Sunday, July 25. 12:07 p.m. Newlands, a northern suburb in Wellington, New Zealand.

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At first Ana had only felt a hammer of fear beating out a disjointed rhythm through her body. The moment she saw the men at that table, the stench of cigarette smoke and the faint yeasty smell of spilled beer wafting in the breeze, she’d recognized the danger. She’d defended men like them before many times in court, and a man like them had plunged a knife into Neil’s body until his blood had pooled on the bar’s grimy floor.

So at first there was only fear. Fear neatly escalating to terror as she had fumbled to remove the bottle of window cleaner from the side of the backpack, all the time trying to keep her movements hidden from the men in front of them. Thankful now she’d humored Mrs. Wilcox by packing it, the bottle bounced on her hip as she ran.

When Daniel charged, her knee-jerk reaction was to ignore his order and to charge with him. In that moment she wanted to kick, punch, and scratch any part of the men she could get her nails on but some sliver of logic stilled her feet. Four lowlifes against one man and one small but super-pissed-off woman, the probability was high it wouldn’t go in their favor. Three or two against one, if she could draw at least one of them away from Daniel, left them with a better chance of getting away alive.

She’d snatched her backpack off the ground and sprinted back the way they’d come, hoping there was some truth in what the head lowlife said—that they really did want their supplies. At the same time she stretched open her mouth and screeched like a cat with its tail caught in a slamming door. Drawing breath for another scream, she heard footsteps pounding across the hard earth after her. The row of trees at the park boundary shivered in the breeze, growing in size as she raced toward them.

She shoved her hand into her jacket pocket and wrapped her fist around the plastic bottle, resting her finger on the trigger. She slowed her legs a fraction until she estimated—and hoped like hell—her pursuer had nearly caught up.

One shot at this was all she’d get.

Stopping abruptly, she pivoted on her front foot in a pirouette en dehors that her old ballet teacher would have applauded, and she sent silent thanks heavenward to her mother who’d made her attend classes as a child. The momentum of the turn flung the backpack in her hand into the stomach of the scrawny man in black, who was only steps behind her. His breath exploded out as the impact doubled him over. When he looked up, Ana was ready with a blast of window cleaner scoring a bull’s-eye hit in his eyes.

He dropped to his knees, coughing and retching, his hands frantically slapping at his face. Ana didn’t hesitate. She lined up her foot as though practicing goal-kicking with Theo and booted him in the nuts. The man howled and collapsed sideways into a fetal position.

“Never mess with a soccer mum, dickhead.”

Ana’s gaze swung back across the grass to find Daniel. The climbing frame blocked her view, but that worked both ways, hiding her from the other men. She yanked down the backpack zipper and grabbed the first can of food she put her hand on. With the sum weapons total of window cleaner and a large tin of baked beans, she sprinted back toward the climbing frame.

Her breath wheezed in and out, more from nerves than exertion, as she took momentary shelter behind the wooden structure. The whole thing was so surreal, as nightmare-like as Friday’s earthquake. She risked a quick peek around the corner.

Daniel and the two others, the Arnold Schwarzenegger wannabe and the asshat who’d threatened her, circled each other. The other man sprawled on the grass. He appeared to be unconscious, his mouth gaped open and a line of scarlet trickled from the corner.

Ana couldn’t work up an iota of sympathy. Blood dripped in a steady stream from Daniel’s nose, but the tension in her body eased slightly when she caught the look on his face. Unbelievably, he was grinning. Though it was more a case of him baring his teeth because he looked ferociously angry.

Know how you feel, Farm Boy.

Ana dropped the plastic bottle since she didn’t intend to get close enough to the remaining two men to use it. The element of surprise had gone. Tossing the tin of baked beans in her hand, she weighed it speculatively and thought of the years spent lobbing balls of various sizes back and forth with Theo and Neil. These days Alyssa wanted to join in the game, her chubby fingers more often than not failing to grasp the colorful ball that Theo would toss to her. Thinking of Theo and Alyssa knotted her stomach with cords that tightened around her heart in a strangling grip.

She could see Theo rolling his eyes and saying, “Don’t be such a girl, Mum. Throw it.”

Ana stepped out from behind the climbing frame. She aimed for the center of the broad back of the thug closest to her. She was counting on it distracting him long enough to give Daniel an advantage. Pretending she was sending a cricket ball hurtling toward the wickets, she hurled the can at the target with all her body weight behind it.

The metal ends of the can winked and flashed as it spun though bright ribbons of sunlight. The man either sensed it coming or read the change in Daniel’s body language. He turned halfway toward her and the can smacked with a dull clunk into the side of his forehead. Staggering, he clapped a meaty hand to his temple, blood oozing out between his fingers.

The next few seconds chased each other in a blur. Daniel threw himself across the grass, tackling the uninjured thug to the ground. The man she’d hit roared obscenities, stumbled, then lurched after her. Distant voices came from the direction of the park entrance but if she ran she risked the big guy chasing her.

Ana grabbed the window cleaner and an empty beer bottle that had rolled against wooden slats. She shimmied up the side of the climbing frame and crossed over the swing bridge, high enough to be out of reach of the man below. He squinted at her through bloodied fingers with a bewildered frown. Looking back over his shoulder to where Daniel’s fist was colliding with his mate’s jaw, the man shuffled his feet, obviously unsure of what to do without further instructions.

“You’d better get out of here,” she said. “People are coming.”

He put his hand on the climbing frame, smearing blood over the weathered wood. “You hit me, bitch.” He spat a wad of red-tinted saliva onto the dirt.

She brandished the beer bottle in front of her. “Listen, you pumped-up dung ball, you may be bigger than me, but I’m faster, a hell of a lot meaner, and mad enough to slice off the part of you that could propagate your family tree someday.”

Ana thought his ruddy complexion temporarily lost some color, but it might have been his peripheral vision catching sight of Daniel stalking toward him. He took off in the opposite direction in a shambling lope.

Daniel spared a glance at Jonno sprawled behind him on the grass, nursing a split lip and likely two black eyes since the man fought like a bar brawler. He’d gotten in a few lucky punches, unlike his lumbering bodyguard who was slower than a wet week, and it’d almost seemed unsportsmanlike to put Soul Patch down so easily. But he had, because the fourth guy was after Ana, and Daniel didn’t have time to fuck around.

Muscles, not so brave without his mates, continued to make a run for it and Daniel let him go. Ana was his only concern now. And there she was, flushed and breathing like a racehorse, on top of the climbing frame with a beer bottle still clenched in her fist.

So damn fierce. So damn idiotically brave.

He swiped another trickle of blood from his nose with the back of his hand and strode over to meet her, standing below her at the frame.

“I hope you haven’t killed them.” Ana’s voice shook as she slumped down on the wooden platform, dangling her knees over the edge. “I don’t work defense cases anymore, so I can’t get you off.”

Wrapping his fingers around her calf, he squeezed lightly and said nothing, because he didn’t trust himself to speak. He was that wired. That close to the edge of losing the plot completely. What the hell had she been thinking coming back?

“No. I didn’t kill them.” He pitched his voice low, kept the fear and fury in it whittled down to a honed blade. “I didn’t think about one of them chasing you when I told you to run. I’m sorry.”

Her calf muscles clenched under his hands. “Don’t apologize. I wanted one of them to come after me. I thought it would even the odds a bit. With a face full of Mrs. Wilcox’s cleaner and a kick in the balls, he’ll think twice about attacking someone next time.”

She’d wanted the son of a bitch to chase her? Then fought him?

“Ana.” He took a step away from her and rubbed his hand roughly over his face. He studied the blood that slicked his palm. Then he looked at her again, with her head cocked to one side, her brows drawn in a slight frown. “That asshole wasn’t going to tap you on the shoulder and shout, ‘Tag, you’re it.’”

“Of course he wasn’t. I knew that.”

“Then why did you stop when I told you to run? It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a goddamned order.”

Bellowing in the roar that motivated soldiers to try harder. Watching Jodie hesitate at the bottom of the six-foot wall. “Get your ass up there, Private.” Her running jump, the hesitation at the top, her limbs flailing, the realization, his body lunging, the thwack on hard-packed earth, and Jodie screaming. Too late.

“Dammit, Jodie.” The words ripped from his gut. “I mean, Ana.”

Ana slid down from the climbing frame to stand in front of him. Her eyes glittered. “Who’s Jodie?”

His gut twisted, and for the first time he couldn’t meet her gaze. “No one I want to talk about at the moment.”

His temper, after reaching flashpoint, simmered down to a slow boil. “Those bastards weren’t playing around. I told you to run and you shouldn’t have come back.” He met her gaze with a flat, hard stare. A stare honed to perfection from years of instructing sometimes rebellious recruits. “You promised before we left your building you’d follow my orders.”

“I’m not one of your soldiers. Like hell would I run away and leave you to them.”

Daniel flicked a hand behind him. “I think I handled it.”

She cocked her eyebrow and gave him what he guessed was her best Ice Lawyer glare. “Guess I’ll have to stop calling you Farm Boy after you went all commando on me.”

The unintended word choice pierced through his remaining anger and shot a bubble of humor into his gut.

Daniel bit back a chuckle but couldn’t stop the smile twitching his lips. “Commando?” A snort escaped when he remembered what else he’d heard her yelling at the thug. In light of the last few terrifying minutes, laughter suddenly seemed like the perfect antidote. “Cut off his family tree.”

Ana stalked forward, her cheeks pink and her hands clenched. “Are you laughing at me?”

Daniel showed her his palms, feeling a huge grin stretch his cheeks. Was she about to throw a right hook? God, but she made him want to kiss that frown right off her luscious mouth. The urge nearly felled him, catching him off guard and raw. Words tumbled out of his mouth without his brain censoring his emotions.

“Just a little.” His lips brushed across hers in a whispering caress, the pressure of her parted mouth there and gone in an instant. “It’d be so easy to fall for you, Ana Grace.”

Then a small crowd of would-be rescuers hurried around the climbing frame and Daniel turned toward them.