USA TODAY bestselling author Regan Black thrills us with this adrenaline-fueled romance in her new series, Escape Club Heroes!

The stalker shadowing lawyer Julia Cooper’s every move is vowing to ruin her life—unless she discloses information about a major criminal case. For discreet help, she turns to the shadowy Escape Club, where investigative brainpower and brawn are for hire. Mitch Galway, a firefighter on leave, becomes Julia’s round-the-clock bodyguard. All sculpted biceps, sexy bravado and conflicted past, Mitch works overtime to uncover the identity of the person hunting her. But as they track the creep getting way too close, Julia must share more of herself with the intriguing man protecting her…which puts them both high on a lunatic’s hit list.

“Why would anyone believe I’d cave to this kind of intimidation?” Julia said.

Mitch preferred the defiance in her eyes. “Every contact so far implies the stalker intends to use you as an inside source.”

“Yeah, I got that loud and clear.” Julia pursed her lips. “We both know I can’t do what he wants. What happens then?”

“We’ll burn that bridge if we get there.” Somehow he’d make sure the stalker didn’t push things that far. “You won’t have to face that dilemma.”

“Hmm. Your confidence is impressive, Mr. Galway.”

He shot her a grin. “Hopefully it’s contagious, too, Miss Cooper. Take all you want.”

She smiled, genuinely amused despite the lingering worry shadowing her green eyes. “Thanks.”

As they walked back, she slid her hand into his. That expression of budding trust slipped over him, made him feel ten feet tall and invincible. This wasn’t the first time he’d made a promise with no foolproof plan for how to back it up.

He wouldn’t let this be the first time he let someone down.

* * *

Be sure to check out the next books in this miniseries. Escape Club Heroes: Off-duty justice, full-time love

* * *

If you’re on Twitter, tell us what you think of Harlequin Romantic Suspense! #harlequinromsuspense

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and a new adventure into the world of my Escape Club Heroes. The Escape, a riverside nightclub owned by a retired police officer, is known for hot bands, but it maintains a quieter reputation for helping people with problems that fall through the cracks of typical law enforcement.

When she becomes the object of an aggressive stalker, Julia Cooper seeks help from the Escape to unravel the threats to her career as well as her life. Unfortunately, she can’t decide if being under the watchful eye of Mitch Galway makes things better or worse. Julia has hidden her true motivations for her career success from the world for so long that I knew it would take a special kind of hero to crack through the wall around her heart.

Mitch, a Philly firefighter currently moonlighting as an Escape bartender, is a remarkable guy and he intrigued me from the start. Firefighters are vital, everyday heroes in our communities and they have a place of honor in my heart. I am forever grateful for the swift response, expertise and compassion of the crew that saved our family home during a New Year’s Eve party when I was a kid.

Julia and Mitch felt like dear friends to me as I was writing their story and I hope you’ll soon feel the same way. Enjoy their story and keep an eye out for more Escape Club Heroes on the horizon.

Live the adventure,

Regan Black

Safe in His Sight

Regan Black

www.millsandboon.co.uk

REGAN BLACK, a USA TODAY bestselling author, writes award-winning, action-packed novels featuring kick-butt heroines and the sexy heroes who fall in love with them. Raised in the Midwest and California, she and her family, along with their adopted greyhound, two arrogant cats and a quirky finch, reside in the South Carolina Lowcountry, where the rich blend of legend, romance and history fuels her imagination.

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To Mark, for twenty-five years we’ve held hands through life’s roller coasters, speed bumps and temporary derailments. You’ve offered your belief when mine wanes, your humor when I’m frustrated and your superb lasagna when I’m on deadline. Thank you for being my forever hero every day!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

The crisp autumn breeze of a clear, late September day kissed Julia Cooper’s cheeks as she exited the Marburg Law Firm. It still gave her a happy thrill to know she belonged here in this historic limestone building with the impeccable Philadelphia-proper address.

Once again, as she walked up the street toward the Liberty Bell Center to have her lunch, she startled passersby with her persistent smile. Despite her valiant efforts, the expression couldn’t be muted when she was out of the office. It was a side effect of being unexpectedly added to the major criminal case old man Marburg himself had just picked up.

State and federal authorities had been working for over a year to crack open a highly organized car-theft ring operating out of the docks on the Delaware River. The FBI had Danny Falk, a man purported to be one of the higher-ranking locals in the operation, in an undisclosed safe house. Julia hadn’t recognized the name, only that Falk apparently had enough clout or money—or the right connections—to have Marburg canceling two of his three weekly golf games.

She found an empty bench in a swath of sunshine and opened her lunch bag, pulling out her usual blend of fresh salad greens topped with shredded chicken and a light drizzle of dressing. Eating lean and healthy in law school might have made her a little boring, but it had given her an advantage over her boozing and pizza-loving peers. The advantage carried over to her demanding job. She dug into her meal while she skimmed local and regional headlines on her phone. At a prestigious firm like Marburg, it paid to stay on top of current events.

The chime sounded for a text message and she swiped her screen to check it. The number wasn’t familiar, though the area code was local. Her assumption about a wrong number evaporated instantly.

Hello, Julia. Are you having vinaigrette or ranch on today’s salad?

More than a little uncomfortable, Julia returned her fork to the bowl, glancing around for the person messing with her. None of her fellow associates at the firm cared how she dressed a salad enough to find out even for the sake of a prank. They all thought she was odd for leaving the building most days to eat outside. The true benefit of taking her lunch break in the park was the daily boost of sunshine, another rare commodity for a new hire at Marburg.

Ignoring the juvenile stunt, she resumed her lunch and headline search.

You look better in blue. And I prefer the skirt.

This text message arrived with a picture of her in yesterday’s charcoal skirt and white sweater.

A rush of nerves skated over her skin. Who had been watching her and how had she missed it? She forced herself to chew and swallow the peppery greens that had turned to tasteless mush in her mouth. Quickly she packed the remainder of her salad and prepared to head back to the office.

Don’t go. I’d like us to be friends.

Fat chance, starting off like this, she thought. Knowing better, she sent a reply. Who are you? What do you want?

Who I am is irrelevant. I want what most men want when they look at you: insider access.

What did that mean? Was that some sort of sick innuendo? Her hands trembled. She lowered them to her lap to hide her reflexive fear. Glancing around, she searched again for the jerk behind this ill-mannered trick.

Let’s take a walk, Julia.

She refused to play his game. Pulling her tote close to her side, she leaned back on the bench and stretched out her legs, pretending to watch a group of schoolkids having fun on their field trip to the Liberty Bell Center.

I said walk. You should cooperate with me. Your choices today will have long-term consequences.

She ignored those texts. Another arrived, this time a photo of her moments ago, sitting on the bench, eyes on her phone eating the salad that was now souring her stomach. She followed the angle of the picture, frustrated when no one seemed to have any undue interest in her.

I’m walking, Julia. Get up and join me.

Stubborn and feeling a modicum of safety among the numerous people in the park, she remained on her bench. The phone was blissfully quiet for several minutes. Maybe he’d moved on to someone willing to satisfy his bid for attention.

You don’t want to be late.

He might know about her lunch hour habits, but he couldn’t know anything about her wants. She spotted a policeman on patrol and gathered up her tote. Hoping she wasn’t being too obvious, she aimed that direction.

The cop is a mistake. Talk to him and he’ll die as quickly as the other witnesses.

She stutter-stepped at that message as her gaze raked wildly over the people in the park. There was only one local case with witnesses who had dropped dead within days of cooperating with the authorities: the Falk car-theft ring. She changed direction, pausing at the next trash can, making sure the cop moved by without any exchange with her. This time as she looked around, she saw a man in an orange ball cap with the city’s hockey team logo standing a few yards behind her. Her heart pounding, she raised her phone at him and pressed the camera icon.

The man in the cap didn’t react. Maybe she’d guessed wrong and he was unfortunate enough to be the object of her swelling paranoia. She crossed at the light with a group of pedestrians, picking up her pace as she neared her building, thankful she didn’t have far to go.

Relax, Julia. I need you alive.

She could hear the unwritten threat: for now. Almost to the front door, another text popped up on the screen.

Save my number, Julia, and keep me informed. I need to know the names your client is dropping.

She couldn’t divulge that information under any circumstances. Her personal and professional ethics wouldn’t allow it. Unsettled, telling herself it was a lousy attempt at intimidation, she hurried into the building, grateful for the sturdy shelter of limestone and the friendly, weathered face of the security guard standing by at the information desk. “How was lunch, Miss Cooper?”

“Great.” The word sounded too bright, too sharp, and it bounced off the marble columns and floor of the first-floor gallery. She forced her lips into a smile. “The fresh air always perks me up, Arthur,” she replied in a calmer tone. She caved to the mounting pressure to look over her shoulder. She hadn’t been mistaken at all. The man in the hockey cap was there, on the other side of Walnut Street, boldly aiming his camera at the Marburg building.

Just a gutsy reporter, she told herself, not believing it for a second as she hurried toward the elevators. Out of his sight at last, she took a deep breath and forced her racing thoughts to slow down. Her attachment to the case wasn’t yet in the public record. Reporters had no reason to fixate on her. A reporter wouldn’t threaten a cop’s life because she’d been tempted to seek help. Whoever had rigged this stunt wanted to scare her.

She was mildly ashamed it had worked so well. Upstairs at her desk, she took several minutes to document the text messages, a limited description of the man in the ball cap, and her gut feelings about the whole mess. She did save the number, to add it to a potential police report rather than out of any sense of obedience. The small, positive actions eased the tension in her shoulders and enabled her to sink into the Falk case, studying the raw statements the team had gathered so far.

When her phone chirped with an email alert from her personal account, she ignored it. She ignored the next two alerts, as well, and set the phone to vibrate. When the fourth alert came through within three minutes, she gave up. Saying a quick prayer her bad day wouldn’t get worse with some pseudoemergency request from her mother, she checked her inbox.

The emails appeared to be from the notifications address of her favorite cosmetics store, but instead of a graphic or coupon, the attachments were pictures of her. Julia’s breath backed up in her lungs as she examined the numerous images from the past week. It took a moment for her to realize the pictures were labeled Day 1, Day 2, etc., matching the time line precisely to how long she’d been on the Falk case.

Her stomach clenched. How had she missed this jerk following her to and from work, out to lunch and to the gym in the evenings? Pulse skittering, she clamped her lips together, biting back the scream building in her throat. Thank God she didn’t have an exterior office with a view. She was safe in here, two rows of cubicles between her and the windows.

Still, it required a significant effort to stay in her chair when she wanted to cower under the desk and hide from the man on the street below. She flexed and stretched her hands, bunching up the fabric of her slacks in her fists and smoothing it out over and over again, until the anxiety subsided. She was strong, capable. When she regained a measure of calm, she downloaded and saved each photo attachment from her email account, adding them to the file she’d created less than an hour ago.

She enlarged the single picture she’d caught of the man in the ball cap, searching out any details in the shadows of his face for possible identification against Falk’s known associates. There just wasn’t enough to go on with the shadows from the bill of the cap and the dark sunglasses that blocked his eyes. Although he seemed of average height compared with the nearest passersby on the sidewalk, the blue windbreaker hid his real build.

Julia swore when yet another email arrived. No picture this time, just one sentence: You will keep me informed.

Her temper quickened and she fought the urge to send back a scathing reply. He might not realize it, but she would never jeopardize her career or the safety of a client over a random stranger’s overblown sense of power. Having learned the hard way that pride and temper could negate strength and capability in a challenging situation, she carefully considered her options.

She couldn’t go to the police without talking to her bosses first. Discussing this with one of the investigators on staff would have the same result. Both options would likely get her dumped from the case. While leaving the case might make her less valuable to the stalker, opportunities like the Falk case didn’t come along every day. There were fifty other associates ready to snap up her spot if she was removed. And what was there to say? A man found my personal number, followed me and took pictures of me around the city. So what? It was an inconvenience, a nuisance, not a crime.

She could wait him out. He’d proved he had access and he was sneaky, but she was aware of him now. Other than more creepy attempts to frighten her, there wasn’t much else he could do to intimidate her. The firm knew everything about her—all the way back to the unhappy life she’d mostly escaped—having done their due diligence before hiring her. There weren’t any skeletons in a forgotten closet to shake loose and use against her.

Her phone hummed with yet another personal email. Damn it. She reached to turn off the device and noticed this time the email appeared to be from her bank.

She swore again, her stomach knotted with dread as she opened the email. A screen shot showing a mobile deposit and immediate transfer of nine thousand dollars filled her phone screen. Another email hit her inbox, this one an alert from her credit card showing she’d purchased a twenty-thousand-dollar entertainment system.

“Dear God.” She closed her eyes, knowing how that sort of thing would look to her bosses, as well as an outside auditor. As if defense attorneys weren’t typically considered corrupt to start with, now her finances actually reflected bad practices.

She picked up her desk phone to report the credit card fraud, determined to keep her cool until she knew why she’d been targeted this way.

A text popped up on her phone screen, the words raising the hair on the back of her neck. Reporting it is useless. I control your accounts now. I control YOU now.

She struggled for a calm breath, to think her way through this choking fear. He had her money? No. No! Panic lanced through her with razor-tipped claws. Switching to her bank’s website, she discovered he was serious. Even her password recovery email address bounced back as incorrect.

If you want your life back you will cooperate.

Mitch Galway grabbed longneck bottles of beer three at a time from the coolers under the bar. At just past ten, the Escape Club was packed to capacity and the crowd was working up a profit-turning thirst as they danced and screamed and sang along with the bands on tonight’s schedule. His next customers ordered the everyday special and Mitch popped open canned beer with one hand while pouring bourbon into shot glasses with the other.

He glanced up at the stage when the last notes of the current song faded away. In the momentary lull, the lead singer introduced the owner of the club as guest drummer for the next set. Grant Sullivan knew drums, the Philly music scene and how to keep men like Mitch from going stir-crazy when they fell on tough times.

This was Mitch’s second week at the Escape and the only thing keeping him sane since the Philadelphia Fire Department had placed him on administrative leave. More than anything he wanted to stay connected with the action at his firehouse on the west side of town, but he didn’t dare. Getting impatient would only drag out his case and keep him off the job longer. He owed Grant big-time for giving him all the shifts he could handle between now and whenever the PFD reinstated him.

Another customer served, he moved on to the next. The bustling crowd kept his mind off the troubling thought of how long it might be before he worked a fire. He took an order, admiring the approach of a striking redhead. Chin up, it was as if she dared the whole world to try to take a shot or give her a kiss. He imagined those rosy lips could level a man with a technical knockout.

She squeezed close to the bar. No wedding band. He wondered where her boyfriend was. Maybe it was a girl’s night out. “What can I get for you?” He leaned over the bar so she wouldn’t have to shout her answer.

“I need to speak with Alexander.”

Huh. That phrase meant the lady was in some sort of trouble. “All right.” Following Escape Club protocol, Mitch scooped ice into a glass and filled it with water. Anyone who came into the bar and asked for Alexander needed to speak privately with Grant. Usually it was a matter of protection, or an assist getting out of a tough situation. Mitch dropped a straw into the glass and pushed it across the bar toward her. Giving a nod toward the stage, he said, “He’s on the drums. I’ll take you back as soon as he’s done.”

She gave a quick nod, her hands closing around the water glass, but she didn’t drink.

He continued to work the crowd, keeping an eye on her, noting the way she repeatedly peered over her shoulder and took careful stock of the people ebbing and flowing around her. He interrupted his service rhythm just long enough to send Grant a text message.

Shortly after Grant exited the stage to cheers and applause, Mitch’s cell phone hummed.

“Alexander’s waiting for you,” he said to the redhead.

Her lips compressed to a thin, stern line, she slid off the stool and joined him at the end of the bar. He led her to Grant’s office and stepped aside for her to enter. Intending to give them privacy, he didn’t follow.

“Join us,” Grant said, waving him inside.

With a nod, Mitch entered the office, closed the door and leaned back against it.

His boss extended a hand to the woman for a brisk handshake. “Grant Sullivan. You’ve met my bartender, Mitch Galway.”

“Julia Cooper.” She slid a wary glance at Mitch but didn’t shake his hand. “Yes.”

“Have a seat, please.” Grant’s chair creaked as he landed in it. The man was built like a boxer, stocky and solid, yet light on his feet with an energy that frequently outlasted his younger employees. “How did you hear about Alexander, Miss Cooper?”

“A woman I work out with had a problem a few months ago. You helped her.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Grant maintained a friendly but cautious reserve. With his salt-and-pepper hair and kind brown eyes, he had a way of putting people as ease. “What sort of trouble are you having?” he queried, his voice full of that patience Mitch admired.

Julia reached into her purse and swiped her cell phone screen before handing it to Grant. “A man sent me threatening text messages during my lunch break and the situation quickly escalated. He followed me back to the law firm where I work. Those pictures arrived in my personal email account shortly after I got back to my desk.”

“Quick worker. I’d guess you’re probably not his first.” Grant looked up, his gaze sharp on the potential client. “You’re a lawyer?”

She nodded. “Everything related to my problem is in that file.”

A lawyer with an impatient stalker, thought Mitch. An impatient stalker seemed like an oxymoron, but he wasn’t the expert.

“You just noticed him today?” Grant peered intently at her phone, swiping through whatever information she’d gathered.

“Yes.” She paused while a quiver twitched across her shoulders. “The pictures were taken over the past few days. That’s why I’m here.”

“I see.” Grant continued his study. “Have you spoken to the police?”

“I don’t think the police can help me in time. They’d have to catch him stalking me and I have a feeling that won’t be easy. Average height, average build, no stand-out features.” She sighed. “And it could take months—if ever—for the FBI to figure out who hacked my credit card and bank account,” she said. “On top of that, based on the timing and the wording of those texts, I have to assume he’s fixated on me because of a criminal case I’m working. He could jeopardize my participation in the case, not to mention my career.”

Grant’s mouth flexed into a frown. “The car-theft ring?”

“Yes.”

Mitch stifled an admiring whistle. It was the biggest case in the local news. Every branch of law enforcement had been trying to bust the operation, but witnesses and informants regularly wound up dead. The FBI had snatched one of the key players and managed to keep him alive—so far—and he’d lawyered up with the best defense firm in the area.

Grant scowled at her, his eyes narrowed. “You’re with Marburg?”

“Yes.” She glanced over her shoulder at Mitch before addressing Grant again. “Will that be a problem?”

“No.”

The answer made Grant a better man than Mitch. In his boss’s shoes, he wouldn’t want to help anyone associated with Marburg. Their legal team had represented the bastard who’d shot and wounded Grant, ending his career with the Philly police department.

“Mitch will help you out,” Grant said. “He’ll be a buffer between you and the stalker until we can make an ID. He can investigate who might want to target you.”

The announcement startled Mitch. Stalkers and investigations sounded like a problem better suited to one of the cops moonlighting at the Escape.

“Buffer? Is that code for bodyguard?” Julia asked. “The partners will know something’s up if he’s tagging along behind me at the office.”

“Tell them he’s your boyfriend,” Grant suggested.

“That would be worse. No offense,” she clarified, eyeing Mitch. “A new associate with a personal life is frowned upon.”

Mitch shrugged a shoulder, holding his ground and taking her measure as she took his. She didn’t strike him as the type to scare easy. Not with the deep red hair and sheer defiance in her stormy sea green eyes. He couldn’t wait to see what the stalker had done to drive her here. Not that it mattered beyond getting the guy off her. When Grant handed out assignments, it was best not to argue. “Is there a different excuse you’d rather use?”

“No,” she replied through gritted teeth.

“I won’t create any trouble for you at work,” Mitch assured her. “I’ll follow your lead and won’t even enter the building unless I’m following your stalker.” He understood the value of privacy and discretion in the workplace.

Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “All right. I’ll be safe enough at the office and at home. I have a security system in my apartment.”

“If you want our help, you’ll accept that he’ll be with you around the clock,” Grant corrected. “At least until we identify the man and his motives.”

“I’m not comfortable with that.” Her shoulders locked up again. “Surely, Mr. Galway—”

“Mitch.”

“—has better things to do than tail me.” She glared at his interruption.

“If you’re sure you can handle this, why did you ask for my help?” Grant voiced the question even as Mitch thought it.

“I... That is...” She stopped and cleared her throat, those tempestuous eyes skimming over him from head to toe once more before darting back to Grant. “I do need the buffer,” she admitted, reluctance dripping from every syllable. “Twenty-four/seven is more than I expected.”

“Good!” Grant beamed. “We aim to exceed expectations in every aspect of our operation.” He stood, returned her cell phone and brought the meeting to an end. “Send me a copy of that file, Miss Cooper. I added my contact information to your phone. Mitch, I’ll cover the rest of your shift at the bar. You take good care of our new client.”

“Of course.” Mitch opened the door, tipping his head for her to go first. The woman wasn’t happy, but she’d stopped protesting. His curiosity about her and the situation revved into high gear and he found a new appreciation for the free time created by his administrative leave.

Maybe this unexpected career detour would prove a little more interesting than he’d thought.

Chapter 2

Knowing it was the smart choice, her only choice, to accept help, Julia wondered why it felt like such an irrevocable mistake. When her friend had enlisted the Escape Club’s help, she hadn’t mentioned dealing with anyone as tall and imposing and...virile as Mitch.

Virile. Yes, that was the best word to describe him as he stood silently looming over her in the hallway between the raucous club and the office. His brown eyes were intense and curious. He kept his thick blond hair short and burnished gold whiskers shaded his jaw. His bright blue uniform polo shirt with the club logo embroidered on the chest hugged his defined biceps and trim torso that narrowed to trim hips and long legs. She had her doubts that any fat cells would dare to linger on his fit frame.

She’d dated a guy in law school who’d worked his body into this kind of shape. That guy hadn’t been interested in anything that didn’t benefit him directly. This man had been assigned to stand between her and the stalker who’d turned her life inside out in the space of an afternoon. She wondered if he had as many doubts about that 24/7 concept as she did. Willing away her immediate reaction to his tall, fit form, she raised her gaze to meet his and caught the spark of amusement.

“Satisfied?” he asked, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his khakis.

“How tall are you?” Her cheeks turned warm when she realized she’d voiced the question.

“Six-three most days. Am I taller than your stalker?”

“Yes, I think so. Fortunately, he hasn’t been close enough for me to be sure. Yet.”

“And I won’t let him get that close.”

The determined set of his mouth gave her a ridiculous amount of reassurance. Did he practice that expression? He hadn’t even done anything truly helpful yet.

“What do you need, Julia? Should we stay for the music so you can unwind or should I take you home?”

“I’d like to go home.” What was it about his voice that sliced through her defenses? Home didn’t sound scary anymore and yet nothing had changed. Not really. A stranger was still out there somewhere, expecting her to cooperate. What was the protocol for dealing with a temporary bodyguard? “What does twenty-four/seven mean?”

“You’re an attorney. I think you’re smart enough to figure that out.”

“You can’t really expect to...to stay with me,” she protested. She needed more space in her life, more than the average person. Her mother, friends and both former boyfriends were all in agreement on that.

His eyebrows dipped low over his eyes. “Do you believe you were followed here?”

“No.” She swallowed, knowing the immediate response might be inaccurate. She couldn’t know for sure. She’d just admitted to two strangers that a man had followed her for days and she’d been none the wiser. “At least I don’t think so.”

“Did you drive here?”

She shook her head, forcing her gaze to remain on his eyes. Steady eye contact conveyed confidence, and she needed him to know she wasn’t always frightened of every shadow. “I thought a cab was the safer choice.”

“Probably right on that one. Safety in numbers, I guess,” he said, echoing her deciding thought.

She folded her arms over her chest. “How many women have you saved from stalkers?”

His eyebrows arched and his lips twitched into a half smile, but his voice was serious. “I’ve only been on the job here for two weeks. That makes you my first.”

She rolled her eyes to the dingy ceiling tiles over his head. “Grant assigned you to me because I’m with Marburg. He’s going through the motions for me, that’s all.” She fisted her hands in her coat pockets. “This was a mistake.” She’d find a way to navigate this on her own.

“Hey.” Mitch stepped closer, crowding her. “You came here for good reason. We can help. Personally, I think the boss would be within his rights to turn away anyone from your firm. But he didn’t. That’s not how he operates. Just because I’ve never done something doesn’t mean I can’t do it. I happen to know a few things about getting people out of trouble.”

“Then show me your skills,” she said, spreading her arms wide and then dropping them back to her sides. “What comes next?”

He’d better have some answers, because she was at an absolute loss. Another trickle of icy fear rolled down her spine. If she turned away from Escape’s help, the cab fare home would wipe out most of the cash in her wallet. She had more money stashed away at home, but not nearly enough to cover her expenses if the stalker didn’t give her access to her accounts. Trying to focus on what she could control, on choosing the best option out of the short and lousy list, she pressed her lips together and waited.

“One step at a time,” Mitch began in a soothing voice. “I’ll drive you home. I’ll walk through your place and make a decision after that.”

Him. In her apartment. An image popped into her head, confounding her. The studio space was almost too small for her. “What kind of decision?”

He gave her a pleasant smile she didn’t quite trust. “One step at a time,” he repeated. “Come on.”

“Where?” she asked as he turned his back. Faced with the view of his wide shoulders tapering to lean hips, her feet moved forward of their own volition. Her responses to him embarrassed her, made her feel too much like her mother—the woman who used anyone and everyone in her orbit. “This kind of thing doesn’t happen to me.”

“Okay.” He kept walking.

She followed. “I’m not a drama queen.”

“Got it.” He pulled open a door at the end of the hall, encouraging her to enter first. “Break room,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “I need to grab my coat and keys. Unless you changed your mind about staying for the band?”

“No, thank you.” She scolded the voice in her head that encouraged her to forget responsibilities and problems and dance all night with Mitch. “I have to be at the office early tomorrow.”

With a nod, he pulled a worn leather bomber jacket from a peg on the near wall and shrugged it over his shoulders. It fell into place as if he’d been born in it.

The burst of attraction zipped through her veins. She blamed it on some unruly, misplaced version of hero worship. He hadn’t even done anything but hand her a glass of water and introduce her to Grant. For all she knew this would backfire.

“Mr. Galway—”

“Mitch. We’re going to be inseparable for a while, Julia.”

He made it sound so ominous. And so tempting, she thought with a mental sigh. She ignored that hero-worshiping voice. “Right. Mitch.” She tested his name as he led her out the back door and into the dark night.

The void of the Delaware River stretching away in both directions startled her and she stopped short. She’d forgotten the club was perched at the end of a pier. On the opposite riverbank, New Jersey sparkled. Little more than the bass of the band was audible once the door closed behind them. She knew thousands of people were nearby, in restaurants and bars, condos and businesses, but right now, she couldn’t see any of them. The solitude was blissful.

The cool night air slipped under her coat and she shivered. Mitch stepped up and wrapped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his warmth as they walked up the pier to the parking area across the street. Immediately, her body resisted the invasion of her personal space. Just her luck she’d get saddled with a touchy-feely type of buffer. “Do you have to touch me?”

“Relax, play along. If you were followed here, being with me will throw your stalker a curveball.”

Followed. One more fear to add to the heap, though the idea of putting the stalker off balance appealed to her. The jerk had demonstrated too much familiarity with her life and habits this afternoon. Giving in, she leaned into Mitch’s solid body as if she could truly count on a man she’d just met. No, it wasn’t smart, but it wasn’t forever. Her entire life had been one lesson after another proving she was better off handling things on her own.

Until now. It had been quite a blow this afternoon to realize she had no idea how to overcome a situation where her opponent operated so swiftly and effectively from the shadows.

“How do you think he found out so much about me in such a short amount of time?”

“That’s a tough question. I’ll need a look at the file you assembled.” Mitch’s fingers flexed on her shoulder through her coat. “We’ll figure it out.”

“How?” She had the impression he was holding back his real opinion of her and her situation. “You think he knows me.” Anxiety slid through her belly and she gazed out over the parking lot, expecting to see that orange cap. “Or maybe you believe I’m exaggerating the circumstances.”

His sharp inhale was followed by a vapor cloud as he exhaled into the cold night air. “You don’t hold back much, do you?” He slipped a key into the door lock of a classic muscle car and opened the door for her. “Slide in,” he suggested when she stood there waiting for his reply.

“Answer me,” she said. “Please,” she added a beat too late to be considered polite.

He laughed. “You’ll get answers. In the meantime, let’s get warm.”

She gave the car a long look. The glossy, midnight-blue finish reflected the nearby lights as if they were stars in the sky. Sinking into the passenger seat, she discovered supple leather upholstery and polished walnut accents on the dashboard, console and gearshift.

“I’m impressed,” she said when Mitch settled his tall frame behind the steering wheel.

“It loses points as a classic with the high-end upgrades rather than original features,” he said. “But I like it better.”

“Must have cost you a fortune.”

“You can bet I’ll charge someone a fortune when I sell it.” He shot her a wink as the engine roared to life.

She pulled her feet away from the vibration as he chuckled again. “You rebuild cars when you’re not bartending at Escape?”

“Sometimes.” He blew into his cupped hands to warm them. “Where to?”

She gave him her address, relieved her voice didn’t catch. When she’d walked to work this morning, her world had been normal and safe. Since the stalker had stormed into her life, any thought of going home—going anywhere she typically went—set off that clawing panic.

“City girl all the way, huh?” he asked.

“It’s close to the office.” She wasn’t inclined to share more about her life than necessary to resolve her problem. In her experience, sharing didn’t change how people saw her.

“Some people like to get away and enjoy a change of scenery at the end of the day.”

She bristled at the not-so-subtle judgment in his statement. Some people didn’t work new-associate hours at the best and largest law firm in the city. “The proximity of my home and office should make keeping track of me easier,” she said, hoping her irritation wasn’t too obvious.

“Proximity? Fair point,” he allowed.

“So, you rebuild cars when you’re not tending bar?” She wanted to know what kind of skills he had and how he planned to use them to help her. Details she should have hammered out with Grant rather than simply rolling along because she was scared and well out of her element.

“Among other things. Normally I restore cars when I’m not fighting fires.”

“Galway,” she said as the name clicked into place. “I read about your case.” It had been a big headline a few weeks ago. “The fire department suspended you for punching a victim at a fire scene.” She had a sudden vision of Mitch planting a fist into her stalker’s face. It was surprisingly satisfying.

Mitch snorted. “Not the best fifteen minutes of fame for the PFD or me.” He drummed his fingers on the gearshift while they waited for a red light to change. “Perp is a better word for that sorry excuse of a man.”

“What happened?”

“What do you really want to know?”

She hesitated. “I’d like to hear your side of it.” Her natural curiosity had occasionally proved helpful at work, but on a personal level it usually got her in trouble. “Only if you want to share.” Would a man with a quick temper be an asset or a hindrance in her situation? “The news offered up teasers at first, but nothing real ever came out when the PFD went silent and applied the ‘ongoing investigation’ comment.”

“Thank God for small favors.”

If he’d been her client, she would agree with him. As her buffer, she wanted to know who he was behind the sculpted biceps and handsome bravado. She cleared her throat. “Well? Do you want to tell me?”

He drove another few blocks in silence. “Look, I’ve been part of the PFD all my life,” he said at last. “First as a fireman’s kid and later as a volunteer before I graduated the academy and earned a spot on my own merit.” He worked through the gears and then squeezed through a narrow gap in traffic to make the last left turn onto her street.

“Are you trying to scare me?” she demanded, bracing herself against the door.

“No,” he said, startled by her outburst. “Sorry. Sorry,” he repeated with more sincerity. “The whole mess annoys me.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t drive when you’re annoyed.” She reached into her purse for the key to her apartment. “Take the alley behind the building,” she said, pointing out the turn.

“Where can I park?”

She swallowed another surge of nerves. “Guest spaces are at the end of the back row. We’ll have to give your name and plate number to the doorman.” And how many days he planned to stay.

“No problem.” He parked in the designated spot and cut the engine.

It felt like a problem to her. She could already hear the teasing remarks from Mr. Capello when he heard the boyfriend excuse. Her doorman was warm and helpful, and forever encouraging her to live a little.

It’s temporary. She repeated the words in her mind as she reached for the car door handle.

“Hang on a second,” Mitch said, laying a hand gently on her arm. “The guy came at me, all right? At best, the man’s negligence nearly killed his little girl. Kitchen fire got out of control. He, the dad...um.” He took a deep breath. “We heard her. Still not sure how. Managed to get her out. Saved that whole row of houses, by the way,” he added. “Not that he gave a damn about that.” Mitch closed his eyes a moment. “She was so thin. No weight to her at all. The paramedics took her out of my arms and started working on her.” Opening his eyes, he stared at his hands as if reliving it. “When I asked the father why his kid had been locked in a closet, he came at me, fists flying. Trying to shut me up, I guess.”

She was almost sorry she’d asked. “The father threw the first punch?”

Mitch lifted his gaze to hers, his jaw tight with the recollection. “Does it matter?”

“Yes.” Character made all the difference. With her lousy track record with first impressions and reading people, she preferred to have things spelled out clearly. She preferred the evidence of actions over all the right words.

“He threw the first punch,” Mitch confirmed. “My union rep says witness videos support my account that I defended myself until they hauled him off me. He was older—it wouldn’t have been right to flatten him. It was a shock to me and everyone on my shift when he filed the complaint.”

“Thanks,” she said, satisfied. In the awkward silence, she patted his hand. Grabbing her purse, she climbed out of the low-slung car before he could come around and open her door.

She picked up her mail and somehow survived the wink and waggling eyebrows of the doorman while they filled out the information for Mitch’s car.

In the elevator, Mitch laughed over the encounter and Julia tried to join him, though she wasn’t feeling it. Another shiver of fear or awareness or some troubling combination of the two swept over her as she opened her apartment door and invited Mitch inside. Without a word, he closed the door and secured both dead bolt locks, while she punched in her code on the security system panel.

In this neighborhood, she couldn’t afford a big place, and living alone, working long hours, anything more than this tidy efficiency would’ve been a waste of money. Unfortunately, just as she’d thought, Mitch’s presence filled the small space to bursting and he’d barely stepped inside. He couldn’t possibly stay here with her—they’d run out of oxygen by morning.

“Go ahead and look around.” She forced out the words. No one was here, waiting to spring an attack. “We’d only trip over each other if I gave you a guided tour.”

The kitchen to the right and the living area in front of them were self-explanatory anyway. In three strides, he peered around the canvas privacy screen she used to designate her bedroom. Printed with Monet’s water lily pond, she suddenly felt overexposed, as if he could see straight through to those last secret soft spots she kept hidden from the rest of the world.

Ignoring what would be a swift orientation, out of habit she dropped her purse and keys on the chair, along with the mail. When she realized that the only space left for them to sit together was the love seat, she changed her mind and moved things to the table snugged under the kitchen pass-through. She’d have to clear that by morning to make room for him to eat breakfast.

The last time she’d had a roommate was during her undergrad years. She’d skimped and scraped through law school without having to share her space. Did he expect her to cook for them? Should she come up with a schedule so they weren’t tripping over each other?

A small, square note card envelope dropped to the floor, distracting her. White, no postmark, only her first name typed in all caps as an address, it stood out against the nearly black hardwood floors. “It’s nothing bad,” she murmured to herself. Could be any number of happy things, she thought, willing it to be true as she crouched down to pick up the envelope.

“All clear,” Mitch said. “Nice place. Saw your windows are wired into the system, too. Smart.”

“Thanks.” Julia stood up and faced him, smiling as she hid the envelope behind her back. If he knew what she’d found, he’d stay. If he stayed, she’d never get any rest. Twenty-four/seven or not, she needed him to go, to let her have some peace for what was left of the night.

“What’s that?” He raised his chin as if he could see right through her midsection to the envelope fluttering in her shaky hand.

“I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“And I’m sure that particular ‘nothing’ has scared you.” He held out his hand, flicked his fingers to encourage her to hand it over. “You’re white as a sheet.”

Or white as an envelope, she thought with a flash of gallows humor. “You want to open it, go ahead.” She held out the envelope but didn’t let go when his fingers closed over it. “It’s addressed to me.” She showed him. “Just my name.”

With a shrug, he tucked his hands into his coat pockets. “Any idea who sent it?”

She clamped her lips shut when her teeth wanted to chatter. “Probably a neighbor.”

“So open it already and find out.”

“Fine.” She slid her thumb under the flap and pulled out the enclosure. The paper shook like an autumn leaf in a gale as she read the short list of names followed by another terse message: “Stay on the case, Julia. Cooperate with me or I’ll drop these bodies on your doorstep.”

Her knees buckled and she pitched forward. Mitch caught her, guiding her to the chair. “Here.” She shoved the horrid note into his chest. “Take it.”

She couldn’t bear to hold it anymore, couldn’t bear the implications. She’d only entertained the thought of taking herself off the case for a few brief seconds this afternoon. Why was he doing this? Threatening her career, ruining her credit and credibility was bad enough. Threatening her best friend, her mother and her brother upped the ante.

“It’s a bluff,” she murmured. It had to be a bluff. “He’s making a point that he knows where I live.” As if she might be too stupid to put that together from the pictures and messages he’d sent her earlier.

A thick fog of dread blurred everything around her. She waited for anger to burn through it, waited in vain as her heart raced and tremors racked her body.

Mitch dropped his coat over her shoulders, gave them a brisk rub. Enveloped in his warmth and the spicy scent of his cologne, it was hard to remember she didn’t like being touched. Hearing him moving through her kitchen, she couldn’t work up the least irritation with him or her paralyzing fear. Where was her fight? Grit and unwavering fortitude had carried her away from home, through college and law school, through pressures far more direct and personal than one bully with a camera and a gift for nasty text messages.

“Drink this,” Mitch said, kneeling in front of her.

She focused on his face, on the compassion in his brown eyes. He wrapped her numb hands around a bottle of water. She managed to raise it to her lips, taking one sip, then another. “Don’t leave,” she said. “Please.”

“Not a chance.”

* * *

Mitch picked up the note and read the brief message, wondering about the significance of each name. He might not have a lot of experience with stalkers, but this note—and her severe reaction to it—meant leaving wasn’t an option, regardless of the assignment.

He’d seen plenty of shock victims through the years. Julia, in her current emotional state, needed rest and assurance more than anything else. Still pale, the water bottle wasn’t shaking quite so much as she burrowed deeper into his coat.

He read the note again. Aubrey Wallace, Karen Neal and Justin Carter. None of the last names matched Julia’s. “How are these people connected to the Falk case?”

“They aren’t.” She pushed her fingers into her hair, closing her eyes as she tipped her face to the ceiling. “He listed my best friend from college, my mom and my brother. In that order.”

No wonder she’d nearly fainted. Mitch gave a low whistle as he tucked the note into his back pocket. He was tempted to drag her into his lap and cuddle her as if she was one of his young nieces fighting off a bad dream. He almost smiled, imagining how poorly that would go over with the prickly attorney. “So the stalker targeted you for personal reasons.” He’d be furious if someone threatened his family to force his cooperation. He didn’t want to contemplate how fast he’d give in to keep them safe.

“No,” she murmured. “No one here knows I have a brother,” she murmured. “Other than my mother and whoever did the required background search before Marburg hired me.”

Her low, flat voice unnerved him. It seemed as if the note had smothered all that pride and fire she’d shown from the moment she’d walked up to his bar. Then her words hit him like a sucker punch. “Pardon me?”

She burrowed into his coat. “Justin is several years older than me. He joined the Marines when I was in high school. We lost touch while I was in college. Mom called me when he overdosed on painkillers. That was my first year of law school.” She rubbed at the frown creasing her forehead. “I did a little digging after that. He’d gone to rehab but didn’t complete the program. Checked himself out early. As far as I know, no one’s heard from him since. He might already be dead.” She leaned forward, her green eyes wild and fierce. “That’s actually good news.”

“It is?” Mitch didn’t believe any threat to family was good news.

“Yes. The creep must be mining old records. He doesn’t realize only Aubrey still matters to me.” Her gaze dropped to her hands. “Well...that makes me sound like a terrible person.”

“Not at all.” He used the tone that calmed down panicked victims during a rescue. People had countless definitions of family, not all of them as strong and unified as his. “You’re not close to your mom?”

“No.”

That one word packed a hefty warning to back off the sore subject. He swallowed his follow-up questions. “Then why were you so upset to read the note?” He could be of more help, be less of an intrusion, if he understood her.

“It’s an invasion.” Her shoulders shifted under his coat. “Bad enough he’s jeopardizing my integrity and twisting up my finances. This? Dredging up old baggage and dumping it here in the place I made for myself?” Her hands fisted on her knees as she emitted an angry growl. “The envelope...he was in my building.”

He seized on that point like a lifeline. “Would you rather stay somewhere else for a while?”

She shook her head and shut her eyes tight for a moment. “I won’t give in that easy.”

“Good.” He admired her courage. “Remember, you’re not alone.”

Her eyes met his again, held. “Okay.” She rubbed her palms briskly over her knees and took a deep breath. “We’ve found a silver lining. I’m home safe and although he got close, the creep isn’t lurking in a closet. What next?”

Good question. He was in over his head here. He fought fires, not stalkers. “We should warn your friend.” That sounded logical. “And your mom.”

Julia’s features smoothed into an unyielding, emotionless mask. “And say what? They don’t live here in Philly.”

“All right.” Mitch flared his hands, unwilling to push her any further tonight. His job was protecting her. Grant could tackle this issue of warning others if necessary. “Why don’t we get some rest and start fresh in the morning.”

She glanced at the small, antique sofa. “You won’t be comfortable there.” Her gaze slid toward the privacy screen hiding her bed.

He wasn’t about to make her sleep on this hard sofa. “Don’t worry about me. If you have an extra blanket and pillow I’ll sleep just fine on the floor.”

The little furrow between her brows as she examined the small apartment was endearing. Or it would be under different circumstances. This wasn’t the right time to be charmed and distracted by the woman he was supposed to be protecting. One of the hardest lessons of firefighting was doing the job without getting emotionally invested in the people saved.

While he denied it every time it came up, no one seemed to believe he’d finally grown past the foolish damsel-in-distress complex he’d had as a kid. Yes, his last girlfriend had used that specific soft spot against him and it had taken him too long to see her true colors. But he’d eventually corrected that mistake. The nature of the job was to race into danger and bring people out alive. Without his innate drive to protect those in need, he wouldn’t be a decent firefighter.

“You’re really staying over.”

He nodded, unable to tell if she was more relieved or frustrated by his protective intrusion. He managed not to remind her she’d asked him to stay only a few minutes ago.

In a flurry of motion, she stood up. Shrugging off his coat, she folded it neatly over the back of the chair. Moving behind the privacy screen that divided the space, he heard her open a closet. A moment later she returned with a pillow in an ivory satin case and the quilt that had been folded neatly on the foot of her bed. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Will do.”

“Are you a morning person?” She crossed her arms as if she was cold again.

“I’m a firefighter. I’ve learned to adapt to the situation and timing, whatever it is.”

Her auburn eyebrows arched, then knit into a hard scowl.

“Is that a problem for you?”

“No.” The scowl remained, the arms tensed more.

“Something’s got your wheels turning.” He tapped his temple.

“How can this work?” She spread her arms wide. “You can see my place is too small for you to move in.”

“We’ll manage.”

She wasn’t satisfied by his vague confidence. “You’re just going to follow me? Everywhere?”

“Sure. Until we identify who’s hassling you. Isn’t that what you asked for?”

Her shoulders sagged. “Yes. No. I’m just...”

“Tired,” he finished for her. “Stressed-out. That’s reasonable, Julia.”

“I don’t like having you here.”

“I understand.” He could sympathize. Independence radiated off her. He didn’t know her well, but it was clear that she was unhappy she’d needed to ask Escape—or anyone—for help.

“This creep might just be a big gasbag trying to embarrass the firm.”

“It’s possible.” Although they both knew that theory didn’t explain the stalker sifting through her past for hot buttons of friends and family. Mitch hoped the situation was resolved quickly just by his presence, but her stalker was pushing awful damn hard and fast.

Mitch would have a tough time forgetting the shock and fear on her face when she’d read the note. The facade of the savvy, polished attorney had dissolved, instantly revealing a frightened woman floundering to make sense of things.

The bastard had put a note in her mailbox. Tomorrow, once Julia was safe at work, Mitch would come back and have a chat with the doorman. A building as posh as this one had to have cameras on every entrance. The residents wouldn’t tolerate anything less.

“I guess I’ll, just, um, head to bed then.” She took a step back.

“Could I take a look at your phone, please? It would help if I could review the interactions you’ve had with him before tomorrow.” If he was lucky, he might even find a clue as to why Grant had assigned him to Julia’s situation.

“Let me know when you’re done. It’s my alarm clock.” She handed him the phone and excused herself. He tuned out the sounds and the resulting speculative images of her preparing for bed. It required more effort than it should have.

He skimmed the text messages first, then the file with Julia’s notes on the encounter, and the pictures and emails that had followed. Despite his limited experience, Mitch recognized this definitely wasn’t a typical stalker.

Maybe Grant thought he was dodging that looming threat against the cop by assigning a suspended firefighter. More likely, it was a combination of convenience and intimidation. Mitch made a habit of using his height effectively in any situation and he’d been standing right there while Grant assessed Julia’s trouble. On top of that, Grant probably sensed Mitch’s restlessness. The man was legendary about reading people.

He glanced back at the closed bathroom door and took advantage of the moment by cruising through Julia’s contact list. Only the best friend’s name turned up. Interesting. She really wasn’t close to her mom, not that he’d doubted her earlier answer.

He heard the bathroom door open and her footsteps approaching. “Are you done yet?”

“Just finished,” he said, closing the open files on her phone. Looking up, his jaw dropped at the sight of her. With her makeup gone and her long, red hair tumbling in loose waves over her shoulders, she managed to transform the bulky sweatshirt and sweatpants into the sexiest of lingerie.

His pulse kicked into overdrive. He wanted to feel that hair in his hands and inhale that soft fragrance that seemed just out of reach. What the hell was wrong with him? She’d kick him out in a hot second if she realized where his thoughts had gone.

He kept his feet rooted in place, holding the phone at arm’s length. “Here you go.”

She didn’t go to bed. She came around to sit in the chair again, inadvertently teasing him with that warm fragrance as she passed by. She tucked her feet up by her hip and studied him. “Did it help? Do you have a plan?”

“A starting point,” he said, resuming his seat on the sofa. The apartment was truly too small. “Once you’re safe at the office, I’ll see what I can dig up. If we’re lucky he’ll show up wearing that orange hat again.”

Her lip curled. “I hope not.”

The admission startled him. “Why?”

“Because if the hat is his habit or signature or whatever, it means I’ve been oblivious to him for days.”

“Stop.” Mitch reached for her and thought better of it. “You can’t do that to yourself.” He waited until she lifted those lovely green eyes to meet his gaze. “It’s a very popular hat around here.”

It took a second, but when she finally laughed her entire body relaxed. And his tensed up as the sound rolled through him. He stretched his arms across the back of the sofa and changed the subject. “What’s with the furniture?” She didn’t strike him as the sort of woman who preferred fragile antiques to modern, sturdy furniture.

“You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that. I just pegged you for something more current.”

Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. “You wouldn’t be wrong. These are my inheritance from my grandmother.” She traced the carved wood accent on the arm of her chair. “The pieces fit the space and saved me money.”

Sensing more to that story, he waited for her to elaborate. She didn’t, leaving him wondering how to politely nudge her out of the way so he could stretch out on the floor.

“You’ll never be comfortable on that.”

“I’ll manage,” he replied.

With a heavy sigh, she pushed to her feet. “Hang on.” Her footsteps were quiet on the hardwood as she padded to a closet and rummaged around. “I’ve got a sleeping bag and mat I use for camping.” She leaned both items against the chair. “There. You’ll be more comfortable and I won’t feel like a total bitch.”

He smiled at her candor. “I never would have known the difference.”

“I would have.” She shrugged. “I set out clean towels and a travel toothbrush for you in the bathroom. Sleep well, Mitch, and thanks for staying.”

“You’re welcome.” The woman was full of surprises behind that thick wall of lawyer, he thought as he unrolled the mat and sleeping bag. It was hard to imagine her roughing it in the woods, but he was grateful.

He studiously kept his gaze averted as he passed her bed on the way to and from the bathroom. When he slid into the sleeping bag, he found himself surrounded by the elusive scent that was uniquely her.

With a sigh, he folded his hands behind his head. The few hours left between now and morning were going to make for one long night.

Chapter 3

By some miracle, Mitch did get some sleep and upon waking, he managed not to interfere with Julia’s morning routine too much. After a quick argument against walking her to work, he drove her over and, when he dropped her off at the curb, he made her promise to stay put in her building until they met for lunch. Not only that, but she’d given him her word she’d forward any communication from the stalker. After last night’s emotional roller coaster, he believed she’d cooperate. In the short term, anyway.

Leaving her office, he drove to the west side of town and the house he shared with his oldest brother, Stephen. Braced for an interrogation, Mitch was relieved to find the place empty. He really wanted to avoid a discussion about where he’d spent the night and why. After a fast shower, he pulled on dark jeans, a T-shirt and a blue button-down. His typical off-day wardrobe of concert shirts was fine for the garage but wouldn’t translate well if he needed to blend in at her office. With that in mind, he packed a bag for a few days and grabbed his laptop. On his way out, he left a note to head off any unnecessary and uncomfortable questions from his family.

The extended Galway family could turn the big city into a small town whenever they got the urge. He’d been fending off concerned texts and calls from his parents and siblings since his suspension, as if they were afraid he’d go stir-crazy if he couldn’t fight fires. They weren’t exactly wrong—he missed the sense of purpose at the firehouse—but at just shy of thirty, he’d grown out of his youthful restlessness.

His irritation eased as he thought of Julia’s brother. He’d rather be surrounded by too much caring than none at all. He couldn’t imagine any of his siblings or cousins going missing for years. It just wouldn’t be tolerated.

With his gear in the trunk, he drove back to Julia’s building for a chat with her doorman before he reported in to Grant. The results after an hour of conversation were disturbing. Whoever had slipped that note into Julia’s mailbox had hidden their tracks well. Either the stalker lived in her building or he’d convinced someone in her building to drop the note in her mailbox. Worse, the security video didn’t show anyone other than the mailman near Julia’s box yesterday.

Frustrated, Mitch made notes and sent them on to Grant. The technical expertise involved to erase or alter surveillance was beyond him. Julia would expect better results than Mitch’s fumbling attempts to track down the man who matched her description of an average man wearing a popular hat.

Since he had her spare key, he took his belongings upstairs to her apartment and stowed his bag out of sight behind the privacy screen. Setting up his laptop at her table, again he reviewed the file she’d created, searching for a lead among the pictures and messages the stalker had sent. Not one similar angle, not even in the park. It was as if the creep had tagged along through her daily routine, completely invisible. He read and reread the line that Julia’s assignment to the Falk case wasn’t yet public knowledge.

Mitch got up to pace, but her apartment wasn’t big enough to make it worthwhile. He made a cup of coffee and drank it down as he studied the one picture she’d captured yesterday. It wasn’t any more enlightening today than it had been last night.

Every time he looked through the information, he came up with more questions than potential answers. Who was close enough to Julia and the car-theft ring? Searching for those connections meant digging into her life, which he suspected would go over like a lead balloon if he did that without her. There had to be something he could do.

He sent her a text message to check in and got an immediate positive reply, which eased the tension building in his neck and shoulders. With two hours until her lunch break, Mitch headed out for a walk. Her stalker knew the area and Mitch needed to get equally familiar with her typical routes and favorite places in the neighborhood. He needed to mitigate the stalker’s advantage. Mentally he crossed his fingers her stalker would be bold enough to wear the same orange hockey team cap today.

He left her building and walked the route she took every day to her office, passing her gym and her bank. With the pictures on his phone, he took in the various sight lines and angles. Where had the bastard been hiding?

By the time he’d walked the circumference of the park where she normally ate lunch, he realized just how easy it would be to target her or anyone else. The foot traffic and tourists that made her feel safe gave her stalker similar cover.

Taking a seat on a bench where he guessed the stalker had been watching for her, he used his phone to poke into the key players and time line on Marburg’s current big-ticket case. At first glance, it seemed obvious the stalker was all about the case, with his demands for names and cooperation. But what if Julia was the real goal? Maybe the creep had a fixation with sexy female defense attorneys on high-profile cases.

Mitch wasn’t a cop, but he felt the theory deserved an examination. As he put the text messages and pictures up against the case time line and growing pile of dead witnesses against the perps at the center of the criminal activity, he wound up agreeing with Grant and Julia.

Her stalker was dialed in to the legal issues, determined to have an inside informant on the Falk case. Why?

The criminals organizing the car-theft ring had plagued the city for nearly three years. More than stealing prime cars, it was generally believed that newer recruits committed robberies, arson, battery and even murder against competitors or hapless citizens to move up the ranks.

Only the recent bust at the docks three months ago had restored a measure of peace. The cops had wrangled a number of wannabes and hit the jackpot when they caught a man they were sure was one of the masterminds of the system.

Naturally, Mitch was more familiar with the suspected arsons linked to the operation. They’d been nasty and, in addition to a terrible fatality, at least two fires had been used to divert emergency resources from a bigger crime discovered later. He reviewed pictures of those scenes on news websites, searching for anyone who could be a match to the guy she had spotted yesterday, but there was no distinguishing feature to make a legitimate connection.

Marburg, with all their clout, must have been on retainer, considering how quickly they negotiated the deal for Falk to await trial in a safe house rather than a jail cell. As grumpy as the Philadelphia PD had been about relinquishing jurisdiction, Mitch thought it was a good thing the FBI was in charge of keeping Falk alive to testify against his partners.

How had the stalker learned Julia had been added to the case before it hit public record? It couldn’t have been a lucky guess. As she’d said, Marburg was full of eager associates eligible for the choice opportunity extended to Julia. Was her office really as safe as she thought? Could the stalker have an informant inside the firm who hadn’t gotten on the case as expected?

Mitch pushed to his feet and started up the block, doing his best to walk when everything inside him wanted to run. He had to get to her. Right now. Pulling out his phone, he sent her another text as he rounded the corner. She’d appreciate the fair warning.

When she entered the lobby, those high heels snapping against the marble with every stride, he gave himself a moment to soak up the gorgeous view before she got close enough to be offended. Her suit jacket was gone, and the sleek short-sleeved dress skimmed over her curves. Chin up, she projected an unshakable confidence as she advanced. Knowing what she’d endured in the past twenty-four hours, he was more impressed with her than ever.

Her closed expression, those auburn eyebrows raised in an arrogant arch, didn’t give off the appreciation he was expecting. “This is a surprise,” she said.

Her voice, pleasant enough, contrasted with the chilly reception in her green gaze. “A nice one, I hope,” he replied, listing only his first initial and last name in the register. “Can you get away for a quick lunch?”

The older man at the desk waggled bushy white eyebrows at Julia. “How about an introduction, young lady?”

“Of course,” she said. Her mouth lifted into a patently false smile. “Arthur, this is Mitch. He’s a—” she paused as Arthur’s eyebrows bobbed up and down again “—potential client.”

“Nice to meet you.” Arthur stuck out his hand and Mitch gave it a firm shake. “You couldn’t ask for a better attorney to have on your side. You two stay out of trouble.”

Too late for that, Mitch thought. “Yes, sir.”

“Come on up,” Julia urged him, backing toward the elevators. “I’ll give you a tour before we go.”

“Great. Thanks.” Still concerned about her safety here, he needed to learn the building layout and the places she frequented. The building wasn’t as stuffy as expected, thanks to the soaring three-story galleries above. They passed a coffee stand, what appeared to be a cafeteria in one corner, and two smaller business offices.

When they were alone in the elevator, heading up to her floor, she turned to him, her face pale. “Is he here? You said you wouldn’t come inside unless—”

“Oh. No.” Crap. Afraid of letting her down, he’d allowed his nerves to get the better of him. “That’s not it. I’m sorry.” He took her hands and gave them a squeeze, just as the doors parted on her floor. No chance the receptionist missed it. Her eyes were dancing with curiosity on the other side of the glass doors as they approached.

“I’m heading to lunch, Bethany,” Julia said, breezing by the reception desk, with a tip of her head in his direction. “Potential client.”

“I’ll make a note,” the receptionist replied.

“You lie as easy as breathing,” Mitch murmured, impressed.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she replied, an edge to her voice. She unlocked the bin over her desk and pulled out her purse. “Let’s go.” She led him down the stairs and out a side door, apparently determined to avoid any further introductions or encounters.

He took her hand in his the moment they reached the street.

She looked down, trying to tug it free. “What are you doing?”

“Playing my part.” He gave her an encouraging smile.

“Boyfriend?” Her green eyes turned sharp. “This wasn’t our agreement.” She stopped talking as they waited at the corner for the crossing signal. “I just introduced you as a client.”

When they were moving again, she launched into all the reasons his showing up made things worse. He followed most of the lingo she tossed out in place of any solid reasons against his approach.

When they turned the corner, he raised their joined hands to his lips for a quick kiss. “Relax, Julia. It’s temporary.” They strolled on toward her favorite lunch spot and he led her to the line for a food truck. “I won’t be around long enough for the partners to bark at you about having a social life.”

His promise didn’t seem to ease any of the tension simmering in her body, but she stopped fighting against their joined hands. He studied her as the line advanced. “I came to the office for two reasons.”

“Yes?”

He started with the easier reason. “I’d like to look a little deeper into your background. I didn’t want to start without your permission.”

She leaned back, peering up at him with laser-focused intensity. “My background is irrelevant. This is connected to work.”

So much for easy. “Hardly irrelevant. What sounds good to you?” he asked, his attention on the menu.

She made her selection and he placed the order when it was their turn, handing over cash before she could pull her wallet out of her purse.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Picking up lunch? Your accounts are still frozen, right?”

She gave him a brusque nod. “I’ll pay you back as soon as this is sorted out.”

“You’re welcome,” he teased.

Her eyes went wide as they stepped aside to wait for the food. “This isn’t a game. And thank you.” She smoothed a hand over her hair. She’d gathered all that gorgeous hair up in a glossy clip, exposing the long column of her neck, but the breeze was teasing a few strands free. “Why are you really here?”

“I’m creating a buffer for you,” he replied, sticking closer than a polite client would. He hovered enough to give the impression he was enamored with the new woman in his life, while trying not to irritate her with too much physical contact. He wondered if she held everyone at arm’s length or just him. His money was on everyone.

“Oh.” Her lips made a perfect, rosy circle. “The camera at my building. Did you see who left me that note?”

He wished he could give her a better answer. “No,” he admitted, regretting it as the little surge of hope drained from her face. Worse, she started scanning the people milling about the park. “Searching for a certain orange cap?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No. I’m not useless to you. I know you wanted a different answer, but we’ll get there.” That brought the full force of her attention back to him. He liked it a little too much. “Your doorman and I didn’t make much progress on that front yet,” he emphasized. “But I spent the rest of the morning reviewing Falk’s arrest and events leading to it. Which is why I surprised you at the office. Again, I apologize.”

She waved it off. “I’m over it. Do you have a lead?”

His explanation was delayed by the food pickup and their brief search for a spot to eat. He could tell she felt exposed, but he figured his presence as an unexpected boyfriend would be enough to have her stalker reassessing the situation if he was out there watching.

When they were settled on a bench under a tree, he waited until she’d eaten some of her sandwich before he began. “Falk’s gang or followers or whatever you’d call them are suspected of a few arsons around the city in recent years.”

She nodded, her gaze sweeping across the people moving around them.

“None of those left enough evidence to prosecute a particular individual.”

“Which is related to my stalker how?”

“I’m a curious guy,” he replied. “After the momentary dead end in the mail room, I went looking for a better lead.” He decided not to mention his trek home for his clothes and his computer.

She blotted the sauce from her lips with a napkin, bringing his attention to her very kissable mouth. “Start making the connections. Please.”

Stay on point. It was his turn to scan the park. He didn’t spot anyone with an orange cap, but he felt as if they were being watched. A small measure of paranoia was to be expected, he supposed. “People take pictures at fires. Arson investigators gather them up when they can, hoping to find the firebug. That was my approach, comparing the media shots of fires suspected of being connected to Falk’s organization with the picture you caught yesterday, but it didn’t pan out.”

“I know it’s a lousy picture.” She shifted on the bench, crossed her ankles and tugged the rising hem of her skirt over her knees. “None of this explains why you barged into the office.”

Her unrelenting green gaze made him sympathize with any witness or client who landed on her bad side. She must be hell in a courtroom. Mitch swallowed, bracing for the worst. “Who did you share the news with when you were added to the case?”

She froze, her sandwich halfway to her mouth. Slowly she lowered the food to her lap and pulled the wrapper around what was left. “N-no one.”

“Come on, being assigned to the Falk case is a big deal. Your mom?”

Her teeth sank into that rosy lower lip for a split second. “No. We’re not close.”

“What about your friend Aubrey?”

She shook her head. “It’s not the kind of thing you share,” she said.

That startled him. Clearly he didn’t understand lawyers at all. She’d said it was a career-making assignment—wouldn’t she celebrate it? “Why not? Some confidentiality thing?”

“Sometimes,” she allowed. “In this situation, I was thrilled, but it’s a very public case and most people don’t want to see Falk get acquitted. Plenty of my peers in the office would rather take my place than pat me on the back.”

“Okay.” He obviously didn’t know how to think like a defense attorney. “Does it bug you that your stalker knew you had the assignment even though it’s not public knowledge?”

“Of course.”

“Me too. I think it’s an important clue.”

“You think the stalker works at Marburg?” She pressed her fingers to her lips. “Am I safe at the office?” she asked behind her hand.

Hearing her voice, thin and frightened, pissed him off and his self-control started to unravel. When he found her stalker, he’d wring the bastard’s neck. His free hand flexed and fisted. Bullying a woman was a coward’s game. Mitch put his arm around her shoulder, wishing he could make this go away with a snap of his fingers. “That very concern is what had me barging in and scaring you. Let’s do hourly check-in texts. I want you to let me know the minute anything makes you nervous.”

“All right. Though now I’ll probably be jumping at every shadow.”

“No problem since I’ll be close by. My earlier overreaction aside, I think you are safe there,” he said. Unwrapping the cookie that came with his meal, he offered half to her. “None of the pictures were from inside. I think if he had that card to play, he would have done it.”

“That’s something, I guess.”

“Eat up and I’ll walk you back.”

He downed his half of the cookie while she nibbled around the edges, watching people go by. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head. “Do you think your stalker holds the kind of clout to pull strings and get you specifically assigned to the case?” He felt terrible that the question made her tremble just as she’d started to relax.

“Choosing me makes no sense.” She jerked back, putting a little more distance between them. “Anyone with real clout would ask for someone more important or more informed. All I know about Falk came from media reports and the case files I’ve been allowed to see.”

“Anything sensitive?”

She glared at him, refusing to answer. “Why would anyone believe I’d cave to this kind of intimidation?”

He preferred the defiance in her eyes. “Every contact so far implies the stalker intends to use you as an inside source.”

“Yeah, I got that loud and clear.” She pursed her lips. “We both know I can’t do what he wants. What happens then?”

“We’ll burn that bridge if we get there.” Somehow he’d make sure the stalker didn’t push things that far. “You won’t have to face that dilemma.”

“Hmm. Your confidence is impressive, Mr. Galway.”

He shot her a grin. “Hopefully it’s contagious, too, Miss Cooper. Take all you want.”

She smiled, genuinely amused despite the lingering worry shadowing her green eyes. “Thanks.”

As they walked back, she slid her hand into his. That expression of budding trust slipped over him, made him feel ten feet tall and invincible. This wasn’t the first time he’d made a promise with no foolproof plan for how to back it up.

He wouldn’t let this be the first time he let someone down.

* * *

With his hockey team ball cap turned backward today, Leo Falk watched Miss Cooper exit the Marburg offices with a man he didn’t recognize. They looked cozy heading down the same route she’d used on every clear day for her lunch break. In another deviation from her regimented schedule, today they stopped at a food truck. Watching the new guy pay the bill, he gave her credit for finding someone to ease the bite of the cash flow crisis he’d created.

He’d followed her for two weeks straight before deciding the young associate could expedite his plans and assist in his brother’s acquittal. She’d proved to be more work than play, keeping her nose to the grindstone at Marburg except for short jaunts to the park for lunch and three visits each week to her health club. She lived alone, didn’t have regular contact with family by mail, phone or email, and, until now, her social life had been limited to only two obvious friends, both from the law office.

He’d assumed the trek to the nightclub last night had been an effort to blow off steam after he’d seized control of her finances and convinced her to cooperate. The idea that his careful investigation of her life had missed a detail as big as a boyfriend troubled him. He preferred to view this as some demonstration of her resourcefulness.

How unfortunate for her if this new man turned out to be someone significant, someone she cared for. He’d chosen Julia because her loner tendencies and lack of a support network worked to his advantage. His plans to help his brother beat the multitude of criminal charges could work regardless, but her isolation had been a distinct benefit to their unified cause.

Now, when he was ready to advance, he had to pause and reassess the angles and potential pitfalls of his plan.

He used his phone to snap a few pictures of them in the park before moving along to find a better vantage point for their return to Marburg. When they walked into his view, he used his camera and telephoto lens to get better close-ups for his investigator’s benefit. They needed to know everything about this man as soon as possible.

Who is your new friend, Miss Cooper? Leo’s thumb hovered over the send button for a long moment. Rethinking his approach, he deleted the text.

No sense wasting a move too early in this game. He’d wait until he understood what sort of player she’d added to the board.

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