“Addi?”

Addison’s heart twisted. She knew that voice, and only one man had ever called her by that nickname. Drew Bryant, her long-dead fiancé.

She shook her head. Clearly she’d let the stress and worry get to her. Drew wasn’t here, wasn’t even alive.

The screen door hinges squealed and the handle of the main door turned. A dream, she thought, it had to be a dream. As the door eased open, Addison leveled the shotgun at the man casting shadows across the weak moonlight spilling through the door.

“Addi, it’s me, Drew. I’m here to help.”

Addison fired.

The loud report deafened her to the splintering wood as the buckshot pelted the front door. The man rushed forward, taking the gun before she could fire again.

“It’s me,” he said, his voice lost in the ringing in her ears.

The single lightbulb came on and she covered her mouth, barely smothering the scream lodged in her chest. “No. No.” This wasn’t possible.

To Honour and

to Protect

Debra Webb & Regan Black

www.millsandboon.co.uk

DEBRA WEBB, born in Alabama, wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain—and a five-year stint with NASA—that she realized her true calling. Since then the USA TODAY bestselling author has penned more than one hundred novels, including her internationally bestselling Colby Agency series.

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.

For Robert, if you never read past this page, know that you’re my treasure, full of the integrity, insight and kindness that make real-life heroes so special.

Contents

Cover

Excerpt

Title Page

About the Authors

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Interstate 10, West Texas

Thursday, June 19, 3:10 p.m.

Addison Collins checked the fuel gauge, quickly calculating how many more miles she could put between her and the inevitable pursuit before they had to stop. Her brand-new BMW could’ve done that for her, but not this ancient, new-to-her Land Rover. That was what math was for, wasn’t it? This was the perfect example she would keep in the back of her mind for the day her son complained about his math homework.

“Mom, how much longer?”

She recognized that tone. He was about to complain but not about math. Using the rearview mirror, she aimed a confident smile at her son. His bright hair gleamed in the sunlight coming through the window, but the glare on his face bordered on mutinous.

She couldn’t blame him. They’d been on the road for two days straight and had another day left. Possibly more. “About another half hour and we’ll stop again.”

“I have to pee now.”

“You’ll have to hold it for a few minutes.”

“A half hour is thirty minutes. A few is more like three.”

Instead of maternal pride, Addison couldn’t help wondering why she’d ever been inclined to teach him the difference. “And how many threes are in thirty?”

“Ten.” He turned his face to the window. “I still have to pee.”

“All right. I’ll find a place to stop.”

“This car stinks,” he said a minute later.

“The car is clean. It’s just new-car smell.” With a persistent undertone of mildew, but she kept that thought to herself.

“But it’s an old car.”

“True.” Patience will pay off. “The car dealers spray a strong deodorizer to make it feel new.” They had periodically rolled down the windows, but the heavy-duty deodorizer scent lingered, punctuating the mildew rather than overpowering it. This vehicle might be a major step down in value from her BMW, but the dealer in Arizona had been willing to meet her trade and cash terms without any questions, and that had been priceless.

“Why?”

“So they can sell it faster.”

“Will our car stink like this when we go back home?”

“I don’t know.” It was the only safe answer because she hadn’t yet found the courage to tell her son they weren’t going back. She hadn’t lied to him and she wouldn’t start now, but she wasn’t ready to discuss it. The words he needed to hear to understand the gravity of their new situation just weren’t coming to her, and she wasn’t ready to cope with the fallout when he realized he wouldn’t see his friends again.

Her own grief was too fresh, her fear of the unknown too big. When she had a handle on her feelings, she would be better able to help him with his. Coward, an annoying little voice in her head muttered.

“It’s yucky in here,” he said, making a gagging noise. He had a point, though she wasn’t about to admit it. “I feel sick.”

Addison’s patience was fraying, but it wasn’t Andy’s fault they were in this mess. No, this was all her doing. She’d been the one to screw up their picture-perfect life by getting conned by a not-nearly perfect man. He’d looked like Mr. Right, and until a few days ago, she’d been sure he was the right man for both her and Andy. The only silver lining—and she was clinging to it—was that she’d learned the truth before the wedding.

“Roll down the window,” she said. “Some fresh air should help.”

His face brightened momentarily, then clouded over again. “Where’s the button?”

She rolled her eyes. “Use that little handle thingy.”

“Huh?”

She stretched but couldn’t reach it from the driver’s seat. The Land Rover was built so much wider than her sedan, and the only power was under the hood. How ridiculous that an old-school vehicle could stump them both. “The window isn’t electric like you’re used to. Just wind it down, remember?”

She had a few minutes of peace while the manual crank amused her seven-year-old son. In a few months, he’d be eight. Although less than a week ago she’d been kicking around ideas for his birthday party, now all bets were off. She didn’t know where they’d be living by his birthday, only that she intended to be sure they were both alive to celebrate it—even if it was just the two of them.

She immediately pushed that train of thought off the tracks. Right now all Andy needed to know was that they were on a summer adventure. Providing for him, taking care of his education—those questions would be answered later.

“Are we there yet?”

Not even close. “Almost.”

“Mom, I can’t hold it much longer.”

“Hang on.” With her eyes on the road, she caught the squirming in the backseat. “There’s a place at this next exit.”

“How long?”

“Two minutes,” she replied, her voice leaving no room for argument. “You can time me.”

His small, straight nose wrinkled as he fiddled with the big Captain America watch on his wrist. He flipped up the red, white and blue shield cover and busied himself with the stopwatch feature. Her little man had begged for the watch for Christmas and had worn it from the moment he’d ripped open the package. Only his fear of ruining it made him take it off for bath time.

She happily nurtured his love of comic book heroes, and reading through various adventures with him was part of their bedtime routine. Even in the horrible, desperate rush to get away, she’d grabbed his entire collection. More than once she’d wondered if some part of his attraction to comics was genetic. Andy’s father had been a soldier, a good man and a lifelong fan of the Marvel universe. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have him here with her now.

“One minute,” Andy announced.

“My personal town crier,” she mumbled, taking the exit.

“What’s a town crier?”

Nothing wrong with her boy’s hearing. “Lots and lots of years ago, people didn’t have smartphones or clocks or watches, so someone would walk the town streets and call out the time. ‘Three o’clock and all’s well!’ Like that.”

“Huh.”

“We’re here.” She pulled into the parking space closest to the front door of the gas station, knowing that thoughtful “huh” sound meant more questions were dancing at the front of his brain. “You can unbuckle now.”

“You made it with ten seconds to spare.”

“Guess I should’ve been a race car driver.”

“Did town criers drive this old kind of car?” he asked when she came around to open his door.

“No. Town criers were way before cars.”

“Then how did they get around town?”

She held out her hand, her heart giving a happy bump when he placed his in hers without argument. “People walked or used horses and carts.”

“That’s weird. Horses poop a lot.”

She laughed. “Everything has a by-product.” Inside, she glanced around for the restroom sign, leading her son back by way of the motor oil aisle rather than the candy aisle. “I know at school you’ve seen pictures of cities before cars.”

“And the museum field trips.” He shrugged, his gaze roving across the labels at his eye level, his feet slowing as he tried to read the words and logos on each one. Grateful for the distraction, she wasn’t surprised it didn’t last. When she pushed open the ladies’ room door, he stopped short in the narrow hallway.

“I’m a boy,” he whispered as if she might’ve forgotten.

“Road rules, remember? We stick together.”

“Mom.” He scowled at her and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m too old to go in there.”

She bent close to his ear. “I understand. I even almost agree.”

“Almost?” He tilted his head, wary.

She nodded, smothering the smile for the sake of his pride. “But today it’s a safety issue. We stay together.”

“It’s been nothin’ but safety since we left home.”

“I know. And it has to be safety for a little longer.” She silently vowed to make it up to him. Somehow. “Soon you’ll have all kinds of new places and things to discover on our adventure.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

He looked back at her with the big, soft brown eyes that reminded her more and more of his father. His small hand patted her cheek. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll stay with you.”

“Thank you.”

“But I want to make a new deal for when I turn eight.”

“That’s certainly up for discussion.” Right now she had to be sure they lived that long.

With bladders relieved and hands washed thoroughly to the tune of the alphabet song, they cut through the store to get back on the road.

“Can I have a Coke?”

“It’s ‘may I,’” she corrected automatically. “And no. We have water in the car.”

“Can I have a peanut butter cup?”

So much for her efforts to avoid the candy and junk food. “When we stop for dinner tonight, you can have a Coke and a peanut butter cup.”

“Both?” His eyes went wide with hope.

She nodded.

“How long to dinner?”

She laughed and checked her watch. “A few hours.” She wanted more distance between her and the man who had the resources to chase her off the edge of the world. Addison refused to think of him as her fiancé anymore. Although she’d done her best to blur any trail, to escape somewhere he didn’t even know to search, she couldn’t be sure it would work.

The idea of being so completely duped by Craig Everett infuriated her. Worse, her relationship with him was now an embarrassment in both the professional and personal context. When she thought of how much she’d shared with that worthless excuse for a man, she wanted to shoot something. Preferably Craig. They’d shared lovely romantic evenings, family-type outings with Andy and lazy sleep-late weekend mornings. All of it made her feel dirty now.

Assuming she could evade Craig until she got word the authorities had him locked down, assuming she could eventually return to her life in San Francisco, she wasn’t quite sure how she’d find the courage to look her friends or her boss in the eye again.

It was hopeless to think his arrest and illegal dealings wouldn’t make news up and down the West Coast. More likely, it would be national news for a short time. Which meant she and Andy would be dragged into Craig’s horrendous mess by association. Their lives would be picked apart and exposed for everyone in the world to judge. It was possible even her secluded destination in the uncharted depths of a Louisiana swamp wouldn’t be shelter enough.

Because she’d been the idiot who nearly married an American traitor.

She buckled Andy into the booster seat and closed the door, stifling the violent words that wanted to pour out of her whenever she thought about what Craig had done. Telling herself she’d broken up his system and stopped him didn’t help as much as it should. Maybe that would change with time. So many things did.

The facts crawled like a line of ants between her shoulder blades. The sensation grew worse when she considered the likelihood that Craig’s slimy dealings had cost other women—other families—the grief she’d felt when Andy’s father had been killed in action on the other side of the world.

If Drew Bryant, her favorite soldier, were alive he’d...

Biting her lip, she pulled herself together. If Drew were alive, all of this would be irrelevant. Unnecessary. She, Drew and Andy would be a family, settled in some happy suburb or on farmland far from California. A road trip like this really would be a grand summer adventure. Complete with two drivers and possibly a brother or sister in the backseat with Andy. Even when she and Drew were children themselves, they’d dreamed of having a big family.

If Drew were alive, she wouldn’t have been with Craig at all. It would’ve been up to someone else to catch that traitorous, double-talking jerk trading secrets and sensitive military information with who knew how many unsavory people.

If, if, if. Exasperated with herself, Addison slid into the driver’s seat and moved the car to the gas pump. Might as well top it off while she was here. Hopefully it would save her a stop later.

No matter how she coached herself, she wasn’t sure catching Craig qualified as a blessing in disguise, not when she knew it could cost her everything she held dear. But turning over the information she’d found had been automatic, a reflex she couldn’t suppress any more than breathing. No one should profit from the pain and suffering of others.

Craig had made a fortune for himself and others through legal means. Discovering the fortune he’d amassed through illegal negotiations had shocked her. She couldn’t fathom how he’d made that leap into predatory dealings. She’d only scraped the tip of the iceberg, but she knew without any doubt what would happen if Craig or his nasty colleagues caught up with her and Andy before the authorities took action.

She smiled at her son through the window as she pumped gas. Being the whistle-blower was difficult for anyone, but a single mom? Although she couldn’t abide letting Craig go unpunished, she kept wondering if there’d been a better way to take him down. She’d completely altered two lives when she’d sent the files as an anonymous tip to the local FBI office. All she could do now was hide and pray for the best.

A few more miles down the road Andy piped up again. “Are we going to SeaWorld?”

She’d noticed the billboard, too, and the question wasn’t unreasonable, but she found herself wishing for nightfall. “Not this trip, honey.” Thinking of the crowds and security cameras raised goose bumps along her arms. An attraction like that could prove more risk than entertainment.

“Will Craig have part of our summer adventure with us?”

Only in my nightmares, she thought. “Not this trip,” she repeated, glancing at the elaborate engagement ring that remained on her hand. Taking it off would have Andy asking still more questions she wasn’t ready to answer. Once they reached the bayou she’d throw the damn thing to the nearest alligator. Imagining Craig’s outrage over that move made her smile.

The diamond caught the waning sunlight and she wondered—again—which part of Craig’s income had paid for it. Knowing wouldn’t change how she felt about wearing it, but the aching, wounded part of her heart wanted the answer. She shut that down. There was no sense in being sentimental over a man who’d not only played her for a fool, but also traded lives for money with dangerous people. People who’d want to punish her for blowing up their system. People who were probably searching for her right now. Maybe it would be smart to sell the gaudy thing. She could invest the proceeds for Andy’s college fund. That seemed like a fair enough solution.

“I miss him already,” Andy murmured from the backseat.

“I know.” Craig was the closest thing Andy had had to a father figure because his father had died before he was born. It made her cringe now, in light of his treacherous side business, but it would be another point of grief for her son when he learned that relationship was over. Forever.

Of all the challenges ahead of her, she dreaded navigating that particular tightrope. How could she ever adequately explain her choices to a seven-year-old who’d been so eager for a dad? In Andy’s eyes, Craig had reached near-hero status. Now, thanks to her, in Craig’s eyes she and her son were no more than risks to eliminate. That was more truth than Andy needed weighing on his young shoulders.

“Will the whole adventure be in this old car?”

“No.” She’d hesitated to tell him where they were going, fearful that someone would overhear his chatter during a stop. “Do you think you’d like SeaWorld?”

“Yes! They have whales and dolphins and sharks and turtles and you can swim with them.”

“That does sound like fun.”

“Please can we go, Mom?”

“I can’t make promises, but if it’s possible, yes, we’ll go to SeaWorld.” Eventually.

“Cool! Jeff and Caleb will be jealous. We’ll take lots of pictures, right?”

“Of course.” As long as those pictures wouldn’t jeopardize their secrets.

“I want to pet a shark.”

You’ve already been too close, she thought, checking her rearview mirror. We just didn’t see his teeth. Yet.

“We’ll see.”

“That means no.”

“Not in our house,” she said with more bite than she’d intended. “We’ve talked about that. I need to concentrate right now, okay?”

“Okay.”

“We’ll stop for dinner in two hours.” She smiled, determined to regain her composure. “Can you set an alarm, please?”

“Sure!”

“Thank you.” She checked her mirrors and stared at the long ribbon of highway cluttered with traffic. Once she saw Andy was focused on his handheld game, she turned on the radio, hoping to catch some announcement of Craig’s situation. She wouldn’t feel safe until he was in custody, and she wouldn’t come out of hiding until she was sure his connections had been found. But she heard no updates.

Hours later, when Addison and Andy stopped for dinner, she ducked into a post office for one last precaution. An insurance policy of sorts, in case Craig found a loophole. Letting Andy push the buttons on the automated kiosk machine in the lobby, she breathed a little better when he sent the envelope into the chute.

Whatever happened next, now she could be sure someone else knew the truth about Craig and his involvement in her life.

“Are you mad?” Andy asked, taking her hand as they returned to the car.

“Not with you.” She was definitely mad, but more than the anger, she felt a consuming, unfamiliar terror. All her life she’d known what to do and when to do it. There had been nerves and mistakes, sadness and joy along the way, but overall, she’d had a dream, created a plan and worked tirelessly to make it all a reality for her and her son.

“Then who’re you mad at?”

She considered her answer as he boosted himself back up into the car. “Myself,” she replied honestly. “I made a big mistake.”

“Is that why we’re on this summer adventure?”

Occasionally her son was too perceptive for her comfort. “Partly,” she said with a smile. “But summer is the perfect time for a big adventure.”

“We won’t be in the car the whole time, will we?”

“Already asked and answered, young man,” she said with a laugh. “I promise the real adventure will begin soon.” She thought of the frogs and birds, the still, reflective black water and tall cypress trees where they were headed. He would love it all, so different from any camp or field trip he’d experienced. “You’re going to have all kinds of fun.”

“Promise?”

“Have I ever let you down?”

He actually gave it some thought before he replied, “No.”

“Well, I don’t plan to start now.”

His grin, full of eagerness and love, was too reminiscent of his father. It had her heart aching for what might have been as they got back on the road. Since losing Drew before Andy’s birth, she’d made a practice of focusing on the present. Of course she’d told her son bits and pieces about his real dad as he’d been able to understand them, but with no living relatives in the Bryant family, it seemed best for both of them not to dwell on what couldn’t be changed.

Long after the dinner stop, as she crossed the state line into Louisiana, the news hit the radio. Federal authorities had arrested Craig at his posh home in San Francisco. Addison didn’t breathe easy until the reporter finished the explanation with no mention of her name.

Understanding what he’d done, the scope of his crimes and that the FBI probably already knew she’d turned him in, she knew her anonymity wouldn’t last long, but she intended to make the most of her temporary advantage.

Chapter Two

Washington, DC

Wednesday, July 2, 9:15 a.m.

Andrew “Drew” Bryant remained in his seat, his back straight, palms relaxed on his thighs, gaze straight ahead. Maintaining a calm facade in all circumstances had been emphasized during his time with the Special Forces, but he’d mastered the skill as a prisoner of war. He’d memorized and evaluated every detail of his surroundings. The sleek, understated decor of the lobby, the expensive black leather seating and the polished chrome and glass accents might be found in any number of office buildings around the world, but the distinct lack of nameplates and office logos on the doors told him more than anyone behind those doors wanted him to know. At one time in his life he might’ve paced the marble-floored lobby impatiently, but not anymore. These days, he let the world come to him.

He was more than a little relieved the men in dark suits who’d picked him up twelve hours ago hadn’t put a bag over his head. It could still happen, and if it did, it would test his fitful control. He took a deep breath. Calm was key. In every situation. No sense proving the army docs right about his uncertain mental state.

They’d left him alone and unrestrained, but he’d seen the escort lock the elevator. If they wanted him to sit here, here was where he’d sit. He was in a high-rent office building, but the view from the window wasn’t helpful, with no visible skyline beyond tall trees. The artwork on the walls and in the elevator was most likely original. In his assessment, that meant this place didn’t get a lot of foot traffic.

Drew felt his heart rate tick up as another minute passed. He couldn’t help recalling the last time he’d been snatched away from a normal day. Except that day hadn’t been normal at all. It had been his wedding day.

On that occasion he’d been ordered to duty in the middle of the night and it had required half a pot of coffee to burn away the fuzzy aftertaste of his bachelor party. He’d left a note—unauthorized but nonnegotiable—for his bride. The woman who’d eventually given up on him. Not that he blamed her.

He kept his eyes forward, even as the sound of feminine high heels clicked across the marble floor on the other side of the door. Closer, closer, then fading away.

Had his bride chosen heels or flats? He recalled overhearing the debate with her maid of honor, but he’d never known the final decision.

The last time he’d been uprooted on the precipice of a major life event his commanding officer had insisted there’d been no time for even a cursory marriage ceremony. This time, someone with serious money and authority had pulled him away from a major basketball game between the top two teams in the Detroit recreational league. The score tied, less than five minutes left, he’d been forced away. Unable to stem the curiosity, Drew gave in and glanced at his watch. The game had ended hours ago and without his phone, he still didn’t know who won.

It pissed him off. Bragging rights were riding on that game, and these days that was all the stress he wanted, but life rarely cooperated with his wants.

Drew snorted as another minute clicked by on the wall clock. The kids he worked with in Detroit kept him from wallowing in self-pity after the army had shown him the door with an early retirement for medical reasons. Retired at thirty-six years old. Unbelievable. That hadn’t been part of the plan. He rarely let it bother him, but today when something from his past was clearly interrupting his present, he couldn’t shake off the irritation.

He knew this drill, knew someone from the alphabet soup of government agencies had pulled strings to drag him out of Detroit last night. But if it was so important it couldn’t wait until the end of the game, why was he parked in limbo here?

The high heels approached once more and Drew shifted his face, his entire body into neutral. The heels stopped and the glass door opened with an understated whoosh.

“Mr. Bryant?”

“Yes.” He stood, facing the woman who remained in the doorway. She was slender, her sleek navy blue dress making a professional and feminine statement. Noting the long legs and high heels, he pegged her as a dancer by training. Watching her approach, he knew she was an expert in martial arts, as well. If a woman like this was merely a receptionist in this place, he might be in more trouble than he could handle.

“Our apologies for the delay,” she said with a polite smile. “I’ve been told you might appreciate this video while you wait. It shouldn’t be much longer.” She handed him a tablet and returned to her side of the glass doors.

He looked at the screen, baffled as he recognized the basketball court and uniforms of the players. It couldn’t be... He sank back into his chair and, touching the icon, put the video into motion. “I’ll be damned,” he muttered, watching the last minutes of the basketball game.

Immersed in the video action, he forgot where he was, forgot to wonder why, and just enjoyed watching his team take the win in a nail-biting last-second shot. “Yes!” He pumped his fist and watched as one of the more headstrong kids from the neighborhood enjoyed a hero’s celebration.

Drew took a deep breath, relieved and relaxed that his kids were making progress within the community. Something was finally going right. That neighborhood, those kids were coming together as a team and as a family of sorts. Knowing his small part in the overall puzzle made a difference was enough to keep him moving forward instead of stalling out.

A big accomplishment for a man who’d nearly lost his mind when the life he’d dreamed of slipped out of his grasp. Stolen was a more accurate term, but according to the army shrinks, that word held negative connotations. They wanted him to reframe, rephrase, re-everything when all he wanted was to rewind and make a different choice in the early hours of his wedding day.

“They’re ready for you now, Mr. Bryant.”

She was back and he hadn’t even heard her approach. He knew better, knew he had to keep his mind off the past or it would swallow him up. Drew stood and smiled. “Thanks for this.” He extended the tablet.

“You’re welcome.” She accepted the device with another courteous smile. “This way.”

He followed the slender woman, the only sound the click of her heels, but even that went quiet when she turned down a carpeted hallway. They passed a bank of blacked-out windows of what was probably a conference room. When they passed another small reception area and one nearly closed office door, Drew’s stomach dropped.

They were headed for the corner office, a destination that in his experience didn’t ever add up to anything good. The woman stopped at the open door, announced him, then stepped back. Going forward was the only option. She closed the door behind him as he entered.

He felt underdressed in his gym clothes compared to the man in the dark suit and expensive tie. The man rose from his elegant chair and came around the desk quickly, hand extended. “I’m Director Thomas Casey.” The grip was firm and brief as they shook hands. “Come have a seat, Mr. Bryant.”

Drew couldn’t hide his surprise. Thomas Casey was one of those names whispered in dark corners by people with the highest clearances. Among the microcommunity of black ops and special operations, the man who supposedly coordinated a crack team of “Specialists” was nearly urban legend. “I thought you were a myth,” Drew admitted as Thomas returned to his big chair behind the desk.

“That’s the way I like it.” The smile was as firm and as brief as the handshake. “I appreciate your cooperation on such short notice.”

“Didn’t feel like there was much choice, sir.”

“Call me Thomas.”

Another surprise. “Sure.”

“You saw the end of the game, I trust.”

“Yes, thank you.” He wondered if Thomas arranged for the game to be recorded, or if one of his Specialists had pulled it off YouTube.

“It came down to the wire.”

Drew nodded. “Always better for both teams that way.”

“Probably so.” Thomas studied Drew another moment. “Solid effort and a close call incite more determination to win the next game. We understand that here,” he said. “I’ve looked into your background as well as your present situation. What you’re doing in Detroit is good work.”

“I like it,” Drew said, hiding his surprise at the compliment. “And I’d like to get back to it.”

“I’m sure. Let’s talk about that. It’s not my practice to pull people away from good work, but I find myself in a tight spot. I believe your skills and knowledge would be helpful.”

Drew waited in silence, curious. He no longer had the security clearance to even sit in this room. Thomas, having poked through his background, knew that. None of Drew’s kids were into anything that would be of interest to the director. He couldn’t think of a single way he could be helpful, but he’d listen. It would be rude not to after he’d been hauled out here.

“You aren’t curious?” Thomas asked.

“I am.” But he wasn’t going to reveal anything to this master spook by asking questions.

“All right.” Thomas gave a wry chuckle when Drew didn’t elaborate. “Federal authorities made an arrest based on an almost anonymous tip.”

Almost anonymous? Drew hadn’t heard that phrase before.

“The person who shared the information requested that she be left out of it and we’re doing our best to honor that from an investigative standpoint.”

Drew wanted to stop Thomas right there, to point out that he wasn’t in the market for a bodyguard gig, didn’t have the head for it anymore, but he kept his mouth shut and his ears open.

“You’ve been through some hard times, Mr. Bryant.”

“Drew is fine,” he replied, wondering why the subject had changed. If this had something to do with the bastards who’d held him as a POW for six years in a cave in Afghanistan, he might opt in to whatever the director had in mind. A little revenge could go a long way toward healing. It was a dangerous line of thought, but Drew let it play out. Thinking about something and acting on it were two different animals. He’d learned that quickly as a prisoner and in the agonizing months of recovery that followed his escape and rescue.

“Do you feel you’re fit for service?”

Drew met Thomas’s assessing gaze. “Depends on the type of service, I suppose. The army found me to be more hindrance than help.”

“Are you?”

“Didn’t have the chance to find out,” Drew blurted before thinking through a better reply.

“Tell me about your recovery.”

Drew could see no way of avoiding the topic. Not in this room. Better to lay it out there than allow Thomas to continue to entertain his delusions. If the man managed to maintain myth status in a place like Washington, Drew could safely assume his personal secrets wouldn’t leave the room.

Still, he played it close. “Long. Physically, I’d lost muscle mass to the malnutrition and poor conditions. That came back quick enough after a few weeks in the hospital with proper nutrition and a few months of physical therapy. They had to reset an arm and do a little work on my back.”

He still felt guilty and selfish when he thought of those endless days with no contact beyond hospital staff and the occasional visit from a chaplain or army officials. He should have been full of gratitude, but instead he’d battled a terrible sense of loss and isolation no matter how they praised him for surviving.

“I heard your father died while you were a prisoner.”

“Yes.” His superiors had explained valid reasons for not publicizing his return to anyone, not even family. “They showed me the obituary, told me he was buried next to my mom.”

“No one from your past knows you’re alive. There’s no reason to keep your survival a secret now.”

“There’s no reason to throw a parade, either,” Drew countered. “A few people from my old neighborhood recognized me when I came back.”

“I’m sure they were happy to see you.”

“Pretty much.” Almost a year later, he was okay with his neighbors, too. With his father dead, the only other person Drew had wanted to see was the bride he’d left waiting at the altar. She was the final piece of his recovery, and everyone who’d had a hand in it knew he needed to reach out to her. Too bad no one had warned him what he’d find.

Despite the years, having heard about his wedding plans from his father, the neighbors were eager to meet the woman they’d only seen in wedding announcement photos. When he’d felt strong enough, he’d gone looking for her and returned alone. After about six months his neighbors stopped asking about her.

“Took a while to get past all the sympathy,” Drew said. It was all the explanation he felt Thomas needed on his personal life.

“That’s reasonable.”

It sure hadn’t felt that way at the time, but it was done now and he had carved out a new place for himself. He might spend his nights alone, but based on the persistent nightmares, that was for the best.

The back of his neck prickling, Drew wanted to shift the topic back to Thomas’s invasion of his new life, but again he waited quietly for the director to make the move.

“Addison Collins.” Thomas tossed out the name, like a bomb in the middle of his desk, and leaned back to watch Drew’s reaction.

His body went cold at the sound of her name. Suddenly he wanted to talk about the POW camp. The injuries. The nightmares. The dirt cell and lousy food. Anything but her.

“Have you had any contact with your fiancée lately?”

“Former fiancée,” Drew corrected. “And no.” He didn’t even let himself think of her. Not after he’d seen her playing freeze tag with another man and a little boy in San Francisco last fall. He’d been close enough to see the smile on her face, to hear her carefree, happy laughter. Close enough to see the ring on her finger sporting a diamond easily twice the size of the one he’d given her years ago. She’d been so obviously settled and content with her family that he’d walked away rather than ruin her day and twist up her life.

“Why do you ask?” He ignored the calculating gleam in Thomas’s quick smile. Drew could no more hold back that question than stop the next sunrise. With a nearly audible snap, a piece clicked into place. “She’s the tipster.”

“Yes. And she’s gone missing.”

“So ask her husband.” Drew’s throat went dry and his palms went damp. Addi was fine. Had to be fine. He couldn’t accept anything else where she was concerned.

“Well...” Thomas hesitated. “You haven’t seen any of the news coverage on this?”

Drew shook his head. Knowing his emotional limits, he didn’t do any more than scan the local headlines, and sometimes that was more bad news than he could handle.

“Craig Everett.” Thomas opened a file and showed him a picture of the man who’d been with Addi in the park. “He and Ms. Collins planned to marry at the end of the summer, but he’s also gone missing.”

Planned? “She’s not married?” Had he missed an important chance to be with her? It was hard to think about that. He’d been so sure about what he’d seen. Maybe she’d been married and divorced before Everett came along.

“No marriage on record,” Thomas confirmed. “What we do know is that she turned over damning evidence and abruptly left town. She hasn’t been seen anywhere in just over two weeks.”

It didn’t make sense. Drew thought of the little boy, wondering if the kid belonged to Addison or Everett.

“The evidence Addison provided against Everett is excellent, but I think she knows more.”

“If the evidence is so great, why do you need more?”

Thomas sighed. “Because I was informed last night that Everett escaped during a transfer between facilities.”

Drew swore, unable to sit still any longer. He shifted in the chair, pushed a hand through his hair. “How’d you let that happen?”

“I didn’t.” The director’s voice went cold. “Reviewing everything we have, I’ve concluded Everett’s connections are too good. I believe Addison can confirm my suspicions and help me plug what must be a leak on the government side.”

Better and better, Drew thought, but he couldn’t get the image of Addison, scared and on the run, out of his mind. “What did Everett do?”

“Based on this initial evidence, he’s used his contacts among import-export businesses to start a sideline brokering deals for controlled software and hard intel on human assets in sensitive areas. We’re not yet sure if it started as his idea or—”

“She had nothing to do with that.”

“You sound sure.”

“I am.” No matter how she’d moved on with her life, Addison wasn’t a traitor. He could only imagine how angry she’d been to discover the secrets this Everett guy had been hiding.

“For the record, I agree with you.”

No surprise. Thomas would’ve done all the background research on everyone involved in what must be a fiasco from the government side. It wouldn’t take much legwork to look at Addison’s background and find her first near-miss marriage. He clenched his fist. Her fiancé would’ve heard all about her past without the hassle of gathering intel. “Why am I here?”

“As I said, she’s gone missing, and I think you’re just the man to find her.”

Would his past never stay buried? “I don’t know anything about her anymore.”

“Which is precisely the kind of advantage I’m looking for. No one on my team has found a trace of her since her BMW wound up in a used car lot in Arizona.”

Just because she’d been south and east of San Francisco didn’t mean she’d keep going that direction. “That leaves a lot of territory to cover. What about Everett?”

Thomas’s expression clouded over. “Also off the radar right now. He could very well be searching for Ms. Collins, too, planning to buy her off or to silence her.”

Drew understood which option was more likely. Addison had integrity in spades.

“My hope,” Thomas continued, “is that you can find her first and bring her in. I can protect her.”

Drew felt a hot lick of panic. This couldn’t be happening. “What do you expect me to do? What do I tell her?” He’d seen the fallen hero obituary in the scrapbook his father had created. He’d read the few letters Addison had written to his dad in the months following their interrupted wedding and his capture. “She thinks I’m dead.”

“I understand this is overwhelming,” Thomas said. “We have resources here. Why don’t you consider yourself a consultant? Give me a direction, some idea where she might be hiding, and help guide the team I send out to find her.”

If Drew’s gut instinct was right and Addison was heading to her home turf, Thomas’s team wouldn’t stand a chance. The woman he’d known, the woman he’d planned to marry, had always been ferociously independent and smart as a whip. If she was on the run and didn’t want to be found, there was only one place she’d go. And if anyone cornered her there, she’d strike first and ask for identification later.

“No.” Resigned, Drew accepted his fate. He couldn’t leave this to anyone else. Whether or not he was thrilled by the idea of seeing her again, he figured he was the only one with a chance of convincing her to come out of hiding. “I’ll find her.”

“That’s the best news I’ve had since they dumped this on my desk,” Thomas admitted.

“I’ll need gear.”

“We have the best.”

“I’ll need cash for a car and cell phone in addition to the travel expenses.”

Thomas pursed his lips. “Done.”

“I’ll find Addison, but I can’t promise to bring her in.” He cut off Thomas’s automatic protest. “We both know she won’t be safe until Everett and that leak are contained. She knows that, too. I’ll monitor the news and do my best, but don’t count on a quick resolution where she’s concerned.”

“Agreed.” Thomas pressed a button on his phone. “My assistant will show you downstairs. Take whatever you need to get the job done.”

“Yes, sir.” If he thought about timelines and proximity, he’d lose it. Reminding himself life was a day-to-day effort, he focused on the first step: gearing up.

The T-shirt, warm-up pants and sneakers weren’t going to hold up to what amounted to a manhunt through some difficult terrain.

Drew turned in his seat when the door opened and stood up as the receptionist returned. If he was right, if he still knew the woman at all, he’d soon be face-to-face with Addison. Surreal was a vast understatement. He couldn’t decide if he should be terrified or ecstatic at the prospect. He supposed her reaction would help him decide.

Chapter Three

Thomas pushed his chair away from his desk and stood, restless and uncertain about what he’d just set in motion.

Not so long ago he’d been given a second chance and reunited with the only woman he’d ever loved. His personal success should give him hope for Drew and Addison, but he couldn’t quite drum up that elusive emotion for this situation. Sending Drew to track down Addison could backfire. Not just for the two of them—three if he counted the little boy—but for the integrity of the operational mess he’d inherited.

It seemed more and more challenging lately to think of his Specialists as assets. They were all capable and strong people who, at the end of the day, were here as tools to be applied to specific purposes and operations. It was a particular trial when the people he assigned, like Drew, weren’t even part of his elite program.

Time to hand over the reins. He stared through his big office window, blind to the stunning view. A knock sounded at his door. “Come in,” he called without turning.

“I saw Bryant leave,” Deputy Director Emmett Holt said. “Did he agree to help?”

Thomas loosened his tie as he returned to his desk chair. There was no need to stand on formality with Holt, who understood all too well what was riding on this operation.

“He agreed.”

“But?” Holt sank into one of the visitors’ chairs opposite Thomas. “You look like you’ve eaten bad fish.”

“I feel a bit like that, to tell the truth. This could backfire. In a big way.”

“Were there other options?”

Thomas drummed his fingers on the supple leather arm of his chair. “No.” The whole reason they’d brought Drew into this was because Addison had disappeared. Completely. “But it’s a lot to ask.”

“He’ll manage.”

Thomas met Holt’s sharp gaze. “I meant her. Addison’s running for her life, for her son’s life, and we’re sending out a ghost to find her. She has no idea what happened—only that he never made it to their wedding.”

“Then I stand corrected.”

Thomas arched an eyebrow. “He won’t manage?”

“No. She will manage.”

It sounded like a magic-wand theory to Thomas’s ears, and that was one theory everyone in his line of work always rejected. “He’s not a trained Specialist.”

“Oh, so that’s the problem.”

Thomas didn’t like the half smile on Holt’s face. “Explain.”

“You feel guilty for sending an unqualified civilian after a high-value asset.”

“That’s not true.” Where the hell was this coming from? He and Holt had different management styles, but this series of irritating questions wasn’t typical. “Bryant might be a civilian now, but he could step in and train our recruits on anything at a moment’s notice.”

“So he’s qualified.”

“More than.”

“Then I guess you’re feeling guilty because we didn’t have an equally qualified Specialist available?”

They both knew the roster and they both took great pride in the skills of the men and women on their team. “Why the hell are you being so difficult?”

“Because you need to ease up on yourself,” Holt said, his expression somber. “The woman and her kid are missing, Everett escaped with some damned sophisticated help and you just sent out the best option for everyone involved.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Thomas wasn’t sure how else to interpret that tidy speech.

“If that’s what you need, you’re welcome.” Holt leaned forward. “We talked about it, looked at every asset before you brought Bryant in. He is the only choice for this mission.”

Thomas knew that was correct. Even logical.

“Personally,” Holt continued, “I believe he’ll succeed, no matter how she reacts to seeing him again. He’s resourceful. He’ll bring her in or make sure we can.”

“You’re right,” Thomas allowed, though he knew this decision would haunt him well into his retirement if it went wrong. He rubbed the palm of one hand with the opposite thumb. “I’ve never once forgotten that our Specialists are people. We demand more than we should—”

“But never more than we’re willing to give ourselves,” Holt finished for him. “That philosophy—your philosophy—is at the heart of our entire program. Don’t ever doubt it.”

“All right.” Thomas raised his hands, palms out. There had been a time, not too long ago, when Thomas had doubted his philosophy and much more. He’d doubted Holt’s loyalty to the Specialists and the nation at large. Been certain he’d made the wrong call naming Holt as the next director.

No longer. Holt had proved himself in the field and protected the Mission Recovery office during a complicated attack from one of Thomas’s old enemies. Not only that, he’d recently become family by marrying Thomas’s sister. “Thanks for the pep talk,” he said, the burden feeling a bit lighter. “It’s the kid,” he added, finally articulating the real issue. He and Jo wanted to start a family soon, and although his wife was as independent and resourceful as Addison, Thomas knew how far he’d go if someone took aim at his wife or their children.

“I figured,” Holt said with a sympathetic nod.

“Cecelia is expecting you and Jo to join the family for July Fourth weekend.”

“We’re looking forward to it,” Thomas said, more relieved than he should be about the change of topic. “Jo is making noise about getting a boat of our own when I retire.”

“Want me to keep an eye out for you?”

“A casual eye.” He recognized Holt’s method of shifting the topic to something more normal. “But I don’t want her to know I’m looking yet.”

“Lucky for you, I can keep a secret,” Holt said, heading for the doorway.

“I’m well aware.” Thomas smiled as Holt walked out, the guilt of Addison and Drew’s situation muted. For now.

He’d needed the reminder that Holt provided. If Drew had given the first sign that he’d cave under the pressure of the request, Thomas would’ve found another way to track down Addison.

As it was, he was back to hoping the reunion, although certain to be awkward and emotional, would result in capturing the traitorous Everett and the root of his network so Addison and her son could return to life without fear of retribution.

Chapter Four

Louisiana bayou

Saturday, July 5, 7:35 p.m.

In the fading light of another warm summer day, Addison came outside with two bowls of ice cream. Sitting next to Andy on the top step of the porch, she handed him one.

“We had ice cream last night.”

“It’s summer,” Addison said with a smile. “And you’ve played hard all day. Besides, it won’t keep forever.” Her friend Nico, father of Bernadette, her best childhood friend, had given her permission to stay here in his mother’s old place. He’d brought them out by boat and had delivered more supplies yesterday. Although she appreciated what the weather-worn shack provided, she didn’t trust the ancient freezer on the back porch.

Andy didn’t waste time arguing over the bonus treat and he dug in with enthusiasm.

As dark crept in from the edges of the swamp, the insects ramped up with an evening chorus that rose and fell with the soft breeze. In the tall marsh grass across the water, fireflies took flight. “Look.” She pointed toward the soft twinkling.

“Can I catch some? Nico told me kids here use them as night-lights.”

“Not tonight.” She was tired and wary despite being as alone as a person could be out here. Other than Nico’s, she hadn’t even heard another boat in the area for days, yet she felt edgy as if they were being watched. They’d been here for two weeks, and according to the news, Craig continued to evade authorities as the story of his illegal dealings came out in dribs and drabs. “I did that a few times when I was your age,” she said to her son. “Even once during a campout right here.”

“Really?” His eyes were wide.

“Mmm-hmm. Mama Leonie, Nico’s mom, lived out here more than in town. Nico’s daughter was my best friend and we used to come here every chance we got. There was only one room then.”

“No bedroom?”

Addison shook her head. “She didn’t want one.”

“Where did she sleep?”

“Outside on the back porch.” Addison looked around once more, picturing it as it had been. “I always thought it was the best tree house.”

“But it’s not in the tree. I think we should call it a swamp fort.” Andy twisted around and then leaned forward to peer through the slatted porch to the water below. “I like this part hanging over the water.”

“It keeps the rooms cooler.”

“Huh.”

Addison smiled to herself. The conversation relaxed her. Feeling watched was simply paranoia, which wasn’t unexpected. Nico had assured her no one came out this way much since Leonie’s death a few years back. He promised that she and Andy would be safe in the old Voodoo Queen’s place. Few people knew this place was still habitable. More important, only two people knew that Addison knew about it.

“This is a real adventure, Mom.” Andy scooped up another big bite of ice cream. “I saw a frog out there.” He pointed with his spoon toward the edge of the water. “And an alligator down that way.” The spoon moved down the shore, away from the house.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded, his mouth full and a sticky stain of chocolate bracketing its corners. “Nico showed me how to spot ’em.”

“Did he?”

“Uh-huh.”

“He’s the expert.” Nico knew these swamps inside and out and stayed busy as a tour guide. When she’d knocked on his door in the middle of the night two weeks ago, he hadn’t batted an eye at her request for help. Stomping into his boots, he’d taken her keys and driven her out to the edge of the swamp without asking any uncomfortable questions. After promising he wouldn’t mention her arrival to anyone, he’d loaded two boats, tied them together and guided her out here. Once they’d unloaded and he was satisfied she had key supplies, he’d left her one boat and returned to his dock with the other.

She supposed other people might’ve felt obligated to help because she’d sent money back to help with Mama Leonie’s health care and final expenses. But Nico lived by a different philosophy. You took care of your own, no matter how much time or silence passed between visits. That had shown through when he’d returned with a boatload of supplies at midday, and he’d clearly spent some important time with Andy while she’d put things away in the house.

Now they had a stock of wood and charcoal, a generator and fuel to keep the small luxuries like the freezer, the ancient water heater and the two lightbulbs inside the shack going. They couldn’t stay here indefinitely, but they could certainly stay through the summer and longer if she hadn’t figured out the next step by then.

“Mom, the swamp is kinda creepy at night.”

She felt herself smiling. “In a good way?”

“Yeah!

“Nico told me his mom knew everything about the swamp.”

“She sure did. And she loved to teach anyone who’d listen. She treated me like a granddaughter. I learned her secret recipe for pancakes when I turned ten.”

Andy looked up at her. “Would she have been my grandma, too?”

“You better believe it. The two of you would’ve been best friends.” She rubbed her hand across his small shoulders. “Leonie was very special. I loved coming out here to see her.”

“This was your adventure place?”

Addison nodded. “Yes. And it’s good to be back.” More than she’d expected, really. It felt like home, even though she wasn’t anywhere near the farm where she’d grown up in Mississippi.

“I think it’s better than SeaWorld!”

“Just don’t try and pet a gator.” They shared a quiet laugh. “Tomorrow we can start exploring. I can show you what’s—”

“Safe,” Andy interrupted with a put-upon sigh. “You said we wouldn’t have to be together the whole time on this adventure.”

“I said we wouldn’t have to be in the car the whole time. And you’ve been playing on your own, right?”

“Right.”

“I just want to be sure you know what to do or where to go if you come across something dangerous.” Or someone.

Craig wouldn’t have the first idea of how to find this place, shouldn’t even know about it, but she wanted to be sure Andy knew how to find Nico in case they were somehow injured or separated.

“That doesn’t sound like an adventure.”

“Oh, it will be.”

Water splashed nearby. Andy turned to her with wide eyes. “Was that a gator?”

“Probably not. Gators slide into the water and most of the time they hardly make a sound or even a ripple.” A small exaggeration, but worth the resulting expression of wonder on his face. “A sound like that’s usually a fish or frog.” Not a person, she reminded herself. People who slipped or splashed made even more noise.

“Nico taught you that, didn’t he?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She held out her empty bowl, let him stack his on top. “Take those inside to the sink, please.”

“Do I have to wash ’em?”

“No, sweetie. I’ll do it after bedtime.”

She listened to his small footsteps, waited for the inevitable noise as the bowls and spoons landed with a clatter in the old porcelain sink. He rushed back out to join her a moment later, the screen door slapping shut behind him.

“About bedtime...”

She smiled into his serious face. “Yes?”

“It’s summer, so there isn’t such thing as a school night.”

“I noticed.”

“And we’re on an adventure.”

“We are.” She knew where he was headed, but she waited for him to say what was on his mind.

“Could I not have a bedtime?”

She waited. This was the way they did things. He had to ask nicely even when he delivered sound reasons.

“Please,” he added quickly with a winning smile.

“You still have a lot of growing to do,” she pointed out. “Sleep is important for growing.” Just after Christmas she’d bought him new tennis shoes, only to have him grow out of them within a few days. “Enough sleep,” she amended, anticipating his next argument.

His face fell but only for a moment. “There were nights last summer that didn’t have bedtime and we were at home.”

“True.” She drilled her finger at his belly, making him squeal and jump back. “There will be nights like that on our adventure, too.”

“It’s not even all the way dark yet.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t late.” And her son rose early, ready and eager for every day. She was more than a little grateful when she realized how well Nico had updated the place through the years. She wouldn’t have to settle for instant coffee.

She patted the top step. “Come sit with me and we’ll count the first stars.”

Andy dropped down beside her, just a little sulky with his elbows on his knees and his chin propped on his fists.

“You can’t see the stars if you’re looking at the water.”

He dutifully looked up, his lower lip poking out like a shelf. “Wow. There’s lots up there already.” Interested now, he forgot to pout.

They counted more than twenty as the sky transformed into an inky purple above the tall cypress trees. When she heard him yawn, she nudged him back inside the “swamp fort.” Leaning against the doorway, she kept her weary little man on task as he chattered through the bedtime rituals.

The little things like pajamas and brushing teeth felt so normal even in Mama Leonie’s rambling little shack. “Which one will it be tonight?” She hefted the backpack full of comics onto the narrow bed near his feet.

His eyebrows drew together as he considered. “Will you tell me more about Mama Leonie?”

Surprised, she agreed. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Why did she live out here all alone?”

Addison gathered her thoughts, drew hard on her memory to recall the tales. She didn’t want to scare Andy with voodoo stories, but she didn’t want to paint Leonie as anything other than the wonderful woman she’d been.

“Nico’s mama didn’t live out here alone all the time. She raised Nico and his brothers and sisters closer to town.”

Andy stared at the little room. “Because the swamp fort was too small?”

“Partly.”

“Why not just make it bigger?”

“They already had a bigger house. Maybe I’ll take you by it one day.” Addison settled on the edge of the bed while Andy squished himself and his pillow into a comfortable position. Going through the familiar motions soothed her. “But she always had this place for herself.”

“So it was her adventure place.”

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose you’re right. Mama Leonie came out here to meet with people who needed things. She practiced a religion called voodoo.”

“She turned people into zombies?” Andy’s eyes went wide as saucers but with more excitement than fear. Addison hoped it would always be that way, the opportunity for discovery outweighing potential distress.

“Of course not. She was smart and kind and full of compassion for people. She was more like a doctor or therapist.”

“But voodoo has zombies.”

“Comic books have voodoo zombies.” Addison wondered if she needed to rein him in a bit. “In real life, voodoo isn’t nearly so creepy.” She walked her fingers over his foot and up his leg and tickled him behind the knee. He giggled and squirmed out of reach. “It’s complicated but interesting, and the people around her counted on Leonie like they would a doctor or therapist.” She stood and managed to kiss his forehead before he could protest. “Now get some sleep.”

“Like a zombie?”

“If it helps you grow,” she said with a laugh.

“Where are you sleeping?”

“I’ll put my sleeping bag in here with you. After I take care of the dishes.”

“And your quiet time.”

That habit was one definite success in her parenting career. As soon as Andy had been old enough to understand, she’d taught him to appreciate the quiet time she needed in the evenings. “That’s right. Now quit stalling and go to sleep.”

“Did Mama Leonie ever do voodoo on you?” Andy asked before she could get out the door.

“Maybe I’ll tell you that story tomorrow night.”

“Ah, come on.”

“Stalling. Love you, bear.”

“Love you, too,” he muttered, clearly resigned to losing the battle for more of a story.

She left the door cracked, the same way she did at home. It was a small compromise for him, but an added measure of security for her under these new circumstances.

At home during quiet time she would’ve heated water for tea and pulled out some reading for work or pleasure. Here, hot tea meant lighting the wood-burning stove or the grill outside. On such a sultry evening, it didn’t feel like a good idea to fill the kitchen with more heat. And she hesitated to start a fire in the grill at this hour.

Among the supplies Nico had delivered was a jug of homemade wine. She poured some into one of the mason jars that served as drink ware and carefully sipped. The sweet, light taste was a pleasant surprise and she bravely sipped a second time.

She washed and dried the dishes, stacking them back with the others on the open corner shelves near the small table. As a youngster she’d often been entrusted with this chore and had used a chair instead of a stepstool to get the job done.

The memories flooded through her, warm and comfortable, and for a fleeting moment she could almost hear the lilting voices filling the room with chatter and laughter. There had been good times here, each of them precious to her.

The creative “architecture” in the bayous was the polar opposite of the sleek designer spaces she’d left behind, and Addison found her fondness for this little shack and rugged natural surroundings hadn’t changed. She’d learned early, from her own humble beginnings, that the value wasn’t in the furnishings of a place, but the people who filled it.

Mama Leonie and her family by blood and choice had filled this place with love, encouragement and hope. Still filled it, Addison thought as a breeze ruffled the curtains at the window over the sink. For the first time since leaving the West Coast, she felt a sliver of doubt about running here. She didn’t want to ruin the healthy vibe or cause any trouble for Nico and his family. The locals still revered this place because of all the good Leonie had done for them, but Craig wouldn’t care about any of that. If he found her, he’d have no respect for the history and simply level whatever stood between him and her.

Too bad he’d never understand the biggest gap was full of intangibles, not physical obstacles.

“Mama Leonie, if you can hear me,” Addison whispered, “I don’t want to bring you trouble. There was nowhere else to go.” Truly. Nowhere else Craig didn’t know about. She looked down, twisting the engagement ring on her finger. What a fool she’d been to share so much of her life, of herself, with a man capable of such crimes. Why hadn’t she seen through him? “I’m sorry if trouble follows me,” she murmured into the silence. “Any help you can send would be appreciated.”

She took off the ring and stuffed it in her pocket, scowling at the pale indentation left behind on her finger. The mark would fade and, with the bright days of summer, the pale line would soon fill in with healthy color. She’d taken a stand, done the right thing, and she had to trust the authorities to deal with Craig the right way. Soon.

Though her specialty was corporate law, she understood Craig and his legal defense team would make the most of every loophole available. Knowing the system too well to trust it blindly, she’d taken that final precaution and had mailed extra information on to a neutral party.

Addison paused at the cracked door, hearing Andy’s steady breathing. They were out of harm’s way. Safe. She repeated the word as she carried her glass of wine to the hammock on the back porch, screened in thanks to Nico’s hard work.

Letting the hammock swing her gently, she reviewed every detail of her discovery, her report and her escape, looking for missteps, for anything Craig might twist to his advantage.

He could drag her into it by association, but she’d never had anything to do with his dealings. Although her firm hadn’t balked at her request for six weeks off, she knew it was only a matter of time before she was unemployed. Her firm wouldn’t tolerate the bad publicity of having her name dragged through the mud because she’d been idiot enough to nearly marry a traitor. Smart women weren’t supposed to fall for the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Her only saving grace was she’d found out before exchanging vows, but that wouldn’t be enough to save her job.

She tipped back more of the wine, draining the glass, considering another glass. To pour or not to pour? became the most pertinent question. She used a toe to push off and send the hammock rocking again while she made up her mind.

It was so peaceful out here, the darkness so deep and quiet. She’d loved the West Coast city life, loved the challenges and perks of a high-powered, well-paying job. Being a single parent of an active, intelligent son had ups and downs, but at the end of every day, there was unconditional love. Everything about that life, except her son, was over. Where did that leave her? Where did she want to go next?

Money wasn’t a big, immediate problem. Having been raised on next to nothing, she’d invested well and saved more through the years. Only Bernadette, as the executor of Addison’s will and potential guardian for Andy, had access to those accounts.

She rubbed at the space between her eyebrows, wishing once more that there had been a way to warn Bernadette of the oncoming storm. But that kind of move would’ve been dangerous. During her relationship with Craig, she’d mentioned a few of their young and stupid antics in New Orleans, and he’d taken care of Andy six months ago when she and Bernadette had spent a girls’ weekend in Tahoe.

Did fools come any bigger than she’d been with Craig?

Rolling to her feet, Addison headed back inside with her mason jar. She’d done all she could, taken every precaution, including running here, the safest place she knew. There was nothing left to do but wait it out. She had nearly six weeks left before school started. Out here, with only Nico as a contact, surely that would be enough time for her to know how much farther she’d have to run to provide Andy with as normal a life as possible.

Walking inside, she closed the door and checked the load on the shotgun. It had felt odd in her hands at first, but after a few hours of practice, shooting at stationary targets and then moving ones, her hands and body remembered the routine.

Carrying the shotgun with her, she unrolled her sleeping bag on the kitchen side of the narrow bedroom doorway. Settling on top of the thick layers of fabric for the remainder of the night, Addison listened to the soft hum of the refrigerator. It seemed to underscore the gentle, content sounds of her son sleeping on the cot in the corner on the other side of the door.

Bugs continued whirring and chirping outside, and she heard the occasional splash from fish, frog or turtle beneath the stilted house. They were safe. Craig couldn’t find them here. If he searched anywhere, he was more likely to start with the small plot of land in Mississippi that still held her name on the title. It was on public record, which she couldn’t change now. Although he knew she’d loved visiting New Orleans, she’d never told him anything about her dirt-stained summers out here in the bayou.

Nico had promised to keep her presence here a secret as well as keep her informed of any suspicious strangers who might appear and ask questions. She had the radio, and maybe in a week or two she’d risk a trip into town to scour the internet for any warning signs and check in with Professor Hastings.

Addison discarded the idea immediately. Any contact with her friend and mentor earlier than planned would put her “insurance policy” in jeopardy. No one could know she’d sent him backup files of Craig’s treacherous dealings as well as more incriminating evidence. She thought of all the names she didn’t know on his contact lists, the lists she’d downloaded from his phone and computer before sending them anonymously to the FBI.

With any luck, they would keep that as an ace up their sleeve, the secret weapon he wouldn’t be prepared to explain away in court. Combined with what she’d sent to Professor Hastings, Craig would never be free long enough to cause trouble for her or Andy. As long as they caught him.

As she drifted off to sleep, one hand on the stock of the shotgun, she almost believed it.

Minutes or hours later, Addison woke with a start. It was tricky, listening past the blood thudding in her ears, to figure out what had startled her. The refrigerator was quiet and she heard the creak of wind in the trees.

Not the wind, she realized, as the curtains over the sink were still. She strained for another clue, telling herself it was just another overreaction to new surroundings.

This time the quiet splash of water under the house was followed immediately by the soft rasp of a boat being pulled onto the grasses that lined the shore. Damn it all to hell. Someone had found her.

Immediate worry for Nico flashed through her. Guilt pricked her conscience. Had they hurt him to get a lead on her direction? Since Leonie’s death, there had been no reason to head into this part of the swamp. Many of the locals believed she haunted the place, and they preferred to avoid even benevolent ghosts.

Addison gripped the shotgun and sat up without making a sound. It might very well be someone familiar with the shack and in need of shelter. If they’d noticed the generator was going, it made sense to stop and ask for help, but Addison prepared to shoot first and ask questions later.

For several long moments nothing more than typical night swamp sounds reached her. Maybe whoever had been in the boat just needed to sleep off a wrong turn. It happened, and hospitality was part of the odd society out here. If they stayed down there with the boat, they wouldn’t have any trouble from her.

She’d just relaxed her hold on the gun when she caught the unmistakable creaking tread of the third step in the string leading to the porch. Addison tried to breathe, telling herself Craig wouldn’t come by night and sure as hell wouldn’t come to a place so rural without vocalizing his discomfort in the process.

But that had been the Craig she’d known—thought she’d known—not the greedy bastard who’d brokered terrible deals that ended with dead US citizens.

She listened, her palms going damp as whoever was outside climbed closer to the porch. Part of her wanted to run, to grab Andy and bolt through the back, but she’d only heard one person. She could take one person.

“Addison?”

The inquiry, delivered in a low whisper, only revealed that the speaker was male. Nico would’ve announced himself already, knowing she was armed and prepared to defend herself.

So who else out here could possibly know her name?

The intruder made no secret of his approach now. He leaned close to the window. “Addison? Are you in there?”

Without a porch light, the intruder’s identity was impossible to make out, but he was nearly at the door.

“Hello?” The voice, a little stronger, sounded familiar. “Addi?”

Addison’s heart clutched. She knew that voice, and only one man had ever called her by that nickname. Drew Bryant, her long-dead fiancé.

She shook her head. Clearly she’d let the stress and worry get to her. Drew wasn’t here, wasn’t even alive. This was probably just a vivid dream induced by Andy’s talk of zombies. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, urging her brain to wake up.

The screen-door hinges squealed and the handle of the main door turned. A dream, she thought, it has to be a dream. No one but Nico knew she was here. As the door eased open, Addison leveled the shotgun at the man casting shadows across the weak moonlight spilling through the door.

“Addi, it’s me, Drew. I’m here to help.”

Wake up!

Addison fired. The loud report deafened her to the splintering wood as the buckshot pelted the front door. The reactions of the stranger in front of her were like a bad mime, first ducking behind the door, then rushing forward and taking the gun before she could fire again.

“It’s me,” he said, his voice lost in the ringing in her ears.

The single lightbulb came on and she covered her mouth, barely smothering the scream lodged in her chest. “No. No.” This wasn’t possible. It was a cruel twist of her overwrought imagination. She pushed to her feet, away from the man with Drew’s face. Any second now she’d wake up from this horrible nightmare.

“Mommy?” It was her son’s tiny voice that ripped through her confusion and brought her back to her senses. She had to protect Andy at all costs.

“I’m here, Andy.” She couldn’t decide. Comfort her son or confront the man in front of her.

“Take care of him.” The man carefully leaned the gun against the wall closest to her. “Then I’ll explain and you can shoot me if you want to.”

It was such a Drew thing to say that she followed her instincts and tended to Andy.

“Why did the gun go off? Are we in trouble?”

“Someone startled me, that’s all.” She ushered her boy back into bed and pulled the covers up tight. “It’s late. Go back to sleep.”

“Who is that?” He rubbed his eyes.

“An unexpected friend.” It was a simpler answer than explaining her possible hallucinations. “He doesn’t want to hurt us.” Apparitions and hallucinations didn’t have enough substance to hurt anyone. She hoped. Whoever—whatever—was out there, he’d taken the gun from her all too easily. “He startled me and I fired the gun, that’s all.”

“I’m scared.”

“That’s understandable,” she said with more calm than she felt with her heart pounding. “But I won’t let anything bad happen. In the morning I’ll tell you the whole story.” Assuming she’d know the story by then. At least it gave her a bit of time to think of something logical.

They both gave the doorway a look when they heard the scrape of a chair across the wood floor.

“Promise?”

She pressed a kiss to his brow and wrapped him in a big hug. “I promise.” Holding her son in her arms and smelling the sweet scent of his hair, she knew this wasn’t a bizarre, unbelievable nightmare. The man in the kitchen might really be Drew. She tensed. If so, he owed her a detailed explanation.

“You’ll tell me if I need to find Nico, right?” he whispered into her ear.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She couldn’t imagine sending her little boy into the swamp, even if they had talked about that very scenario as a safety precaution. “That’s not necessary this time, especially not in the dark,” she said. “For now I need you to stay right here in this bed.” She leaned back, held his shoulders as she looked him in the eye. “Promise me.”

Andy promised, gave her another fierce hug and released her to deal with the man in the kitchen.

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