RUNNING OUT OF TIME

Reeling from the news of her late mother’s secret life in the Mafia, Gabriella Radcliffe has twenty-four hours to return incriminating evidence her mother stole from them. If she fails, her newfound “family” will kill her aunt—but Gabriella has no idea what the evidence is or where to find it. When her old friend Luke McGuire stumbles on a rogue Mafia member threatening Gabriella, he’s shot as they flee from the thug. Now with the clock ticking, Gabriella and Luke are trapped inside her family ranch, following her mother’s clues to the items that can free them. But as they fight to save Gabriella’s only surviving family member, somebody else wants to find the evidence first…and he’s willing to kill for it.

“Did someone hurt you?”

Gabriella looked forward and focused on the trees swaying in the breeze, but it only served to remind her of the ticking clock. Twenty-four hours left until they killed her great-aunt, and she had no idea where to begin.

Who could she call? The police? The FBI? Absolutely not.

She moved to get out of the car. Luke stood to make room for her. He held out a hand to help her.

Normally, she’d wave it away, but as heavy as her bones felt she accepted. The strength in his grip as he gently pulled her to standing bolstered her determination. She would not let those men hurt her great-aunt Freddie—the woman had been like a second mother to her.

“Luke, it’s not a good time to look at the property, after all. I’ll call you to reschedule?”

Luke didn’t flinch, and his hand didn’t move from her wrist. “This isn’t business. I’m here as a friend. My receptionist said you were arguing with that man before you left, and the black sedan followed you. What happened?”

HEATHER WOODHAVEN earned her pilot’s license, rode a hot air balloon over the safari lands of Kenya, parasailed over Caribbean seas, lived through an accidental detour onto a black diamond ski trail in Aspen and snorkeled among stingrays before becoming a mother of three and wife of one. She channels her love for adventure into writing characters who find themselves in extraordinary circumstances.

Code of Silence

Heather Woodhaven

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

—Philippians 4:8

To my husband, my critique group and to my editor, Emily Rodmell. Thank you for not being silent with your encouragement and ideas. You make these stories shine. And chocolate, you deserve some credit, too.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

DEAR READER

Extract

Copyright

ONE

The shadow of a car darkened the patch of asphalt in front of her. Gabriella’s neck tingled, and she held her breath. Everywhere she went, a black sedan crossed her path, as if following her.

Grief continued playing tricks on her mind.

The first few times she’d spotted the boxy-shaped vehicle, she’d thought she’d seen a hearse. She blinked. The car didn’t so much as slow down as it passed by the parking lot and turned the corner, proving her thoughts to be ludicrous once again. No car—and definitely no hearse—was following her.

Gabriella pressed the papers she’d gathered against her chest and locked her car door. Instead of enjoying her summer break from teaching math at a junior high school, she needed to implore Luke McGuire for help. His voice had sounded as kind and smooth as ever on the phone when she’d scheduled the appointment, but she hadn’t seen him since college, when their fiancés dumped both of them for each other. And a lot could change in eight years.

Gabriella ran her left palm against the side of her head in case any errant hairs had escaped the barrette. As she approached the glass doors, she hoped the maroon peasant blouse, tan capris and navy flats looked professional enough for a visit to the real estate development office. She pulled the handle.

Luke McGuire stood in the lobby, addressing his receptionist. He wore a gray suit, white shirt and an azure tie that matched his blue eyes. She froze as they both turned toward her.

Luke’s face fell. “Gabriella.”

She let the door close behind her, and the air-conditioning sent an involuntary shiver up her spine. His expression confirmed her suspicions—seeing her just reminded him of the pain they’d experienced.

He held out a hand, and as she reached for it, she glanced at the hand by his side—no ring. Maybe he still hadn’t gotten over his fiancée?

His brows furrowed. “I’m sorry to hear about your mom. I think I met her and your aunt once, at a parents’ weekend. I remember because you two almost looked like—”

“Twins,” she finished for him. Each time she looked in the mirror, the reminder of her loss hit her in the gut. Her throat fought against letting her words out. “She and my great-aunt came to every single one of those.”

Luke turned and waved a hand toward the back. “Why don’t we talk in my office?” He shortened his stride until she caught up. “Congratulations on the nonprofit, by the way. I saw you on the news last week when they announced their charity of the month.”

Her shoulders relaxed at the change of subject, and she couldn’t help but smile that Luke knew about the foundation she’d set up a few years back to help tutor struggling kids. “Oh. The grant took me by surprise. I didn’t know anything about it until we showed up on the news.”

She scrunched her nose. “I think they pulled my picture from the school staff website.” Gabriella stiffened. What if Luke thought she was fishing for compliments? She rushed on. “Financially it’s not a big grant, but the national media exposure is priceless. I’d be ecstatic, but—”

He nodded. “Of course. You’re going through a lot right now.”

Framed pictures of subdivision developments filled with cookie-cutter houses hung on the office walls. Her chest ached. Could she really go through with this?

As soon as he sat in his chair, she splayed the papers she’d brought with her across his desk. “I know you agreed to meet with me as a courtesy, but I really think the land has potential for one of the subdivisions you keep making.” She hated the tremble in her voice but worried if she stopped she’d break down. “I brought a copy of the property map and printed out the county assessment of—”

“I’m sorry, Gabriella. I actually have all that information already. I gathered it after you called.” Luke clasped his hands together. “I know it’s getting late, but if you have time, I need a look at the property in person before we can discuss potential scenarios. I could follow you out there now.”

“Wow. That’s fast. It’s good. It’s what I need. Just fast.” She nodded and continued nodding, processing his words. “I have time to show you around right now.”

Luke clapped his hands together and jumped from his chair. “Perfect. I just need a moment to gather my camera and some paperwork. I’ll be right behind you.”

Gabriella took the cue and headed straight for the door. Her embarrassment at babbling coupled with his kindness would be her undoing. Her eyes burned with held-back tears. The moment she opened the door, heat slapped her in the face.

She squinted against the intense sunshine as a black sedan drove past the office. Was that really a different one than she’d seen moments before? Was she going insane? It, too, had darkened windows.

If it’d been a Subaru Outback, she would’ve had an easier time believing the coincidence. Many Idaho residents depended on the all-wheel drive, practically a requirement to living in Idaho. But a black sedan? She had no proof it was following her, though. The next time she spotted it, she’d make an effort to get its license plate number so she’d know for sure.

A man in a silver suit and navy dress shirt rounded the corner of the office building, smiling. She grinned in response, slightly amused at his greased-back hair. She’d only seen hair like that on New York models and wondered if he worked as a partner or employee for Luke. She stepped off the sidewalk and clicked the fob to unlock her car as the man passed.

She opened the car door. As it swung open, the man stepped next to her passenger door and wrenched it open. She clutched her purse. “Excuse me. What are you—”

He pulled his suit jacket back, revealing a gun holstered to his side. “Get in, Gabriella.”

Gabriella’s heart slammed into overdrive, and yet, she couldn’t move. What did they say about people with guns? Never get in the car? Or, get in the car but drive into a building? She couldn’t blink. Her vision focused on the gun. And how did he know her name?

“Don’t be stupid. Look behind you.”

Gabriella moved her chin ever so slightly. There was no way she was turning her back to the gunman. She peeked over her shoulder. The source of her insanity—the black sedan—pulled into the parking lot.

“Now see? It’s not just me. And the guys in there aren’t as nice.” He stared at her with such intensity that she had to look away. “You wouldn’t want other people getting hurt, would you?” he asked. “Not when you could be saving your great-aunt.”

Despite the heat, everything turned cold. Gabriella’s skin chilled. “What about her?”

Another man in a suit stepped out of the back of the black sedan and approached. He smiled, a grin that made her skin crawl. He nodded at the other man and opened the rear door of her car. “If I were you, I’d do everything he tells you. I’m not as patient.”

“What’d I tell you?” the first gunman said. The men both laughed, sharing their own sick joke.

Gabriella’s stomach twisted. She should’ve followed her great-aunt’s advice and carried a gun or a brick in her purse. Even if she had, though, it’d be no match for the two men. And if they were telling the truth about Aunt Freddie being in danger, she couldn’t risk it.

The second man loosened his suit jacket, and she spotted his gun, as well. She tightened her fists. “Is my aunt in that sedan? What’d you do with her?”

The man across from her turned and looked toward Luke’s office. The sun bounced off the windows, so she couldn’t see inside. Please let Luke see something is wrong.

“Do you want to see her alive again?” the first gunman asked, his voice thick with a familiar accent she couldn’t place.

She opened her mouth, her breath so ragged she wasn’t sure she could answer if she tried. Aunt Freddie was her only living relative. It’d been hard enough to put her in assisted living last week—so hard Gabriella spent the past few nights sleeping on the couch at her new villa so Aunt Freddie wouldn’t be lonely.

I can’t lose her, too. Her gut dropped. The sedan following her the past few days...had she led them right to her aunt?

He smirked. “Get in and drive.”

* * *

Luke hit the side of the printer, frustrated after two jams and irritated the temporary receptionist hadn’t already finished the job. He didn’t begrudge Deb her maternity leave, but he also selfishly prayed she didn’t change her mind about coming back in six weeks. His sanity depended on it.

The motor whirred as the printer finally spit out his prize. He grabbed the paper, shoved it haphazardly into the leather satchel and strode for the door.

He hated keeping Gabriella waiting, especially since he had suggested the last-minute property tour. And since it was almost five o’clock already, he harbored hope she’d agree to have dinner afterward to catch up.

His mind replayed seeing her walk through his office door. She radiated a mixture of gentleness and beauty. And it made him angry with himself that he hadn’t kept in touch. He’d meant to.

When he first settled on the Treasure Valley to start his business, his parents had challenged his sanity. But the economy was booming, and it turned out to be a smart move financially. If he was honest with himself, in the back of his mind he’d assumed Gabriella would’ve settled in the area, too. Instead, she accepted a job in a small town in Eastern Oregon but spent summers in the valley. He knew she stayed with her family and worked with her foundation director anytime she had a break from teaching. Yet he’d never reached out, though he’d meant to before now.

Even now his heart sped up at the thought of her, but he knew why he procrastinated. He’d put himself out there once before—albeit almost a decade ago—and been burned. He wanted to diminish the risk of repeating the scenario.

Gabriella had seemed pleased about the grant and the media exposure. So pleased, he’d been tempted to let her know he owned the responsibility for making it happen. But he took the Bible passage seriously that exhorted believers to give in secret.

Luke turned to the receptionist. “As soon as you’re done with that file, you’re free to go. You’ll be paid for the full day. The door is set to lock behind you.” He pressed the glass door open as he threw on his designer shades, a smile plastering his face. He loved summer. He stepped out to an empty parking lot.

He always parked behind the office building along with his employees. The spaces in front were reserved for clients. He grabbed the glass door before it fully closed. “Karen?”

“Yes?”

“Did you see where my client went?”

“Oh. Yeah.” She picked at a piece of fuzz attached to her blouse. “She argued with some guy for a second, but then when she saw her friends coming, too, they like must have worked it out, ’cause they drove off together.”

Luke rubbed the throbbing spot above his brow. “Her friends?” It didn’t make sense. Gabriella was too considerate not to let him know she’d changed her plans. At least the girl he once knew would’ve been. Maybe she’d changed.

“Yeah, well I think so,” Karen muttered. “Two of them got in her car and the others followed them when they left.”

Luke’s shoulders sagged. An impromptu reunion? He shook his head. It didn’t add up. “Did she say anything when she left? Did she look upset?”

Karen lifted an eyebrow. “Well, yeah. Didn’t you say her mom just died?”

Luke blew out a long breath. He spun on his heel and headed for his truck. Maybe Gabriella had changed her mind about putting the property up for sale, but if that proved to be the case, he still wanted to show her how serious he was about being her friend. And who was the guy she argued and left with? The back of his neck tensed.

People changed over the years, sure, but Gabriella’s thoughtful nature defined her. Driving off without telling anyone didn’t ring true.

He entered Gabriella’s phone number and started his full-size Dodge Ram while it rang.

Four rings later it transferred to voice mail. Luke frowned. Something didn’t sit well. He didn’t want to be overly pushy, but he had also let Gabriella go once instead of being a true friend. He refused to make the same mistake twice. He shifted the truck into Drive and headed for Radcliffe Ranch.

TWO

Gabriella squeezed the steering wheel, but it didn’t tame the tremors. Her entire body shook at the sight of Aunt Freddie on the tablet.

The video showed her aunt asleep, wearing a quilted blue robe, in a strange recliner with another suited gunman sitting next to her. “What’d you do to her? Where’d you take her?”

“Keep your eyes on the road.” The man in her passenger seat clicked the tablet off. “She’s been given a strong sedative. Doesn’t even know that she went on a little field trip. And as long as you comply, she will be safe.”

One lone car drove past her. She stared out the window, her eyes wide, hoping the driver would somehow see something was wrong. She didn’t dare swerve, though, not with a madman watching her aunt sleep. “Who are you?”

The man grinned, sending shudders up her spine. “Benito.” He shrugged. “Of the Mirabella family.”

The way he said it...wasn’t that how people referred to the mafia? A crime family?

“We’re actually relatives,” he said. “I’m your mother’s second cousin.”

“Me, too, twice removed.” The man in the back chuckled. He sat in the middle, so that any time Gabriella looked in the rearview mirror she spotted his dark eyes, hard and void of compassion. She didn’t want to know his name. If she did, it would surely haunt her dreams.

Gabriella forced herself to breathe. Her mother’s cousins? It couldn’t be possible. Her mom had no living relatives.

“You look just like Renata, by the way.”

She turned to him, her mouth wide open. It was a mistake, a horrible mistake. She just needed to get them to see it. “You have the wrong person. I don’t know a Renata. And my aunt struggles with dementia so she’s no threat to you.” She turned her clicker on and steered toward the side of the road. She’d let them out, promise to never tell a soul. Maybe they’d leave her and her great-aunt alone. Please, Lord.

“Nice try,” the man named Benito said. “Stay straight, Gabriella. Your mother knew how to keep a secret. Impressive she kept it from her own daughter. Samantha was not your mother’s real name, just like Frederica is not your great-aunt’s name.”

She clenched her jaw. Every muscle tightened as she pressed on the gas and regained speed. “If you actually knew them, you’d know they never let anyone address them like that.”

“Ah, that’s right. Only Sam and Freddie.” He shook his head. “Very clever to use masculine names. If you hadn’t made national news, we’d likely never have found you.” He clucked his tongue in an annoying rhythm. “This ranch of yours is really in the middle of nowhere, isn’t it? Believe it or not, I’m sorry to hear your mother passed. Her real name was Renata Mirabella. Your great-aunt is Amalia Mirabella.”

Her stomach lurched. It had to be a lie and a dirty trick to make such accusations when her mother wasn’t alive to defend herself. Her eyes burned, and her throat hurt to swallow. “What do you want?”

“Your mother made herself very useful to the family back in the day. She grew up helping out. She was your grandpa and great-uncle’s favorite.”

The man in back scoffed. “Shows how poor their judgment was.”

Benito ignored him. “Eventually your mom handled the bookkeeping and served as a messenger between the bosses. Even snuggled up to the right people to help with some scores. After her father died, she disappeared, taking Uncle Claudio’s wife—your aunt—with her. But she left a note. Said she had enough evidence to send most of the family to the chair. Upon her death, it would be delivered to the FBI. So we didn’t chase her, on your great-uncle Claudio’s orders.”

Gabriella’s foot slipped off the gas. Her mom had worked for the mob? No. Not possible. She shook her head. “I don’t understand what it is you want from me.”

“It’s very simple. Get us the evidence, and we let you and your aunt go without consequence, out of respect for the family.” He sighed. “I had a great fondness for your mother.”

She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision as she turned down the long road that led to the ranch. She could see the wrought iron gates in front of the man-made lake. “You had a fondness for her? That’s why you’re holding her aunt hostage.” The sarcasm kept her from leaping out of her seat and punching Benito in his smug face.

“I understand your mother didn’t teach you the family business,” he answered, his voice steady, “but affection only goes so far. If a relative turns on us, we turn on them. We do what it takes to protect the family.” His chin jutted out. “Drive inside,” he said.

Her shaky finger moved to the clicker. Her sanctuary, her safe place—she didn’t want to let these crazy people in. The gate swung open as she turned in to the driveway. “But you don’t understand. Even if you don’t believe me that my mom never ran with the mafia, I’m telling you she didn’t leave behind anything but this property. No evidence, no money...nothing! You could search the house and—”

“We already did,” the gruff voice behind interrupted.

She inhaled sharply. What if she had slept at home the past week? What would they have done? She pulled her elbows in closer to her torso as she drove, wishing she could curl up in a ball, away from them.

“It’s a big property,” Benito said. “And your mom wouldn’t be one to trust banks. Besides, we’ve already checked.”

“So why kill ourselves trying to find it when you can do the work for us?” the man in back added.

“Even if you’re right, which I promise you’re not, why would you think the evidence hasn’t already gone to the FBI?” She looked in her rearview mirror. The black sedan stayed behind her down the mile-long driveway that meandered through the property until they reached the house.

“If the FBI had it already, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Our sources think your mom left it for you.” Benito winked. “Besides, we have connections. We would know if something was about to go down. But if that happened, it’d get...complicated for you and your aunt.”

Gabriella pulled to a stop in front of the house but hesitated to shift into Park. The man in the back leaned forward, and through the rearview mirror she could see the way he leered. She kept one foot on the brake and one foot on the gas, in case he moved to try anything. At the very least she could drive into the lake.

“You have twenty-four hours, more or less,” Benito said. “Depends on when the meds wear off on your auntie.”

She gaped. “You can’t be serious.”

He stepped one foot out of the vehicle. “And if you feel tempted to call the police, we have people ready at a moment’s notice to make sure your aunt never opens her eyes again.”

“I’m telling you my aunt is no threat to you!”

He shrugged, unfazed. “We’d also need to alert someone to the fact the sizable anonymous donation your little foundation accepted last week came from a lawyer known to have ties with the Mirabella family. You may not know it now, but your grandfather and great-uncle made our name quite famous.” He winked, left the car, straightened his jacket and bent down slightly. “We’ll be in touch in twenty-four hours. Goodbye, Gabriella.”

The man in the back stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She flinched and pressed herself against the window. He laughed and joined his boss in the sedan.

Her bones ached as if they’d been filled with cement. How could this be happening? The black sedan squeezed past her car and continued around the circular drive, past the lake. It disappeared behind the willow trees on its way back to the gate. A second later, a navy Dodge Ram pulled up behind her. At the sign of the shined wingtips, Gabriella shoved the car door open. “Luke, get down.”

His eyes widened, but he hunched over and looked around.

“Stay there.” Gabriella watched out the side window as she saw glimpses through the foliage of the black sedan nearing the gate. If they spotted Luke, there was no telling what they would do, and she didn’t want to find out.

The sedan didn’t seem to slow down, and since the house wasn’t visible from the road, maybe they were in the clear. She held her breath a moment longer until the vehicle disappeared from sight.

She exhaled and dropped her head. What was she going to do?

“Are you okay?” Luke bent down to look into her eyes.

Gabriella brushed the escaping tear away with the heel of her hand. “Relatively speaking.”

His eyes narrowed. “Who was in the black sedan?”

She shook her head.

“Did he threaten you?” His right hand rested on her shoulder. “Gabriella, what happened? You’re shaking and pale.”

She tried to force a smile. It was imperative he think things were normal so she could convince him to leave. “Thanks for the compliment.” The attempted joke fell flat, though, as her voice shook.

He narrowed his eyes. “Did someone hurt you?”

Gabriella looked forward and focused on the trees swaying in the breeze, but it only served to remind her of the ticking clock. Twenty-four hours left until they killed her great-aunt, and she had no idea where to begin.

Who could she call? The police? The FBI? Absolutely not. Her mother and aunt had told her a thousand times that for every ten good officers, a crooked one took a deal. And Benito’s offhanded comments seemed to corroborate the sentiment.

She moved to get out of the car. Luke stood to make room for her. He held out a hand to help her.

Normally, she’d wave it away, but as heavy as her bones felt, she accepted. The strength in his grip as he gently pulled her to standing bolstered her determination. She would not let those men hurt her great-aunt Freddie—the woman had been like a second mother to her.

“Luke, it’s not a good time to look at the property after all. I’m sorry I wasted your time. I’ll call you to reschedule?”

Luke didn’t flinch, and his hand didn’t move from her wrist. “This isn’t business. I’m here as a friend. My receptionist said you were arguing with that man before you left, and the black sedan followed you. What happened?”

The question caused her stomach to lurch as she remembered Benito’s callous compartmentalization between business and family—if he even was actual family. She scoffed at the thought.

Luke’s gaze dropped to her wrist. “Gabriella, your pulse is pounding against my hand.” His blue eyes met hers as he flashed a smile. “And I don’t think it’s because of me.” His expression sobered. “You either need to give me some hint of what’s going on so I know you’re safe or I’m calling the police and reporting that sedan for suspicious behavior.”

He frowned and shook his head. “I haven’t seen you look like this since...”

He didn’t need to say it aloud. She knew he remembered the night they were dumped by their fiancés. Betrayed by those they loved.

“There’s no need to call the police.” Gabriella tugged her hand away from his touch. She couldn’t think of an explanation that would keep him in the dark while he had a finger on the beat of her heart, but she also didn’t want to lie to him. That was a nonnegotiable. She would never lie, and up until now, she thought her mother never did either.

“I am safe,” she said. At the moment.

He tilted his head. “Gabriella?”

She melted when he said her name. “Yes?”

“Are you sure you’re ready to sell?”

Oh, no. He thought she wanted to change her mind. But if she got her aunt out of this horrible situation, she’d still need Luke’s help. She couldn’t afford for him to think she was backing out.

She inhaled. This needed to be fast. “My mom’s bank accounts didn’t even hold enough money to cover the funeral costs. The property, as you know, is massive. And even though the deed is free and clear, I cleaned out my savings to pay for the property taxes that were due. My great-aunt has nothing to pay for her assisted living costs after September. I have no choice but to sell.” Her eyes widened. “And I basically just told you I’m desperate.”

He closed his eyes and his chin dipped. “I see why you would think that, but I didn’t interpret it like that. I asked as your friend.” He sighed. “But, if this property suits my needs, I promise to offer you a fair price. And I insist you ask other developers for bids.”

“I came to you in the first place because I trust you.”

He frowned. “Then what’s the problem? Why’d you leave so fast if you hadn’t changed your mind?”

This was the Luke she remembered. He never accepted simple answers. He always pursued the reasons and motivations until it made sense to him. Once, he followed their theology professor around and around the room, asking questions. He should’ve been a reporter. “I received some bad news about my great-aunt, and I need to make some unforeseen...arrangements.”

He raised his left eyebrow. “Is this about the assisted living bills?”

She cringed. There he went, getting the wrong idea. She could see the pity in his eyes. “No. It’s a private matter.”

Luke crossed his arms across his chest, his strength evident as his biceps bulged against the suit jacket. “At least let me see you inside and make you a cup of tea. You look like you could faint.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he held out a hand. “You don’t need to tell me any more if you don’t want to, but I hope you know that I’m a great listener.”

Unbidden memories sprang to mind: sitting together on a stone bench on campus after they’d just found out about their fiancés, organizing board game tournaments in the commons, studying at the library, laughing at the movie playing in the park. “I remember,” she said softly.

If she argued against his kindness any more, he would dig in his heels. Luke was as determined and stubborn as he was thoughtful and kind—probably why he succeeded in his career. She shrugged. “I have no idea what’s in the pantry. I haven’t been sleeping here, just stopping in on mornings to grab clothes.”

She wanted to spend as little time as possible in the house. While it was not much easier to stay with her aunt in assisted living, coming home without her mother and aunt there proved too painful to endure.

He turned to face the front door. “We’ll figure something out.”

Luke looked up, gazing at the house her best friend from high school had once described as “a rich person’s idea of getting back to nature.” She agreed it made for an impressive sight. The luxury log cabin with tall windows and a brick foundation looked gorgeous in front of the backdrop of lakes, mountains and pine trees.

He led her to the front door. His arm shot out, blocking her path.

“What?” she asked. “What is it?”

“Did you lock the door when you left? It’s slightly ajar.” He pulled a phone from his pocket.

Her eyes darted to the door. She put a hand on his arm. “I’m sure you don’t need to call the police.” Benito said they’d already checked the house. But even if someone else had robbed all the contents, she wouldn’t call the police until she got her aunt back.

“Don’t you have a security system?”

It served as another reminder of a long list of things she couldn’t afford. “I shut it down last week when I wasn’t able to pay the bill.” She closed her eyes, replaying the events of the morning.

Could she remember locking the door behind her? “I was in such a rush this morning it’s possible this is my fault. Not to mention I’ve been operating in a fog the past few weeks.” She narrowed her eyes, trying to focus. “If you don’t fully press in the lever on the handle when you close the door, it bounces back open.”

His eyes widened. “Are you serious? You didn’t lock it?”

“I locked it from the inside. When I’m running behind I don’t usually lock the dead bolt. The gate locks, and we have barbed wire around the property.” She pulled out her phone. “Which reminds me, I should lock the gate now.”

She clicked in the access code, turned and squinted in order to see the gate’s remote response in action. At the first sight of movement she headed up the front steps. “Let’s get to that tea.”

The faster she could down a cuppa, the faster she could hustle Luke out the door and focus on finding a solution to save her aunt. She pressed open the door and stepped inside.

The chairs in the entryway were slashed, bits of stuffing covering the marbled flooring. Why’d they need to go to such lengths? Surely they didn’t expect to find something in the cushions of the chair. Had someone destroyed everything for the fun of it?

Luke’s hand tugged on her shoulder. “I’m calling the police.”

“I don’t think so.” A man dressed all in black strode around the corner. He lifted his right arm and aimed a gun at her chest. “We need to have a little chat.”

Gabriella gasped as Luke stepped in front of her, shielding her. Another mafia member? Why was he here if they’d already searched the house?

Gabriella stared at the man’s balding head, green eyes and five o’clock shadow. The gunman shook his weapon at Luke. “Get out of the way.”

“I will not,” Luke said.

While touched by his chivalry, she knew Luke would only escalate the problem. Gabriella’s hand pressed into his back as her chin poked around his arm. “I thought I had twenty-four hours.”

Luke’s back stiffened under her fingertips. She’d let the cat out of the bag now. He knew she was keeping something from him.

Uncertainty crossed the gunman’s features, but he blinked it away. “The timeline’s been moved up,” he said.

Her gut churned. If he wasn’t on the same page as Benito, why was he here?

“Take what you want and leave,” Luke said.

He scoffed. “I don’t want your garbage.” His eyes drifted to Gabriella. “I think she knows what I want.”

So he was part of the mafia, then. Gabriella’s throat tightened. “Benito didn’t mention you.”

He sneered. “Of course not. He’s a punk with no manners. I’m Rodrigo Valenti. I worked for your uncle for years.”

“As I told Benito, I never even met this so-called uncle.”

He shrugged. “But your mama did. I heard all about it from your uncle before he passed.”

All the talk of supposed relatives made her mad enough to almost forget about the gun. Almost. “Despite whatever you may have heard, I have no idea where this supposed evidence is. There’s been a mistake. Mistaken identity. You have the wrong family.”

He acted as though he didn’t hear her. “I worked for your uncle Claudio for years, may he rest in peace, and he would’ve wanted you to give me the evidence instead of Benito.”

Luke glanced at her over his shoulder, wide-eyed. She didn’t know what to say. How had she ended up in the middle of what looked to be a mafia feud?

She pursed her lips, ready to launch into another rant about it all being a mistake and how she couldn’t care less about some mysterious, fake uncle. But after two tries, she knew it’d do no good, and if she wanted to keep Luke safe, she might as well placate them. “Why would he have wanted me to give it to you?”

He waved his gun. “So I don’t have to kill you.”

THREE

Luke looked between the gunman and Gabriella, trying to make sense out of the situation. He clenched his fists and took a small step backward, trying to push Gabriella back outside, farther away from the gunman.

She worked against him, shoving herself forward so she was next to him instead of behind him. “Listen, please,” she said. “Whoever gave you the idea my mother was involved in the mafia was way off. I...I can prove it. Let me find the deed. She inherited this land—no relation to any Mirabella family member.”

Luke did a double take at the word mafia, but Gabriella avoided his gaze. This Rodrigo guy thought her mom had been part of the Mirabella mafia? That was absurd. They lived in a state with more cattle than people. Gabriella had the spunk, the dramatic flair and the Italian beauty associated with the famous crime syndicate, but she’d attended a Christian college and exhibited too much grace and kindness to ever—

She threw her hands up in the air. “And my mom worked in the sand and gravel mining business her entire life...in Idaho. That’s the opposite of this mafia lady everyone keeps saying I look like. End of story.”

Gabriella clasped her hands together. Her eyes glistened. “I told you exactly what I told Benito. You have the wrong person. I’m a Radcliffe, my mother was a Radcliffe and this is called Radcliffe Ranch. You can take anything you want in this house. Just go. Please go.”

Rodrigo tilted his head as if considering her offer. “Twenty-four hours is too long. Forget Benito. New plan: you have twelve hours to get me the evidence.”

Rodrigo stepped closer. Luke tensed his entire body so he’d be ready to knock away the gun if he got close enough.

“I wouldn’t know where to start.” Gabriella’s voice cracked on the last syllable. “I have no idea what or where it would be.” Her voice strengthened and rose in pitch. Luke wanted to pull her into his arms. This was too much. As if she didn’t have enough grief and stress in her life, this man was trying to add more with his ridiculous mafia claim. No wonder Gabriella looked like death warmed over.

Rodrigo cackled. “Renata was a wily one, I’ll give her that. She was your uncle’s favorite until she disappeared.” Rodrigo’s cold stare moved Luke’s way. His grin twisted as he pointed the gun toward Luke’s forehead. “I don’t need you.”

The center of Luke’s stomach turned to solid ice.

Gabriella threw her arms across his torso. “He knows this property. I’ve walked the land, but he’s studied it. He’s an expert, and he’d know possible hiding places I might not think of...and vice versa.”

Rodrigo’s lips pressed together in a thin line, but his gaze never wavered. Luke wasn’t about to let him win the staring contest, even though the cavernous room with vaulted ceilings was sure to be echoing his loud heartbeat.

Rodrigo waved the gun toward the door. “I want a tour of the property. Now. But first, drop your keys and phones.”

Luke exhaled and tossed his phone on the closest bunch of ripped padding in hopes it wouldn’t break. If they could lose the creep somewhere on the property, they could get back to the house and call the police.

Gabriella was more graceful, bending down and setting the phone right in front of her feet. Surely she wasn’t going to try to get Rodrigo close enough to take him out? Luke tried to get her attention by bending his head down with wide eyes. She just glanced at him and shrugged.

Heat rushed to his legs. He wasn’t about to let Gabriella make the first move. He shifted his feet, ready to pounce if Rodrigo got too close.

“Slide it over, princess.”

Gabriella pressed her lips together as she kicked the phone in Rodrigo’s direction. So much for that plan.

Rodrigo put the keys in his pocket and picked up the phones as well. “Lead the way.”

The moment they stepped onto the driveway, their phones soared above their heads and landed with a plop in the lake.

There went three hundred bucks. He knew he should’ve waited before upgrading.

“Take me to your mom’s favorite spots,” Rodrigo growled.

Gabriella made a sharp turn to the right, her flats slapping on the concrete and her hands in fists. Luke matched his step with hers.

“I should’ve gone with my gut and called the police while I had a chance,” Luke whispered. “Any landline or other cell phone inside?”

“No. And calling the police isn’t an option.”

Luke put a hand on her arm. “Care to fill me in?”

She kept her face forward as she spoke. “Those men you saw me with earlier—in the driveway—are from the mafia, as well. They’ve got my aunt Freddie and will kill her if I don’t get them this mysterious evidence.”

“The same evidence Rodrigo wants?”

She nodded. “He acts like he’s in the same group as them, but he clearly doesn’t know or care about my aunt. We have to get away from him.”

Luke replayed the events of the past few minutes. Ah, it had to be the reason for her careful wording: I received some bad news about my great-aunt. Rodrigo was still far enough away he wouldn’t be able to hear his whispers. “The police are more capable of saving her than you are.”

Her dark eyes flashed. “The police can’t get involved. You can’t trust them.”

“Says who?” Luke frowned. His own mother had been a police detective before she retired, and he’d trust her with his life. Okay, so maybe he was a little biased.

“Too much corruption. I was taught never—” Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s not normal, is it? At school they want us to tell the kids to find an officer when they’re in danger. It would be just like a mafia family to teach you not to trust law enforcement.” She shook her head as if flinging the thoughts away. “Still, not worth the risk. Benito said he had connections. He said he’d know. Besides, it’s a moot point.”

“You better be talking about possible places for my evidence,” Rodrigo barked. “Otherwise, shut your yaps.”

Rodrigo was ten paces behind them, looking around but keeping the gun trained on Luke’s back.

Luke reached for Gabriella’s hand and squeezed it. “Thanks for selling my worth back there.”

Her eyes widened. “I meant every word. You said you did your homework on this property, and I need all the help I can get to stay alive...and somehow save my aunt.”

Luke tried to picture the topographical map he’d studied that morning. “That’s a tall order.”

“We have to get away from Rodrigo. Benito will kill my aunt in twenty-four hours if I don’t cooperate. I can’t waste a single minute.” She kicked at a pebble and watched it soar across the lush grass. “Who knew a math-tutoring program would bring mobsters to my door?” She laughed, but it came out garbled like a choked cry.

A heavy weight settled in the pit of Luke’s stomach. “Wh-what do you mean, your program brought them to your door?”

“The national attention from the media...my picture. That’s how these men said they found me.”

Luke’s insides turned to lava. This was his fault? He tried to do something nice for her, and instead he’d brought danger to her doorstep? “Uh, Gabriella—”

“I want some answers,” Rodrigo shouted.

“My mom liked to walk around the lake,” she said loudly. “Maybe we’ll see something on the beach portion.”

Rodrigo grunted and jutted his chin out as a sign to continue.

“You have almost two hundred acres,” Luke said.

“Yes, but water accounts for more than half of it. We’ve got the lake and three tributaries.”

“Basically an urban island, I’m aware. Do you know how long it would take to check out all the land on foot? He’s asking us to go on a wild-goose chase—” he stepped over a spattering of goose droppings “—of which the property clearly has no shortage. But you get my point.”

Her head dropped. “I...I can’t think of a single spot that would be obvious as a place she’d hide something, let alone a place for evidence. They think she would’ve kept it close to her.”

Rodrigo seemed to have no trouble letting them talk as long as they were discussing the property.

“He said he already searched the house.” Gabriella lowered her voice. “But she kept a gun and a journal in her nightstand. Those have to help us.”

Luke didn’t think finding a journal was a high priority, but he didn’t want to argue with Gabriella in this state. The gun was worth going after, and their only hope. “So we’re agreed the first thing we do is get away from this guy and get back to the house.”

She didn’t reply, but Luke took that as agreement. He’d noticed when he pulled up in the driveway that there was a second driveway leading to the back of the house where a shed was built. A shed usually meant tools.

Luke waved toward the lake that wrapped around the south and west sides of the house—providing an almost three-hundred-degree view. The steady breeze sloshed miniature waves up on the shore. “You said it was a man-made lake. Did your mother have it built?” Luke stopped for a moment, allowing Rodrigo to catch up enough to hear his words.

Gabriella squinted. “Yes. She mined the whole property for sand and gravel, then had it built back up to create the water features.”

Rodrigo’s forehead wrinkled, but he said nothing.

Luke addressed him. “What are you going to do if it turns out her mom buried something underneath this lake? Or one of the creeks?”

“Just keep walking,” Rodrigo spat back, but his eyes were on the lake.

Luke tried to keep his smug grin to himself. He’d accomplished his mission to get the guy thinking and worrying over something so he’d be less focused. Luke put a hand on his chest and made a small gesture with his thumb for only Gabriella to see. “Let’s make a sharp turn there,” he whispered, “and make a run for it.”

Her eyes widened. “But he has a gun.”

Luke glanced over his shoulder and gauged the man’s fitness level. His sizeable mass meant he probably didn’t have endurance but could very likely have speed. “Then we pick up the pace. We’ll have two...maybe three seconds at most. I’ll get behind the shed and try to knock the gun out of his hands when he passes. Go in front of me. There’s a back door, right?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t wait for me. Don’t turn back. Go past the shed and get inside the house.” Luke figured this was their best and only shot at getting the gun away from the man. If they walked any further they’d start dealing with uneven terrain and little to no shelter from Rodrigo.

If he succeeded, he’d get his keys back and haul him straight to the police.

Her face paled, but she did pick up the speed ever so slightly. Luke inhaled, and one of his mother’s favorite phrases came to mind. Remember: bravery is just doing what’s right even when it’s scary or hard. Luke hoped the line between bravery and foolishness wasn’t too thin.

Gabriella reached the corner and launched off her back foot into a sprint. She’d taken off too soon. Luke winced and glanced back. She was supposed to have waited until she rounded the corner.

Rodrigo raised his gun. “Hey!”

Luke dashed to the shed—Gabriella had already passed—and grabbed a shovel leaning up against the open door. Rodrigo rounded the corner. Luke flipped the shovel in a high arc, aiming for the gun. Except Rodrigo pointed the weapon, moving his arm. The metal blade hit Rodrigo’s elbow. He howled, and the gun flew backward.

Rodrigo spun and took off after the gun.

“Luke!”

He turned to the sound of Gabriella’s voice. She beckoned him. He ran toward her. There was no way he could beat or overcome Rodrigo’s bulk. “Go!” He didn’t want Gabriella waiting for him. Instead of running toward the back door of the house, she ran in the opposite direction onto a small wooden pier.

“Trust me,” she hollered. Her arms stretched above her head as she pushed off from the dock and disappeared into the water below.

Crack!

Luke covered his head with his hands, but his legs pressed harder and faster forward. He leapt off the pier where he thought he’d seen Gabriella dive. He hoped it was deep enough. As he sliced through the water, a searing hot pain ripped through his thigh.

FOUR

Gabriella’s lungs burned as she did her best to stay at the bottom of the lake. As an only child she’d developed some unusual skills with all the time alone. She had, for instance, challenged herself to hold her breath for as long as possible every summer.

Her personal best was three minutes, though she’d never imagined it to be useful.

A strong current shoved the hair in front of her face. It had to be Luke. She kicked, swimming forward, until her fingertips touched fabric. While it was hard to see him through the murky water, his limbs flailed. His right arm bumped into her shoulder with a force that almost made her gasp.

Was he drowning? If he panicked, he could take her down with him. She grabbed the back of his suit jacket. It allowed her to stay far enough away he couldn’t smack her as she tugged. She needed to breathe!

She tugged again, and he stopped fighting her. Her chest seized. She wasn’t going to last much longer. The sunlight disappeared. With a final strong kick, she lifted her chin and took a hungry breath underneath the pier. Her heart pounded in her throat. Her temples throbbed.

The slightest light between the slats of decking highlighted the eight inches that separated the underside of the dock and the lapping water. Her nose almost touched the wood as she sucked in another breath. Luke’s head popped up so forcefully his forehead hit the wood.

Please don’t let Rodrigo have heard that.

He hacked, coughed and greedily gasped before hacking some more. Gabriella cringed. She straightened. Her toes dragged against the sand. “Try to stand up,” she whispered. “It’s not as deep here. I’m not tall enough, but I imagine you are. Lift your hands up to help you breathe.”

He coughed up more water. He reached up and grasped the space between the planks with the fingertips of his right hand.

Water poured in several streams from the sleeve of his suit. She needed to get that off him. Gabriella tugged on his left arm. His eyes met hers, and he twisted around, apparently understanding her motive. His breathing grew regular once she’d freed him.

She balled up the fabric in her hand. Slapping feet vibrated the planks. Her heart rate sped as Luke stilled. Gabriella glided next to him. She pressed her cheek against his cold, wet skin and whispered directly into his ear, “Stay here.”

He nodded and muffled his coughing into his elbow. Gabriella hated to go underwater again. Her lungs still hurt, and the strong fish smell wafting off the water didn’t help matters.

She expanded her rib cage as wide as it could go, then sank down low. Her toes pushed off from the sand as she used the dolphin kick to move as far away as her breath would allow. She dove down as close to the bottom as possible, dropped the suit jacket, spun around and kicked hard, back to the deck.

Two seconds later, muffled gunshots pierced the water. Even though she knew she was likely far enough to be safe, each one still gave her a jolt. She kept her hands out in front of her until she saw the lighted pattern from the slats.

Before her head was fully out of the water she inhaled deeply. The pounding overhead retreated. Her trick had worked. Rodrigo thought Luke had shed his jacket and was swimming away. Or dead after the shots. But since he wouldn’t see a body floating, he’d likely think they were still alive and trying to escape the property.

She could hear him running away. Thank You, Lord.

Ten feet away, Luke had his arms wrapped around a pole that led to the lake floor. She used the breaststroke to join him.

“That was good thinking.” He kept his voice low and moved his lips close to her hair. “I don’t think he believed you that I was that valuable. Notice he didn’t shoot at you.”

“I wasn’t the one who hit him with a shovel.” She pressed the wet hair away from her face. “Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t shoot me now. Surely he gets the point. We don’t know where the evidence is. Let’s just pray he moves on.”

Luke shivered, his teeth chattering. “Were you hoping to wait him out under here?”

“Not for long. The reeds are all along the water’s edge. We can use it as camouflage to get back to the house. Are you okay? Are you able to swim and follow me?”

“I think so. I can’t get a good look at where he shot me, but I’ll do my best to keep up.”

Her jaw dropped. “He shot you? Are you okay? Where?”

“In the leg. I can still move it, though, so maybe it’s just a graze.”

“Or adrenaline.” She closed her eyes. All she wanted was to get him away from danger, not make things worse. “I’m so sorry, Luke. I just reacted without thinking. I knew the farther we got away from him the less accurate his shot would be but—”

“You were trying to get away from the shooter. I get it. Why the change of plan, though? Why not go into the house?”

“No keys, remember? The back door was locked. Ironic, right?” The waves grew bigger and slapped against the pole. Her ears perked. She held up one finger to her mouth. Had Rodrigo hopped in?

She needed to stick to the plan and get Luke’s wound treated as soon as possible. “Can you keep your hand on your wound? I don’t know how much good it would do but we don’t know how much blood you’re losing.”

Thankfully she’d spent every single summer swimming this lake and could visualize the layout with her eyes closed. She’d even dreamed about it during the long winters.

Gabriella pressed off from the pole and glided to the next one six feet away. She beckoned Luke to follow. He tried to swim toward her while keeping his hand on his leg. His uncoordinated movements made a few waves that splashed against the other poles. Gabriella tensed and listened for signs Rodrigo had heard him. The wind produced ripples across the surface. Please let him think it’s just the wind.

The intensity of swimming underwater waned and as her heart rate slowed, the chill of the early summer waters produced goose bumps up and down her arms. She clenched her jaw and repeated the floating technique.

The reeds began at the end of the dock. It was the perfect place to catch bass—the lake was stocked with both bass and rainbow trout—and though it made a good hiding place, it would be uncomfortable. They’d have better agility if they kicked off their shoes, but they’d likely need the protection when navigating the woody, prickly plants. She hated to think of just how many fishing hooks she’d lost over the years within those reeds. They hid there, lurking, waiting to poke them.

She placed her palm on top of the water and waited for Luke to accept her hand. Together they slipped into the first bunch of reeds, careful to keep their bodies submerged.

The sensation was akin to hiding in a wet hay bale—not that she’d ever done that—and she just wanted out as soon as possible. Something slimy slipped past her arm. She released a silent squeal as she squirmed closer to Luke.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Hoping that was a fish,” she whispered. “Do you see Rodrigo?”

Luke pointed to the west. “He’s running alongside the lake, toward the willow trees.”

“Good. He probably thinks he’s going to cut us off before we get to the gate.”

“Agreed, but if we’re not careful he’ll still see us. We’ll need to take it slow.” Luke lifted his hand to wipe his hair away from his face, but he froze when he saw the blood on his palm.

His face paled, and he plunged his hand back into the water to apply pressure to his leg.

Taking it slow meant less risk of Rodrigo spotting them, but Gabriella couldn’t afford that luxury. The summer sun didn’t dip below the horizon until ten o’clock in June, but her rumbling stomach told her it was already past dinner. Her chance to save her aunt and Luke was slipping away.

They wordlessly swam together, their heads just above water, uncomfortably close to the border of the reeds lest they needed to hide at a moment’s notice. Swimming proved more difficult in her clothes. Her shirt kept catching on the woody stems.

The lake wrapped around the house, so Gabriella figured they could get as close to the front door as possible before leaving their hiding place. Luke’s teeth finally stopped chattering, either from the exercise or from going into shock. Either way, she wanted to get him inside as fast as possible. She barely registered the cacophony of nature around her. The toads croaking, the crickets in the distance...

In the sunlight, she really wanted a chance to look at Luke’s wound but knew that would make them more vulnerable to being seen.

“You keep looking at me like that, you’re going to give me a complex,” he muttered.

Gabriella smiled. “I wanted some heads up if you were going to pass out on me.”

He shrugged. “I’m made of tougher stuff than that.” His eyes widened, and he grabbed her shoulder. She froze as something glided out of the reeds. Her breath caught. With two beady eyes and an open mouth swinging side to side, the snake’s long body slithered mere inches in front of her face. A bright white line on top made it impossible to stay still. Poisonous snakes usually had stripes and colors. She kicked backward into Luke’s chest.

“It’s just a garter snake,” he whispered.

Gabriella’s heart didn’t seem to register his reassurance because it continued to speed up. “Are you sure? I thought those were supposed to be small. This one is like four feet long.”

“I’m positive. Your property must feed it well.”

A moment later they’d reached the shore nearest to the driveway. “I’ll keep a watch out while you climb out. If you go right between our cars and stay low, we should be safe from view. Theoretically.”

Luke frowned. “I think you should go first.”

“No offense, but you are injured and likely to take longer to get out.”

His blue eyes locked on hers but she couldn’t begin to imagine what he was thinking.

“Then we go together,” he said.

“Fine.” It actually made more sense since she could help him out. The muddy climb proved challenging. She fell to her knees twice, and dirt slipped underneath her fingernails. “This is the reason there’s a ladder attached to the dock in the back.” Streams of water poured off her blouse and her stringy hair as she tugged on Luke. Her left foot slipped, and she fell back into the grass, the breath knocked out of her.

Luke fell to his knees. “Maybe we should crawl.”

She took a shuddering breath, her lungs refilling. She scanned the property for Rodrigo. So far no sign, but it’d be far easier for him to see them from the trees without them spotting him. Her temples throbbed. She did as Luke suggested and turned to crawl.

The moment her fingers touched asphalt, she got to her feet but crouched down. That’s when she saw it—the rip, the gash and the blood dripping from Luke’s pants. All that time in the lake and brushing up against the reeds likely increased the chance of infection, as well.

Luke’s face paled as he followed her gaze. “Not good with blood,” he croaked and fell to his knees.

FIVE

“Luke!” She put both hands on his face. The contact grounded her, gave her a new focus. “Keep looking up. Don’t you dare pass out on me.”

He blinked in reply.

“Just keep moving.” She darted past the vehicles and to the door. She peered at the thick grove of trees to her right. Her eyesight wasn’t the best with long distances, so it didn’t mean he wasn’t watching.

Luke hobbled, bent over until he reached the stoop. The door remained ajar from their last exit at gunpoint. It swung inward to the same mess as before, except now they created puddles all over the marble and clumps of batting all over the floor. She closed the door behind him. “Be careful. The marble gets slippery when wet.”

“Make sure you lock it.”

“Uh...okay,” she answered and clicked the dead bolt. “You do know he has my keys though, right?”

His lips sloped into a half grin. “I’ve been shot.”

“So take it easy on you, got it.” She picked up his left hand and draped it over her shoulder while placing her right arm around his back.

“I appreciate what you’re doing, but it’s not necessary.”

Gabriella dropped his arm and stepped to the side. “Right.” She didn’t miss the sensation of his arm pressed onto her already sticky, wet clothes. Still, she wondered if he was trying to give her a signal not to get close. Because even macho men who were shot took help when they needed it, right? Of course she wouldn’t know. She hadn’t grown up with a man in her life.

Gabriella took the curved staircase two steps at a time until she reached the top. She stopped abruptly to check on Luke when he bumped into her back. She looked over her shoulder. “Sorry. I didn’t think you could keep up with me.”

His face paled and his eyes widened as he tipped backward.

“No!” Her fingers grabbed his dress shirt as she threw her body weight in the opposite direction in hopes he didn’t take her down with him.

He grabbed the banister and regained his balance. “Sorry. I got dizzy.”

“You’ve probably lost more blood than we realized.” Her stomach twisted at the thought. First aid had never been her strong suit. As a teacher she carried the required certifications, but it was a lot easier to perform on a dummy than a real live person.

If Luke passed out or worse, she had no idea what she would do.

* * *

Luke followed Gabriella into a posh master bedroom. The sheets and drawers thrown on the ground proved it’d been ransacked. The room held a king-size bed with a matching armoire, end tables and desk. Even with all the furniture, it still left ample room for the entertainment center and a high-end treadmill. The bedroom alone looked to take up a third of the upstairs floor. If his leg wasn’t throbbing, he’d have whistled.

Gabriella groaned. “No, no, no.” She ran to the nightstand and sorted through the drawers. “He took it. He took my mom’s gun.” She straightened with a leather-bound book in her hands. Her eyes wild, her hair matted, she stared at him. “Luke, I had no idea, but I should’ve known. I’m not thinking straight.”

“It’s hard to think straight when your life is in danger.” He should know. He’d already demonstrated that more than once in the past thirty minutes.

She shook her head. “I’ve gotten us into an even worse situation. We have no weapon to help us get out of here.”

A slam punctuated the end of her sentence. They had company. A holler from below followed by a thump and a bellow of rage tempted Luke to walk back out into the hallway to see what was going on.

Gabriella crossed the room and grabbed his arm. “I told you that marble is slippery when wet.” She gestured with her head. “Get into the closet.”

“The closet?”

“I know you’re in here!” A shot rang out, and Luke jumped back two feet. A hole appeared in the drywall one inch from the doorjamb.

“Now.” Gabriella gave him a shove and they stepped into what he assumed was her mother’s walk-in closet. She grunted as she closed the door and clicked the top dead bolt. Two more dead bolts—one in the middle and one near the ground—also needed to be flipped. Dead bolts in the closet?

“Get the other door, Luke.”

On the opposite side of the closet was an open doorway attached to a lavender room complete with a queen-size bed underneath a floral canopy. Luke worked to close the door. The outside layer looked like normal wood, but the cool feel and heft meant it had to be metal. He engaged the three dead bolts then stood, hands on his hips. His leg progressed from a sore pounding to a sharp stinging.

“It connected to my room,” she explained.

He gritted his teeth. It’d do no good to complain about the pain. “I hate to break it to you, but this isn’t the best hiding place.” He hobbled into the adjoining bathroom. Odd. The only door to the bathroom was inside the closet. The inside walls looked like white metal. “There’s no window in here.” He turned to Gabriella. Great. A madman outside and no means of escape. “We’re trapped.”

A small current of cold air rushed past his face. The air-conditioning had kicked on. Gabriella crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. “I know. It’s a safe room. I didn’t want to be responsible for you getting shot a second time.”

He’d heard safe rooms were becoming more common, but he’d never been in one so ample—although not counting the bathroom, at only ten foot by ten foot in size it wouldn’t take long to feel claustrophobic. “Is there a phone? Surveillance cameras?”

Her head dropped, and her damp hair fell in ringlets across her shoulders. “No. I already told you. Only cell phones. We used to have surveillance—” she pointed to a small tablet on top of the dresser “—but that was part of the alarm service, and they took back their cameras when I had to cancel.” She turned away from him and placed a hand on the white door. “At least—”

Crack!

Gabriella screamed and stepped back into his arms. Her knees buckled, and Luke strained to hold her up until she regained her balance. He squinted at the pointed bulge in the door. That had been too close for comfort.

Gabriella rubbed the spot underneath her collarbone where it would’ve hit had it gone through. Luke’s stomach churned at the thought. He kept a hand on her back as they stared at the bulge.

“My mom told me she made this room for tornadoes.”

His heart pounded against his chest. The only sounds in the room were his heart and ragged breathing. Three more cracks and three more bulges appeared in the door. He flinched at each one. Gabriella’s back pressed against his chest. He placed his hands on her arms and finally exhaled, not realizing he’d unintentionally held his breath. “Tornadoes are rare in Idaho.”

She lifted her face up, toward him. “I know. I realized it in high school. I thought she was my overprotective mom. I never imagined—” Her voice broke and she stepped away from his support.

Another coughing spell hit him. His lungs still burned from inhaling the lake water after the bullet hit him. He glanced down at the wound. Blood wasn’t gushing, but it still needed to be addressed. He turned his eyes back to the ceiling in hopes there wouldn’t be a return of the dizziness that claimed him the last time he saw the wound.

Gabriella followed his gaze. “I’m glad Mom attached a bathroom. There used to be a first-aid kit somewhere.”

Luke followed her into the spacious bathroom.

She handed him a red canvas bag from inside the bathroom closet. “At least we know the walls will hold for a little bit. Until we figure something out.” She pulled out a thick terry-cloth towel and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Wait a second.” She darted into the closet and returned with a stack of jeans and a flannel shirt. “My mom bought baggy men’s clothes for when she had to supervise the gravel pits. I don’t know if any of these will fit you but—”

Luke eagerly accepted the clothes. “We can always hope.” He lifted his chin. “A minute ago you were holding a book. What was it?”

“Mom’s diary.” She turned around, looking at the floor. “I’m pretty sure I dropped it the moment we stepped in the closet. There it is.” She raised her fingers to her temples and pressed. “I’ll close this door and give you some privacy. I’m sorry I got you into this whole mess, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad you were here.”

“You couldn’t make me leave your side if you tried.” He meant it, but his words triggered the memory of their previous conversation. He needed to tell her he was behind the media spotlight. He was responsible for this mess, not her.

Would she ever be able to look at him again if she knew it was his fault these men had found her? But as the water and blood dripped on her bathroom floor, it probably wasn’t the best time to share that information.

“I’ll hurry,” he said. “You start going through the diary. We may be safe, but we’re also trapped. We need to figure out how to escape before Rodrigo gets any bright ideas.”

* * *

Four more muffled gunshots produced bulges on the steel door leading to her childhood bedroom. Gabriella screeched and pressed herself up against the bathroom door.

“You okay?” Luke hollered.

“I’ll be better after he gives up.” She blew out a long breath and tried to relax her muscles, but they refused to release the contraction, most likely because she couldn’t stop shivering from the cold. She held her breath, listening. Rodrigo was either gathering more bullets or thinking up a new plan. The smell of cedar and mothballs permeated the room now that the doors were closed. If they decided to try to make a run for it, she would at the very least like dry clothes.

She crossed the room and stood in front of the dresser. The drawers stuck out slightly. The mafia men must have gone through them as well. Was there nothing of her mother’s that they hadn’t manhandled? She rubbed her hands together. Her throat throbbed with the strain it took to keep the tears at bay. She could do this.

Gabriella reached out tentative fingers and pulled out the top drawer. Her mother’s shirts. She pulled out one and pressed it up against her face. The scent of flowers simultaneously soothed her and made her eyes burn.

Her mother loved the vanilla-and-lavender fabric softener, but Gabriella feared she’d never be able to use it without thinking of her.

She opened her eyes and spotted a gold paper box still sealed up in cellophane—her mother’s favorite brand of dark chocolate caramels. Gabriella remembered sneaking into the closet—her mom insisted on keeping the doors open—during a few late nights as a child to snitch a caramel before diving back in bed with a flashlight and a book. Her mother always knew, though. It was easy to count the chocolates. As if on autopilot, Gabriella unwrapped and stuck a chocolate in her mouth.

The door behind her slid open. “What are you doing?” He stepped out in a light-blue-and-navy striped flannel shirt and carpenter jeans that looked too tight. At least they were dry, though.

“Stress eating,” she mumbled and popped another one in her mouth.

He raised his eyebrows and reached out for one. “Oh. Dark chocolate.”

“The only good kind,” she muttered and replaced the box lid. “Were you able to patch yourself up?”

He moved to the rod and shoved the hanging clothes apart. “Getting dry helped a lot and I found Steri-Strips. It’ll have to do.” He placed his hand on the back of the closet and glided his hand across the wooden surface.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for an exit, or panel for a phone, or something that will help us out! Your mom went to the trouble of making this safe room because she feared something might happen.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “At least we know she picked one paneled with Kevlar.”

Gabriella rifled through the dresser and pulled out a green cotton blouse. “She used to have an alarm security system. I’m not sure she thought she’d have to get out of here without help.” She pointed to the red button above the top shelf. “I had no idea her neurotic overprotective nature was justified.”

She dropped to her knees and pulled out the lower drawer. Her mom used to keep her “skinny days” clothes at the bottom. Gabriella pulled out the acid-washed denim. “You know, I don’t even know how to think of her anymore—was she Samantha or Renata?”

Luke stilled. “She was your mom. For now, that’s all that matters.”

“I know that,” she snapped and instantly regretted it. The back of her neck heated. “Sorry.” She bit her lip and stood. “Find us a way out while I change.” She closed the bathroom door behind her. She didn’t want to think about her mother any longer. Her ribs literally hurt, as if they couldn’t handle the concave hole in her heart. She needed to focus on a way out. She hastily changed. It was a relief to have warm and dry fabric on again.

She opened the door to find Luke with her mother’s diary. He held it out. “I think we need to start reading. It’s possible she had some backup scenarios already planned if the mafia ever came looking for her...for you. If it’s too painful for you, then I can read it aloud.”

Gabriella’s fingers touched the smooth leather. “No, I will.”

A high-pitched squeal, though stifled, sent a chill up her spine. “Luke?”

“I hear it.” She held her breath as they listened together. A horrible grinding noise seeped through the walls and abruptly stopped. “I think he’s trying to drill through the doors,” he whispered. “These walls are so thick, though, it’d take him hours. Sounds to me like he drilled at high speed and snapped the bit. To drill through metal you need to go at a low speed.”

She could feel her eyes widen. “I’ll read fast.”

“And I’ll keep looking for an escape.”

She sank to the ground, taking care not to sit on a previous wet spot. The whir of the drill started again.

“What kind of tools did your mom own?” Luke asked. “What are we dealing with?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to think about it. It’s hard enough to focus on reading my mom’s journal without reminders that we’re really not safe in the safe room.”

His lips formed a grim line. “Understood.”

That feeling she remembered from college returned. Peace, even if temporary, relaxed her shoulders. Luke had a way of making her feel like she was acting reasonable, even when logically she knew she wasn’t. He listened...he empathized. He made her feel calm despite the storm surrounding her. “Thank you,” she said. “If I remember anything, I’ll say.”

He gave her an encouraging grin. She opened to the first page. Her mother’s familiar script lined the pages.

I’m so hopeful to give this baby the life she deserves. At church today they read a Bible verse in Philippians about forgetting about the past and pressing on. There was more to it, but just the reminder that I can leave my past behind and focus on my future as a mom gives me hope. Maybe I can be the woman—the mom—God desires me to be, even though if you’d asked me a year ago I would’ve thought it impossible.

Gabriella’s fingers drifted across the page. “I’ve read this before.”

“You have?” Luke lifted his arms while raised on his tiptoes and grabbed a plastic storage container. He lowered it to the ground and faced her. A sudden high-pitched growl erupted from the other side of the wall. His eyes widened. “I can’t imagine how loud that had to be out there if we can hear it through the steel.”

“Another broken drill bit?”

“That’d be my guess.” He dropped to a knee and flipped the latches holding the top of the container down. “You’ve read your mother’s diary before?” he asked again.

“Yes.” Her cheeks heated. Nothing like revealing every horrible thing about herself, and her family, to a guy. “But I think she knew I peeked sometimes. All her entries are very vague except for the scriptures she loved. Those she’d go on and on about in detail. Or at least she did early on in it.” Her eyes lingered on her mom’s first words, wishing she could have the woman who penned them. Her eyes welled. “I thought she wrote about the Bible verses for my benefit. Except, now if it’s true...if my mom had a life in the mafia—” She stopped and pressed a hand to her closed eyelids. She wouldn’t let herself cry. “It has a different meaning.”

“We don’t know that yet. Don’t give up hope.”

The sound of the lid popping open snapped her out of it. “What’s in there? More clothes?”

Luke grinned as he reached inside. “A flashlight, bottled water—” he tossed a twenty-ounce bottle to her “—blankets, granola bars.” He frowned and pulled out a dangling Pinocchio wooden puppet and a ten-inch doll dressed in a traditional Sicilian costume. “Were these yours?”

Gabriella moved to a kneeling position. “I think they used to be my mom’s toys, but I did play with them once.”

He pulled out a canister of pepper spray, his expression hopeful. “You think this still works?”

She reached past his outstretched arms and picked up a granola bar. “Check the expiration date.”

He twisted the can and squinted at the small print. “Three years old.”

“Then, no.”

He gave her a side glance. “I can’t imagine it wouldn’t still be effective even after the expiration date.”

“Oh, it’d still be potent, but that’s not the problem. It’s the aerosol spray part. After the expiration, there is a higher probability it’ll get clogged.” She opened the wrapper to the bar. “Not worth the risk. The last thing we need is to pepper spray ourselves.”

She could feel his eyes studying her. “How’d you know that?” he asked.

“Mom sent me with pepper spray to college. She never did anything without making sure she had all the facts. She was the queen of preparation, and she made sure I was, as well.” The metal screeching sound started up again. She jerked and accidentally brushed against his arm. The touch made her long for a hug, but she didn’t want to send mixed signals—or worse, open herself up for rejection. No doubt he was wishing she’d never stepped into his office. “Clock is ticking, Luke. We need to get out of here.”

“I’m aware.” He ran a hand through his still-damp golden hair. It spiked up. “I’ve checked the walls and the tops of the shelves. I don’t know what else we can do.”

Her stomach grew hot and heavy as if her veins pumped molten lead. “You’re not implying we should give up and wait to die? To let my aunt die?”

SIX

Luke gritted his teeth. An unseen vacuum in his chest made his rib cage seem hollow with the pure frustration of not being able to fix things. His memory taunted him with what he should have done differently, both years ago and today, but that wouldn’t help them now. “You know I’m not implying we give up, Gabriella.”

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