“The man who killed your husband was found dead last week.”

Keira lifted her gaze to meet the solemn stare of the two lawyers before her. She knew the moment they showed up at her estate at this late hour, there were some serious developments in the murder case. Mr. Echols, the one with a mass of curly gray hair and large bifocals, presented the memo to her with the words CLOSED CASE stamped across it. The other lawyer, a younger man who was likely Mr. Echols’ apprentice, sat rigid in his chair with a blank stare. His hair was brown and slicked back with loads of gel. He’d barely said a word since arriving, but both of the men eyed her in anticipation.

Mr. Echols cleared his throat loudly and pushed the thin stack of papers closer to her. “Did you hear me? The investigators are closing his case,” he said, more sternly this time.

She heard him loud and clear, but the news only caused her heart to tighten in anguish, leaving her speechless.

Jamison, her late husband, had hired these lawyers several months before his death. She could recall them having a huge disagreement between him and the previous ones he hired. The details that led up to the end of that business relationship were not made known to her. Shortly before he fired them, he’d run into a world of problems—financial and otherwise. He’d been in a terrible rut, trying to fix the mess, and unexpectedly ran out of time.

In such a short period, the new lawyers couldn’t have known Jamison all that well. Jamison died before Mr. Echols and his apprentice had earned their third retainer fee.

She swallowed. “How do they know they’ve found his killer?”

“They have DNA and solid physical evidence linking this man to the crime.” Mr. Echols nudged the open portfolio toward her. The first document was a mug shot of a man with a grisly beard. “He also fits the description you gave to the cops that night.”

Keira should’ve recognized him at first glance, but she didn’t. If this man was Jamison’s killer, shouldn’t she have had some type of instant reaction to seeing his picture? A year had passed since that unfortunate night and even back then when the events were still fresh in her memory, she couldn’t paint a clear enough picture of anything. Plus, reliving the tragedy caused her grief. Pushing the memories away by passing the time with other matters helped to control her anxiety.

“People make mistakes. Everything happened so quickly. I could have missed something important about the man’s description,” she said.

Mr. Echols shook his head. “We can’t rule out the incriminating evidence found at the scene of the crime. Jamison Ellis’s family has accepted his passing. His brother Jonathan has agreed it’s about time the case is officially closed.”

“What?” She pounded a fist on the table. “That man is only concerned with liquidating all assets as quickly as possible. He made it absolutely clear they no longer want me to handle any aspects of the family business.”

“That’s another matter. A business matter…and none of our concern,” he said carefully.

She lifted an eyebrow. “But don’t you think it’s a little suspicious they want me out of the picture all of a sudden?”

A corner of Mr. Echols mouth lifted, and his apprentice sat up in his chair. “Are you accusing them of something, Ms. Ellis?” When she didn’t say anything, Mr. Echols continued, “We see this all the time, ma’am. Husband dies tragically and then the family business everyone once relied on is in shambles. The widow is paid a healthy sum of money on top of her inheritance to get the hell out of dodge. Nothing new there. The Ellises just want to start with a clean slate.”

“They can have the business. I want nothing to do with it.” Her fingers tingled and her blood pressure seemed to sky rocket, but she shoved the folder back across the table toward Mr. Echols. “I’m not getting the hell out of anywhere until I find out why Jamison was murdered.”

Mr. Echols’ back stiffened and he frowned. “You’re young, Ms. Ellis. Don’t be a fool. Move on with your life—while you still have it.”

The room was dead silent as Keira contemplated his warning.

Did she dare to head his advice? She knew something wasn’t right about the way Jamison died. Everyone, including Jamison’s father and brother, wanted to sweep all evidence under the rug and be done with it.

It would have been easier, safer for her to pack her bags and start a new life elsewhere. And she would. Someday soon she hoped she would but not without finding closure.

“I’m not crazy, but everyone seems to think I am.” Keira’s voice trembled with irritation as she spoke. “More than one man was responsible for Jamison’s death. Closed case does not mean solved case.”

Mr. Echols looked over the rim of his bifocals “Ms. Ellis, these investigators are highly trained and work murder cases like this day in and day out. From the beginning, no one could corroborate your story about an animal mauling him to death.”

“So, it’s been decided?” She balled her hands into fists and heat flashed across her chest. “One of Jamison’s killers remains free because the investigators failed to do their jobs.”

“You expect them to prosecute a wild animal?” He choked on his laughter.

Her chest tightened and her temples pulsed erratically. “I expect them to do their job and perform a thorough investigation.”

“Even if they found the animal responsible for killing Jamison Ellis as you claim, what can they do? Put it in the pound?” His thick eyebrows drew closer together. “For goodness sake, the prime suspect is dead. Why are you so hell-bent on pinning someone else with the crime? Why do you want to poke your nose where it does not belong? Do—”

“I was married to Jamison for three years.” Her voice rose high to match her rising anger. “I hardly consider that poking my nose where it doesn’t belong. This wasn’t a random crime. I—”

“It is to your advantage this case is closed.” His lips thinned and his face held a grim expression. “Don’t you want to move on with your life? For the longest time you were a suspect.”

In the beginning, they’d accused her of plotting to have Jamison murdered and assisting with the attack. That claim had been shot down quickly after she hired a lawyer. The media claimed her money had bought one of the best defense attorneys in the country. Despite her innocence, the local newspapers said it was the money that cleared her as a suspect.

“I was cleared of all charges!”

Mr. Echols raised his eyebrow. “Then do you really want them to reopen this?”

“What are you saying, Mr. Echols? Do you still believe I murdered him?”

“I’m advising you to leave this be.”

“Jamison’s family doesn’t believe me either. I’ll hire a private investigator of my own. One that will do the job.” She pushed her chair back from the table. “Thank you for your time. Good night.”

Their expressions showed only the smallest hint of surprise. Did they think she would give in so easily? She knew what she saw that night, but no matter how many times she recounted the events to the lawyers and investigators alike, no one appreciated her two cents.

Keira, listen to yourself. Jamison is dead. No one can help him now. No one will help you.

“Very well.” Mr. Echols tucked the portfolio and memo back into his briefcase and rolled up his sleeves. “If you need assistance finding an investigator, we can refer you to someone. I hope you rethink this before it’s too late.”

At this point, she didn’t know who she could trust. “I don’t need the assistance, thank you,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Keira was tempted to fire the lawyers on the spot. Obviously, they never had her Jamison’s best interests in mind. She was beginning to understand very few did. His death had thrown everyone for a loop, and now she was left alone to tie the loose ends back together. Only no one seemed to want her to.

Suddenly a wave of nausea flooded over her, and she gripped the edges of the table as her knees turned to putty.

She reached for the glass and took a sip of water before glaring at the lawyers. “It’s time for you two to leave.” She turned to address the butler standing nearby. “Please see them out.”

Before either of them could object, she turned, tightened her night-robe around her torso, and left the room. Her stomach grumbled in protest, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since early afternoon. There was no use when everything tasted of cardboard.

Her head ached more than her belly did, and instead of her warm bed, she curled up under the cozy blankets on the daybed in the library. Today had been the one-year anniversary of Jamison’s death, and she still found herself clueless and alone.

As Keira began to drift off to sleep, she contemplated whether she should push to solve Jamison’s murder or heed Mr. Echols warning.

* * *

Something scratched against the window. She lifted her head and peered at the darkened shadows on the walls. Something scraped across the glass again, but this time she only caught sight of tree branches brushing against the window. A tingle prickled up her spine, even though she was under the warm comforts of her blanket. She glanced around the room to make sure there was nothing out of place.

She’d make a note to call the gardeners to trim back the trees and hedges. She couldn’t remember the last time they had come.

There was a loud bang against the outside of the house and she jolted upright. As the glass shattered and fell to the floor, her lips trembled and she covered her mouth to keep from screaming. A sharp breeze whipped against her face as she realized something was thrown at the window to break through the glass.

The burglar alarm should have sounded, but it didn’t. Had someone turned it off? She’d had it inspected last week. There was no way it could have broken down so soon. Keira held her breath and slid her hands under the mattress for the weapon she kept there. She made contact with the hilt of the .9 millimeter handgun, gripped the handle, and pulled it out. Someone jerked at the window frame, and her palms grew slippery.

She propped up in bed, holding the gun level in both hands.

She was scared shitless. She could feel it with every jolt of her heart. The phone was located three feet away on the desk, and if she made a run for it now, she’d bring attention to herself. The full-time maid and butler slept on the floor above her, but did they hear the break-in?

The blood raced through her veins like a freight train. Despite the tremors shooting through her fingertips, she held steady and focused as the top of a head came into view. Judging by the width of the person’s shoulders and large build, she guessed that it was a grown man.

Keira lowered herself where she could still focus, aim, and shoot.

A hand emerged through the crack in the window. Most of the sound was muffled as he expertly used a thick towel in the act. His face was hidden by a dark scarf. From afar she watched as he examined the room. His center of attention fell on the row of bookcases. It became evident the intruder had no idea she was at the other end of the room, lying motionless on the daybed in the dark shadows.

The window frame shifted and creaked as he reached inside and turned the lock. She cocked the gun, cringing at the sound of each tick of metal.

Adorned in black clothing and carrying a duffle bag, he lifted himself inside not even making a sound.

With all the self-defense and firearms training classes she’d taken after Jamison’s murder, Keira knew she could take him out with one shot, but she was just as curious to find out what the intruder wanted.

As he stood in front of the tallest bookcase with his back to her, she noticed he was slimmer in build than she’d originally thought. The moonlight allowed full view of the intruder. Had his face not been concealed, she would have been able to make that out, too. His head moved from side to side as he took in everything in front of him. He slid the bulky duffel bag off his shoulder, held it by his side, and then moved closer to the bookcase.

In her silent observation, Keira became curious about the intruder’s motivations, and her fingers went lax on the gun. After catching herself, she immediately tightened her grip again.

The hooded intruder glided his gloved fingers along the middle row of books, his movements quiet and graceful.

She had perfect aim. Hours and hours of gun practice for this very purpose, and she had yet to act.

Suddenly, he stopped.

Keira bit her lip and held her eyes wide, careful not to blink.

He plucked a book from the shelf, set it aside, and fumbled with something behind the other leather-bound hardcovers. He pulled one of the larger books off the shelf and then shoved it inside his jacket.

Keira craned her neck to get a better look, but the angle of the moonlight was all wrong. His body blocked the view, and the darkness in the room didn’t help.

The intruder began fumbling with something near the back of the bookcase.

To her astonishment, the entire bookcase shifted. The frame titled forward as if it was a door, and Keira gasped.

The intruder turned sharply and spotted her. His wide eyes sparked bright against the darkened interior of the room. The color of his irises was all wrong—almost surreal. His silver gaze matched hers, and he mumbled something terse.

Before she could assess him further, he reached behind his back.

Her survival instincts kicked in and she fired the gun. The bullet hit a tall, decorative vase near the fireplace, shattering it to pieces.

He bolted for the window and knocked over an end table, two flower vases, and a chair as he made his escape.

She stood, gripping the gun tightly.

His hooded jacket caught on a part of the window and tore as he hurled himself outside. The book he’d tried to steal fell to the floor under the window.

“Hey!” She jumped up with the gun still in hand. “Stop!” Her heart slamming against her chest, she rushed toward him.

He turned around and paused to focus on the book lying on the floor. He then looked up at her with those stark silver eyes once more and swiftly disappeared.

Keira darted toward the window and peered outside into the darkness. She saw absolutely nothing. Heard absolutely nothing. The intruder was gone.

Why had he come? What had he taken?

Her heart still pulsed with terror and she doubled over, fighting to catch her breath.

Someone burst into the library. “Keira! What happened? What was that?” Francine, Keira’s maid, turned on the lights. A delicate hand gripped at her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Keira shook her head, still looking out into the night. “Someone broke in here. The alarm never went off.”

Francine wailed in distress. “Thomas!” she called toward the door. “Call the police. Now!”

The police would do nothing; Keira was sure of it. They already thought she was a lunatic. If they’d been patrolling the area as promised, maybe the intruder would have been deterred from breaking and entering her home.

“The police will be here soon. Can I get you something to drink?” Francine focused dropped to the gun. “Did you shoot him?”

“I don’t think so.” Keira picked up the book that had fallen under the window. It had a metal cover with some sort of design. It was extremely heavy and the pages were thick and uneven.

Francine was eyeing her strangely, so she walked over to the bookshelf. Astonishingly, the door that was once open was now closed with no evidence of the bookshelf being moved. Odd. Not wanting to call any attention to the book, she placed it in an empty slot.

The maid nodded and took her arm. “Come. Let’s stay out of this room until the police have checked it out.” She pressed the back of her hand against Keira’s forehead. “You seem to be running a fever.”

Keira had developed more than just a fever. Her brain was cluttered with the events that transpired, from the shady lawyers to the sneaky intruder.

“I need my migraine pills, too, Francine,” she said, following Francine without much fuss, but she had a strong inclination to turn around and find out what else was behind that particular bookcase. Whatever it was, she was certain it would turn her world upside down.

* * *

Aiden lifted his nose to the air and just before he breathed in a whiff of something burning, the smoke detector went off. He dropped the envelopes he’d been shuffling through and rushed into the small galley kitchen.

“Motherfucker!”

It was too late. Black smoke floated up from the skillet and began to fill the room. He turned off the burner and removed the pan to the back of the stove. As he fanned the dark fumes with a dish towel, his eardrums pulsed. The shrill sound of the alarm aggravated him.

He hurried over to the smoke detector and pressed the red button to disarm it. The sharp beeping ceased.

When he returned to the stove, most of the smoke had disappeared and his grilled cheese sandwich was still intact, albeit extremely charred. Groaning, he threw the blackened mess into the trash. He grabbed a large bowl, poured in a generous helping of Corn Flakes and milk, and retreated to the sofa.

If Aiden expected to survive his retirement, he needed to learn how to cook or hire a chef pronto. Hunting and eating in wolf form wasn’t always possible in Spring Forks. Maybe he should’ve taken Devin up on his offer to build a cabin on his land just outside of Caedmon Village. Then at least Aiden wouldn’t have to worry about scaring any of the townsfolk while hunting. On the other hand, he’d have to worry about other wolves getting too close to his home and in his business. There were advantages and disadvantages to living near his kind. He didn’t have all the facts, so he couldn’t determine if one outweighed the other.

The Pack meetings had become frequent and lengthy over the past few months. It seemed every month he was called to attend one. Aiden understood it was his duty and all, but if he’d lived a little closer, the meetings wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass. That was the one thing about his retirement. He could devote all his time to the Pack, as it should be. With so many things going on, his Alpha and other Council members needed him more than ever.

He picked up the envelope he’d thrown aside in his haste to exit the smoky kitchen and settled back on the sofa. After sliding his thumb under the seal, he pulled out what he expected to be his last real paycheck.

It was written out for $140,000. Aiden’s pay to guard a congressman during his three month re-election campaign wasn’t a bad bonus at all.

The actual fee of $120,000 had been received during the term of his employment: a five month contract. His earnings had already been invested in various portfolios by Jayson Truman, his trusty financial advisor. Not all jobs brought in stipends of this size. With this particular client, there were already threats on his life. The higher the client’s risk, the more the pay.

Just seeing and having the check in his hands brought back the temptation to call his scout and ask if there were any other jobs. But he reminded himself why he was retiring in the first place. Money wasn’t everything, especially when one never had the chance to enjoy spending it.

Aiden was only thirty-five years old and a retired professional bodyguard. Retirement came late; two years after he’d originally planned to quit this line of work. All his life he served one purpose, and that was to protect. He was damn proud of his accomplishments, but what he wanted now was his own purpose in life. There was purpose—there was always a purpose—but not much time to embark on it.

While he was finishing up his cereal and flipping through a few channels on the television, his cell phone rang. He unhooked it from his belt loop and accepted the call without paying attention to the caller ID. “Aiden Price.”

“I’ve got an assignment.”

The urgency of his scout’s voice caused Aiden’s veins to pulse. He took the phone away from his ear to look at the LCD screen that flashed with a name. Max.

Connor Maxim was his scout, but everyone called him Max for short. He was the middle man between Aiden and the clients. Not only did he run his own private security firm, he had deep connections with the Feds.

Aiden brought the phone back up to his ear and sat straight up. “I’m retired. Why am I still on the list?”

“You’ve technically been removed from the master list, but you’re still programmed into my cell.”

Aiden made a mental note to change his phone number. Moving probably wouldn’t be a bad idea either. Disappearing off the face of the earth would be even better. “I’m done, Max. You know this.”

“Come on, Aiden. The client requested the best. All my good people are out on other assignments, and you are the best. You know that, don’t you? Why did you have to quit out on me now, man?”

“Call Rodney. I spoke to him yesterday, and he’s out of work and looking for another quick job.” Rodney was a friend and trusted co-worker. He’d just entered the profession, and for the past year, Aiden had trained him in techniques the newer bodyguard schools didn’t cover.

“No, I’m calling you,” Max said, his voice firm. “Besides, you’re less than three hours from the client.”

“Who is it?”

“Aiden, you know I can’t reveal that until you accept.”

Aiden exhaled in annoyance. “And you and I both know I never accept a client without the details.”

There was the sound of paper being shuffled on the other end. “Her name is Keira Ellis. Once married to Jamison Ellis, a very wealthy man. The liaison claims she’s alone, confused, and scared. Keira requested protection beyond the police. Based on the circumstances surrounding their request, I negotiated and they’re offering a hundred thousand…upfront.”

One hundred thousand was a big sum of money to turn down. He knew there was a catch. There had to be some imminent danger involved.

Ellis. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he was too annoyed about being bothered during his retirement to paint a clear picture of anything at that moment.

“What’s the catch? What type of trouble is she in?” There was more to it than Max was telling him. The generous fee told him that.

“Will you take the job or not? If I don’t deliver the best, there’s a chance her liaison will move to the next security firm.”

“Call Rodney or the liaison will have to do just that.”

“Come on. I’ve already sent them two portfolios. The liaison picked you.”

Aiden scrubbed his palm down his face. “Max…”

“Just one more, and I promise I won’t ever call you again.”

Aiden didn’t believe him, but Max had a job to do and client’s requests to fulfill. “Answer my question. What is she afraid of?”

“Her husband was murdered some time ago. There was an incident recently. Her home was broken into, and further investigation revealed the security system had been tampered with. Police are already watching her house and patrolling the neighborhood. Like I said, the liaison mentioned she’d feel safer with her own protection. You’d have minimal duties and she barely leaves the property. In fact even though her husband is dead, she refuses to leave the estate.”

Aiden grumbled. “I’ve got a vacation planned in a few days.”

“I’ll decrease my cut. Do this last one.”

“For how long?”

“Just four months.”

Damn. Only a four month contract to serve and protect. His instincts were telling him he was getting into some really bad shit taking this job. But this was what he was born to do. The satisfaction he received at the end of the day for protecting a client from their fears, and sometimes real threats, was reward enough.

He’d rest sooner or later but first…

It’s only four months.

“E-mail me the contract. If I don’t see it in thirty minutes, there is no deal.”

“Standby,” Max said and disconnected the call.

Not even sixty seconds later, a sound came from the laptop. A message flashed on the screen. Incoming Email.

He opened his wallet and folded the bonus check from the congressman neatly inside. He would deposit it later.

Working as a bodyguard had always been this way. A never-ending cycle.

The moment one job ended, another began.