# Defender for Hire

Shirlee McCoy

No matter how many times Tessa Camry moves, her mysterious tormentor always finds her…and leaves a grim reminder of all she’s lost.But this year, no longer content to deliver roses, her stalker wants her dead. When former Army Ranger Seth Sinclair becomes her bodyguard, he encourages her to stand her ground, even if it means letting go of long-held secrets.Seth realizes that Tessa may be his second chance at love, but their future depends on finding the man determined that Tessa never forgets the past…

SOMEONE WAS WATCHING HER…

No matter how many times Tessa Camry moves, her mysterious tormentor always finds her…and leaves a grim reminder of all she’s lost. But this year, no longer content to deliver roses, her stalker wants her dead. When former army ranger Seth Sinclair becomes her bodyguard, he encourages her to stand her ground, even if it means letting go of long-held secrets. Seth realizes that Tessa may be his second chance at love, but their future depends on finding the man determined that Tessa never forgets the past….

Heroes for Hire: Seeking the truth—at any cost.

“Someone is after you, Tess.

And I think you know who it is.”

“I don’t!” she protested.

Seth studied her silently, his eyes cold. “We’re dealing with a guy who sneaks around to do his dirty work. Someone who wants the world to see him one way, but who isn’t what he seems. A charlatan. Sound familiar?”

She almost said it didn’t, because no one in her present life was like that.

But there was someone from her past.

An upright citizen on the surface but as evil as they came where it counted the most.

Tessa stepped away from him, trying to clear her mind before she opened her mouth and changed her life forever.

“What are you thinking?” Seth asked. He could tell she was right on the edge of telling him something—something big.

“You just described my…”

“Your husband?”

SHIRLEE McCOY

has always loved making up stories. As a child, she daydreamed elaborate tales in which she was the heroine—gutsy, strong and invincible. Though she soon grew out of her superhero fantasies, her love for storytelling never diminished. She knew early that she wanted to write inspirational fiction, and she began writing her first novel when she was a teenager. Still, it wasn’t until her third son was born that she truly began pursuing her dream of being published. Three years later, she sold her first book. Now a busy mother of five, Shirlee is a homeschooling mom by day and an inspirational author by night. She and her husband and children live in the Pacific Northwest and share their house with a dog, two cats and a bird. You can visit her website, www.shirleemccoy.com, or email her at shirlee@shirleemccoy.com.

Defender

for Hire

Shirlee McCoy


www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For nothing is hidden, except to be revealed; nor has anything been secret, but that it would come to light.

—Mark 4:22

To my family, because they know me well

and love me anyway.

Contents

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

DEAR READER

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION

ONE

Black.

Not the color of love, friendship, admiration.

The color of sorrow and death.

Tessa Camry lifted the single long-stemmed rose from the hood of her car and tossed it into her yard.

Five years.

Five black roses.

She glanced around the quiet neighborhood and saw nothing out of place. She never did. One rose every year to remind her. That was it. As if she needed anything to keep the memories from dying.

She slid into her Ford Mustang, backing down the long driveway, her skin crawling. Five towns. Five states. And still the flower had found her. She’d come to expect that it would, but that didn’t mean she was happy about it.

“It’s not like you went to a lot of effort to hide,” she muttered, her words echoing hollowly in the car.

True. She hadn’t been hiding, but she hadn’t announced her location, either. No Christmas cards or phone calls—no contact with anyone from the past. Nothing to tie her to her college years, her married years.

The mission trip.

She shoved the thought away, checking her mirror several times as she made her way along the winding country road. Not a car in sight, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the person who had left the rose was following her; that the past was running toward her and one day it might catch hold and refuse to let go.

She shuddered as she pulled into the nearly empty parking lot of Centennial Physical Therapy. The small white building gleamed in the early morning sunlight. Tessa had been working there part-time as a physical therapist for five months. She didn’t need the money—she needed the distraction.

And today, she needed it more than ever.

She jumped out of the car and jogged to the small reception area, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. The memories were too close, and she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in her work. To forget what day it was, bury what had happened five years ago in flurry of activity that would exhaust her.

“Finally!” Dana Langtry looked up from the computer. Small and compact, her blond hair cropped short, Dana was energetic, efficient and friendly. She was also blunt and tough—a good combination for a physical therapist’s assistant.

“I’m fifteen minutes early,” Tessa pointed out as she went through the motions of shrugging out of her coat and pulling her hair into a ponytail, trying to pretend it was any other day rather than the day.

“Well, our first patient beat you by ten minutes.” Dana handed Tessa a clipboard with the patient’s chart.

“This is the new client that called last week, right?”

“Yes. I put him in room one.” Dana glanced over her shoulder, then leaned close. “And, just between you and me, I think he looks like trouble.”

“How so?” Tessa asked absently, her heart still thumping too hard, her pulse thrumming in the aftermath of her frantic drive from home.

“Just a vibe that I’m getting.” Dana lowered her voice a notch. “Too bad Sam isn’t here. I’d rather he deal with the guy.”

“I’ll be fine, Dana.” The last thing she needed was Sam Marne coming to the office to take a patient that he’d assigned to her. Sam had opened Centennial Physical Therapy five years ago and had slowly been building his clientele since then. The fact that he’d needed help at the same time that Tessa had wanted a part-time job had worked out well for both of them, and Tessa had no intention of messing with the arrangement.

“Probably, but I could just call Sam and—”

“It’s his day off. If we call him in, he won’t have any use for me, and I’ll be out of a job.” Tessa forced a smile as she glanced through the chart. Seth Sinclair. 34. Recovering from shoulder surgery.

“I still think we should call him,” Dana huffed.

“I’ve been a physical therapist for a long time, and I’ve dealt with a lot of patients who look like trouble. There’s no reason to call for backup,” Tessa responded. “Besides, Darius Osborne referred the guy. He wouldn’t have done it if he thought the man was a serial killer.”

Darius, a childhood friend, was the reason Tessa had moved to Pine Bluff, Washington. She’d attended his wedding the year before and fallen in love with the area. After so many years of wandering, it had seemed like the perfect place to settle for good.

Now, it just felt like another pit stop.

“I didn’t say he was a serial killer. I said he was trouble,” Dana protested, glancing over her shoulder again. Obviously, the guy had her spooked, but Tessa had dealt with a lot worse than troublesome patients in her life.

“I’ll holler if I need help,” she joked as she walked down the narrow hall.

Her smile fell away as soon as she was out of Dana’s sight. She didn’t feel like joking. She felt like going home, packing her things and leaving town. She was tired of moving, though. Too many places, too many faces, all of it fuzzy and muddied by her constant need to outrun the past.

She wanted to put down roots, but maybe that dream—the one she’d been holding on to since her parents had passed away when she was ten—had died with Daniel.

She knocked on the door to room one, pushing it open without waiting for a response.

“Good morning—” She glanced at the chart as she stepped into the room. “Seth. I’m Tessa Camry.”

“Ma’am.” One gruff word, tinged with a hint of Southern charm.

She looked up from the chart into the most amazingly blue eyes she’d ever seen.

Seth’s face didn’t match his voice. There was no charm there, not even a hint of a smile. Just dark blond hair, those blue, blue eyes and a faint scar that ran from his ear to under his chin. Another scar edged his hairline, deep purple and much newer than the first one.

Dana had been right. He looked like trouble, but Tessa couldn’t pinpoint why. Aside from the scars and the unusual color of his eyes, he was average—average build, average features, nondescript hair. Better than average muscle tone, though. She could see that in the corded strength of his shoulders and biceps.

She looked at the chart again. Better to focus on that than her new patient’s bulging muscles.

“You’re a friend of Darius’s, right?” she asked, hoping she’d get more out of him than another ma’am.

“We’re coworkers,” he explained.

“So, you’re in the private security sector?” She met his eyes and was shocked again by the vivid color of his irises.

“That’s right.”

“You work as a bodyguard?”

“I work as whatever my boss asks me to be. Until my shoulder heals, that’s desk duty.”

He didn’t smile, but she had the distinct impression that he was amused—by her or the conversation or whatever situation had put him on desk duty.

She took a seat in one of two chairs next to the exam table and motioned for him to do the same. “I take it you’d like to get back to a more active job. Let’s come up with a plan to make that happen.”

“The sooner the better,” he murmured, dropping into the other chair, his legs stretched out so that his feet were almost touching Tessa’s.

She didn’t shift away, but she wanted to. At first glance, she’d thought Seth was average, but the more she studied him, the more obvious it became that he was anything but that.

Maybe Dana had been right. Maybe he was going to be trouble.

She frowned, thumbing through his paperwork and reading the information he’d provided. There wasn’t much. A shoulder injury that had required extensive surgery and therapy. A concussion. He’d marked a level seven pain in the affected shoulder and shaded a pain-point indicator through the shoulder and up into the neck, but he hadn’t specified a cause for the injury.

“Were you in a car accident?” she asked, glancing up and straight into his eyes. Blue flecked with silver and rimmed with thick gold lashes.

“No.”

“Sports injury?”

“No.”

“I could spend the rest of the day guessing, or you could just tell me what happened and save us both some time.”

He smiled, amusement flashing in his eyes.

“You know, Tessa, I think we’re going to get along just fine,” he said, leaning forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. “Here’s the deal. I was in Afghanistan. My convoy was attacked and my shoulder got blown to bits. I came back to the States, had surgery and then rehabbed for a year.”

“How long ago was that?” Tessa asked, making a production of taking notes because she didn’t want to look in his eyes again. He was way more than she’d thought when she’d first seen him. Way more...interesting. Today of all days, she didn’t want to notice.

Shouldn’t notice.

“The first injury? Two years ago. I completed rehab a year ago and started working for Personal Securities Incorporated six months after that.”

“When did the reinjury occur?”

“A couple of weeks ago. One of my clients was attacked, and I stepped in.” He shrugged as if it hadn’t been a big deal, but Tessa had a feeling it had.

“Did you have an X-ray or MRI?”

“Both. Everything is clear. My doctor thinks it’s just pulled muscles and inflammation from old scar tissue.”

“Let’s check your range of motion. Go ahead and sit on the table.”

He nodded, moving silently and easily, his white T-shirt skimming firm muscles and a flat abdomen. He wore black gym shorts and running shoes, and his left knee was crisscrossed with scars and swollen above the patella.

“Looks like your knee is bothering you, too.”

“If we tried to fix all my problems, we’d be here for the rest of the day. How about we just concentrate on the shoulder?” His tone was easy, but there was an edge of steel in it.

“It’s all connected. If one thing is out of alignment, the rest of the body suffers.” She put a hand on his elbow, maneuvering his arm in the damaged socket. “Does this hurt?”

“Yes.” He didn’t wince, though, and there was no hint of pain in his voice or eyes.

“Mind if I take a look at the surgery scar?” She rolled up his sleeve, but could see only the edge of the scar, still deep purple and angry-looking.

“This doesn’t look two years old.”

“I’ve had two surgeries since the first one.”

“You should have mentioned that before we started.” She frowned and jotted a note in his file. “When was the last surgery?”

“Eight months ago.”

“Your surgeon?”

“Guy on the East Coast.” He offered the name, and she jotted that down, too.

“Okay. Let’s work through a few exercises, see how far we can push things without making them worse.”

“Sounds good.” He flashed a smile.

Despite the quick grin, Tessa had the feeling that Seth was assessing her. Whatever conclusions he was coming to, he kept them well hidden as she worked him through a series of exercises.

Thirty minutes later, sweat beaded his brow and his muscles were taut with effort, but he didn’t say a word about pain or discomfort. He seemed determined to push through whatever he was feeling.

“That’s good.” Tessa put a hand on his arm, stopping him before he could begin another rep. “We don’t want to overstress the joint or cause more pain than you’re already in.”

“I’m good.”

“No, you’re not. You’re pushing too hard. That’s only going to lengthen the recovery process. Lie down.” She patted the exam table. “I’ll have Dana come in and start some heat and stimulation while I print out exercises you can do at home.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?” Seth asked, standing up and stretching despite her instructions.

His question surprised a laugh out of her.

“More than one person. I took it as a compliment every time.”

“This should be an interesting relationship, then.” He used the hem of his shirt to wipe sweat from his brow and, without a smile, aimed his blue eyes straight at her. “I need to run. We can try heat and stim next time.”

She didn’t argue. Seth had to make the commitment to his recovery, and he had to be the one to follow through on it. “That’s fine. I’ll want to see you twice a week for at least a month. Why don’t you set that up with Dana? I’ll print out the exercises and meet you up front.”

She tossed the words over her shoulder as she walked into the hall.

“Tessa!” Dana hurried toward her, a small package in her hand. “Are you finished?”

“Yes. I want to see him twice a week for the next few weeks. Can you set that up?”

“No problem. But, before I do, this was sitting on the reception desk when I got back from bringing Ms. Edna to room 3.” She held up the package as if she’d just won the lottery.

“What’s in it?” Tessa asked, impatient to move on to the next client. Like Seth, Edna was early, and that suited Tessa just fine. Keeping busy would keep the memories at bay, and she needed that.

“I don’t know. It’s addressed to you. Why don’t you open it and find out?” Dana thrust the package into Tessa’s hands, the brown paper packaging cool and a little rough. A white envelope was taped to the top, Tessa’s name scrawled across it in bold black letters.

“So...” Dana leaned close, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Who’s it from? A boyfriend? A secret admirer?”

“No to both,” Tessa responded, her gaze jumping to Seth’s room. He stood in the open doorway, his good shoulder resting against the doorjamb, his arms crossed over his chest. Even his forearms were well muscled.

She pulled her gaze away, focusing on the package again. “I’ll open it later. I need to print a couple of things for Seth. Set up his next few appointments, okay? Then run the sonogram on Edith’s knee. We’ll start her on the treadmill when you’re finished.”

She didn’t wait for Dana’s response, just hurried into Sam’s oversize office. As a part-time employee, she didn’t have her own space, but Sam had given her free use of his.

She set the package on his desk, doing her best to ignore it as she booted up the computer and found the exercises she wanted to print. No one sent her packages. Getting one on the fifth anniversary of Daniel’s death seemed...ominous.

She shut the thought down, jotting a few notes in Seth’s file as the printer ran. Crisp winter sun poured in through the window behind her. But it couldn’t warm the chill that filled her heart.

Five years, but she could still hear the wails of terrified children, still feel the blazing African sun, still smell the blood.

She gagged, stepping away from the desk and the package, and wishing she could step away from the memories.

Just then, the package moved, something inside of it scratching against the box. Tessa jumped back, knocked into a rock-hard chest and swung around, a scream dying on her lips as she looked into Seth’s vivid-blue eyes.

“Careful.”

Seth held his newest physical therapist’s arm and looked into her misty-green eyes. Her skin had gone three shades of pale, and she looked as if she was about to jump out of her skin. Based on the way she was eyeing the package Dana had handed her, he’d say it had something to do with whatever was in it.

“You’re supposed to be setting up appointments with Dana,” she snapped, her eyes flashing with irritation and something else. Something that looked an awful lot like fear.

Leave it alone, his brain warned, but he’d never been all that good at taking orders.

“I already did. Now I need the printouts so I can get on with my day.” He touched the box, his curiosity piqued. “What’s this?”

“A wrapped box,” she responded dryly, grabbing a few pages from a printer and thrusting them toward him. “Here are the exercises. I’ll see you next week.”

Her dismissal couldn’t have been more obvious, but Seth wasn’t quite ready to go. Tessa and her mystery box were way more interesting than desk duty, and that’s what he’d be heading for when he left her office.

He tucked the printouts into his coat pocket and lifted the box. It was light and just a little off balance, as if whatever was in it fit in one corner, leaving the rest of the space empty.

“Put that down,” she said without looking away from her computer.

“You seem a little jumpy about it.”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about.” She reached for the package, her fingers brushing the paper. Something skittered along the bottom of the box. Seth felt the movement through cardboard and paper. Tessa must have, too. She jerked her hand back.

He set the box down. “There’s something alive in here.”

Tessa made no move to lift it. “It seems that way.”

“You don’t know what it is?”

“No.” She tucked a loose strand of deep red hair behind her ear and sighed. “Look, Seth, I don’t want to be rude, but I have another patient waiting and—”

“Dana is in with her.” He lifted the box again, examining the envelope taped to its top. “There’s no return address. It’s not even postmarked. Someone hand delivered it.”

“You’re probably right.” Tessa didn’t seem impressed by his deductive reasoning, and she didn’t look happy that he hadn’t left. She didn’t reach for the box, though, and he thought that she’d be relieved if he took the initiative and looked inside.

“I spent a fair amount of time in the desert, and I’ve dealt with a lot of critters. Why don’t you let me see what’s in here? If it’s something you don’t want, I’ll dispose of it.”

“What if it’s a snake?” she asked, hovering close to Seth’s side. He could feel the heat of her arm through his coat sleeve, could smell a hint of vanilla in the air.

“The box isn’t big enough. Besides, snakes don’t skitter. They slide.”

“How...comforting.” She offered a brief smile, a dimple flashing in her left cheek.

“I don’t mind snakes,” he said, pulling the envelope from the box and handing it to Tessa. “It’s scorpions I despise.”

“I’ll take a scorpion over a cobra any day of the week.” She ripped the envelope open and pulled out a white note card.

“What’s it say?”

“Today’s date.” She turned it over so that he could see the numbers scrawled in thick, black marker.

“Maybe there’s a note in the box.” He pulled out his utility knife and eased the tip under the wrapping paper. “Better tell me now if you don’t want me to do this.”

She remained silent, and he slid the knife blade under the box lid.

“What if it jumps out at you?” Tessa moved closer, her shoulder pressed against his arm.

His muscles tensed in response. Dormant memories sprang to life of a hundred moments spent with the only woman he’d ever loved.

He forced them away and flipped the box lid up. Better to look in the box than to look at the past.

“What is—”

Tessa’s voice trailed off as two long, brown legs reached over the side of the box, the hairy exoskeleton as recognizable as it was surprising. Seth had seen his share of tarantulas. This one was bigger than most, its legs retreating as it scurried into a corner of its prison. A white envelope lay beneath it.

Seth reached to retrieve it, but Tessa grabbed his arm. “Just leave it.”

“Don’t you want to know who it’s from?”

“It was sent to me by mistake.”

“Your name was on the box.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of people in the world with my name.” She smiled, but her face had gone paper-white again, her eyes emerald against the pallor.

“You’re scared.”

“I don’t like spiders any more than I like snakes.”

“I don’t think that’s the reason.” He shut the box lid, leaned his hip against the desk. “I think you should call the police, and let them know that this was sent to you.”

“It’s not illegal to give someone a tarantula.” She rounded the desk, pulled masking tape from a drawer and taped down the box lid. “I’ll take this guy to the pet store this afternoon. Someone will want it, right?” Her hands and voice were steady, and her expression neutral, but the fear in her eyes gave her away.

He took the box from her.

“I’ll take care of it. See you next week, Tessa.” He walked into the hallway, feeling the giant spider moving around inside the box in his hand.

Tessa didn’t follow.

He wasn’t surprised.

And he wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up for his appointment next week and she wasn’t there.

He knew all about having secrets.

Tessa could keep hers, but he was just curious enough to take a look at whatever lay at the bottom of the box. Tessa might not have wanted to know who’d sent it, but Seth did. Just in case the spider wasn’t the last of the gifts.

Just in case there was trouble.

And generally, when it came to Seth’s life, there usually was.

TWO

Go. Don’t look back...

The words echoed through Tessa’s mind as she ran up the steep hill that overlooked her house. Sweat slipped down her neck and pooled in the hollow of her throat, her breath heaving as she crested the rise and headed down the path that led to the Spokane River. Her dog, Bentley, panted along beside her, his muscular body relaxed, his one good ear upright. At nearly a hundred pounds, the huge mutt was large enough to discourage unwanted attention. He was also smart and alert enough to warn her of danger.

She’d chosen him for that and for his sweet, goofy ugliness. Long black fur over a homely face, one blue eye and one brown, he’d been abused by a previous owner but had still had the exuberance of a puppy when she’d found him at a shelter two years ago.

And now it was the five-year anniversary of Daniel’s and Andrew’s murders.

Don’t look back.

But how could she not when everything she loved was in the past?

She picked up her pace, running until her muscles cramped and her body ached. Finally, she couldn’t run another step and she pressed her elbows to her knees, trying to catch her breath.

Darkness had fallen, purple-black and thick. No moon. No streetlights. Just the Spokane River lapping softly at its banks and the distant lights of the city hinting at civilization. Dear God, how she wished she could find a place she could stay for longer than a few months or a year.

She straightened, a half-formed prayer nudging at the back of her mind, a cry from the heart that she didn’t want to acknowledge. God hadn’t answered her prayers five years ago, and she didn’t expect Him to now. She didn’t even want to bring her hopes and dreams before Him because she’d been devastated when He hadn’t answered before, despondent when everything she’d ever cared about had been yanked away.

She couldn’t lay the responsibility for that in God’s hands, but she couldn’t take it out of His hands, either. He could have changed things, could have saved her husband and brother-in-law or taken her with them.

She still didn’t understand why He hadn’t.

“Come on, Bentley. Let’s go home,” she said, hoping that her voice would chase away the melancholy mood. Every year, she got the rose. Every year she felt this way.

This year had been different, though.

This year, she’d gotten the spider.

Despite what she’d told Seth, she didn’t think it had been sent by mistake. Someone knew that her brother-in-law had kept a pet tarantula when they were on mission to Kenya. Someone had wanted to remind her of that.

As if she needed any reminders.

Her legs trembled as she jogged back up the hill and into the deep woods that separated her from home. Sweat cooled on her cheeks and she shivered. Early November, and the temperature was already in the thirties. This would be her first winter in eastern Washington. If she stayed.

Five years. Five towns.

Soon, it would be six, then seven and eight.

How many before she could finally stop running?

Bentley growled low in his throat, tugging furiously against the leash. It almost slipped from Tessa’s grip, and she tightened her hold.

“What is it, Bentley?”

The dog growled again, his muscles taut, his body angled to the left. The night was silent and heavy, the woods and path still, but something whispered through the darkness, a quiet breath of movement that rustled the thick carpet of dry leaves.

“Hello?” Tessa called, her heart slamming against her ribs, her body numb with terror. She’d never felt as if she were in danger before—the roses had always seemed like a reminder of what would happen if she ever told the world the truth, which of course, she wouldn’t. She had Daniel’s legacy to protect. The work they’d done together, the children and villagers that they’d helped. She wouldn’t risk those things.

Bentley let out a sharp warning, and she knew she’d better heed it. She pivoted away from the deep shadows, racing down the path toward home, Bentley lunging against her hold, snarling as he tried to get at whatever was coming up behind them.

Branches snapped, leaves crackled, feet pounded. Hers? Someone else’s?

Pop!

Something whizzed through the darkness and Bentley yelped, stumbling. Tessa turned and saw something coming toward them. Black and broad against the navy sky, swooping in. She screamed, dropping the leash as Bentley snarled again and tried to run.

Another high pitched yelp, and then silence except for Tessa’s ragged breaths and the thud of her pulse in her ears. Something slammed into her back and she fell hard, her hands and knees skidding across leaves and dirt, her mind sliding back five years. A tiny hut on the outskirts of a Kenyan village. Screams and terror and Daniel whispering for her to run.

She tried to shut it out, shut it off, force her mind and her body back to the present moment and the fight, but hands were around her throat, lips pressing close to her ear.

“I haven’t forgotten. Have you?”

How could I? She wanted to ask, but she had no air, no thoughts. Blackness edged in, and she bucked against her captor, trying to use her weight to throw him off.

She had no strength.

Bentley snarled, the sound echoing in Tessa’s ears.

Run! she wanted to shout. Go home!

Her attacker’s hands tightened, then released. Gone. As if he had never been there at all.

Tessa wasn’t sure if she was in the past or the present. In Africa or Pine Bluff. Didn’t know if she was hurt or okay. Silence settled as thick as the darkness that pressed in all around her. She drifted in it, cold seeping through her clothes and settling in her bones.

Bentley whimpered, his nose nudging her cheek before he collapsed beside her.

She reached for him, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Warm fur, and something sticky and wet. Blood?

She had to get him home.

Had to call the police and get help.

First, she had to move.

She rolled to her side and pushed up to her knees, touching Bentley’s silky head. “We need to get out of here.”

She stood, her legs shaking, and Bentley struggled to his feet, huffing quietly in the darkness. He limped beside her as they maneuvered down the steep path.

She pulled out her cell phone and called 911, her voice raw as she explained the situation and gave her address. Her throat ached, her head pounded and she shivered with cold and fear, but Bentley was her first priority.

She disconnected, cutting the 911 operator off midsentence and dialing Bentley’s veterinarian. Dr. Amy Spenser was almost as new to Pine Bluff as Tessa was. Neither of them had family or kids, and it had seemed natural to strike up a friendship. They’d gone shopping for furniture together, accepting that each had her secrets and a limit to how deep a connection she wanted to make.

“Hello?” Amy answered on the first ring, her voice soft and smooth with just a hint of an accent.

“It’s Tessa. Bentley’s been hurt.” Tessa didn’t have time for long explanations. Sirens were already blaring through the quiet night. Tessa’s house loomed ahead, lights shining out from every window. Since Daniel’s murder, she always left the lights on. Tonight, she was more than grateful for the habit.

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. We were out on a run and someone attacked me. Bentley tried to help...” She recalled the pop and Bentley’s whimper. Tried to make sense of it. “He may have been shot.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be at your place in ten minutes.” Amy hung up, and Tessa shoved the phone back into the pocket of her running vest.

“You’ll be okay, boy,” she murmured, more to reassure herself than Bentley. He limped beside her, slower than usual, but still moving.

That had to be a good sign.

Didn’t it?

The woods opened out into her backyard, the long expanse of grass unobstructed by trees or shrubs. No sign of anyone lurking nearby, but her heart raced as she urged Bentley across the half-acre lot.

She rounded the side of the house and froze as Bentley barked.

A man sat in the old porch swing, his dark blond hair gleaming in the porch light, his scarred face familiar.

Seth Sinclair.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, taking a quick step back.

Seth watched Tessa back away from the porch and from him. The sirens he’d been hearing for the past few minutes grew louder, the sound blaring though the darkness.

“I brought the tarantula to the pet store.” He held up the white envelope he’d come to deliver. “I thought you might want this.”

“Just leave it on the swing.” She eyed him warily, her hand clutching the leash of an oversize dog. Loose hair fell across her cheeks but didn’t hide what looked like bruises on her neck.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Seth stood slowly, afraid if he moved too quickly, she’d run. “What happened?” he asked, walking down the porch stairs, the sirens still screaming.

“We ran into some trouble in the woods.”

Seth thought they’d run into more than “some trouble.” Tessa’s running pants were ripped at the knee, her vest covered with dead leaves. “You need to sit down before you fall down.”

He touched her arm, and she jerked back, her eyes wide with fear. “Who gave you my address, Seth?”

“I asked around. It wasn’t difficult to find you in a town this size.” He took her arm as gently as he could and tried to urge her up the porch stairs, but she held her ground.

“You can go home. Bentley and I will be fine.” She tugged at the dog’s leash, calling to him as she tried to walk to the house.

The dog whined but refused to move.

“He’s hurt,” Seth pointed out, though he was sure that Tessa already knew it.

“The vet is on the way.” Her voice sounded hollow, her face so white, he thought she might collapse.

He needed to get her inside, and he needed to do it now. He crouched next to the dog and let Bentley sniff his hand. He’d seen some homely mutts before, but Tessa’s was about as ugly as they came. Ugly and huge.

“Come on, boy. Let’s get you inside where it’s safe.” He slid his arms under the dog and was rewarded with a sloppy kiss that he would have wiped away if he’d had a free hand.

“You can’t carry him. You’ll hurt your shoulder,” Tessa protested.

“It’s already hurt,” he grunted, the strain of the hundred-pound dog dragging at his injured arm. “And if you don’t open the door so I can get inside now, it’s going to hurt more.”

She frowned, but ran to the door. Dirt clung to her pants and her down vest. Her elbow peeked through a rip in her long sleeved T-shirt, the skin raw and bleeding. She was worried about her dog’s well-being—Seth was worried about her.

She ushered him through a large foyer and into a nearly empty living room. A dark brown couch stood against a wall and a rocking chair sat in front of a fireplace. A throw rug in muted greens and blues lay in the middle of the floor. No coffee table. No shelves. No books or magazines or photographs. A blank slate with cream-colored walls and dark wood trim.

“You can put him on the couch,” Tessa said, her voice trembling. “He’s bleeding. I really hope his vet gets here soon.”

He placed the dog on the couch and took Tessa’s arm. “Let’s worry about you now, okay? Sit,” he commanded, leading her to the rocking chair.

“The police—”

“I’ll handle it,” he cut in.

She leaned her head back against the rocking chair and closed her eyes.

“For the record,” she murmured, “I’m not good at taking orders.”

“I’m not ordering. I’m helping. But I’ll keep that in mind for the future.” He pulled a throw from the back of the rocking chair and tucked it around her. She still smelled like vanilla, under the musty aroma of earth, dead leaves and fear.

He shoved the envelope he’d brought her into his pocket and opened the front door, waiting impatiently as a police car pulled up in front of the house.

Seth knew the officer who got out of the car. Deputy Sheriff Logan Randal had a reputation for fairness and a drive for justice. Seth had worked with him on a few occasions, and he had a lot of respect for the guy.

“We got a call that someone was assaulted?” Randal asked as he approached the house, his eyes narrowing at Seth. “What are you doing here, Sinclair?”

“I know the home owner.”

“You’re the boyfriend?”

“No, he’s not my boyfriend.” Tessa edged in beside Seth, her shoulder brushing his arm. “Not that that has anything to do with what happened.”

“It has a lot to do with it, ma’am. Most victims know their attacker.” Randal moved forward, forcing them both to step back into the foyer.

“I didn’t know mine,” Tessa insisted.

“How about we sit down, and you can explain what happened?” Randal suggested. He placed a hand on Tessa’s shoulder and led her down the wide hall.

Seth could have taken that has his cue to leave, but Randal would want to interview him when he finished with Tessa.

That was as good an excuse as any to follow them into a large kitchen. Like the living room, it was pristine and nearly empty, the walls light yellow, the cupboards bright white. A small round table sat in the center of the oversize room, four chairs positioned at perfect intervals around it.

Randal pulled one out for Tessa and motioned for her to sit, his gaze on Seth.

“If you want to go home, I can send an officer to your place,” he suggested.

“I don’t mind waiting.” As a matter of fact, Seth was set on sticking around. He didn’t know what had happened out in the woods, but it was obvious Tess was in trouble. It wasn’t his problem, but if he could help out, he planned to.

“Then how about you wait in the living room or in your car? Another officer should be here shortly. He’ll take your statement if I’m not finished with Tessa by then.”

“How long will this take? My dog is injured, and I need to make sure he’s seen by the vet,” Tess cut in, her fingers tapping against the tabletop.

“You said the vet was on the way,” Seth reminded her.

She nodded. “She is, but I don’t want Bentley to injure himself more while he’s waiting.”

“I’ll wait with him,” Seth offered.

That would make Tessa and Randal happy. Seth wasn’t so sure it would make him happy. He wanted to know what had happened to Tessa, and he wanted to know who to blame. Tessa had been quick to deny knowledge of her attacker, but that didn’t mean she’d been attacked by a stranger.

He fingered the envelope, half tempted to toss it on the kitchen table and let Tessa explain who it was from and how it was possible that the tarantula and the attack weren’t connected.

He’d wait, though. Give her a chance to tell Randal what she needed to. She was almost a stranger, after all, and he had no right to barge into her life and take control.

That’s what his sister, Piper, would probably say. His three brothers would have a different view of the situation.

But Tessa’s opinion was all that mattered. She’d tell the deputy sheriff what she needed to. With or without Seth’s prodding.

He hoped.

The doorbell rang as he walked into the living room, and the front door swung open. A mousy brunette rushed inside. She glanced in Seth’s direction, her gaze dropping to Bentley, who lay still and quiet on the sofa.

She hurried to the dog’s side, putting her hand on his head, sliding it down toward an area on Bentley’s haunch that was glossy and slick with blood. “Where’s Tessa?”

“Speaking with the police.”

“I’m Amy Spenser. Bentley’s veterinarian.” She opened the dog’s mouth, examined his gums. “He’s in shock. I’m going to have to take him to the clinic. Tessa!” she called, her attention focused on the dog, her dark eyes nearly hidden behind the thick lenses of her glasses.

“Right here.” Tessa hurried into the room with Deputy Sheriff Randal right behind her.

Amy’s gaze cut from one to the other, then settled on Tessa. “I’m going to take him to the clinic and start some fluids. You said you thought he was shot?”

“I heard a pop. Nothing like other gunfire I’ve heard, but I don’t know what else it could have been.” Tessa touched the dog’s scruffy chin, her red hair sliding over her shoulder, nearly hiding the bruises on her neck.

“If it’s a gunshot wound, the perpetrator might have used a silencer.” Randal leaned over Bentley, touching the bloodied area. “We’ll need the bullet if there is one.”

“I’ll keep it for you,” the vet responded. “Right now, though, I need to get Bentley stabilized.”

“I’ll carry him out to your car,” Tess said, patting the dog’s big head, her hand trembling.

If he’d known her well, Seth would have taken her hand, tried to still the tremors.

“Let me,” he said instead, sliding his arms under the dog and lifting him from the couch. The poor mutt didn’t even whimper.

Cold wind knifed through Seth’s jacket as he followed Dr. Spenser to an SUV and lowered Bentley into the back. The dog licked his hand, its tail thumping. No wonder Tessa had given him a home.

Seth closed the hatch, his shoulder throbbing. He’d been up since before dawn. After therapy, he’d dropped off Tessa’s unwanted pet and then gone to the office where he poured over files until his neck cramped and his eyes crossed. He needed to go home and stretch the kinks out, maybe go for a run to clear his head. What he shouldn’t do was get involved in Tessa’s troubles. He’d been through six years of trouble. First Julia’s death, then his injury, his surgery, his recovery. He didn’t need or want anything more than what he’d finally achieved: normalcy, and a little peace.

He had a feeling that peace was the last thing he’d have if he didn’t get in his truck and drive away.

Sometimes, though, peace was overrated. Sometimes God put a person in just the right place at just the right time to accomplish His will and plan. It could be that Seth had been dropped into Tessa’s life at exactly the right moment to lend a hand.

He couldn’t turn away from that. No matter how much he thought he should.

He shoved his hand in his pocket, his fingers brushing the envelope that had brought him to Tessa’s house. He’d planned to deliver it to her, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

THREE

“You’re sure that you don’t know the perpetrator?” Deputy Sheriff Randal asked for what seemed like the thousandth time in the ten minutes since they’d returned to the kitchen.

Tessa wasn’t sure what response he wanted, but apparently it wasn’t the one she’d been giving. She gave it again, anyway, tapping her fingers against the stained wood of the old dinette table. “I never saw his face, Deputy—”

“Call me Logan. Most people around these parts do,” he cut in, offering a quick smile that didn’t meet his eyes.

“I don’t know who attacked me. If I did, I’d tell you.”

“Sometimes victims want to protect their attackers.”

“I’m not protecting anyone.” But in a way, that was exactly what she was doing. She was protecting Daniel, his legacy, his dream. Their dream.

She bit her lip, torn between the need to do that and the need to tell Logan everything that had happened in the woods—including the words that had been whispered in her ear.

“But, you are hiding something.”

She was. That was the problem.

“I—”

The front door opened, cutting off the truth before Tessa could reveal it.

Logan cocked his head to the side and frowned, pushing away from the table, his hand dropping to his firearm. “Stay here. I’ll see who that is.”

Even if she’d wanted to, Tessa didn’t have the energy to follow him from the room. Her neck hurt. Her head throbbed. Her elbow ached.

And she was more scared than she’d been in a long time.

She rubbed the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and trying to imagine a scenario where the attack had nothing to do with her past.

I remember. Do you?

She did. Every moment of the nightmare that she’d survived and every bit of the secret she’d been charged with. Could she tell the sheriff about one without telling him about the other?

Footsteps sounded on the hardwood floor, masculine voices mixing with the quiet hum of the refrigerator. She wanted to say goodnight to Logan, climb in bed, close her eyes and pretend that everything was the same as it had been when she’d gotten up that morning. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t solve her problems. She’d learned that the hard way, ignoring all the little hints that Andrew had let slip because she hadn’t wanted to believe that he was anything other than upright and trustworthy.

It had cost her the only man she’d ever loved. It had cost Daniel his life. She couldn’t let it cost any more.

She shoved away from the table, wishing she could push away the memories. She just wanted to forget and move on, but no matter how long or far she ran, she couldn’t escape the past.

She grabbed the kettle from the 1920s stove and filled it with tap water. A cup of tea wouldn’t sooth her nerves, but she needed to keep her hands busy, keep her mind occupied. If she didn’t, she might sink back into the abyss she’d fallen into after Daniel’s death. The dark well of grief and anger had nearly destroyed her. It had taken everything she’d had to pull herself out of it. Her faith had suffered, her relationship with God floundering as she wrestled with nightmares and fear. She couldn’t allow herself to go back there.

“Tessa,” Logan said as he walked back into the kitchen with Seth. “It seems like you left a little bit out of the story you told me.”

“What’s that?” she responded, reminding herself that Logan couldn’t know what had been whispered in her ear. But that didn’t stop her heart from thumping hard. One revelation would lead to another, and that was a path she wasn’t sure she could take. Not without risking everything she and Daniel had worked for.

“The delivery you received this morning?” Logan prodded.

“It was nothing.” She glanced at Seth, found that she couldn’t drag her gaze away. He didn’t look apologetic. But, then, she hadn’t expected him to be that any more than she’d expected him to keep what had happened that morning to himself. She wanted to be angry, wanted to feel betrayed, but she’d have probably done the same if she’d been in his position.

“There aren’t many people who would say that if they received a package with a giant spider in it,” Logan said, pulling her attention back where it needed to be—on him, the conversation, the questions that she needed to answer. And, the ones she couldn’t.

“I’m not most people.”

“Apparently not, because most people would be happy to give me the information that I need in order to help them,” Logan said as he settled into a chair.

“I am happy to give you the information. It’s just...things are complicated.” She turned away from the men and pulled mugs from the cupboard. “Would either of you like coffee or tea?”

“I’d rather have answers,” Logan replied.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, willing her voice to remain steady as she pivoted, nearly bumping into the rock-solid wall of Seth’s chest.

He stood just inches away, his coat open to reveal a blue button-down shirt tucked into black pants. He must have come from work to deliver the envelope.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked quietly.

She almost told him that she did, but he’d gone out of his way to help her and she couldn’t bring herself to send him away. “Whatever you want to do is fine.”

She moved past him and sat across from Logan. “My husband was murdered five years ago today.”

Logan stiffened, but he didn’t speak.

Tessa knew he was waiting for her to continue, but she didn’t know what else to say—how much to reveal, how much to keep hidden.

“I’m sorry, Tessa.” Seth broke the silence, his tone gentle, his eyes the color of the sky at dusk—deep azure blue, and almost glowing in his tan face. There was something in those eyes, something that she’d lost so long ago she’d stopped believing she’d ever find it again.

She blinked, and whatever she thought she’d seen was gone.

“We were missionaries to Kenya,” she said. “An insurgent group attacked the village we were ministering to. Twenty people were killed or wounded. Daniel was one of casualties. So was his brother, Andrew.” Five years of recounting the tale had given her practice saying what needed to be said, but the words still made her throat raw and her chest tight.

“Why didn’t you mention this before?” Logan jotted something in a small notebook.

“I didn’t think it mattered.” Didn’t want to think it mattered, anyway. She pulled her hair from its ponytail and gathered it back in, keeping her hands busy so she didn’t give herself away.

“Everything matters,” Logan said, jotting something else in his notebook.

She needed to tell him everything.

She knew she did, but the words were stuck.

She cleared her throat. “Then I guess I should tell you that the guy who attacked me asked if I remembered.”

Logan stilled, his face tight with irritation. “That’s a big piece of information to leave out.”

“She didn’t leave it out,” Seth responded before Tessa could. “She’s telling you now.”

Tessa didn’t need his support, and she should have told him that. But the truth was, it had been years since anyone had stood in her corner, and even though she didn’t want to admit it to herself, it felt good to have Seth there.

Plus, there were too many other things to worry about. Like trying to explain why she hadn’t immediately told Logan about the whispered words.

“Everything happened so quickly,” she murmured.

“I understand, but I need to know that I have all the details. Is there anything else I should know?” Logan looked up from the notebook.

Could she tell him about the roses?

Probably—the roses weren’t part of her secret.

“Every year someone brings me a black rose on the anniversary of the massacre. It’s been happening for five years, but there’s never been anything else.”

“Until today,” Seth reminded her.

“Until today,” she agreed.

“Did you get a rose today?” Logan asked, his expression grim and hard.

“I did. It was left on the hood of my car.”

“Do you still have it?”

She shook her head, her eyes hot and gritty. She was saying too much, but she didn’t know what else to do. “I threw it into the yard this morning.”

“Left or right of the driveway?”

“Left.”

“I’m going to see if I can find it, then I’m heading out onto the trail. Hopefully, I’ll be able to collect some evidence. Stay put until I come back.”

He strode from the room, his boots tapping on the hardwood floor. The front door opened, then closed.

Tessa went to the stove and lifted the kettle, pouring hot water into a mug and dunking a tea bag in it—and avoiding Seth’s eyes. He leaned against the counter, his arms crossed, his hair a little windblown. He looked good, and that wasn’t something she wanted to notice.

She yanked sugar from the cupboard and scooped two large spoonsful into her tea. “I appreciate your help tonight, Seth, but I don’t want to take up more of your time.”

“Is that a subtle dismissal?”

“I didn’t think I was being subtle, but you’re welcome to call it that.”

“Touché.” He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “But before I go, how about you tell me the rest of the story? I know you’re holding back.”

An image flashed through her mind—blood pouring over her hands as she tried to staunch the flow. Daniel’s pale face and pale lips and dark, dark eyes. It was worth it, he’d whispered, and then he’d told her to go.

She closed her eyes, her head spinning.

Seth caught Tessa by the shoulders as she seemed to stumble forward. “You’d better sit down, Tessa.”

“I’m okay,” she said, but she didn’t look okay to him. “I told Logan everything. There’s nothing more to say.”

Seth pulled the envelope from his pocket and handed it to Tessa. “You didn’t tell him about this,” he said.

He didn’t think she’d look inside it. He probably wouldn’t have if he were in her shoes. Not in front of someone else. And not if he knew it was somehow connected to his past.

She smoothed her fingers over the flap, her eyes dark and troubled. “This I really did forget about.”

“Do you want to look inside before I give it to Randal?”

“I’d rather it just stay sealed.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve spent five years trying to escape the past, and whatever is in here will probably just tie me to it.”

“Only you can do that, Tessa.”

Tessa shrugged, a silky strand of hair escaping her ponytail. His fingers itched to brush it away.

He clenched his fists, surprised by the longing.

In the six years since Julia’s death, he’d dated a few women, trying to fill the aching loneliness that losing her had left. It hadn’t worked, and eventually he’d given up on the idea. He’d been happy with the decision, never doubting it even once.

Lately, though, he’d been yearning for the kind of connection that came from loving someone completely, from trusting her with every part of who he was.

“I guess I can’t put this off forever,” Tessa muttered.

Seth covered her hand before she could open the envelope. “Put these on first. We don’t want to contaminate any evidence.” He pulled leather gloves from his pocket and handed them to her.

“You’ve been carrying the envelope around all day. Do you really think there’s going to be any evidence on it?” she asked, but she slid her hands into the gloves.

“I’m not worried about the outside. I want to protect what’s inside.”

She nodded, sliding her finger under the flap and carefully opening the envelope. She pulled out a photograph, stared at it for a moment, her expression unreadable. “What is it?” Seth asked, leaning over to get a look.

She shook her head and shoved the photo back into the envelope before he could get more than a glimpse of three people standing near a mud hut.

“Just another reminder of things I wish I could forget. Can you bring it to Logan?” she asked, taking off the gloves and sliding them across the table. He shoved them back into his pocket.

“Sure,” he replied, taking the envelope she held out to him, his fingers brushing hers. A jolt of heat shot up his arm, that one touch reminding him of what he’d lost. What he’d told himself he’d never look for again.

Tessa’s eyes widened and she pulled back, brushing her fingertips against her jeans as if that could somehow change what they’d both felt. “You should probably wait outside for Logan.”

This time, he didn’t ignore her dismissal.

He needed a little space, a little time to think about the reaction that he’d had to that simple touch.

He pulled a business card from his wallet and dropped it on the table. “I’ll see you next week. If you need anything before then, give me a call.”

“Thanks.” She offered a half smile, flashing the dimple in her cheek. She was a beautiful woman. There was no doubt about that. But she had a boatload of baggage.

Not that Seth could point fingers—he had his fair share of baggage, too.

He walked outside, needing the cold night air to clear his head. Randal was nowhere in sight. Seth leaned against the porch railing to wait for him, the envelope and photo heavy in his hand.

It was none of his business.

He knew that.

But something in Tessa’s eyes made him want to make it his business. Not the fear or the sadness, but the raw strength that he sensed had carried her through something terrible.

He slid the photo out of the envelope, careful to touch only the edges.

Tessa standing between two men. She looked young and carefree, a long blue dress covering her slim figure and a baseball hat shielding her eyes. Her hair was longer, the deep-red braid falling over her shoulder nearly to her waist. Behind her, a mud hut blocked the landscape, but it was obvious the picture had been taken in Africa.

Both men had black hair and tan skin. Both were tall and thin, but Tessa’s gaze was on the older of the two, her smile only for him. He had to be her husband.

Seth flipped the photo over. No note, date or label.

He slid it back into the envelope, anxious to hear Randal’s take on it. The photo had obviously been taken during the mission trip to Kenya. Whoever had taken it might also have put it in the box with the tarantula.

The wind knifed through his jacket as he went down the porch steps and around the side of the house. A light flashed in the woods at the back of Tessa’s property—Randal, searching for evidence.

Seth could sit in his car and wait for him to return, but he didn’t believe in standing still when he could be moving forward. Something in Tessa’s past had come for her. The sooner Randal figured out what it was, the safer she would be.

And that’s the way Seth wanted her to be. Safe.

The word ricocheted through him, a grim reminder of his failures.

He hadn’t been able to keep Julia safe.

He’d been in Afghanistan when she’d been killed by a drunk driver. He’d flown home to arrange her funeral, to comfort her parents and his, to try to come to terms with the fact that his best friend—his childhood sweetheart, the woman he’d married straight out of college—was gone, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

He’d thrown himself into military life after that, making a career out of working covert operations deep in enemy territory. He’d planned to keep doing that until retirement, because work numbed the loss.

But God had had other plans, and Seth had been forced to leave the military much earlier than he’d expected. He couldn’t complain. He’d survived his injuries, had found a new career, created a life that kept him content and happy.

But guilt about Julia tormented him every day. And there was no getting around that.

He tucked the envelope into his pocket and headed across the dark yard. There was no way he would leave Tessa alone until he made sure that everything was in place to protect her.

FOUR

Tessa hated silence—her mind filled it with voices from the past. Daniel’s. Andrew’s. The dozen children she’d been teaching the night of the attack.

If she hadn’t been at the church with them, she’d have died in the tiny hut that she and Daniel shared. The one they had been standing in front of in the photograph.

She shuddered.

She vividly remembered the day the photo had been taken. They’d been in Kenya for three days and had two years of work stretching out ahead of them. A villager had taken the photo. Tessa hadn’t seen it since the massacre.

She flicked on the small radio that sat on the kitchen counter, letting classical music drift into the silence. Better, but not the same as having Bentley following behind her as she paced to the window that looked out over the backyard.

Amy should be calling with an update soon. If she didn’t, Tessa would call her. Bentley was the closest thing to family that she had, and she wanted to know that he was going to be okay.

She frowned, tucking Seth’s business card into the junk drawer beside the fridge. She had no intention of calling him. He was too much of everything that she didn’t want in her life. Confident, decisive and driven, he was probably the kind of person who devoted time and attention and complete commitment to whatever cause he was championing. Right now, he seemed to be championing her, and that felt too good, the temptation to lean on him and let him take care of things for her almost overwhelming her common sense.

Almost?

Completely.

She’d given him the photo and asked him to bring it to Logan. As if getting it out of the house could change the fact that she’d received it.

A light bobbed on the hill, appearing and disappearing as someone moved through the trees. Probably Logan. If Tessa had been brave enough, she’d have joined him. It would have been easy to pinpoint the place where she’d been attacked, show him the direction the attacker had come from.

She turned away from the backyard, her chest tight, her eyes hot. She’d dreamed big when she was in college, imagining a life that was exactly the opposite of the one she’d had growing up. Security and routine, love and happiness. She thought she’d have it all with Daniel, and she almost had.

Instead, she’d come full circle, ending up right back where she’d been when her parents had died and she’d been shipped off to foster care.

Alone and terrified.

She shoved the thought away. She was alone by choice, because relationships were too complicated and too risky. She liked her old Victorian house and her job, and loved the serenity and slow pace of Pine Bluff, Washington.

The bruises on her throat throbbed.

She didn’t want to leave Pine Bluff, but she wasn’t sure she could stay.

Walking up the curved staircase, she ran her hand over the smooth mahogany banister. She’d spent days stripping paint off the hand-carved wood and polishing the intricate spindles, imagining the generations of people who had walked up and down the stairs, trailing their hands along the railing. She’d planned to become part of the house’s history.

Her plans were changing.

She might not want deep connections and all the complications that went with them, but she wanted a life lived in peace without the past making constant appearances.

Maybe that meant doing what she’d considered doing dozens of times since the first rose had arrived—changing her name, becoming someone completely new. People went into hiding all the time, created wonderful new lives out of the ashes of their old ones.

In her room overlooking the backyard, she pulled back the gauzy curtains and stared up at the hill behind the house. The light was gone. Either Logan had finished his search, or he’d crested the rise and was heading down toward the river.

He’d want to talk to her when he returned, but for now, she needed keep her mind occupied and her hands busy. She lifted the phone that sat on the nightstand and dialed Amy’s number. She’d check on Bentley, and then she’d go up to the attic and grab the suitcase she’d put there when she’d moved in.

Never again, she’d told herself. No more packing and unpacking and packing again. This is it forever.

She should have known things wouldn’t work out that way. Should have kept the suitcase under her bed like she had for the first four years she’d been back in the States.

She left a message on Amy’s voicemail and walked down the hall to the attic door. The old-fashioned glass doorknob gleamed in the overhead light, the skeleton key that was usually in the small nook on the wall beside the door already in the keyhole.

Had she left the key there the last time she’d gone in the attic? When had that been? A week ago? More?

Wouldn’t she have already noticed the key in keyhole if it had been there since the last time she used it?

Of course she would have. She’d spent the past five years noticing everything, constantly on the alert, tracking changes in her environment and looking for any sign that danger was closing in.

She hadn’t left the key in the hole. Someone else had.

Her heart jumped, her throat dry with fear. Someone could be in the house. Her attacker could be waiting in the attic for her to settle down and go to sleep.

She backed away from the door, her pulse pounding frantically.

The doorbell rang and she screamed, whirling away from the attic, then turning back, afraid if she wasn’t watching the doorknob, it would start to turn.

The doorbell rang again and the front door opened, cold air gusting in.

“Tessa?” Seth called from the foyer.

“Upstairs,” she responded, her voice gritty with fear. Footsteps pounded on the stairs and Seth appeared on the landing, his hair mussed from the wind, his eyes glowing deep blue.

“I thought you’d left,” she said, more relieved than she wanted to be that he hadn’t.

“I gave Randal the picture and I thought I’d check in with you one more time before I went home,” he responded. “What’s wrong?”

She gestured to the doorknob and key. “Someone has been in the attic.”

“You’re sure?” He moved past her, the comforting scent of pine needles and winter air filling the wide hall.

Was she? With Seth there, she suddenly wasn’t sure that she was in danger. Did she really know that she hadn’t left the key in the lock?

“Tessa?” he prodded in a gentle voice that didn’t match his sharp gaze.

“I usually leave the key in that little nook beside the door. I don’t remember leaving it in the keyhole.”

“Okay.” He nodded, took her arm and led her to the stairs. “Randal is on the porch. I want you to open the door and tell him what’s going on. Don’t go outside, though, okay?”

She hesitated. As much as she wanted Seth to take care of the problem, she knew that she shouldn’t let him. Relying on other people usually led to heartache. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. “What are you going to do?”

“Check the attic, but I don’t want you anywhere nearby when I do it.”

“That’s not necessary. I can just—”

“Do what I asked, okay, Tessa? It’s the safest thing for both of us.” He turned away, pulling gloves from his coat pocket and sliding them on.

“What if there is someone up there?”

“I can handle him. But not if you’re in my way. Go tell Randal. It’ll be good to have him around if I find someone.”

“Okay. Fine,” she mumbled, feeling like a coward as she fled down the stairs. She heard the key turn in the lock and Seth’s footsteps on the attic stairs.

“Where is Seth?” Logan asked as soon as she opened the door.

“The attic.” She explained what she’d found, and Logan frowned.

“So, Seth went to check things out?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Just what I need. A loose cannon,” Logan responded with a sigh. “Go in the kitchen. Stay there until I give you the all-clear.”

Logan was up the stairs before Tessa could move from her spot near the door.

A faint creak. The soft groan of old wood giving beneath heavy feet. She knew the sounds of the attic floorboards, could picture Seth and Logan moving through the cavernous room. All the boxes left behind by the people who’d come before her would make easy hiding places for anyone who might be lurking up there.

She shuddered, backing into the kitchen, her gaze on the ceiling, her muscles tense with fear and anticipation.

If they found someone, it would all be over. Bad guy caught and brought to jail—danger gone. Maybe the roses would stop, too. Maybe the past would finally fade into distant memories. She wanted that more than she’d wanted anything in a very long time. To let go. To breathe without the heaviness of secrets and fear pressing on her chest.

She wanted that, and sometimes she thought she could have it if she’d just allow God to give it to her. If she could just forgive Him for offering her everything and then taking it all away.

Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She hadn’t cried since Daniel’s funeral, and she wouldn’t cry now. She’d trusted God, and He’d failed her. Not just with Daniel, with her parents, too. Twice, she’d lost everything. She wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

Boots pounded on the stairs. The men were returning.

They walked into the kitchen, Logan slightly ahead of Seth, his eyes deeply shadowed, his smile kind. He looked like a guy who’d been through a lot, but who’d come out on top. The kind of person who could be counted on.

She didn’t look at Seth. She knew what she’d see—confidence, strength, conviction. He could be counted on, too. He’d already proven that more than once, but she didn’t want to count on him. Doing so could become a habit. One that she might find very difficult to break. “We didn’t find anything, Tessa, but I’m going to dust the doorknob for fingerprints,” Logan said.

“It could be that I forgot to put the key back the last time I went in the attic. My fingerprints might be the only ones you find.” Now that they’d checked the attic and found it empty, she felt a little foolish. She wasn’t one to overreact, and despite what she’d lived through in Kenya, she didn’t jump at shadows.

“If they are, no problem, but I’d rather err on the side of caution than miss something. I’m going to get my fingerprint kit.” Logan turned and walked out of the kitchen. Which left Tessa alone with Seth.

She couldn’t avoid looking at him forever, so she met his eyes, was surprised by the sudden jolt of awareness that shot through her.

She’d been a widow for five years. In that time, she’d never even been tempted to go on a date. Friends had tried to hook her up with brothers or cousins or coworkers, and she’d always refused, because she hadn’t wanted to feel the kind of longing that made a person vulnerable.

“I have to head out,” he said, his gaze steady, his eyes deep blue. “You still have my card, right?”

“Yes.”

“But, you’re not planning to call even if your life depends on it?”

The comment made her smile. “If my life depends on it, I might call.”

“How about we turn might to will, so I can get out of your hair and you can rest?” he responded, his Southern drawl more pronounced.

“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to rest,” she admitted.

“Give it a try. You’ll heal better if you do.” He touched her cheek, his fingers brushing lightly down her jaw. Such a simple gesture, but longing shot through her, so intense that it filled her heart and her throat. “You’re going to have a bruise there. You’d better put some ice on it.”

She nodded, afraid if she spoke, he’d hear everything she was feeling. He frowned. “Maybe I should stick around until Randal gets back.”

“I’ll be fine.” She forced the words out, because she really needed him to leave.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then, I’ll see you next week.”

“Wait!” she nearly shouted as he turned away.

He swung back around to face her again. “You changed your mind about wanting me to stay?”

“No, I...” What? She couldn’t think of one good reason for calling him back. Except that she was scared and that as soon as left, she’d be alone again. “Just...thanks.”

“Anytime.” He walked down the hall, offering a brief smile as he stepped outside and closed the door. The house felt emptier without him in it, and that wasn’t a good thing.

Tessa had been doing things on her own for so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like to have someone around. Seth made her remember.

After Logan finished dusting for prints, she’d face the attic head-on, drag her suitcase to her room and start packing, because she couldn’t stay. Not just because of the danger that seemed to be dogging her, but because of Seth.

He was his own kind of danger.

The kind that could fill a woman’s heart, seep into her soul. Make her want things that she shouldn’t want. Long for things that were out of reach.

Tessa didn’t want to go down that path again.

She didn’t want the heartache it would bring.

Sometimes, though, she wanted more than a big old house and an oversize dog.

Sometimes, she wanted forever with someone she loved.