A terrorized young mother and her secret child return home, where a killer awaits...

She’s alive! Vincente Delaney has finally found his girlfriend, Beth Wade, who disappeared a year and a half ago, alive. But he’s shocked to discover someone with her: their child, a little girl he never knew about! Once upon a time, lone wolf Vincente never expected forever with Beth, but now he must put everything on the line to protect her and their family.

Beth was forced to leave Vincente to protect everything she held dear. But now the threat to her loved ones’ lives has reared its ugly head again. As danger approaches, she and Vincente must delve into her past to cast out the darkness jeopardizing their future.

She hadn’t known that Lia had already been growing inside her, hadn’t noticed the changes in her body.

Her whole focus had been on the nagging worry at the back of her mind. The worry that had ratcheted up to a whole new level a month later with the arrival of the letter and the first photograph. By the time the next one turned up in her mailbox a week before she left Stillwater, she had been half-crazy with worry. Any physical symptoms her body had been displaying had come second to the turmoil of her emotions.

Vincente frowned. Clearly, he wasn’t buying that explanation. Beth didn’t blame him. She wouldn’t herself if she was the one listening to it. A lot on my mind. It was a classic fobbing-off phrase. His lips parted in preparation to ask more just as a cry from the baby monitor, for the second time that day, provided an interruption.

This cry was different. This wasn’t one of Lia’s usual noises. It was a high-pitched scream that brought Beth straight to her feet and had her running for the door. At the same time, out in the yard, Melon went into a frenzy of barking.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Picking up on her panic, Vincente was right behind her as she dashed up the stairs.

“Someone is in Lia’s room.”

* * *

Sons of Stillwater: Danger lurks in a small Wyoming town

* * *

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

Dear Reader,

Thank you for journeying back to Stillwater with me!

Secret Baby, Second Chance is the third book in the Sons of Stillwater miniseries, and it tells the story of Vincente Delaney.

The only unpredictable thing Vincente’s rancher father did was fall in love with beautiful Italian socialite Giovanna Alberti. When the marriage ended, his mother left for Italy and a series of new marriages. Vincente was left feeling out of place in Stillwater...and within his own family.

The only person with whom he ever felt truly comfortable was Beth Wade. Vincente and Beth had a unique, passionate relationship. Then, one night, she disappeared...

This story goes deeper than the mystery of why Beth went on the run and what happened ten years ago during an ill-fated expedition to the Devil’s Peak.

When Vincente catches up with Beth, everything has changed. The passion is still there, but the danger they are in, together with their new responsibilities, mean they have to face a different kind of future.

I loved writing the story of how Vincente falls in love twice over. He almost lost Beth and he has to deal with that, but he is also instantly enchanted by his daughter. He never thought he would be a father, but this little person captures his heart.

I’d love to find out what you think of Vincente and Beth’s story. You can contact me on my website (janegodmanauthor.com), Twitter (@janegodman) and Facebook (Jane Godman Author).

Happy reading,

Jane

SECRET BABY, SECOND CHANCE

Jane Godman

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JANE GODMAN writes in a variety of romance genres, including paranormal, gothic and romantic suspense. Jane lives in England and loves to travel to European cities that are steeped in history and romance—Venice, Dubrovnik and Vienna are among her favorites. Jane is married to a lovely man and is mom to two grown-up children.

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedicatin

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

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

“We’ve found Beth Wade.”

Vincente Delaney had been waiting to hear those words for the last twelve months. Waiting and dreading. Now they had finally been spoken, it was as if his mind wasn’t sure how to process them and his emotions didn’t know how to react. He’d imagined that, as soon as he was told, he would be torn apart by anger and pain. Instead, all he felt was a curious detachment, as though he was viewing the scene as an outsider.

“Why wasn’t her body with those of the other women Grant Becker murdered?”

He was pleased to find his voice sounded normal. That he could ask the question without crumbling. He supposed it was because there had been plenty of time to prepare for this moment. Twelve months ago, the police had told him that Beth fitted the profile of those killed by the murderer known as the Red Rose Killer and she was likely to have been one of his victims. Ever since then, this situation had been at the back of his mind. He hadn’t thought about it every minute of every day. Not quite that often.

Of course, it had been made worse because the man responsible for the deaths of all those women had been someone Vincente had known most of his life. Grant Becker had been his brother Cameron’s best friend. Vincente and Grant had gone hunting and drinking together. To learn that Grant, the sheriff of West County, was not only a serial killer, but that he could have been responsible for killing Beth... Vincente shook his head. He still struggled to come to grips with the reality of what had happened in his hometown. Grant was dead now, but the legacy of his crimes had rocked the city of Stillwater, Wyoming, to its core.

“Oh, dear Lord, Vincente. I’m so sorry. That came out all wrong.” Laurie, Cameron’s wife, was a detective in the Stillwater police. She moved swiftly across the room to place her hand on his arm. “Beth isn’t dead. What I came here to tell you was that we’ve finally found out where she’s been living since she left Stillwater.”

The emotion did kick in then, so hard and fast he felt light-headed with it. Relief hit him first. She’s not dead! The long, anguished months of picturing her murder, of wondering if there was anything he could have done to save her, of thinking about all the might-have-beens... And all that time Beth had been alive.

“Where is she?” His initial relief was followed by something colder and harder. Beth was alive. Questions began to form. Dozens of them. Why had she left? And why so suddenly? What was her life like now? Was she single? Married? In a relationship? Why did those things matter? She had walked out on him without an explanation. If not in the middle of the night, near enough. It wasn’t the action of someone who wanted to be with him. Nevertheless, she owed him some explanations.

Laurie shook her head regretfully. “I can’t tell you that. If someone disappears the way Beth did, they do it for a reason. They don’t do it because they want to be found. We have to respect her privacy.” She gathered up her jacket and keys. “I wanted to come and tell you as soon as I found out because I knew what it would mean to you to know that she’s alive. I’ll be going to see her to question her about the Grant Becker case in the next few days. I’ll let you know how she is, but that’s all I can do.”

Vincente didn’t reply. Instead, he watched Laurie go, his body tense and his emotions raging. Beth didn’t want to be found. He’d got that message loud and clear sixteen months ago when he tried searching for her. At that time, it looked like Beth had walked out of Stillwater without a backward glance. The clients in the legal practice where she worked as a lawyer had been less than happy at her departure. Her boss didn’t have a clue where she’d gone. The landlord of the neat little house she’d rented out on the lake road had been bemused. She’d left most of her belongings and had paid her rent for the next quarter. When Vincente spoke to her friends they appeared genuinely bewildered...either that, or they were putting on a good performance for his benefit.

Then, four months after he had last seen her, the devastating news had emerged that Beth could have been one of Grant Becker’s victims. She had the same physical characteristics as the other women Grant had murdered. Beth had dark, wavy hair, blue eyes and the sort of smile that could knock a man sideways. Her looks made her the ideal candidate to attract attention from Grant, to get his token gift of red roses...and then be brutally murdered by him.

Vincente thought back to the last time he had seen her, seeking new clues to her disappearance in light of Laurie’s visit today. Beth had turned up at his apartment after more or less ignoring him for a month. The silent treatment had followed one of their fiery clashes. Theirs had always been a stormy relationship, filled with wild fights, frequent breakups and passionate makeups. Even though sex with Beth had always been explosive, that night had been one to remember. She had barely crossed the doorstep before they were tearing off each other’s clothing, dropping T-shirts and jeans on the floor and kicking off boots as they kissed their way to the bedroom.

As he’d tugged her underwear down, his hands had lifted her and her knees gripped his hips. “Why are you here, Beth?” He had managed to gasp the words out as he walked her backward to the bed.

“Because I can’t stay away.” Her voice had been anguished as she pulled his head down to meet her lips. “No matter how hard I try. That’s where the danger lies.”

Those strange words were the last thing he remembered her saying to him. They had fallen asleep in each other’s arms and when Vincente woke, Beth was gone. Although he had searched for her, it was only when he thought she had been killed that he realized how much the loss of her had torn him apart.

The police investigation had been one of the largest West County had ever seen. The search for women, including Beth, who had gone missing within the timeframe of the murders was wide-ranging and ongoing, but Vincente hadn’t been able to leave it at that.

Guilt gnawed at him over those missing four months before the police had begun their inquiries. Sure, he had tried to discover where Beth was before Laurie had told him she could be one of Grant’s victims, but had he done enough? If he hadn’t simply assumed she’d walked out on him, could he have saved her?

Twelve months ago, as Stillwater was being rocked by the news that one of its sons was a serial killer, Vincente had been trying all over again to discover Beth’s whereabouts. He had gone over every conversation, every confidence, every contact they’d ever had, searching for a clue. He’d even driven around the highways of West County late at night, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

Even though his head had told him repeatedly to prepare for the worst, his heart had insisted on keeping a tiny flare of hope alight.

Now he knew she was alive and he was supposed to leave it at that? His lips tightened and his jaw clenched.

I don’t think so.

* * *

Beth Wade stared at the stack of papers in front of her with a mingled feeling of tiredness and despair. The deadline to have this paperwork completed was looming, but she’d hardly slept and her brain was refusing to cooperate. She thought briefly of her old job at E. Powell Law in Stillwater. Back then she’d have flown through a routine task like this...

Those days were gone. This was Casper, not Stillwater. She was no longer a rising star in a prestigious law firm, dealing with clients and grappling with difficult cases. She worked from home for an hourly rate and, if she didn’t get started, she wouldn’t get paid.

The knock on the door shook her out of her weariness. Twisting her hands together in her lap, she turned her head toward the sound. No one ever knocked on her door...

Cautiously, she rose from the kitchen table and walked silently down the hall. Maybe she could ignore it? Whoever it was would assume she was out and go away.

“Ms. Wade? My name is Laurie Delaney.” The voice was pleasant and confident and... Delaney? “I’m an officer with the Stillwater Police.”

With her mind spinning, Beth opened the door.

Her visitor smiled. “I’m also Vincente Delaney’s sister-in-law.” She said it as if it wasn’t an earth-shattering statement. As if, even though Vincente was always at the back of Beth’s mind, hearing his name spoken out loud wouldn’t make her go weak at the knees.

Beth waved aside the badge Detective Laurie Delaney held out. “I’m not questioning that you are who you say you are. I’m just...”

“Bemused?” Laurie supplied helpfully.

Bemused was an understatement. Stunned would be a more accurate summary of how Beth was feeling. The woman standing on her doorstep was a police officer, and she was Vincente’s sister-in-law. That was a hell of a chunk of information to assimilate on any day. Midmorning on a Monday, after a sleepless night? It was taking a while to process the information. Realizing they were still standing by the open door, she gestured for Laurie to come into the house.

She had known when she left Stillwater that she would miss Vincente, but she had never anticipated the depth of her longing for him. The feeling of loss was like a shard of glass lodged permanently in her heart. Even so, she couldn’t succumb to her desire to ask Laurie questions about him. Just hearing his name had intensified her craving for him, ratcheting the ever-present pain up to a level where it was almost unbearable.

Beth hadn’t left Stillwater to get away from Vincente. She had left because her life was in danger, and, if she’d stayed, she’d risk exposing him to the same harm. The anonymous person who was threatening her had made that clear.

No police. Whoever had sent the photographs and newspaper reports had included that chilling warning in the accompanying letter. But Laurie wasn’t here because Beth had contacted her. And no matter how scared she might be of that letter writer, Beth could hardly slam the door in a police officer’s face.

Once they were inside the narrow hall, a furry black-and-white shape trundled up to them, almost knocking Laurie off her feet. Beth hauled the wriggling, tail-wagging figure away from her visitor. “Sorry. He still hasn’t got the message that he’s meant to be a guard dog.”

Laurie, who was clearly used to dogs, squatted and clicked her fingers. “He’s beautiful. What’s his name?”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Melon. He’s a border collie. His previous owner named him. He thought it was funny.”

“Sorry. I don’t get it.” Laurie looked confused.

“Melon-collie. Melancholy. They sound alike. It’s meant to be a joke.” Beth rolled her eyes. “I always have to explain it.”

Laurie laughed. “I get it now. Melancholy? He doesn’t suit his name.”

Since Melon was lying on his back, with his tongue lolling as he waved his paws in the air, he seemed to be doing all he could to prove her statement correct.

“Despite appearances, he actually has a very good sense of who he should let into the house and who he should be wary of. He was trained as a search and rescue dog, but he injured his paw and needed some time out of action. When he was well again, his owner had a new K-9 partner. Luckily, it was around the time I was looking for a guard dog,” Beth said. “I decided I needed one, since I’m living on my own with—” she bit her lip, annoyed at the near slipup “—no one else around.”

“You can never be too careful,” Laurie agreed.

Leading Laurie through to the kitchen at the rear of the house, Beth let Melon out into the yard before holding up the coffeepot. “I was just about to take a break from work.”

It wasn’t true, of course. Although the kitchen table was littered with papers and her laptop was still open, to say that she had been working would be stretching a point. She had been trying to get her brain in gear before she began to review the client evidence she had been sent.

If she was honest, she might have also been indulging in her regular pastime of daydreaming about Vincente. About what life might have been like if only she hadn’t had to leave. About how she was ever going to get rid of the gnawing, yearning ache that came with the knowledge that she would never see or hear from him again.

Laurie didn’t need to know the details of her daily struggle. And caffeine might be what Beth needed to help wake her sluggish brain cells.

“Coffee would be good.” Laurie took a seat at the table.

“Did Vincente send you?” Even as she asked the question, Beth realized how foolish it was. If Vincente knew where she was, he would never send someone else in his place. He would be here himself, filling this room with his presence. With his dangerous masculinity. The thought sent a thrill of remembered longing down her spine.

“Vincente has no idea I’m here. And I won’t tell him where you live.” Laurie’s tone was reassuring, the words confirming what Beth had just been thinking. “This is actually an official visit, but it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

Beth carried the coffee over to the table and took a seat opposite Laurie. “Now I’m intrigued.”

“It’s an intriguing story, and not a pleasant one. You may have heard about it if you’ve been following the news from Stillwater. Have you heard of the Red Rose Killer?”

“Goodness, yes.” Beth had hardly been able to believe what she had been hearing when she had visited the grocery store and overheard a conversation about what had been happening in her hometown. Although Stillwater was a three-hour drive from Casper, the story of the murders had been gruesome and newsworthy. “I don’t know all the details, but I knew Grant Becker. Was it true? I couldn’t believe it when I heard someone saying he was responsible for killing all those women.”

Laurie’s expression was grave as she nodded. “I was a newcomer in Stillwater at the time, but I know how it rocked the whole community. I was working undercover on another job when I found out that Carla Bryan, who everyone thought had died in an accident, had actually been murdered. Carla was my cousin. Once I started investigating, it turned out that Grant had killed at least six other women who had the same physical characteristics as Carla. We’re saying at least six because the investigation is still ongoing.” She took a sip of her coffee. “It’s the reason I’m here.”

Startled, Beth raised her brows. “It is?”

“You left Stillwater very abruptly, and you have the same physical features as the women Grant Becker killed,” Laurie said. “Dark hair, blue eyes, clear skin, slim figure, nice smile.” She ticked the characteristics off on her fingers. “This was a huge investigation involving the FBI and the Stillwater Police Department. We couldn’t rule out the possibility that you might have been one of Grant Becker’s victims.”

Beth took a moment to let that information sink in. “So you’ve been looking for me all this time?”

Laurie nodded. “Almost twelve months. When we didn’t find your body with the others, we put out an alert asking you to come forward.”

“I didn’t see anything.” Beth bit her lip. “I don’t have much time for TV or newspapers.” In a way, it was better that she hadn’t known the police were looking for her. Knowing would have been a dilemma of epic proportions. How could she have ignored that? Yet, at the same time, how could she have responded to it? “How did you find me?”

“Even though you’ve been using an alias, your boss saw your picture in our newspaper advertisement and phoned in.”

And there you have it. It was that easy. If the police could find her that way, anyone else could. Vincente could. Worst of all, he could find her. She always thought of the person who sent the letter and photographs as a “he”, but it could just as easily be a woman.

Her thoughts must have shown on her face because she became aware of Laurie watching her with concern. Leaning across the table, the other woman clasped Beth’s hand. “This is really not a big deal. Now that we know you are alive, I can cross you off our list of possible victims. I just came out here today to ask you a few questions. I hope that’s okay. I certainly didn’t want to worry you.”

Beth forced her features into a smile. It would be very easy to confide in this woman. To go upstairs and get that envelope, lay everything on the table and tell her the whole story. That way she could hand over her cares to someone else. But she didn’t have that luxury.

It’s not just my own safety that’s at stake here.

“Ask away.”

The searching look in Laurie’s eyes was still there as she flipped open her notepad. “I need to know whether you left Stillwater to get away from Grant Becker.”

Beth shook her head. “Apart from the fact that Grant was friends with Vincente, he and I barely knew each other.”

“So why did you leave Stillwater so suddenly?” Laurie asked.

At that moment—and with monumentally bad timing—a soft, demanding cry crackled over the baby monitor.

* * *

Vincente parked his car in a side street at right angles to the little house. From this vantage point, he could watch the front door without being too obvious.

Following Laurie around for the last three days had not been easy. Pursuing a seasoned detective in the small town where everyone knew them both? He had set himself an almost impossible task. But Laurie had said she would be questioning Beth about the Grant Becker case in the next few days. She had specifically said she would be “going to see” Beth. Vincente figured that, sooner or later, Laurie would lead him to Beth.

He decided the only way to check on his sister-in-law’s whereabouts was to make it look like, by some fluke, they kept bumping into each other. At the end of the second day, Laurie was joking that she’d seen more of her brother-in-law lately than she had of her husband.

Chasing around town, getting in Laurie’s way had played hell with Vincente’s work schedule. His younger brother, Bryce, who ran Delaney Transportation with him, had sent him an increasingly frantic series of messages demanding to know why he had abandoned his office. Unable to explain that he was stalking Laurie, Vincente had feigned illness.

“You’re never ill.” Bryce managed to make the statement sound like an accusation.

“First time for everything.” Vincente had done his best to sound feeble.

“Steffi was hoping you’d come over for dinner tonight. Cameron and Laurie will be there.” Knowing how much Vincente enjoyed evenings spent around the table in his brother’s rambling, comfortable home, Bryce had clearly decided to try another approach. Since his recent and blissfully happy marriage, Bryce enjoyed gathering the family together while his wife, Steffi, regaled them with stories of the animal sanctuary she was establishing. They had come a long way from the days when Bryce had been the local stud, and Steffi was a famous Hollywood actress.

“Maybe next week when I’ve shaken off this flu.” Vincente had turned down the invitation with real regret.

His stalking tactics had proved frustratingly unsuccessful. Until today. Today, his patience, or thinly disguised impatience, had finally paid off. Laurie had left home at her usual time this morning, but instead of going into town and making her way to the police headquarters, she had headed south.

After an hour of following her at a discreet distance, Vincente had gained an inkling about her destination. Beth’s parents were dead, and she’d lost touch with most family members over the years. But he remembered that she spoke about friends of her parents who lived nearby in Casper whom she had visited now and then as a child. Although they weren’t relatives, she had called them her aunt and uncle and always regretted losing touch with them. Vincente had forgotten all about them back when he had been searching for her, but he supposed it was possible that, when she left Stillwater, she’d gone to a town she knew. He became increasingly convinced he was right. The police wouldn’t have known about the connection because the people he was thinking of weren’t Beth’s family.

Knowing Laurie would recognize his car, Vincente had rented a nondescript black sedan. Subterfuge really wasn’t his style, but he was determined to find Beth and ask her the questions that refused to go away. Even in his rental car, he had stayed well behind Laurie. He had a healthy respect for his sister-in-law’s powers of observation. The woman who had tracked down the Red Rose Killer was more than capable of recognizing that she was being followed.

Once he was convinced he knew where she was going, Vincente had overtaken her on the freeway. Pulling in at a gas station on the outskirts of Casper, he had waited, hoping his hunch was correct. When Laurie’s car came into view, he had released a long sigh of relief. If he’d been wrong, he wasn’t sure what his next move would have been. All he knew for sure was that giving up wasn’t an option.

Keeping his distance once more, he had followed Laurie to this quiet neighborhood in Casper. She had pulled up outside a house that was set back slightly from the street. Although he hadn’t been able to see too much, he had watched as the door was opened and Laurie went inside. That had been almost an hour ago, and he was going half-crazy with tension, waiting for the opportunity to do something. He had been told more than once, by both of his brothers, that patience was not his best quality.

Finally, he saw a movement over at the house. Tilting the old cowboy hat he’d worn as an additional disguise low over his brow, but peering out from under the brim, he slunk down in his seat. Laurie came out of the house alone. No one accompanied her to the door. There could be any number of reasons why the occupant of the house had chosen not to escort her out. From Vincente’s point of view, it was frustrating. Once again, he was denied the opportunity to get a glimpse of who lived there.

As Laurie made her way to her car, Vincente considered his options. Follow her back to Stillwater? Or stay here and find out if this really was Beth’s hiding place? He almost laughed aloud that he was even asking himself the question.

Once Laurie had driven away, he waited a few minutes to be sure she really had gone before leaving his car and going across to the house she had left. As he approached, he sized up the building. Nothing about it made him think of Beth. It had a slightly neglected air, as if the owner didn’t have the time, energy or money to spend on it. He contrasted that with the Stillwater house she had lived in. That had been as neat as wax. Being organized seemed to come effortlessly to Beth, spilling over into how she dressed, her surroundings and how she dealt with other people. Vincente wondered, not for the first time, if the reason she had struggled with their relationship was because she couldn’t neatly package up her feelings for him. When they were together there was no controlling what they felt. It had always been raw, primal...and incredible.

The thought spurred his feet up the front step. His heart was pounding so loud it almost drowned out the sound of his knock on the door. Prepared for disappointment, his nerves—already under intense pressure—were ratcheted up to crisis level when he heard a voice calling out.

“Did you forget something, Detective?” It wasn’t just any voice. It was Beth’s voice.

He wondered how she would react if she checked who it was through the peephole in the door. Her words indicated she thought Laurie had come back again, and he heard a key turn in the lock immediately after she spoke.

The door swung open and the smile on her lips faded. As she gazed at him in shock, Vincente took a moment to drink in her appearance. Her hair was shorter, just reaching her shoulders now instead of the waist-length mass in which he had loved to bury his hands. It was scraped back into an unflattering ponytail. She looked thinner. And tired, definitely tired. Almost to the point of exhaustion. But maybe the reason for that was sitting on her hip.

The baby wore pink sweatpants and a T-shirt with butterflies embroidered all over. Not quite a toddler, she was a perfect little girl. Her black hair clustered in a halo of curls around her head and she studied Vincente with eyes that were huge, dark and framed by thick, spiky lashes. The hint of olive to her skin and the full ruby lips were additional confirmation of his first suspicion. It was like looking in a mirror.

Vincente almost took a step back in shock as he gazed at his daughter.

Chapter 2

The shock of seeing Vincente on her doorstep robbed Beth of the power to do anything. Thought, speech, movement—those basic functions deserted her just when she needed them most. The only thing she seemed capable of doing with any degree of competence was stare at him. Just stare...and maybe, deep down inside, feel the old longing to throw herself into his arms. But those days were gone. She wasn’t that person anymore. She didn’t have the luxury of acting on impulse where he was concerned. Where anything was concerned.

“What’s her name?” Vincente threw her off balance with the question. Like I was well-balanced before he asked.

“Lia.” It was surreal. She had pictured seeing him again so many times, but it had never been like this. She had imagined she would be cool and collected. Not that he would take away the ability to think of anything except how wonderful it was to see him again.

“You gave our daughter an Italian name?”

“No, my mother’s name was Amelia.” Even as she said the words, Beth realized her mistake. Vincente had said “our daughter,” and she hadn’t denied it. She lifted an impatient shoulder at the thought. Why would she deny it? Lia was his daughter. He only had to look at her to know that.

“Can I hold her?” Beth was amazed at the humble note in Vincente’s voice. It was something she had never heard before, had never imagined he was capable of.

“She’s not great with strangers.” She issued the warning just as Lia decided to take matters into her own hands.

Holding her plump little arms up to Vincente, she wriggled her body away from her mother and toward him. Beth was so surprised at this phenomenon that she could only stare in astonishment as she handed Lia over. Vincente gazed into his daughter’s big brown eyes with an expression of wonderment. In that instant, something inside Beth’s chest lurched.

“Woof,” Lia commented solemnly.

“It’s her only real word,” Beth explained. “She copies the dog.”

“Is that good or bad?” Vincente couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away from Lia’s face. “I don’t know anything about these things.”

“Well, she’s only eleven months, so she makes lots of sounds, but actual words aren’t really her thing.” For the second time that morning, she became conscious that she was keeping a visitor standing on the doorstep. But this wasn’t just any visitor. It was Vincente. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Fire blazed in the dark depths of his eyes. She could see him fighting to keep his anger under control for Lia’s sake. When he spoke, his jaw muscles were rigid. “I agree. Finding out I have an eleven-month-old daughter that you didn’t have the decency to tell me about is the worst idea I’ve ever heard of.”

Vincente’s moods had no gray areas, only extremes, but his anger had never scared Beth. Now, it terrified her. Not because she feared he would hurt her. This was Vincente. She knew he was incapable of doing her any physical harm. It wasn’t fear of him that had made her flee Stillwater. But his gaze was a knife in her ribs, digging deeper with each passing second. Where once there had been warmth, there was now only contempt.

A fierce longing to tell him the truth swept over her, and she thrust it aside. Annoyance bubbled up in its place, and she hugged that emotion to her. It was typical of Vincente to do it this way. To confront her, invade her space, then become judge and jury and deliver his verdict all within the space of a few minutes.

“I’ve moved on with my life.” She tried for a hard tone as she delivered the words. It wasn’t true, but she needed to convince Vincente it was.

“Fine.” The disdain left his eyes as they moved from Beth’s face to Lia’s. “Maybe we could continue this inside, since I’m not walking away now I know I have a daughter?”

Inviting him in would make a huge statement. But what would she gain by keeping him standing here? She knew Vincente’s stubbornness only too well. When he said he wasn’t going anywhere, he meant it. The thunderstorm was coming. Where it took place was irrelevant. She led Vincente into the family room, and he sat on one of the sofas. Lia commenced an exploration of his face, pulling at his neatly trimmed beard and trying to poke him in the eye. Her delighted squeals broke the ice, and Beth found herself smiling at Vincente’s efforts to hold on to the squirming little bundle. Conscious of the untidy room, her shirt with its missing button and the stain on the front where Lia had spilled milk that morning at breakfast, Beth made a hurried movement to pick up some of the abandoned toys that littered the floor.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Even though it was the obvious question, it stopped her in her tracks. Since she had no idea where to begin with an answer, the series of increasingly anguished howls that rent the air provided a welcome reprieve.

“What the hell is that?” Vincente looked horrified.

“It’s my dog, Melon. He wants to come in.” Beth went through to the back of the house and opened the door.

When Melon reached the door of the family room, he paused, his ears flattening and his tail drooping. Beth could almost read the dog’s mind. Visitors were a rarity, but Melon was a sociable creature, and, on the whole, he liked them. This one, however, had the audacity to place his hands on Melon’s beloved baby. That couldn’t be tolerated.

Crouching low, Melon bared his teeth and growled at Vincente. Since aggression toward humans wasn’t in his nature, he mitigated the threat by wagging his tail.

“Sit!” Vincente’s voice was stern. Beth recalled that he always did have a way with animals.

Melon, clearly realizing the error of his ways, dashed over to him, and attempted to lick his hand. “I said ‘sit.’”

To Beth’s amazement, Melon sat.

“He doesn’t do that for me.” She couldn’t keep the aggrieved note out of her voice.

“You have to show him who’s boss.” Vincente snapped his fingers. Melon sidled forward, resting his head on Vincente’s knee and gazing up at him with adoring eyes.

Beth took a deep breath. “Look, I’m not trying to avoid this conversation, but I have a huge amount of work to do and the deadline is tomorrow. And I need to get Lia’s lunch ready...”

“You look tired.” Vincente’s eyes probed her face. Although it felt strange to have him here, a comment such as that was oddly comforting. It reminded her how well he knew her. He was the only person who really did. “More than tired. You look done in, Beth.”

“You have no idea.” She gave a shaky laugh. “Lia is teething, so she’s not sleeping too well right now. I’m trying to fit work around her schedule, but since she doesn’t really have a schedule—”

“Why don’t you get some rest while I look after her?” The blunt words cut across her floundering and the hard look in his eyes had softened slightly, but the tension level between them remained high.

This was classic Vincente. Like a seasoned boxer, he knew how to cause a distraction before delivering the knockout blow. “I thought you wanted to talk?”

There was a razor edge to his smile. “Okay. Go. Tell me why I wasn’t even worth a call or a message.”

Beth wanted to go to him. To take his face in her hands and tell him how much he meant to her, how much their time together had meant. But although he looked like Vincente, he was a stranger. A hard, cold man who had put up a barrier between them. And she knew that, no matter what she said, it would only push him further behind that barricade.

“There is nothing I can say to make this right.”

Even behind the anger, she could see Vincente’s pain. In the past, she’d have known how to take the hurt away. This time, she was the cause. The knowledge caused tiny shards of ice to pierce her heart.

“You don’t get off that lightly, Beth.” She could see his muscles bunched tight beneath his T-shirt as he held his fists clenched. “This isn’t like that time you drove my car into the wall and forgot to tell me. Or when I smashed that old china cat.”

That was it. Vincente had always known how to get to her. Despite her determination to stay calm, Beth felt anger crashing through her. How dare he bring up past hurts at a time like this?

“You mean the antique figurine my grandmother left me? The one you broke and didn’t tell me? The one I found in pieces in the trash?”

“Exactly.” There was triumph in his eyes. “This isn’t anything so trivial. This is about how we made another person and you didn’t even bother to call me.”

To her horror, Beth felt tears burn the back of her eyelids. When she tried to speak again, her lips trembled and her voice refused to work. Vincente started to speak again, but she held up a hand.

“No more.” The word was little more than a croak and she struggled to get her voice back under control. Pointing to Lia, she shook her head. “Not in front of her.” She took a deep breath. “And you’re right. I’m tired.”

His expression was grim, but she saw a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. “So do what I suggested. Get some rest.” The inflexible note was still there. “Because we are having this conversation, Beth. Whether you want it or not.”

Flustered, she tried to hit on a reason to refuse that didn’t involve going straight to ordering him out of her house. “She doesn’t settle easily with people she doesn’t know.” Since Lia was curled comfortably into the crook of his arm, that excuse wasn’t going to work. “You’re not used to children.”

“No, I’m not, but you’ll only be upstairs. You’re dead on your feet, Beth. I’m worried about you.” In place of the continuing tempest, the unexpectedly gentle note in his voice shook her equilibrium even further.

She remembered that knack he had of catching her off guard. He was right. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept for more than an hour or two at a stretch. If she didn’t get some rest soon, she would fall down. And what use would she be if she was exhausted? If she didn’t meet tomorrow’s deadline, she would lose her job. She was already behind with the rent...

The situation was ridiculous. How many times had she pictured meeting Vincente again? Not once had the imaginary conversations she had conducted in her head included him offering to babysit. And behind the concern, she knew—because who knew him better than she did?—that his anger that was still waiting to be unleashed.

“Let me do this, Beth.” A persuasive note in his voice, the one she hated because he used it to get her to do just about anything he wanted, made an appearance. “For old times’ sake.”

“I can’t believe you just said that.” She rolled her eyes.

He laughed. “Nor can I. The shock must have gone to my head.”

“Okay.” She had never thought of Vincente Delaney as an angel in disguise—the thought caused her to smile inwardly, since she had occasionally thought of him as a devil in disguise—but there had to be a first time for everything.

“All Lia’s toys are in the box over there. There is pasta in the fridge for her lunch and she likes banana after it. She’ll drink plain water from her own special cup. Oh, and her diapers and wipes are in this bag.”

Vincente’s calm deserted him slightly at those words. “I can come and get you if we have a diaper situation, right? That’s something I’m going to need to do under supervision the first time.” First time? The words had a confidence about them that unsettled her.

“Wake me if there’s a problem.”

She went to the door, turning back to look at him as he bent to talk to Lia. Although seeing Vincente here had tilted her world off course, the effect he was exerting over her pulse was not entirely due to the shock. He always did have the power to knock her sideways with his presence. Even though she had spent a lot of time over the last sixteen months dwelling on her memories of him, she had underestimated his magnetism.

What was she thinking? Every rational thought screamed at her to get him out of here. She had broken all her ties with Stillwater for a reason. A dangerous, life-threatening reason. Leaving had hurt more than she’d believed possible. Leaving Vincente? That had been its own kind of hell. She’d never known if they’d last forever. The longest they’d ever managed was a few months. Not because they didn’t care. We cared too much. That had always been their problem. Everything between them was too much. Too passionate. Too intense. Too raw. Too hungry. It was like they burned each other up whenever they were together. But Beth had never imagined being with anyone else. Had never imagined her life without Vincente in it, even if it was only in their own, unique, on-off, tempestuous way. Until the letter and the photographs. They had changed everything.

“Get some sleep, Beth.” Vincente’s dark eyes seemed to read her thoughts. “Then we’ll talk some more.”

Just this one time, she told herself sternly, and only because I’m so tired. Then we’ll talk some more.

Those words had an ominous ring to them.

* * *

Vincente’s mind wanted to dwell on the shock to his system. He was struggling to know what to feel, although anger was making a strong case for being his most powerful emotion. How could Beth keep something like this from him? If Lia was eleven months old, that meant Beth had to have been four months pregnant when she left Stillwater. Vincente thought back to the roller-coaster ride that was their relationship. Yes, four months before Beth left, they’d been right in the middle of one of the most intense “on” times of their on-off periods. Soon after, they’d split up following a fight over something or other. He couldn’t recall the reason, but he did remember Beth calling him arrogant and conceited before she slammed out the door.

Anger continued to bubble deep inside him, as hot and destructive as lava. It churned and boiled, desperate for release, and he knew there was a real danger of becoming too much for him to handle. He wanted to find a release. Slam his hand down on a table, kick a door, shout at the person responsible...

Four months and she didn’t tell me? She came to my apartment the night she left Stillwater and she didn’t mention that she was carrying my child? She left me sleeping and walked out of my life, prepared for me to never know about this person who shares my DNA?

He couldn’t reconcile those thoughts with the Beth he knew. They’d always been honest with each other. From the moment they got together that first time they’d known what they had was different. Unique. Mind-blowing. But Beth had always known the truth about Vincente. He couldn’t commit to a normal relationship. Hearts, flowers and promises of forever weren’t for him. It didn’t take much soul-searching to find the reasons why.

Even within his own family, Vincente had always felt like an outsider. The only unpredictable thing his rancher father ever did was fall in love with a beautiful Italian socialite. When Kane Delaney brought Giovanna Alberti home to Stillwater, she had batted her long eyelashes at him and declared that Wyoming was too boring to be her home. By the time Vincente was born, the marriage was in its death throes.

Even their son’s name had been a cause for disagreement. Giovanna had wanted a full-on Italian name, while Kane had held out for something more American. In the end, they had compromised. Instead of the Italian “Vicente” or the American “Vincent,” they had named him “Vincente.” It was a metaphor for his life. With a foot in each world, he belonged in neither.

The ink was barely dry on the divorce papers before Vincente’s mother had reverted to her maiden name and returned to Florence. Although he saw her occasionally, her aristocratic world might as well have been a million miles away from his Stillwater home.

Vincente knew Beth wasn’t like his mother. He wasn’t naive enough to believe that she would walk out on him and break his heart the way Giovanna had done to Kane. No, he was more afraid that he would be the one to hurt her. All he knew for sure was, however much he wanted Beth—and Vincente had never wanted anything in his life as much as he’d wanted Beth—there was something missing in his psyche. Call it the Alberti gene. We don’t do long-term. His mother was on her fifth marriage. He was not going to put Beth through the same sort of torture.

And Beth had understood. She had always accepted him for what he was. Their relationship hadn’t been one-sided. It hadn’t been about her trying to get a ring on her finger and him resisting. It had always just been them. Doing it their own way.

Of course, a baby would have changed things. How? He couldn’t answer that because the knowledge that Lia even existed had only just hit him. Had Beth run out on him because she thought he wouldn’t be able to cope with the commitment? A wave of shame washed over him at the thought. She must have known him better than that. Surely, she must. If she thought he would leave her to cope with their child on her own, then she hadn’t known him at all.

That brought another emotion to sit alongside the anger. As he looked down at Lia’s perfect features, he felt an overwhelming sadness.

He hadn’t wanted a child. If anyone had asked him why, he’d have said he’d be the world’s worst dad. He was selfish, impatient, untidy, and he didn’t like responsibility. Also, no sleep, no free time, no social life? No, thank you.

Now, he was in shock as his feelings on the subject had sharply reversed. Because how could he not want this beautiful little being? And how much of her life had he already missed? He hadn’t been there when she was born. Hadn’t heard that first cry or seen her first smile. She was crawling, pulling herself upright and making noises. Some of them almost sounded like words. She had a personality all her own...quite a strong one from what he’d seen so far. She looks like me. This little person has been growing up without me. The mingled feelings of joy and loss tugged at something deep within him.

Other than telling her Giovanna had left when he was a baby, he’d never talked to Beth about his mother, but she must have known there was a twisted branch in the Delaney family tree. It didn’t take much imagination to work out that Giovanna’s abandonment was at the root of Vincente’s issues. The loss of a parent had impacted his whole life. Yet Beth had repeated the pattern with Lia?

He wanted to storm and rage at Beth for what she’d done, but he also needed to find out why she’d done it. This was Beth. Beth, to whom he had been closer than any other person in his whole life. There had to be a reason why she had deprived him of almost a year of his daughter’s life. He had to get this right, for all they’d once been to each other, but also for the innocent child who was caught up in the middle of this.

The innocent child who was sliding from his knee with a purposeful glint in her eye. Vincente had never realized it was possible to move so fast at a crawl. Before he knew it, she had reached a vase of flowers and toppled it onto the floor. As he stooped to pick them up, she launched herself at the dog, grabbing him by the tail. Melon let out a yowl and ran for the door. That was the moment when Vincente decided it was probably a good idea to postpone the soul-searching and concentrate on the babysitting.

As he watched Lia and tried to keep up with her, some of the negative emotion coursing through him melted away. It was replaced by a new warmth as he felt an immediate connection to his daughter.

She was his. As well as the physical similarities, he could see other traits they had in common. When he tried to take something from her, a militant light entered her eye and she thrust out her chin, mirroring his own stubbornness. As he sat with her and tried to help her stack her blocks, she brushed his hand away, determined to try it for herself.

Although he’d been consumed by rage and shock as he’d crossed the threshold of this house, he’d resolved to do his duty. He had a child and he would take care of her. What he hadn’t expected was this rush of pure joy he felt every time he looked at her.

Lia might look like him, but her smile was all Beth...or the Beth he’d once known.

He hadn’t been exaggerating when he told Beth he was worried about her. Physically, she had barely changed, but there were other differences that became more apparent the longer he was with her. She was wound as tight as a coiled spring, tension apparent in every part of her slender body. The way she held herself taut as though poised for flight, the tilt of her head as if she was listening for a subtle sound and the way those glorious denim-blue eyes refused to settle on one thing. He had thought at first it was because she was unable to make eye contact with him. Gradually, he realized her gaze was constantly moving, checking her territory, seeking reassurance that everything was normal.

She was exhausted. That had been apparent the moment he set eyes on her. And he had used it to his advantage. By offering to look after Lia while she got some rest, he supposed he had been manipulative, but wasn’t he entitled to be devious in the circumstances? He had just come face-to-face with the daughter he didn’t know he had. And he hadn’t been entirely underhanded. Although, after the initial shock had worn off, his first emotion had been simmering rage, he could sense Beth’s turmoil. Offering to look after Lia while she got some rest served a number of purposes. He got the chance to spend precious time with his daughter—a tiny fraction of the eleven months I’ve lost—Beth could recoup some of her strength for what promised to be the ordeal of the conversation they needed to have and Vincente could catch his breath.

He suspected he and Laurie were the only visitors this house had seen in a long time. Lia was immaculately dressed, but, like Beth herself, the house was clean without being exactly cared for. It was far from being a hovel, but her nervousness, together with the way she fussed around, picking up toys and plucking at the stain on her shirt, drew his attention to the details. She was clearly focused on appearances and finding them lacking. What had happened to the happy, sociable woman he’d known in Stillwater? Yes, Beth had a baby now, but would that turn her into a recluse? He didn’t know enough about these things. Maybe it would.

But what worried him more than anything was the feeling he got that all this was about more than being protective of her child. No, it wasn’t a feeling. He knew her too well. It was a certainty. Beth was scared. More than scared. She was terrified.

* * *

Beth woke abruptly with a rising sense of panic. She was fully dressed, lying on top of the bedclothes. How could she be asleep during the day? What about Lia? Gradually, the events of the morning came back to her and she heaved a sigh of relief. The sensation of contentment soon dissipated when she realized what she had done. I left Lia with Vincente. Today might be the day I actually took leave of my senses. She sat up abruptly. After sixteen months in hiding, she had not only opened her door to the man she had decided never to see again, she had blithely handed her daughter over to him.

Our daughter, she reminded herself. Lia would be safe with Vincente; there was no question about that. The problem was, now Vincente knew he had a daughter, there could be no going back. He would want to be involved in her life. That was a conversation that was going to take every ounce of Beth’s considerably depleted energy.

Pausing only to run a brush through her hair, drag it back into its ponytail and slip her ballet flats back on, she made her way back down the stairs. When she reached the family room, a scene of total devastation greeted her. Vincente was seated on the floor, half reclining against the sofa. His shirt was pulled out of his jeans and his hair and beard were smeared with something that looked suspiciously like dried banana. Lia was asleep with her head on his shoulder.

“She trashed the place,” he whispered. His expression was stunned. “As soon as you left the room, she just went for it.”

Every toy Lia owned was scattered across the floor. The wildflowers Beth had picked the day before were shredded into tiny pieces. The vase they had been in lay on its side and water formed a pool on the carpet around it. Cushions and throws had been dragged from the sofas and piled in a heap on the floor. It looked like a whirlwind had been through the room. And it had. Beth knew what Whirlwind Lia at full force could do. Vincente would not have stood a chance.

“I think she wore herself out.” Vincente smiled ruefully as he indicated the sleeping figure in his arms.

Although she had only just woken up, Beth felt weariness crowding in on her once more. Stooping, she lifted her slumbering daughter into her arms. “I’ll take her upstairs.”

As she carried Lia from the room, she was aware of Vincente watching her intently. Once upstairs, she settled the warm, sleeping bundle into her crib, pulling a blanket over her. There was a draft coming through the open window, which she closed before returning to the crib. Bending to kiss Lia’s soft cheek, she studied her face for a moment or two. Sleeping or waking, she could watch her forever. Right now, she supposed she should go and get the less attractive task of talking to Vincente over with.

When she reached the den, Vincente had picked up the throws and cushions and placed them back on the sofas. He paused in the act of placing Lia’s toys back in their box. “No wonder you look tired.”

“Laurie said she wouldn’t tell you where I lived.”

“She didn’t.” His expression was half wary, half apologetic. “I followed her without her knowledge.” He ran a hand over his face and, feeling the residue of the banana, grimaced. “Is there somewhere I can clean up?”

Beth directed him to the bathroom and went into the kitchen to fix coffee, shaking her head at the normality of the situation. This was Vincente. The thought was on a loop inside her head. They didn’t do polite conversation. They’d never needed words. The last time she’d seen him, she had kicked his apartment door shut and torn his shirt off. They hadn’t exchanged more than a few sentences that night. It had almost killed her to sneak out of his apartment without saying goodbye. She had left his apartment, gotten into the car that was already loaded with her luggage and driven out of Stillwater for good. The ultimate irony had come two weeks later, when she realized that the recurring stomach bug that had been bothering her was actually a four-month pregnancy.

Vincente reappeared with his shirt tucked in and the banana removed. As Beth poured the coffee, she was conscious of those melting dark eyes watching her face. “When were you planning on eating lunch?”

“Don’t do this, Vincente.” She handed him his coffee and took her own to the table, grimacing as she viewed the paperwork that she still hadn’t touched. If she pulled another all-nighter, she might just meet the deadline.

“Do what?” He came to sit opposite her.

“I know these tactics. This is where you soften me up before you go for the kill.” She took a deep breath. “I know how angry you are. Just say what you have to say.”

He didn’t speak for a moment or two and she took in the tight set of his jaw, the glitter in the dark depths of his eyes and the way his clenched fist rested on his muscled thigh. “You think angry comes close to describing what I’m feeling right now? I’m so far beyond that it’s not true. But I want to understand why you cheated me out of almost a year of Lia’s life. I’m trying to contain my feelings so we can have some sort of rational dialogue for the sake of that little girl upstairs, and because I’m concerned about you—”

“Oh, no.” Beth sprang to her feet. “I see where this is going. You think you can walk in here and pull a stunt like that?”

“What the hell are you talking about? What stunt?” Vincente looked up at her, his expression bemused.

“Get some rest, Beth. Let me do this for you, Beth. For old times’ sake?” Her voice quivered as she mimicked his concerned tone. “What will you tell the judge when you try to take my daughter away? You turned up here and found I was incapable of looking after her? Depressed? Unstable? An unfit mother?”

Vincente got to his feet, facing her across the width of the table. “Is that what you think?” His voice was harsh. “That I’ve changed so much I would do that to you?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that losing her...it’s my worst nightmare.” He didn’t know—couldn’t know—what she’d been through. The debilitating anxiety and isolation of post-partum depression was something she still found hard to come to terms with, even now she was over the worst of it. At times like this, when she felt under pressure, some of the symptoms resurfaced. She no longer needed medication, but she did occasionally keep in touch with her counselor. Right now, she focused on regulating her breathing. It was one of the techniques she had learned for coping with stress.

“Beth, no matter what I’m feeling, I would never try to take Lia from you.”

Beth knew Vincente well enough to sense when she could trust him. He couldn’t be trusted to turn up on time to a date. She couldn’t trust him to remember birthdays and anniversaries. No matter how many times she told him, trusting him to remember that she hated anchovies on her pizza never worked. But when it came to the big things? She knew he would never lie to her. This was one of those times. There was nothing but truth in those dark eyes.

“I still want an answer to my question. Why did you leave Stillwater without telling me you were pregnant?”

She took her seat again, making an effort to relax the tension in her limbs. Following her lead, Vincente sat down, as well. How could she tell this story without telling him all of it? Vincente wasn’t a fool. He was the smartest person she knew. Not only was he the most quick-witted, well-read, articulate person to have made her acquaintance, but he was also the most perceptive. And where Beth was concerned, he was incredibly intuitive. He had always been able to tell when she was lying.

“It wasn’t like that.” She took a sip of her coffee, buying a little time. “I didn’t know I was expecting a baby when I left Stillwater.”

“Math is my job, Beth. I’ve already done the calculations. Lia is eleven months old. That means you must have been four months pregnant when you ran away—” she nodded in confirmation “—yet you didn’t know?” His voice said it all. She hadn’t been some kid who didn’t know her own body. She had been a twenty-seven-year-old attorney with a promising career.

“I had a lot on my mind.” God, those words sounded so lame. But it was true. The newspaper report had arrived two months before she left Stillwater. She hadn’t known that Lia had already been growing inside her, hadn’t noticed the missed periods and the changes in her body. Her whole focus had been on the nagging worry at the back of her mind. The worry that had ratcheted up to a whole new level a month later with the arrival of the letter and the first photograph. By the time the next one turned up in her mailbox a week before she left Stillwater, she had been half-crazy with worry. Any physical symptoms her body had been displaying had come second to the turmoil of her emotions.

Receiving anonymous threats had been bad enough. When those warnings became directed at anyone close to her, she had panicked. Because there was only one person close to her. Whether he liked it or not, Vincente had been the one who meant the most to her. Even though it had broken her heart to leave, even though missing him had been a constant ache ever since, it had seemed like the only way she could protect him.

Now he was here, and she couldn’t tell him the truth. I’ll come after the ones you love... Even the thought of those words made her shiver.

Vincente frowned. Clearly, he wasn’t buying her explanation. Beth didn’t blame him. She wouldn’t herself if she was the one listening to it. A lot on my mind. It was a classic fobbing-off phrase. His lips parted in preparation to ask more just as a cry from the baby monitor, for the second time that day, provided an interruption.

This cry was different. This wasn’t one of Lia’s usual noises. It was a high-pitched scream that brought Beth straight to her feet and had her running for the door. At the same time, out in the yard, Melon went into a frenzy of barking.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Picking up on her panic, Vincente was right behind her as she dashed up the stairs.

“Someone is in Lia’s room.”

Chapter 3

Vincente got all the confirmation he needed about Beth’s state of mind when she hurtled from the kitchen and charged up the stairs. “Someone is in Lia’s room? What the hell do you mean?” How had she reached that conclusion from the noise she had heard Lia make through the baby monitor?

Beth didn’t answer. He could hear her breath catching in her throat in a series of gasps as she reached the top of the stairs and burst through a door to her left. To Vincente’s relief, Lia was lying on her side in her crib with a pink-and-white blanket pulled up to her chin. Her long lashes shadowed her cheeks and her breathing was rhythmic.

Beth made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a sob. She raised a hand to her lips, but it was shaking so wildly she couldn’t complete the action and she lowered it back to her side. When she turned to look at Vincente, her eyes were urgent and haunted, their blue depths awash with unshed tears.

“Beth—” just what was going on with her? “—she’s fine. No one has been in here.”

The tears spilled over as she blinked, and she brushed them impatiently away with the back of her hand. “She cried out as if someone had touched her.” He could see doubt creeping in now as she turned back to look at Lia. “That’s how she cries when a stranger tries to hold her.”

She shivered slightly as if a chill had caught her unawares. Turning slowly, she looked at the open window. “No. I closed that when I brought her up here. I know I did.”

“Maybe you forgot. It’s easily done.”

The uncertainty and trembling were gone now. Momentarily, he was looking at the old Beth. “I know I closed the window. I felt a draft and I moved across here to close it before I came downstairs.” There was a militant look in her eye. One he remembered well. “I’m not wrong about this, Vincente.”

She moved to the window and leaned out. “Look.” She pointed. “Someone has placed a ladder up against the side of the house, right below this window. That’s how he got in.”

Vincente was still skeptical. “In broad daylight? And why didn’t that mad dog of yours attack whoever it was that was setting a ladder up against the side of the house and climbing in through one of the windows?”

“Because this room is at the side of the house.” Beth was pacing now, wrapping her arms around her waist as though hugging herself. “Melon is in the backyard. He was barking to warn me, but he couldn’t get around to this side.”

“So, this person, whoever it was, climbed in, touched Lia and made her cry, climbed out again and ran off?” Vincente said. “Why? What did he, or she, hope to gain from it?”

“He wanted to frighten me. He said if I told anyone...if I involved the police...” She struggled to regulate her breathing. “Now you and Laurie have been here. This is his way of warning me.”

Vincente was about to pursue the subject further when Lia stirred and rolled onto her back. The action revealed an item that had been hidden under the blanket. Although Vincente could see it was a photograph, he couldn’t make out the detail, and he didn’t get a chance to look too closely. His attention was taken up by the remarkable effect the picture had on Beth.

As soon as she saw the photograph, she gave a little cry and ran from the room. Picking up the picture, Vincente straightened the blanket over Lia before following her. When he found Beth, she was on her knees beside a bed. Presumably this was her own bedroom.

As he watched in surprise, she hauled a suitcase out from under the bed and opened it. Pulling open the closet, she began to throw clothes into the suitcase.

“What are you doing?” Apart from losing your mind?

“Getting out of here.” She brushed past him and, opening a drawer in the dresser, carried an armful of underwear over to the case. “Right now.”

* * *

Beth’s heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst right out of her body. Her chest grew tighter as if her ribs and lungs had expanded beyond their capacity and, with nowhere to go, they were forced to stay inside her. One minute she couldn’t inhale. The next, her breath was coming in great, whooping gasps as though she’d just finished running a marathon.

Then her stomach decided to join the party, giving a huge backflip that sent sick bile rising up into her throat, making her gag. And the whole time her mind was playing one thought on a loop, over and over.

Get out.

She raced wildly around her bedroom, scarcely aware of Vincente until he blocked her way, forcing her to stop what she was doing and look at him.

“You have to tell me what this is about.”

“No.” Don’t tell. That was what the letter had said. I’ll know if you do. “I can’t.”

“Beth.” He caught hold of her hands, and his touch slowed some of the madness in her heart. “I am not letting you leave here like this. You may have run from me once, but it’s not happening again. I will keep following you until you tell me what is scaring the hell out of you.” He lowered his voice, so it became softer and more persuasive. “You have always been able to tell me anything.”

She looked into those midnight eyes. He was right. No matter what crazy point they had been at in their relationship—midfight, making up, wildly in love, just friends—Vincente was the one person to whom she could always take a problem. Even when she was mad at him, she used to go to him for advice. That was before I had a madman on my tail. And now he’s after my daughter.

The thought sent a renewed flare of panic storming through her and she tried to tug her hands away. “I can’t.”

Vincente pointed to the picture he’d placed on the bed. “That was placed in my daughter’s crib. If you won’t tell me what it’s about, do I need to take it to the police?”

Beth felt the color, what little there was left of it, drain from her face. “No. Please don’t.”

“Then talk to me, Beth.” He released one of her hands and picked up the picture. “We can go to Lia’s room, if you feel more comfortable there.”

She nodded. “Give me a minute to get something.”

While Vincente returned to the nursery, Beth withdrew the envelope containing the letter, newspaper report, and the other photographs from the drawer in her bedside table. Was she really going to do this? She had run from Stillwater because of this. She had left her old life behind, partly because she had been in danger, but also because any people to whom she was close had been in danger. And Vincente had been the closest of all. Oh, he didn’t know that. Or maybe he did...but he would never admit it. Vincente didn’t do close. He was great at the physical stuff. But emotionally? No. We never went there. Every time things strayed close to the L word, we’d find ourselves breaking up again.

But this was no longer just about Beth. Someone had been in Lia’s room today, and that someone had already killed two people. Beth was determined to do all she could to protect Lia, but maybe she needed help. And what better person was there to help her than Lia’s father?

Even so, this wasn’t going to be easy. She’d been keeping this secret for two long years and it felt like part of her. Opening up, even to Vincente, was going to be tough, particularly as there were parts of the story that were so hard to tell.

When she reached Lia’s room, she leaned over the crib. The sight of that little figure always restored her equanimity and she smiled as she breathed in that unique Lia-smell. Looking up, she was aware of Vincente’s eyes on her. There was only one chair in the room, and he indicated for Beth to take it while he sat on the floor nearby.

Okay, let’s do this. She sat down, gripping the envelope tightly. “This started way back when I was eighteen. You know what happened the summer before I went away to college, right?”

They had both lived in Stillwater all their lives, but Vincente was five years older than Beth. She was closer in age to his younger brother, Bryce. As a teenager, she had been increasingly aware of the dark, broodingly handsome oldest Delaney brother, but it was only when she came back after college and started working for a law firm in town that the attraction had ignited between them.

“I remember what you told me, and I saw the news reports. I know people in Stillwater still talk about it now and then. But I was in Italy that summer visiting my mother.” His lips twisted into a smile that was both bitter and affectionate. “It was one of her weddings, possibly the fourth. I’ve lost count. I always thought you told me a shortened version of what happened on the mountain because you couldn’t bear to talk about it. Although I know some of the detail, if it’s important to this story, tell me about it again.”

“You’re right. Even though I couldn’t forget it, I tried to avoid discussing it. At that time, I loved rock climbing.” At that time. Those words held a world of memories and meaning. “I belonged to the West County Climbing Club. It was run by a group of experienced climbers, who encouraged those of us who were new to the sport. We traveled all over the state, climbing the Tetons, Ten Sleep and Sinks Canyon. That summer, they organized an expedition to climb the Devil’s Peak, the highest point on the Stillwater Trail.”

“How many of you went on the climb?”

It still didn’t seem real that Vincente was here in Lia’s pink-and-white room. He was seated with his back against the closet—the one on which Beth had carefully stenciled teddies and bunnies—with his knees drawn up and his clasped hands resting loosely between them. He looked so big and masculine. That should be reassuring, right? His presence should make her feel safe and protected. Maybe it would...if it wasn’t for the contents of the envelope she held in her hands.

“There were two instructors and eight junior climbers. Although we were amateurs, the Devil’s Peak is so difficult, we had to have a high level of expertise before we could be included in the team. Although I was only eighteen, and the youngest member of the group, I had been part of the club since I was thirteen. I’d done some tricky climbs and Rick Sterling, the lead instructor, was my mentor. He had partnered me on several tricky climbs and he decided I was qualified enough to join this one.” Beth tried out a smile. “I was so excited when he said I could go along. In hindsight, I wish he’d told me to stay at home.”

“I don’t know much about these things, but I know the Devil’s Peak is a beast of a climb,” Vincente said. “I read an article not so long ago rating it one of the top ten hardest in the country.”

“It’s a killer.” Beth winced as she said the words. “Climbing the Peak was always going to involve an overnight stay. We started out hiking through the alpine meadows at the base, then it became like a rocky moonscape before we had to tackle a vertical notch known as the Keyhole. The drop-offs from there were like nothing I’d ever seen. It was vertigo-inducing. We were about halfway up when, without warning, the weather changed. We were caught in a snowstorm. The wind was lashing around us and more snow was whipping off the surrounding peaks. We were completely exposed. Halfway up a dangerous rock face with nowhere to go.”

“Surely your instructors had checked the weather conditions before you set off?” Vincente asked.

“They had. This was totally unexpected. And it was one of the recommendations that came out of the inquiry that followed. Now, climbers are warned that the weather on the Devil’s Peak can change in minutes and that forecasts are not always accurate. We didn’t have the benefit of that warning.”

“So you had to choose whether to go up or down?”

“We chose to keep going.” There had been no right or wrong choices. The only decision had been to keep moving in one direction or another. Beth recalled the tension as, blinded by the snow in their faces and buffeted by the wind, they had continued with the climb. Rick had reasoned that, once they reached the next plateau, they could set up camp as planned. “Physically, and mentally, it was the most challenging thing I’ve ever done. Clinging on to the rock while the wind tried to drag me off set every muscle screaming in agony. After a few hours, my arms and legs felt like Jell-O. My brain was mush, I can’t remember having a single coherent thought during that time. We were almost at the top when one of the group fell. His name was Cory Taylor and, after the instructors, he was probably the most experienced climber among us. It was at a point when we’d almost reached safety. He should have been okay by then.”

Beth paused, drawing a breath. It had been so long since she’d talked about it. The horrors of that day hadn’t receded in the intervening years, but she’d thought about it less over time. She supposed that was what coming to terms with it meant. It didn’t go away, but she learned to live with it. When the letter arrived, it had brought it all flooding back, of course. In the two years since then, it had resurfaced regularly.

“I know his injuries were bad.” Vincente’s voice was gentle.

“He broke his neck and his back.” She spoke bluntly. There was no other way to tell it. “We were roped together in pairs. When Cory fell, it was only the skill of Rick’s coleader, Tania Blake, that stopped him and his partner plummeting off the rock face and into oblivion.”

She paused, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. Leaning forward, Vincente placed a hand on her knee, and his touch ricocheted through her like a streak of lightning. It was good and bad. Good because it grounded her, reassured her and brought her back to normality. Bad because she felt a resurgence of all the old feelings tingle through her nerve endings...and how wrong was it to feel like that in this situation?

“Between us, we got Cory to the top of the Keyhole. By that time, we were in a full-blown storm. We had no way of getting medical help for Cory. No radio or cell phone signal. Nothing.” Beth covered her face with her hands at the memory. “It was awful. He was in so much pain. I can still hear his screams, still hear him pleading with us to let him die. He kept saying it was what he wanted. It was the most awful sound I’ve ever heard. And we were so helpless. There was nothing we could do. One of the team, Peter Sharp, was a paramedic. He gave Cory painkillers, but they couldn’t even touch the pain he was in. We had pod tents that we were able to get up in spite of the snow, and we took turns to sit with him during the night. I was the one who was with Cory when it happened.”

“When he died?” Vincente asked.

“When he was murdered.”

* * *

Lia woke up right at the point when Vincente was going to suggest Beth needed to take a break anyway. Telling the ten-year-old story was clearly taking its toll on her. Although Vincente had heard a watered-down account from Beth herself several years ago, and had endured the town gossips’ version of events now and then, hearing the details was harrowing. He still wasn’t sure what the “Murder on the Devil’s Peak,” as it had become known in Stillwater folklore, had to do with Beth’s current problems, but he guessed she was leading up to that.

Worry continued to play in a loop as he observed Beth and thought about what she was telling him. Either the incident on the mountainside had some connection to her current state of mind or her problems were out of control. Either way, he was concerned about her.

The story she had told him was worse than he had imagined. He knew she had been on a climb that had ended in danger and the death of one of her companions, but he hadn’t paid attention to the details. That hadn’t been because he was uncaring. It had been because he had believed Beth wanted to put the whole episode behind her. Now he knew she hadn’t done so. He had been shocked by what she’d told him. Beth had lived through a nightmare. Had she ever really recovered from that?

Beth carried Lia down to the kitchen and handed her to Vincente while she fixed her formula. “Although this still feel weird, you have no idea how useful an extra pair of hands is.” After the drama of the last few hours, he was pleased to see her make an attempt at a joke.

“Why didn’t you get yourself a proper guard dog?” he asked as she opened the door and Melon bundled excitedly into the room.

“Melon is a guard dog.” Beth seemed offended on behalf of her pet.

Melon brought Vincente a chewed-up tennis ball and dropped it at his feet in an invitation to a game. When Vincente ignored him, the dog pushed the toy closer with his nose. “I hate to be the one to break this to you, but that is not a guard dog.”

Beth brought the bottle of milk over, and Lia reached out eager hands for it. “She’ll do all the work if you sit down with her,” Beth said.

They moved to sit at the table. “Are you ready to tell me the rest of it?” Vincente asked as Lia leaned contentedly back against his arm, making little gulping noises as she drank the milk.

Her weight on his arm felt right and his heart expanded with the strength of his feelings. He wanted to keep her here in his arms, safe and warm, just like this, forever.

“I don’t know what happened, if that’s what you mean. I was in Cory’s tent with him. The idea was to talk to him, to keep telling him everything was going to be okay. In reality, I’m not sure he even knew there was someone there, let alone that he could understand what we were saying. He was out of his mind with pain. I had my flashlight and my book with me and I was reading to him. Then I felt a blow to my head and I blacked out. Sometime later, the next person came into the tent to sit with Cory. They found I was unconscious with a head wound, and Cory was dead. He had been suffocated. We didn’t know that for sure until the inquest. We thought—hoped, even—that he could have died in his sleep.”

“Did you have any idea who did it?” Vincente asked. Although he was focused on what Beth was saying, part of his mind was on the warm weight of his little girl against his arm. He had started this day not knowing she existed and now having her there felt like the most natural thing in the world. If Beth was right and someone was threatening her, threatening them both...

What he felt for Lia went way beyond the natural protectiveness any normal adult felt toward a child. Within minutes of meeting her, his hard, outer shell had melted, leaving him with a new vulnerability. He had a family to care for now. The thought of anything, or anyone, harming a hair of his daughter’s head had him snarling inside like a tiger. He pressed his cheek against her hair, breathing in the scents of shampoo and baby powder, feeling the hook that connected his heart to hers digging in a little deeper.

He looked up to see Beth watching him. She came within his protective sphere, as well. She always had.

“No. We thought—” she bit her lip as she answered his question “—this sounds awful, but we thought someone had done it as a sort of kindness.”

“A misguided way of ending his misery?” It was a horrible idea, but he understood what she meant.

Beth nodded, tears filling her eyes. “It can’t ever be right to take a life, but anyone who heard his cries couldn’t fail to be moved. The storm was over by then and Rick found a place to get a signal. He called the Stillwater Ranger Service and they sent an emergency team. Once it was known how Cory had died, there was a police investigation, but no one was ever charged with his murder. It got a lot of press attention.”

“Did you bear the brunt of it because you were with him when he died?” Vincente had been out of the country at the time, so he hadn’t seen the news reports.

“Some of it was brutal, suggesting that I knew what happened, that I colluded with the person who killed him, even that I did it. The attention died down eventually.” Beth bit her lip. “But the memories took a lot longer to fade. I couldn’t go rock climbing again after that. I think some of the club members still got together—maybe they do even now—but I couldn’t face seeing any of them. Talking about what happened just seemed all wrong. Anyway, it had started to fade naturally into the background. I still thought about it, but less and less often. Then I got this.”

She reached for the brown envelope that she’d brought downstairs with her. Opening it, she withdrew an old newspaper cutting. It had been written a day or two after Cory’s death. The headline was Climbers’ Death Storm Horror. Whoever had sent it to her had taken a red pen and carefully scratched out the words climber and climbers throughout the text, replacing them instead with the words murderer and murderers.

“When were you sent this?” Lia had drained her bottle and was struggling to be put down. Vincente dredged up a memory of babies and feeding. “Doesn’t she need to be burped or something?”

“No, she’s older now. She’ll be fine.” Lia crawled with surprising agility over to a box of toys. Beth’s eyes followed her and remained on her as Lia settled down to play. “About two years ago.” She returned to his question.

“Why didn’t you tell me at the time?” His earlier anger had given way to a nagging feeling of anxiety. His worries about Beth were growing by the minute, settling in his gut as a physical ache. He had a feeling it wasn’t going to shift any time soon.

She withdrew the other items from the envelope and pushed them toward him. “Because of these. The letter, and the first photograph were sent a month after the newspaper article.”

There were four photographs, all similar to the one that had been left in Lia’s crib, and a short letter. Vincente read the letter first.

Greetings, Murderers,

When you killed Cory Taylor, you took away my life. Now I’ll take yours. One by one. You don’t know who I’ll come for first. You don’t know who’ll be next. Don’t tell. I’ll know if you do, and I’ll come after the ones you love. Enjoy looking over your shoulder. One day, I’ll be there.

“Beth, this is sick, but you can’t let it get to you. You should have gone straight to the police.” Vincente was outraged to think that she’d been living in fear all this time because of this.

He was shaken to the core at what he was seeing and hearing. Beth had run from her life in Stillwater, from him, because of this hateful letter? Part of him wanted to ask why she hadn’t trusted him enough to share what she’d been going through, but the haunted look in her eyes told him all he needed to know. Beth hadn’t been capable of thinking of anything beyond the sheer terror caused by these threats.

Although his initial reaction was to give in to the rage he felt, Vincente knew he had to deal with this differently. Storming out of the house in search of the person who had written those words wasn’t going to help Beth, or protect her and Lia.

Beth was so fragile; any wrong move on his part could tip her over the edge. He had to show her she could trust him. No matter how much he wanted to punch the wall, he had to act with compassion.

“Look at the photographs, Vincente.” Beth lined them up in front of him on the table. “This is a group photograph, taken just before we set off on the climb. We all had a copy of it as a memento of the expedition. This was my copy—” She tapped an unmarked version of the picture with one fingertip before moving along to the next photograph. “And this is the one that was sent to me with that letter. It’s the same photograph, but in this one there is a red X over Cory’s face.”

Vincente could see the pattern that was emerging along the line of photographs. “A month later, I was sent this picture.” Beth pointed to the next photograph. “In this version, there are two red Xs. As well as Cory’s face being crossed out, there is a red X over the face of Andy Smith, one of the other climbers.” She moved on to the next picture. “I got this picture the day before I left Stillwater. Three Xs. This time, the expedition leader, Rick Sterling, has his face crossed out.”

Vincente had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer to his next question. “Did you get in touch with Andy and Rick after you received these pictures?”

She lifted her eyes to his face. “I tried, but they are both dead.”

Vincente took a moment to let that information sink in. “What about the police, or anyone else who was on the climb? Did you try to contact them?”

“You saw what the letter says.” Her face was ashen. “Once I heard Andy and Rick were dead, I knew it wasn’t an idle threat. If I’d tried to speak to anyone, I’d have been putting you in danger. The only thing I could do was leave.”

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