ESTEBAN WAS A no show. The funeral had come and gone, and the bastard couldn’t be bothered to attend the service for his dead wife and child. Word on the street was that he was just too devastated and distraught; it was more than he could bear.

Truth was, he was a fucking coward. The circumstances around his wife and son’s deaths didn’t smell right to him, and he stayed as hidden as Lydia and Declan were. What was even more sad was that it wasn’t because he suspected they were really alive – that part of the ruse was a solid success – it was that he cared more about himself than lost loved ones. He didn’t want to be some random enemy’s next hit.

Rather than say goodbye, he hid, while his people searched for clues as to who did them in, just in case they were after him next. Paranoia will do that to you. What wasn’t clear was what came first, the paranoia or the selfish, sociopathic tendencies.

As if confirming your husband didn’t give two shits about your death because he gave even less when you were alive wasn’t hard enough – hard truths came in other ways. Lydia and Trinity had been as close as sisters could be growing up and through their adulthood, but that family bond began and ended with the two of them. They were raised by nannies, not their parents, as children for looks – possessions – nothing more.

Their parents had always taken care of them financially, made sure they had the best of everything, traveled, the best schools, anything and everything at their fingertips. What they didn’t provide was affection, concern, support, or love. That could be seen even in their death.

The Prescott family was known for their money and prestige, but they were cold as hell. One would think that burying your daughters would attract a certain attention, maybe even a bit of regret for time lost, but it didn’t. They couldn’t even be bothered to show up on time. They were the last to arrive with their full entourage of doting assistants in tow, and the first to leave without a single word to anyone much less a single tear shed.

It was an odd event and Lydia struggled with what it all meant. It was so superficial, unimportant, lacked real emotion or celebration. Was her funeral a reflection of her life? Had she been so shallow and surrounded by such a façade that even in fake death, she learned how little of an impact she had while supposedly alive?

There were more people from the media and curious strangers there than anything. No real friends, no real family, not even her husband. If you want to know where you rank in the world – die – it paints the entire picture.

Declan had his own people blending in the crowd, unbeknownst to the undercovers from his agency. It seemed that Esteban was believed to be on a yacht somewhere in the middle of an ocean, grieving with champagne and a harem of whores. Classy.

Lydia was struggling enough without that piece of information, so Declan kept it to himself. All of the personal progress they had made the past few weeks, building some sort of friendship, had completely unwound. Overcome with sadness and quiet, she had crawled back into that place she was the first few days of their journey.

It was to be expected, on some level, watching your own funeral on T.V., reading about it in the paper, and finding out just where you stood in the world wasn’t easy. She was questioning it all. The proverbial quest to seek out the meaning of life was just dropped in her lap as a big fat, you don’t matter much. Or so she thought.

They continued their morning work outs, though she didn’t have the same drive. During self-defense lessons, she let it all out, her sadness turning to anger. She gave him everything she had and then some. Her physical drive was intact, but her emotional drive was all over the place. Not only did Declan worry about this for obvious safety reasons, but he worried for her in other ways, too. It was hard to see her like that. She was completely crushed – devastated.

Declan went into town, looking for ways to cheer her up. He was completely out of his element though. Emotions weren’t his thing, and he was completely out of his realm of expertise. Buying her a gun probably wasn’t the solution but it was the only thing he could think of. If it were safe, he would call home, talk to his mom or even his sister. But they had been estranged for a few years, while he was undercover, and calling now just wasn’t worth the risk.

He had stayed in touch with his brothers; they all worked together, and that is who he was relying on now in lieu of his agency, but they were as good with women as they were at knitting. Liam was the exception; he had been married but lost his wife tragically and hadn’t been the same since. Declan was on his own with his girl trouble, and it was as annoying as it sounded.

She had been drawing the past few days, riding the waves of her funk. Before she had Jax, and time became sparse, art was something she had immersed herself in. Obviously finding comfort in it now, he thought he would give her more.

He arrived back at the cottage with an arsenal of goods. Art was something that she used to enjoy until motherhood made time to do so difficult. He was happy to see her find comfort in something like that and thought he would indulge her, give her more options.

Bags full of fresh sugary baked goods, fresh cut flowers, and bundles of art supplies – he set them all on the kitchen counter while he looked for her. When she wasn’t in her room or out in her favorite spot on the deck, concern started to nudge him. He called for her with no answer, even scanned the property around the ponds using binoculars.

Nothing in the house was out of place. All of the doors and windows were still locked and the other car still parked in the garage, unused. With no signs of a struggle, he was at a loss. He was also worried. He roamed her room again, and her purse caught his eye. A clue. The purse was still there, but her wallet was gone.

Had she left? There was nothing around them, and the town was a good mile away. How would she have gotten there, and why didn’t he pass her on the road when he was headed back from there?

Barreling out the front door, he rushed to town and started looking for her. This was not only out of character for her, but it wasn’t safe. What could she possibly be doing there, alone.

Rapid Falls was small enough that he could do an effective search, quickly, on his own, without calling in help. He hoped. Declan wasn’t opposed to calling in the boys, though, if she didn’t turn up fast.

Parking in the center of town, he thought it best for a scan and search. Standing in the middle of town square, he looked at the surrounding buildings, prioritizing his search. Starting with boutiques, he cleared them one by one before moving on to the yoga studio and even the hair salon. There was no sign of her.

Being vegan, it didn’t seem likely that she would have sought out a meal at any of the three diners in town, but he searched anyway. Nothing. The hardware store, barber shop, and vacuum store were as likely to host her attention as thrift store shopping, but he checked all of those, too.

The only things left unchecked were a couple of bars. She didn’t drink, and when she did, it was the stuff that these places didn’t serve. However, she hadn’t been herself, so maybe drinking was on the agenda since she wasn’t anywhere else. Process of elimination landed him at the bar right in the heart of town. It wasn’t fancy, or even clean by most standards, but compared to the alternative, it was the Ritz Carlton and more her style.

When she wasn’t there, a sense of dread filled him. The last place to look was the second bar, and it was as shady and seedy as they came, sitting just at the edge of town. That hole in the wall dive drew in every type of traveler from the nearby highway and boasted a nightlife that would scare the devil himself. Not even the locals frequented the place. It was that awful they even shared an address.

His unease only grew at the sight of the rough and worn, beat to hell, redneck pickup trucks and rows of motorcycles that reflected the crowd of rough and tumble types who were inside. The kind of people who think laws and basic manners were nothing more than suggestions.

If she was in there, they weren’t getting out easily. A girl like her in a place like that was a ticking timebomb for ruckus since there was alcohol involved. They both just may be in over their heads on this one – as much as he wanted to find her, he prayed she wasn’t inside.

No such luck – the minute he walked in, his eyes landed on her. She was the only girl dressed for the gym with her tits tucked away in a sea of more skin than he cared to see, fish net stockings, and fuck me heels for days. Despite her modest attire, she was surrounded by leather clad, steel boot wearing wannabe bad boys with hair longer than hers.

Sitting right in front of her was a row of empty shot glasses and even a beer she was sipping with her pinkies out – that explained the volume in which she was speaking. Apparently, she was having trouble hearing herself over the booze and basket of half eaten burger remnants and fries sitting in front of her. She must only be a vegan when she’s sober.

Declan sat back at a corner table and just watched her. She was coping alright; this was her at rock bottom, taking shots with bikers and thugs. The pain was numb now, no doubt from the empty tequila bottle sitting next to her. But after the hang over, it would all be back. And he would be there to help her pick up the pieces.

Lydia had excused herself to the Ladies’ room, the booze adding a little confidence to her swagger by way of a sassy sway to her already all eyes on me hips. He thought the long leggings and t-shirt he picked out would make her tantalizing curves less tempting and wet dream provoking. He was wrong. That outfit made her fit body just that much more obvious, and he didn’t like the attention it was getting.

Her ass in those pants was what brought big strong men to their knees. He needed to get her a longer shirt or baggy sweatpants. Or…he could just keep her to himself, locked away, for his eyes only.

Stirred from his thoughts when she had yet to return and the men who were flocking her were gone, he quickly made his way across the bar and down a back hallway, not hesitating to enter the ladies’ room. All he found was a real classy woman wearing more makeup than a clown on acid, dressed like a cheap corner hooker trying to pay rent. She was giving a guy with a handful of her tits a cheap good time.

Back tracking a bit, he recalled seeing a third door at the end of the hallway he had come through and wondered if it had been an exit, or someplace a few guys could find privacy with a girl who didn’t belong there. Rushing through the door, his own imagination scaring him when he thought about what could be happening to her, he nearly ran right into the crowd when he burst through the door to the back alley.

“Fuck off!” Lydia spat in one of her admirers’ face. Not a help; someone save me, but fuck off. Liquid courage mixed with her temper meant things were about to get ugly.

Not sure if he should be impressed or angry with her for landing an elbow jab to the nose of one of the men attempting to manhandle her, he sized up the two men still standing before intervening. She was flanked by two, one on his knees in front of her, cupping his now bloody nose.

“You bitch.” The man fell to his knees, when Lydia’s revenge seeking knee landed right in the sweet spot between his legs, causing him to bend forward in pain, giving her knee a second clear shot, this time to his face. She knocked him flat on his ass.

“Who’s the bitch now? You really need to learn some manners and how to treat a fucking lady!” she laughed, pleased with the royal ass kicking she was delivering.

She stepped forward to hit him again, but there was something she hadn’t counted on. One, alcohol will make you stumble and distort your target. Two, this asshole had two friends. Her triumph quickly turned to fear when she was overpowered, and the man she attacked was looking at her like death was her calling.

“Oh shit!” she cried, closing her eyes, preparing for the assault she would surely receive that never came.

When the men to her sides grabbed her and slammed her against the wall, all Declan could see was red. He ripped them off of her, one at a time, but fought them simultaneously like it was no match at all. It was three to one, yet Declan fought like he outnumbered them and had the upper hand.

Lydia was shoved to the ground by one of her would be attackers. Reaching for a piece of a broken wooden pallet, she swung the plank, hitting one of her attackers across the knees, then grabbed his ankle and pulled his footing out from under him. Dec paused, noticing the action, and gave her an impressed look before the three finally gave up. With their injuries excessive, panting in exhaustion, their hands went up in surrender as they slowly backed away.

“That crazy bitch is all yours, man,” one hollered.

More of that liquid courage spoke out when Lydia took offense to being called anything but a lady, “Bitch?! Who you callin…”

“Lydia, that’s enough,” Declan panted through gritted teeth, never taking his don’t fuck with me stare off the men down the alleyway.

Certain they weren’t coming for round two, he offered a hand up to Lydia so they could get the hell out of there before word spread, and they had more company.

She stumbled on her feet and missed every bit of dirt she attempted to brush off of herself. “I had it under control.”

With a side-eye glare, he said, “Sure. Looked like it. Let’s go.”

With her feet firmly planted and hands on her hips, it seemed he was now on her ass kicking radar. “I did!”

He turned to her in a wide stance, crossing his arms, daring her to say more. And she did.

“I didn’t need you and all…this…” She waved her hands wildly in front of him, indicating he was this, and continued, “muscle to come to my rescue…again! I can take care of myself!”

Reasoning with a drunk was like reasoning with a hungry bear at a picnic. He grabbed her elbow, leading her the opposite direction as the men who still stood at the other end of the alley, plotting their round two. “Let’s go home, now.”

“No!” she said, yanking her arm from his grasp and crossed them in a tantrum-like fashion.

“Fine, we’ll do this the hard way!” Standing toe to toe with her, he placed his large hands around her small waist, tossing her over his shoulder, and walked to the end of the alley, headed toward town center where he had left the car.

Screaming and yelling, she hit his ass, over and over, trying to wiggle out of his grip. “Let me down! Jesus, your ass is tight and hard as a rock. Put me down!”

It wasn’t until the unfamiliar voice sounded that she realized Declan stopped dead in his tracks for reasons other than she had told him to. Stretching to her right, she tried to look around Declan to see who was getting a perfect eye height view of her ass on his shoulder.

“Heard there was a scuffle of sorts goin’ on out back. Wouldn’t know nothin’ about that, would ya?” The deputy sheriff looked around Declan to find an empty alley way, giving Lydia a nod and tip of his hat while he did.

Declan didn’t like how much time deputy Mayberry USA spent on Lydia’s ass, and though he’d never hit an officer of the law, he sure as hell wanted to in that moment. “Nope, all’s good here, sir.”

Still looking at her ass, he waved a finger up and down and asked, “What’s this here all about?”

“Oh, my old lady here had a few too many. She’s a little…ya know…” Declan used his free hand to gesture, as if he were drinking a cold mug of beer with a tipsy expression for dramatic effect.

“Old Lady?” Lydia shrieked, resuming tantrum mode with two fists to Declan’s ass. “I am not your…”

Before she could say more than she could take back and make life harder than it already was, Declan interrupted her with a loud overpowering voice, “She’s plastered pretty good. You know the type, I’m sure, given your line of work?”

“The type?! I’m right here, ya know!”

Ol’ Barney Fife gave Dec a knowing nod and relaxed in his stance. “A real handful, huh?”

Playing the scene like it was straight out of Hollywood, Declan snapped his free finger and pointed it at the law man. “See, you do know the type – a lot of trouble – but can’t seem to let ’em go.”

A huffy near growl of frustration roared through Lydia, “What? Oh my… He is not with me!”

The deputy straightened at her comment, as if her plea came across as something sinister. Staring Declan down, he placed one hand on his weapon and the other on his holstered night stick.

“She’s just mad. I wouldn’t let her eat my burger.” He turned his head as if tossing his emphasized words over his shoulder to send her a message only she would understand. “She’s a vegan, but apparently booze makes her a carnivorous meat fiend.”

Declan tossed a half shrug and eye roll in with his shaking head, hoping to make it even more ridiculous than it sounded.

“Vegan – right…” The deputy sheriff had a bewildered look about him, probably didn’t know what a vegan was.

“Anyway, I better get this one home before the booze wears off and the room starts spinning. I don’t want to clean that out of the car again. Ewwww.” Declan finished with a disgusted shudder.

“Put me down, Declan!” she shouted.

He froze, as did she, at the use of his real name.

In a quick recovery attempt, he laughed and tossed a thumb over his shoulder in her direction and shook his head once again – he was getting whiplash. “See? My name’s Decker. She’s drunker than I thought.”

He finally put her down when she began to kick again and create a scene he may not be able to bullshit his way out of.

Combing her hands over her hair first, she took a deep breath and straightened out her bunched-up top before landing her hands on her halfcocked hips. She stumbled, Declan catching her, glad the alcohol was helping him out and making her look foolish.

“See, he’s kidnapped me and he’s trying to make me do what he says in his little prison.” With her nose in the air, she turned and nodded to Dec as if saying ha before giving her attention back to the deputy sheriff.

Declan thought, this ought to be good, and crossed his arms and plastered on a cocky grin she had yet to see before.

“Uh, what’s that little lady? Prison?” the officer asked.

Raising his right hand and swirling his index finger at the side of his head in an exaggerated gesture he let out a long sinking whistle and topped it with yet another eye roll suggesting she was crazy. He was getting really good at those eye rolls.

Offended, she let out a sharp gasp while her face took on a deep crimson he hadn’t seen on her before. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that was the moment he feared he had gone a bit too far. She – was – pissed.

Whipping out her I.D. and handing it to the officer, she went on to tell him exactly who she was, albeit in a drunken manner. “My name is Lydia, Esteban’s wife. He’s a bad man killed some guys, and now he’s chasing me because I’m dead all of a sudden, and I don’t know where my sister is because she has my son, and we need to arrest the husband, so you need to arrest this guy because he’s hiding out too, and I need another beer now!”

“Uhhh,” the deputy started while flicking her I.D. between his fingers, “Says here your name is, Emily Black.”

Slack jawed and wide eyed, she realized what she had just done, and it wasn’t helping her any more than it was blowing her cover. Who would believe that story? Time to clarify.

With a charming smile and sweet voice, she tried her hand at sweet talking the guy into believing her. “That’s exactly what I meant, Emily Black, but that’s my undercover name.”

And with that, she sealed the deal and Declan clearly won this battle. He couldn’t have done a better job throwing someone off their trail with a bullshit story than she did with the truth.

“See what I mean? I better get her home before the bad man comes to get her. I’m sorry to have wasted your time, sir.” He tossed her back over his shoulder and walked away, toward the town square like he had attempted just before her fit.

“Wait, but that’s not me. I mean it looks like me, but, it’s not me, that’s Emily, well I’m Emily, but I’m not really…”

Declan turned to the deputy sheriff and added one final thought to get off his radar, “Thank you for your service, sir. It’s a down right honorable and selfless job you do.”

Since she couldn’t shut up, Lydia continued her tirade, “Oh please…in a town like this? He’s basically a security guard.”

Playing along and taking every opportunity she gave him, Declan slapped her ass and said, “Now don’t go being rude, Emily. I think you need to stick to root beer.”

The sheriff wandered in to the bar when they got to their car, and Declan set her down, opening her door for her. “Get in, now.”

With one arm crossed and the other upright while she inspected her nails, she firmly stated, “No.”

He gritted his teeth, “Lydia, I am not playing around.”

She laughed and tossed her head back, enjoying his torture, “Lydia? Don’t you mean, Emily? What’s your name again? Oh, right…Decker?”

“For Christ sake, Emily, Lydia, whoever the hell you are…get in!”

“You’re not the boss of me, you know!” That even sounded childish to her, if children slurred and swayed in alcohol induced tantrums.

The roaring timbre of his voice quaked through her, getting her attention. “Quit acting like a spoiled brat and get in the fucking car, or I’ll be forced to…I don’t know…put your ass in the trunk, but not until after I give it a good spanking.”

“You’re such a bully,” she said, getting in the final word before climbing into her seat.

“And you’re a pampered princess. There, we’re even!” He walked to the driver side of the car and got in, speeding out of town before they drew any more negative attention to themselves. At that hour, when it was dark, and few people were around, they were sitting ducks. He’d kindly remind her of that when she was sober.

There was a part of her that wanted to hold out for that spanking he promised, but she thought better of it and did what he said, mostly because she was starting to see two of him.

The ride home was long and quiet, even though only lasting five or so minutes.

Angry at Declan for humiliating her as he did, she found herself more embarrassed by her own behavior. She went straight to her room, when they got back to the cottage, and slammed her door for dramatic effect while he grabbed a beer and went to the back deck to cool off and unwind.

The soothing sounds of nature’s night time hosts always calmed him down. It didn’t matter where he was; there wasn’t a place that didn’t have its own unique night life of creatures. Staring off into the clear night’s sky, he was getting ready to go back inside and call it a night when Lydia joined him on the deck, just an hour or so later.

She plopped down on the bench swing next to him, avoiding eye contact. With her hands in her lap, she stared straight ahead, fidgeting as she stared off for a moment before finally looking down at her hands. She looked defeated.

He noticed that she had showered and changed, seemed a bit more sober than she was.

With glassy eyes, she looked at him and asked, “Do you like me?”

Baffled, he tilted his head and gave her a confused look, not sure how to approach that question. Honesty would mean breaking all of his own rules because his truth was one long nights of passion and talks about forever were born of. And he wasn’t a forever kind of guy.

If he answered as a professional to avoid blurred lines, he could hurt her, and she had been hurt plenty. Truth was, he liked her – a lot – more than he should and not just as friends. How the hell was he supposed to say all of that without crossing boundaries?

“I mean in general. I know tonight, I was…I was an ass. I’m sorry.”

She was staring off again after a long pause. For the first time, he noticed just how insecure she was and how incredibly vulnerable that made her. Her red rimmed glassy eyes threatened to spill over – she had been crying.

He went with safe; find out what she really wanted to know so he didn’t reveal too much. “Where is all of this coming from?”

“My life – up to this point – it hasn’t meant anything. I died, and my husband, our friends, and all of the other people who should have been at my funeral weren’t. My own parents barely made it – it was just for show.” Her confession was pained and all true. The tears finally fell over.

“It’s a weird situation, Lydee. You can’t measure your worth or your legacy by people who care about money, power, and their own image above all else,” he started. “They may be at the top of the Forbes list, but they live like bottom feeders.”

“Weird or not – I didn’t mean anything to many people. The nanny cared more than my own husband,” she said. “What have I done with my life, Dec? Look at me – I have no direction, no purpose.”

Shaking his head, he was almost angry that she said such things about herself. It couldn’t be further from the truth. “You couldn’t be more wrong, Lyd. You brought a little boy into the world – you’re a great mom – that’s part of your purpose right there. Getting through this so you can figure out who you want to be – that’s purpose. Putting away a bad man and saving lives by doing so – that’s purpose, and it’s selfless.”

There was comfort in his words and truth that made her shake with emotion because there was more. “My marriage was over a long time ago. Honestly, I don’t know what I was hanging on to. Why I was trying so hard – what I was hoping for. I married a man who didn’t want to be married.”

This was getting to a topic that made Declan uncomfortable and shift in his seat. Being glad that she was realizing this left him feeling guilty, but it also made him feel less guilty for pining for a married woman. “You’re loyal, honest, and wanted to do right by the man you thought was good and worthy of you. He wasn’t, Lydia, not by a long shot.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t miss Esteban. Not at all. I miss my sister, and missing my son is a pain I can’t describe. It feels like I really did lose them. But him? Nothing. What does that mean? What kind of person feels like that?”

After wiping her tears, she stood to head inside for the night, but before she did, she turned and said with a weak smile, “Thank you for helping me tonight.”

Before the door closed behind her, he called out, “Lydia.”

Stopping just inside the back door, she just stood there for a moment before looking over her shoulder at him. “Yeah?”

With his back still to her, he said, “I do like you.”

With a relieved smile, she continued inside, closing the door behind her.

Under his breathe, when he was sure she couldn’t hear, he whispered, “more than I should.”

Lydia woke the next morning to find a bottled water and aspirin sitting on her bedside table. There was a note, from Declan, propped against the bottled water.

Good morning,

I went for a run, be back in a bit. Thought you could use the rest today. Take the aspirin, you’ll thank me later. Don’t go anywhere without me – especially shitty bars.

-Dec

p.s. I left something for you on the back deck.

His attempt at humor left her giggling – it was obviously going to be a long time before she lived that one down. There were no words to express how grateful she was for the water and aspirin. It would be a long time before she could even look at tequila again.

Excited to see what Declan could possibly have left on the back deck, she rushed through the house to find it. It was still early. The town was likely just waking up, so what on earth could he have picked up and left outside of all places. Disappointment struck her when she stepped outside and he wasn’t there waiting.

It was quickly replaced, however, with an overwhelming sense of joy. This man never ceased to amaze her. Sitting in front of her favorite spot was an art easel and blank canvas. To the right sat a small table that held a variety of supplies, all that she would happily use.

A pink bakery box sat just at the corner with a note written on top. These are real food too, kind of like a smoothie. They won’t hydrate you, and they’ll give you pimples, but it’s worth it. I think they are vegan. Okay, they’re not, but we both know that doesn’t matter (remember the bar burger?) – Dec.

Nope, she definitely wasn’t going to live down her weak moment of absolute chaos anytime soon. Grabbing the biggest donut in the box, she sat at her easel and began to create. It felt good to do what she had once loved. It felt good to know there was someone who paid enough attention to know that this was exactly what she needed, when she needed it.

Her heart swelled at the thoughtful gesture. Thinking back, she realized he had to have gone out and got it the day before, prior to her bar debacle. That meant he saw her hurting and wanted to help fix it somehow. For a man of few words, who got hives from emotions, he certainly knew how to mend a broken heart.

She loved to paint but hadn’t in so long. She decided, in that moment, that she wouldn’t stop again. This was the first day of becoming the real Lydia Prescott and all that she was meant to be. She hoped Dec stuck around to help her discover exactly who that was.

Her smile wouldn’t budge, and she couldn’t find a single reason to stop when Declan walked up the back steps of the deck, the intensity of his workout obvious. His sleeveless t-shirt put his enormous biceps on display as the soaked shirt clung to his chest and abdomen, highlighting every chiseled rise and fall of a well-defined body. His sweatpants hung low on his hips and hugged his thighs, leaving her to clench her own together. Especially when her curiosity got the best of her, and she looked at how nicely they hugged his, ummm, groin.

“You like it?” he asked, causing her to choke. “Oh, my God! Are you alright?”

When he reached for her to offer a pat on the back, or something of that nature, but she stopped him where he stood by holding her hand out in front of her. If he laid a hand on her, she would be done for. “I’m good…I’m good. Um, do I like…”

“The easel and canvases. Did I get the right kind of paint?” he asked, completely unaware that she had just been molesting him with her eyes.

“Oh! The paints! Yeah…it’s all so amazing and thoughtful. I love it. I can’t believe you remembered.” Relief washed over her at the realization he was completely unaware, and she was going to keep it that way.

“Your drawings – they reminded me of your art studio. I thought this would give you something to do,” he added.

“Yeah, it’s great. I wanted someone to do – something – you know – something to do.” A palm to the face would have helped hide the embarrassment flooding her cheeks, but it would also draw attention to her current state of mind numbing obsession…a hard, and sweaty Declan.

He was headed inside to shower when he said, “Hey, do you want to get out today? There’s some sort of festival going on, and I heard they even had a beer garden as part of it.”

Her mouth salivated in an undesirable way at the sound of beer. It made her cringe. “I think I’ll pass on the beer, but getting out sounds great.”

“Alright, I won’t be long, we can grab lunch while we’re there.” He said.

“Sounds great. I’ll just finish this part and clean up.”

“Oh, and Lyd?”

She turned and smiled. “Yeah?”

“I saw you looking…” he winked and disappeared inside.

“I…it’s not what you think…Declan…” Sitting all alone now, she really did drop her face to her palm and let out a long drawn noisy sigh.

Spending the afternoon at the town’s Scandinavian themed festival wasn’t all that different from the town’s Farmers Market. The people were dressed in themed clothing, and there were more food booths that were also Scandinavian influenced, except for the one Asian noodle booth. There was always a noodle booth, no matter what type of festival it was or what town you were in – there were noodles.

It was just as lively, and charming, full of must haves and must tries. They taste tested several vendors’ offerings, sharing a plate at each so they would have room for more. It seemed Lydia was exercising selective veganism because she didn’t hesitate to eat whatever was offered, and he was one hundred percent okay with that.

They laughed and enjoyed each other’s company as they explored each booth, gathering only small trinkets and of course more fresh flowers. The flowers were becoming a staple around the house. They enjoyed a variety of pastries along with strawberry lemonade that was available at every stand.

It was a good day, and they were enjoying each other. It was a nice change in pace and would make whatever time they had left together that much easier. He still didn’t talk much, but he smiled more, and that was enough for her.

A small boy, not more than four or five, was sobbing on a street corner. Passersby stepped around him, hardly giving him a notice, but Dec did. He approached the little boy as Lydia watched from across the way – paying for her flowers. He crouched down to eye level and spoke to the boy. She was just out of earshot with all of the noise from the crowd.

Where most people only saw a spoiled child whose parents were probably nearby, Dec saw a little boy in trouble. Her heart warmed when the little guy jumped into Declan’s arms, and he carried him through the crowd with one arm while signaling Lydia with the other, indicating he needed a moment. With a smile and nod, she responded, admiring his gesture.

Forging through the crowd, he nodded and pointed, obviously talking the boy through their search and trying to figure out where he last saw his parents. Not a full city block later, they came across a frantic mother with a distraught father standing in the middle of the street with none other than the deputy sheriff from the night before.

The little boy’s face lit up, and he clapped his hands as he pointed to the crying woman, who had to be his mother. Both joy and relief had crossed over the parents’ matching expressions. Grabbing her little boy and holding him tight, all the woman could say over and over was thank you. She passed the boy to his father and pulled Declan into a rigid, tearful embrace that Declan eventually relaxed into.

After a high five from the boy and handshake from the father, Declan found his way back to Lydia. “Well, that was somethin’.”

“It was wonderful, you did such a good thing when no one else seemed to notice,” she said proudly.

“I guess he was feeding some wayward ducks behind his parents while they paid for something. Before he knew it, or they did, he had followed the birds just a few booths down, losing sight of his folks.”

“Aww. That must’ve been terrifying for him and his parents. You were so good with him, though. Where did you learn how to speak kid?” she laughed.

“I have a niece.” He shouldn’t have said that; the less she knew, the better, but today he just felt like boundaries were less important. They were building something – trust – and they needed that if they were going to get through their circumstance together.

“A niece?” she laughed, “You, with a little girl? How does that work?”

“It’s great. She’s the only kid in the family, so she’s spoiled rotten. Reagan is her name, but we call her ragin’ Reagan. She’s a redhead.”

“Ah ha. A bit sassy?”

“A lot sassy. But she’s a good kid, smart, cute as hell. She doesn’t take any crap either. My parents are from Ireland, so those roots run deep, and she has the fire,” he laughed.

Walking alongside him, she looked up, taking in every word and enjoying a glimpse into this side of him. “That’s very sweet. She’s lucky to have a doting family like that.”

“She hasn’t always been lucky. Her mom died a few years back. It destroyed my brother. We all try to…chip in where we can. She makes it easy.” So much for boundaries. Declan wanted to tell her more, but he feared that he’d already told her too much. It was time to reign it in and get back to business.

Their fun filled afternoon stretched into a delightful evening of getting to know each other, though Declan let her do most of the talking. He wasn’t much for words, but he was a great listener and didn’t miss a single detail.

It all came to a screeching halt when Declan grabbed Lydia’s arm, abruptly stopping them where they stood in the crowd of people. His body stiffened, chest puffed out, and his expression went cold and steely. Lydia hadn’t seen this side of him for days – something was wrong and she felt the cool shiver to her core.

Following his stare, she was unable to detect what had him on high alert. Perhaps the men from the previous night’s bar brawl? Turning quickly on his heels, he pulled her behind him as they disappeared into a nearby alley and began to run at a pace she could barely manage.

“Dec,” she huffed, trying to catch her breath and keep up, “what’s wrong?”

Turning briefly, he saw the fear she was wearing and didn’t want to paralyze her with the truth, “We need to go – just hurry – we need to get to the car.”

Zig zagging from alley to alley, they bounced around from block to block until they finally reached the vehicle. They had made a wide circle on the outside of the town square, landing in the complete opposite direction from where they had stood only a moment before.

A piercing silence hovered over the thick tension that was left in the air. Declan’s jaw was clenched tight; a small muscle pulsed, matching the flex in his muscles. He was fuming, and Lydia didn’t know why.

Pulling in front of the house, Declan came to an abrupt stop, and charged out of the car, barreling straight up the front walkway and into the house. Their quick ride home had felt like an eternity due to the dead air between them. It was nearly painful, going from happy-go-lucky to an eerie distance that reeked of danger or mischief.

His demeanor had become icy and frightening as she followed him inside. He had reverted back to the emotionless body guard she originally knew him to be. Suddenly, she felt alone and afraid.

“Where’s your purse, Lydia?” he asked in an accusing tone.

“I…I didn’t take it with me.” Her quiet, nervous tone did nothing to calm him.

“Damn it, where is your purse?”

With wide eyes full of moisture threatening to spill over, she could hardly speak at an audible level. “Wh-what’s going on? You’re scaring me, Dec.”

He walked closer to her, only inches from her face, and looked down. His heat rolled off of his body and the green of his eyes darkened to a menacing tone – he was angry with her. “Esteban’s men were back there. Two of them, Lydia. Two of his fucking guys are here! How the hell did they find us?”

Rushing to her room, he tossed a jacket that was hanging near the door to the floor, then a folded blanket and pillow from a chair in the corner. He finally found what he was looking for hanging in her empty closet.

Emptying the contents of her purse, on her bed, he rummaged through it

“Declan, what are you… Oh no!” Closing her eyes as the memory came flooding back to her, she began to sob.

It was her fault they were in town. Declan had warned her, and she didn’t listen, and now they were practically on her doorstep. During her previous night’s drunken shenanigans, she had done something. Something horrible.

A step ahead of her, he picked up her oversized wristlet wallet and squeezed it, testing its firmness. When he unzipped it, the cell phone fell out. A cell phone he hadn’t given her.

“Yeah, oh no! They’re fucking here, Lydia. What the hell did you do?” His tone was harsh and condemning, his glare worse.

“I, I barely remember! Let’s see. I went for a run to blow off steam and get my head straight. I ended up in town. I decided to have a couple of cocktails before heading back,” she started.

“A couple of guns for hire don’t show up because of cocktails.” He wasn’t letting her off the hook with this one. She brought danger to their front step.

Pacing back and forth, she kept her eyes to the ground, unable to look at him. She could feel the disappointment in his stare as it was, and she couldn’t bear to see it, too. “I know! I know! I’m trying to remember it all.”

Lydia ran her hands through her hair and let out a deep sigh. She knew exactly what she had done, and now she was just as disappointed in herself as he was in her. Finally ready to face the music, she pulled her shoulders back, held her head high and turned to face him and put it all out there.

“I went into that little drug store. Oh, my God, Dec! I was feeling so sorry for myself. I was missing Trin and Jax so bad – I bought that phone. I used it. Then I went to the bar where you found me.”

“So, you bought a burner phone. Wait, you didn’t start at that bar?” he asked as he scrolled through the call log.

“No. I started at that little pub type place. They cut me off, said I’d had enough.”

“Great, kicked out of the first bar and nearly assaulted and arrested at the second. Who do all these numbers belong to?”

She cringed as she looked over his shoulder and read the numbers, unsure of who she attempted to call during her fit of self-pity. “Umm, Trinity’s cell phone, and both of her landlines in New York. I called my phone to check messages and there weren’t any from…him. He never even tried to find me. Then, I called…Esteban’s cell phone. The one he kept only for me to call on.”

“You called Esteban? Jesus, Lydia, why didn’t you just, I don’t know, send up a bat signal?”

“I’m so sorry. I had been drinking and wasn’t thinking at all. You told me they could find us this way, and I just…just didn’t think.”

“No, you weren’t thinking at all. You could have gotten both of us killed just now. Do you understand that? I was distracted, talking, laughing, I almost didn’t see them! We almost walked right into our own murders!”

He stormed out of the room with the cell phone still in his hand. “We’re leaving. Go get in the other car that’s in the garage. Make sure your bag is in there. We’re leaving now.”

After putting her things back in her purse, she followed him to the kitchen where he pulled a manila envelope from a drawer and began to address it. “What about all of my art stuff, and…”

“Leave it. Leave all of it. We should have already been on the road! Go get in the car!” He put his phone to his ear and tossed her burner phone in the envelope.

Talking into the phone, he said, “We’re on the move – right now – need a clean out – got it.”

He looked up at Lydia, and whispered, “Car!”

With the envelope in hand, he followed her to the garage where their getaway vehicle had been stored since arriving. She could hear his side of the angry phone call. “That’s too late. Now! Make sure you follow them, see if they lead you back to Valdez. I’ll check in in twenty-four.”

He hung up his phone before getting into the car, stuck it in the envelope with the other and sealed it.

When he pulled out onto the street, she watched as their little cottage disappeared behind them. “What about the rest of our stuff, and the other car? Dec, what’s…”

Cutting her off, he answered her question without so much as a look her way. “The team will take care of it.”

On their way out of town, Declan pulled into the post office parking lot, right up to the large blue mailbox at the curb, and dropped the envelope of phones inside. The address read Maine – he was sending their would-be assassins hundreds of miles in the wrong direction.

As if their journey to this point hadn’t been real enough, today’s events became even more so. Guilt overcame her. What had she done?