Raine turned, her eyes widening.

Chase was handsome in faded jeans and dusty cowboy boots, but in a tuxedo, he could stop traffic. “Hello,” she managed to say.

“Hello.” His gaze swept her from head to toe, then returned with disconcerting slowness until he looked into her eyes again. The heat in his own eyes left no doubt that he liked what he saw.

Raine felt his slow survey as if he’d stroked his hand over her bare skin. Her body reacted with heat that began low in her belly, spreading quickly until she burned.

“So,” she said nervously. “How does it feel to be consorting with the enemy?”

He laughed, the deep chuckle reverberating up her spine.

“Ask me again when this is over. I’ll let you know.”

Dear Reader,

Before I became a published author, I worked in the legal field. As I sat in courtrooms and listened to judges handing down jail sentences, I often wondered what happened to those convicted people and their families after their day in court. How did being incarcerated affect a person’s character? What happened to their loved ones while they were locked away in a jail cell? And how did the experience change and shape all of their lives five, ten or fifteen years later?

Those questions and exploring possible answers became the heart of THE MCCLOUDS series. Chase McCloud was changed irrevocably when he was unjustly convicted as a teenager—and the events leading to his imprisonment also changed Raine Harper’s life forever. Fifteen years later, is it possible these two people can heal old hurts for both their families and forge a future together?

I hope you enjoy Chase and Raine’s story, and that you’ll return to Wolf Creek with me for the fourth and last installment in THE MCCLOUDS OF MONTANA when Trey Harper is determined to expose long-hidden secrets and bring justice to the McClouds.

Best wishes,

Lois Faye Dyer

Chase’s Promise
Lois Faye Dyer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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LOIS FAYE DYER

lives on Washington State’s beautiful Puget Sound with her yellow Lab, Maggie Mae, and two eccentric cats. She loves to hear from readers and you can write to her c/o Paperbacks Plus, 1618 Bay Street, Port Orchard, WA 98366.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter One

Wolf Creek, Montana

Early Spring

C hase McCloud stared at his grandfather’s casket, ignoring the group of mourners huddled beneath umbrellas on the far side of the open grave. The wind picked up, carrying the scent of sage as it whipped the prairie with a flurry of icy raindrops.

His little sister shivered, clutching his hand tighter, and he bent toward her. “Are you okay, Jessie?” he asked gently, scanning her tear-streaked face.

She nodded beneath the mop of auburn curls, but her expression was filled with fear as she darted a glance over her shoulder.

Chase squeezed her hand reassuringly.

Anger coursing through him, he knew without looking what frightened Jessie. A uniformed Montana Department of Corrections officer stood several yards behind them. The officer had removed Chase’s handcuffs when they’d arrived at the cemetery and the metal restraints were clipped on the police issue leather belt, just behind his holstered gun. The officer had respected the family’s grief and stood silently. Nonetheless, Chase was aware the man’s attention never wavered; he swore he could almost feel the officer’s searing scrutiny.

Chase focused on the mahogany casket, purposely blanking his mind to all else. Fresh grief slammed through him. His grandfather had been a powerful, guiding influence in his life. The knowledge that Angus McCloud would no longer give him wise advice, that Chase would never again hear him laugh with delight over a new joke, was incomprehensible.

Tears burned behind his eyelids. He narrowed his eyes, forbidding the tears to fall. Raising his gaze from the casket, he turned his focus to the mourners on the far side of the grave.

His grandfather’s lifelong friends and neighbors had known Chase for all of his seventeen years but now they either refused to meet his eyes or glared at him with accusation and disdain.

Clearly, few of them believed he’d been jailed unjustly.

Chase sighted the five members of the Kerrigan family. Fifteen-year-old Zach Kerrigan stood next to his mother and little sister, his stance protective. Just beyond them was Laura Kerrigan-McCloud, Angus McCloud’s widow.

He still didn’t understand why his grandfather had married Laura Kerrigan. They were both in their late seventies when they’d wed despite the vehement protests of both their families. The marriage appeared to bring a quiet contentment for Angus but hadn’t drawn the families any closer together. The McClouds had been feuding with the Kerrigans since 1922, when a crooked poker game cost a McCloud 2500 acres of prime land. Over the years, the two families had argued and fought over a variety of grievances and there was no love lost between them—except for Angus and Laura.

Now the white-haired widow stood apart from her late husband’s family, leaning heavily on the arm of her nephew, Harlan Kerrigan.

Harlan’s gaze met Chase’s and the older man’s lip curled in a sneer. Despite the bitter rage that swelled in his chest, Chase didn’t react, just looked away. Harlan’s son, Lonnie hadn’t come.

It’s probably a good thing Lonnie’s not here, Chase thought. Granddad’s funeral is hard enough on Mom and Dad. Not the place for me to meet Lonnie.

He swept the crowd again, hoping to catch a glimpse of any members of the Harper family but none of them were at the graveside.

The stab of loss and regret was unavoidable. Chase steeled himself against letting the pain change his expression.

He and Mike Harper had been best friends since grade school and now Mike’s family with no doubt believed Chase was responsible for his death. The twelve people sitting on the Wolf Creek jury certainly had—they’d convicted him of vehicular manslaughter, based on the testimony of Harlan and Lonnie Kerrigan.

I’m the only one who knows it’s not true. Once again he met Harlan Kerrigan’s hostile gaze. Correction, he thought grimly. Both Harlan and Lonnie know who really killed Mike.

Seething with bitterness, Chase focused on the casket once again, concentrating on breathing in and out with slow, measured inhales and exhales. He’d learned the method from a tough, no-nonsense guard at the correctional facility a week after he’d arrived at the institution. Defending himself in a brawl in the exercise yard had resulted in a six-inch knife wound and the guard had taken him to the infirmary to have the deep cut stitched. Following the guard’s advice, he’d signed up for meditation classes. Combined with long hours spent weight lifting and working out, after two months he’d become strong enough to enforce his desire for solitude. As a result, the other inmates now left him alone.

Alone was just fine; being left alone was what he wanted. He planned to do his time and get out.

He drew in a deep breath, filling his lungs with cold air and the scent of sagebrush. Freedom. He craved it.

But first, he had to survive the next few years locked away for a crime he hadn’t committed.

Raine and Trey Harper lay flat on their bellies, peering around the sagebrush. From their vantage point atop the low hill, the twelve-year-olds had an unobstructed view of the Wolf Creek Cemetery and the cluster of people around the open grave.

“He looks different,” Raine said. “Don’t you think Chase looks different, Trey?”

Her brother stared hard at the McClouds. “He looks sad. And older. Maybe thinner. I wonder if he gets good food in jail.”

“I hope so.” Raine fell silent. “I miss Mike. And I miss Chase, too. I wish this year never happened.”

“Well, it did.” Trey didn’t face her but she knew he was fighting back tears, just as she was. She always knew when her twin was upset, just as he knew things about her without asking. Their mother said twins were connected in some weird way. Raine didn’t think of it as strange; for her it was normal.

“I don’t believe Chase hurt Mike on purpose, do you?” she asked.

“People say he did. Mom believes he did.”

“But Dad said Chase says he didn’t. Do you think he did?”

“No.” Trey looked at her, his gray eyes fierce. “I don’t.”

“Me, either.” She looked away from him, back down the hill. “But he’s still gone away and we never get to see him—just like Mike, only Mike’s dead and Chase isn’t. Do you think Chase will ever come back?”

“I don’t know. Maybe someday, when I find out what really happened.”

“Do you think Mom will believe you?” Raine didn’t understand her mother since Mike was killed. She stayed in her bedroom, crying day and night. Sometimes it felt like she no longer even remembered Raine and Trey were in the house. It was scary and so sad it made Raine feel like crying, too.

“Probably not.” Trey’s voice was bleak.

Below them, the service seemed to be finished. The mourners started walking toward their cars.

Trey scooted backward. “Come on, Raine. We don’t want anyone to see us. We’ll be in trouble with Dad for sure if he knows we came out here.”

Raine inched backward, rocks and twigs scratching her ankles where her jeans rode up above her socks. When the slope of the hill hid them from view, they stood, racing to their bikes and pedaling furiously down the little-used dirt road back to town, hurrying to get home before they were missed.

Fifteen years later

Late August

Gravel crunched under her car’s wheels as Raine Harper braked, slowing to read the name printed on the mailbox atop its sturdy black metal post.

“C. McCloud,” she said aloud, stopping her car and letting the engine idle.

Chase McCloud’s home lay thirty miles southeast of Wolf Creek, at the farthest boundary of McCloud Enterprises land amid towering buttes and deep coulees. No fertile fields of wheat or oats softened the landscape here. Instead, barbed wire fences marched for miles along the sharply curved road, dividing the gravel highway from untamed land. Outcroppings of shale and cliffs of clay dropped precipitously to create miniature canyons where swift-running creeks sparkled in the sunlight.

Raine knew that farther south, the land grew even wilder in the Missouri Breaks. But here, blocky red-and-white Hereford cattle, horses and the occasional pair of pronghorn antelope grazed on clumps of tough grass scattered amid gray-green sagebrush.

Rumor had it that Chase McCloud had purposely chosen to live on this outer section of his family’s property because he wanted to get as far away from Wolf Creek residents as possible. Raine had no idea whether the gossip was true and she couldn’t afford to care.

The reclusive bounty hunter might not want visitors. He probably wouldn’t welcome a Harper knocking on his door. But she needed him. She was desperate and he was the only man in the county who had experience in locating missing persons.

He owes me, she thought. He owes my family. She shifted the car into gear and turned off the highway onto the graveled lane.

The well-maintained road followed the bulge of a towering rocky butte. Raine rounded a curve and caught her breath, staring at the house and outbuildings tucked against the foot of a butte across the broad valley stretching in front of her. The house was a weathered A-frame with glass across the entire front. Built of peeled logs, it was surrounded by green lawn and tall maple trees. The barn, corrals and other outbuildings were all constructed of logs with the same aged, silvery look.

The road cut straight across the valley. Raine drove over a sturdy log bridge spanning a clear-running creek then onto the graveled drive that led to the ranch yard. She parked in front of the house and got out, pausing to survey the cluster of buildings.

Very impressive, she thought, grudgingly acknowledging the care and prosperity evident in the well kept headquarters.

A wrought iron fence surrounded the house and yard. The gate’s latch gave easily under her hand and she pushed it wide, turning to fasten it behind her. Her footsteps echoed on the wooden decking as she approached the screened door and rapped briskly. No one answered. The house was silent except for the musical tinkling of a wind chime as it swayed in the slight breeze.

The delicate wind chime and the scrolls of the iron fence were the only colorful touches, no pots of flowers graced the deck and the doormat was a serviceable thick brown straw.

Walking over to the edge of the deck, Raine shaded her eyes with her hand, searching the ranch yard.

All seemed quiet, the buildings and corrals drowsing in the hot sun. Her heart sank with disappointment.

He’s not here.

Chase McCloud was elusive. According to rumor, he often disappeared for stretches of time, traveling back to Seattle where he’d worked as a bounty hunter for so long. He was said to still take cases for the company on occasion and to be a silent partner in the exclusive investigative agency.

Raine didn’t know what she’d do if he’d left town again. Increasingly frustrated and impatient, she’d been waiting for days already. Finally Chase had returned to Wolf Creek.

She needed to see him now. She couldn’t afford to wait until tomorrow or next week.

She rapped on the door again, listening for movement inside while rubbing her knuckles.

Discouraged, she went back to her car, pausing with the door open while her gaze swept the ranch yard and buildings one last time. Just as she’d given up, the sound of a hammer ringing on metal reached her ears.

She turned, looking all around the buildings. The ring of hammer against iron sounded again, not a single blow this time but a rhythmic tapping.

As Raine headed toward the sound, she caught sight of a trace of smoke coming from the chimney atop an outbuilding beyond the barn.

She crossed the graveled ranch yard quickly, dust puffing up beneath her sandals. The nearer she drew, the louder the hammering grew. She rounded the side of the building and found long sliding doors pushed wide on their tracks, leaving the space open to the elements across one whole side. She stepped into the shadowy interior and halted, stunned.

A man, stripped to his waist, stood at an old-fashioned forge. Sweat had dampened his black hair and the heavy muscles of his upper torso gleamed, his tanned skin marked with numerous scars.

He looked up when she entered, his blue eyes narrowing as he appeared to evaluate her in one searing glance before returning his attention to the piece of red-hot metal on the anvil.

“Chase McCloud?” she asked, although she recognized the fierce blue eyes and handsome, sharp-planed features. She’d seen him a month or more earlier when she’d literally bumped into him one afternoon. On her way to talk to Trey in his apartment above the Saloon, she’d just stepped inside the bar door as Chase was leaving. Taken by surprise, he’d walked into her, grabbing her arms to keep from knocking her down. His apology for colliding with Raine had been abrupt and distracted.

She certainly remembered him but she doubted he remembered her. She knew what he’d seen in that one swift look—the same mahogany hair and gray eyes he’d been familiar with when she was a little girl and he was her oldest brother’s best friend. Yet she’d caught no flicker of recognition on his face just now before he turned back to the forge.

“I’m McCloud.”

“I’m Raine Harper,” she began.

“I know who you are,” he interrupted. “What are you doing here?” He didn’t look at her, his attention focused on the hot iron, turning it as he hammered, shaping the glowing end into a long, graceful curve.

Raine tucked her fingertips into the front pockets of her jeans. “I want to hire you.”

“To do what?”

“Find my brother—he disappeared over two weeks ago. I haven’t heard from him and no one’s seen him for seventeen days.”

“Did you call the cops?”

“Yes. But they tell me they’ve reached a dead end. They won’t resume an active search unless there are new leads to follow. That’s why I want to hire you.”

“No.”

Raine blinked. “Why not?”

Chase tapped the hammer against the iron curve one last time and turned to thrust the metal into a barrel. The hiss of cold water meeting hot iron was accompanied by steam rolling upward. He took a ragged towel from his back pocket and rubbed his face and hair, then scrubbed it over his chest before tossing it on the bench behind him.

He picked up a black T-shirt lying next to the damp towel and pulled it over his head and arms, yanking it down as he came toward her.

Raine tensed as he approached but he simply walked past her and out into the sunlight.

“Wait!” She hurried after him. “The least you can do is give me a reason—tell me why you won’t look for Trey.”

“I don’t want to.”

His answer was so blunt it left Raine speechless for one shocked moment before a flood of anger erased caution. She grabbed his arm and he halted to look down at her. His blue eyes were remote. It wasn’t so much hostility but the total lack of emotion on his face that made Raine quickly release her grip on his forearm.

“Why not?”

He didn’t answer.

Frustrated, Raine frowned up at him. “My brother’s missing and you’re a bounty hunter. If the police can’t find him, you’re the only person in the area that has a chance of locating him.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found.”

“No.” She shook her head, adamantly rejecting the possibility. “Trey would have told me if he were going to be gone longer than overnight. He knows I worry. He would have phoned.”

“Then maybe he isn’t able to make a call.”

“You mean he might be dead. He’s not.” She saw the flicker of skepticism in his expression. “We’re twins. I’d know if he were dead.”

“Then why are you worried?”

“Because something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

“You can ‘feel’ your brother’s in trouble? Is this some psychic thing?”

“Yes. I know it sounds weird, but we’ve always known if the other was in trouble, or hurt. And I know I have to find Trey. Will you help me?”

“Sorry. I never take cases from locals.”

Raine clenched her fists, her temper flaring. “You owe me,” she told him. “You owe my family.”

His face hardened, a muscle flexing along his jawline. “I don’t owe you anything, lady.”

“You cost me and my family one brother when Mike died. You owe it to me to help save Trey.”

“If I owed your family a debt, which I don’t, I paid for it with three years of my life.” His voice was as cold and hard as a Montana winter.

He spun on his heel and stalked away.

“Trey disappeared when he went to meet someone who promised to tell him the truth about the night Mike died,” Raine called after him in a last, desperate bid for his cooperation.

Chase stopped walking. He turned to look at her, menace in every line of his body.

“What did you say?”

Raine felt as if she’d poked a mountain lion with a stick and had him turn on her. She’d wanted Chase’s attention. Now she had it and chills of fear prickled her skin.

“Trey received a letter telling him that if he wanted to know how Mike really died fifteen years ago, he should be at the Bull ’n’ Bash tavern in Billings on Friday night. He refused to let me go with him and he hasn’t come home.”

“Was the letter signed?”

“No.”

“Have you got it?”

“No. Trey took it with him when he left for Billings.”

Chase propped his hands on his hips, his expression unreadable.

“All right.” He nodded abruptly. “You’ve got yourself a hunter. I’ll need all the information you can give me about your brother. Have you got a picture with you?”

Raine was dizzy with relief. “Not with me, no. But I have several on Trey’s computer in the apartment above the Saloon.”

“I’ll need a recent photo and his statistics, date of birth, eye and hair color, height and weight. Also what kind of car he was driving and the license number.” He broke off and thought for a moment. “Has his car been found?”

“No. He drove his SUV. It’s missing, too.”

“Get the data together and I’ll pick it up this evening on my way out of town.”

“Where are you going?”

“Billings. If that’s the last place he was seen, that’s where I’ll start looking.”

Ten minutes later, after telling Chase to come to her brother’s apartment above the Saloon to collect the information about Trey, Raine was racing down the highway toward Wolf Creek. She didn’t have a lot of time to collect Trey’s vital statistics and choose a photo of her brother to give to Chase.

For the first time in days, the heavy dread that weighed down her heart lifted, giving her hope.

Chase McCloud was more dangerous in person than his reputation claimed. Raine didn’t care. She’d have dealt with the devil himself if it meant a chance to find Trey.

Chapter Two

C hase stood on his deck, watching the small red car until it turned onto the highway and sped out of sight.

Raine Harper had just knocked his world off its axis. And not only because a possible clue had surfaced in a fifteen-year-old mystery.

He hadn’t lied to her—he didn’t take cases for locals. He wanted nothing to do with Wolf Creek residents. He’d sworn long ago to focus on the present and let the past lie undisturbed—that included Mike’s death and the local jury that held him responsible. Raine, however, was the exception.

She was the last woman he’d expected to see when he looked up from the hot metal taking shape under his hammer and saw a female form silhouetted by the sunlight. Then she’d stepped inside the workroom and he could see her clearly.

He’d recognized her with one glance.

That brief moment when they’d collided in the Saloon weeks ago was seared in his memory. He’d looked down into startled grey eyes and pink lips parted in surprise. For a second, their bodies were pressed together from chest to thigh. Those eyes, her mouth, creamy skin, mahogany hair and the feel of her curves against him had featured prominently in his dreams ever since.

He hadn’t decided what, if anything, he wanted to do about her. Given their family history, he’d doubted she’d be willing to share casual conversation with him, let alone consider the kind of relationship that ended up with the two of them getting naked.

He had a strict rule against getting involved with anyone hiring his services. He’d never broken it in all his years as a bounty hunter.

Agreeing to search for her brother made Raine his client. He hoped to hell he’d be able to keep his distance until he’d located her brother and had a look at the mysterious letter.

For the first time in his life, Chase wasn’t confident his control was unshakable.

Several hours later, Chase tossed a small duffel bag packed with essentials onto the floor behind the SUV’s driver’s seat, whistling a brief melodic tune. Three-year-old-Killer, a ninety-eight pound Rottweiler, immediately ceased sniffing the grass by the house gate and trotted forward. He leaped easily into the backseat and Chase slammed the door behind him before sliding behind the wheel.

The late-afternoon sun heated the interior of the black four-wheel-drive vehicle but Chase didn’t turn on the air-conditioning, choosing instead to lower all the windows. Killer stuck his head outside, eyes half-closed as the hot wind pinned his ears back.

Chase drove by instinct, his mind occupied with the possible angles presented by the mysterious letter sent to Trey Harper just before he’d disappeared.

There were only three people who knew what really happened the night Mike Harper died. Chase was one of them. The other two were Lonnie and Harlan Kerrigan. One of them must have sent the letter to Raine’s brother. But which one? And why?

Chase was convinced neither Harlan nor Lonnie would come forward and confess which meant he had to consider a third possibility. Could someone else have been present at the accident scene fifteen years earlier?

He remembered the sequence of events leading up to the crash on the highway outside Wolf Creek clearly. But he’d been thrown from the truck on impact, hit his head, and lost consciousness. Could another vehicle have arrived on the scene while he’d been comatose? Could a fourth person have seen Harlan remove Lonnie from the driver’s seat and put Chase behind the wheel?

The unlikely scenario was easier to accept than the equally unlikely possibility that one of the Kerrigans had suddenly become conscience-stricken and had decided to confess after all these years.

Chase reached Wolf Creek and pulled into the alley behind the Saloon, parking several yards from the back door. Leaving Killer on guard in the SUV, he went inside. A stairwell rose to his immediate right and he moved silently up the steps to the second floor where two doors, directly opposite each other, opened off the carpeted landing. He knocked on 2B and waited, rewarded moments later by the snick of a dead bolt as it slid free.

Raine stood in the doorway. Chase stilled, rocked by the sudden urge to reach out, catch her narrow waist and draw her close. He felt an intense, nearly compulsive desire to bury his face against the thick mahogany fall of hair, wind the long strands around his fists and run his tongue over the lush fullness of her lower lip to discover the taste of her mouth.

He never broke his strict rule against romantic involvement with a client, no matter how beautiful. Raine Harper was off-limits.

He made his response as impersonal as possible. “Evening.”

“Come in,” she said, her gray eyes meeting his. “Is something wrong?”

“Not that I know of, why?”

“I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “For a moment there, you seemed angry.”

He shrugged and didn’t answer her.

“Well…” She gestured him inside. “I’m just printing out a digital photo and the details about Trey you wanted.”

Chase stepped past her and into the apartment. Raine went over to a desk tucked beneath a window to their left. As she moved past him, the subtle scent of her perfume reached his nostrils and he tensed, edgy and restless until she was beyond his reach.

He glanced around the apartment. Nearly half of the square footage was open space with high ceilings and polished wood floors. A kitchen took up one corner, separated from the great room by a bar with four stools. Shining copper pans hung from a rack above the stove.

Everything he’d heard about the two surviving members of the Harper family indicated that Raine and Trey were successful businesspeople. They owned the Saloon with its adjoining restaurant, the motel on the edge of town and a small apartment building a few blocks away.

Which left very little time for cooking, he thought.

The soft click and whir of a computer printer was the only sound in the quiet apartment. “Nearly finished, only one more page to go. It took longer than I’d hoped to find the information you wanted. I’m not used to Trey’s computer programs.”

“This is your brother’s apartment?”

“Yes. He likes the convenience of living above the business—says he spends so much time at work it’s a waste of time to keep a home somewhere else.” She had her back to him as she leaned forward to slip the last sheet from the printer and paper-clipped it together with several others. “I didn’t ask you how much you charge for your services.”

She looked over her shoulder at him.

Her eyes widened when Chase quoted his daily fee. “Plus expenses,” he added.

She stared at him for a moment before nodding and turning back to the desk.

She barely flinched, he thought, which confirmed his earlier guess that the family businesses were doing well.

Chase’s gaze flicked idly over the room. A medium-size duffel bag, bulging with its contents, sat on the floor next to the door. A woman’s purse sat beside it.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes.”

The timing was too coincidental. Chase instinctively knew the answer but he asked the question anyway, hoping he was wrong. “Mind if I ask you where?”

“Not at all. I’m going with you. Or I’m following you, take your pick.”

“This isn’t a pleasure trip. It’s business and I work alone.”

“You need me.” Her voice as stubborn as the set of her chin, she turned to him in profile as she slipped the sheaf of papers into a file folder.

“For what?” He didn’t bother hiding the sarcasm in his response.

“Psychic connections between twins have been documented and scientifically accepted. If Trey is near, I’ll feel him. Without me, you could walk within three feet of him and never know it.”

“And if he’s dead?”

A shudder shook her slim body before she visibly collected herself. “He isn’t. I would have felt him leave me.”

Chase didn’t believe her but it didn’t take a genius to see she was fully convinced she was right. Nevertheless, he’d signed on to locate her missing brother; it wasn’t his job to make her face reality. Unless I have to tell her I’ve found a dead body, he thought grimly. “It sounds like a lot of psychobabble to me but I’ve heard stranger things.” He shrugged and held out his hand. “I’ll take the photos and any information you’ve got on your brother.”

Raine handed him the folder and he flipped through it, scanning the pages.

“Looks like enough to start with.” He went toward the door.

“Are you going to let me ride with you? Or are you going to insist I drive my own car?”

He looked back at her. “You can come with me.” Her taut expression eased. “Don’t think it’s because I want you along or agree your help is necessary,” he said bluntly. “I’m saying yes because I figure it’s the quickest way to convince you to stay home and let me get on with my job. Clients generally believe hunting people is either easy or exciting—it isn’t. It’s mostly boring, repetitive work with endless knocking on doors and conversations that lead to dead ends.”

She flushed and nodded, her eyes snapping with anger, her lips set tightly.

Chase guessed her pretty mouth was clamped shut to keep from telling him exactly where he could put his ultimatums but he didn’t care. He’d long ago run out of the patience required to deal with civilians who believed the television version of “bounty hunting.” He was good at his job, and sometimes it was exciting and definitely dangerous. Most of the time, though, it required methodical, patient sifting of information.

She’ll be bored and heading for home within forty-eight hours, he thought.

Raine snatched up her bag and purse and followed him out of the apartment, pausing to lock the dead bolt. He couldn’t have been clearer about not wanting me with him. She wondered if he’d go out of his way to be difficult and steeled herself for an unpleasant drive. If she was lucky, she thought, they’d learn something definitive in Billings and she wouldn’t have to be in his company for more than the evening.

Chase had already disappeared into the alley when she reached the bottom of the stairs. A black SUV was parked a few feet away, the tinted windows adding a secretive air to its sleek appearance.

“Give me your bag. I’ll put it in the back.”

Raine jumped. Chase moved so quickly she hadn’t heard him approach. He took the duffel from her and opened the passenger door, waving her in. Raine slipped into the seat and twisted to fasten her seat belt while Chase walked around the back of the vehicle.

Someone breathed loudly in her ear, the sound faintly threatening. Raine glanced over her shoulder and directly into the face of a huge black dog. She froze, afraid to move. His mouth was open, red tongue lolling, and his white incisors appeared razor sharp.

“Killer. Down.” Chase’s voice was calm, commanding.

The big dog sat back on his haunches, giving a low growl as Chase tossed Raine’s duffel on the floor at his feet. Seconds later, Chase slid behind the wheel next to Raine. The engine turned over with a throaty roar and he drove out of the alleyway.

Raine took measured breaths to slow her racing heart.

“He’s…big, isn’t he?”

She felt the scrutiny of Chase’s gaze as he looked briefly at her before returning his attention to the highway. “Not so big for a Rottweiler. He weighs around a hundred pounds.”

Raine felt her eyes widen but she didn’t comment. The dog was within twenty pounds of her own weight. She hoped he wasn’t easily provoked. “Is that why you named him Killer?”

“Not me—Dad named him ‘Killer’ after Jerry Lee Lewis, a badass fifties rock ’n’ roll singer. My parents have a male Rottweiler—Killer’s one of his offspring. The elderly neighbor that raised Killer from a pup died last month and Dad took him back.”

“How did he end up living with you?” Raine was fascinated by the small window into the lives of the McCloud family.

“His choice—not mine. I had dinner with my folks a few days after Dad picked him up and Killer jumped into my truck bed. He wouldn’t get out so I took him home with me. He’s been there ever since.”

“He adopted you?”

Chase shrugged. “Apparently.”

“Brave dog,” she commented.

“Not really. Have you seen the size of his jaws and teeth?” Chase said dryly. “I’m not about to tell him he has to go back to Dad’s.”

His wry humor caught Raine off guard, startling her into laughter.

Chase glanced sideways at her. “Tell me about your brother.” He switched off the radio, cutting off Mick Jagger in midlyric. The silence that filled the vehicle was suddenly loaded with intimacy.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything you can tell me. The more I know about him, the easier it will be to second-guess his actions. Start with his work schedule. You said he lives above the Saloon because of the long hours he works. Did he have any trouble with a customer lately that was out of the ordinary?”

“Not that I know of.” Raine paused, mentally considering her conversations with Trey over the last weeks before he disappeared. She couldn’t think of any comments he’d made about customer interaction that went beyond the usual complaints. “Most of the clientele in the Saloon and restaurant are regulars and local. Every now and then someone starts a fight but Trey hadn’t mentioned any specific problems.”

“Exactly what does he do at work?”

“Everything—he’s completely in charge of managing the Saloon and I’m responsible for the restaurant, although we substitute for each other if needed. Trey fills in behind the bar on occasion, deals with the Liquor Board, acts as bouncer if anyone gets too rowdy, hires and fires employees—everything required of the owner.”

“Has he fired anyone recently?”

Raine shook her head. “No.”

“What about at the restaurant? Any disgruntled ex-employees holding a grudge?”

“Not that I’m aware of. We’re a family-run business in a small town, which means most of our employees have been with us for a long time. There’s always some turnover during the year but we haven’t fired or hired anyone for months.” She paused, trying to remember any incident with an unhappy employee. “I can’t recall any recent problems with employees beyond the usual small issues like scheduling or pay raises.”

“What about his personal life? Any girlfriends with unhappy ex-boyfriends?”

“If there are, I haven’t heard about it. Trey has a lot of women friends but as far as I know, he’s never been serious about any one of them.”

“Maybe one of them wanted more than friendship.”

“Maybe.” Raine searched Chase’s profile but couldn’t read his thoughts. “Do you think Trey’s disappearance is connected to his personal life in some way and not to whoever wrote the letter?”

Chase shrugged. “I’m giving equal weight to any theory. When someone goes missing, it’s often connected to a personal issue.”

He continued to ask questions about Trey. The time seemed to fly and Raine was surprised when the lights of Billings appeared. Chase drove down a side street and angled the SUV into a parking slot a half block away from the neon sign spelling out Bull ’n’ Bash.

Raine looked up and down the street, noting the rough neighborhood. “Charming place,” she said dryly.

“Oh, yeah.” Chase leaned sideways and opened the glove compartment.

His shoulder pressed briefly against hers and the space was suddenly too small. Raine sucked in a breath and pressed her spine against the seat in a vain effort to distance herself but it wasn’t enough. Her lungs filled with the faint scent of aftershave and soap and she felt vaguely threatened by his size and sheer presence, though he didn’t say a word or look at her.

He removed a handgun from the compartment and shifted back into the driver’s seat.

Unnerved, Raine watched as he checked it efficiently, then tucked it into a shoulder holster beneath his denim Levi’s jacket.

“Do you expect trouble?”

He glanced at her and she felt that electric shiver of wary awareness once more. “I always expect trouble.” He got out.

Raine unlatched her seat belt and followed him, determined not to be left behind.

“Stay, Killer. Watch.” The murmured words reached Raine clearly before Chase stepped up on the curb. He waited for Raine to join him then led the way to the bar’s entryway, where he stopped her with a hand on her forearm.

“You can go inside with me on two conditions.”

“What are they?”

“I do all the talking. You’re an observer, nothing more.”

Her first response was to refuse. She wanted to ask questions—someone inside might have seen Trey. If they were going to find a clue that would lead them to him, this might be their best, maybe their only, chance. But Chase was the expert in this search and she didn’t want to hamper any progress he might make. She nodded reluctantly. “Agreed. What’s the second condition?”

“You stick to me like glue. While we’re in there—” he pointed to the Bull ’n’ Bash “—you pretend you belong to me. I’ve been here before—this isn’t the local Saloon in Wolf Creek where everyone knows you and they’re all your friends.”

“I’m not completely naive. I’ve been in a few rough bars before.”

“Then you know what could happen if the men think you’re available. I don’t want to waste time cracking some cowboy’s skull because he takes a fancy to you and won’t let go.”

Raine stepped over the threshold. She hadn’t lied to Chase. She’d been inside rough places with Trey when he’d considered expanding the family bar ownership to outlying towns. The Bull ’n’ Bash was seedier than others she’d seen, but the landscape was familiar.

The jukebox on her left was playing Johnny Cash’s “Walk the Line” and the crack of cue sticks against pool balls in the back of the low ceilinged room was barely audible over the heavy bass in the music. Cheap hanging lanterns gave off low-wattage light, dimly illuminating the big room with its round tables and battered wooden chairs. Several booths lined one wall and a long bar boasted worn red vinyl stools, nearly all of them occupied by cowboys of various ages and sizes.

“Let’s find a booth.” Chase slung his arm around her and they threaded their way around tables.

She felt surrounded by him, his arm heavy across her shoulders, his hip and muscled thigh brushing against hers as they walked. Her body felt charged with awareness and she was relieved when they reached the booth so that she could slip out from under his arm and drop onto the bench. Instead of taking the bench opposite the scarred tabletop, Chase sat down beside her, his shoulder nudging hers. Quickly, she slid along the seat into the corner. He followed her.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, taken aback at the press of his arm and the length of his thigh against hers.

He bent his head, his lips brushing against her ear. “Marking you.”

Incensed, Raine met his gaze. His blue eyes were impassive, watchful. Determined not to let him see he’d shaken her composure, she merely nodded. “Of course. I should have realized.”

His mouth quirked and amusement lit his eyes for a brief moment. Then he looked away from her and lifted his hand to beckon the waitress.

The strawberry blonde who answered his gesture carried an empty tray and wore skintight jeans, her curly mass of red-gold hair brushing the straps of her bright pink halter top.

“Hi, honey, what can I get you?”

“A couple of longnecks.” Chase’s voice was a lazy, sexy drawl.

Raine realized with a start that he was smiling at the waitress. The smile changed his features from handsome to drop-dead sexy. The waitress clearly thought so, too. Her eyes lit and she bent forward slightly, allowing the neckline of her low-cut knit top to fall forward.

“Is that all you need, honey?”

Her suggestive question had Raine bristling. The surprising reaction was unexpected, unwelcome and annoying. Neither the waitress nor Chase appeared to remember she was present and the rudeness irked her.

“For the moment.”

The blonde gave him a knowing smile and sashayed her way back to the bar.

“What was that all about?” Raine whispered.

Chase turned his head to look at Raine. His expression held none of the seductive teasing he’d shown the waitress. “It’s about being nice to the employees. If Trey was in here on a Friday night, she wouldn’t have missed him.”

“Assuming she was working that Friday.”

Chase nodded. “A pretty safe assumption since Friday and Saturday nights are the busiest nights in a bar. There’s a good chance she worked the weekend shift, don’t you think?”

“True.” Raine knew the Saloon’s employees worked at full staff on Friday and Saturday nights. “Good call,” she conceded reluctantly.

The waitress came back with two frosty bottles of beer.

“Here you go,” she said.

Chase handed her a twenty-dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks.” She tucked the bill into the pocket of her skintight jeans.

“There is something you might help with,” Chase said, returning her smile.

“What’s that?” The pure speculation in her voice clearly said she was hoping for a more personal request.

Chase reached into his inside jacket pocket and drew out the photo of Trey. “I’m looking for a friend of mine. He was in here on a Friday night a couple of weeks ago.”

The blonde took the photo, studied it, then held it out to Chase. “No, haven’t seen him.”

“Are you sure? Take another look.”

She stared at the photo once again, a frown growing between her brows. Then she shook her head. “Sorry, mister. I told the cops the same thing when they asked about him a week or so ago. I’ve never seen this guy before.”

“Were you working that night?” Chase took the photo from her outstretched hand, tucking it back inside his jacket pocket.

“I work every Friday night, Saturday, too. Tips are better on the weekend.”

“Who else works weekends? Any chance one of the other waitresses waited on him and you didn’t see him?”

The blonde laughed, a throaty chortle. “Mister, there’s no chance I’d have missed him.” She gestured at Chase’s jacket, where the photo lay hidden. “Most of our customers are regulars. Your friend is fine-looking—I’d definitely remember him if he’d come in. He wasn’t here on a Friday night. In fact, I don’t think he’s ever been in here, at least not when I’ve been working and I work six shifts a week.”

“Then I guess I must have misunderstood—maybe he told me he was at another bar in Billings. Are there two bars in town with the same name?”

“No.” She shook her head. “There’s only one Bull ’n’ Bash and God knows, one’s enough.” The bartender roared her name and she glanced over her shoulder. “Gotta get back to work. Let me know if you have any more…questions.” She winked at Chase, ignored Raine and strutted away across the room.

Chase lifted his bottle and drank, his gaze sweeping the room and its occupants. Beside him, Raine swiveled her bottle in a slow circle on the tabletop, her fingers trembling.

“He wasn’t here.” She felt numb with disappointment, only now realizing how desperately she’d been counting on Chase uncovering a lead tonight. “The police said they couldn’t find any evidence he’d been in Billings that night but I didn’t believe it. I was so sure he must have met the letter writer here and left with him.”

“Before we check this place off our list, I’m going to show Trey’s picture to a few more people.” Chase slid out of the booth. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He strolled across the room and joined the group of men leaning against the wall to watch the pool shooters. Raine saw him exchange words with a cowboy on his left, then he showed him Trey’s photo.

She took a sip of beer, swallowed and shuddered. She didn’t like beer and if she hadn’t been so intent on Chase and the response of the men now looking at Trey’s photo, she wouldn’t have lifted the bottle and drank.

“It can’t taste that bad.” A cowboy slid into the booth opposite her, grinning as he nodded at the bottle in front of her. “But since it apparently does, how about letting me buy you something better. A shot of Jose Cuervo, maybe?”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Raine nearly groaned when she met Chase’s gaze across the room and registered the grim set of his mouth as he started toward her. “I have a personal rule against letting strange men buy me drinks.”

“I’m not a strange man, honey. I could get downright friendly if you’re willing.”

“She’s not.”

Both Raine and the cowboy looked up. Raine’s stomach lurched. Though Chase didn’t move, he emanated a lethal threat that stole Raine’s breath.

The young cowboy eased out of the booth, mumbled an apology and headed quickly over to the bar.

“Let’s go.”

Raine slid out of the booth, her body brushing Chase’s as she moved past him. Heat bloomed everywhere they touched, prickling her skin and setting off warning signals. She knew he was dangerous. She’d known before she’d asked for his help in finding Trey that he would probably be difficult to work with. She’d never expected to be physically attracted to him.

She walked ahead of him across the room, aware of him following her.

They stepped out into the night.

“Did any of the men around the pool tables remember seeing Trey?” Raine asked.

“No.” Chase took her arm and guided her down the sidewalk toward his SUV.

“Then he wasn’t here?”

“Hard to say. I don’t think he was inside the bar but it’s possible the letter writer approached him outside.” Chase stepped off the curb, hit the control button to unlock the vehicle. “Or maybe he never made it to Billings.”

Chapter Three

“B ut if he didn’t arrive here, then where is he?” Raine heard the thread of rising panic in her voice and struggled to control the fear squeezing her chest and throat.

“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” Chase gently urged her into the car.

If I had a million dollars, I’d gladly give it all to know you’re safe, Trey, she thought bleakly.

In the seat behind her, Killer woofed softly when Chase pulled open the driver’s door and slid behind the wheel.

“Does Trey spend much time in Billings?” Chase asked.

Raine couldn’t read his expression, though his face was turned toward her.

“Off and on. He comes down for the occasional weekend when he wants a break from Wolf Creek—sometimes I ride along and go shopping, maybe catch a movie.”

“What hotel do you use when you’re here?”

She gave him the name.

“I know where it is.” He backed out of the parking slot. “We’ll check in, show the photo to the bartender at the hotel lounge, and then you can get some sleep.”

“What will you be doing while I’m sleeping?” Raine asked, suspicious that he hadn’t said we can sleep.

“I’ll probably spend most of the night working on my laptop, checking whether there’s been any activity connected to your brother over the last couple of weeks.”

“What kind of activity?”

“Anything—if his credit cards have been used I want to know the location. And if anyone’s cashed checks on his account or used his ID for any purpose, I want any information available on the user. I’ll also run a scan to find out if his car’s license number is on abandoned vehicle records anywhere in the U.S.”

“You think he may have been robbed and his ID stolen?” Raine asked, mulling over the possibilities, trying to control the sick fear knotting her stomach.

“Maybe, maybe not. It’s standard procedure to check everything.”

Raine was silent, absorbing not only Chase’s listing of details, but also what she felt he was omitting, maybe on purpose. If someone else were using Trey’s identification, his credit cards or his checking account, or if his car had been found abandoned, what did that say about Trey’s safety?

She squeezed her eyes shut, silently repeating to herself the essential truth she couldn’t forget, the only thing she had to hold on to: Trey wasn’t dead. He was her twin, their lives were inextricably linked together. If his soul departed this world, she’d feel his leaving as if part of herself were being ripped away.

He’s alive, she told herself fiercely. And we’ll find him.

The SUV slowed and she opened her eyes, startled to realize they’d reached the entrance to the Paramount Hotel. Chase took their bags and his laptop from the backseat, told Killer to heel, and handed a vehicle key to the parking attendant.

“Will they let your dog stay here?” she asked as they crossed the sidewalk to the double glass doors edged in brass.

“Oh, yeah,” he drawled, a faint hint of amusement in his tone. “They like Killer.”

Raine walked beside him into the hotel lobby, the Rottweiler padding behind them.

The man behind the registration counter looked up as they approached, a broad smile instantly creasing his face in welcome. “Mr. McCloud. Good to see you. And you, too, Miss Harper.”

“Hello, Ken.” Raine managed a smile. Ken was a longtime employee of the Paramount; he’d checked her and Trey in and out of the hotel on more than one occasion.

Chase set the two duffel bags and his laptop in its leather case on the carpet next to Killer and took out his wallet. “We need two connecting rooms.”

Startled, Raine opened her mouth to object.

“Certainly, let me check availability,” Ken responded before Raine could protest, his fingers moving rapidly over the computer keyboard. “I don’t have two rooms together but I do have a suite on the third floor.”

“We’ll take it.” Chase handed him a credit card and moments later, scribbled his name on the registration sheet before accepting two key cards. “Will you have the bellman take our luggage upstairs? We’re going into the lounge for a nightcap.”

“Certainly.”

Chase slipped one of the cards into his pocket and handed the other to Raine before taking Trey’s photo from his jacket and laying it on the countertop. “Have you seen this man recently? Within the last few weeks?”

Ken moved the photo closer. “This is your brother, Miss Harper…?”

“Yes.” Raine nodded, her throat constricted.

He gave her a curious look before shaking his head and handing the photo back to Chase. “I’m sorry, but he hasn’t stayed with us for a month or more. I believe the last time I saw him was when the two of you were in town for the Restaurant Owners’ Association dinner, Miss Harper.”

“That was six weeks ago,” Raine commented.

“Thanks, Ken. If you see him, will you give me a call?” Chase exchanged the photo for a card.

“Will do, Mr. McCloud.”

“Killer will go upstairs with the bags.”

“Of course, Mr. McCloud.” Ken beckoned a bellhop to transfer their bags to their suite.

Chase took a thin leather lead from his jacket pocket, snapped it onto Killer’s collar and gave the leash to the bellhop. Without comment, the man took the leash, picked up the bags and headed for the elevators across the lobby.

Astounded, Raine watched the seemingly docile Killer trot by the man’s side as Chase drew her toward the doors leading to the hotel lounge.

“Why do we need connecting rooms or a suite?” she whispered.

“Because I don’t know how late I’ll be working or how quickly I’ll get answers. Depending on responses, I might need to ask you more questions about Trey as the night goes on. You might as well sleep until I have to wake you.” He eyed her. “You said you wanted to help with the investigation. Have you changed your mind?”

“No, of course not,” she said promptly, privately wondering how wise it was to share a hotel suite with a man as dangerous as Chase. Not that he’d made a single move toward her, she thought. It was her reaction to him that bothered her. But since she didn’t plan to let him know her hormones went crazy every time he got within three feet of her, she had no cause for worry.

Chase and Raine took seats at the comfortable, upscale bar. The low-backed stools were upholstered in soft black leather, the surface of the bar in front of them a polished, gleaming ebony.

“Evening, folks. What can I get you?” The bartender looked to be in his thirties and wore the hotel uniform of black slacks, white shirt and red vest.

“Scotch,” Chase told him. “Raine?”

“A glass of white wine.”

Chase waited until he brought their drinks before taking out Trey’s photo once again. “We’re looking for the lady’s brother,” he said. “Have you seen this man during the last few weeks?”

The bartender picked up the photo, tilting it for better light, before handing it back to Chase. “Nope, sorry.”

Raine listened as Chase asked him several questions about other bartenders on the evening shift, what waitresses may have been working and if there were other staff, such as busboys, who might have been in the lounge and seen Trey. The bartender’s answers didn’t give her reason to be hopeful.

He moved away to serve guests farther down the bar and Chase tossed back his drink. “So much for Trey having visited the hotel lounge that night.” He gestured at the untouched glass of wine in front of Raine. “Are you going to drink that?”

“What? Oh…no.”

They left the lounge and crossed the elegant lobby to the elevators. Chase pushed the call button and looked down at her. “We’ve barely started,” he said gruffly. “I didn’t expect to get a solid lead tonight.”

“You didn’t?” Surprised, she met his eyes. “But I thought you felt we would learn something at the Bull ’n’ Bash.”

“It was an outside shot. It’s the first place the police would have gone and chances were their search was thorough. The Bull ’n’ Bash is a bar with a regular clientele; if Trey had been there, he would have stood out. The employees or one of the usual customers would probably have remembered him because he wasn’t a regular. They would have told the cops, who in turn would have told you.”

“Then why did we come here?”

“Because I never accept another professional’s version of the facts.”

“Ah.” Raine nodded. “Being thorough and verifying reports is part of the package that results in your 98 percent success rating.”

“You did your homework before you hired me.”

“Of course.” She eyed him. “I was hoping you’d succeeded in finding your quarry 100 percent of the time.”

“Nobody in the business has a 100 percent record.”

“Does anyone have a 99 percent rating?”

“Not anyone I know.”

“So if Trey can be found, you’re the man most likely to find him.” It wasn’t a question. In fact, Raine realized she was stating her own conviction and hope aloud.

He didn’t reply, merely shrugged.

The elevator chimed and the doors whisked open. A group of five men in business suits, intent on their conversation, left the elevator.

Beside her, Raine felt Chase go suddenly still. She stared up at him and was surprised to see cold menace on his features, his gaze focused intently on the group.

She looked at the men, her swift intake of breath a mere whisper as she recognized Harlan Kerrigan.

A distinguished, silver-haired man was the last to exit the elevator. Deep in conversation with Harlan, he walked past them before he stopped abruptly. Recognition lit his features and he grinned broadly.

“Chase.” He spun on his heel. “Good to see you. How’s your dad?”

“He’s well, Senator Harris. Busy as always,” Chase replied, shaking the man’s outstretched hand.

“That’s our John. I keep telling him he needs a vacation now and then. He should take that pretty mother of yours to Mexico and soak up some sun.” He laughed and looked expectantly at Raine.

“Senator, I’d like you to meet Raine Harper. Raine, this is Senator Bill Harris.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Senator.” Raine held out her hand and smiled. Her gaze didn’t stray to Harlan, standing silently just beyond the senator.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Miss Harper.” The senator smiled benignly. “Your name seems familiar…?”

“Raine and her brother own several businesses in Wolf Creek,” Chase told him.

“Ah, yes, of course. My wife and I stayed at the Harper Hotel last summer.”

“I hope you enjoyed your time with us,” Raine replied.

“We did. I was impressed with the friendliness of the staff,” the senator said. “Well, I’d better let you two go.” He looked at Harlan. “I’m holding up a business meeting.”

Harlan managed a polite smile for the senator, however his expression held barely concealed dislike as he swept Chase and Raine with an assessing, cold stare.

Raine’s scalp prickled. She felt an urge to step back out of the line of fire. But the senator merely lifted an eyebrow at Chase, nodded slightly in what appeared to be an acknowledgment of some sort and drew Harlan away.

Chase appeared to dismiss the incident; he pushed the elevator call button again. The doors sprang open immediately and he took Raine’s arm, ushering her inside.

The doors slid shut, cutting off their view of the lobby just as Harlan and the senator disappeared through the archway into the restaurant.

“Well, that was interesting,” Raine said, unable to let the matter drop.

Chase looked directly at her, and she had to steel herself to keep from retreating before the anger in the fierce, bright blue eyes. “What?” he said, the very softness and lack of inflection in his voice a threat.

“You and Harlan Kerrigan.” Raine cocked her head to one side, eyeing him. “You reminded me of two heavyweight boxers being weighed in on ESPN before the big fight. The air practically crackled with hostility. I expected the two of you to take a swing at each other any minute.”

“Boxers?” He seemed taken aback. “What do you know about boxers psyching each other out before a fight?”

“My dad was a boxing fan,” she explained, pleased to have surprised him. “I grew up watching film clips of Smokin’ Joe Frazier and Cassius Clay, before he renamed himself Muhammad Ali. Let’s see, who else? Oh, yes. Mike Tyson. Dad wasn’t a big fan of Tyson, though.”

“I remember watching fights with your dad,” Chase said, a faint smile brightening his somber features. “But I don’t recall you being there.”

“I didn’t start watching boxing with him until after Mike died,” Raine said. She used her brother’s name purposely, intent on reading Chase’s features as he registered her remark.

His face went blank.

The elevator pinged a warning and the doors whisked open.

“This is our floor,” Chase said.

She didn’t miss the fact that he hadn’t responded when she’d brought up Mike. Interesting, she thought. She’d always wondered how Chase felt about Mike’s death. Had he grieved the loss of his best friend? Did he still? Or did he resent and blame Mike for the years he had spent in jail after Mike died?

She was no nearer to the answer now than she’d been fifteen years ago. And she still wanted to know, needed to know if the boy she’d adored as a little girl still existed, deep inside the complicated, dangerous man walking by her side.