Bass sat under Carrie’s window, pulling a shift in the courtyard, watching the light in her room go off. Then on for a half hour or so. Then off again. She couldn’t sleep either, huh?
What the hell was he doing? He knew better than to get involved with her. Even if it had become clear she wasn’t part of the kidnapping plot, it still was a lousy idea to get involved with any woman, given his line of work.
As the night aged and cooled, he occupied himself with trying to imagine a hypothetically normal life with Carrie. Being a cop might even become just a job. Something he left at the office at the end of the workday. If he had a family to go home to, maybe he could finally learn to set aside the cases, even if just for a few hours every day.
The Navy’s psychologists told him he was too invested in his work. That he should get a hobby and have a real social life. Hell, he spent hours and hours restoring cars, didn’t he? That counted, didn’t it? Although it was a pursuit he did alone. It didn’t exactly check the having a social life box. Carrie was what the shrinks were talking about. A living, breathing, walking, talking human being to spend time with.
He did enjoy being with her. She was witty and sweet, and they fit together in bed—both physically and emotionally.
Even if she were to agree to give up her nomadic lifestyle and settle down in New Orleans, could he give up his obsession with his work? Could he walk away from being a superhero out to save the world?
The very thought gave him the heebie-jeebies. His entire adult life had been spent doing one thing—chasing bad guys. Was he even capable of sustaining a long-term relationship of the romantic variety?
More to the point, did he want to find out?
He knew as well as any shrink that the only way to answer the question would be to try. Carrie was exactly the kind of woman he would want to try with if he ever did go for it and dive into a deep, meaningful relationship...with one glaring exception, of course.
He would never, ever, be able to trust a woman who couldn’t—who wouldn’t—tell him her real name.
An ugly sensation nibbled at his gut, and it took him a while sitting in the shadowed corner of the garden to identify it. Fear. Not the pulse-pounding, adrenaline-induced, about-to-die terror that happened in the field if a guy wasn’t properly trained or if a hostile got the jump on him.
No, this fear was a great deal more insidious. It crept through his skin and wormed its way into his gut, coiling like a snake waiting to strike.
Surely he wasn’t this terrified of a little thing like Carrie Price.
Which was, of course, an evasion from the truth. He wasn’t scared of Carrie. He was scared to death of how she made him feel.
Feelings got in the way of doing the job, of catching the bad guy and solving the crime. Hell, they got in the way of pretty much everything. Life was so much simpler without a bunch of messy feelings cluttering up the works.
Dawn was just starting to lighten the sky in the east to dull gray when his cell phone buzzed. Who was calling him at this time of night? It was a police number. “Detective LeBlanc.”
“Sorry to bug you, sir, but Homicide has a body that roughly matches the description of your missing TV show guy.”
“Where’s the body now?”
“Washed up on the north shore of the Mississippi. We can wait for the medical examiner to compare dental records and run DNA, but I thought it might be faster if you came down and took a look. Corpse still has a face. Fish didn’t get it, yet.”
That was a small silver lining on some potentially very bad news. He radioed the SEAL due to come on watch in an hour and asked him to come downstairs early. As soon as the guy arrived, Bass bugged out and headed for his Hummer. It was a short drive with no traffic to where the body had been found.
He jumped out at the edge of a cordon of crime scene tape, ducking under it to join a cluster of cops and crime scene investigators standing around a blue tarp draped over a bulging shape.
“Hey, Bass. Thanks for coming down to peek at our dead guy.”
“No problem. Thanks for the call.” He knelt down and lifted the corner of the tarp to peer at the body.
Homicide detectives vowed that they eventually became immune to looking at dead and disfigured bodies, but he had yet to develop that tough hide. Sure, he’d seen corpses in his military work. But those were casualties of conflict for the most part.
Setting aside the twisting tightness in his gut, he studied the bloated, waterlogged features. He even pulled out the folded picture of Gary Hubbard that he kept tucked in his jacket pocket to compare it to the corpse.
“Not my guy,” he announced. “You’ve got a John Doe on your hands.”
“Damn. I was hoping this would be an easy one,” the detective in charge muttered. To the medical examiner standing by patiently, the detective said, “Bag him and tag him, boys. John Doe.”
Bass chatted with the homicide guys for a few minutes, making nice. He’d made no secret of wanting a transfer into the elite division, and the homicide guys seemed interested in him, too. He’d finished his master’s degree in criminology a few months back and now had all the prerequisites to transfer over.
“Sorry to drag you out of bed so early, LeBlanc,” the chief inspector told him cheerfully.
“No worries. I was on a stakeout anyway. Sorry I couldn’t help you.”
The cop slapped Bass on the shoulder and strolled back to the crime scene.
Bass pointed his vehicle toward the B&B, arriving in the middle of an uproar. “What the hell’s going on?” he demanded.
The guy he’d left on the watch explained, “Carrie snuck out of the house on us. She’s gone.”
“How the hell did that happen?” Bass exclaimed. “We’re supposed to have eyes on her twenty-four seven!”
One of the other SEALs stood his ground. “Our perimeter was set up with an eye to keeping bad guys out, not to keeping good guys in.”
Bass cursed, furious with his men and furious with himself that he hadn’t seen this coming. He knew she was a runner.
“When did she leave?” he asked tersely.
“Best guess is she slipped out right behind you. It would explain why we didn’t think anything of the motion detectors alerting. We thought they were you. The sound of your Hummer must’ve masked the sound of her van.”
She had about an hour’s head start on him, then. Where would she go in the early hours of the morning? Knowing her, she would go back to her place to get her stuff before she left town. She didn’t carry much, but it was all she had in the world. It would be important to her.
“I’m heading over to her place. Call me if you hear anything at all.”
“Maybe call the police and have them search the traffic cameras for her van?” one of the SEALs asked.
“I could, but the department may not have the resources to do it if they’re tracking someone else already.” Besides, it wasn’t the NOPD’s job to pick up the slack because his SEALs had gotten tricked by a lone civilian female with no covert training whatsoever.
He raced outside and jumped in his Hummer, pointing it at her place. It was about a fifteen-minute drive, and he chewed on his irritation at her for bolting the whole time. She had to quit running away on him like this!
He pulled up in front of her residence, relieved to see that the media wasn’t camping out there anymore. They’d moved their stalking operation over to the B&B.
He jogged up the stairs to the third floor and banged on her door. No answer. Not that silence meant anything. She could just as easily be hiding in there, waiting for him to go away. Ticked off now, he ran downstairs and had a look in the garage. Empty. She wasn’t here.
Swearing, he strode back to his Hummer. Where in the hell was she? Surely, she knew better than to leave town and risk being jailed for impeding a police investigation. He slammed himself into the seat and revved the engine angrily. Did she hate him so much that she’d felt a need to sneak away from him?
A kernel of betrayal poked at his heart, hurting like a pebble under his bare foot. What the hell made her run? What had changed since last night? She had seemed perfectly willing to continue down this path of investigation, helping him draw out the treasure-hunters after Gary’s secret.
He pulled up in front of his place, dismayed to see the security gate still hanging from one hinge where he’d left it when he blasted through the gate three nights ago. He’d selfishly hoped his SEAL buddies might have been able to get it repaired by now. Of course, none of them were trained welders, and it could take a few days to get a skilled wrought-iron worker to make a house call.
He pulled up to his garage and spied a taillight sticking out from behind the metal building. Reaching beneath his seat, he pulled out a pistol and chambered a round. Easing the door open, he moved fast and silently toward the corner of the building. Slowly, he peered past the corner.
Sonofa—
Carrie’s van. What the hell was she doing here? He moved up beside the driver’s window and threw open the door. She lurched inside, screaming a little.
“Jeez, Bass. Are you determined to scare me to death?”
“You’re the one parked suspiciously behind my house. What are you doing here?”
“I left Mr. Paddles here.”
He frowned. “Mr. Who?”
“Paddles. Mr. Paddles. My turtle. He and I have been through a lot together over the years. No way could I leave him behind.”
“Leave him? You planning on going somewhere?”
“Oh. Uhh. Yeah.”
“You do remember that I told you not to leave town, right?”
“Well, umm, of course I remember.” A pause, then she said in a rush, “But I thought that was more of a suggestion than an order.”
“You thought wrong. If you leave New Orleans, I’ll arrest you and drag you back here. You’re a material witness in an ongoing investigation. You may not leave the city.”
“Oh.” She frowned, obviously thinking hard. “But I still need Mr. Paddles back.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s mine! I’ve had him as long as I can remember.”
It was more than a little tragic that her only friend in the world was a stuffed turtle. His initial impulse was to feel sorry for her. She was a genuinely likable person who, if she would just stand still for a little while, would have plenty of friends.
In the meantime she sounded jittery, and she was acting jumpy. “What’s wrong, Carrie? What happened? Why did you leave Amelie’s house so secretively?”
“Well, obviously I didn’t want to be stopped.”
He rolled his eyes as he unlocked the big door and waved her into the garage. She parked the van and climbed out reluctantly.
As he methodically searched the garage, he picked up their conversation where they’d left off. “Why exactly did you run this time?”
“I had to get away.”
“Thanks for that answer, Miss Obvious.”
He entered the code for his home’s front door and activated the biometric scanner. She slid past him into his living room, and he flipped on the lights. Only when she’d returned from his bedroom carrying the ratty stuffed sea turtle did he plant his feet wide, cross his arms, and ask evenly, “Why did you have to get away, Carrie?”
“Personal reasons.”
“What personal reasons?”
“Sheesh, give it a break. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I do.”
“Tough,” she declared stoutly.
He had to give her credit. None of his men would dare to cross him when he was scowling at them like he was scowling at her right now. “Carrie, don’t push me,” he warned her.
“Then don’t push me.”
“Look. I’m done with your secrets and evasions. You can tell me right now what the hell’s going on with you, or I’m going to find out for myself. I’ve requested the file of your court case to change your name in Idaho three years ago. Within the next day or so, I’m going to have your real name.”
She gasped in dismay, but he pressed ahead, well and truly ticked off. “And then, so help me God, I’m digging up every last bit of information there is on you. I’ll know the name of your kindergarten teacher, and every person you ever knew. Hell, I’ll know who gave you your first kiss.”
She stared at him in undisguised horror. “You can’t do that,” she whispered.
He took two long strides to bring himself chest to chest with her. He loomed menacingly over her, taking advantage of every single inch of height he had on her. “I can, and I will.”
She wilted all at once, her face crumpling and the tears coming freely. He was so angry that her crying didn’t move him in the slightest. He was sick and tired of this cat-and-mouse crap with Carrie. It stopped now.
* * *
Carrie paced Bass’s living room, too agitated to stand still. This was exactly why she’d run away from the bed-and-breakfast. She knew he would react like this if she told him she had to leave New Orleans. That she had to flee before her past caught up with her. He would demand to know everything. Everything she’d never told anyone else. Everything she barely acknowledged to herself about who she was and where she’d come from.
“Don’t make me ask again, Carrie.”
“What will you do to me if I refuse to answer you?”
“I’ll place you under arrest and put you in jail until that case file comes through and I can investigate every aspect of your life.”
“You can’t do that!” she exclaimed.
“If I deem you a flight risk, which I bloody well do, I most certainly can.”
She subsided, stymied. She didn’t doubt for a second that he would throw her in jail. He wasn’t a cop for nothing. And he looked about ready to throttle her. What had she been thinking getting involved with a man like him? Of course, the answer to that was she hadn’t been thinking. At all.
Ominously, Bass walked over to his alarm system and deliberately activated it. She was locked in with him. Crud.
“What’s your real name, Carrie?”
“We’ve already been over this. My real name is Carrie Ann Price.”
“What name were you born with?”
He had her in an impossible situation. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. Had he really requested her sealed court records, or was that a bluff? He was a police officer, after all. He probably had the power to get the stupid thing unsealed. As much as she hated to admit it, he had her cornered and outmaneuvered.
She collapsed onto the sofa, clutching Mr. Paddles. Defeat rolled through her, oppressive and inevitable. “You’re a bully, you know.”
“Yup.”
“This isn’t fair.”
“Nope.”
She sighed. Closed her eyes. And mumbled, “Katherine Hubbard.”
“That’s your name?”
“No! My name is Carrie Ann Price.”
She thought she heard him mutter, “Stubborn woman.”
“Tell me about Katherine Hubbard.”
“You wanted my birth name. You have it. Can’t you let it go?”
“Carrie—Katherine—”
“Carrie,” she insisted.
“Fine. Carrie. I do not have time for compassion or sensitivity. A man’s life is on the line, here. I’m trying to save your boss—”
He broke off as if something had just dawned on him. And she knew what it was. Carrie winced, waiting for the explosion.
“Katherine Hubbard? As in Gary Hubbard? You two are related?” Bass’s voice rose in volume with each word, ending in a near shout.
“He’s my uncle.”
“Why on God’s green earth didn’t you see fit to tell me that before now?” he bellowed.
“Because of how you’re reacting.”
“I’m reacting like this because you withheld a vital piece of information from me in a police investigation.”
“It’s not vital that he’s my uncle. He’s still missing. I’m still worried sick about him, and we still need to find him.”
“Wanna bet? You’re a relative. Your possible motives for wanting him to disappear just multiplied a hundred times.”
“I had no motive and I had nothing to do with his disappearance!”
“How am I supposed to believe you now after you’ve been lying to me all this time?”
“I haven’t lied to you. Granted, I’ve withheld the truth. But I’ve never lied to you.” Not that she expected him to accept that she was telling the truth. He saw the worst in everyone. Including her.
He strode down the hall to his office and came back bearing a sleek laptop. He set it down on the coffee table, sat down angrily on the couch beside her, and asked grimly, “What am I going to find when I type Katherine Hubbard into my police database?”
“I have no idea. I’m not a criminal.”
“Where’s your hometown?”
“Apple Grove, New York. It’s north of Albany.”
He typed rapidly, alternately scowling at her and frowning at the computer.
Lord knew what was going to pop up on her. She hadn’t searched her old name for years. That life was water under the bridge, and she had no intention of going back to it. Ever.
“Captain of the JV cheerleading squad at Apple Grove High School. One brother. Parents married, father works at a public utility company.”
“He’s an electrical engineer. Manages power usage for our county,” she supplied.
“No police reports associated with your home address on Orchard Lane,” Bass declared.
Please God, let his search yield only more of the same innocuous information.
“Who’s Shelly Baker?” Bass asked abruptly.
Carrie felt the color drain from her face. Her whole body felt hot, then cold, then hot again. If she knew how to swear like a sailor, she would do it right now. “My best friend in school,” she answered reluctantly.
Images of Shelly flashed through her mind’s eye. Shelly laughing at her, running across the football field, blond hair flying, calling back over her shoulder, daring Kathy to keep up with her as they raced to flirt with the boys on the football squad. Lord, they’d been naïve back then. Life had been a summer dream, warm and hazy and innocent.
“What happened to her?” Bass asked, interrupting the reverie.
Carrie stared down at her hands, her twined fingers wringing at one another. She whispered, “I don’t know. Nobody knows.”
“And her mother?”
“She disappeared, too.”
Carrie was startled to see a tear drop onto her knuckle. She dashed at her cheeks, wiping away the evidence of how painful these memories were.
“I’m pulling up the Apple Grove police database, now. Wanna tell me what I’m going to find in here before I find it myself?”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Better that the information come from her than some dry police report. At least she had a chance to explain herself this way. Try to make Bass understand. To do some badly needed damage control.
“Shelly’s mom remarried when Shel and I were in the eighth grade. He was from New York City. Some kind of construction manager. Lonnie Grange was his name. After he married Mrs. Baker, Shelly and her mom changed.”
“How?”
“They became nervous. Tense. Secretive.”
“Was he abusive?”
“I guessed that he was,” she blurted.
“Did Shelly or her mom turn him in?”
“No.” A long pause. “I did.”
Bass jumped all over that. “What did he do to you?”
She took a deep breath and lied. Again. Like she’d lied to everyone since that awful night all those years ago. She’d heard that if a person told the same lie enough times he or she would start to believe it. Not so in her case.
“He didn’t do anything to me. I just started to get suspicious. I hung out with Shelly all the time and I...heard things. Snippets of phone calls. Comments Lonnie made to Mrs. B. And they made me believe he was some kind of mobster.”
“Construction in New York City? It’s a distinct possibility,” Bass commented.
“I told the police I suspected he was up to something criminal.”
Please God, let Bass drop it there. He’d heard enough. And the truth didn’t lie far below the surface of her words, now.
“And?”
Dammit. Bass’s cop instinct was too sharp for his own good.
“And what?” she echoed.
“I don’t know. You tell me. Or, I can always read what the police had to say.”
Grudgingly she gave up a little more ground. “Lonnie was supposedly gone on a business trip, and the police went out to their house and had a conversation with Shelly and her mom about my accusations.”
Bass didn’t speak, but his waiting silence was crystal clear. He sensed there was more to the story.
“Shortly after that, Shelly and her mom disappeared.”
“Disappeared how? Did they leave town?”
The horror of those first days after Shelly dropped off the face of the earth flooded her as if it had all happened yesterday. A huge weight pressed down on Carrie’s chest until she could hardly breathe. “If they did leave town, they didn’t take a single thing they owned with them. Not even their purses or identification. Their cars were in the driveway, and they disappeared with nothing more than the clothes on their backs.”
“Did Grange kill them?”
“He was never charged with murder.”
“What happened to him?”
“He went to jail on other charges. I guess the police found something when they dug into his finances.”
“Where is he now?”
How did Bass do that? How did he ask exactly the right question to get to the heart of the matter? Was it talent or luck? Either way, it was a pain in the butt.
“You’re almost there, Carrie. Keep going with your story,” Bass said quietly.
Huh. As if he had any right to encourage her, when he was the one ripping the scab off the wound and rubbing salt in it.
“Where’s Grange?” he repeated.
“That’s the thing. My mom called me bright and early this morning to tell me I was on the morning news in Apple Grove. They were doing a story about Uncle Gary’s disappearance. He grew up in Apple Grove. Anyway, she was all excited to see me on TV.”
Bass waited, but his body looked tensed. Ready to pounce on some poor prey animal—like her.
“Anyway, my mom happened to mention that Lonnie’s out of jail. Came back to Apple Grove a couple of months ago. He actually showed up at my parents’ house to ask about me. The gall of the man!”
Bass leaned back, his thinking face firmly in place. Carrie swore some more to herself. He was far too clever for his own good, and she seriously didn’t need him filling in the blanks.
As if on cue, Bass said, “So Grange is out of jail and free to come after you. And you were just seen on national television and placed in New Orleans hunting for your missing uncle. You’re afraid Grange is going to do what? Come after you to kill you? Or maybe question you about the whereabouts of his missing family?”
“They’re not his family,” she snapped.
“I stand corrected,” Bass replied mildly. “Is that why you felt a need to flee the city with Mr. Paddles?”
“Don’t make fun of my turtle. He’s been the only constant in my life since I was five years old.”
Bass actually looked sympathetic.
“I don’t want your pity!” she exclaimed.
“And you don’t have it. But you do have my understanding. Losing a friend under mysterious circumstances sucks. Believe me, I see it often enough in my police work, chasing down missing persons.”
“Satisfied now?” she demanded.
“I don’t know. Is there more?”
Heck yes, there was more. But she would never tell. She shook her head stubbornly in the negative.
He shoved a hand through his hair. “I wish you had told me this before. We may have wasted all this time in the search for your uncle. I hope it hasn’t cost him his life.”
A sob rattled its way out of her chest whether she wanted it to or not. If she’d killed Gary, too—how would she go on living? The guilt of having killed Shelly and Mrs. Baker was almost more than she could stand already. She couldn’t bear the weight of another life on her conscience.
She asked Bass cautiously, “Have you ever killed people in combat?”
One of his eyebrows lifted sardonically. “I’m a SEAL. What do you think?”
“How do you live with it?” she blurted.
“Live with what?”
“Knowing you’ve killed someone.”
“Ahh. That. When the choice is the other guy or me, I choose me. The people I’ve killed chose to put themselves in harm’s way. They chose violence and knew the risks of their actions. I’m just the guy who caught up with them first.”
Well, that was of no help. Shelly and Mrs. B hadn’t signed up for anything at all. Carrie had been the one to lead the police to their doorstep and sic law enforcement on Lonnie Grange. But the two of them had paid the price for her foolish belief that the police would get the bad guy and protect the good guys. Silly her. What had she been thinking?
Bass typed on his laptop for a while, and she lost herself in contemplating the woulda, shoulda, couldas. First on that list would be never, ever going to the police to accuse Lonnie Grange of anything, no matter how terrible a monster he was.
Bass spoke abruptly, startling her. “Says here Lonnie went to jail on racketeering and money laundering charges.”
“That makes sense. Shelly and Mrs. B weren’t around to accuse him of abuse or assault.”
“So, he was physical with them, then?” Bass asked evenly. His voice betrayed nothing, but Carrie sensed tension in him.
“Of course he was. Not that Shelly or her mom ever complained to the police—or anyone—about it for that matter. They were too scared of him.”
“Sounds like an asshole.”
“A gigantic sucking one with an oozing rash,” she added vehemently.
Bass grinned. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel about him?”
She answered soberly, “Scared enough to run for the past seven years.”
Bass tilted his head, studying her. “It all makes sense now. The nomadic life as a camerawoman. Very little contact with your family. The lack of friends. The name change.” He nodded. “You’re hiding.”
“Darned straight I am. Lonnie Grange is the scariest person I’ve ever met.”
Bass’s shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Then you haven’t seen me in full combat mode.”
That made her blink. Bass scarier than Grange? The thought was laughable. Bass was a certified, card-carrying good guy.
“You can’t run forever, you know,” he commented.
“Sure I can. I’ve been doing it for a long time. No reason I can’t keep on doing it.”
“What about you? Are you happy?”
“I’m alive,” she retorted.
“What if you want to have a family someday?”
“Not in the cards for me,” she replied bitterly.
“Do you like being alone? Without friends? Estranged from your family?”
She scowled at him, but paused to give the questions actual thought. She rarely paused to question her path since it was the only path that kept her alive.
Bass pushed, “If you had a choice, if you could live some other way, would you? What life would you build for yourself if Grange was out of the picture?”
She stared at Bass, shocked. Was it possible? Was there a way to be free of the ever-present pall of fear that hung over every breath she took? Did she dare hope? “How?” she breathed.
Bass shrugged. “There’s always a bigger, badder fish in the pond. If Grange understands that he’ll be eaten if he comes after you, he’ll back off.”
She wilted. “I’m no shark.”
Bass smiled coldly. “I am.”
She stared at him. “I can’t ask you to get involved in my personal life.”
“Fine. Then involve me in a police investigation of the guy.”
“How?”
“Does Grange know you’re working for your uncle?”
She considered. “I doubt it. I’m never on camera, and I work under my new name.”
“So, it’s entirely possible that his guys went after your uncle as a means of finding you, without realizing you were already right under his nose.”
Horror erupted in her chest. Was she responsible for Gary’s kidnapping after all? Oh, God. Her chest squeezed tight and drawing breath became nearly impossible. Without waiting for Bass to prompt her, she started holding her breath, counting and exhaling slowly, the way he’d taught her.
Eventually, she was able to answer him, “I guess it’s possible Lonnie’s guys went after Gary to find me.”
Bass nodded briskly. “It’s a valid line of inquiry. I’ll send the fingerprints we lifted from Gary’s apartment up to New York and see if they get any hits on the assailants. I’ll also send out a request for a list of known associates of Lonnie Grange. We’ll run financials on them and see if any of his boys have headed down this way recently.” He typed in his computer in a rapid burst and then leaned back with a satisfied expression on his face.
“And in the meantime, you’re with me. This jackass gets no chance to hurt you until you’ve faced him down and won.”
“I can’t face him!” she exclaimed in horror.
“You can, and you will.”
“No way—”
He cut her off. “You won’t be alone, Carrie. I’ll be with you. I’ll help you be strong.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “I can’t do it. The last time I tangled with him, Shelly and her mom disappeared. Because of me, Bass. Their blood is on my hands.”
Bass stared deeply into her eyes and spoke seriously. “Their blood is on the hands of whoever killed them. Not you. If nobody has the courage to stand up to evil, then evil wins. Yes, there can be a tragic cost to confronting evil, but it has to be confronted, nonetheless. You did the right thing.”
“My friend is dead.”
“How many more people would be dead if you hadn’t blown the whistle on him?”
And therein lay the heart of her guilt. She hadn’t told the police everything about Lonnie Grange. How many more women would he attack because she’d been too afraid to speak up?
“He needs to be stopped,” she declared.
“He needs to be taken out behind the woodshed and shot,” Bass snorted.
She couldn’t kill the guy! She must have looked alarmed because Bass added, “We’ll do this by the book. There won’t be violence unless Grange starts something. And if he does, I’ll finish it. I’ll finish him.”
Bass said the words quietly, but the cold conviction underlying them warmed Carrie’s heart like nothing she’d heard in a very long time.
Hope flickered to life in her heart, and she hugged Mr. Paddles tight. It was scary as heck to think about taking on Lonnie Grange, but oh, the possibilities if she won. A home. Friends. A dog. Heck, maybe even a family. Longing flared in her gut for everything she’d ever dreamed of having as a kid that Lonnie Grange had stolen from her. Could Bass truly give her dreams back to her?
She looked up at him, her heart in her throat. “What do we do first?”