A stealthy whisper woke him up. Jake had barely closed his eyes, having lain awake thinking about too many things for far too long. Dawn had yet to lighten the curtains. At first, he thought he’d imagined the snick of a lock being coaxed open. Then a breeze snuck into the room, warm and soft.

Followed by a quiet footfall and the snap of a switchblade. Jake barely had time to register that his Sig was sitting on his nightstand in his room next door before a shadow bent over Charlie’s side of the bed.

He didn’t know who was more surprised when he lifted his head, Timor or himself. But he damn well knew who reacted first. Jake launched himself at the smaller man without a sound, leaping over Charlie’s sleeping form. His shoulder struck a hard midsection as they both went down with a crash.

“You fucker,” Timor swore, hitting the hardwood floor hard. The thug managed to hold on to his knife. He swung the blade at Jake’s face, slashing his forearm instead when Jake threw it up to protect his eyes. The burn was immediate but bearable. Jake threw a punch with his other hand, catching Darnell’s goon upside the head.

With another curse, Timor scrambled back like a spider, the blade winking between his dark fingers. He tore at the curtains, pulling himself upright with one hand, revealing the pink light of dawn breaking over the city.

Jake stood in a half crouch, keeping himself between the man and the bed. Timor’s dark eyes flicked from Jake to where Charlie had sat up in the bed, her mouth half-open, her hair sticking straight up. “Hey, little piggy. I like the dye job. Can’t wait to stick you.” His smile was evil. “And maybe not just with this knife.” His eyes returned to Jake. “Think she’ll squeal like your mom did?”

Jake went still. His mind spun Timor’s words over and over in his head as he stared across the room, his heart pounding in his chest. Timor had to be in his mid to late forties. If he had been there the day their mother died, he’d have been young. Very young. But it was possible.

“Charlie, get the fuck out of here. Now.”

His quiet, steely words seemed to snap her out of her daze. She glared at him and then immediately ignored his command to leap for the phone. At the same time, Timor spun and ran out onto the balcony. Silently, Jake followed.

Had that fucker been there that day or was this another of Darnell’s ploys? He couldn’t remember seeing Timor from the kitchen window. Of course, he hadn’t really gotten a good look at any of the men who had hurt his mother. Only Darnell stood out in his mind. The rest were vague shadows.

It could be true.

Had Timor been planning on raping Charlie while Jake slept next door? He ground his teeth together, barely feeling the warm blood trickling down his wrist.

Head down, shoulders tight, he stalked out into the warm delta sunrise. Timor was still scrambling down the side of the building. He hit the sidewalk seconds later, triumphantly holding up the bloody knife. “I marked you, and soon I’ll mark her, too.”

Timor laughed, sure he was home free, but the sound turned to a strangled gurgle when Jake took two running steps and vaulted off the balcony.

It was a good twelve-foot free fall, but he’d managed farther drops before. For Jake, parkour had always been more than a cool pastime to impress his friends. He’d started as a preteen. Not for fun—for the conditioning. He’d kept it up over the years. The skill had come in handy on more than one job.

Of course, he hadn’t been barefoot for any of those jobs.

The landing stung, but he was prepared for that, rolling up to the balls of his feet and then over into a forward roll onto the sidewalk. Timor was already running, vanishing around the corner.

Jake tore off after him, ignoring the trail of blood he left in his wake.

---

An hour later, Charlie was pacing a rut in the gallery floor, watching the police question a grim-looking Jake. He was still wearing nothing but boxers and a neat, new roll of bandages, this time winding from wrist to elbow, stark white against his darkly tanned skin.

She ran her hand through her hair for the dozenth time. It had scared her, waking up to see Jake grappling with Hatchet Face. And it had terrified her when Jake had gone after him, leaving her all alone. “What was he thinking?” she muttered yet again.

Next to her, Stacia let out a noisy sigh. “I imagine he was thinking of tearing out the throat of the man who broke into your room.”

Her face was tight as she watched her brother, her blue-gray eyes narrowed to smoky slits. They flicked back to Charlie’s pale face in the ensuing silence.

“Did you think Jake was some gentleman thief, like your Thomas Crown?” Stacia hissed. “Somebody who looks hot, dresses well and doesn’t get his hands dirty. Is that it?”

Charlie swallowed. Stacia closed her eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“My brother is a dangerous man, Charlie.” Her voice had gentled. “Don’t ever forget that. He ran with the gangs in Sydney from the time he was eleven years old. He may look and act like a charming, harmless rogue, but that’s all it is, an act. My brother’s got demons you never want to meet.”

“He’s never killed anyone before?” she whispered.

Stacia frowned. “No. At least I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I’d know, whether he told me or not,” she mused, her voice drifting away before it sharpened. “But I can tell you right now, he’s more than capable of it. Timor is lucky he got away, because if my brother had caught him, there’d be no need for a manhunt. Just a body bag and the coroner.”

She swallowed. The cops had left Jake and were crossing the room toward them.

“Remember what I told you,” Stacia said, her voice very low.

She remembered. She’d called 911 and Stacia, in that order, but Stacia had beaten the cops to her room. You don’t know the guy. Never got a good look at him, but you’re pretty sure you’ve never seen him before. This is important, Charlie. Please. If you want to help Jake, you won’t say anything else.

And so she’d lied. To the cops.

But now she knew Hatchet Face’s real name—Timor. Stacia was more shaken than she appeared, to have let that slip.

The sunlight winked off the badge of the officer nearest them.

Goddamn it. She wasn’t sure she could manage to keep up the story, now that the shock was wearing off.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to. The cop and his partner didn’t have any more questions, only warm reassurance. Her skittish behavior made them more solicitous, with that genuine Southern charm that made her feel guiltier for her deception. Probably a thief your boyfriend startled. No need to worry, ma’am, but we’ll get the word out.

Likely a random attack.

But she knew better. She’d seen the way Timor had looked at her, backing against the window, snarling. She’d heard the words he’d spoken to Jake. No, it was all very, very personal.

Her head was throbbing before they finally left. Jake padded over and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her tight to his bare chest.

She clung to him, in a way she hadn’t clung to anyone in years, seeking his warmth and strength just like she had last night.

“I don’t get it, why would he come after me? I’m not a part of all this.”

She looked up when he didn’t answer. Jake’s lips were pressed together so hard they had gone white. He was struggling with something, wrestling with those demons his sister had mentioned earlier, no doubt.

“I’m not sure,” he said finally.

Her bullshit detector went off. That wasn’t true. Jake knew why Timor had come after her. She gave him a look.

He sighed, then leaned over, his lips close to her ear. “But I’ll find out, Charlie.” He squeezed her one more time before letting go. “Take a long shower and then come meet Stacia and I for brunch.”

Her nose twitched. Jake still sounded off and there was something in his expression as he looked at his sister that she didn’t like. Charlie opened her mouth…then shut it again. She’d trusted Jake with part of her soul last night.

She could give him an hour or two.

---

Jake didn’t have very much time, but he had to make sure of something first. He watched Charlie walk away, resisting the urge to snatch her back, to ensure by any means necessary that she stayed safe. Even if that meant chaining her bodily to his side.

But it was too late.

She’d never be safe again, thanks to him. For the first time since that night in Minneapolis, he wished he’d chosen another window, that he’d never laid eyes on Charlotte Gracen.

Because he’d put her in the crosshairs of a man capable of anything. Whether Darnell had figured out Charlie was important to him or was just pissed that she’d managed to save him, Jake had no idea. And it didn’t matter because Timor finding them in bed together—regardless of the innocent circumstances—was going to get back to the arsehole. If Darnell had wanted her before, he’d be doubly interested now.

His hands ached and Jake looked down, unaware he’d been clenching them tightly since Charlie had left the room. With a curse, he rolled his shoulders and shook them loose. He had to act and he was pretty sure of his first step. There was just one thing he had to run by Stace first.

Both of them had been so young that horrible day when Darnell came, even younger than Charlie had been when her sister was taken. Last night he had told Charlie the truth about the way dreams twisted the past into pieces to try and make things fit together. For years, Stacia had suffered from god-awful nightmares, waking in a cold sweat, screaming for their mother. Nothing had helped. He’d been as helpless to protect her as he’d been his mother. Jake swallowed as he met his twin’s eyes from across the room. She frowned, tilting her head before walking toward him.

He did know that Stacia had seen the men from their bedroom window and instinctively hid, just like Charlie had. But that was all Jake knew. They’d gone over his memories exhaustively, obsessively, but never hers. As strong as Stacia appeared to be, he knew better. Facing her own memories of that day was not something his sister had been capable of.

Then. He had to hope things had changed, because he was about to push her back to that day. He had no choice, not after what Timor had said.

Or what Jake had seen before he’d gotten away.

As soon as Stacia was in earshot, Jake opened his mouth, but his twin spoke before he could.

“You going to tell me why in the hell you were in Charlie’s room last night?”

Shit. “It wasn’t what you think.”

She rolled her eyes, giving a weary sigh. “Wasn’t it?”

“No. She had a nightmare. I heard her crying through the wall.”

Stacia stiffened. In her eyes, he saw the questions she wouldn’t ask.

Jake scrubbed a hand over his jaw. His adrenaline was fading, exhaustion setting in. He still wasn’t at a hundred percent and this shit wasn’t helping. “It was bad. Her sister.”

“Do I even want to know?” she whispered.

“No.”

She nodded slowly, another question in her eyes. “Did you . . .”

“Tell her about Mum? Yeah, I did.”

Her eyes widened. “We don’t do that.”

“You told Lucjan.” Even to his own ears, Jake sounded defensive.

Her lips pressed together, Stacia studied him. “Are you saying you feel about Charlie the way I feel… felt about him?”

“I’m not saying anything.” Impatiently, Jake dismissed her question with a wave of his hand, before touching his twin’s shoulder. “Do you still have nightmares about the day Mum died?”

She blinked up at him, obviously confused and a bit flustered. “No. Never. Not since Lucjan . . .” She swallowed hard, bright spots of color in her cheeks. “Why?”

“I was wondering,” he said, holding her gaze, “if you could tell me exactly what you saw that day?”

Her slender shoulders tightened and Jake winced, feeling like a rat bastard. But it was time. Past fucking time.

Stacia must have agreed, because she only hesitated a moment. “I was playing, in our room. Playing with my doll, Brittany.” She gave him a small smile. “You always teased me about her, so I was happy you were helping Mum with the cookies. She’d just made Brittany a new dress.” Her eyes closed. “Blue velvet. I loved velvet. Mum had that one skirt, remember?”

“The gold one.” He nodded, his own throat tight. “Yeah, I remember.”

She sighed without opening her eyes. “I was giggling, fastening up the little hooks in the back of Brittany’s dress when a shadow fell over the window.” Her face grew paler, more pinched and Jake had to resist the urge to pull her into his arms, to tell her to stop. “I never heard the Rovers, I think the genny was too loud.”

Their room had been by their father’s shop, and John always ran the genny most of the day when he was working. His sister’s voice changed, going higher, more childlike. Did she even realize it? Shivers slid down the backs of his arms. He could almost see their old room through her eyes. The blue curtains waving in the breeze . . .

“Someone was outside. I thought maybe you were teasing me, so I crawled up on the window seat and peeked under the curtain. That’s when I saw him.”

“Saw who, Stacia?”

“A dark man. He was thin and tall.” She shivered. “I was scared because he had a gun. That’s when I went to hide under Mum and Dad’s bed.”

“Could it have been Timor?”

She blinked, coming out of her daze. “Timor? Why . . .” As her voice trailed off, her eyes got hazy again. “I’m not sure. Maybe. I think…maybe.”

Jake went still as Stacia gaped at him, thinking things through, trying not to let emotion get the best of him, but it was impossible.

His stomach twisted as he dropped his gaze to Stacia’s narrowing one. “What is going on, Jake?”

“Take care of her while I’m gone.”

“Gone?”

But he was already out the door.

---

Less than an hour later, the breakfast room of the hotel was bright, full of good smells and pleasant voices. Well, except for Stacia’s. She’d barely spoken a word since Charlie had walked in. Stacia looked uncommonly rattled, far more so than she had been earlier around the cops. When Charlie asked her if she was okay, Stacia’s response was so thick Charlie could scarcely understand her.

“Are you coming down with something? You sound like a blues singer after a hard night of whiskey and cigarettes.”

Stacia cleared her throat. “Must have been all the schmoozing last night on top of all the bullshit this morning. I’ll be fine.”

She frowned but accepted her mimosa from the smiling waiter. “Speaking of all that ‘bullshit,’ where is Jake? He promised we would talk about it.”

Stacia turned away, her chic black sunglasses flashing in the strong Louisiana sunshine. “He’s gone, Charlie. He flew back to Europe this morning. I don’t think we’ll be seeing him for a while.”

Charlie’s champagne glass fell to the floor, but she barely heard the tinkle of breaking glass over the laughter in her head. Stupid girl.

Stupid, stupid girl.