Three years and four months later

Hunter

My footsteps were soundless against the thick carpet as I headed up the darkened stairs. I didn’t need a flashlight; the moon was doing a decent job through the skylight.

The Upper East Side townhouse had that smell. A smell that, to me, screamed money and privilege, not something I could describe easily. The word sterile rattled around my skull. Furniture polish. Floor cleaner. Whatever other shit they had their cleaning staff use to wash away any traces of personality. Anything real.

It hung heavy in the air. Lifted the damn hair at the back of my neck.

I despised the types of people that lived like this. Firsthand experience had taught me they couldn’t be trusted. That they’d stab you in the back as soon as you looked the other way.

And in this guy’s case, commit insurance fraud rather than admit they were living beyond their means.

I did a walkthrough and a quick search of the bedrooms before I headed to the office. I found the safe quickly, in a closet on the far side of the room, hidden under a stack of boxes. I’d been cracking safes since I was fourteen. Raul Esposito, a man who had become a second father to my older brother Van and me when our own had been a drunk and an asshole, had trained me well.

I’d picked up the skill so fast, I’d actually impressed the old bastard. The pride I’d felt when I did it on my own for the first time was something I’d never forgotten. Some people would think it was messed up that the only decent male role model I’d had taught me how to be a good thief, but I didn’t give a fuck. I owed Raul more than I could ever repay.

I crouched low, getting a good look at the safe. Getting into it wouldn’t be overly difficult. But before I pulled out my stethoscope, I entered several try-out combinations. Combinations that most new safes came with from the manufacturer. A lot of people never bothered to set a new one themselves, and that was always what I started with. None of them worked, so I searched around it. Another common mistake, writing the code down and keeping it close by. No luck there either. I went back into the office and searched the desk.

“Jesus.”

Shoved to the back of the bottom drawer, under a stack of Playboys, was a notebook. The fucking moron had actually written “passwords” on the front. I found the code I needed, then checked the time. There was still ten minutes on the clock.

I had the safe open in five seconds.

Empty. I had another flick through the notebook, just in case they had more than one safe. Nothing. It was a long shot, but this guy was obviously a total idiot. Definitely dumb enough to keep the painting at his own house.

I was heading for the door when a photo sitting on a bookshelf caught my eye.

My legs just fucking—stopped. Like a nail had been driven though the tops of both my feet mid-step, pinning me to the goddamn floor.

It was a family photo.

A Carson family photo.

I looked around the room again, almost giving myself goddamn whiplash, confused as hell.

Where the hell had my brother sent me? Anger flared to life, growing steadily, pumping through me.

Jesus fucking Christ.

One of those assholes lived here?

My eyes were drawn back to the picture, like someone else had control over them. Fuck, I couldn’t look away, heart hammering in my chest.

Standing there, big smiles on their faces were Elizabeth and Pierce. Lulu’s mother and stepfather. Alongside them her aunt and uncle and their kids.

A rough sound rasped up my throat, past my lips. Lulu. She was a little ways off to the side, on her own. She looked about sixteen here. She’d been a couple years older when I first met her, but her hair was the same—down and a little wild. Her gray eyes were aimed at the camera, and they sliced right fucking through me. I wasn’t prepared to see her face, hadn’t had a chance to sure up my defenses.

Something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a long time, hammered me from behind. I hadn’t seen her, not even a picture, not since she came to see me in prison.

And there she was. Tormenting me. Mocking me.

I picked it up, stared into her traitorous eyes. But the fury I’d lived off like fucking oxygen the last three years wouldn’t come, because this wasn’t the Lulu that tore me to shreds. She was a kid here, a kid who looked a little lost, and a whole fucking lot lonely.

The urge to fire it across the room nearly got the better of me.

I quickly put it down and got the hell out of there, before I did something stupid.

Jude was coming up the stairs when I hit the hall. Jude Wayland, ex-cop, and at six-foot-five, two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle, not someone you wanted to get on the wrong side of. He still had good reliable contacts on the force, not to mention his expertise with security systems—namely how to shut them down. Add to that his size and ability to be intimidating as hell, he’d become our go-to guy when someone needed to be leaned on. Persuasion was one of his specialties.

“Company.” He tilted his head to the front of the house.

We jogged down the stairs and I moved to the French doors off the living room, while Jude did his thing, reactivating the security system. We were shutting the doors behind us as the front door opened.

I turned to Jude when we were outside, fighting the rage pounding through me. “Who lives here?”

Jude rubbed the back of his neck, looking guilty as hell, and then tilted his head toward the living room window.

We’d walked out the door two minutes ago and already there was a woman bent over the back of the couch, pants yanked down around her thighs, while some guy, not her husband, fucked her from behind like he was in the throes of a fit.

I recognized her instantly.

Lulu’s aunt.

Jude shook his head, a look of disgust on his face and held up his hands. “You need to talk to Van. I’m staying outta this shit. I fucking told him this was a bad idea.” Then he turned around and walked off.

I’d be talking to my brother all right.

Twenty minutes later I was back in Queens, striding across the underground parking lot toward the elevator that would take me up to our offices.

Van and I opened the King Agency before I went to prison. We started off doing personal protection and security, private investigation, mainly corporate, but some domestic as well, then moved onto high-risk fugitive recovery and missing person and kidnapping investigations. Coming from a rough neighborhood, living on the streets most of the time, you acquired certain skills to get by, to survive. Turned out that was better than any college education in our line of work. Clients started coming to us with jobs that other agencies refused to take them, either because they were too dangerous or crossed lines they weren’t willing to cross. We’d never had that problem. Higher risk meant higher pay. We were good at what we did, the best, which was why getting taken down for arson when shit was finally looking up for the King brothers had fucking near torn me apart. Being set up was bad enough, but being forced to put my life on hold damn near did me in.

Ironic that the same woman that drove me to succeed, the woman I loved, the woman I believed loved me too, was the one that took it all away. I’d wanted to prove that I could provide for her, that I could give her everything she was used to. A big house. Money in the bank. A nice life. The agency was the first thing that had truly been mine. I’d been so fucking proud of it, wanted her to be proud of me. Coming from a home where I was constantly told I was nothing, that I was worthless, I’d needed that.

Finding out tonight my own fucking brother was keeping something from me, something that involved her family, the same family responsible for setting me up, getting me locked up . . . yeah, I was pretty un-fucking-happy.

I climbed into the elevator and punched the button for the fifth floor, trying to lock down the anger riding me hard. I got a look at myself in the mirrored doors as they slid shut—it wasn’t working.

When they opened again I was outside our glass-fronted reception area, three and a half inches thick and bullet proof—something that hadn’t been tested yet, but the way I was feeling right then finding out how many rounds it would take sounded like an excellent way to blow off steam.

I pushed the door open, and strode into the stark white reception area, not surprised to see Ruby sitting behind the desk.

Ruby Styles was from our neighborhood, and a few years younger than me. Her home life had been about as fun as mine and Van’s. And when she’d come to us for a job, we’d decided to give her a shot in reception.

She lifted her head, tucking her purple streaked hair behind her ear, and shoved her black-rimmed glasses higher on her nose. Her eyes widened when she got a good look at me.

“Is he in his office?”

She shot to her feet. “What’s going on . . . ?”

I headed for the door that led to our offices, ignoring her calling after me, anger unfurling in my gut, and punched in the access code.

Shoving it open, I strode down the hall. Van’s door wasn’t closed, and I could hear several voices coming from inside. I rounded the corner and my jaw got tight. Zeke and Neco were there along with my brother, deep in conversation.

“Something you forget to tell me about tonight’s job?” I asked.

Van’s gaze shot to me. “Hunt, let me explain . . .”

“Yeah, that’d be good.”

Zeke’s eyes slid my way, giving nothing away. The Texan was at his usual spot, propped against the wall, tattooed arms crossed. Zeke Stanton was an ex-Navy SEAL, a sniper in a previous life—a life he chose not to talk about, ever. We’d all known each other since high school. Him and Van had enlisted together, been in the same unit. But Van had opted out before Zeke, left that part of his life behind before it marked him in a way his friend hadn’t been lucky enough to escape.

Zeke only talked when he had to, did not waste time on pointless conversation. He also had a stillness, an intensity about him that was perfect for surveillance. The guy could move around unseen any-damn-where like no one else.

But while Zeke kept his distance, Neco closed in.

Not only was Neco Malik our best tracker, he had skills with a computer that were second to none. He was an exceptional hacker, could get into anything, could override any security system with the click of a few buttons. He was an integral member of the team, and one of my best friends. We’d run together when we were kids. He had it rough growing up, a half black kid in a mainly white neighborhood. Having a mother who sold herself to pay the rent, and a father who he had never met, meant life had been far from easy. As a result, he’d grown into one mean, angry motherfucker.

The guy was like a brother to me, but right then, I needed him to back the fuck off.

Neco shook his head. “Just hear him out.”

“Before you pop a fucking artery,” Jude added, walking in behind me, voice nothing but a deep rumble.

I ignored them all and waited for Van to start talking.

My brother blew out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I needed you to get into that safe, and I needed you doing it with a clear head.”

I curled my fingers into fists, knuckles cracking. Van could be a ruthless son of a bitch at times, but this was extreme even for him. “Keep talking,” I gritted out.

A muscle in his square jaw jumped. “I didn’t want to send you in. If there’d been any other way . . .” He crossed his arms, getting that stubborn look on his damn face. “You were the only one who could do what we needed in the time we had.”

Union City Insurance had called us a few days ago, after they’d received a claim on a painting. The painting I’d been looking for tonight. If it weren’t found, Union would be down three million. They wanted to avoid that.

This was the part of our business we didn’t advertise. Illegal in every way it could be, unethical as all hell. But it paid well, and with our unique talents, our success rate was extremely high. Put simply, Union City wanted the painting found. They didn’t want to pay out the money it was insured for, and they didn’t care how the King Agency made sure the job got done. As long as the painting was returned to its owner, they were off the hook.

A lot of insurance companies felt the same way. If the claim was fraudulent, their client sure as hell couldn’t accuse anyone of breaking into their houses and stealing it out from under them if it was already supposed to be missing. They definitely couldn’t say anything when their insurance company called and returned their items with a smile and a “Hey, look what showed up.”

Paying our fee, a fraction of what Union City would have to pay out if the painting wasn’t found, was worth it to them. The guys at our agency either confirmed it was insurance fraud, or tracked down the stolen item and stole it back.

Which was what I’d been trying to do tonight, only it turned out a few vital details had been omitted.

I stepped up to my brother’s desk and planted my fists on the surface. “I’m out of patience.”

Van cursed quietly. “Robert Carson is the claimant.”

A chill slid down my spine before it turned to steel. I had to plant my feet so I didn’t dive across his desk and beat the shit out of him. “You don’t see any problem, sending me on a job involving that family, without telling me?” No one in the room missed the quite fury in my voice. Even Zeke stood straighter.

Van casually undid the cuffs of his dress shirt and rolled up his sleeves, eyes never leaving mine. “We think Pierce is behind it.”

My nostrils flared as I sucked in a rough breath at the mention of Pierce, Lulu’s stepfather—and my ex-employer. I’d worked for him for a couple of years on and off while we were getting this place off the ground. Mainly debt collection, but occasionally I provided muscle for the prick, as one of his personal bodyguards. I’d met Lulu shortly after I started.

And I’d wished every day for the last three and a half years that I’d never laid eyes on her.

I choked down the rage. I had no damn choice. If I lost it, they’d close ranks. It’s what they expected me to do, why they hadn’t shared the details of the case.

I clenched my fists at my sides. “And the rest?”

My brother watched me closely, gaze darting to Neco before he spoke. I felt my friend move in closer.

“It was Robert that called in the claim, but the painting was taken from Pierce’s home,” Van said.

“How can Robert claim it if it’s not his?”

Van’s shoulders relaxed a fraction when he realized I wasn’t about to throw down in the middle of his office, and kept talking. “Pierce made sure Robert co-signed every insurance policy . . . every fucking thing he owns. Which isn’t a whole lot, as it happens. Most of it’s tied up in family trusts, belongs to his wife Elizabeth’s family. Their homes were never theirs to begin with. Anyway, we both know Robert’s weak, follows Pierce’s lead like a goddamn puppy, would do anything for his brother, including insurance fraud.”

As much as it pissed me the fuck off, I got it, the secrecy. I understood my brother’s concerns. Anything to do with Lulu’s stepfather was a hot button for me, to put it mildly.

But he’d purposely kept this from me, and even though I understood his reasons, there was no way in hell I was sitting this one out. I couldn’t just do my job, find the painting, and forget the rest.

I crossed my arms. “Pierce has to be pulling the strings.” The guy had gone underground in recent weeks. I didn’t know why yet, but anything that might lead me to him, I was all in. “Selling privately, plus the insurance payout, would set him up nicely.”

Van dipped his chin. “Exactly.”

I had to find that painting. I didn’t know why Pierce needed the money, but I wasn’t letting that asshole get his hands on it. And I sure as hell wasn’t missing the chance to get my hands on the son of a bitch either.

Pierce needing fast money meant he was in deep shit, plain and simple. He’d either vanish, go deeper underground, or use the cash to scrape himself out of trouble. None of those options were acceptable. That fucker was well overdue payback, and any way I could make his life harder—or, better yet, draw him out—was a win for me.

“I’m in.” I locked eyes with my brother. “And if you ever keep shit like this from me again, or send me into a situation like that without all the facts, we’ll have a serious fucking problem.”

Van dipped his chin, jaw still hard.

I walked out of his office a short time later, taking the stairs to the lower level. There were several rooms down there: the surveillance room, gym, Neco’s office where he kept all his tech shit, and a bunk room that was occasionally used as a holding cell. I let myself into my friend’s office.

Neco walked in right after me, and leaned against his desk. “I wasn’t happy about keeping that shit from you.”

“You of all people should know how I’d feel about being kept in the dark. Especially when it comes to that family.”

Neco rubbed the back of his neck, not holding my gaze, looking cagey as fuck.

“What didn’t Van tell me?” I didn’t want to fight Neco. He was my brother in every way but blood, but I was this close to losing it.

“Hunt, man, you need to take a step back from this.”

I just stared at him.

The guy cursed. “Yeah, I have something. Shit. Not Pierce. Not directly, but someone else who might be able to get us the info we need. Maybe clue us in to where he’s been hiding out.”

Neco gave me a long, meaningful look, and something knotted unbearably tight in my gut. My friend shook his head, planted his hands on his hips. “I give you this, you don’t do anything fucking stupid. You go rogue, Van will lose his shit, and I’ll have to go after you and drag your ass home.”

I refused to make promises I couldn’t keep. “Will this info help us find Pierce, the painting?”

“Maybe.”

“Then give it to me.”

“Fuck.” Neco ran a hand over his cropped hair. “Pierce’s wife, Elizabeth. She’s been sick a long time, years. The family found out recently she doesn’t have much time. A matter of weeks. Cancer.” The guy held my gaze. “Pierce isn’t gonna risk his neck going to her, he’s gone into hiding for a reason. The guy’s running scared. Plus, that bastard’s ice cold . . . but she’s another story.”

She. No one said Lulu’s name in front of me anymore. They knew better.

I knew Lulu’s mom had been sick for a long time. And he was right, on both counts. Pierce wasn’t showing, not even for his sick wife, but Lulu? She’d been close to her mother. Really close.

Neco rested his hands on the desk. “She might know something. Might be able to give you the information you want, lead you to him. Might not. Elizabeth’s going home in a few days. Pierce arranged nurses to take care of her several weeks ago. Don’t know if that’s still happening with him lying low—I doubt it. Either way, she only has a small window if she plans to get to her mother undetected.”

I didn’t doubt Lulu knew where Pierce was holed up. Her and her stepfather had been tight. That’s how I first met her—Pierce had taken Lulu everywhere with him. And I mean everywhere. I’d assumed he was grooming her for the family business. While we were together, she’d never shared that part of her life and I’d never pushed. More than likely because there was always this niggling feeling in my gut that she was hiding something from me. I didn’t want to see it, afraid whatever she wasn’t telling me would take her away from me. Turned out I should have paid more attention to my gut. I glanced over at Neco. The guy looked worried. He had good reason to be. Getting her to tell me where Pierce was hiding wasn’t all I wanted from her, and Neco knew it. Knew what was eating at me. I’d planned to take down Pierce first then go after Lulu. This way, I could kill two birds with one stone.

I should stay the hell away from her, but I couldn’t, not until I looked her in the eyes and she told me the truth, that everything we’d had was a goddamn lie, all of it. Then maybe I could finally get her out of my head. “Where’s her mother?”

“Let me come with you.”

“No.”

Neco watched me, like he was trying to read my mind. Finally, he shook his head, jotted down what I needed and handed it over. “Don’t know about this . . .”

I took the piece of paper and walked out the door. Neco called after me, but I ignored him, heading straight for the supply room. Grabbing a bag, I loaded up with what I needed, and then I was striding through reception. Lulu had taken off after I’d been locked up, hiding out so Van couldn’t drag her ass back in and make her tell the fucking truth. That she’d been with me when the fire started, that I’d been nowhere near that building when it was torched, that she’d fucking lied for Pierce and set me up. But my brother had failed to find her. Even Neco hadn’t been able to track her. How fucking hard was it to find one woman?

Now I had my chance. I knew her well enough to know she’d risk coming back to see her mother, and I’d be waiting when she did.

I was at the elevator when Van called my name. “Don’t do this. Just . . . leave it.”

Neco had a big fucking mouth. I shook my head and turned to face my brother. “Can’t do that.”

“We don’t need her for this job and you know it. What could she possibly say to change what happened? What’s done is done. Nothing can get those years back.” His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “We’ll get Pierce. But this has to be a long game.”

“You’re telling me you could leave it? Just forgive, forget?” A throb started at my temples.

Van shook his head. “She doesn’t want to be found. I think it’s better for everyone if you keep it that way.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“When it comes to Lulu, you don’t think straight. You don’t act smart.”

Hearing Van say her name out loud scored a direct hit. The rest of it made me want to punch something. Preferably my brother’s face. I hit the button on the elevator.

“You’re not gonna stop, are you.” Van didn’t pose it as a question because he knew the answer.

The elevator slid open and I stepped inside. “Not until I’ve looked into her eyes and asked her why she did it.”

The doors slid shut on my brother’s scowling face.

Lulu

My beat-to-shit, old-as-dirt Honda Accord backfired when I pulled to a stop in Aunt Sara’s driveway. Even though it was dark, I could see the last puff of toxic, gray smoke exploding from the exhaust pipe as I shut off the engine.

So much for stealth.

I had no idea what I’d do about this latest bit of drama. It started about an hour ago and I’d spent the entire sixty minutes clutching the steering wheel in the death grip of all death grips, as if that would stop my car from crapping itself.

I took a minute, not ready to get out, trying to pull it together. I hated this out of control feeling growing inside me. I was a fighter. I’d been scratching and clawing my way through life for a while now. Did whatever necessary to keep Josh safe, to make sure I’d always be there for him. The fact that I couldn’t do anything for my mom was tearing me apart.

I felt like I was hovering above myself, looking down on someone else, some other girl. This wasn’t how it was meant to be. I wasn’t meant to be living this fucked-up freak show of a life. Always looking over my shoulder, always moving, hiding. Struggling to feed my kid. If it weren’t for my aunt, some weeks I wouldn’t have managed.

I thought I was prepared for it. Mom had been sick for a long time, spent more time in the hospital than at home. Still, the news had hit me like a sledgehammer. Three weeks, that’s all she had, maybe less. I hadn’t seen her for almost three years, but I’d known she was there. I liked knowing she was there, that if I ever got the chance to come back, she’d be waiting.

I’d already decided it was time to pack up and move on from Lawrence. I liked Indiana just fine, but staying in one place for too long was stupid, careless, and I’d already been there longer than I should. It was a risk coming home, a huge risk, but I had to see my mom one more time. I had to.

Josh let out an earsplitting wail in the back, scattering my thoughts, and kicked his legs. To say he’d had enough of being stuck in his car seat was an understatement.

“We’re here, baby.” I climbed out quickly and opened his door, pulling him out of his booster before he woke the neighbors.

His legs kept kicking. “Down.”

My son was independent. He’d informed me a week ago that he was a “big boy” and only babies got carried around. Unless they were sleepy and wanted snuggle time, of course. I put him on his feet, his little hand firmly held in mine. The porch light above Sara’s front door flicked on.

It opened a second later and my aunt walked out. My two-year-old big boy wrapped himself around my leg and popped his thumb in his mouth. Something he’d been doing since he was a few months old.

“Lucinda? Is that you, bunny?”

My breath caught in my throat at the sound of her voice. “Yeah, it’s me.” It was all I could get out. Tears clogged my throat, and I had to swallow repeatedly to stop from falling apart. We talked all the time, but I hadn’t seen her since I ran. It’d only been me and Josh all this time, and seeing her, her slight frame moving toward me in her fluffy blue robe and pink slippers, hit me hard.

Then she was standing in front of me. She was short like me, like my mother. I probably had an inch on her five-foot-three inches. But when she wrapped her arms around me, her hold strong and warm, I felt like a little girl. I never wanted to let go. I wanted to come home and let her take care of us, like she begged every time we spoke. I’d been on my own so long, had been forced to be strong, to fight every damn day, and sometimes, I just wanted to give in, to not have to think about . . . anything.

My son wriggled against my side, and Sara pulled back, tears glistening in her eyes. She framed my face in her warm, hands. “My babies are home.”

Josh popped his thumb out of his mouth, and tilted his head back, looking up at us. “Not baby.” Then stuck it back in.

Sara chuckled, threaded her fingers through his in-need-of-a-cut black hair, and grinned. “I don’t suppose you are.” She looked at me. “He’s beautiful, sweetheart.”

My smile wobbled and Josh blinked up at her, his bright blue eyes taking us both in. His body had been tense up until then. He didn’t like new situations, even as a baby, but he relaxed instantly at my aunt’s sweet smile.

Sara wrapped one of her arms around my waist. “Come inside. I bet you’re both hungry?”

That got her another thumb-pop, followed by a big grin. “Pop Tarts!”

Sara frowned. “I don’t think I have those.”

Great, the kid was outing me. I mean, we didn’t live on Pop Tarts, but we indulged from time to time.

Josh scrunched up his face, not impressed. “He’ll eat whatever he’s given,” I piped up.

We walked in the front door. “How about a piece of chocolate cake?” Sara tried again.

“Joe’s cake.” His face was serious as he said this, like a little old man, brows scrunched low. When he frowned, I was sure he looked like Hunter, or maybe it was wishful thinking. Either way, it was a sucker punch every time.

My aunt looked at me puzzled. “Joe’s?”

My face heated. “Trader Joe’s. We get cake there sometimes.” Try every week. I roughed up Josh’s shaggy locks and grinned down at him. “You’re giving away all our secrets, kid.”

Face still serious, he turned to my aunt. “Joe’s cake?” Now he knew there was cake on offer there would be no going back.

Sara stared at him for a second, blinking rapidly, then pulled me into her, hugging me so tight I could barely breathe, and laughed, soft and husky. “Oh, bunny, I’m so glad you’re home.”

I buried my face in her neck and worked very hard at not falling apart.

Josh devoured a PB and J followed by a small piece of cake and a glass of milk, while I showered and changed. I ignored his sleepy protests, and changed him into his PJs, tucking him up in the double bed in the spare room at the back of the house. He handed me his favorite book, Roscoe the Wonder Dog, and I got down to the serious business of reading him a bedtime story. Something I had to do every night without fail. I ran my fingers softly over his hair, hair that never seemed to want to sit flat, and vowed, like I did every day, that I would never let anyone hurt him, that I would protect him with my life if I had to. I stayed until he was out cold a few minutes later.

I kissed his cheek and headed to the kitchen. When I walked in, Sara was filling two coffee cups. She looked up at me when I joined her, eyes warm, but concerned.

She bit her lip. “Are you sure about this?”

I took a seat and she took the one across from me, sliding over my mug. “I have to go to her.”

Her slender fingers tightened around her mug. “I know, baby.”

God, sometimes Sara sounded so much like my mother it hurt to listen to her voice. And sometimes when she’d call, I’d let myself believe it. Just for a few seconds. Until my heart felt like it would explode in my chest, until the guilt over leaving her became too much.

I’m so sorry, Mom.

As we sipped our coffee, Sara explained where I would meet her friend. “She’ll take you to Elizabeth, but then you’re on your own. If you get caught . . .”

I reached out and grabbed her hand. “I won’t.” Hospice patients were allowed visitors twenty-four hours a day, but if you wanted to visit after 8:30 p.m., you had to call ahead. No way I could do that. If any of the nurses told Pierce, I was screwed. “But if I do . . .” This had to be said. “I need you to promise me you won’t call the police. At least, not right away.”

She paled. “Lucinda . . .”

“I have my reasons, but it’s important. Please, I need you to promise.” If the cops got involved, Josh’s existence would be out in the open. I couldn’t have that. If Pierce got hold of me, I was in serious trouble, but I didn’t think he’d kill me. What he could do was threaten Josh, hurt him, use him to control me.

“This has to do with Pierce and why you left, this request?”

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “Yes.”

Her hands shook slightly, but she nodded. “Okay,” she whispered, but there was no hiding the fact she was worried.

Hell, I was worried. But I didn’t have any other choice. What else could I do? This was my one and only chance. “I’ll be fine.”

“I wish you’d stay,” she said softly.

My heart squeezed. “I wish it was that easy, but you know we can’t do that.”

“Maybe . . . maybe it’s time to tell Hunter about Josh.”

“No!” The word exploded past my lips, but Sara wasn’t having any of it and talked right over me.

“He and Van have that P.I business now. They could help you, keep you safe. I don’t know what happened between you and Hunter, but I do know he’s a good man, prison or not. I never believed he did what they said. He loved you, Lulu. He loved you like John loved me. And, bunny, that kind of love only comes around once in a lifetime.”

I’d never told her why I ran, just that it had something to do with Pierce, and she’d stopped asking. I guess she hoped I’d tell her on my own when I was ready. I’d never tell her. She didn’t need to live with the horror of my past as well. I didn’t want her getting caught up in my shit, more than she already was. She’d find a way to blame herself, when no one could have stopped what happened to Hunter or me. And she sure as hell didn’t need that kind of danger at her door.

“Hunter can’t know about Josh.” I took her hand. “Van can’t know either. Promise me, Sara. Promise me you won’t tell them.”

My aunt stared at me, wanting more, but knowing she wouldn’t get it. In the end, she gave in. “All right. If you think that’s best.”

“It is.” Hunter could never find us, could never know about Josh.

Could never learn the truth.

Hunter would be out of prison now, and I knew he’d come looking for me eventually. I had no doubt. I’d screwed him over. Lied. Hunter hated liars, hated secrets, and I’d done both.

I’d had three years. Three years to make a new life for myself, to make sure my baby was safe. It turns out three years hadn’t been long enough. Not by a long shot.

Sara glanced at the delicate, gold watch on her wrist. “You have to meet Carol in about an hour.”

Carol, my aunt’s friend, was going to meet me and I wanted to be there early, just in case. “I better go.”

My aunt stood, came around the table, and pulled me into her arms. “I’ll wait up.”

There was no point telling her not to. She’d worry until I got home. “Okay,” I whispered into her hair.

She gave me one last squeeze then let me go.