung on the door. The place was an anomaly on the rundown street, an oasis of cheerfulness and warmth. But he guessed that was the point of a shelter. The small plaque beneath the wreath read Always Home.

She paused on the step above him and turned around. “I’m sorry. I never introduced myself. I’m more rattled than I thought. I’m Haley. Haley Barnes.”

For a moment, he couldn’t answer. Her greenish-brown eyes held him spellbound, the lilt of her voice derailing his thoughts. His heart sped up, the sudden punch of adrenaline catching him off guard.

But then the door swung open behind her. She turned and hurried up the remaining steps. Stunned at his reaction, he followed more slowly, trying to wrap his head around what had occurred. What the hell was he thinking? Sure, she was pretty. And even though he deserved to be, he wasn’t exactly dead.

But this woman was beyond off-limits. She came from a different world. And the last thing she needed in her life was a man like him—a washed-up, wounded ex-soldier, an alcoholic plagued with flashbacks, a man so haunted by his failures that he could barely make it through the night, let alone take care of her.

Shaking himself back to his senses, he stepped over the threshold into the room. The shelter had the same layout as Jason’s row house, but the similarities ended there. This place had gleaming hardwood floors, a banked fire smoldering in the fireplace, the embers glowing red and orange. Oversize armchairs surrounded the fireplace. A basket of pinecones sat on the hearth. Beneath the window was an inviting sofa, piled high with faded quilts. The place even smelled appealing, like cinnamon and pumpkin pie.

Always Home. She’d created a home, all right, a cozy refuge for the teenage girls. The kind of place he had no right to after that debacle in the desert sand.

He shifted his gaze, taking in the half-dozen girls clustered by a wooden staircase—all pregnant, all young, their eyes too knowing for their tender age. Like the kids he’d seen in Afghanistan. They’d had those same half-dead, traumatized eyes.

“We need to leave,” Haley told the girls. “Right away, before that gang comes back. Gather your things and meet me back here. Fast.” Her voice was soft and calm, but authoritative—the voice of a woman used to taking charge. And the girls obeyed without question, racing up the staircase while she pulled out her phone.

“You have somewhere to go?” he asked, catching her gaze.

She nodded, but a small crease marred her brow. “There’s another shelter near here. I’m calling them now to see if they have room.”

Sully crossed his arms and waited while she murmured into the phone. In less time than he’d expected, the girls traipsed back down the stairs. They all traveled light, each carrying a single knapsack slung over their backs.

A siren broke out in the distance. A second later, another one joined in. Haley pocketed her cell phone and turned to the girls. “All right. Is everyone here?”

The teenagers murmured assent.

“Good. I want to get out of here before the police show up.”

Sully didn’t blame her. The cops would descend in droves. They’d cordon off the street and canvass the neighbors, questioning everyone multiple times. He’d resigned himself to the scrutiny; he could hardly avoid it since his pistol shell casings littered the road. But Haley couldn’t afford the delay. She needed to get those kids to safety before the gang regrouped.

“We need to stick together,” she continued. “It’s not far, just a few blocks. Walk as quietly and quickly as you can.”

Sully’s head came up. “Wait a minute. You don’t have a car?”

Her gaze swung to his. “It’s in the shop. They’re going to meet us by the bridge and take us there.”

Frowning, he rubbed his bristly jaw. He didn’t like this. They’d be too exposed on foot. They’d been lucky enough to survive the first attack with just one kid in tow. An entire group of pregnant teenagers made them sitting ducks.

“I’ll go with you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“The hell it isn’t. What if that gang shows up?”

Her face paled, but she raised her chin. “We’ll deal with it. You’ve done enough. I appreciate your help, a lot. But—”

“I’m armed, and you’re not. You need somebody to guard your back. Now, let’s get going. We’re wasting time.”

Doubt flickered in her eyes. She glanced at the girls and back, clearly reluctant to agree. But then she gave him a nod. “Fine. Thanks.”

He knew she didn’t want to involve him. And who could blame her? Who’d want a derelict like him around? But he had to give her points. She did what she needed to protect the girls.

Or she knew more about that gang than she’d let on.

She turned back to the pregnant teens. “Let’s go, then. We’ll leave through the back.”

Careful to keep his distance, Sully followed the girls through the kitchen to the fenced-in patio, then waited while she locked the door. She paused to embrace Lindsey, then murmured something to another teen, evoking a shaky smile.

The girls liked her, he realized. And why not? There was something comforting about her. She was gentle and warm, but in a take-charge sort of way. She radiated confidence, reassurance. She was the kind of woman they knew they could depend on, a woman who’d confronted a gang to save their lives. No wonder she drew them in.

Without warning, a wistfulness rose inside him, a yearning to bask in that soothing warmth. To forget the past, forget the evil lurking in the world, to feel whole and happy again.

Shocked, he pulled himself upright. What was wrong with him tonight? That gunfire hadn’t only triggered a flashback, it had knocked something loose in his head. Maybe once upon a time, he could have pursued her. Maybe before he’d lost his illusions. Maybe before he’d gone to war.

But not now. Not ever. He hardened his jaw, determined to keep his focus on what mattered—getting her and those kids to safety fast. Then he’d head back into exile where he belonged.

Before he succumbed to his sudden insanity and lost what little remained of his common sense.

* * *

Haley led the way out the back gate and through the alley, her senses sharp, the persistent feeling of danger mounting with every step. She scoured the deep shadows blanketing the tomb-like lane, the bushes frothing in the cold, night breeze. The sirens began to draw closer, the eerie sound ratcheting her tension up another notch, adding to the urge to flee.

But she had to give the girls credit. No one complained. No one panicked or lagged behind. They padded along in silence, the faint crunch of dried leaves under their feet the only sound. Now if she could just get them to that van in time....

She stole a quick glance back at their protector looming behind the girls. He walked with a decided limp, his steps amazingly stealthy despite his size. An ex-soldier, without a doubt. Possibly suffering from post-traumatic stress, given his reaction to the attack—sweating, shaking, his entire body bristling with the need to bolt.

She turned around with a sigh. She hated involving him in her problems. He’d already risked his life enough—and he’d clearly wanted to leave. But frankly, she needed his help. She had the lives of six pregnant teenagers on her hands, not to mention their unborn babes.

And she had to admit that he intrigued her. That naked longing she’d glimpsed in his eyes—that hint of vulnerability he’d quickly masked—had aroused every nurturing instinct she possessed. He was an enigma, a strong, taciturn man wrapped in a body that vibrated with sexual hunger—nearly impossible to resist.

But she definitely had to resist him. She had no business thinking about Sully Turner that way. She had nothing to offer a man like him long-term. Short-term, either, if her nightmares had come true and her past had caught up to her at last.

She stopped at the end of the alley and waited for the girls to catch up. Her apprehension growing, she glanced around, wondering if she’d made a mistake. She thought they’d have time to escape before the gang returned. But what if they didn’t? What if the gang came back sooner than she’d anticipated and caught them out here alone? Even with Sully providing cover, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

The girls formed a circle around her, waiting for instructions. The wind blew hard, and she shivered inside her wool coat. “Okay, listen up.” She didn’t want to scare them, but she had to make sure they understood. “There’ll be a white panel van waiting on the corner of Massachusetts Avenue. I don’t think anything will happen, but if it does, if you hear gunshots or we get separated for any reason, just run to the van. Don’t look back. Don’t wait for me. As soon as you’re all there, just go. I’ll catch up later. All right?”

The girls murmured their agreement, but she could sense their dismay. “Don’t worry.” Giving them each a hug, she did her best to keep them calm. “We’re all going to be fine.” She hoped. She’d never forgive herself if they came to harm.

Letting the girls precede her, she fell in beside Sully at the rear. They crossed the road at the corner market and continued up a quiet side street, past an empty lot. A car drove by, quickening her pulse, but it didn’t stop. A city bus lumbered past, heading the opposite way. But still no sign of the gang.

They made it to another cross street and started up the following block. The street was residential, the faint light from the row houses casting a gleam across their path. She slid Sully a glance, taking in the jut of his rugged jaw, the leashed power in his muscled frame, the intensity in his eyes as he scanned the street. Thank goodness he’d come along. Even with the odds against them, he made her feel less exposed.

The road curved. She spotted the white panel van, just one more block ahead. Almost there. She opened her mouth to say so, but gunfire suddenly broke out, the sharp reports shattering the calm. Sully whipped out his gun and spun around. “Run!”

The teenagers scattered at once. Frantic to protect them, Haley raced after them up the street. More shots rang out and she put on a burst of speed, praying they’d make it to the van in time. Up ahead, the fastest girls leaped inside.

Just three more kids to go.

But then, Lindsey stumbled and fell, landing on the pavement with an anguished cry. Haley darted over and pulled her up.

“I’m fine,” the girl gasped, staggering upright. Another shot erupted, and she let out a panicked shriek.

“Go!” Haley urged, and the teenager sprinted away. But where was Sully? Had he been hit? She whirled on her heels to see.

Then he charged toward her out of the darkness and seized her arm. “Over here! Come on!”

Still gripping her biceps, he dragged her toward an alley behind a house. Haley caught a glimpse of Lindsey at the corner, climbing into the van. The passenger door slid shut, and the van roared off into the night. The girls were safe, thank God. But she and Sully were exposed now, the gang in full pursuit.

She raced with him down the alley, their footsteps hammering the ground. Her lungs heaved. Her thigh muscles burned, but she forced herself to go on. Then Sully jerked her to a halt, dragging her behind a Dumpster along the fence. “Stay here.”

“What? No way. You’re not fighting them alone.” Not after she’d caused this mess.

“You’re not armed. Just stay put, and I’ll be right back.” Not waiting for an answer, he crept away.

Clinging to the Dumpster, she gasped for breath. She wasn’t about to let him face that gang without her, no matter what he thought.

But he was right about the weapon. She wouldn’t do any good unarmed. Standing on her tiptoes, she lifted the lid on the Dumpster and peered inside, but all she could make out in the darkness were mounds of plastic bags.

The rapid thud of approaching footsteps reached her ears. Not Sully. The steps were too even. They lacked his distinctive limp.

Her desperation surging, she searched the shadows around the Dumpster for a way to defend herself. She spotted a two-by-four and picked it up, then flattened herself against the metal container to wait.

Her palms began to sweat. Her heartbeat ran completely amok. She listened intently, every sense focused on the person coming her way.

The footsteps slowed. She held her breath, keeping her body completely still. Then a man stepped into view, holding a gun. Knowing she’d only have one chance, one split second to surprise him and knock him out, she raised the board, then slammed it against his skull. A sickening crack rent the night. Pain radiated up her arms, and she bit down hard on a moan. The man sank to the pavement, his body limp. His pistol skidded away.

But more footsteps pounded nearby, the sudden flurry of activity jump-starting her pulse. She lifted the board again, preparing to strike.

“It’s me,” Sully called out. A second later, he emerged from the darkness and limped to her side.

Her breath rushed out. She staggered to the Dumpster and slumped against it, dizzy with relief. “What happened?”

“They’re gone. There were only a couple of them this time, and I chased them off.”

“Not all of them.” She gestured to the man on the ground.

“Hell.” His eyes shot to hers. “Are you all right?”

Pressing a hand to her chest, she gave him a nod. “Just winded.” And her arm ached. “He dropped his gun. I’m not sure where it went.”

He held her gaze for a heartbeat, his expression impossible to read in the dusky night. Then he turned away and searched the ground. “Here it is.” He retrieved the gun, then dropped to one knee beside her attacker and rolled him onto his back.

“He’s not dead, is he?” Even though he’d intended to harm her, she hated to think that she’d killed the man.

“No, just unconscious. You recognize him?”

She tossed aside the board and stepped closer, trying to make out his features in the dark. He looked young, not much older than the girls in her shelter, with light-colored hair and skin. Blood trickled down his jaw toward a dark form writhing across his neck. “Is that a snake tattoo?”

“Looks like it.”

“Then he’s a member of the Ridgewood gang. That’s one of their signs.”

Sully grunted. He checked the gang member’s pockets, unearthing a wicked-looking knife, several magazines for the handgun and a cell phone. He tucked the weapons into his pockets and rose, then turned on the phone and checked the calls.

Suddenly, he went stock-still.

“What is it?” Her apprehension rising, she searched his face.

His gaze cut to hers, the sudden suspicion in his eyes jolting her heart. “What did you say your name was?”

“Haley Barnes.”

“Not Burroughs?”

Her lungs stopped dead. Burroughs. No one had called her that in years. Fifteen years, to be exact. Fifteen terrifying years spent running for her life. But how would the gang know her name?

“I...I go by Barnes now. But Burroughs...” She tried to swallow, but failed. “That used to be my name. Why do you ask?”

Sully’s gaze stayed on hers. Several charged seconds crawled past. Dread pounded inside her, so fierce she could hardly breathe.

Then Sully held up the cell phone for her to see. “This guy got a text message. There’s a reward for the capture of Haley Burroughs—and it’s double if you’re brought in dead.”

Chapter 3

She had a price on her head.

Haley jogged down the alley beside Sully, the revelation making her reel. That shooting hadn’t been random. They’d targeted her specifically. Her. Haley Burroughs.

They knew who she really was.

And they’d put a bounty on her head. Now every criminal on the east coast would be gunning for her to claim the prize. And if that weren’t bad enough, she was more valuable dead than alive.

Sully slowed to a walk and she followed suit, trying to come to grips with that awful thought. “So what’s going on?” he asked.

She glanced at his steely face, knowing she had to explain. He’d rescued the girls. He’d risked his life for her. Twice. She’d swept him into this lethal mess, painting a gang target on his back—and all because he’d tried to help.

“This can’t be a typical turf war if they’re after you,” he added.

She pressed her hand to her belly to quiet her nerves. “You’re right. It’s not.” It was far, far worse. Her past had come back to haunt her. Her worst fear had just come true.

“It’s complicated,” she hedged.

“Try me.”

Hesitating, she looked away. She never revealed her past. She’d concealed her identity and stayed on the run for years. And even though she’d thought the danger had finally passed, that it was safe to return to the mid-Atlantic area, she still used a pseudonym and stayed out of the limelight in case someone recognized her.

But she could trust this man. He’d leaped into the path of danger, putting his life on the line on her behalf. And she owed him the truth after all he’d done.

But first they needed to find a place to hide. They couldn’t stay on the street, exposed. Her shelter would do no good; the gang would have it staked out. And neither could they join the teenagers and risk leading the danger to them.

She caught Sully’s gaze. “All right,” she said. “I’ll tell you. But we need to find a taxi first. A friend of mine lives in Baltimore with her fiancé, and I need to let them know what’s going on.”

“Baltimore? That’s forty miles away.”

“I know. The fare’s going to be through the roof. But they’re involved in this, too. And my friend’s fiancé is a cop. We can talk while we’re on the way.”

He frowned at that. She didn’t blame him if he wanted to bolt. He probably regretted setting eyes on her considering the disaster she’d mired him in.

“A cop, huh?”

“Yes. His name’s Parker McCall. He’s a detective with the Baltimore Police Department.” A sudden thought gave her pause. “Is that a problem?”

His gaze snapped to hers. “You think I’m a criminal?”

“No, of course not.” She trusted her instincts about people. She’d had to as a runaway if she’d hoped to survive. And whatever tormented Sully was inside him. Deep inside. If he was fleeing, it was from himself.

He plowed his hand through his shaggy hair. “All right. I’ll go with you.”

“Good.” She started across the street. “We can catch a taxi at the Colonial Hotel. It’s just a few blocks from here.”

Inhaling, she tried to regroup. She eyed the traffic whizzing past, the people standing across the street, waiting for the metro bus. The normality of the scene felt bizarre. They’d barely lived through a gun battle, and yet the world went on unaffected with people continuing their usual lives.

But she couldn’t let the peacefulness fool her. She had the Ridgewood gang hunting her down. Someone was determined to see her dead. But was it really that long-ago killer? How could he have discovered her name?

“If I’m right,” she finally began, “this goes back to when I was a teenager. When I ran away from home.”

Sully turned his head. “You were a runaway?”

“Yes.” She picked up her pace, as if walking faster could help her escape the past. But she could never outrun that painful time—pregnant, her parents insisting on an abortion, her boyfriend unwilling to help raise the child. So she’d run away, determined to keep the baby, convinced she could make it on her own.

She’d been wrong. Her baby had paid the price.

So had she.

But Sully didn’t need to know all that. And it didn’t matter now. She’d come a long way since then. She was no longer that naive girl. “I was fifteen. It was tough.”

“I’ll bet.”

She slanted him a glance. He’d obviously seen enough of the streets to know. “I got lucky, though. I met two other girls. We stayed together for protection and became best friends. We still are.”

They stopped to wait for a red light. “Go on,” he said in his rusty voice.

The light changed to green, and she stepped into the street. “One of those girls was Brynn, the friend we’re going to see. She had a camera she always carried around. She wanted to be a photographer, even then. She’d decided to take some pictures of an abandoned warehouse. We tried to talk her out of it. Baltimore didn’t have many gangs back then, but there was one, the City of the Dead, and they ruled the neighborhood where the warehouse was. But we couldn’t convince her to stay away.

“Nadine and I went with her, but I was scared so we waited on the street outside.” A mistake she’d regretted ever since.

She swallowed hard, her belly tightening at the memory, but she forced herself to go on. “We were right to worry. She stumbled across a crime scene, a gang execution. She caught it on film.”

“They saw her?” Sully guessed.

She nodded. “They chased her. They chased us all.”

“So you saw them, too?”

“No. Brynn came flying out of the warehouse, shouting at us to run, so we did. I didn’t look back. And then I heard shots....”

Lost in the gruesome memory, she tripped. Sully lunged over and steadied her arm. She glanced up at his face, intending to thank him, but for an instant, his dark gold eyes held her riveted, the sheer maleness of him arresting her thoughts. And once again, his incredible appeal rolled through her, making her breath back up in her lungs.

He dropped her arm and stepped away.

Her face burned. Embarrassed at her reaction, she looked away. Lovely. This was all the poor man needed. They had their lives on the line, a vicious gang hunting them down—and her hormones chose this moment to go berserk.

Steering her thoughts back to her story, she cleared her throat. “Anyway, another runaway we knew was nearby. Tommy McCall. He was Parker’s younger brother. He got in their way, giving us a chance to escape. He saved our lives.”

“Was?”

That was the worst of it. “The gang killed him.” Tommy’s gallantry had cost him his life.

She lapsed into silence again, the guilt plaguing her even now. Tommy had died because of them.

Several cars sped past. The cold wind picked up, and she hunched deeper into her coat to escape the chill.

“So you never saw the shooters?” Sully asked, drawing her attention back to him.

“No, but they didn’t know that. And they saw me.”

“But your friend took pictures. So you know who they are.”

“Yes, but both of the shooters are dead now. The last one died a couple of weeks ago.”

He angled his head to meet her eyes. “Then who’s trying to kill you? And what does this have to do with the Ridgewood gang?”

She sighed. “I told you it was complicated. About ten years ago, the City of the Dead disbanded. Most of their members were dead by then. The ones who’d survived ended up merging with the Ridgewood gang. And it seems the leader of the original gang—the head honcho who ordered that execution in the warehouse—was one of the ones who survived.

“We don’t know much about him, just that he now has power. Lots of power. We think he even has ties to the police. In fact, he had Markus Jenkins released from jail—he’s the head of the Ridgewood gang.”

“And that’s who’s after you.”

“It’s the only explanation that makes sense right now. No one else would want me dead. What’s ironic is that none of us can identify him. We don’t have a clue who he is. But I guess he doesn’t want to take the chance.

“I don’t understand how he found me, though. We went on the run after that shooting. We changed our names and moved around the country for years. I only came back here a couple years ago to be closer to Brynn. And I’ve kept a really low profile since then.”

“But somehow he found you. He sent his gang after you.”

It was worse than that. She came to a stop. The dread inside her grew. “I haven’t used the last name Burroughs since I left home. I told you, I go by Haley Barnes now. So this killer knows who I really am. He’s figured out where I live.

“And he knows that you helped me.” Fear for him chilled her heart. “He’ll come after you, too, now. You’ll never be able to escape.”

And unless she managed to stop him, history would repeat itself. And another innocent man who tried to help her would lose his life.

* * *

Sully didn’t know what disturbed him more, to think of Haley as a teenage runaway or that she had a gang contract on her head.

He sat across from her in her friends’ Baltimore apartment, still reeling from what she’d revealed. She looked so damned fragile huddled on the sofa, her face drained of any color, her full lips flattened with worry, dark circles smudging her soft eyes. Every instinct inside him urged him to drag her off to a distant cave, to hole up with her somewhere safe and keep the danger from coming her way.

Not that she was defenseless. Far from it. She’d taken down that gang member. She’d run straight into a firefight to save that pregnant teen. But a powerful killer wanted her dead, a man who’d hunted her for fifteen years. How was she going to fight that?

It wasn’t his business. He’d done his job. He’d gotten her to Baltimore and informed her friends about the attacks. They’d added some details to Haley’s story—that the victim executed in the warehouse had been a junkie named Allen Chambers, and that one of the shooters had been a cop.

But he’d done his part. And now it was time to go. Her friends could take it from here.

They emerged from the kitchen just then. Brynn Elliot, a diminutive redhead with a heavily bandaged shoulder, settled next to Haley on the couch. Her fiancé took a seat on the armchair opposite his. Parker McCall was tall, nearly Sully’s height, with a steady, unflinching gaze—a man who inspired trust. He had one arm in a sling, courtesy of the same gun battle that wounded Brynn.

“We made some calls,” Brynn told Haley. “Parker can get you into a safe house. Both of you,” she added, glancing Sully’s way.

“Thanks, but I’ll be all right on my own.”

“I’m not going into hiding, either,” Haley said.

“It’s not forever,” her friend told her. “Just until we track this guy down.”

“But—”

“Haley, you’ve got a reward on your head.” Exasperation tinged Brynn’s voice. “The Ridgewood gang’s going to be searching for you everywhere. You’ve got to go somewhere safe.”

The cop shifted forward, drawing their gaze. “Brynn’s right. It’s too dangerous. You need to go to a safe house.”

“You’re not hiding,” Haley pointed out. “And you’re in as much danger as I am.”

The redhead shook her head. “No, I’m not. There isn’t a contract out on me.”

“That you know of.”

“Right. But I’ve also got Parker to watch my back.”

Whereas Haley was on her own. Sully clasped his hands, trying not to care. Not his business, he reminded himself fiercely. He needed to forget her plight, forget the fear shadowing her lovely eyes, forget how soft she’d felt when he’d held her arm.

“It’s only for a while,” her friend argued. “Only until we find out who’s behind all this.”

“And how long will that take? Months? Years? You said you aren’t making progress.”

Sully frowned at that. “You don’t have any leads?”

“No.” Parker grimaced. “It’s someone high up. We know that much. Everyone’s running scared. All our snitches refuse to talk.”

“All the more reason to hide,” Brynn pointed out.

But Haley only shook her head. “Look. I know you mean well. It makes sense to lay low for a while. And the runaways don’t need me now. They’re safer if I stay away.

“But I don’t want to hide. I’ve spent too many years on the run—and the danger still hasn’t gone away. And I’m sick of it. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder, wondering when he’s going to catch up. I have to at least try to fight back.”

“How?” Sully cut in, not liking how this was going. “You can’t fight a gang like that. Christ, you saw them. They even had an E-13.”

The cop shot him a startled glance. “What?”

Sully exhaled. “I forgot to tell you. They had one in the car.”

“An E-13? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I fired one in Afghanistan. I recognized the design—the bullpup configuration, the top-mounted magazine. And those high-velocity cartridges made Swiss cheese out of those cars. We’re lucky they couldn’t control their shots.”

“Then the rumors on the street are true....”

“What rumors? What’s an E-13?” Haley asked. Both women looked confused.

“It’s an experimental weapon,” Parker told her. “A shoulder-fired submachine gun with a really short barrel. It’s similar to the P-90 but smaller. It has the same ambidextrous controls, but a better feeding system, and it fires more rounds.”

“Our military’s field-testing them,” Sully added. “Production’s limited. They aren’t on the market yet. Not even the black market.”

Or so they’d thought.

“What that means,” he continued, returning to the point, “is that you’re out armed. There’s no way you can fight them alone.”

Her frown deepening, Haley rose and walked to the window, her slender spine straight, her hips gently swinging in her low-slung jeans. He took in the glossy hair tumbling over her shoulders, the seductive curve of her back, trying to ignore the sensual tug. He understood her reluctance to hide, and he sympathized with her need to fight back. But she’d never fend off that gang, even without the E-13s. She had to go somewhere safe.

She turned around and sighed. “I know you’re worried, but I’m not completely defenseless. I’ve got some high-powered connections, too.”

Brynn swiveled around to face her, grimacing as she moved her arm. “You’re not serious.”

“Why not? They know everyone in Baltimore and D.C.”

Sully frowned. It was his turn to be confused. “Who does?”

“My parents. My father’s a criminal defense attorney. He represents a lot of gang members. He knows everyone—the police, people in the criminal justice system, politicians. And my mother knows even more people than he does. Her ancestors helped found this town. If the person behind this is that high-level, they’ll know him for sure.”

“Assuming they agree to help you,” Brynn said.

Haley crossed her arms, worry darkening her eyes. “I know. It’s a long shot. We didn’t exactly part on friendly terms. But it’s worth a try.”

Her friend didn’t look convinced. “I guess a phone call wouldn’t hurt.”

“No. I need to see them in person. Otherwise they’ll just hang up. There’s a fund-raiser tomorrow night for area shelters. I wasn’t going to go, but now...” She shrugged. “It’s at Hunter Hall in Virginia. All the bigwigs will be out in force.”

“I heard about that,” Parker said. “The police commissioner’s going to attend.”

Sully’s frown deepened. The uneasy feeling inside him grew. “Wait a minute. You said the guy who’s after you has power. What if he’s there?”

“Then I can draw him out.”

The hell she would. Outraged, he rose and limped to her side. “Are you crazy? You can’t take a risk like that. You saw that text message. You can’t just walk around in the open with a bounty on your head.”

“So I’ll take a bodyguard along.”

He still didn’t like it. He glowered back, his protective instincts raging, needing to force her to listen to sense. But he didn’t have that right. And neither did he want it. This woman meant nothing to him.

Then Parker spoke up from across the room. “I can get a cop to go with you. I know a few who moonlight as bodyguards.”

Sully shot him a look of disbelief. “You can’t be serious. She needs to hide, not appear in public, risking her life.”

But Haley broke in. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t use the police. The killer could recognize a cop. I need someone less obvious. Someone I can pass off as my date.” Her gaze returned to his.

Realization sank in. He took a quick step back. “Forget it.”

“Why not? You obviously know how to shoot. And you’re in this as much as I am. That gang’s after you now, too.”

He didn’t care about himself. He should have died months ago. But Haley needed protection—protection he couldn’t provide.

“I can’t.” He had a bum leg. He suffered from chronic flashbacks. Hell, he was so messed up he could barely function without a drink, let alone safeguard her. And his intuition was off. The last time he’d relied on his instincts, he’d screwed up—and his men had paid the price.

“He’s right,” the cop told her. “No offense to Sully, but you need a pro, someone who can keep his eye out for trouble in a place like that.”

Someone who could stay sober, he meant.

Sully worked his jaw, suspecting his bloodshot eyes had given him away—or the way he’d guzzled the beer Parker had offered him when they’d first arrived. But even if it humiliated him to admit it, Parker was right. Haley didn’t need a ruined man like him for her bodyguard.

But she only raised her chin. “I don’t want anyone else.”

“Too bad. I’m not going to do it.”

Her eyes held his. The air between them pulsed. But then she glanced at her friends again. “Would you mind giving us a moment alone?”

“Sure. We’ll be in the kitchen.” Brynn struggled to her feet. Her fiancé helped her up, and they exited the room.

Sully folded his arms, steeling himself for the argument he knew would come. He didn’t have long to wait.

“Listen, Sully. I don’t blame you for not wanting to get involved in this.”

“I can’t.”

She gave him a nod. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t know anything about me.”

She tilted her head, her dark-lashed eyes on his. “I know some things. You saved my life today. You rescued the girls. If you hadn’t been there we’d all be dead.”

“I got lucky, that’s all.”

“It was a lot more than luck, and you know it.”

“No, it wasn’t. Don’t twist this around. And don’t make me into something I’m not. Your friends are right. They know I can’t protect you. You need to listen to them.”

Her eyes went soft. She moved even closer, her nearness muddling his thoughts. “They’re wrong. You’re wrong. But if you don’t want to do it, I understand.”

“Then you’ll do what they say? You’ll go to a safe house?”

“No. Not yet. I can’t,” she added when he hissed. “I have to try to get answers. If my parents won’t talk, if I don’t learn anything at the fund-raiser, then I’ll reconsider my plan. But I have to give it a shot.”

Frustrated, he gripped the back of his neck. He was starting to realize how she’d survived the streets—she was too damned stubborn to quit. “Then at least take a cop as your bodyguard.”

“No. It’s either you or no one. I won’t change my mind about that. I can’t. I’ll never figure out who’s involved if I tip him off.”

His jaw clenched. Dread mingled with desperation at the thought of her taking on the killer alone. “That’s not fair.”

A sad smile curved her lips. “Don’t worry, Sully. I don’t blame you for not wanting to do this. I’ve already involved you enough.”

Suddenly feeling cornered, Sully turned to the window and scowled out at the city lights. She’d just given him an out. He should leave right now while he still could. But he couldn’t let her go to that fund-raiser alone. He’d never forgive himself if she got killed.

But how could he protect her? He was the worst possible man for the job. He swung around to face her again. “For God’s sakes, Haley. Why can’t you understand this? I’m not the man you need.”

“But you’re the one I want.”

His hopes plummeted hard. He gazed into her hazel eyes, her gentle beauty swamping his heart. He was all wrong for this mission. He knew it. She knew it. Even her friends knew it.

But it was the resignation in her eyes that demolished his resolve. She spent her life helping others, yet expected nothing in return.

Feeling doomed, he released a sigh. “All right.”

“You’ll do it?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it.” He just hoped he didn’t screw up.

Or he’d have this woman’s innocent blood on his already-guilty hands.

Chapter 4

Despite what she’d told Sully, by the time they arrived at Hunter Hall, the eighteenth-century estate in the northern-Virginia countryside where the charity gala was being held, Haley’s bravado was fading fast. She stared out the passenger-side window of their borrowed car at the thousands of acres of dusky woodland rolling toward the Shenandoah River and struggled to contain her nerves.

She dreaded confronting her parents. She feared exposing her presence to the killer who wanted her dead. Every instinct she possessed warned her to run, take cover, hide. Instead, she was going public, revealing her identity, setting herself up as a target—and putting Sully’s life even more at risk.

But she had no choice. She couldn’t go on looking over her shoulder. She couldn’t keep fleeing the killer when he’d only find her again. And she couldn’t continue to jeopardize those teenage girls. Unless she brought him down now, she could never return to her shelter. She would lose everything she’d worked for—her dreams, her sense of security, her home.

Still, she never should have involved Sully. She should have kept him far from the gang trying to murder her instead of coercing him to help. So what if he’d saved her life? She had no business endangering him further—no matter how badly she needed his support.

Battling back a flurry of anxiety, she cast him a glance, taking in the wide, muscled shoulders straining his tuxedo, the appealing contrast of his swarthy skin against his stark-white shirt. He’d combed his shaggy hair into submission and shaved the beard stubble from his face, revealing the hard planes of his cheeks and jaw. But somehow, his attempt to tame his appearance only emphasized the power of his features, making him look even more uncivilized.

He turned his head and his gaze connected with hers. And for one unguarded instant, that raw heat tangled between them, those whiskey-colored eyes wreaking havoc on her insides. Then he lowered his gaze, traveling over every inch of her, unleashing a frenzy of nerves in her chest.

She jerked her gaze to the windshield, her pulse on a wild stampede. She didn’t need this. It didn’t matter if he compelled her. It didn’t matter if he radiated an inner pain she found hard to resist. She couldn’t afford to let him distract her, no matter how much he stirred her blood. She had to track down the man trying to kill her—or they both would end up dead.

The long drive began to curve, the centuries-old oak trees and tulip poplars closing in on her like a gauntlet on either side. Then the mansion came into view, its huge white pillars spurring her pulse into another sprint. Sully stopped in front of the imposing entrance, and a teenage valet rushed over to open Haley’s door. She stepped out of the car, trying to attribute the chills skidding down her spine to the cold, autumn breeze instead of fear.

Sully joined her at the portico steps. “Some place.”

“It’s on the historic register.” The exquisitely restored mansion was the epitome of antebellum gentility with a huge central hall built of local limestone flanked by two-bay wings. Not exactly where she’d expect to confront a killer. But that’s why they were here.

A burst of laughter drew her attention to the side of the house. Stopping, she studied the people crowded around a sports car parked beneath a tent. “They always have a raffle at these events,” she explained. “People donate cruises, vacations, cars.”

Sully raised a brow. “Must be nice to have that much money to give away.”

“They don’t do it to be kind. Well, maybe a few of them do.” She had to be honest about that. “But for most of these people, money’s a means to an end—status, power. That’s how they measure your worth—by what you can do for them. And if you can’t help them get ahead, they discard you without a thought.”

Oh, God. Where had that tirade come from? Her face warmed as she realized how bitter she sounded, at how much of her past she’d disclosed. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Haley.” Closing the distance between them, he reached out and cupped her jaw. His touch was gentle, barely there, but his warm, calloused skin sent a blaze of heat rushing through her, both thrilling and steadying her somehow. “We don’t have to do this. We can leave right now.”

His husky words rumbled through her. His eyes and voice held her captive, anchoring her in place. And for a minute, she was so darned tempted to take the easy way out, to jump back in the car and leave before anyone noticed them here.

But she’d never forgive herself if she gave up. This killer was threatening her friends, her pregnant girls, the dreams she’d spent years working to make real. She had to stand and fight.

“No. I need to talk to my parents. But let’s make it fast, all right?”

He lowered his hand, a crooked smile warming his eyes. “A ‘shoot and scoot’ it is, then. A quick attack and then retreat,” he added when she gave him a quizzical look. “We’ll get the information we need and go.”

“That sounds good.” Especially the part about retreat. But she refused to run. She could handle her parents. She was older now. She had a satisfying life helping troubled teens. She didn’t need their approval, didn’t need them to validate her self-worth. And she wouldn’t let them shake her composure, no matter how nervous she felt.

Sully offered her his arm. “Ready?”

“As much as I’ll ever be.” Gripping his arm for courage, she turned to the entrance and accompanied him through the massive door.

But one glance at the crowd milling beneath the chandeliers—their diamond jewelry flashing, their forced laughter rising above the strains of the string quartet—made her want to bolt. She despised this world—power brokers making deals over old-fashioneds. Women plotting remarriages over caviar. Do-gooders who wouldn’t dream of getting their hands dirty, writing checks to absolve themselves of any real responsibility for fighting the evil plaguing the world.

But this wasn’t the time to indulge in a rant. And no matter where the money came from—or why—it went to a worthy cause, supporting shelters like hers.

Assuming she survived long enough to collect the check.

While Sully took care of her shawl, she headed to the reception table tucked discreetly to the side of the foyer. Exquisite millwork covered the walls, along with museum-quality portraits in huge gilt frames.

“Haley Barnes and Sullivan Turner,” she told one of the women manning the desk. “From Always Home Teen Shelter in D.C.” The woman consulted her list, then murmured to the worker beside her. “I was late sending in my RSVP,” she added, waiting while they shuffled through the names.

“Haley!”

Her heart lurching, she whipped around. A middle-aged man strode toward her with his hand outstretched. Senator Alfred Riggs. In his early sixties now, he looked stockier and grayer than when she’d seen him last. But he still had that aura of power that commanded respect, even in this moneyed crowd.

“It’s great to see you.” He sounded surprisingly genuine as he shook her hand. But then, he was a consummate politician, one of his party’s rising stars. Rumor had it he was contemplating a run for the White House should the current vice president decide to retire.

Years of debutante training kicked in. She glued a smile on her face. “It’s wonderful to be here, especially for such a worthy cause.” Thanks to his own troubled childhood, the senator worked tirelessly on behalf of at-risk youth—which also endeared him to the voters, paying off at the ballot box.

“Thank you for hosting this gala,” she added. “I appreciate the donation to my shelter.”

“I didn’t realize you worked in this field.”

“Yes, I—” Sully came up beside her. Grateful for the interruption, she turned his way. “Senator Riggs, I’d like you to meet my escort, Sullivan Turner.”

The senator’s eyes turned speculative as he shook Sully’s hand. “Have we met before? Your name sounds familiar.”

“I doubt it.”

Haley jumped into the breach. “Senator Riggs went to law school with my father.”

The senator smiled. “That’s right. And I had the pleasure of watching this lovely young woman grow up.” He waved at someone in the crowd. “Here comes someone else you know. We’ll catch up later,” he promised, then strode away.

Haley peered over Sully’s shoulder, experiencing an unexpected burst of pleasure as a woman in her early forties approached. “Gwendolyn Shaffer,” she murmured to Sully. “The senator’s chief of staff.” One of the few genuinely nice people she knew.

“Haley.” The woman gave her a kiss. “I didn’t know you’d be here,” she added after Haley had introduced Sully.

“I run a shelter in D.C. now. But I’m afraid I accepted the invitation at the last moment. They can’t find us on the list.” She motioned toward the women still rifling through pages of names.

“Latecomers are on the addendum,” the chief of staff told them, and Haley smiled. Gwen had always been a “fixer,” one of those competent, take-charge people everyone relied on to get things done. Apparently, that hadn’t changed.

But her appearance had. Never slender, her hips had grown broader, her waist thicker over the years. Gray hairs now streaked her classic bob. But she still had that brisk, efficient attitude that had been her hallmark, propelling her formidable career.

And if anyone deserved success, it was Gwendolyn Shaffer. She’d helped make Haley’s teen years tolerable, offering sympathy and support, especially after her sister’s death.

“Oh, here we are.” Apology in her eyes, the woman at the table handed Haley their raffle tickets and brochure. “You’re automatically entered in the drawing. The winners are posted on the board near the orchestra as they’re announced.”

“Ms. Shaffer,” another woman called out.

“Another crisis.” Gwen rolled her eyes, but her smile softened the complaint. “We’ll talk again later.” She turned and hurried off.

“So your father went to school with the senator,” Sully said, taking Haley’s arm.

“He knows everyone. That’s why I need to talk to him.”

And there was no reason to delay. Inhaling deeply, she walked with Sully to the edge of the ballroom and scanned the crowd. Her belly churned. A clammy sweat moistened her upper lip at the thought of confronting her parents after all these years. But she’d come here to smoke out a killer.

And it was time to start.

* * *

An hour later, Sully limped beside Haley through the stifling room, no longer bothering to fake a smile. His head throbbed. His hands shook from the need to drink. His bum leg ached so badly he grimaced with every step.

And he was sick of the endless introductions, the air kisses and backslapping from vain, vacuous people who’d elevated chitchat to an art form, millionaires displaying surgically enhanced women to pump up their egos, men who wouldn’t last two minutes on the battlefield posturing to exude an air of virility and power. He’d met celebrities, politicians, diplomats. The Virginia attorney general was here, along with the commissioner of the Baltimore Police Department. Across the room, the ambassador of Jaziirastan stood talking to Dean Walker, a high-powered CEO.

The place was a logistical nightmare. There were too many people, too much commotion beyond his control. The patio doors were wide open, allowing people to enter and exit at will. And with every passing moment, the uneasy feeling drumming inside him grew. Danger was here. He could feel it. But which direction it came from, he didn’t know.

Damn, he needed a drink.

He eyed a passing waiter, tempted to indulge in a shot of whiskey to take the edge off his mounting nerves. But he couldn’t take the chance. He couldn’t afford to dull his reactions with Haley’s life at risk. She was too vulnerable, too exposed, despite the crowded room.

He grabbed some water from the tray instead and gulped it down. Then he turned her way, skimming the graceful lines of her profile, the curve of her slender neck. She wore her hair up, but silky tendrils fluttered loose, softening the effect. And he had the strongest urge to move closer and inhale her seductive scent. To feel her softness wrapped around him and taste her sultry lips.

The dress she was wearing didn’t help. Long, black and tight, it showed off her curves to perfection, hugging her full, round breasts and hips. The dress dipped low in the back, exposing a heart-stopping expanse of naked skin.

Skin he had no business ogling right now. He jerked his attention back to the jam-packed room. It was bad enough that he couldn’t control their surroundings. Worse that he needed to drink so badly his heart was starting to race. But the last thing they both needed was to have lust fogging his brain, making it impossible to keep her safe.

The string quartet ended their piece. The emcee, a local radio personality, announced another batch of prizewinners to a smattering of polite applause. They were down to the final five.

Haley pulled out their ticket stubs from her little purse, then wrinkled her brow. “That’s your ticket. You’re one of the finalists.”

He shot her a frown. “Forget it. We’re not staying to the end.”

“I know. I just need to find my parents, and then we can go.”

Sully scanned the room, the crush of people making him sweat despite the open doors. He tried to loosen his collar, but failed. The rented tuxedo was too damned tight. “You’re sure they’re here?”

“Yes. They make a big show of supporting causes like this. They put on quite a show when I ran away, pretending to care. And events like this give them a chance to cash in on that sympathy again. Besides, I checked with my mother’s secretary. I said I was on the attendance committee.”

He tried to absorb all that. “Your mother has a secretary?”

Haley’s bare shoulders rose. “She has a busy social calendar.”

“Right.” He shook his head, wondering exactly how wealthy her family was. “How long since you’ve seen your parents?”

“Fifteen years. I talked to them on the phone once after I ran away, but...” She lifted her shoulders again, that wounded look flitting back through her hazel eyes, the same hint of vulnerability he’d glimpsed on the porch.

And all of a sudden, the need to comfort her stirred inside him, the desire to erase the tiny frown marring her brow and let her know that she wasn’t alone.

“I don’t see my family, either,” he confessed, then blinked, stunned that he’d let that slip. He never talked about his family. He tried not to even think about them after the mess he’d made of his life.

“Don’t they want to see you?”

They wanted to see him, all right. But he couldn’t stand the shame. He’d failed them all too badly, destroying their confidence and respect.

Not wanting to go down that disturbing track, he tugged on his collar again. “Something like that. It doesn’t matter now.”

But Haley’s perceptive gaze lingered on his. And for one unguarded moment, he wanted to tell her the truth, to confess how horribly he’d screwed up. To reveal the guilt, the regret, the pain.

No wonder the kids in her shelter liked her. There was something soothing about this woman, something solid and warm and kind. Her soft eyes promised compassion, absolution. As if she could make the world all right.

But then her gaze shifted to someone behind him. Her spine stiffened, snapping his attention back to the ballroom and the danger shadowing their heels. His pulse accelerating, he wheeled around. “What is it?”

“My parents.”

The dense crowd parted, revealing a couple heading their way. Sully’s gaze zeroed in on her father, Oliver Burroughs. About six feet tall, the prominent Baltimore defense attorney had Haley’s dark hair and hazel eyes, but the similarities ended there. His stride was an arrogant swagger, his eyes sharp and impatient as they skimmed the crowd. An egotist, Sully decided. A man consumed with his own inflated sense of power.

Sully’s gaze shifted to the woman beside him. Haley’s mother, Catherine, was tall, blonde and still strikingly beautiful, despite her advancing age. She had a slender build and a blade-thin nose in an impossibly flawless face. Like Haley, she wore her blond hair up, but not a strand was out of place. Diamonds glittered around her swanlike throat.

He swung his gaze to Haley, marveling at the difference. Haley certainly couldn’t match her mother in looks. Her mother was more beautiful, at least in a superficial way. But Haley radiated an inner warmth he found far more appealing. She was softer, more authentic.

More tense. She clutched his arm with a death grip despite the smile pasted on her face. And his admiration for her rose. No matter how much she dreaded this confrontation, she didn’t intend to let them know.

“Hello, Mother.” Her voice was calm.

“Haley.” The woman shifted her eyes to Sully. She sized him up and dismissed him in one cool glance. Not worth her time, he guessed.

Her gaze skipped back to Haley. She didn’t bother to do the air-kiss thing. “How lovely to see you after all this time.”

He’d never heard anything less sincere.

“It’s been a while,” Haley agreed. “Since I was a teenager, I think.” She paused, but when her mother didn’t answer, she soldiered on. “Hi, Dad.”

Oliver Burroughs spared a glance at his daughter, his eyes lacking any warmth. Sully could see this attorney ripping his opponents in court to shreds.

“I was hoping to talk to you,” she added.

“We don’t have anything to say.”

Haley’s chin went up. Her smile didn’t slip, but her fingers dug into Sully’s arm so hard he expected bruises to form. “Please. It’s important. I need information. It has to do with the Ridgewood gang.”

Her father’s eyes turned even colder. He glanced at Sully, then back to his daughter again. “You know I don’t discuss my clients.” He grabbed a drink from a passing waiter, then turned away.

But Haley released Sully’s arm and blocked his path. “Please, Dad. I only need information. It won’t take long, but...my life could be at risk. Can’t we go somewhere to talk?”

Her mother’s pinched nostrils flared. “Really, Haley. Your imagination always did get the best of you. And you heard his answer. Now please don’t act crass and create a scene. You’ve damaged the family enough.” She took her husband’s arm and pulled him away. A moment later she stopped to greet the senator. Her forced laughter floated back.

Sully glanced down at Haley. She stood stock-still, her eyes stricken in her flushed face. His anger rose, his own face heating at the need to avenge the slight. What the hell was wrong with her parents? How could they ignore Haley’s plea for help? Their daughter’s life was at stake.

He balled his hands and stepped forward, determined to make them talk.

“Don’t.” She tugged his sleeve, the flayed look in her eyes twisting his heart. “It’s not worth it. I was wrong to come here. I thought... It doesn’t matter. Let’s...let’s just go.”

“Good idea.” This was a waste of time. Finding the killer in this crowd was futile, like searching for a diamond in a gravel pit. It could be anyone—or no one. There wasn’t any way to tell. And people were already whispering, spreading word of Haley’s humiliation at her parents’ hands.

Even more anxious to leave now, he placed his palm at the small of her back and steered her toward the door. But the crowd had tripled since they’d arrived, making it difficult to move.

Behind them, the music stopped. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the emcee announced. “This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. We’ll now announce the three finalists in our auction. Please come up when I call your names.”

Good. The distraction would draw the crowd’s attention to the stage, enabling them to sneak away without another scene.

“Kenneth Jones, Camille Henson and Sullivan Turner,” the man boomed out. “Please come to the stage.”

Haley stopped and turned back. “You have to go up there.”

“I don’t care about the raffle. Let’s get out of here.”

“Please.” Her eyes pleaded with his. “If we leave now, they’ll think they drove us out.”

He knew she meant her parents. And he couldn’t blame her for wanting to preserve her pride. “It’s not just that. I can’t leave you alone in the crowd.”

“I’ll go up with you.”

“You’d be too exposed.” And even though he had his sidearm, he couldn’t risk opening fire in a crowd this size. The collateral damage would be too high.

But she didn’t budge. “Nobody’s going to shoot us in the ballroom. And it will only take a minute. We’ll accept whatever the prize is and leave right after that.”

He glanced around. People were pointing and looking his way. His heart sank. She was right. They’d look like cowards if they slipped out now.

“Fine.” Not seeing an alternative, he trailed her to the small corner stage where two other people waited with the emcee. Taking his position beside Haley, Sully scowled at the audience, watching for signs of animosity.

Haley leaned toward him. “Try to look happy. You’re about to win something.”

“Right.” He bared his teeth.

The emcee introduced Senator Riggs, who thanked an endless stream of sponsors for their help. He finally wound down, and the emcee took the microphone again. While a drum rolled, he reached into a clear, plastic ball and pulled out a ticket stub. “In third place, a two-week cruise to the Black Sea, Camille Henson.”

Sully clapped. But he caught sight of Haley’s parents in the crowd and it was all he could do not to glare.

The drum roll sounded again. “In second place, for ten thousand dollars, Kenneth Jones. That means Sullivan Turner is our grand-prize winner, the proud owner of a new Chevrolet Corvette.”

Cameras flashed. Haley turned toward him and gave him a squeeze. But his heart began to race, the light from the cameras flickering through his memory, yanking him into the past. And suddenly, he was back in that desert valley, the world exploding in a roar of flames, surrounded by bodies and blood and screams.

His limbs began to shake. A clammy sweat broke out on his brow. And that god-awful panic consumed him, the frantic need to fight back. He grabbed Haley’s arm, struggling to anchor himself to the present, knowing if he lingered another minute he was going to lose it and come undone. He had to get away from the flashing lights now.

But the senator stepped into his path. “If I could have your attention for another moment,” he boomed into the microphone. “I’ve just discovered that our winner is none other than Sergeant Sullivan Turner from the United States Army, who not only earned a Purple Heart, but a Silver Star, one of the highest commendations there is. He’s a real-live hero! I’m sure you’ll all join me in thanking him for his service to our country.”

Applause broke out. Sully’s gut tightened to steel. Hell. This was all he needed, for the senator to broadcast that. Desperate to hold it together, he gripped Haley’s arm even harder and turned to go.

But a man carting a camera blocked his way. “Sir, we need you to come outside and stand by the car for a couple of photos.”

“We’ll be right there,” Haley promised before Sully could refuse. Then she towed him through the crowd. “A Silver Star?”

Ignoring the people surging toward him, he mopped his brow with his sleeve. “It’s no big deal.”

“No big deal?” She shot him a look of disbelief. “How can you say that? That’s a huge award.”

An award he didn’t deserve. “It’s nothing.”

“But—”

“Forget the damned medal. Let’s just get out of here.” He knew he sounded surly. But there were too many people, too much noise. And they all seemed to be pressing toward him, offering congratulations, making it impossible to breathe.

Haley pulled him out the doors to the patio. His pulse still chaotic, he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh night air. Light spilled from the mansion, illuminating the garden beyond the wall. But past the perfectly trimmed hedges lay acres of unlit fields and woodland—where a shooter could easily hide out.

“Come on.” Hurrying, he limped toward the side of the mansion where the Corvette was parked. The photographer was waiting by the car, along with the senator and another man Sully didn’t recognize. Several teenage valets hovered nearby.

“Man, this thing’s loaded,” a tall, dark-haired boy was saying to his friends. “Seven-speed manual transmission...” He ducked his head under the hood and rattled off a list of stats.

The photographer motioned Sully over, then turned to the valets. “Sorry, boys. I need you to step aside for a minute.”

Haley waved him on. “I’ll wait over here.” She joined the valets near a stand of trees.

Anxious to get this over with, Sully strode to the Corvette. The photographer got to work, taking photos of him shaking hands with the senator and accepting the keys from the dealer who’d donated the car.

Sully’s jaw started to ache. The pounding in his temples increased. And with every passing second, the uneasy feeling inside him grew. He didn’t like this. The guests were beginning to leave. Several lights near the tent had gone out. And Haley was too far away.

He pushed away from the car. “That’s enough.”

“We just need one more shot,” the photographer said. “In front of the mansion this time. If you could drive the Corvette around to the portico, we’ll take it from there.” Without waiting for an answer, he jogged off.

Haley caught his eye. “Go ahead. I forgot my shawl inside. I’ll go get it while you drive the car around.”

He hesitated. He still didn’t like this. The feeling of danger kept getting stronger, despite the thinning crowd. And no matter how damaged his instincts, he wasn’t going to let Haley out of his sight.

He glanced back at the car. The valets still lingered nearby, salivating over the Corvette.

“Hey,” he called to the tall kid who’d recited the stats. “You want to drive the car to the front for me?”

The kid’s eyes widened. “Sure.”

Sully tossed him the keys. Then he pulled Haley toward the entrance, away from the unlit grounds.

Male laughter erupted behind him. Sully glanced back as the kid swaggered to the Corvette, putting on a show for his friends. Another valet pulled out his cell phone and took a picture of him leaning against the car.

Sully shook his head. He’d once been that young, that cocky. That idealistic and naive. Back when he’d still felt immortal, when his life had been blessedly simple, when all that mattered were girls and cars.

The kid opened the door. More raucous laughter broke out. He got in and cranked the engine. Still smiling, he punched down on the gas pedal and took off.

The car exploded in a ball of fire.

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