“I’m sorry, Angie, really— ”

“I know.” She couldn’t look at him and stay focused, so she made herself let his hand go. A few more inches between them would be a good idea, too. She couldn’t make her body scoot away, so she grabbed on to harsh realities to create the distance she needed. “Running around town with a baby she’s not supposed to have might just get Maggie killed.”

“Then help me find her before anyone else does.” The desperation in Tony’s expression drew her in even further. “Help me protect my niece.”

She gave up her fight not to put her arms around him. Focusing on only the job had never seemed more impossible. Tony’s initial resistance melted into the kind of rib-crushing hug that confirmed how much he’d needed the comfort she was offering.

No man had ever felt more right in her arms.

Dear Reader,

We live our lives. We work hard. We look at the world around us, decide what’s next and strike a new course. Life goes on, and so do we. Most of the time.

But a day’s hard work sometimes reveals less about where we want to go, and instead mirrors what we’ve left behind. The past we refuse to deal with. The disappointments that never really go away.

The Runaway Daughter takes us back to Oakwood, Georgia, and to the exciting small-town lives of the Rivers family. Tony Rivers is a sheriff’s deputy. A good ol’ boy who’s the life of every party. It’s either laugh or look back, and Tony never looks back. Chief Deputy Angie Carter, who’s working hard to forget her own disappointments, becomes his unwilling accomplice as he fights to protect his brother’s child.

Tony’s finished with losing the people he cares about, and he can’t keep his niece safe without Angie’s help. Looks as if the past is tired of being ignored, and so is the attraction that’s been brewing between these two for months.

I love to hear from my readers. Be sure to let me know what you think of The Runaway Daughter at www.annawrites.com.

Sincerely,

Anna

The Runaway Daughter
Anna DeStefano

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Andrew—For all you’ve been, every precious day you give,

and the future shining in each beautiful smile.

TOA—You were there for the very first sentence.

May every blessing given be returned hundredfold.

This is your year, sweetie!

Tanya—To believe, to dream, to laugh. Your friendship is

the well I return to time and again. The stars are yours, my

friend. Breathe deep and enjoy the ride.

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

I SHOULDN’T BE DOING this.

Oakwood Chief Deputy Angie Carter had been trying to talk herself out of trouble, and the dingy pool hall, for over an hour.

The voice in her head knew what it was talking about. She’d let things go too far, which made her an idiot. Playing with fire like this would only get her singed.

But tonight, her let’s be reasonable voice wasn’t having its say.

Her hand slid higher, on a mission she couldn’t stop. Up miles of strong muscles and across the soft, warm cotton that covered the chest leaning into hers. His arms pulled her more solidly against him. Her fingers tangled in his dark brown hair.

I shouldn’t be doing this….

Oh yes, you should.

“Mmm.” His warm lips nibbled from her ear down her neck. “So this is what a lady sheriff tastes like.”

“Not…” She gasped as his hands skimmed the undersides of her breasts. “Not the new sheriff yet. But still—”

His mouth settled over hers, swallowing the second thoughts he wouldn’t let her finish. At thirty-five she was ten years his senior, more experienced both in the department and in life. With more at stake. And he…he was too young, and too handsome, and far too good at kissing to heed warnings she’d stopped listening to hours ago.

I’m not going to do this….

“N…No.” She pushed away from the wall of muscle pressed against her, the craving to lose herself in its heat nearly her undoing.

Hell yeah, she wanted this. She’d wanted it for months. But what she wanted and the crumbs life actually threw her way were two different things. A gem of reality she’d learned three years ago, when the life she’d had by the tail had crashed and burned around her.

She pulled away. A traitorous sigh escaped when his lips grazed her cheek. “No more. We shouldn’t… We can’t—”

“Feels a lot like we can to me.” His eyes twinkled with mischief, but he loosened his hold and let her slide to the far corner of the booth.

She glanced around the shadowy bar, relieved that the Eight Ball was deserted. It was late at night in the middle of a work week, and every other sane person in town was home in bed.

“No one’s here to see your fall from grace, darlin’.” He followed her gaze. His deep chuckle made her ache to pull him closer again. He looked too amazing in his Wranglers and vintage Harley-Davidson T-shirt. Too much like something she could get used to wanting.

Why did he have to find fun in everything he did? Why did she have to envy him the talent?

The lightness he brought to every situation—even the tough ones they often faced on the job, or as they did volunteer work with some of the more mixed-up kids at Oakwood’s youth center—was a constant temptation. Terrifying was a better word for the way his laughter drew her in.

Why hadn’t they left well enough alone? People didn’t stumble over friendships like theirs every day. He was easy to like, easy to hang out with, this man who’d cornered the market on forgetting the past— the very thing she longed to be a pro at herself.

Then she’d gone and let herself want more.

“Tonight was a mistake,” she sputtered.

A real stupid move, and she wasn’t stupid.

Not anymore.

“Mistakes aren’t always bad, Carter.” He used her last name, the way officers addressed each other. Like a peer on the force. A good buddy.

Only this was the buddy she’d just been crawling all over. And he never called her Carter in that lazy, sinful way when they were on duty.

She applied the back of her hand to her lips and wiped. Sipped her now-warm beer. If she couldn’t taste him anymore, she’d have a shot at damage control.

“I’m ten years older than you are.”

“Damn straight! I like my women more experienced and ready to teach me somethin’.”

“Don’t be an ass.” If whatever this was between them was about sexual experience, he was a dirty old man, and she was the jailbait.

He tipped back his own longneck bottle and raised an eyebrow at her get-real glare.

“Okay,” he conceded. “Maybe I like a challenge. Pushing limits can be a whole lot of fun.”

“If getting fired is the kind of limit you’re looking to blow, then I’m your girl.”

“No one’s getting fired.” His settled his shoulders against the cushioned seat with a thump. “Lighten up, will ya?” There wasn’t much punch behind his complaint. Without looking her in the eye, he toyed with the label he’d shredded off his beer. “Why is everything so damn serious with you? You’ve got so much moody bottled up inside, you feel enough for ten people. Probably why we’re such a good fit.” He chuckled. “Lord knows, there’s no other woman in town who’d get me within ten feet of talking about feelings.”

And there it was.

That hint of something beneath the good ol’ boy facade.

Tony Rivers played Mr. Good Times like a Hollywood star. But turbulent currents ran beneath all that practiced nonchalance. There were glimpses of passion and determination, always at the most unexpected times. A sense of responsibility and duty to others that contradicted both his party lifestyle and his youth. A spark of intensity flashing behind come-here-baby brown eyes that sucked her in even quicker than his smile.

And he was poking fun at her moodiness?

“Serious is the only way my life works.” How she made it through the day. “I work hard, and I don’t make careless mistakes like this.”

“Not being the most controlled person in the room might be fun for a change. Why not give it a chance?” His lips curled playfully. “Who knows, darlin’. You might just like a bit of carelessness in your life.”

“Carelessness is something I can’t afford to develop a taste for. I’m leaving.” She cringed at the schoolgirl waver in her voice.

She stood, her frazzled nerves screaming to sprint, not walk, toward the door. His hand caught her wrist, and her skin tingled with excitement, same as any other time they touched.

“I’m sorry.” All teasing drained from his voice. “Look, you’re right. This was a mistake. The last thing I want to do is cause you trouble, but…”

His unfinished sentence vibrated between them. Words beyond good friends and easy camaraderie. Words that would shove the craziness they’d started tonight over the invisible line between careless and too far.

How many times had they almost had this conversation? How many months had she let this drag on, as they flirted with the ugly way this could turn out for both of them?

Against her better judgment, she let her gaze caress his face. The bar’s dim lighting and the uncharacteristic worried expression Tony wore had produced a sight few in town would believe. Roughness edged the jaw of Oakwood’s golden boy and shadows eclipsed his nonstop cheerfulness. The restraint it took not to smooth away his frown made her ache.

They’d only talked about his parents once or twice, but she knew enough, and had guessed plenty more. He’d lost them both too young—his mom, when she’d split only a year after he was born; then his dad, killed while on the job as sheriff six years later. And ever since, he’d made a point of not letting himself want anything or anyone he couldn’t walk away from with a shrug and smile. Keeping everyone at a comfortable distance while he was the life of the party was more Tony’s style. A warped world view Angie couldn’t help but appreciate. She hid behind her man’s uniform and her career. He overindulged in shallow relationships with women. The end result was the same.

Sometimes she wasn’t sure who was lonelier.

“Let me go, Tony.”

“Come on, don’t leave like this. It won’t happen again.” His grip on her arm tightened. “We see each other at work nearly every day. You’ve been friends with my family for years. We’re going to have to figure out what to do when—”

“There’s nothing to figure out. There is no when!” She pulled free and slammed the door shut on her indecision. “And you’re damn right this will never happen again. I’m your superior officer, Deputy Rivers. That means hands off, for both of us.”

She made herself walk out of the Eight Ball. She didn’t need this. She didn’t need him.

She’d rebuilt her life from nothing. She’d regained a speck of the peace she’d thought she’d lost for good. Her job as a deputy, and then chief, had saved her. Her run for sheriff was the future.

It was enough.

It had to be.

“ARE YOU TELLING ME you want a lady sheriff?” Deputy Martin Rhodes asked with a sideways glance. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

“Would that be so bad?” Tony ducked his head farther into his locker.

It was a little after three o’clock; he and Martin were rolling off their morning shift, and all the man wanted to talk about was their chief deputy.

Perfect.

“Angie’s a good cop.” Tony kept his mind focused on the job, and only the job. “Everybody knows that. She’s been chief for three years now.”

“Yeah, but that’s with your brother overseeing things.” Martin was practically pouting. An alarming sight on the burly man, who looked better suited for a career in professional wrestling than small-town law enforcement. “Eric is old-school, like I hear your daddy was. Laid back, until he has to bust some balls. Then he’s the point guy you want leading the charge. Angie… Well, you know how she is.”

Tony’s grunt said he didn’t know a thing about their chief deputy, which was the God’s-honest truth. He fished in his locker for street clothes to replace the sweaty uniform he’d shucked off. Not even interested in a shower before he dressed and left, he stripped down to his boxers and let the frustration of all he and his riding partner hadn’t accomplished that day wash over him. Drugs were leaking into Oakwood and the surrounding county. From where, the department wasn’t sure yet. But they had damn well better figure it out.

Their sleepy little corner of Georgia had the unfortunate distinction of being strategically located on a major north-south interstate running from the Carolinas down through Florida. A convenient crossroads, as it turned out, through which producers of the latest narcotic commodity of choice could network with southeastern buyers and dealers.

Crystal meth—inexpensive and instantly addictive—had wormed a filthy trail through Oakwood over the last year. And each of the nine deputies in the department was committed to finding the dealers and their runners before any more damage was done. Before any more people were hurt. Just last month, the town’s first drive-by shooting had resulted in an unknown man riddled with bullets and left to die on a street corner not two blocks from the Oakwood Youth Center. No ID. No one came forward to claim the body. No clue to who’d killed him.

Tony had been on duty since six, after a near-sleepless night, hunting a mobile drug lab one of Martin’s contacts had fingered as a sure-thing tip. Only the lab had vanished before they’d gotten there, leaving Tony and Martin roaming dirt roads on the outskirts of town, searching for an unmarked four-wheel-drive SUV with a trailer attached. They’d found nothing for their efforts but rising July temperatures and more questions. Like how the local drug network always managed to stay one step ahead of the department.

And if trudging through mosquitoes and steamy weather hadn’t been bad enough, his partner’s relentless preoccupation with Angie’s bid to become the next sheriff kept veering into downright uncomfortable territory.

“You know she’s not right for the job.” Martin could make a bulldog look wishy-washy. “I don’t care if she’s the mayor’s pet project, or if she and Eric are friends. He’s got no business pushing for her election, when—”

“My brother’s not pushing for anything.” Tony slammed his locker shut. Catching his friend’s shock at his uncharacteristic outburst, he shrugged and rifled through his duffel bag. “The people in town will make up their own minds when they vote. And Angie will have the city council to answer to if she’s elected. That’s a month down the road. Why get your panties in a wad about it now?”

Right back atcha, Rivers.

Defending Angie to anyone in the department was stupid. The woman could take care of herself. Yeah, she wanted this election badly. But there was no crime in that, even if she did seem downright desperate lately.

Desperate.

An image from last night barreled into him. An instant replay of Angie, all soft brown hair, hot green eyes and desperation, pushing away from the sexiest kiss he’d ever been on the receiving end of. The look on her face had hinted that he could be the center of her world. He could be what she wanted most. The answer to whatever she was searching for so desperately.

He swallowed a curse. Angie had made it clear anything beyond friendship and strictly business was a nonstarter. Obsessing about memories of how good they were together was pointless.

Thank God!

No more wondering what made her tick. No more circling the woman, looking for a way in like a teenager on hormone overload. It was time to shrug off Martin’s nonsense and thoughts of Angie and drive his tired ass home.

“This town’s not ready for a woman sheriff,” his partner insisted. “Not that woman, anyway. The department’s not ready. I don’t care how nice the legs are under those man-pants she always wears.”

Well, hell.

“The lady’s legs aren’t any of your business.” Some things even an easygoing guy couldn’t let slide. Tony laced his sneakers so tight, it was a wonder he could still feel his toes. “Angie’s pulled her weight around here, and then some, for as long as my brother. Gender’s got nothing to do with being sheriff, unless your problem’s with women on the force in general.”

“I’m not the one with the problem.” Martin’s face reddened. “It’s our chief deputy who’s got herself a problem. Sure Angie’s climbed her way to the top. Hell, she’s a regular poster child for equal opportunity. And she’s an okay cop, when she’s not distracted by press conferences with the mayor, or brown-nosing your brother. But being in charge takes more than that pair of balls she’s been trying to grow. She’s burned a lot of bridges, and she’s been promoted over a lot of good men who were in line before her. Every time the mayor shakes her hand and treats her like one of his family, she’s taking credit for the hard work of every other deputy in the department. And a lot of us don’t appreciate it. That ain’t going to change because she charms herself a new title.”

Tony could only stare. Angie took her commitment to protecting the citizens of Oakwood as seriously as any of the men. She was in law enforcement to serve her fellow citizens, not just to build a career. And she was working around the clock like the rest of the deputies, fighting to stomp out the drugs ripping at their small-town world. Yet the resentment toward her from a handful of the men grew stronger by the day.

Martin nodded as his words sunk in. “Your brother and the mayor’s influence might get her elected. But it’s a whole different ball game after that. If the woman isn’t careful, she’ll look for someone to watch her back one day, and there might not be anyone lining up to do the job.”

“That’s the most ignorant load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.” Tony pushed himself off the bench. The nasty feelings brewing inside him since leaving the Eight Ball alone last night boiled over. “Angie Carter’s the finest cop in this county. She’d take a bullet for your sorry ass without blinking an eye, though at the moment I can’t think of a single good reason why.”

He stepped forward. The several inches in height he had on Martin crowded the heavier man against the lockers.

“I don’t ever want to hear you or anyone else threaten not to cover her back, you hear me?”

“What’s wrong with you, man?” Martin used his forearm to shove some distance between them. “I didn’t mean nothin’. Besides, why are you so determined to defend her all of a sudden? You’re downright cagey every time her name comes up. I even heard a rumor you and Carter might have something goin’—”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Tony realized he was pointing a finger in his friend’s face. Overreacting to a wad of harmless, locker room griping at the end of a long, hot morning.

All because he’d felt like pounding something for weeks.

“Problem, boys?”

Eric rounded the row of lockers closest to them.

“No problem,” Tony and Martin said in unison, neither breaking eye contact. Neither moving a muscle.

Eric cleared his throat, a nonverbal bid for their undivided attention. Tony blinked first, fed up with the whole scene. When the hell had he started caring so much what anyone thought about anything? He grabbed his duffel bag from where he’d dropped it beneath the bench, and headed for the door.

“I was just leaving,” he mumbled as he strode past his brother.

They were having a special dinner at home that night, and he needed a couple hours of sleep before he could manage another round of everything’s okay. It was a send-off of sorts. Eric and his new bride were heading for New York in the morning—on a belated honeymoon and to scout out places to live while their nineteen-year-old daughter attended NYU.

Tony’s family was moving away. Evaporating. Only a year after his spunky, long-lost niece and sister-in-law had dropped back into their lives, and then undergone delicate, lifesaving surgeries. In another month, two at the most, they’d be gone.

He found himself scouting the deserted hallway for something to kick.

The over-the-top impulse had him chuckling to himself. Damn, man, you’re losing it. Suck it up and cut the melodrama.

Eric, Carrinne and Maggie deserved whatever happiness they could grab. No way was he standing in their way, even if he was already missing them like hell.

He felt Eric’s stare track him as he walked away. He’d only made it halfway down the hall when he heard footsteps approach from behind.

“Hold up,” his brother called.

Tony hefted his duffel higher and kept moving.

“I said hold up.” Eric grabbed Tony’s arm and yanked him around.

“Not now, okay!”

The look on Eric’s face insisted that now was exactly when it was going to be.

Eric had always been more of father than a brother to Tony. The man had given up a chunk of his life after their parents were both gone, to make sure Tony had one of his own. Tony’s respect for Eric’s sacrifices was rock solid. His brother was as steady as they came. Regardless of the crap life threw his way, he stuck it out, muscled through and made things work. And he took nothing more seriously than he did his family, especially after all they’d been through this last year. And that, Tony admired most of all. Squaring his shoulders, he made himself stay put.

This conversation was long overdue. If it hadn’t been for the drug mess eating up every speck of Eric’s free time, Tony wouldn’t have been able to avoid him this long. He deserved the ass-chewing, and he was done making his brother hunt him down to do it.

“Suppose you tell me what the hell’s going on between you and Angie?” Eric crossed his arms, digging in for the duration.

CHAPTER TWO

ERIC ALREADY KNEW the answers to his question, enough of them anyway. Still, he wouldn’t believe it until he heard it from Tony’s mouth.

His brother hooking up with Angie Carter. Of all the careless, harebrained things—

“Nothing’s going on.” Tony’s expression was a careful study in innocence. Same as when he’d been younger and Eric had caught him in one of the half-truths kids clung to rather than facing the music for what they’d done.

“Then I suppose you were only helping Angie fish something out of her eye last night at the Eight Ball.”

Hearing the latest rumors, Eric had been hunting for his brother after shift change.

Tony’s duffel hit the ground. He propped his fists on his hips, where his cutoff T-shirt didn’t quite meet his raggedy gym shorts.

“Nothing happened last night,” he said evenly.

“That’s not what I heard.”

“From who?”

“Now why do you think that would matter?” Eric scratched the back of his neck and did his best imitation of their old man. “I don’t care where the story started, and even less whether it’s true or not.”

“Then what the hell do you want from me?”

“How anyone could have gotten the crazy notion that you and my chief deputy have been going out for weeks, that’s what I’m more concerned about.”

Tony’s gaze dropped to the floor.

“Damn.” Eric hissed in a breath. “I never figured either of you for being stupid.”

Tony looked him square in the eye then, man-to-man.

On the force, he had grown into the responsibility Eric knew he was capable of. No father could be prouder. But the kid still hadn’t shaken off the past. His antics away from the department made him the star of every party, but the good times never seemed to follow him home. And his behavior spoke more of running these days, than of having fun.

Then he and Angie had started hanging out at the youth center, spending more and more time together off the job. Which should have been a good thing. If the kid was getting serious with anyone but their chief deputy, Eric would be all for it. But why Angie?

“We’ve been going out for a few beers after work the last couple of weeks.” Tony winced. “Shooting some pool. Talking. Last night…just happened, okay. I don’t know… One minute we were blowing off steam, same as usual. She’d scratched breaking a new rack of balls, and I was giving her a hard time about it. The next thing I knew…we were in the booth, and she was smiling up at me and…” He shrugged again. “The place was empty. There was no one there to see.”

“Nowhere in this town is empty enough to keep something like you and Angie going after each other under wraps.”

“We weren’t going after anything. It was a kiss, and it wasn’t her idea. I initiated it, and she ended it. We both know we’re better off just friends. It was a mistake….” Tony’s face flushed with anger. “And anyone who says any different needs to keep his mouth shut, or I’ll shut it for him.”

Holy hell.

Eric buried his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. Tony might have convinced himself that he and Angie were all about nothing, but Eric wasn’t buying it. His baby brother was falling for about the only woman in town the kid couldn’t have. A woman who, incidentally, could use a good time or two.

“You’re tangling with a line you can’t cross, son.” Eric gifted his brother with the same look he’d once used to explain the birds and the bees. “Angie’s a superior officer. If you don’t care what something like this would do to your career, think about hers. She’s up for sheriff, with Mayor Henderson and half the town breathing down her neck every waking hour. She’s fought for this chance for years.”

“I know that, but—”

“And even if she wasn’t my chief, she’s not like the other women you date, who like things as fast and loose as you do. After the way Freddie Peters messed Angie up, you can’t play her, then move on to someone else. I’m not even sure she’s dated since the man broke off their engagement. That was three years ago.”

“I know all about Freddie Peters. Angie told me the whole story. Give me some credit. I wouldn’t hurt her like that bastard did. Not for the world!”

They’d had a heart-to-heart about her ex-fiancé?

Just friends my ass.

“End this before it gets serious,” Eric warned, wondering if he wasn’t already too late.

“There’s nothing to end.” His brother’s chin lifted.

“Bull.”

“There’s nothing going—”

“I don’t want to hear any more.” He wished he had the time, but today he was fresh out. “I’m getting on a plane with Carrinne in the morning, and there’s enough to worry about around here without your libido stirring up trouble in my department. Another kid OD’d early this morning. Travis Reynolds—Dawson and Lettie’s oldest. They found him at home. Drove him to the hospital. No one called the department until the E.R. doc coded him DOA.”

“Damn.” Tony’s expression hardened. “Was it—”

“Meth,” Eric confirmed, raging inside at the toll drugs were taking on their town.

Methamphetamine was a designer drug, its trade ideally built to lure in teen dealer-wannabes. Local kids with their own cars, too little money and too much time on their hands. It was easy to manufacture, easy to score and hugely profitable to anyone who needed fast cash. Nothing the department had tried had made a dent in Oakwood’s growing drug culture. And no one spent more time with the kids who were most at risk than Tony. The teens who wandered in and out of the Oakwood Youth Center were his pet project.

“The ME confirmed it was the same grade of stuff as last Christmas,” Eric added. A kid the next county over had celebrated New Year’s early with a buddy who’d talked him into trying meth. The fifteen-year-old hadn’t lived to see January. “More than likely, from the same supplier.”

“I saw Travis at the center the other day,” Tony said, the fury in his eyes tinged with loss. “He and some of the other boys kicked my ass at pool.”

Travis Reynolds had been a cocky kid who’d taken pride in his no-good rep: skipping school, getting booted off the football team for bad grades. He’d even been arrested last month for DUI, by Tony of all people, and his license had been pulled. But he’d been joyriding with Garret Henderson that night, the mayor’s kid. A little mayorly finagling and pressure from the city council had kept the boys out of jail.

Travis had been back on the streets in less than forty-eight hours. Eric wasn’t the only one who’d figured it was just a matter of time before the teen self-destructed again. But no one had expected it would end this way. Least of all the shocked and grieving parents Eric had left at the hospital.

“What a waste.” He rubbed a hand across his face and refocused on his brother’s own foray into recklessness. “And Angie’s going to have her hands full dealing with the fallout while I’m gone. So do her and yourself a favor. Steer clear of the woman outside of the job.”

“Eric, it’s not what you think—”

“Angie deserves better than one of your twenty-four-hour specials.”

“I know that.”

“Then keep your hands off!”

Eric headed for his office and the mound of paperwork he had to finish before leaving to scout out the future he, his wife and their daughter had been waiting a lifetime to start. He hated the idea of leaving Oakwood now, even for a few weeks. The timing sucked. But he trusted his people to watch over the town. His deputies knew how to do their jobs. They were professionals.

Most of the time, anyway.

Had his brother and his chief deputy lost their minds?

“DRUGS?” MAGGIE RIVERS asked Claire Morton.

They’d moved their whispered conversation into the girls’ bathroom at the Oakwood Youth Center. Anything to avoid the posse of teenage boys, Garret Henderson included, who wouldn’t stop talking about Travis Reynolds overdosing. The mayor’s son always thrived on sharing every gory detail he overheard from his dad.

Claire’s baby was in dire need of a diaper change, so she and Maggie had jumped at the excuse to get lost.

“Are you sure Sam’s dealing?” Maggie asked her friend.

“He’s doing more than that. I think he’s supplying the stuff to half the county. Where else would he be getting the money for the new car, and the apartment and all the electronic junk he’s got lying around everywhere?” Claire shoved her frizzy red hair away from her face and yanked at the plastic tape holding the diaper on a wiggling baby Max. The plastic unfolded from the baby’s bottom, revealing more mess than a seven-month-old should be capable of making.

Maggie couldn’t keep from covering her nose.

“Oh, that’s not right!” She tried breathing through her mouth. It didn’t help.

“Peaches.” Claire went to work with a wad of baby wipes. She looked like she wanted to race Maggie for the door. “I’m trying solid foods, and this happens every time he eats strained peaches.”

“Then stop giving them to him.” Desperate to do something to help, Maggie fished for a fresh diaper in her friend’s oversize bag.

She lifted out an Elmo-emblazoned plastic panty. A small baggie came with it, slipping off the diaper onto the cracked, fake-marble surface of the vanity. The white powder inside could have been formula. But the speed at which her friend snatched the baggie off the counter put a swift end to that theory.

“You see?” Claire waved it fiercely in the air between them. She left Maggie to hold the baby as she stomped to the nearest stall and flushed the bag, contents and all, down the toilet. “Sam thinks he’s hiding it from me. There’s never anything like this in the apartment. But I found more between the seats of his car the other day. He wouldn’t tell me what it was— just that it was none of my business. Now it’s in Max’s things. I think…I think Sam might have even been selling the stuff that killed Travis. I saw them talking together the other day, all secret-like. And Travis called Sam’s cell phone yesterday morning.”

Maggie stared as her friend returned her attention to the baby she’d made with Sam Walker, one of the shadiest characters in Oakwood. She had to keep her cool for her friend’s sake. Claire had never thought she was a goody-goody, like some of the other kids, just because her dad was the sheriff and her uncle a deputy. Now wasn’t the time to prove her friend wrong and start nagging about the law.

Besides, she’d heard worse back home in New York, where she’d lived with her mom until a year ago. It hadn’t been hard to pick out the druggies and the dealers in her high school in Manhattan. Even though she’d gone to a specialized math and science school with some of the smartest kids in the country, the drug culture had been accepted as a way of life. Moving to picturesque Georgia to live with her newly discovered father, Maggie had expected things to be different. Simpler somehow, more homespun.

But it hadn’t taken long to recognize the familiar patterns. The half lives being lived by people, many of them teens her age or younger, who fed their habits in secret, or so they thought. But the secrets were getting harder to hide. Her dad’s deputies kept raiding places all over town, trying to bust things up. But nothing was working.

And now Claire’s boyfriend was the ring leader?

“There were all these people at the apartment when Max and I got home last night.” Her friend hefted the now clean smelling baby onto her shoulder and pushed at the hair falling into her worried blue eyes. “I didn’t know many of them. I never do. It seems like it’s a new bunch every time, except for one or two of the local guys Sam keeps telling me to forget about seeing there. And there are the endless cell-phone calls. The beepers going off all the time. Then Sam or one of his goons disappears, and it’s hours before I see them again. They keep talking about some kind of shack over on his mom’s property near Pineview. They’re storing who knows what there. And one of the guys last night had a gun. I swear, Maggie, I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

“If Sam’s running the local drug scene, you can’t stay with him, Claire. It’s not safe, for you or for Max. You’ve got to get out of there.”

And you’ve got to tell somebody, but Maggie didn’t dare say the words out loud. Claire was so freaked, no way would she talk to Maggie’s dad or any grown-up. Not until she was free of Sam.

“Get out where? Like I can find some place to stay without going to Sam’s family. And those people are bad as he is. I think he’s bankrolling most of them with the money he’s making. No way would they take my side against him. They wouldn’t let me walk away with Max, either.”

“You’re always complaining that Sam never spends any time with the baby.” Maggie smoothed a hand over the downy fluff on Max’s head. She and her dad would never get back the years when neither of them had known the other existed. Every new day was a scramble to make up for what they’d missed. How could Sam not care about his own kid? “I hate to say it, but I doubt Sam’s going to stop you two from leaving.”

“Maybe not, but his family would. The Walkers are like some kind of backwoods clan—nobody takes what’s theirs. And they’re all over the place,” Claire added with a touch of envy.

She’d hit town as a runaway, leaving behind parents she said had wanted to control her life and tell her what to do. She’d been on her way to somewhere bigger like Atlanta. Someplace you could start over and make a new beginning with nothing, not even a high-school diploma. But then she’d hooked up with Sam Walker, and the guy’s anything-goes, get-the-most-from-today line had made Oakwood look really good.

Now, a year and a half later, she and Max were trapped in a no-win situation worse than what she’d left behind in Virginia.

“Sam’s mama’s not going to let this baby out of her sight,” Claire added.

“What does Betty Walker have to do with it? Max is yours.”

“And Sam is hers. My job is to make her son happy, and take care of her grandson. If she got wind I was even thinking of leaving, the family would take Max from me and worry about making it look legal later.”

“Then you’d go to the police. My dad—”

“The Walkers could make Max disappear before your dad got to them. I have no one here, Maggie. My parents don’t even know I had a baby. And I’m not sure they’d help, even if they did. I’ve got to forget all the stuff going on in the apartment and make the best of it. At least until Max is older. Maybe then if I take him away, I can leave him with someone while I work.”

And that was the argument Maggie kept banging her head against, every time she tried to talk her friend into walking away from her baby’s father. Claire believed she was completely helpless. Completely dependent. Sam and his family made sure of it.

“Can… Can you talk with Sam about it?” Maggie fought not to tell her friend she was nuts for even thinking of sleeping one more night in that apartment. “Maybe he’ll agree to do whatever he’s doing somewhere else. There has to be some other place he can…you know, do business with people.”

What was she saying! Sam Walker had to be stopped.

But Claire was already shaking her head, her eyes clouding with tears. “I hardly say anything to him anymore. The baby’s crying all night, and he’s tired of Max’s stuff being all over the apartment when he has people over. I don’t even think he wants us there, except his mama’d hit the roof if he turned us out. And I think…I think I heard him and those guys talking about that drive-by shooting that happened last month. I…I think Sam was involved somehow. Maybe that guy who died even worked for him. I’m scared, Maggie. I…” A tear trickled down. “I don’t know what to do.”

“The drive-by’s all my dad and my uncle talk about. Nothing like that’s ever happened here before. It’s got everyone in town messed up worrying. Claire—” She grasped her friend’s elbow. “You’ve got to get away from Sam.”

“I can’t. Where would I go?”

“Let me talk to my dad. He’ll know what to do.”

Her dad. Maggie’s chest grew tight, same as every time she thought how lucky she was to have her mom, and now her dad and Uncle Tony in her life. Even crusty old LeJeune was growing on her. Her Oakwood family took care of each other like nobody’s business, the part of her newfound southern heritage she liked best. To people down here, family meant fighting to the death for the people you loved.

But Claire had no one to fight for her but scummy Sam.

And me. She has me.

“Don’t you dare tell Sheriff Rivers,” her friend warned. “No cops. They’d want to question Sam and his family. They’d take Max away from me, ’cause I have no way to take care of him without Sam’s money, then the Walkers—”

“My dad wouldn’t do that—”

“I swear, Maggie. If you tell anyone about this—”

“Okay! I won’t.”

“If you do, I’ll never speak to you ag—”

The bathroom door swung open.

Claire sucked in the rest of her threat.

“Hey girls.” Angie Carter’s smile lost some of its customary gusto as she absorbed their stunned silence. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” Claire grabbed the diaper bag and all but trampled Oakwood’s chief deputy rushing out the door.

Maggie picked up the packet of baby wipes her friend had left, and tried to slip away, too. The hand on her arm wasn’t exactly a command to halt, but Maggie skidded to a stop inside the door all the same.

She should tell Angie what was going on. But Claire would never trust her again if she did.

“What’s up?” Angie’s voice was friendly but firm, which was a pretty good description of the woman herself.

For a cop, Angie got along great with the kids at the center—she and Uncle Tony, both. They’d become a great team, spending most of their off-duty afternoons coordinating cool activities. They didn’t talk down to anyone, either. They treated teens like grown-ups. Like friends.

No matter who you were, you were okay with them, no questions asked. And one smart-mouthed kid after another in the county had started to trust them. Except Claire, who didn’t trust anybody but Maggie.

“Nothing’s up.” Her stomach tightened at the lie.

“I know you two are friends.” Angie looked at Maggie, as honest and straight-shooting as ever, even in her everyday khakis and a knit golf shirt. Today’s shirt was the same cool green color as her eyes. “But Claire’s been hanging with a pretty rough crowd lately. If she’s in some kind of trouble—”

“Claire’s fine.” Maggie held her breath against the urge to blurt out what she knew about Sam Walker. She ducked her head. “I…I’ve got to get home and help my uncle Tony with my parents’ going-away thing. I…I’ll see you later.”

She made a quick escape, leaving Angie no chance for more questions. As she jogged toward the side door her friend had most likely left through, she thought of that night’s family dinner and couldn’t help but smile.

Her parents were leaving for New York in the morning, to scout places for the three of them to live in the fall. Maggie was staying behind this trip, finishing summer school and the two classes she needed to graduate. She’d missed tons of school last year. The liver-donor surgery that had saved her mom’s life had taken months to recover from.

Two more classes and her future was ahead of her. The kind of future Claire would never have if she kept hooking up with losers like Sam.

Outside, there was no sign of Claire or the boys they’d been hiding from. Boys, including Garret Henderson, who hung with Sam Walker almost every afternoon—doing what, Maggie could only guess.

What if telling Angie tonight was the right thing? What if it was the only way to keep Sam from hurting Claire and the rest of the kids in town more than he already had?

Maggie shook off the what-ifs and headed home. She wanted to go after her friend. She wanted to go back and spill her guts to Angie. She wanted to fill her parents in on everything, and help shut Sam Walker and his drugs down for good. But she couldn’t do any of it, not tonight.

She’d talk some sense into Claire in the morning. After her parents left for the airport, she’d head over and confront Sam himself if she had to.

Whatever it took to get her friend out of that apartment.

ANGIE WATCHED Maggie hightail it through the side door of the youth center as if the girl’s low-rise jeans were on fire. Seeing her running scared was a shock.

Maggie was a Rivers through and through. Brown hair, intelligent brown eyes and a heart of gold. And a Rivers didn’t run. From anything. In fact, they’d fight to the death—particularly to protect the people they cared about. And Maggie and Claire Morton had been as thick as thieves from the moment they’d met six months ago, when Maggie had tagged along during one of her uncle’s volunteer nights at the center.

It had been an odd match, the sheriff’s kid and a runaway who’d zeroed in on the toughest badass in town, gotten herself knocked up, and then moved herself and the baby in with Sam Walker for good measure. But Maggie had seen something in Claire worth saving, and that had been the end of her parents trying to talk her out of hanging with the girl every afternoon.

Something was up. Angie could smell it. But was she sure enough to make a stink about it, when her ability to work with the kids around here hinged on not interfering in their life choices unless it was an emergency?

The teens at the center were practically her surrogate children. She’d accepted the reality years ago that she couldn’t have kids of her own. She’d dealt with the devastating impact that news had had on her dreams, and her never-to-be marriage to Freddie. Then she’d gone out and found a way to fill her life with kids regardless. Over the last few years, her volunteer work at the center and her career had become her salvation.

The teens here needed her, and she needed them. Her goal, the goal of all the volunteers who gave their time here, many of them sheriff’s deputies like herself, was to keep the often at-risk kids coming back. Kids from broken or dual-income homes, where parental control was either scarce or nonexistent. Rural families that often didn’t or couldn’t provide the kind of supervision restless teenagers needed. She was a big sister here, a confidante who listened and helped any way she could, while doing everyday things like playing a friendly game of Ping-Pong or basketball.

Angie gritted her teeth against the memory of her last game of hoops with Travis Reynolds. She’d let Travis down by not getting rid of the crap someone had sold him. And now Claire Morton was acting nervous. And big-city-smart Maggie Rivers looked more worried than Angie had ever seen her. It didn’t take a decade in law enforcement to guess what the problem was.

Baby Max’s father was bad news. There were rumors Sam Walker was into Oakwood’s crystal meth trade up to his eyeballs. The department had no proof. Yet. But he’d been working his way to the top of their suspects list ever since their first meth collar eight months ago. And the chance that Maggie had gotten herself involved in the drugs overtaking their county like cancer landed a knot dead center in Angie’s stomach.

She couldn’t let this slide.

Maggie’s parents were leaving in the morning, and they’d been planning tonight’s family dinner all week. With as little information as Angie had, she wasn’t stirring up trouble their last evening in town. But once tomorrow’s shift was over, Maggie Rivers had some questions to answer. Which would leave Angie talking to Tony if there was any truth to her suspicions.

Damn.

The man was the last person she should be spending her off-duty time talking to. She couldn’t get it out of her head, the confused, almost disappointed look on his face when she’d pulled away from him at the Eight Ball.

Tony wore unattached like some kind of shield— exactly why she’d felt so safe spending time with him, talking about things she never talked about with anyone. And she’d listened to his stuff, too. The way a good friend does—hanging out, and listening and trying to understand.

Not to mention the creepy fact that once, like a million years ago in high school, she’d actually had a crush on the man’s older brother.

They were friends. That was all. Just good friends.

Then Tony had pulled her into that kiss, and— “There you are, Chief.” The mayor’s booming voice from the other end of the hall yanked her away from her memories.

The board meeting.

Before stepping into the restroom, she’d been headed for the center’s trustees meeting. She’d already been running late for their discussion about how the town’s civic leaders could help deter the rising drug problem. A quick check of her watch confirmed that she’d now missed the entire meeting.

But instead of being angry, the mayor walked her way with a cheerful gait, his ever-present press gaggle in tow. He never missed an opportunity to corner her into face time with the local reporters. They were her mouthpiece to the community, he insisted. A powerful weapon in her bid for election, not to mention his determination to preserve his winning image now that he was publicly supporting her.

He shook her hand. His politician’s smile played for their audience.

“I wasn’t sure you were going to make it tonight.” He turned slightly so the cameras caught his good side.

And she almost hadn’t, even though it was one of her regular afternoons to volunteer. The mayor’s blatant promotion of her candidacy chafed many of the deputies the wrong way, including her. His recent interest in the department didn’t extend to talking the council into hiring more officers, or upgrading their facilities and equipment to help them better protect the county’s citizens. All flash and no substance, Henderson was as supportive as it took to help himself and his own upcoming bid for reelection.

But she’d agreed to attend the board meeting, and this time she’d even agreed to the press. She’d do whatever it took to better educate people about the drug problem brewing in their backyards: local leaders, parents and anyone else who’d listen. The town had to band together to find a solution.

“Mr. Mayor.” She smiled blandly into the glare of flashbulbs. “I’m willing to do anything for the kids, you know that.”

“I’ve just come from meeting with the center’s board of trustees, as you know,” he said, more for the reporters than her. He nodded as Oliver Wilmington joined them. The old man walked painfully slowly these days, leaning heavily on the cane he’d relied on since recovering from last year’s stroke. “And they’re very impressed with your department’s efforts in drug prevention, as well as your personal plans for the future, should you be elected sheriff. You know the chairman of the center’s board, don’t you?”

“Mr. Wilmington.” She shook hands with Maggie Rivers’s great-grandfather. Another flurry of flashbulbs temporarily blinded her. “The department is always happy to have the support of our local leaders.”

“Actually,” the elderly gentleman said, “I’m not entirely convinced either you or your department is up for this task. Not after that unfortunate boy’s death this morning.”

Angie nodded thoughtfully. Inside she cringed. Old Man Wilmington had never hidden his skepticism of her ability to make a good sheriff. Now everyone in town would be reading about it in tomorrow’s paper.

“I—” she started.

“The chief’s the man for the job.” Mayor Henderson’s hearty pat on the back, his forced enthusiasm in front of the two reporters hastily recording every word being said, grated almost as much as his insistence in repeating her title over and over again. As if anyone in town could forget that the only woman on the force was in charge of the nine men serving with her. “Putting this scum threatening Oakwood’s teens and citizens behind bars is the cornerstone of Officer Carter’s platform.”

“Is that how you see it, Chief?” Cal Grossman, the Oakwood Star’s combination roving reporter and editorial chief, chimed in. His weekly spotlights on the ups and downs of her unopposed sheriff’s race had become a local must-read. “That your run for the top spot hinges on stopping the increase in drug-related crime in the area?”

“Not to mention the gangs,” Oliver Wilmington added. “What are you going to do about the gangs running amok through this historic town? Shootings, overdoses, graffiti scarring some of our most beloved buildings. It’s appalling how little control the sheriff’s department seems to have over any of it.”

Angie looked from one man to another, feeling oddly like a reality-TV contestant who’d been set up to fail, meanwhile everyone was glued to his seat watching her squirm. Well, they’d have to look somewhere else for their entertainment today.

“Our department is totally committed, as I am, to handling all of these problems, gentlemen.” She gave Wilmington a firm smile. “But my bid for sheriff couldn’t be further from the point here. Our current sheriff and each of the deputies on this county’s payroll have the same goal—protecting our citizens. Most importantly, our children.”

“Like my son, Garret, here.” The mayor all but dragged the eighteen-year-old from the fringes of the impromptu press conference. “Our focus has to stay on keeping these kids safe and out of trouble. And that’s right up Chief Carter’s alley. Why, she volunteers no fewer than ten hours each week to mentor the teens who come to this center. Personal time she could be spending any ol’ way she wants. And she chooses to be here, working with kids who need the kind of guidance she—”

Angie tuned out the mayor’s prattle and studied Garret Henderson instead. The boy wasn’t exactly tops on her list of trouble-shy kids. She’d caught him hanging around Sam Walker and a few other miscreants a little too often lately. A couple of times, she’d found herself wondering if the kid wasn’t strung out on something. Garret stood stiffly beside his dad. Silent—she’d like to think because of his grief over Travis Reynolds’s death. Or maybe he tolerated being used as a prop in his father’s political exploits even less gracefully than Angie did.

“If you’ll excuse me.” She left behind the scene threatening to turn her stomach.

“But, Chief Carter,” Cal called after her. “Do you have any comment on your election hinging on how well you handle the drug problem, especially now that Sheriff Rivers is on extended leave?”

“No,” was all she’d let herself say.

Sick of the mayor’s tactics. Sick of talking about the sheriff’s race—in which she was the sole candidate, but if a majority of the citizens didn’t cast their vote, the city council would be given the duty of appointing an interim sheriff once Eric left in the fall. Sick to death that kids were dying, yet the election was all anyone, including herself, could think about most days, she headed out the front door of the youth center.

Exactly when had she started dreading the thought of campaigning for the job she’d hitched her future to? And how was it possible she longed to keep walking until she reached the Rivers place, so she could talk through her second thoughts about her career—not with her boss, but with his kid brother?

Not going to happen.

She’d decided to wait until morning to follow up with Maggie. She wouldn’t interrupt their family’s celebration for anything. Especially to talk with Tony.

But the man managed to see her. The real her buried beneath the competent cop. He didn’t try to fix things she didn’t want fixed, her family’s favorite pastime when she let the doubt and fear slip free.

Tony would find a way to understand. He’d sit and listen to the confusion rolling around inside her head. The swamping guilt over Travis’s death. Her wishy-washy angst about the election. Maybe he’d even find a way to make her laugh.

Actually, it didn’t seem to matter what Tony did. It would be good to see him again. More than good. It would make the otherwise hopeless night ahead bearable.

Wonderful.

Why did Tony Rivers have to be exactly what she needed most, just when she’d promised herself she’d steer clear of the man?

CHAPTER THREE

“MAGGIE, YOU’VE GOTTA GO,” Claire said the next morning. She cracked the door open a little wider. “Who knows when Sam’ll be back. He’s already in a bad mood.”

“I’m not leaving without you, Claire.” Maggie put her hand on the door to keep her friend from shutting it in her face. No way was she giving up this easily. “Where’s Max?”

“In his crib. Sleeping, thank God. I’m trying to clean while I’ve got a few minutes.”

“’Cause Sam’s too lazy to pick up after himself?”

“No, because he was hopping mad about the place when he left.” Claire wiped eyes that looked swollen from crying. “I don’t want to deal with him coming back and getting mad all over again. It scares Max so bad, all that yelling.”

“Let me in.” Maggie reached inside and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Let me help clean. You look dead tired.”

With shaking fingers, Claire slid the chain back and swung the door wide. Tired wasn’t the right word. It looked as if she hadn’t slept at all last night. And she hadn’t been exaggerating about the apartment. Dirty clothes, dishes and baby things were strewn everywhere.

“Ew.” Maggie pried a container of Chinese takeout from where it had spilled and adhered to the coffee table.

“I don’t know how I could let everything get so filthy.” Claire took the mess from Maggie and tossed it into the unlined wicker trash can in the corner. “I’m just—”

“You’re just a new mom with no help around here, who’s trying to take care of a baby entirely on your own. Where’s this family of Sam’s? Why hasn’t his mother pitched in, if things are this bad?”

“Sam won’t ask Betty for help. His family never comes here. We always go to their farm out near Pineview. Once I get things under control, we’ll be fine.” Claire picked up a pile of soiled laundry. Tripping over a stuffed bunny, she caught herself on the end table beside the couch and toppled a shoe box to the floor. It landed on its side. A revolver rolled out.

“Oh my God.” Claire reached for the gun.

“Don’t touch it!” Maggie pulled her away. “Who knows what it’s been used for.”

“What?” Fear filled her friend’s hoarse whisper.

“You said Sam and those guys were talking about a drive-by shooting. What if—”

“No.” Claire sat on the couch, shaking her head slowly. “I can’t believe that Sam—”

“Of course you believe it!” Keeping quiet about Sam’s connection to Oakwood’s drug problem had tortured Maggie all through her parent’s send-off dinner, into the night, and right up until she’d kissed her mom and dad goodbye that morning. Then she’d all but run from her uncle’s good-buddy suggestion that they spend the day together. “What I can’t figure out is how you can believe it, and still be here with your baby.”

“Exactly where am I supposed to go, with no money and no way of getting any, except from Sam and his family?”

“Call your parents.” Maggie sat and put an arm around her friend. Claire was out of time and easy options. “You said they live somewhere near Williamsburg. That’s not so far way. I’m sure if they knew—”

“My parents are hundreds of miles from here, and don’t be so sure they’d help. When I left, they were lecturing me about being a high-school dropout. Add an unwed mother to the bargain, and—”

“They’ll want you back. And they’ll want Max, too, once they have a chance to know him. And you can stay with me until you reach them.”

“What about when Sam finds out? His mom won’t let me take Max—”

“No one has to know you’re at my house. My parents are on their way to New York.”

Maggie already missed her parents, and they would be back in a few weeks. Claire hadn’t seen her family in almost two years. She must be dying inside.

“It’s the weekend,” Maggie pressed. “We’ll lie low and figure this out together. Sam’ll think you skipped town or something.”

Claire was shaking her head again. She seemed to have run out of arguments. Maggie slipped the gun back inside the shoe box by nudging it with the lid. Then using the toe of her sneaker, she slid the whole thing as far away as she could.

“It’s not safe here. My uncle will help you keep Max away from Sam and his family for a few days, and by Monday you’ll be on your way to Virginia.”

Maggie heard herself make the promise and prayed Tony would play along. It wasn’t like she and her uncle were überclose or anything. He was fun to hang out with, but serious stuff wasn’t his style. But after she showed up with Claire, what choice would he have? Maggie wasn’t taking no for an answer, from him or her friend.

“Once you’re back with your parents, they’ll work out how to legally keep Max with you and away from the Walkers.”

And you can help my dad and his deputies nail Sam’s ass to the wall.

“I…I’d have to pack up all of Max’s stuff. I…I don’t know…”

“I’ll help.” Maggie pulled her friend to her feet and half shoved her into the other room. Sam might come back at any minute. “Just bring whatever Max’ll need for the next couple of days. You can borrow some of my clothes, and your parents will help you with the rest once you get to Virginia.”

A peek inside the portable crib between the bed and the wall confirmed that Max was sleeping soundly. From the mess in the closet, Claire produced an oversize duffel that Maggie helped her fill with diapers, baby clothes and the tiny toys Max chewed on almost constantly, now that he was teething.

“What about food?” Maggie couldn’t zip the overflowing bag, so she left it gaping open. “Do you need anything we can’t pick up at the grocery?”

“I’m still nursing mostly.” Claire set aside the extra blanket she’d taken from the playpen and headed for the bedroom door. “There’s half a box of rice cereal in the kitchen, and a few bottles of the fruit I’ve been trying to get him to eat—”

The front door swung open with a thump, cutting Claire off. Maggie grabbed her friend’s arm and pulled her back into the room. Together, they tiptoed to the corner by the crib. Claire held her finger to her lips, an unnecessary bid for silence.

“Damn, man, you weren’t kidding about this place,” an unfamiliar male voice said. “It smells like baby poop in here.”

“It’s the damn diaper pail in the bathroom,” Sam groused in his distinctive Southern drawl. “Claire?” he called.

The girls froze, glancing nervously to where Max was snoozing the morning away.

“Thank God,” Sam said. “She must have taken the brat somewhere.”

“You as a daddy,” the other man joked. “I never thought you were stupid enough to get a piece of white trash like Claire Morton pregnant.”

“Yeah?” Sam’s chuckle was a menacing thing. Beside Maggie, Claire was shaking in her sandals. “I guess it’s about as stupid as you nailing Digger Hudson last month, in broad daylight a block from the youth center. Now the cops are crawling all over the place. It’s cutting into my business.”

“Is that why you brought me down here, to bust my hump about the drive-by? Man, that was weeks ago. I just ran your shit halfway to Memphis and back, and I dumped a small fortune in your lap. Don’t that count for nothin’? Digger was skimming half your take. You told me to take care of him.”

“Quietly, Marcus. I told you to take care of him real quiet-like. Now the town’s in even more of an uproar.”

“So what? You’ve got a new dealer for Digger’s territory, and he’s doing more business than you can handle. The kids around here are buying the stuff like it’s candy. You can’t make it fast enough. Besides, the mayor and his hired guns ain’t got nothin’, or they’d have come looking for me by now. You’re untouchable.”

“They may have nothing yet, but I had to move another lab this morning. And one of my runners almost got nabbed at the bus station on his way to a dealer in Macon. The money in Atlanta is getting edgy. I live and die by my reputation. I can’t afford to be seen as high risk. Too much local interference, and I’m out. There are other towns, with less cops and less complications. The people who back me don’t want to deal with that kind of heat. So what I’ve got, is a great big pain in my ass, with your name written all over it.”

“Now wait a minute—”

“No, you wait! You’re out, Marcus. You ain’t goin’ to up and decide to be stupid again, not in my town. Get the hell out of Oakwood, and don’t let me catch you around here again.”

“You can’t—”

“I can do whatever the hell I want,” Sam bellowed. “And you ain’t got jack to say about it. Get the hell out of my apartment, and don’t make the mistake of lying low anywhere around here. My people are everywhere. People a whole lot more loyal to me than they are to you. There’s no place for you to hide.”

“You son of a bitch,” the other man growled, then from the sound of the scuffling and the colorful curses that followed, he took a swing at Sam.

Flying furniture rattled the wall separating the two rooms. Male grunts accompanied the sound of fists connecting with numerous body parts. Maggie held her breath. Her friend’s wild eyes filled with tears.

Too late was all Maggie could think. Why hadn’t she forced Claire to come home with her last night? Max was going to wake up any minute, then Sam and this Marcus guy were going to know Maggie and Claire were there and had overheard everything.

She edged to the crib and lifted the sleeping baby and his cocoon of bedding to her shoulder. She covered his head with a blanket to better drown out the racket from the next room.

“You bastard,” someone said in a strangled voice, followed by more fighting.

Then an ear-piercing explosion rocketed through the apartment, followed almost instantly by another. Claire and Maggie dropped to the floor in one motion, cowering together while Maggie jostled a squirming Max.

Oh my God, they were shooting at each other!

Then the air that Maggie couldn’t seem to breathe rang with silence.

Had they left?

The sound of feet shuffling told her that at least one of the guys was still there. Then the front door banged open, followed by more silence.

Max began making puppylike sounds. Maggie cuddled him closer, trying to keep him quiet until they were certain they were alone. An eternity passed before she dared a glance at her friend. Claire was leaning against the wall still, looking toward the closet, her chest heaving up and down in shock at what had happened.

“Claire,” Maggie whispered. “Do you think they’re gone?”

When her friend didn’t respond, Maggie risked nudging her with her shoulder, more than a little worried that any second Claire would start shrieking. But her friend’s chin dropped to her chest instead. Her upper body slowly slid sideways until she was lying on the floor. Blood smeared the wall behind her.

“Oh my God!” Maggie whispered, panic hammering through her. She jerked a glance toward the open closet door, zeroing in on the hole where a bullet had torn through the wall and then slammed into her friend. “Claire!”

Maggie couldn’t manage anything louder than a whisper, even though she was freaking out inside. It was all she could do not to drop the whimpering baby in her arms as she watched blood spread like tie-dye across her friend’s Atlanta Braves T-shirt.

Claire’s eyes were open. Her chest was still moving as she tried to take in air. But each breath was a struggling wheeze. Maggie scrambled closer.

“Claire, hold on.” She reached a tentative hand to touch her friend’s chalk-white cheek. The skin beneath her fingers was cold. Too cold. “I’m calling 911.”

“No…” Claire rasped before Maggie could move away. “N-No police. Get… Get Max out of here.”

“What are you talking about?” Maggie’s eyes filled at the weakness in her friend’s voice. “I’m getting you to the hospital.”

“No…” An attempt at a cough followed, then bright red blood dribbled from the corner of Claire’s mouth. “Get Max out first. Then call. I’ll be… fine…” More coughing cut her words off, each ugly sound weaker than the last. “Get Max out of here…. To my parents…like you promised.”

Maggie looked from her friend to the bright blue eyes of the squirming infant in her arms.

“Of course I’ll make sure he gets to Virginia,” she heard herself promising.

Max’s face scrunched as he revved up to start wailing. She rocked him harder, helpless to do anything else.

She’d never felt helpless before in her life.

“Please!” Claire’s hand clamped on Maggie’s arm with surprising strength. “Go… Now. What if they come back? Max can’t be here…. Not… Not safe… Sam can’t know you were here. You… You promised to help. Protect him for me, Maggie. Take care of Max….”

Claire’s hand slid to the ground. Her eyes rolled backward in a sickening glide, until her lids dropped shut.

“Claire?” Maggie knelt and felt her friend’s chest, which was thankfully still rising and falling. She pulled her hand away, only to stare at the crimson staining it. Her friend’s blood. She choked on another scream. “Claire, wake up! Claire?”

Too late, her mind chanted.

She could have stopped this last night, but now it was too late.

“Oh, God!”

Move, Maggie Rivers.

She staggered to her feet. Max’s cry sent her heart rate spiraling even higher. She returned him to his makeshift crib, his bottom hitting the pad with a squishy-diaper thud. Then she was racing through the door to find the phone in the den.

She tripped over something and landed hard on her hands and knees. Preparing to push back to her feet, she focused on the hand barely two inches from her nose. A hand grasping a gun.

In a crazy kind of slow motion she couldn’t stop, Maggie’s gaze trailed up the arm attached to the hand, finally coming to rest on the face of a man she didn’t know. A face covered with a sickening amount of blood.

Her screams joined Max’s.

She raced to the phone and dialed. What seemed like hours passed and the 911 operator still hadn’t picked up.

Why wouldn’t they pick up!

“911 Emergency,” a calm, feminine voice finally answered.

“Please,” Maggie begged through her chattering teeth. “Please… People have been shot. S-Send an ambulance.”

She recited the apartment’s location as she glanced back to the bedroom. The baby’s cries had reached ear-splitting decibels.

“And the names of the victims?” the operator asked.

“What?” Maggie stared at the clearly dead stranger on the living room’s shabby beige carpet.

Marcus.

Sam had called him Marcus, then he’d shot him. And one of the men had shot Claire.

“The victims,” the woman prompted. “I need their names.”

Get Max out of here… Not safe…Sam can’t know you were here…

“Their names?” Maggie repeated.

“Yes, names.” Suspicion crept into the woman’s voice. “Why don’t we start with yours. Is that your baby I hear crying?”

Protect him for me, Maggie…. Get Max out of here…. To my parents…like you promised.

“Miss? The paramedics are on their way. Please give me your name. How did the shootings occur?”

Maggie slammed the phone onto its receiver. Fought not to run screaming out of the apartment. She had to stay and make sure Claire was okay. She should wait for her dad’s deputies to get there.

But if she did, they’d take Max away for sure.

Protect him for me, Maggie….

She stumbled to the bedroom and found Claire still unconscious, though she was breathing. Baby Max was beside himself, demanding to be picked up. She grabbed him and knelt beside her friend.

“Claire, the ambulance is on its way.” Maggie jiggled the baby, scared out of her mind, but trying not to sound it. “Claire, can you hear me?”

No response came, only Max’s whimpers.

God, please don’t let my friend die.

This was all her fault. None of this would have happened if she’d talked to Angie, or her parents or somebody yesterday.

Get Max out of here….

She didn’t dare. Running with the baby was stupid. But she’d promised…. Once the paramedics and her dad’s deputies got there, would they really turn Max over to his local family?

Sam’s family.

Tears streaming down her face, she pulled herself together and up off the floor. Forget how sick she felt. Forget how much she wanted to hold her friend close and start sobbing right along with the baby.

Don’t be a coward, Maggie.

Don’t just stand there. Move!

Shaking, she kissed Claire’s forehead and said another quick prayer she was terrified was too little, too late. Then she did the scariest thing she’d ever done in her life.

She ran.

CHAPTER FOUR

SPENDING HIS SATURDAY OFF doing what he thought any self-respecting, stand-in parent should be doing, Tony pulled a fresh batch of laundry from the dryer. With classic rock blaring from the radio on the shelf behind the washer, he breathed in the scent of detergent and home, and shoved aside thoughts of his family’s imminent move to New York.

Last night’s dinner had been great.

It was all great.

So put Eric’s move out of your mind, man. It’s a done deal.

Except his mind didn’t clear as Billy Joel sang about a sweet girl named Virginia, as much as it shifted to thoughts of a certain chief deputy.

The softness of her lips. The fact that he felt like he belonged wherever they were, every time they were alone. The curves he’d discovered beneath her unisex clothes, filling his hands—

The side door off the kitchen crashed open.

His niece was home from wherever she’d disappeared to an hour ago. When she sped upstairs without saying hello, he dropped the towels back into the dryer and headed after her. Billy crooned that only the good died young.

Maybe he and Maggie could grab burgers and shakes for lunch. Maybe they could hang out for the rest of the day. The world would be fine again, as soon as he got his head out of his butt and stopped obsessing about things he couldn’t change. Not to mention a woman he was nuts to want in the first place.

“Mags?” He took the steps two at time. “What’s up?”

The only response was muffled shuffling from the direction of his niece’s room. Then her door slammed shut in a very un-Maggie way.

In three long strides, he was knocking.

“Maggie, you okay?” His hand hovered over the doorknob.

A mewling sound that resembled a kitten’s cry came from the other side of the door. When it turned into a full-fledged wail that most definitely wasn’t feline, he tried the knob.

It was locked.

No one locked doors around here.

“Maggie, what’s going on?”

“I… Everything’s fine.” Her voice shook with each word, what he could hear of it over the racket of an increasingly upset baby. “Um—”

“Maggie, open the door.” Tony gave up knocking and started pounding, fun afternoon plans evaporating.

He’d heard his totally together niece sound this scared only one other time. Last year, when he’d learned of her mother’s life-threatening liver condition. Maggie and Eric hadn’t been able to talk Carrinne into letting Maggie donate a portion of her liver to replace her mom’s, and it had looked for a short time like they might lose his sister-in-law. Maggie had been out-of-control angry, terrified as she’d pleaded with Carrinne to change her mind.

The same emotion owned her voice now. Something was seriously wrong.

As if the hysterical baby wasn’t clue enough.

“Open this door now, Maggie, or I swear, I’ll break it down!”

Like his niece needed a cop barreling through her door.

Sheesh, tone it down, man.

He’d had the next few weeks planned so perfectly. He was a kick-ass uncle. Maggie loved hanging out with him. Suddenly, the only ass he wanted to kick was his brother’s, for not being there to head this off.

“Come on, Mags,” Tony cajoled. “Whatever it is, I can help. And if I can’t, we’ll call your folks, and they’ll—”

“No!” The lock turned and the door was yanked open, revealing the shocking sight of his niece, her face drained of color, holding a squalling infant. Her friend’s baby, if Tony didn’t miss his guess.

“Why do you have Max?” he asked. “Is Claire—”

He’d been about to say okay, when the splashes of color marring the front of Maggie’s white T-shirt hit home.

“Oh my God, you’re bleeding,” he managed to say as the floor sank beneath him.

He backed her unresisting body toward the bed and gently pushed her and the baby down. Without taking his hand off Maggie’s shoulder, he grabbed the portable phone from a nearby table. He misdialed three times.

“Lie down. Don’t move. I’ll have an ambulance here in a few min—”

“No!” Maggie whipped the phone out of his hand and jumped to her feet. Terminating the call, she threw the receiver across the room. Life sparked back into her eyes. A touch of color warmed her cheeks. “I’m fine. It’s not my blood. It’s… It’s… I’m fine.”

“Whose blood is it, Maggie?” She couldn’t have moved so quickly if she were seriously injured. What he’d thought was fresh blood was actually dried. His panic yielded to a flurry of questions. “What the hell’s going on? Where’s Claire? Why do you have Max?”

“I…I was…” Tears filled her eyes. That strong chin that was so much like his and his brother’s began to wobble. “Please, Tony. You have to help me. Claire’s hurt…. And she made me promise to get Max to her parents in Virginia…. I can’t let Sam’s family have him…. And the…there was this guy on the floor, and…and I think he’s dead…. He…Sam shot him, and he could have come back at any minute, so I called the ambulance and…and then I ran….”

She was pacing with the crying baby now—his nineteen-year-old niece, saying things straight out of his nightmares. Tony could only stare in silence as he processed the jumbled images her words painted. Then she stopped and brought the hand not holding Max to her mouth.

“Tony, she’s hurt so bad. Claire… They shot her….”

Rousing himself into motion, he made Maggie sit on the edge of the bed again. Max’s wails were winding down, thank the heavens above. His tiny head was nestled in the crook of her neck as he whimpered. Tony left the baby there, even though his training told him Maggie should be lying down until some of her shock wore off.

Her shock?

Holy hell. He pulled her and the baby into a fierce hug, tamping down the urge to fire another string of questions his niece was in no shape to answer.

She was safe. She was okay. And by God, he was going to keep her that way.

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to let anything happen to you or Max,” he promised.

As a matter of fact, he wasn’t letting her out of his sight, at least not until he got his brother back here to sort this out. He left the bed long enough to retrieve the phone from the corner.

“I’m calling Angie. She’s on duty this morning, and she’ll—”

“No!” Maggie was up again, shaking until her teeth chattered. She pointed a determined finger at him. “Call anyone, and I swear I’m out of here. No one can know I have Max. No one can know we were there. If you call Angie, she’ll have to turn the baby over to someone, most likely Sam’s family, and I promised Claire…” Maggie’s face crumpled at the mention of her friend. “I promised her I wouldn’t let that happen. Please, Tony. Please don’t call Angie. You said you’d help me. Please…”

Tony looked from the receiver to Maggie. She was gumption and brains at their brightest. And like her mother, she didn’t know how to fall apart. But at the moment, the niece who’d laid claim to his supposedly shallow heart looked every bit the vulnerable teenager she still was.

She was terrified. And though he couldn’t follow half of what she’d said, he understood enough to be scared for both her and her friend. Maggie had witnessed a shooting at the very least. It sounded like two people were injured, if not dead. At Sam Walker’s hand?

“I have to call this in, Maggie. You’re in danger, and Claire might be seriously hurt—”

“No!” She made a ridiculous attempt to take the phone away from him again. “I called 911 before I left. Angie or someone else is already there by now. Please, help me get Max away from Oakwood.”

“Away to where? Tell me what’s going—”

The doorbell’s chime cut him off.

Maggie flinched, glancing nervously over her shoulder then back at Tony.

“Ignore it,” he groused. But the bell rang again for a longer stretch. “Damn it, who—”

She grabbed his arm. “No one can know Max is here.”

“It’s not that simple, Maggie!”

More ringing sounded, over and over this time. The baby started fussing, another tantrum threatening.

“Ah, hell.” Tony ran a hand through his hair, shoved the phone at his niece and pointed to the bed. “Park your butt there, and don’t even think about moving it until I get back.”

He trudged toward the stairs.

“Tony, you won’t—”

“Sit!” he said, louder than he’d intended.

But it got the desired effect. His niece swallowed, then she sank to the edge of the bed. Her silence, the sadness and fear clinging to her as clearly as the baby in her arms, made it almost impossible for him to walk away. But whoever was at the door showed no sign of letting up.

The trek down the stairs didn’t leave him nearly enough time to piece together Maggie’s scraps of information. Insistent knocking had replaced the bell by the time he yanked the weathered front door open.

“Angie.” He blinked as the very person he’d been determined to call materialized on his welcome mat.

Relief flooded him at the sight of her sweet face. Then her harried expression, the way she gazed over his shoulder, hit him upside the head with the reality of what must have brought her there.

“Is Maggie home?” she asked at the same moment that the baby squealed upstairs. “There’s been an incident with her friend Claire.”

CHAPTER FIVE

PLEASE LET MAGGIE BE TUCKED safely in bed.

Angie hadn’t stopped repeating the simple plea the entire drive over. Dressed for the job, she’d been on her way in for duty when the traffic from the 911 call had come over her receiver. Then her cell phone had begun ringing nonstop.

She’d had two options. Head to the scene through the early morning fog, when there were already deputies en route. Or do what she should have done last night—follow her hunch that Maggie Rivers and Claire Morton were flirting with trouble, and pay a visit to the Rivers house.

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