The call—as her bodyguards called it—hit Lucas Trammel’s cell phone just after noon. The buzzing wrenched Becca’s attention from the book she’d borrowed from Emma’s library, and was trying to read, which was harder than normal since she only had one arm available for balancing.

She frowned, catching Tram’s sudden tension, as he listened intently. Something was going down. Something serious. Cuddles must have picked up on it too. The small dog stirred in her lap, then sat up, glancing anxiously at Tram, who was stretched out in the recliner across from the couch. Suddenly, the dog’s thin body started to quake.

“Hey,” Becca crooned. Setting the book down on the couch, she ran a soothing hand down the animal’s rigid spine. “It’s okay. Everything is fine.”

Although from the way Trammel jackknifed up, and the sudden tension in his previously relaxed muscles, fine wasn’t the correct adjective.

“On our way,” Tram said into his phone. His gaze settled on Becca, with glittering intensity. “Yeah, Tag’s with me. We’ll be there.” He lowered his cell and glanced at Tag, who was sprawled out on the couch across from Becca while perusing a magazine. “Wheels up in two.”

“Ah, hell.” Tag tossed the copy of Tactical Weapons down on the coffee table, dropped his propped-up feet and stood to stretch. “Should have known we’d get the call.”

“What’s going on?” Becca asked, watching Tag rotate his shoulders and shake out his arms.

“We’ve been called in.” Tag turned to look at her, his gaze darkening with concern. “You’ll need a new bodyguard detail.”

“Hey, Rio,” Tram said, the cell phone plugged back to his ear. “We have to roll. Just got the call. Yeah, an hour.” He listened for a moment, nodding. “I’ll leave the Jeep for you. I can catch a ride with Tag.” He nodded again. “Sure, I’ll tell her. Do you need a list of go to guys? Okay. See you on the flip side.” He lowered his arm and looked at Becca. “He wants you to sit tight. He’s on his way over.”

“Okay.” Becca rose to her feet, cradling Cuddles in the crook of her good arm. The dog started shaking harder than ever.

She followed the two men over to the foyer, where Tag picked up a black duffle bag tucked in the corner next to the front door. Trammel disappeared into the master bedroom, only to reemerge with an identical canvas bag, but in gray rather than black. As Tag disappeared through the front door, Trammel turned to Becca.

“Lock the door behind us. Don’t open it for anyone but Rio or Emma.” He paused, scanned her face and his gaze softened. “You’ll be fine. Nobody but Rio and Emma know you’re here.” He ran a broad hand over Cuddles’s head and around her jaw to scratch her chin. “Take care of Emma for me, you hear?”

The comment had been addressed to the dog, which it seemed to understand since it stretched its topknotted head and licked Tram’s chin.

“Try to stay safe,” Becca said and immediately chastised herself. Of course, he’d try to stay safe. He certainly wasn’t going to purposely get himself killed, now was he? What a worthless catchphrase.

His smile was lopsided and understanding. “Always.” He frowned, hesitated, before sighing. “Do me a favor and hang around for a couple days. Keep Emma company. The first few days after we go wheels up is always the hardest. Emma will need a distraction.”

Becca’s chest tightened and ached. All it took to imagine how Emma would react to the news was remembering back to Rio’s looming deployment twelve years ago.

She’d been terrified. Emma probably would be too.

Tram took her silence as assent. “Thanks.”

He turned, taking the porch stairs in one leap, and followed Tag across the lawn.

With his warning ringing in her ears, Becca closed and locked the door before the two men had even reached Taggart’s car. And then she was alone, the empty house pressing silently against every nerve in her body.

It was weird how alone she suddenly felt. How unprotected, the weight of the house’s cavernous silence almost suffocating as it poured over her. Good lord, you’d think she hadn’t spent the past twelve years alone and on her own.

Luckily she had Cuddles to comfort, which took her mind off the hollowness surrounding her. The dog had added whining to her shaking. Could it possibly know the danger its owner was headed into? Or at least one of its owners?

It didn’t take long for Becca to adjust to the sudden silence. Although, quite honestly, Cuddles helped enormously with that. With the dog curled in her lap, its noisy breathing whistling in and out, filling the quiet with audible evidence that she wasn’t alone, Becca was able to relax enough to return to the book she’d been reading before Trammel had gotten the call.

She needed to investigate getting a dog when she returned home. The right breed would make a great therapy or comfort dog, too. Maybe a Golden Retriever, or—her gaze dropped to Cuddles who had gone back to dozing in her lap—she could rescue a dog from the pound. Cuddles had certainly turned out to be an angel.

An angel who would have died if not for Emma’s warm heart.

By the time the knock struck the door, Becca’s heart rate and respiration had stabilized. At least until Cuddles jolted awake and rocketed to the door, bombarding it with a deep-throated barks and growls.

Approaching the entryway cautiously, she leaned over Cuddles’s vibrating body to look out the peep hole. Rio’s chiseled face stared back at her. The dog’s growling slowed and then stopped as Becca unlocked the two deadbolts, and the lock on the handle.

Before opening the door, Becca bent to scoop Cuddles up. No sense in allowing the dog to escape outside. She stepped back and to the side as Rio entered the tiny foyer. The house that had felt empty and hushed seconds earlier suddenly felt brimming with life and intensity.

“I’ll be damned. The little rat knows how to bark after all.” Rio dropped an approving look on the animal.

After closing the door, Rio turned to Becca, scanning her face intently, before his gaze dropped to her bandaged shoulder. “How you doing? Any problems?”

“I’m good.” She tried for a light tone, even as her throat tightened at the concern in his eyes.

She didn’t remember ever seeing that emotion from him before. Desire, sure. Frustration, oh yeah. Anger, plenty of times. But never concern. At least not for her.

He gave her a slight smile, regret touching his face. “I’m sorry about leaving you high and dry like that. I’ve got calls out to some of the guys. We’ll get you another crew. Until then, you’ll have to make do with me.”

She almost told him not to worry about it. That she could hire another bodyguard detail through Detective Wilbanks. But he hadn’t liked that suggestion when she’d made it previously, and she didn’t want to rupture this new ease between them.

So she smiled back at him instead. “That works for me.”

He walked behind her on their way back to the living room, the heat his big body shed bathing her in moist warmth and hormonal tingles. And his scent…

Good God.

She drew a deep breath, filling her lungs with his spicy scent and almost asphyxiated herself when her lungs refused to release the breath.

When they reached the couch, Rio bent to pick up her mother’s journal from the coffee table. He flipped to the last page and offered the diary to her. “Did you ever see your mom wearing this necklace?”

Becca set Cuddles down and took the journal, running her fingers lightly over the sketch. “No. It’s beautiful though, isn’t it? I’m going to have it made.”

Rio frowned. “So you’ve never seen it, other than the sketch?”

“No. Just in Mom’s journal.” She cocked her head, studying him with curiosity. “Why?”

He hesitated, before shrugging. “Because your half-sister is wearing it in her engagement photo.”

Becca jolted at the news, shock buzzing through her. Her mind went fuzzy. “What? Are you sure?”

No wonder he’d been so curious about the sketch, returning to it time and time again.

He grunted. “Yeah. I went to Adele’s place this morning—to ask some questions. She has a framed copy of her engagement photo. She was wearing the necklace in the photo.”

“You’re certain it’s the same necklace?”

“It’s identical.” His voice was quiet, but certain.

How in the world had Adele ended up with the pendant in her mom’s diary? “Did she say where she got it?”

“From her mother. It was apparently a gift during the engagement party.”

“Lena,” Becca breathed. “Lena had it.”

“That’s what Adele said. Lena told her it was an old family heirloom.” He paused, a hard edge to his gaze. “We need to find out whether your mother ever wore that pendant. Whether it belonged to her first.”

We…he said we.

Warmth nudged aside some of the numbness brought on by shock.

“Okay.” She frowned. “How do we do that?”

“We ask Hilde, and anyone else who was around the estate, or knew your mother back then.” He paused, scanned her from head to foot, his gaze assessing. “You feel up to paying Hilde another visit?”

“Sure.” Although a flurry of nerves goosebumped her skin. Her last venture outside the walls had included three bodyguards. Although she still had Rio to protect her, dropping from three guards to one was a bit unsettling.

Not that she was going to complain. She’d much prefer having Rio by her side, even if it was outside these four walls, than roaming the house on her own, waiting for him to return from his visit to Hilde. Plus this way she’d know immediately what he found out.

Taking care not to jar her injured shoulder, Rio bundled her back into the bullet proof vest she’d worn during her last foray outside and hustled her out the door and down to Tram’s Jeep. She couldn’t help noticing that his eyes were constantly on the move, scanning the street and shrubbery, or checking out passing cars. He was taking his bodyguard designation seriously.

He installed her in the passenger seat before settling behind the wheel and starting the engine.

“Why did you go see Adele?” she asked, as the Jeep pulled away from the curb.

Although she suspected she knew why. He was a cop, a detective, with memories of her that were less than positive. He’d check her story out. Make sure she hadn’t been lying the night before.

She should have expected such a response from him, which made the knot of hurt tightening her chest a foolish reaction.

“I wanted to find out whether she remembered her parents arguing about your mom.” He glanced away from the road long enough to shoot her a quick glance. “Did you inherit anything from your dad’s estate?”

She shook her head, the knot easing. It didn’t sound like he’d gone to Adele to verify what Becca had told him happened at the party.

“I didn’t even know he’d died. Not until I contacted your department and asked to have mom’s case reopened. When the request was denied, I called the house, hoping dad might have some influence on your department. The woman who answered the phone told me he’d passed away.” She stared sightlessly out the window, remembering the icy blast of shock at the news.

His birthday cards had stopped coming years earlier, but she hadn’t thought much of it. It hadn’t even occurred to her that nobody would contact her if he died. She should have checked in sooner. She should have let go of the past and reached out to her father while she’d had a chance.

A whisper of grief echoed through her.

Too late now.

He must have heard the hollowness in her voice, because he sent her a sympathetic glance. “That’s pure bullshit on their part. You should have been informed. Hell, you should have shared in his estate.” He took a left and merged with the oncoming traffic. “Any chance you challenged his will when you found out he’d died?”

“I don’t think he had much estate. The money came from Lena’s relatives.”

He shrugged. “You didn’t check?”

“No. It wasn’t worth the stress.”

The strangest look of satisfaction crossed his face.

What the heck was that about?

He gifted her with an approving smile before turning his attention back to the road. “I figured as much.”

They chatted amicably during the rest of the trip, the new-found ease between them stronger than ever. On arrival at Hilde’s facility, he parked in the same spot they’d parked before.

“Hang on a minute.” He picked up her mother’s diary, shoved open the driver’s door and jogged around the hood of the Jeep. After opening her door, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Once clear of the car, she expected him to drop her hand, but he didn’t. “Stay close.”

His murmur was so close his breath tickled her ear, setting off an avalanche of quivers. That, combined with his hot hand clasping hers, brought the sudden explosion of heat and goosebumps to a full boil. It was almost enough to distract her from the fact she was out in the open, fully visible to anyone who might want to take a shot at her.

By the time they reached the entry to the facility, the wild gallop of her heart had as much to do with her vulnerability as his nearness. And then they were through the door and the safety of walls closed around her, calming the urgent beat of her heart.

Even then he refused to let go of her hand. Instead, he tugged her closer, until they were walking hip to hip, their clothing brushing with each step. She might be mistaken, but every signal he shed indicated he wanted to resume their long-ago intimacy. Did she want the same?

She wasn’t sure. The attraction was still there. The chemistry. Her body responded to his like there had been no lapse in time. But that wasn’t enough these days. She was older. Wiser. Mature enough to know that the flash of fire burned out much too quickly without the steady burn of love and trust.

They found Hilde in the facility's lounge, a recliner swallowing her tiny frame. She dozed in front of the muted rumble of the television, her white head periodically bobbing. They pulled a couple of plastic chairs up to the recliner.

After seating herself, Becca leaned over to gently shake the old woman’s brittle shoulder. “Hilde. It’s me, Becca.”

Hilde came awake slowly, staring blankly into Becca’s face, while dreams wreathed her faded eyes. Slowly, heartbeat by heartbeat, her gaze sharpened, as awareness replaced the dazed look.

“Be—?” She cleared the crackle from her throat and tried again. “Becca? Is that you dear?”

“Yes, it’s me.” Becca scooted forward in her chair and reached for the translucent hands. “A couple more questions came up. I hope you don’t mind that we stopped by without calling first.”

“Of course not.” A weak but heartfelt smile stretched the pale lips. “It does this old heart good to see your beautiful face.” The stone-washed gaze swept Becca’s features and sorrow replaced the smile. “You look so much like your mother. It’s startling, indeed it is.”

Becca carefully squeezed the fragile hands. She needed to find the time to visit again before leaving San Diego. Hilde was hovering there on the cusp of life and death. She wouldn’t be around for much longer.

Rio lifted and wiggled Rachel Blaine’s journal, a silent reminder of why they’d come. After flipping to the last page and the pendant, he held the sketch in front of Hilde’s face.

“Mrs. Birkeland, do you remember seeing Rachel Blaine wearing this necklace?”

The old woman pulled her hands from Becca’s grip and slowly reached for the journal.

“Why, yes. She wore it constantly those last few days. Called it her engagement ring.” A slow shake of her head sent her platinum hair shimmering. “She was so happy. I’d never seen her so happy.”

Becca tensed, chills coursing through her. Her mother had worn the necklace? Why didn’t she remember it? There was so much about that day she’d wiped from her memory. Was the necklace one of those things?

“Her engagement ring?” Becca echoed. She kept her voice quiet, calm, not wanting to disrupt Hilde’s memories.

Hilde nodded. The look she turned on Becca was sheathed in grief. “Yes. It was a promise, I suppose. An indication of his intentions. Your father gave it to her the day he told her he was asking for a divorce. The day he asked Rachel to marry him.”

Becca frowned, thinking back to their conversation with Hilde the day before. “So, he gave it to her just before she died?”

“I believe so, yes,” Hilde said, with another slow nod. “The morning she died, Rachel showed me the inscription he’d etched into the back of the pendant. Love Always. Forever.”

Well that explained why the necklace had been the last journal entry. Her mother had died soon afterward.

“You’re certain—absolutely certain—that Rachel Blaine was wearing that necklace the day she died?”

The sharpness in Rio’s voice captured Becca’s attention, but it took her a moment to realize the significance of his question.

She froze, ice sinking deep and wide as the dots connected. If her mother had been wearing that necklace the morning of her death, and the necklace had ended up in Lena Hart’s jewelry box and then around Adele’s neck—then someone in the Hart family had taken that pendant from her mother at some point during the last hours of her life.

The question was, had her mother been alive or dead during the theft.