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by Glenna Sinclair

Clint studied my face for a long moment, clearly hesitant about what he was about to say. “I hope you can forgive my intrusion, but after that FBI agent came up here and told me about the attempt on your husband, I began looking into your past.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t have any secrets.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Your husband and child were killed a little over ten years ago?”

  “A drunk driver.”

  He nodded again. “I thought for a while that you might have taken out someone else associated with Jack’s interests, but when I saw that…you’re from Illinois?”

  “I am.”

  “Something most people don’t know about Jack is that he has several siblings. Five to be specific.”

  “Becky Kay was married to his nephew, right?”

  “Yes. That’s why he was after her. Why he’s probably still after her, just hasn’t found anyone brave enough to attempt to go after her while she’s so closely related to Gray Wolf.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “He has many nieces and nephews, many who worked for him in his organization. But he had one sister who was particularly close to him, a sister who married a farmer from Illinois. The marriage was a difficult one and the sister ended up moving back to Connecticut to be close to Jack. But several of her children remained in Illinois.”

  “You think one of his relatives passed through my life at some point?”

  “I know he did.” Clint pulled a cellphone out of his pocket, fiddled with it for a moment, then handed it to me. “You recognize him?”

  I did. And the sight of him sent a wave of fury and hatred through me that was just as intense as it was the first time I saw his face.

  The picture on Clint’s phone was of Carl Runion, the man who murdered my family.

  “He was drunk the night he hit my husband’s truck.”

  “Yes. And he went to jail.”

  I nodded. “What does he have to do with this?”

  “This is Jack Mahoney’s nephew by his sister Amanda Mahoney Runion.”

  A sense of dread settled on my shoulders. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Did you know he was caught up in some violence in prison and beaten so badly he ended up in a wheelchair?”

  I tilted my head slightly. “I…I wasn’t in a good place then. I didn’t keep up with news about him.”

  Clint took his phone back and flipped through it some more, handing it back with an article displayed on the screen. The headline read, Prisoner Commits Suicide.

  I set the phone on the table. “I have a hard time feeling sorry for him.”

  “I understand. But Jack Mahoney takes these things very personal. He brought his organization to Wyoming in part to help his nephew find his estranged wife. He tried to kill her in order to get revenge for the fact that he also committed suicide. Jack does not take attacks on his family lightly.”

  “You think Jack Mahoney is going after my husband in order to punish me for what happened to his drunk nephew?”

  “I can’t be too sure, but yes, that’s what I am thinking.”

  I shook my head, laughing mirthlessly. “He wants to punish me because karma came to rest on the man who murdered my family?” I shook my head. “He really is a piece of work!”

  Clint ran his hands over his face and sighed. “No one ever said Jack Mahoney was a rational man.”

  “Crazily enough, it all makes some sort sense in a bizarre way.” I sat back and looked out over the yard again, my thoughts clearer than they’d been in weeks. “He went after Ash because he arranged the beating that put Runion in the chair. It had nothing to do with Ash helping the FBI track him down.”

  “That’s likely.”

  “And the whole thing with Carrington…Mahoney wants me to suffer because his sister suffered from the death of her child.” I shook my head. “Never mind that man killed my husband and baby.”

  “Crime is an everyday part of their lives. His nephew doing time was a badge of honor in their family. But his death…that’s a whole different story.”

  I nodded. It was a story I’d heard before, so I don’t know why it enraged me as it did. But it did.

  “What do I do now?”

  “Guard your family. Get them out of town if you have to.”

  I shook my head, tears of frustration filling my eyes. “You have no idea what you’re saying to me.”

  He leaned forward again, those big, green eyes so filled with sympathy and so much compassion that it tore me up inside. “You can’t let him win. If you show even the smallest bit of weakness, he’ll take everything from you. I’ve seen it happen time and again over the years. And don’t make the mistake of thinking that because he’s in prison he’s weaker. He’s probably stronger there than anywhere else. All he has to do is sit back on his throne and use what he knows to manipulate people into helping him. The only way you can fight back is by keeping him from getting what he wants.” He touched my knee lightly. “Be strong, Joss. Don’t let him win.”

  “Will it ever end?”

  Clint’s eyes darkened. “Someday. No one can live forever, not even Jack Mahoney.”

  Chapter 11

  Erin

  I woke with a start, aware of the deep breathing of another body. For a moment, I thought I was back on ship, or in the bunkhouse on base. But then the familiar shapes and angles of my bedroom furniture began to come into focus.

  I was at home. So whose breathing was that?

  I sat up cautiously, the events of the night before coming back as soreness in my wrists and shoulders began to make itself known. Boone. He was reclined in a chair across my bedroom, his long legs stretched out in front of him and his arms tucked back behind his head which sat at an odd angle on his neck. He was asleep, his face made more handsome by the peacefulness of slumber. I watched him for a moment, remembering the conversation we’d had before settling in for the night.

  We’ve got to come up with a plan.

  We don’t know what their plan is. How can we come up with a plan to fight them if we don’t even know what—or who—we’re fighting?

  I don’t know. But a little sleep would be helpful.

  I agreed to let him stay against my better judgment. But when I fell asleep, he was on the couch in the living room, not my bedroom.

  I slipped silently out of bed and snatched my bathrobe off the back of the bathroom door, feeling terribly exposed in my boxers and t-shirt. I paused as I reached the door, watching his chest rise and fall. I’d been terrified the first night I’d had to sleep in the same room as a couple of men on ship. So terrified, in fact, that I suffered three nights without sleep before exhaustion finally overruled everything else. But I wasn’t frightened now. I was unsettled. Agitated. But not frightened.

  Was I finally learning to live with my terror? Or was it something about Boone that made it possible to be around him and not be constantly aware of his much larger size and capacity for violence?

  I wasn’t sure, but it was a puzzle I wanted to solve.

  I watched him a moment later, admiring the angles of his jaw and the soft swelling of his bottom lip. I still remembered the taste of his kiss like it was just yesterday that we’d shared them. A part of me quivered at the idea of doing it again. I’d never felt anything like that before.

  I padded out into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, reaching into the fridge for a bowl of fresh fruit. I was supposed to be at the Matthews’ in a little over an hour. I was with McKelty again today unless she’d lodged a complaint with Jules. But since I hadn’t heard anything, she probably hadn’t or it’d fallen on deaf ears.

  “Morning,” Boone said as he sauntered into the kitchen, his voice husky and slurred with sleep.

  “Why were you in my bedroom?”

  His head rose, surprise registering in his eyes. “You had a nightmare.”

  I didn’t recall that. But I had so many I almost rarely remembered them. “I woke you?”

  He shrugged, helping himself to the half made pot
of coffee. “It wasn’t a big deal. I spoke to you for a moment and you settled right back down.”

  “I did.”

  “You did. I stayed in case you had another nightmare. I didn’t intend to fall asleep, I apologize.”

  “I didn’t intend to let you stay last night, so I guess we’re even.”

  “I appreciate your hospitality. I realize it’s difficult for you to share your safe space.”

  His words sounded almost clinical. I paused with a grape halfway to my mouth, watching him with new curiosity and slight suspicion.

  “Why did you say it like that?”

  “What?”

  “My ‘safe space.’”

  He shrugged. “Isn’t that what it is?”

  He was right. That was what Dr. Paine called it back when I was under her care four days a week. She instructed me to find a safe place where I could let my guard down and feel almost normal again. I’d laughed at her because I didn’t believe there was such a thing as a safe place for me. But I found a way to create security in my surroundings. It was difficult, especially the first few years in the Navy, but I did it.

  But where had he heard that term?

  “We need to talk about what we’re going to do about the Matthews.”

  My thought process broken, I inclined my head, popping the grape into my mouth and following it up with a couple slices of strawberries. I sighed as the sweetness engulfed my taste buds, closing my eyes for a second to enjoy this small pleasure. That was another thing Dr. Paine had taught me: to take pleasure in the small things.

  “Joss is due back in a few days. She’ll be alert to any changes in the household or in our treatment of her family.”

  “Then we’ll have to make sure she doesn’t notice anything.”

  “How do I do that?”

  He shook his head, hiding his full lips behind his coffee mug as he drew in the heavy aroma. He seemed to be enjoying the small pleasures, too.

  “Someone is after her family. They hired you to get close to someone close to her. What’s the next step?”

  “I don’t know. I assume they want information.”

  “Has anyone contacted you?”

  “Only Elizabeth. I don’t know who she reports to.”

  “And when they get the information they want?”

  He sipped the coffee, sighing as though it was the best thing he’d tasted in months. “I don’t know, Erin. They didn’t exactly sit me down and tell me their entire plan.”

  I set the fruit on the counter and poured myself a cup of coffee. After a couple sips, I turned to him.

  “We feed them false information.”

  “Like?”

  “I don’t know. Tell them Carrington’s going to be somewhere he isn’t. Then we stake the place out, see if someone shows up to verify.”

  “What do I tell them when he never shows up?”

  “Tell them he changed his plans at the last minute.” I sipped at the coffee again. “But by then we’ll have an idea of who’s after him and what they really want.”

  Boone thought about that for a minute. “And if they realize that I’m feeding them false information and that I’m playing them?”

  “You’re working with Gray Wolf Security. We’re one of the best security firms in the country. I’ll protect you.”

  He snorted, his eyes moving over me. “That’s reassuring.”

  “You don’t think I can protect you?”

  “You couldn’t even get me out of your house yesterday. How are you going to keep a rogue group of mobsters from destroying my life?”

  “There’s more to providing security than brute force. I have Elizabeth’s name now. I can figure out who she’s working for and get the information they have on you. I can keep them from hurting you.”

  His eyes softened as he studied me. “You’d do that?”

  I shrugged. “You were supposed to trick me and even possibly hurt me, but you’re helping me instead. It’s the least I could do.” I pushed away from the counter and headed for the door. “You should plan on staying here until everything is said and done. I want to be able to keep tabs on you.”

  “You want me to stay here?”

  “This showing up whenever it’s convenient for you doesn’t work for me. Besides, I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are.”

  “I get that. I’m just…are you sure you want me here?”

  There was something about the way he said it. This sinking feeling rushed through my chest. I took a deep breath.

  “Was that you at the mall yesterday?”

  “The mall?”

  “You know about me. You know what happened to me.”

  Guilt darkened his eyes. “Elizabeth showed me articles. Pictures.”

  I felt the color drain from my face. “Pictures? Only the police…”

  “I’m sorry, Erin. I didn’t know what she was going to show me. I thought it was just information.”

  “I didn’t know that stuff was still out there.”

  “If you have enough money and the right contacts, you can get anything.”

  I nodded, feeling a little sick to my stomach at the idea of him seeing what those men did to me. I couldn’t even look at him.

  “It’s not your fault,” he said quietly. “What happened. Those men…they’re sick bastards.” There was anger so fierce in his voice that it shook. “Just like the monsters who did the same thing to my sister.”

  I looked up sharply. “What did you say?”

  He blinked and looked away, tension radiating from his entire body. “You were, what, fifteen?”

  I nodded.

  “Annie was thirteen. She went to a party thrown by some football players at the local high school. You know how girls that age are. Well these sons of bitches thought it would be really funny to get her drunk and rape her. But it wasn’t enough for them to just rape her. They had to take pictures and print them out, passing them around the school. She didn’t even go to that school yet, couldn’t even try to defend herself.” He shook his head, his voice shaking again. His whole body was shaking. “My father quit his job and moved us to another state, but the damage was already done. Annie couldn’t live with what they’d done.”

  Pain flashed across his face. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to keep my emotions in check.

  “How long did she live with it for?”

  “Five years.”

  That explained a lot. It explained how he knew about the safe place, how he knew to soothe my nightmare without waking me. It explained even the gentleness of his touch, the hesitation I’d noted in him when we were in the back of the taxi, when he kissed me with a gentleness that set my fears to rest.

  I dragged my fingers through my hair, thinking of some of the girls in the support group Dr. Paine had encouraged me to go to. All had suffered sexual assault, but few had been repeatedly and horrifically abused the way I had. The one whose experience had come closest to mine, a girl raped at a frat party by two of the fraternity brothers, wouldn’t speak or participate. She was in a near catatonic state. Until the day she took her own life, that is.

  I’d thought about it a lot back then. It was only the guilt of leaving my mom alone that stopped me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His eyes moved slowly over me in a way that didn’t feel sexual. It felt…it felt almost as if he admired me. I almost wished it was sexual.

  “I’m sorry for what happened to her, sorry I couldn’t help her get through it.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, his eyes still moving over the length of me. “Wish I’d been there that night to protect her.”

  “I had a friend who was supposed to pick me up that night. She was late because her parents didn’t go to bed at their normal time for some reason. She apologized to me afterward and I could see how it was tearing her apart, the guilt she felt. At the time, I couldn’t offer her any solace. I was lost.” I bit my cheek again, the memory pushing down on me like a physical weight. “It ch
anged her. But nothing she could have done would have changed what happened that night. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else. Maybe even her.” I tilted my head slightly. “If it hadn’t been your sister, it would have been someone else.”

  “Let it be someone else. Maybe then Annie would still be alive. Maybe she’d be a mother and a wife…maybe my life would be different.”

  I shook my head. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do mean that!” The anger was back. “She was the kindest person I’d ever known. She didn’t deserve that!”

  “No one deserves that.”

  Horror slid across his face. “Erin, I didn’t—”

  “No, it’s okay. I get it. I’m sure my mom feels the same way.”

  “How do you do it?” he asked after a moment’s hesitation, his eyes still sliding over me like he’d never seen me before. “How did you survive?”

  Again memories came to sit heavy on my shoulders. “I don’t know,” I said slowly. “It wasn’t easy. The nightmares were…I still have trouble sleeping. I can’t look at myself in a mirror, can’t go somewhere new without checking it out thoroughly on Google Maps and going over the security. I can’t join a gym, make friends, go shopping at the mall without feeling paranoid.” I shook my head. “But I was top of my class in weapons training, I know every self-defense move ever created. I own an arsenal of handguns and stun guns and pepper spray. I’m confident that I can protect myself if need be.”

  He tilted his head slightly and I knew he was thinking about my attack on him the night before.

  “I went easy on you because I recognized you.”

  He smiled, a crooked smile that I was sure he’d often used on the women he seduced into sharing their wealth with him. I could see how they fell for it.

  I wanted to fall for it.

  I studied him now in the open, curious way he’d been studying me. My body responded to the sight of him as it had this morning and as it had that day in the back of the cab. It was a tightness deep inside, a rush down the length of my spine. I found myself staring at his hands, at the memory of those hands on my face, my thighs. They were large hands, his palms wide and his fingers long. Strangely strong and delicate all at the same time. And I wanted to touch them, to feel their warmth and strength in my hand, on my body.

 

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