Alexis found the right key, unlocked the dead bolt and walked quickly into her parents’ house.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, the shadows seemed thicker than they had before, closer somehow, pressing down against her and making it tough to breathe. She wanted to call out, but she knew no one would answer, so she didn’t bother. Her fingers found the light switch a second later and she flipped it up. Nothing happened. Her mouth went dry as she tried once more. The darkness remained and seemed to increase.

She took a step into the living room, then stopped.

A man dressed completely in black sat in her father’s chair. Alexis stared at him in shock, a sense of dread coming over her with such intensity, she felt her entire body go hot. In the span of a heartbeat she was more scared than she’d ever been in her life. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t do anything but stare at the stranger.

He looked at her through the gloom and spoke in a low voice. “You’re Alexis.”

Wishing she could answer another way, she nodded.

“I’m Gabriel O’Rourke. I’m here to explain.”

Dear Reader,

Losing what you care about most is everyone’s biggest nightmare. For me and, I suspect, a lot of you as well, that’s family. My husband, my parents, my siblings and their children…all these people are part of who I am. Their influence has made me the woman I am, and because of that, much of what I do is a reflection of them.

In this book, my heroine suffers the loss of her family. At a young age, even as she wants to become independent and cast off those family ties, sudden circumstances take away her mother, her father and even her baby brother.

When the man behind their disappearance reenters her life, Alexis Mission wants nothing to do with him. Gabriel O’Rourke is someone she’s never trusted and never will. He took from her everything that was important. How can she ever forgive him, much less trust him? The answer, as always, lies in love. Through it, all things are possible, including pardon and understanding.

Families are curious things. Most of us have a love/hate relationship with those closest to us. Their foibles drive us crazy, and they never act the way we really think they should. But when things don’t go right, they’re usually the first people we call for sympathy and support. And they give it—because they love us.

If it’s been a while since you talked to your mother, your father, that crazy cousin who still lives back home, give them a call when you finish reading this book. Connect with them and let them know they’re in your thoughts. In the end, families are what matter.

Sincerely,

Kay David

Disappear
Kay David

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to anyone who has lost someone important. Be it by bad luck or choice, long expected or a surprise, the void left behind is one that can never be filled. Once you love, a part of you always loves—whether those you love are present in your life or far, far away. I hope all of you know that time and love helps heal the wound.

CONTENTS

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

CHAPTER ONE

ALEXIS MISSION HADN’T driven a car in more than a year.

She hadn’t gone to McDonald’s for a hamburger, she hadn’t stopped at a mall to shop, she hadn’t put on lipstick or worn a pair of panty hose or done any of the countless things Americans did every day without thought.

Coming home was a shock.

She walked out of the Albuquerque airport and into the chilly New Mexican sunshine. Everywhere she looked, people were rushing. The confusion was even more overwhelming on the sidewalk than it had been inside, the cacophony of horns, engines and movement too much for her to absorb. All at once, she felt as if she’d been living on a different planet instead of a tiny village in Peru.

Despite her anxiousness, Alexis threaded her way through the chaos with determination. She had to get accustomed to civilization again. Her family didn’t know it yet, but she had returned and not just for a visit. She was back home to stay. Her mother’s Thanksgiving invitation had provided Alexis the excuse she’d been looking for for the past six months.

She crossed the walkway to the rental-car buses and located the proper van. Five minutes later, it stopped in front of a low-rise building and everyone jumped out. Moving with the crowd, Alexis found herself in front of a neatly uniformed agent who had her stamped and ready to go with an efficiency she hadn’t seen in quite some time. In the lot behind the building, she located the small red Mazda he’d assigned her.

She threw her duffel bag into the spotless trunk, then climbed into the front seat and fumbled with the keys. After a second’s study, she started the compact vehicle, but didn’t put it in gear. With the motor purring quietly and the jets rumbling overhead, she simply sat in the car and thought, just as she had a thousand times, about the last time she’d seen her family.

Her baby brother had been too young to do anything but cry, his big eyes filled with confusion. A late surprise for her parents, Toby had been more like Alexis’s own child than a brother. But she’d kissed his plump cheek and turned away. The pain of that moment had carved a hole in her chest, but it was the anger—the disappointment—in her parents’ gazes that had haunted her.

When she was nineteen, however, nothing had meant more to Alexis than Esteban Garza. He was the only person she could think about. She’d met the handsome young social worker through a volunteer program in Peru. He was a teacher, doing incredible work high in the Andes, helping his people. She wanted to be his partner—his soul mate—and toil beside him forever. Everyone had been horrified at the thought of her moving so far from home to live with a virtual stranger, but Alexis had felt she was old enough to make such decisions on her own.

Her mother couldn’t say too much about Alexis’s plans because for years Selena Mission had filled her daughter’s head with romantic stories about Lima, Selena’s birthplace. The men were all handsome, the women gorgeous, the beauty of the country unparalleled. Alexis’s father, Robert, had had plenty to say, though.

“You’re too young. You don’t know what you’re doing… You’re throwing away your life, for God’s sake…” He’d followed Alexis out of the house the day she’d left, begging her to change her mind, then threatening her when she didn’t. “I swear to God, Alexis, if you get in that car, don’t bother to ever come back! No daughter of mine would do something this stupid!”

They’d always been close, so the fight with her father had been shocking to Alexis. Angry and ugly. She’d said things she hadn’t meant, and so, she hoped, had he.

One way or the other, she was about to find out, and then it’d be her time to beg…for forgiveness and understanding. Her throat tightened in anticipation. What if he ignored her pleas as she had his? Her mother was the one who’d written to Alexis. Come home for Thanksgiving, Alexis, she’d scribbled. We miss you terribly.

Knowing it would be easier to explain once she was there, Alexis had never replied. She’d simply packed her things and left. Controlling and critical, Esteban had been impossible to live with and impossible to please, his Latin machismo ingrained so deeply their relationship had been doomed from the very start. Her parents had realized that as soon as they’d met him; it’d taken Alexis a year to understand then another six months to admit it.

A commercial came over the car’s radio, the volume suddenly jumping, the holiday jingle loud and garish. She clicked off the noise then put the Mazda into gear and carefully backed up. The wheel felt huge in her hands, the brake pedal unwieldy.

In an hour, she reached Los Lobos.

Her parents and younger brother had moved to New Mexico right after Alexis had left for Peru. She didn’t know Los Lobos, but she’d seen thousands of towns like it in the years they’d moved around the country. Small and depressed, hanging on to what it’d been in better days. The community was still alive only because of the government think tank where her father and mother worked, along with some of the other top scientists in the world.

Alexis found the neighborhood and then the house. Driving slowly, she passed the brick home and circled the block with her nerves jangling. When she came back around, she slowed the car five houses down.

Her mother’s trademark Thanksgiving decoration was hanging on the front door. A diehard optimist, Selena Mission was a brilliant mass neuron scientist, but domestic tasks had always eluded her. Alexis and her father had always teased Selena unmercifully over the strange straw and pumpkin wreath, but seeing it now brought a quick sting to Alexis’s eyes.

She dashed away the tears then eased the car into the driveway and parked. Her heart jumped into her throat and stayed there, a lump that only seemed to grow larger. Finally, her hands shaking, she managed to open the door and get out.

On the porch, she paused. Should she knock? Should she ring the doorbell? Should she just stand there and pray someone would come? None of those options seemed right, and after a few more seconds of hesitation, she knocked once then opened the door and called out. “Mom? Dad?”

No one answered, but they didn’t have to.

Alexis had found home and she knew it.

The familiar furniture, the sound of the grandfather clock, even the spices filling the air—everything was known and dear. Alexis felt as if she’d been out to grab a gallon of milk at the corner store. The tightness in her chest dissolved and she started to cry. She pushed the door open wider and stepped inside.

“Mom? Dad? Toby? Anybody here?”

The only sound she heard was the ticking clock, the silence beneath it strangely empty. She walked through the living room and into the kitchen. The room was unoccupied but the oven was still on. Cracking the door open, Alexis bent over and peeked inside to see a turkey. The bird had been cooking way too long—the skin looked dry and the wings had already fallen off. With a puzzled frown, she turned off the heat and looked around. Two pies with lopsided crusts and dimpled tops sat by a window, which revealed an equally unoccupied backyard.

Stepping over a scattering of colorful blocks, her confusion grew as she glanced into the dining room connected to the kitchen. The old scarred table was set with the old unmatched china. For four, she noted with a catch, her own special glass sitting at the plate on the right-hand side. “Just in case,” Alexis could hear her mother say. A centerpiece Alexis had never seen was in the middle, but it had her mother’s stamp. No one else could arrange flowers that badly.

Alexis called out again as she headed toward the back of the house. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a den. All empty. She stopped at the door to what was clearly the guest room, her own childhood furniture in place. The bed had been turned back and there were fresh towels waiting in two neat piles on top of the quilted coverlet. Her mother had obviously been hoping Alexis might come, even though the invitation had gone unanswered. Alexis turned away, blinking.

What could have taken them away? With a feeling of dread, she had the sudden thought—had someone had an accident…or worse?

Dropping her purse on the chest in the bedroom, Alexis returned to the front of the house where the garage was located. To her surprise, two cars were parked inside. Feeling foolish but needing the confirmation, she went first to the one she recognized—her father’s truck—and then to the other one, a new sedan. The registration papers for both cars were exactly what she’d expected, her parents’ names listed in black and white.

Walking back into the living room, Alexis sat down, her unease growing. It was too weird, too strange. Where on earth could they be? She argued with herself, thinking up a million explanations for their absence, but none of them made any sense. A tiny voice in the back of her mind told her she was being paranoid, but she ignored it and called the local hospital, getting the name and number from a scruffy directory underneath the phone beside the couch. There was only one facility in town and it took them less than a minute to check. No one by the name of Mission had been brought in.

She waited an hour more then she went to the neighbors. On the left, an older couple lived. They’d seen nothing, they both said, but would she like to come in and visit until her folks got back? Alexis declined politely and went to the house on the other side. A younger woman answered the door, two crying babies at her feet. She’d just moved in the week before, she explained, and didn’t know her neighbors yet.

No one had seen anything. No one had heard anything. No one knew anything.

Wrapping her arms around herself, Alexis hurried back to the house, the evening air growing bitter. What could have made them take off like this? And how had they left? She entered the empty house, a chill coming over her that had nothing to do with the weather. She hesitated for only a second, then she picked up the phone and dialed 911.

The dispatcher didn’t know what to make of her.

“Your parents aren’t there? How old are you, sweetie?”

“You don’t understand!” Alexis said in exasperation. “I’m an adult! I’ve been gone—for a long time—and they invited me home for Thanksgiving. They’re not here, though, and I’ve been waiting for hours. Has anyone…well, called anything in?”

“What’s the address?”

“It’s 2550 Red Oak.”

Alexis could hear the tapping of computer keys.

“No calls have been made to that address.”

“Are you sure? Nothing at all?” She started to explain the circumstances, but she didn’t get far. The dispatcher cut her off with a curt question, another phone line ringing in the background.

“Would you like to file a report, ma’am?”

“Not…not right now,” Alexis said finally. “But I may call back and do that.”

“We’ll be here.”

Alexis slowly hung up the receiver. In Pricaro, the closest village to where she’d lived, there had been only one telephone. Meant to be used for emergencies, most of the time the line didn’t work at all.

She might as well have been back in the mountains for all the good the call had done her.

Reaching over, she picked up a photograph at the end of the sofa table. The picture had been taken at a picnic just after Toby’s birth. Selena was holding the baby, Robert’s arm slung casually over Alexis’s shoulders. She clutched the snapshot, her fingerprints leaving marks on the frame as she rose from the couch and drifted over to the window. Pulling back the curtain, she stared into the darkness.

Where were they?

ALEXIS PACED the living floor for twenty more minutes, then another possibility came to mind. Her parents sometimes worked strange hours—maybe something had come up at their office. It wouldn’t be the first time her mom had left the house with the oven on.

Hurrying into her father’s study, Alexis searched his desk for an address for the think tank. She found nothing but she wasn’t surprised. Her father didn’t bother himself with mundane little details like address books. With a groan of frustration, she slammed his desk drawer closed.

A pack of matches, obviously dislodged from somewhere at the back of the desk, fluttered down to the carpet. Alexis picked it up. Norman’s Service Station. Twenty-four Hours, Seven Days a Week. She opened it and inside, her father’s neat printing noted: “Grumpy but helpful.” Seeing his handwriting brought fresh concern…and then determination. It wasn’t much, but she knew no one in town. Memorizing the address, Alex dropped the matchbook, ran into the living room and grabbed her coat.

Praying the place wasn’t closed, Alexis found the gas station ten minutes later, and breathed a sigh of relief. It was open. She jumped from the car and ran inside. The temperature had dropped even more in the past hour and the wind had picked up. The chill cut into her skin and she started to shiver, trying to convince herself it was the weather and not her nerves.

An old man sat behind a grungy counter, his overalls spotted with grease stains, a filthy black cap covering his head. As Alexis came in, he tore his eyes reluctantly from the television set and a grainy football game, then immediately turned back to the screen. “We’re self-serve tonight—”

“Are you Norman?”

“Who’s askin’?”

“I need directions.” Alexis rubbed her cold hands together and blew on them. “To the Mansfield Operations Center. I’m Alexis Mis—”

“They don’t let visitors in there.”

“I don’t care. I’ve got to go out there and find—”

“Place is closed.” He spoke with one eye on the television, then finally gave her his attention when a commercial flashed on. “It’s Thanksgivin’, you know. S’ holiday.”

“Surely there’s a skeleton staff. I—”

He interrupted her again and she wondered if he ever let anyone complete a sentence. “Who you lookin’ for?”

“My parents. Robert and Selena Mission,” she answered. “They’re scientists at the—”

“Never heard of ’em.” He returned to the television as if she’d already gone. Helpful? Her father gave everyone the benefit of the doubt but his description had really pushed the limit this time. Alexis gave up. She’d just have to go somewhere else. As she opened the door to leave, the old man spoke one more time.

“Up the highway. Go left. Ten miles outta town.”

HE DROVE by the house slow and easy, the paneled van inconspicuous to any curious eyes. The windows in the small brick home were dark and the place looked empty. Relief eased some of the tension in his body, but not all of it. He had a lot of work ahead of him and not enough time to do it in.

Turning left at the end of the street, Gabriel O’Rourke circled back and parked a block over, in front of a home with a For Sale sign in the yard. Opening the vehicle’s double back doors, he pulled out a canvas bag printed with a plumbing logo that matched the sign on the van. He let his eyes search the street while acting as if he was getting out more tools. Everything looked quiet enough. Gabriel went to the front porch of the house. Pretending he had a key that didn’t work, he stood for a moment, then shook his head in a frustrated way and headed for the back. It took him thirty seconds to jump the fence on the side and shed the white plumber’s suit. Thirty seconds after that, he’d jumped the rear fence as well, landing in the Missions’ backyard, now dressed in black. He opened the metal panel on the side of their garage and threw all the switches, shutting off the power. The shadows covered his progress a moment later.

As soon as he stepped inside, the awareness hit him. Something was different. Someone had been in the house and had just left. The air still shimmered, as if disturbed by a recent passing. He cursed silently, but he wasn’t surprised. Everything that could go wrong with this operation had gone wrong.

Placing the canvas bag on the floor, Gabriel removed his .38 from his waistband. With noiseless steps he checked out the interior, foot by foot. Until he came to the extra bedroom. When he saw the bags, he spoke out loud, his violent curse breaking the silence like a rock shattering a window.

The girl had come back. Dammit to hell, she’d come back!

He stared at the bags but he didn’t move. For the love of God, if she’d just been a little earlier…or if she’d only told them she was coming…things would have been so different. He uttered another oath and closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of regret.

Why in the hell hadn’t he listened to his gut? From the very beginning, he’d had a bad feeling about this operation. Civilians involved. International technology. Bad guys who went beyond bad. The ill-conceived fiasco had been doomed from the start, but he’d ignored his instincts.

He had thought it couldn’t get any worse, but with Alexis Mission’s arrival, the whole situation had gone from catastrophe to meltdown.

Pulling a radio from his vest, he spoke in an urgent voice, ordering a perimeter setup. He didn’t have a lot of men, but those he had were the best. They’d give him as much time as they could.

Disconnecting, he considered the solutions one by one, rejecting ideas as soon as they came to him. The Missions had told him about their daughter. They’d described her as smart and artistic, stubborn and headstrong. They’d emphasized the stubborn part. He had to keep that foremost in his mind.

Putting his weapon away, he searched the room with quick, efficient moves. She hadn’t unpacked, thank God. He put away the towels and blanket that had been left on the bed, then he grabbed her duffel and went down the hall, checking the other rooms. As he worked, he felt the weight of what he carried in his pocket. The rings weren’t heavy but his burden was.

Climbing into the Agency’s helicopter a few hours before, Selena Mission had yanked off her wedding band and given it to him, turning to Robert and demanding he do the same. “These are for Alexis,” she’d said. “She can keep them until we see her again…”

Obeying his wife, Robert Mission had handed over his ring. The scientist had then gripped Gabriel’s hand so hard, he’d left a mark that was still there. Selena hadn’t accepted the truth yet, but the two men knew. The chances of the Missions ever seeing their daughter again were nonexistent, especially if Gabriel was successful in his lies. And he’d better be. Everyone’s lives—including hers—depended on it.

“If she doesn’t show up—” Robert had said.

“I’ll find her.”

“And if she does…”

“I’ll tell her.”

“The story we agreed on.” Robert’s voice left no room for argument.

Gabriel had lied many times in his life, had a lot of regrets, too. He didn’t want to add this one to the list, but he didn’t think he had another choice. He asked the question anyway. “Look, are you sure this is—”

Mission shook his head violently, not even allowing him to finish. “It’s the only way. She’s smart but she’s stubborn, too obstinate for her own damn good. If she has any inkling of the truth—any idea that we’re still alive—she’ll come looking for us, no matter how well you guys hide us. It won’t matter.” He paused. “You’ve got to stop her, otherwise she’ll keep going until she finds us. And you know better than we do what that means…”

Robert Mission’s voice had broken at that point. “She’s…she’s the best part of us, O’Rourke. Please…please make sure she’s taken care of. Promise me you’ll make sure she’s—”

Gabriel had kept his expression stony but he’d nodded and given his word. Then he’d prayed the girl wouldn’t show up.

Obviously his prayers hadn’t been heard. Now he had to take care of business.

“I CAN’T LET YOU GO inside, ma’am, I’m sorry. This is a restricted area.”

“But you don’t understand! I’m looking for my parents. I’m sure you know them—Robert and Selena Mission? They work here.”

The guard pulled his cap down over his eyes, the furry earflaps doing little to keep him warm. In the distance, Alexis’s headlights shone on a fifteen-foot-high barbed wire fence, a low office building barely visible in the empty stretch of loneliness before her. Piñon trees with low twisted branches added their shadows to the scene. She stared at the facility in amazement. When had think tanks become equipped with security like this? The other places where her parents had worked had looked like college campuses.

The guard leaned down. “We’re closed. No one’s working here tonight.”

“But do you know them? Have you seen them?”

He shook his head, his gloved fingers going to his jacket and pulling it closer. “I don’t know anyone who works here. I man the gate when everyone else is off. I’m sorry I can’t help you, but I have my instructions. You’ll have to move along.”

Alexis rolled up her window. There was nothing she could do but turn around and head back into town, her fear and frustration growing. She drove slower than before, the roads slicker and more dangerous than they’d been earlier, a thin layer of ice covering the highway. By the time she reached the house, she was a nervous wreck, her stomach in knots, her hands cramping against the steering wheel. She turned the corner, praying she’d see lights, but the house was as dark as she had left it. A wash of unbelievable disappointment came over her. Where in the world had they gone?

She angled the car carefully into the driveway and shut off the engine, sleet now pinging against the metal roof in an uneasy rhythm. She didn’t know what to do other than try the police department again. She should have filed a report earlier, but she hadn’t wanted to seem foolish. Looking silly was the last thing she cared about now.

She gathered her purse, then opened the car door and dashed to the front porch in the freezing night. Fumbling with the keys she’d grabbed on the way out, she found the right one, unlocked the dead bolt and walked quickly into the entry.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, the shadows inside seemed thicker than they had before, closer somehow, pressing down against her and making it tough to breathe. She wanted to call out but she knew no one would answer, so she didn’t bother. Her fingers found the light switch a second later and she flipped it up. But nothing happened. Her mouth went dry as she tried once more. The darkness remained, indeed, seemed to increase.

She took a step into the living room then stopped abruptly.

A man dressed completely in black sat in her father’s chair. Alexis stared at him in shock, a sense of dread coming over her with such intensity, she felt her entire body go hot, her blood turning to needles as it coursed through her veins. In the space of a heartbeat she was more scared than she’d ever been in her life. She couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, couldn’t do anything but stare at the stranger. An aura of foreboding hung above him like a hangman’s noose.

He looked at her through the gloom and spoke in a low voice. “You’re Alexis.”

Wishing she could answer another way, she nodded slowly.

“I’m Gabriel O’Rourke. I’m here to explain.”

CHAPTER TWO

FROZEN IN PLACE, Alexis Mission stared at him, her eyes filling with fright. She was, he realized, trying to decide if she should scream, run or sit down and listen.

While she made up her mind, he took his own measure of her.

She wasn’t at all what he’d expected.

The obstinacy and intelligence the Missions had told him about shone in the girl’s eyes but they had said nothing about her appearance. She was beautiful…or was she? The shining brunette hair hung around a face with features that didn’t mesh. The eyes were too big, the nose too straight. Her lips were too full as well. Taken one at a time, each component was attractive but she needed to age, he realized, for everything to fit.

Because she was young. Oh, God, she was so young…

Without any warning, she darted toward the phone. He jumped up but she punched two numbers before he could stop her, his fingers around her wrist, his face inches from hers.

She held on to the receiver and looked at him defiantly. Her attitude made him think of her mother. Selena had never let fear stop her, either.

“Take your hands off me and let go of the telephone,” the girl said with determination.

He didn’t answer—or release her.

They were standing close in the darkness, the skin beneath his fingers warm and smooth, her wrist bones fragile in his grip. He could have snapped them without any effort.

“What do you want?” she whispered. “Who are you?”

“I work for the government.” He rattled off an acronym, but he knew it meant nothing to her. Robert and Selena wouldn’t have told their daughter about him because that would have meant telling her about themselves. And they would never have done that.

Taking the phone away from her, he put it back in the cradle and dropped her arm. But he didn’t step away.

She rubbed her wrist. “I want to see some ID.”

“We don’t have time for a dog and pony show. I have to get you out of here.”

“Get me out of here… What on earth are you talking about?” She started shaking her head. “I’m not going anywhere with you—”

He reached inside the pocket of his jacket, pulled out a leather wallet and flipped it open, handing it to her. She studied the card and the authentic-looking seal, comparing the photo to his face. The documentation meant nothing, but he carried it for people like her, people who kept their wits about them when he showed up. The Agency he worked for didn’t hand out IDs or have a fancy office. It didn’t even exist—at least not in a way that meant anything to others.

Looking unconvinced, she returned the credentials. “Where’s my family? What have you done to them?”

The lie tasted bad and he cursed himself for what he was about to do. The girl’s future held nothing but trouble, thanks to him. Along with confusion and anger. Grief and loneliness. He told himself again he didn’t have a choice, but that knowledge didn’t make the task any easier.

Plan your work and work your plan… His da would of been proud of him, he thought bitterly. Never give up, never say die. The old man had been full of useless clichés and he’d drilled every one of them into his sons—usually with a hard fist for punctuation—thinking they’d bring them the success that had always eluded him. His theory hadn’t worked.

The girl made a sound of distress, breaking his thoughts.

“Relax,” he said. “I haven’t done anything to them and I’m not going to do anything to you, either. If I’d wanted to, I would have done it by now.”

She moved back a step, away from him as much as possible, her eyes wary, her body still poised to flee. “Where are they?”

“There’s been a problem.”

Her expression shifted. “Are they okay? What’s happened? Where are—”

He interrupted her. “Your father saw something he shouldn’t have this morning. He saw someone get killed. And the murderer saw your father…”

“A murder… Oh my God!” She lifted her fingers to her neck. At the base of her throat, a slim gold chain glistened. His eyes went to the tiny heart it held. All at once, in spite of her bravado, she seemed too vulnerable to Gabriel, too defenseless to handle what was coming next. “But Dad’s okay, right? My family’s—”

Before she could finish her sentence, she halfway turned to the door, then stopped in confusion and looked at him again, her eyes filled with worry. Cold had seeped into the house since he’d cut off the power and her words came out in quick bursts of vapor. “I should go to the police station. That’s where they are, isn’t it? I’d better—”

“No.” Seeing his expression, finally sensing something, she stood still, his one-word answer hanging in the chilly living room between them.

He pointed to the couch. “Sit down.”

Surprising him, she followed his command.

“You can’t see them.” He held her eyes in the darkness, his words slicing through the moment with the sharpness of a razor held to a throat. “They’re dead.” He waited a second. “They’re gone. All of them.”

She blinked against the pronouncement, her expression a study of misunderstanding. “I don’t…” She shook her head slightly, her hair gleaming against the chenille upholstery of the sofa. She licked her lips and started over. “What do you mean, they’re ‘gone’? They can’t just be ‘gone.’ They have to be somewhere—”

Gabriel wasn’t sure why he moved to take her hand, but he did. Sitting down beside her, he reached out. Whatever his reason had been, though, it didn’t matter. She snatched her fingers away before he could touch her. He spoke quietly. “The shooter killed them.”

Unable to speak, she shook her head again, her fingers now spread across her open mouth.

“He couldn’t leave anyone who might testify against him later.”

“But Toby…Mother…”

“They were waiting for your father and saw what happened. The killer saw them, too.”

Her eyes deepened to a darker color, denial her only defense. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head again. “No. This…this can’t be happening. I—I don’t believe you…”

Reaching inside the pocket of his jacket, Gabriel pulled out an envelope and handed it to her. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the flap.

A moment later, she looked up from the wedding bands, her eyes so similar to her father’s, they threw Gabriel for a moment. “Th-this doesn’t prove anything. Y-you could have stolen them, for all I know.”

“I didn’t steal the rings. I had them with me because I was going to mail them to you later.” He paused. “I assumed your mother would have wanted you to have them.”

The girl’s reaction was a living thing; it sucked the air from the room and then from him. Gabriel fought the sensation and overcame it, but not without a struggle, which surprised him. He puzzled for a moment over why. Maybe it was the way she looked or maybe her youth. Either way, he didn’t know and he didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

“We have to leave.” He glanced at his watch then stood. Looking down at her, he came as close to the truth as he had all night. “The man your father saw—he’s associated with some very bad people. If they figure out you exist, they’re going to come after you, too. They won’t quit until they find you, and after they’ve used you up, they’ll kill you. If I can get you out of Los Lobos quickly enough and under some kind of protection, that might not happen.” He paused. “Emphasis on ‘might.’”

Alexis stared at him, her gaze so pointed it made him uneasy. “That doesn’t make sense. If my family was killed because they witnessed a murder, why would the killer—or anyone associated with him—come after me? I didn’t see anything.”

Gabriel wasn’t surprised she could analyze the situation while mired in grief. Robert had told him the truth.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she insisted.

“Of course it doesn’t make sense.” Gabriel made his voice harsh. “Do you think the baby could identify him?” He didn’t wait for her reply because he wasn’t going to get one—he’d shocked her, and that was exactly why he’d spoken as he had. “This man is a killer. He enjoys it. The people he surrounds himself with enjoy it, too. Killing is entertainment for them.”

Devastated by his words, she sat on the sofa, stunned and silent. The expression on her face made Gabriel feel ill but he ignored the sensation. “If you hadn’t shown up, this might not have been a problem, but you did, so now we have to deal with it. That’s why I’m here.”

Without waiting for her to reply, Gabriel moved toward the window. A car moved slowly down the street. Relatives looking for a holiday gathering or something else? His jaw tensed and the rest of his body followed. He turned away from the glass, a new urgency coming into his voice. “Get up and get ready. It’s time to leave.”

The speed of her movement took him so off guard, he automatically reached behind him, toward the .38. She flew at him, her hands clawing at his face.

“You’re lying to me!” she screamed. “You did something to them yourself! You’re the one who killed them!”

He gripped her arms and forced them down, slapping his fingers over her mouth to cut off her words before they had the chance to go any further. Above his hand, her eyes were huge.

“I did not kill your family,” he growled. “Why would I stick around here and wait for you to show up then tell you what I’d done? Does that even sound remotely logical?”

Instead of answering, she tried again to scream. He squeezed her jaw with the barest of force, shaking her slightly. “You don’t want to do this,” he warned. “You don’t want to make problems for me. Do you understand?”

Her body trembled, vibrated, in fact, like a string on a violin that had been drawn too roughly. Finally she blinked, then blinked again. He took that for a reply, but he didn’t remove his hand as he spoke.

“Problems for me mean problems for you. You do not—I repeat—do not want anyone to know you even came here tonight. Your flight records have already been erased and the car you came in is gone. I had it moved the minute you stepped inside here.” He took a deep breath, her scent reaching him before he could ignore it. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

This time he did ease his fingers, but he didn’t take away his hand. She started to speak, her mouth moving against the inside of his palm, sending a sensation into his gut.

“I called the police—”

“No, you didn’t,” he said.

It took her a stunned second to understand. “But I went to the center. I talked to the guard—”

He removed his hand, but kept his grip on her arm. “He’s been taken care of. Did you talk to anyone else, see anyone?”

“No…I…” She looked dazed, almost as if she was slipping into shock, her touch with reality slipping as well. “Ju-just the neighbors…” she said with distraction.

“They’ve been dealt with, too.” Locking his stare on hers, he spoke again. “Now all we have to do is take care of you…”

NUMB WITH DISBELIEF, Alexis watched the man gather up her things. He worked quickly and efficiently—he’d done this kind of thing before. Glancing into the dining room from the living room where she stood, she saw that he’d already removed the extra place setting from the table. If she bothered to look, she was sure she’d see that the linens in her bedroom were back in the closet as well. Within moments, he was finished. Glancing down at her watch, she was shocked by how quickly the minutes passed since she’d come back into the house.

He walked into the kitchen. She lifted her eyes to his face but she already had the details memorized; she could live to be a hundred and she’d never forget what he looked like. Wolfish eyes and thick black hair. Broad shoulders and a muscular body. A square jaw. A cruel mouth.

Cold. Stony. Callous.

His voice was clipped, his demeanor unreadable. Alexis had a fine ear for languages and she’d recognized the barest hint of an accent, something British, maybe Irish.

“It’s time.” The burr sounded again. “Let’s go.”

“Where—”

“Where doesn’t matter!” Until this point, his total calm had been almost eerie, his attitude colder than she could comprehend. Now she heard frustration, got a hint of anger.

He took a step toward her. “Don’t you get it? I’ve got to remove you and we’ve taken way too long already.” He jerked a thumb toward the street. “I can’t guarantee what’s going to happen if we don’t get out of here and soon.”

He headed toward the back door then turned when she didn’t follow. His eyes bored a painful path into her. “Don’t do this,” he warned.

Alexis shuffled toward him, her legs weak, her brain whirling with all the questions she had. How did she know this man was who he said he was? She certainly hadn’t recognized the badge or the name of his agency. And his story… God, it was crazy! She could be walking straight into something horrible instead of fleeing danger. Grief and terror mixed inside her with confusion and alarm. What should she do?

Her panic blossomed. She picked up the photo she’d looked at earlier. Then she tensed her body, pivoted and ran straight for the front door.

Her fingertips were brushing the doorknob when he grabbed her from behind.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” He twisted her around to face him, his breath hot against her cheeks. “Are you crazy? Do you want to die?”

“Let me go.” She pushed at his hands, but for all the good it did, she shouldn’t have bothered. His fingers were steel bars wrapped around her arms. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want—”

“Good God Almighty! I thought you were bright.” He shook her slightly, his tone so toxic she stopped her protests. His grip tightened. “Your father told me you had your mother’s brains. Was the poor man daft or was he lying to me?”

Alexis froze. Her father had teased her with those words a million times, his smile as wide as the gold band on his finger, the wedding band he, just like her mother, never removed. Ever.

One by one, the details added up and Alexis’s heart sank from the weight of them.

The man read her reaction immediately. He jerked the small frame from her fingers and stuffed it into his coat pocket. Then he turned and headed for the back door, yanking Alexis along behind him.

GABRIEL PICKED a no-name motel on the edge of the interstate three hours away. The place was run-down and deserted, which was exactly why he’d picked it. Paying cash, he then drove the van to the last room at the back of the low concrete-block building and parked, turning to look at Alexis as he switched off the engine. She was sitting on the floor of the vehicle and barely seemed aware of where they were. Her entire life had just been turned upside down and he was the one shaking the globe. If she ever found out the truth, the glimpses of resistance he’d witnessed earlier would pale in comparison to what would follow.

He pushed his thoughts aside and climbed out of the van. With one hand on his weapon, he let his eyes sweep the parking lot. As they’d escaped through the back of the Missions’ house to the van, he’d thought he’d heard a car drive by the front, but his men had told him to leave and he had, without looking back. He studied the empty blacktop before him now, then he twisted the door handle and reached inside. “Let’s go.”

She didn’t resist. Climbing out of the vehicle without a word, she walked beside him to the door of their room. The fact that his hand was wrapped around her upper arm assured her cooperation. He kept a steady hold on her until they stepped inside and he’d thrown the lock behind them.

The tiny room was clean, but that was all Gabriel could say about it. A small table in one corner was propped up by a telephone book, its lamp askew, the chair beside it worn and threadbare. Gabriel knew nothing about decorating, but the last time he’d seen a spread like the one stretched over the sagging bed, the year had been 1970-something.

He strode toward the bathroom and flipped on the light. A harsh fluorescence lit the room. He checked behind the shower curtain, then made the mistake of glancing into the mirror.

He’d aged ten years in the past forty-eight hours.

His skin was the pasty color of an old man’s, his hair spiky and dark. A black shadow covered his jaw-line and circles of exhaustion hung under his eyes. He scrubbed his face with his hands and looked again. God in heaven, no wonder Alexis Mission had been scared of him. He scared himself.

A sudden squeak sounded in the room behind him. His hand on his weapon, Gabriel pivoted and pushed through the door…then he relaxed. Alexis had lain down, the box springs so worn they creaked under even her slight weight. Walking over to the bed, he studied her but her expression was blank when she looked up at him.

“Are you hungry?” He glanced over his shoulder to the parking lot beyond the window. “I’ve got some stuff in the van if you are.”

She stared at him for a moment, then without a word she rolled over and faced the wall.

He stood silent and still. For now, she’d shut down, her emotions and reactions too raw and exposed for her to even comprehend, but later she’d have more questions. He’d seen it happen before. Gabriel turned to the chair in the corner and dragged it to the door with one hand. Propping it under the knob, he sat down wearily, his body unsteady, his mind drained. He wished he could sleep but knew he couldn’t.

A long time would come and go before he could experience that luxury again.

ALEXIS CLUTCHED her paper coffee cup, the steam rising slowly between her face and Gabriel O’Rourke’s. They were sitting inside the van, somewhere off the main highway, exactly where she had no idea. He’d woken her after what felt like only a few hours’ sleep, and they’d gotten into the vehicle, driving for a full hour before he was satisfied enough to stop and get them coffee from a run-down all-night diner. She wasn’t too sure what he was doing, but she suspected he was checking to see if they were being followed. The knowledge didn’t make her feel any better. Neither had waking up and realizing he’d been watching her as she’d slept.

He was trying his best to fool her, but she was sure the man sitting in front of her knew more than he was letting on. She swallowed the pain and confusion that filled her. “Who do you work for, again?”

“You’ve already asked me that and I’ve answered it. Asking me again is not going to get you a different response.” A lock of dark hair fell down on his forehead before he pushed it back impatiently. “It doesn’t matter anyway. All I’m here to do is make sure you understand what has happened and what’s going to happen next.”

Despite everything he’d said, she couldn’t accept—didn’t want to accept—what he’d told her. It wasn’t possible, she kept telling herself. “I—I can’t just walk away like this. No funeral. No services. It’s not right.”

His glance went to the deserted highway that ran beside them, exactly as it had at least a dozen times while they’d been sitting there drinking coffee. When his eyes came back to Alexis, they held a different kind of darkness from before, and she trembled, despite herself.

“I thought you understood.” He leaned closer, his manner hard and impatient. “I don’t know how to say it any other way than I’ve already said it a thousand times. You can’t see the bodies or bury them. It would take too much time. In fact, we’ve already…taken care of that.” He held out his hands almost in defeat, the first gesture he’d made that seemed human to her. “I’m sorry, Alexis, but they’re gone.” He shook his head. “They are gone.”

She wasn’t sure if it was his voice or the use of her name, but all at once his words sunk in, the reality of what they actually meant ripping into her with a force that tore her breath away. The last vestige of her denial was destroyed along with it.

“They’re dead,” she whispered.

He nodded, a tinge of something that looked like pity crossing his expression before he could prevent its appearance.

“Toby’s only four,” she said inexplicably.

“He was four.”

His use of the past tense didn’t escape her, but Alexis refused to let herself cry. She wouldn’t let him see her do that. It took everything she had, but she composed herself, then looked up. Gabriel O’Rourke stared back. His eyes held the total force of his intensity and it was directed straight at her.

“You cannot go back to Los Lobos. Ever. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said numbly.

“The house will be sold. The proceeds will go into a bank account and they’ll be forwarded to you. Everything else—any other accounts they might have held—will be sent to you later.” He crumpled his coffee cup and dropped it to the floorboard of the van. “I’m going to put you on a plane in a bit and you’ll fly away from here. People will meet you at the other end. They’ll take care of you.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll get a new life.”

“A new life? I don’t want a new life. I want my old one back.”

“That’s impossible. It’s gone.”

“That easily?” She snapped her fingers, her voice breaking. “You can erase people’s existence just like that? Their history? Their lives? Everything they are? You have that much power?”

He ignored the question. “After this, you’re going to be someone else. My organization doesn’t put people into the Witness Protection Program but they will help you. You’ll get a new home and a new name—”

She laughed, an edge of hysteria accompanying the sound. “Do I get a new family, too? A new mom and dad? How about a baby brother? Can we add a little sister, too?”

He didn’t react at all. He simply stared at her, those bottomless black eyes taking it all in without a flicker.

She blinked and looked away, the finality hitting her again, harder than ever. She thought of a thousand things she wished she’d grabbed from the house. Her mother’s fake pearls. The video of her graduation. Toby’s Pooh bear. Her father’s favorite sweater. None of it valuable but all of it priceless. Then she thought of the photo. When Gabriel O’Rourke had ripped that picture from her hands, he’d taken her history as well. Her past was gone. Her family was gone.

She was gone. The person she’d been twenty-four hours ago no longer existed.

And she had a bad feeling that she didn’t even know the real reason behind the nightmare. “Why?” she said almost to herself. “Why?”

Surprising her, the man in black answered her question, his voice a knife. “Your father was an honorable man, that’s why. He always did the right thing.”

“And Mom?”

He shrugged, the emotion he’d allowed her to see already evaporating, already disappearing. “She loved him.” He paused. “Just like they both loved you. That’s one thing that’s for certain.”

“Nothing’s for certain.” Alexis looked down, into her coffee mug. An oily reflection of her face looked back, more real to her right now than her actual existence. She lifted her eyes. “Not anymore. You’ve taken that away from me.”

“But you have your life,” he answered. “And you will be safe. I’ll see to that.”

She tried to doubt him but she couldn’t. For the first time since they’d met, she knew Gabriel O’Rourke was telling her the truth.

HE TOOK HER to a small private airstrip, three hours away from where they’d been. They didn’t speak the whole trip, both occupied with their own thoughts and regrets. He’d let her ride in the passenger seat after they’d finished their coffee, his fears growing dimmer with each mile he put between the house on the quiet street and them. When they arrived and he’d parked, Gabriel turned to the young woman beside him.

He thought he’d aged, but Alexis Mission now looked like an entirely different person. Part of the change was at his insistence. They’d stopped at a twenty-four-hour drugstore and gotten a bottle of bleach and some harsh makeup. In a service-station bathroom near the interstate, the brunette he’d grabbed inside the Mission home had become a blonde with a slash of red lipstick that didn’t match her skin tone.

The changes to Alexis Mission went beyond just the physical, though. Her eyes were completely empty, her demeanor that of another person. She was someone less sure, he decided. Someone less confident, the darkness of depression already settling into her soul.

A small Cessna taxied out of a rusted hangar to their right and headed to where they were parked. Behind the plane, the tips of the mountains were just beginning to glow in the rising sun’s rays. Gabriel handed Alexis an envelope and she took it woodenly, placing it in her lap.

“There’s some cash in there to get you by until the money is wired. My people at the other end will give you more.” He held out a small white card and she took it, too. “That’s how you can reach me. It’s a drop number.”

She looked at him impassively.

“You call it and leave a message,” he explained. “Then I phone you back. You won’t ever get me directly. The system doesn’t work that way.”

Her eyes went to the piece of paper with the phone number written on it. She stared at it for a moment then she crumpled the note into a ball and opened her fingers. It fell to the floorboards.

“You might need that,” he said softly.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “You’ve done enough already.”

Her stiff reply wasn’t a compliment. Alexis Mission held him accountable for everything that had happened because she had no one else to blame. Similar damnation had been heaped on him before.

But he hadn’t cared then.

He felt the need to say something. “Alexis, your family was… Your mom and dad…”

“Don’t bother,” she said. The swosh of the plane’s rotors drawing close, she opened the van’s door, a wave of frigid air sweeping into the vehicle as she stepped out. She spoke through the window, her fingers gripping the edge so tightly her knuckles went white. “I don’t want to hear whatever you’re trying to say to me. I’ve had enough of your lies to last me forever.”

Her glittering gaze met with his, then she turned and walked away.

CHAPTER THREE

Ten years later, Austin, Texas

ALEX WORTHINGTON dusted off the last table in her workroom and picked up an errant paintbrush that had escaped her notice. Tucking the brush into a nearby drawer, she surveyed the area one more time. When Claiborne Academy’s final bell rang at Thanksgiving break, most of the staff fled as quickly as the students, but not Alex. She liked to return in January to a tidy space and a fresh start.

Fresh starts were her specialty. She’d had quite a few of them.

Claiborne itself represented one of the better ones. Alex had been the school’s resident artist for almost four years, her longest stretch anywhere. A private facility, the exclusive Austin school that blended art and technology was the favorite of parents who had plenty of money and wanted to spend it on their kids. When they’d hired her, she’d warned the administrators she wasn’t a teacher and they’d said they weren’t looking for one. Claiborne was innovative—the facility needed someone who would “guide” the children into developing their own creativeness, not teach them.

Atypical in its schedule as well as its philosophy, the academy shut down completely between Thanksgiving and New Year’s so the students and their families could head across the globe to second homes and exotic vacations. The faculty escaped as best they could and collapsed…working at Claiborne demanded a lot.

Alex was different though. She didn’t mind the hours any more than she minded tidying up her area, especially at this time of year. For obvious reasons, the holiday stretch always left her feeling restless and anxious. She usually planned an out-of-the-way trip herself, but before she could make reservations this year, Ben had called.

They’d married six years ago. After two, they’d divorced but had remained really good friends. Ben had asked her to spend Christmas with him and Libby, his twenty-year-old daughter. Alex couldn’t turn him down. Twenty-five years her senior, Ben was dying from a rare liver disease and he wouldn’t see another Christmas. If he wanted Alex with him, then she had to go. She owed him that much…and probably a lot more.

Taking down the last of the few decorations she put up each year—a gathered stalk of dried corn and apples—she told herself she’d get through tomorrow, then concentrate on Ben and Libby. They each needed Alex in a different way, and helping them would take her mind off her memories and all the ghosts that came with them.

But just thinking about the past summoned everything to her. Her fingers suddenly tightened on the dried corn husks and pieces of the chaff fluttered to the floor. She stared at the yellow bits, then all at once, despite her best intentions, her heart started to pound and her mouth went dry. With a quiet groan, she closed her eyes. Behind the lids, the image of her mother’s wreath appeared. The lopsided arrangement looked just as it had on the door of the house in Los Lobos the day Alex had come home from Peru.

Gabriel O’Rourke’s face came next, but before it could fully form, a voice broke the silence.

“Hey, you’re supposed to go home first and then fall asleep!”

Alex’s eyes shot open. Randy Squires, Claiborne’s dean, stood in the doorway of her classroom and grinned.

She smiled gratefully at the tall, balding man. Randy was a sweetheart and he never failed to make her feel better, no matter how badly the day had gone. If she let him, she suspected he’d give his right arm to make her happy, although he’d never come out and asked her for a date or made any kind of obvious move. He was too professional for that, but even more importantly, he sensed the wall Alex kept around herself and respected it.

“I’m too tired to go home and go to bed,” she lied. “I think I’ll just hibernate here like some big old bear until January. Is that okay?”

He strolled into her classroom and perched on the edge of her desk. “No fancy trips this year? No big vacation?”

Alex shook her head and explained Ben’s situation.

“I’m sorry to hear he’s so ill.”

“I am, too.” She sat down at one of the tables in front of her desk. “Ben’s a nice guy.”

“Your divorce was amicable, I take it?”

“Very. The last thing Ben Worthington would do is make a fuss over a divorce. He’s too much of a gentleman.”

“But the marriage didn’t work?”

Alex didn’t discuss anything personal with anyone. She couldn’t. “No,” she said in a curt voice. “It didn’t work.”

Her sharpness brought him to his feet. “I guess I’d better head home. If you get bored during the break, give me a call. There’s a new Mexican place over on Guadalupe Street. We could hit it.”

Alex felt a sweep of guilt—she shouldn’t have been so harsh—but she kept her face noncommittal. “Sure.” She nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

Then their eyes met and both of them knew she wouldn’t call.

He left a few minutes after that. Relief washed over Alex as she picked up her purse and briefcase to follow his path out the door. Randy was the kind of guy any woman would be thrilled to have. Any woman but Alex.

She didn’t want anyone in her life, so it was always best to head off relationships before they started: You never knew when the other person might up and disappear.

GABRIEL O’ROURKE watched the bartender flick his rag at the caged parrot hanging over the bar. The sight provided the most entertainment Gabriel had had in the past two days. There wasn’t much to do in Baja this time of year. Or any time of year, but that was exactly why Gabriel came here, or so he told himself.

He’d left the Agency the year before, and he hadn’t given a damn about anything during that time. Caring cost more than he had to give, emotionally and physically. Burned out and disillusioned, when he needed money he did contract work for the government.

He took a sip of his lukewarm Dos Equis and listened to the conversation of the people sitting behind him in the bar. They’d come in late last night, two couples from Denver. The men had talked incessantly about fishing, but Gabriel had the feeling they’d already been hooked. One blonde, one redhead, the women were much younger than the men and their jewelry outshone the lights above the bar. Gabriel wondered idly if the men’s wives knew where they were.

“Well, pecan is my favorite.” One of the women behind him spoke in a deep Southern accent, the words drifting over Gabriel’s shoulder along with cigar smoke from the man at her side. Gabriel glanced at her in the mirror above the bar—it was the blonde. “We always had it on the table when I was growing up. It’s just not Thanksgiving without pecan pie.”

The redhead said something, the men guffawing at her reply, but Gabriel didn’t hear her. His brain was still trying to absorb what the first woman had said.

Until that very moment, he hadn’t realized tomorrow would be Thanksgiving.

A shadow glided across his memory, the whisper of a young woman with a pale face and stunned expression. He blinked and tried to send her away, but he failed as always. Standing up, he threw a handful of pesos on the bar and left, the cool breeze from the ocean hitting his face as he walked outside.

The ghost of Alexis Mission followed him.

Opening the screen door to his bungalow, Gabriel stepped inside the one-room shack. He grabbed another beer from a cooler he kept stocked, then he turned and went back outside to the porch. Fifteen yards away the Pacific Ocean rolled endlessly, the sky beyond it so dark and deep it made him dizzy just to look at it. He’d been on the sandy strip of beach for a week, his original reason for coming the same as the men in the bar—the fishing. He had yet to rent a boat though, and when he was honest with himself, he knew he probably wouldn’t. He’d come to Baja to recuperate, not to fish.

The month before, he’d finished another job for the Agency…and another relationship, and he’d wanted somewhere private to lick his wounds. Usually he missed the former more than the latter, but this time had been different.

He’d met the woman in a bar and Gabriel had been shocked when she’d come to his table and sat down to strike up a conversation. Like men everywhere, he’d kept his mouth shut and let her do her thing, his ego inflating with each admiring glance she’d sent his way. She’d been beautiful and smart and ambitious. Younger than him, too, a helluva lot younger, but then again…weren’t they all?

She’d moved in two weeks later and out after two months. He’d packed up his shit and left San Diego. It wasn’t home anyway—no place was home. He’d come down here.

And now it was almost Thanksgiving.

Gabriel stared at the water but Alexis Mission’s face formed in the waves and mocked him. Like still photos framed inside his mind, he saw snapshots of her life, times when he’d been there and she’d never known. The rough period right after Los Lobos. The emergency room, then the recuperation. The paintings. Her wedding. The divorce. Her job. Each event had brought him close to her…but never too close.

Gabriel had told so many lies in his work he couldn’t remember them all, but he’d never forgotten the ones he’d told Alexis Mission.

Back then, though, catching Guy Cuvier had been his only goal. The man had gotten away with stealing American technology for years and Gabriel had been so determined to stop him that nothing else had mattered. The result had been disastrous and the deception still haunted him: Alexis Mission’s parents hadn’t been killed. And Richard Mission hadn’t witnessed a murder.

He’d committed one.

It’d been self-defense, of course, but Richard had shot Guy Cuvier. Gabriel had worked quickly, knowing nothing but a total disappearance could keep the Missions safe afterward. He’d been wrong about that and regretted the decision as much as he now regretted telling Alexis that her family had died. The idea had seemed like a bad one at the time; in retrospect, it was the worst thing Gabriel could have done.

In the past few years, it seemed as if things had begun to smooth out for Alexis. The new name had become her own, the town her home, the life, one she liked. Deep down, however, Gabriel often wondered if her adjustment was genuine. In his eyes, she wore her past like a mask she couldn’t take off. The divorce had set her back, too. Before she’d even married the guy, Gabriel had predicted the outcome. Ben Worthington had been too old for Alexis. He was incapable of giving her what she searched for, what she needed.

Truth be told, Gabriel had actually thought at one point about making contact with her, but he’d held back. Why disrupt her life a second time? Six months after Los Lobos, part of the lie he’d told her had actually come to pass, but there was no good reason to revive her sorrow. She’d already grieved for her parents and brother—unearthing an empty grave just to dig a real one was too cruel to even consider. Gabriel carried enough guilt as it was.

He told himself she wouldn’t have listened to him, anyway. Before leaving the cold mountains outside of Los Lobos, Alexis Mission had made herself perfectly clear; he was the last person on earth she ever wanted to see again. She hated him.

Gabriel hadn’t felt the same way about her. He’d made a promise to watch over her, but for the past ten years that pledge had meant nothing to him.

He’d kept vigil over Alexis Mission because he couldn’t stay away.

THEY SAID they heated the pool, but the water still felt icy to Alex. She stuck her big toe into the deep end and tried not to think about it, choosing instead to simply dive in and swim. As it was with most things, that seemed to be the best policy. With even, steady strokes she sliced through the water and quickly reached the other end. Touching the cold tile with her fingertips, she sucked in a breath then flipped over to head back the way she had just come.

The natatorium wasn’t usually empty but it might as well have been tonight. Only two other swimmers occupied the lanes to either side, their strokes splashing loud enough to keep her company. Everyone was sleeping off their Thanksgiving feasts; going to the YMCA was the last thing on their minds.

In general, Alex liked it when no one else was around and she was the only one in the water. Tonight, though, she welcomed the other swimmers. There was something creepy about the echoing walls, something unnerving about the size of the room.

She was nervous and edgy, more behind her anxiety than just the holidays: For the past few days she’d been sure someone was following her. Every time she’d stepped outside her apartment, she’d experienced the horrible sensation of eyes on her back. Her neck would tingle and she’d look around sharply, but so far she’d spotted no one. The feeling refused to leave, however.

Thrusting these thoughts away, she swam for almost forty minutes, her arms and legs growing heavy toward the end. A half-hour workout was her usual maximum, but tonight she wanted to tire herself out completely. She finished the final lap then clung to the edge of the pool and fought to regain her breath. When her huffing and puffing slowed and she looked around, she realized everyone else had left. She was all alone.

Paddling quickly to the edge of the pool, Alex climbed out and grabbed the towel she’d draped over a chair. She made her way to the ladies’ locker room and within fifteen minutes, she’d showered and dressed and was on her way to the parking lot.

The day had been a repeat of Alex’s other Thanksgivings. Over the years, she’d developed a finely tuned ritual, a way she both remembered then walked away from her past. The rite was never completely successful of course, but one day it might be. One day she might find herself unable to recall every single detail.

As she always did, she’d started the morning by writing a letter to Toby. There were ten of the white envelopes now, sitting in a box, just waiting. He would never read the letters, of course, but they weren’t for her little brother anyway. They were for her. She didn’t want to forget him. When she finished that task, she sat back and closed her eyes. The memories she kept tightly guarded the rest of the year were then allowed out.

The empty house. The icy road. The look on Gabriel O’Rourke’s face when he’d told her her family was dead. As soon as she could, rendering the images with sharp, swift strokes, Alexis had re-created the photo that he’d ripped from her hands that night. Holding that sketch, she sat in the middle of her bed and let the past flood her. At first, the ritual had almost killed her, but lately, the mental pictures had begun to dim. If she hadn’t had her charcoal memory, her mother’s eyes would be a blur now, her father’s expression a dim relief. Alex wasn’t sure if this was good or bad.

She immersed herself in the pain for an hour and then she stopped. The ghosts went back into the lock-box she kept inside her heart. The framed drawing returned to its position on her nightstand and she forced herself through the day.

The YMCA had been a last-minute addition to her routine. Because of her anxiety about being followed, the ritual hadn’t cooperated and the past kept breaking in, flashes of the night she wanted to forget coming back. Reaching her car, Alex knew she’d have to think of something else to do to keep it all at bay. She’d pick up some movies, she decided impulsively, throwing her gym bag into the car and starting it. Something that would keep her mind more occupied than the book she’d been saving for that evening.

She stopped at the video store down the road from her apartment and grabbed two mindless films. The Thai place next door was open, so she went in there as well and ordered takeout. By the time she reached home, she’d managed to kill another hour. Glancing down at her watch, she figured she only had four more hours to endure. She’d allow herself a single sleeping pill then hopefully wake up to a day with fewer memories.

The parking lot of her apartment was almost as empty as the YMCA’s pool had been. The complex was a small one near the University of Texas campus and a lot of the university people lived there. Students and professors alike, they were a transient bunch, coming and going with each semester, a fast turnover of neighbors who fled during the holidays and summer. Some people wouldn’t have liked it for that very reason, but that was exactly why Alex had selected the apartment. She didn’t want long-term neighbors who had to know your life’s history. When you didn’t have one you could talk about, conversation turned stilted.

Tonight, though, just like at the pool, she would have welcomed a few more souls. The hollow echo of her tennis shoes slapping the sidewalk was too reminiscent, the cold too chilling, the empty feeling too familiar. She had friends she could have called, other teachers, people from church… A number of them had even invited her to their homes for the holiday meal, but she’d turned down all the offers as she always did at Thanksgiving. She needed to be lonely on Thanksgiving.

But knowing this didn’t diminish the emotion. Or the feelings of being frightened that were mixed with the loneliness. She ordered herself to buck up. She’d get through this year just as she had the other nine. By sheer grit and determination.

Alex climbed the stairs to her second-floor landing, then shifted the gym bag and the two plastic sacks to her left hand so she could unlock her door. Stepping inside, she closed the door behind her and locked it once more.

Then she froze.

Something wasn’t right.

Someone had been inside her apartment.

Her glance shot to her right, into the well-lit living room. Her apartment was close to the pool and the lights from the patio came through her blinds at night. Bright lines sifted their way through the open slats to reveal the sofa and two chairs. They were empty. To her left, behind a wall, was a small kitchen.

Alex carefully emptied her arms, the sacks going to the floor, her gym bag dropping silently to a nearby table. With her eyes still sweeping the room in front of her, she felt behind her for the bat she kept by the front door. Gripping the taped handle with both hands, she advanced into the entry, her back to the wall, and lifted the bat to her shoulder as she stepped around the wall.

The kitchen was as empty as it had been when she’d left.

Her pulse ringing, Alex returned to the hallway that led to the guest bedroom. The room served as her studio and was filled with art equipment, a worktable and a potter’s wheel, a small loom and drawing supplies. As she eased around the doorway, her eyes jerked to one corner, her heart stopping with a violent thump. A tall shadow was poised by the window. A second later, her scream died in her throat.

She was looking at her easel.

Sick with fright, she returned to the corridor and forced herself to continue. The guest bath was empty, too. The only rooms left were her bedroom and bath.

She crept toward the back of the apartment, her palms so wet her grip on the bat was slipping. Suddenly she wished she hadn’t done the extra laps at the pool. The polished piece of oak felt as if it weighed fifty pounds. She wasn’t sure she could swing it if she had to.

But her bedroom was just as empty as the rest of the place, the white matelassé bedspread smooth and pristine, her slippers tossed carelessly beside the bed, her robe in the chair on the right. Her chest eased slightly, her fear starting to fade.

It wouldn’t have been the first time on Thanksgiving that she’d imagined the presence of another person in her home.

Her bathroom was as empty as the rest of the place.

She was alone and no one had been in her apartment. The day had gotten to her, that’s all. Her imagination—and her memories—were conjuring ghosts.

Her shoulders slumped and Alex leaned weakly against the tiled wall, taking a deep breath. Then the heat came on, and all at once she caught a whiff of gardenias. Her mother’s favorite fragrance.

Alex knew what she smelled wasn’t really there—it couldn’t be—but her body went cold, her blood refusing to go through her veins. She held her breath for as long as she could, then she slowly released it and inhaled again. The scent was gone.

Letting the bat slip from her fingers, she waited for her heart to slow, the beats gradually subsiding from a pounding rhythm to a steady pulse. After a bit, she looked into the bathroom mirror and shook her head at what she saw. Her face was an oval of white, her expression frightened and anxious. She lifted her hands and nervously fingered her hair, the strands still limp and damp from her shower at the pool.

Returning to the living room, she sent her glance to the corner of the room. For years, she’d had nightmares after Los Lobos. She dreamed the same thing each time; she’d come home, unlock the door, and there would be a man waiting in the living room. Grabbing her by the arms, he would pull her toward the wall, then the wall would disappear, a huge hole replacing it. Looking straight into her eyes, he would pitch her into the darkness. Before she hit the bottom, she always woke up, shaking and screaming.

The man was faceless. But she knew who he was.

Turning abruptly, she went into the kitchen. She grabbed a plate from the cabinet above the sink and dumped the container of pad thai into its center, sticking it into the microwave and punching the buttons with a trembling finger. She forced her mind into a blank state that didn’t allow for any thinking.

Hours later, she woke up on the couch, her neck stiff from the hard cushions, her legs cramped. The clock read one-thirty, her dirty dishes were spread across the coffee table and the movie she’d rented had stopped on the DVD. She stumbled to her feet and thought about cleaning up, then rejected the idea. The mess would be fine until morning—she didn’t want to wake up enough to deal with it. Her mind would grab the opportunity to go into high gear again and she’d never get back to sleep.

Feeling her way to the bedroom, Alex peeled off her clothes and dropped them at the foot of her bed, reaching for the nightgown she’d left on the chair. Her eyes half-closed, she found the silky garment and slipped it over her head. She didn’t bother to wash her face or brush her hair. She simply yanked back the covers and fell into bed, her gaze flicking automatically toward the frame on her bedside table. Looking at those long-ago lost faces was the last thing she did every night and the first thing she did every morning.

She blinked once, then once again, her groggy brain not understanding the message her eyes had just sent. Finally, she reached out with a trembling hand and turned on the bedside lamp.

The nightstand was empty. Her sketch was gone.

CHAPTER FOUR

PARALYZED BY WHAT she didn’t see, Alex held her breath and tried to understand. She was sure the drawing had been there that morning. She distinctly remembered sitting in the bed and holding it in her hands, staring at it, in fact.

Had she dropped it? Knocked it off the table? Put it somewhere else? Her heart lurched as she recalled the perfume she’d thought she’d smelled earlier, but she instantly pushed the idea aside. She was crazy to even think about it. Her mother was dead.

Throwing off the covers, Alex fell from the bed to the floor where she began to search. Looking around to the back of the table and then underneath the bed frame, she found nothing but dust balls. No glint of silver, no paper with charcoal smudges…nothing.

She jumped to her feet and ran into the bathroom. The countertop was as uncluttered as always, a box of tissues and her makeup bag taking up one corner, her toothbrush, a can of hair spray and some jewelry clustered at the other end. Feeling foolish, she drew back the shower curtain. The empty tub gleamed.

Her consternation grew, but as Alex made a quick circuit of the apartment, she realized the rooms were exactly as she had left them when she’d gone to sleep on the sofa. Not a thing had been touched, not even the cash she kept in a jar in the kitchen for emergencies. Nothing was missing. Except for the sketch.

Panic swept over her. She fought the crushing weight, but it was stronger than she was and all at once she couldn’t breathe. Nausea came with the suffocation. She clawed at her throat, then gave up. Half running, half stumbling, she made it into the living room and grabbed the phone at the end of the couch.

She meant to dial 911, but her fingers punched out a different number. It was already ringing when she realized what she’d done.

“SEÑOR! Señor Bradford…”

Gabriel halted his unsteady progress across the hotel lobby as the clerk behind the counter called out his current alias. Sunburned, cranky and more than halfway tanked, Gabriel had actually gone fishing late that afternoon. By the time he and his guide had cleaned their catch, cooked it and finished the beer, midnight had come and gone. Glancing to where the clerk stood, Gabriel decided to blow him off. Then he looked at the man’s face. He wore such an anxious expression Gabriel immediately changed course and went straight to the desk.

“You have a message.” The clerk reached behind the counter. “Several of them. A woman has been calling you more than one times. She did not believe me when I told her you weren’t here. It is not good news, señor. You have my condolences…”

A ripple of unease went down Gabriel’s spine and the bit of buzz he’d had left instantly.

Without a word, he took the pink message slips from the clerk. There were three of them and they each had the same message.

Grandmother has died. Call home immediately. Your loving sister, Samantha.

Gabriel stared at the writing and willed the words away, but when he looked again, they hadn’t disappeared. He had no sisters by that name or any other. His grandmother had been dead and gone for twenty-five years, his father for five. His mom had disappeared when he was seven and no one had seen or heard from her since.

This message was from his drop number. Someone had called him.

With the clerk’s repeated sympathies still ringing in the lobby, Gabriel made his way to his bungalow. He never left the country without calling the Agency and giving them his itinerary. It was a good thing old habits die hard, he guessed, his heart beating against his ribs.

Once inside, he went straight for his bags. Digging into his duffel, he found his phone—a palm-size unit that used an encoded satellite line. He dialed the number from memory then glanced at his watch as it rang. It was almost one-thirty in the morning, but where he was calling they didn’t sleep.

The woman who answered didn’t acknowledge him in any way. She simply began to speak.

“You had a call at 1:40 a.m. central standard time.”

He calculated quickly. The south of Baja was an hour behind CST. The original call had come into the center more than forty-five minutes ago. He waited for the operator to continue, but she said nothing else.

“No message?”

“The subject hung up. The number was private. It originated from Austin, in Texas—”

His chest suddenly felt as if someone had put a vise around it and was squeezing hard. Gabriel interrupted the woman’s mechanical voice, his own a growl. “She didn’t say anything? Are you sure?”

“No verbal communication was recorded.”

Gabriel digested the answer, his brain flashing through a thousand possibilities, none of them good. In the silence that followed, the woman spoke again.

“Do you have instructions?”

“If she calls back, give her this number.” Gabriel read off his cell phone number. “Then you call me and let me know she phoned. Try to get her to talk to you.”

“Anything else?”

Find out what’s happened and why she’s calling me after all these years. Ask her if she still hates me. Ask her if she’s okay.

Ask her if she can ever forgive me.

“No,” he said after a long moment. “That’s all.”

He punched the end key on the phone and stuffed the tiny unit into his pocket, stunned disbelief coming over him. Why now? What was going on with Alexis that she was desperate enough to call him?

Totally disconcerted, Gabriel walked out to the sandy beach. At the water’s edge he stopped and stared. The Pacific rolled in and out as steadily as it had before, but all at once the waves looked more hazardous, the empty blackness more menacing.

The world was suddenly a more dangerous place.

ALEX FINGERED the silken teddy, her eyes searching the lingerie department for Libby. Ben’s daughter had pointed out the expensive pink and ivory confection when they’d first seen it, and Alex had decided right then it would make the perfect Christmas present for the young woman. Looking around, Alexis spotted Libby’s tall form and red hair in the next section—she’d already moved on to the sweaters. Quickly locating the proper size, Alex took her selection to the counter and waited in line to pay for it, her mind slipping away from the task at hand and back to the subject she most wanted to forget.

A week had passed since she’d called Gabriel O’Rourke, and every day she’d cursed herself for being so stupid. She’d hung up without saying a word, but why on earth had she even dialed the number? It had been a ridiculous move and pointless as well. There had to be some reasonable explanation for why her drawing was missing. Her apartment had been locked and nothing else disturbed. No one could have gotten in without picking the lock, and why do that without stealing anything but a sketch? She must have put the picture somewhere and just forgotten about it. She’d been completely stressed out the past few weeks—it was entirely possible she’d done just that. Scary but possible.

The feeling had persisted—intensified even—that someone was watching her and maybe following her, as well. She’d even thought she’d seen a figure dressed in black standing beside her car the other night after she’d left the movies. She’d managed to convince herself she’d been imagining that, too, but…

Someone said something to her and Alex realized she was at the head of the line and others behind her were waiting. Paying for her purchase, she slipped the box into her larger shopping bag and stepped away, determined not to think anymore about her situation.

She found Libby at a display counter, her hand caressing a blue cashmere pullover.

“That’s gorgeous,” Alex said, reaching out and touching the sweater. “The color matches your eyes perfectly. Why don’t you try it on?”

Libby looked up from the sweater then around at the confusion of people and decorations. Usually outgoing and happy, she shook her head dejectedly as “Jingle Bells” blared from overhead speakers. “I’m just not in the mood, Alex. Christmas is going to be so sad…I don’t want any presents.”

Alex smiled gently and put her hand on top of Libby’s fingers. “I know, sweetheart, and I understand completely. But your dad doesn’t feel that way. He wants you to have a good Christmas.”

“A good Christmas isn’t possible. Not with him so sick.”

“I feel the same way, but your dad’s feelings are the ones we need to worry about right now.” She picked up the cashmere and handed it to the young woman. “Go try it on. Then come out and show me.”

Libby nodded reluctantly and Alex watched as she headed for the dressing rooms, her heart breaking over everything Libby was having to go through. The girl wasn’t at all prepared to lose Ben and had no idea what to do. Her mother had passed away during childbirth and Ben had pampered his only child ever since, trying to make up for the loss, his own and hers. Because of this overindulgence, Libby had never been responsible for anyone, including herself. She was naive and idealistic, a college student without goals. And soon she’d be all alone.

Alex turned back to the sweaters, emotion twisting in her stomach. She’d been younger than Libby when she’d run off with Esteban, but her return home had matured her quickly. Too quickly.

Libby came out of the back and saved Alex from further thought. The sweater looked as lovely as Alex had known it would and she bought it immediately. Ben had handed her his credit card and told her to get whatever caught Libby’s eye. But so far, not much had. She was too despondent.

They shopped a few more hours, then Alex drove Libby home. She and Ben lived off Town Lake in an expensive enclave of huge homes. Ben had been a stockbroker until he’d been forced by his illness to quit. He hadn’t needed to work at that point but he’d enjoyed it. When Libby invited her in, Alex didn’t have the heart to turn her down. The house felt empty and silent with Ben so sick. She couldn’t imagine how quiet the enormous place must seem to Libby.

They went in through the back, stopping for a minute to talk to Margaret, the housekeeper. She’d been with the family for quite some time and Alex was grateful that at least she was there to help keep Libby company.

Climbing the stairs to the upper floor, Alex girded herself. Each time she saw Ben it seemed as if he’d shrunk another inch or two, his tall and robust frame becoming smaller and smaller. His attitude was always terrific, though, and today was no exception.

“Hey!” he said, brightening up the minute they walked into his bedroom. “How are my two favorite girls? Did you spend all my money? I hope you did.”

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