Chapter One

Outside Denver, Colorado

No one in the history of the world had ever been this nervous at a child’s soccer game. U.S. Deputy Marshal Dane Ryan knew he shouldn’t be here. He’d taken every precaution, but it still wasn’t safe.

Not only was he at risk of being discovered, but he was sure the fake mustache made him look like a 70s porn star.

The mothers sharing the bleachers stared at him and murmured to each other. He was a stranger, and mothers protected their young with a vengeance. Especially from men who looked like they made a living playing the part of Hot Copier Repairman.

The truth was, Dane wasn’t even watching the game in the field where he was seated. His interest was in the game in the neighboring field where the ten-year-olds played with slightly more skill.

His son, Tobey, was number twenty-one. Tobey needed a haircut, and the lace on his left shoe was coming untied. Dane knew all those things, but he didn’t know his son’s favorite flavor of ice cream. Did he really like playing soccer, or did he feel obligated to join because his friends did?

At the other field Dane’s wife, Caroline, sat next to her new husband, Randy, and cheered for their son’s team. Technically, she was still his wife. Not his ex-wife. Although, since she’d been told he died in a fire, he couldn’t blame her for moving on with her life. Legally, their marriage ended when his death certificate was filed five years ago.

Five years ago, when David Ryan ceased to exist, and Dane Ryan was born from the ashes.

Just then, Tobey scored a goal, and Dane yelled out. “Good job!”

Except, at the field where he was seated there was a time out for a crying child.

Shit.

He gauged the spectators. The lionesses were uneasy. He should go. This was too risky. Worse, it was becoming a habit.

He’d stayed away from his old life for years, but recently, while on medical leave recovering from being shot in the leg, he’d become restless.

Restlessness had given way to curiosity, and curiosity—along with a strong wave of missing what he’d lost—had brought him here. Three times.

It wasn’t healthy. This wasn’t his life anymore. He’d given it up so Tobey and Caroline would be safe. So they wouldn’t have to uproot their lives and start over because of his mistake.

One of the women had pulled out her phone and had it pointed in his direction.

Time to go.

With one last look at his son running down the field, Dane let out a sigh and slid out of his seat. He needed to leave before his photo ended up all over Facebook. No doubt these women would recognize him if he came back. Which meant he couldn’t come back.

He’d tried to stay away but hadn’t been able to. Now he had a compelling reason.

He was dead. It was time to start acting like it.

His leg was stiff from sitting for so long, and the dampness from the late-April day didn’t help much. The familiar pain throbbed though his left thigh as he limped away.

He paused behind a tree to see Tobey run over to Caroline and Randy. It was obvious his son was happy and loved. That was all Dane needed to know.

It was time to move on.

This time for real.