Eloise pushed away the glass Jackson offered her, slapping at his hand. Water sloshed out and fell in a bright pool onto the wooden floor. Duff, now calm, immediately lapped at the water. Jackson set the glass on the table, wiped his hand on his jeans then stared down at her. “Eloise?”
Eloise realized her laughter had turned to tears and that Jackson was staring at her, the frown on his face an indicator of how much she’d confused and frightened him. She’d managed to frighten the fearless Jackson McGraw. That was a first. Or at least she remembered him as fearless, even at age twenty-three and even though he’d been a rookie back then. But he still looked that way—fearless, intense, completely serious and devoted to his job. Only now, he also looked self-confident and sure and a bit weary. His eyes were still that crystal-blue that reminded her of a deep, still lake, but his hair, once a golden brown, now held hints of glinting gray. It suited him.
Her fearless protector. And the man she’d trusted with her most precious possession—her child.
“I’m all right,” she said, wiping at her eyes. She didn’t have the luxury of falling apart. She’d never had that luxury. “You just…surprised me.” She waved a hand at him. “I saw the irony of my situation and it…seemed so funny. But we both know it’s not so funny, is it?”
“Not that I can see, no,” he replied, his eyes scanning her, obviously looking for signs of delusional behavior. “You were late for work. I was worried.”
“How’d you know— You’ve been spying on me?”
He nodded. “I’ll explain.” Then he turned to stare straight into her eyes, his look telling her more than the official report ever could. He was here for a reason; that was how Jackson operated. No need to read more into that intimate look. No need to hope for anything more.
“I’m sure you will.”
From habit, she moved a hand down the right side of her face. Had he noticed the scar she’d tried to cover each and every day since the last time he’d seen her? She didn’t care about how it looked—but the why bothered her—the jagged, circular imprint left from the near-death of Eloise and her baby always reminded her of a rose just about to bud.
And roses only reminded her of Salvatore Martino.
“I knew they were coming,” she said. “Someone sent me roses yesterday. They were delivered at the café.”
“And you think they’re from the Martino family?”
She nodded. “Remember how he loved roses?”
Jackson grunted. “He liked to send them to his enemies, just as a polite way of reminding them who was in charge.”
“Yes, and he also sent them to funerals, Jackson. There was a big spray at Danny’s funeral. I saw them when you took me there before the mourners came in. But I never said anything about them.”
He sat back on his heels. “And the roses you got yesterday look like those?”
“Yes. Kind of ironic, don’t you think—that my scar looks like a budding rose. Salvatore never knew it, but he left his mark on me.” She turned her head, showing the scar to Jackson. “White with traces of pink. It didn’t heal very well.”
Chilling, considering Salvatore had no qualms about murdering people and letting them bleed, their blood as bright as any red roses she’d ever seen.
Jackson’s gaze followed her hand as she rubbed it over the scar.
“You’re still beautiful,” he said, the words so soft she almost missed them. But she couldn’t miss the way his gaze settled on her with a protective warmth. “Listen, I’ll check on the roses—find out where they came from, okay? Are you sure you’re all right?”
She bobbed her head. “Just peachy. And how about you?” She remembered reading his identification and his badge. “Special Agent in Charge now, huh? You’ve come a long way.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, but I’ve still got a long way to go. And a lot to talk about with you.”
She didn’t tell him that she’d often thought of him knocking at her door, that she’d dreamed of a moment such as this where they’d be free and clear and together again. She didn’t dare tell him any of that. But in her dreams, she hadn’t imagined a madman tracking her down at the same time she’d just witnessed another man killing his wife. What were the odds? Hysterical laughter bubbled in her throat again but Eloise forced it back down. It became like bile sitting cold in her stomach.
Willing herself to stay still, she looked back up at him. “What do I do now?”
He looked at his watch. “You should have been at work an hour ago.” Before she could respond, he pushed at a tiny wireless earpiece in his left ear, then clicked at his wrist. “GQ, Roark, you read?”
Apparently GQ and Roark did read. Jackson lifted an eyebrow then spoke into thin air. “Subject has been apprised of situation. Stay put. Watch my back. Thea, go back to the command post. I’ll update when we meet back up.” Satisfied, he looked back at her then turned off the two-way communications device.
“You brought a posse?” she asked, calmer now in spite of the tiny shivers that refused to leave her body.
He nodded, glanced at Duff. “And you bought a dog.”
“He’s my second one. Do you blame me?”
Jackson didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stalked around the confines of her tiny living room like a giant cat, his nostrils lifting, his eyes scanning her minimalist existence with a laserlike scrutiny, his expression blank and unreadable. Reaching out a hand toward Duff, he let the big dog sniff his knuckles. “What’s upstairs?”
“A bedroom and a bath,” she replied, amazed that her highly trained guard dog seemed to accept Jackson as an immediate ally. But then, Jackson was that way—quiet and calm, and capable, offering a solid security to anyone who needed his help. “Half bath down here and a small laundry and storage room off the back. Two entries—the front door here and the back door off the laundry room. Dead bolts and chain locks on both. And I have a security system and an upstairs exit route. I know the rules, Jackson. And you still haven’t answered my questions.”
He pushed at his thick, spiked hair, a long sigh his only answer for now. After a minute of looking the place over again, he said, “First, we need to move you.”
“I don’t want to be moved,” Eloise responded, digging in her heels even as the words came out. “I’m settled here and as you apparently already know, I have a good job.”
“Risky, opening your own business.”
“I took the risk. I set it up under a corporate name and I was very careful with all the paperwork. I needed something to focus on. And baking is the one thing that brings me a sense of peace and normalcy.”
The unspoken things hung like high clouds there in the air between them. But Eloise knew he was thinking the same thing she was. Finally, because she knew she might not get a straight answer from him on anything unless he decided she needed to hear it, she dared to ask one more question.
“Jackson, I need to know. Just tell me…is she safe? Is she okay? Is my daughter okay?”
Jackson turned to face her, his hands on his hips, his frigid eyes turning a liquid blue. “She is now.”
Eloise’s brief joy turned to a familiar dread but that dread brought her courage back. “What do you mean—she is now? And stop evading me, Jackson. You came to me. And if you want to protect me, you’d better level with me. I need the truth—not just the ‘need to know.’ You owe me that even if I did leave my baby with you to keep her safe. Even if I did leave the witness protection program.”
He tipped his chin then sat down across from her, his eyes flittering around the room. “She goes by the name Kristin Perry now. Her adoptive parents were Anna and Barton Perry. I handpicked them then pulled a few strings to go through the proper procedures. They were good people.”
Eloise swallowed then closed her eyes, trying to imagine what Kristin looked like now. “Were?” she asked, the dread congealing in her stomach.
“They were killed in a car accident several months ago.” At her gasp, he held up a hand. “It was a horrible accident, nothing more. Believe me, I had it thoroughly investigated. Anyway, Kristin found something in their things, a sealed envelope with…the note you left me. She got in touch with my brother, Micah—he’s a U.S. Marshal now, here in Montana. She didn’t know he was my brother but…we had to tell her. I met with her in Billings and warned her off, then later she came to see me in Chicago and while she was there, she attended Vincent Martino’s trial.”
Eloise put a hand to her mouth. “What are you saying?”
He leaned forward, his fingers templed together. “She knows about you, Eloise. And she was so determined to find you that she almost got herself killed. Vincent is out to get both of you now. And if he’s the one who sent those roses, then we have to move you immediately.”
The pulse building inside Eloise’s temple throbbed into overdrive. A silent prayer screamed throughout her mind as she stared at Jackson. “Dear God, what do I do now? What if he finds Kristin?”
She hadn’t realized she’d said it out loud until Jackson’s dark eyebrows lifted in a reaction. The phone rang, causing both of them to jump—Eloise in sheer terror and Jackson into high-alert mode.
Jackson put a hand on her arm. “Whoever it is, act normal. Don’t give anything away.”
She nodded as she went into the kitchen to get the cordless phone. “Hello?”
“Girl, I’m worried about you. Where are you? And where is Meredith? She’s not answering her phone. You girls have a late night or something?”
Eloise steadied herself, the image of Meredith’s body still fresh in her mind. “Hi, Verdie. I’m sorry. I was feeling kind of sick and I thought it would pass. I should have called you back. I might be a while.” She shot Jackson a glance. “If I even make it in.”
“Take your time, honey. I called Timothy in for backup since I can’t get Meredith on the phone. We’re kind of slow today, anyway. Except for this delicious-looking blond-haired, blue-eyed stranger who keeps winking at me, it’s just a few of the locals and me, Timothy and Frank. You rest up. Between my old man and that scrawny teenager, we’ll take care of things. We got plenty of cinnamon rolls turning brown in the oven and I know how to bake bread and cook French toast, even if you make the best in the world. I just wish Meredith would show her pretty face. I could use her help with Mr. Delicious. The man’s already been through a whole pot of coffee and he wants two of those cinnamon rolls.”
Eloise didn’t comment on Meredith. She couldn’t. And she was pretty sure Mr. Delicious was probably one of the FBI agents Jackson was communicating with right now. “Thanks, Verdie. I’ll call you later, I promise.”
“Okay, then. Hey, are you sure you’re all right?”
Eloise wanted to laugh again. She might not ever be all right. “I’m fine. Just a bug or a summer cold.”
She hung up then came back to the living room, her knees too weak to keep her standing straight. “My coworker, checking on me again. I rarely miss work.” Grabbing the arm of the couch, she managed to fall back against it. The dizziness returned, forcing her to put her head down and close her eyes.
Jackson was beside her before she took her next breath. “You don’t look so hot. Are you really sick? Is that why you didn’t go to work?”
Eloise didn’t dare open her eyes. “I don’t feel so hot, either, but I’m okay. And I need to know the rest.” She lifted her head but avoided looking directly at him. “Is…Kristin safe?”
“She is. But she’s stubborn like her mother. She wouldn’t let up. She hired a private investigator to help her track you down. And somebody out there found out about it and tried to harm both of them. But…for now, she’s safe. I might as well warn you, though, she wants to see you and if she tries, that could lead Martino right to your door.” He stopped, shook his head. “She did see you down in Mountain Springs, at the fair. I was there with her.”
“That was just last month.” Eloise shot off the couch. “I won the prize for my Huckleberry pie. I used the money to do some quick renovations at my place here.” She paced around, holding on to the back of the couch. “You were there? Kristin was there? But why—”
“I couldn’t let her talk to you,” Jackson explained without really answering her question. “We were being watched by Martino’s men, and later we saw him there. It was too risky.”
“And now?”
“And now, she knows you’re safe and she knows I’m going to make sure of that. She’s willing to wait, but not for long. She wants to get to know her mother.”
Eloise clutched the couch, her stomach roiling, a white-hot heat of fear flaring through her system. She hadn’t managed to eat any breakfast and now she felt empty, so empty. But this emptiness didn’t come from lack of nourishment. It came from that deep, gaping hole in her heart. She’d missed out on so many things.
“I can’t see her, Jackson. It’s too dangerous for her. I can’t see her ever.”
He got up to come around the couch. “Listen to me. We’re so close to capturing Martino and when we do…it will all be over. You won’t have to hide anymore. Then it won’t be dangerous for either of you.”
“You can’t promise me that,” she said, anger giving her strength. “You promised me that once before, remember? And I almost lost my baby girl. I gave her up to protect her and I won’t change on that. I have to stay away from her for the same reason.”
His hand on her arm steadied her, but the warmth she felt from his touch only added to her misery. Because she’d put him in danger, too. He’d die for her; she knew that. And she couldn’t have that on her conscience. Not now, when she had yet another threat hanging over her like fog over a mountain. If Jackson found out she’d witnessed Meredith’s death, he’d go into double time trying to save her. She couldn’t risk the exposure or the scrutiny. Or the guilt that would come if something happened to Kristin or him.
She whirled, gathering her purse as she headed up the stairs. “You’re right. I have to leave. I have to get out of here.”
“Wait,” Jackson called, stomping to the bottom of the stairs. “You can’t run away without my help, Eloise. Not this time.”
She pivoted to stare down at him. “And you can’t come in here and announce that after twenty-two years of no other choice, Jackson. I’ve done nothing but run since the last time I saw you. And you did suggest that I might need to move.”
He held on to the banister. “Yes, but just to a safe house. I’m here to see that you don’t have to go anywhere permanently again. If you’ll let me help you. I’m telling you—you don’t have to do this by yourself anymore.”
“Yes, I do. I have to protect Kristin. And you.”
He followed her to the landing, grabbing her to pull her around. “Don’t worry about either of us. Kristin is with a good man now. And he knows how to take care of her.”
That declaration floored Eloise. “She’s…happy?”
“I think so. His name is Zane Black and he cares about her. He’s the P.I. I mentioned. He went through the same thing—he was adopted and he recently found his brother.”
“She fell in love with the man who helped her track me down?”
He nodded. “What are the odds?”
His words echoed her earlier thoughts. Eloise knew the odds, though. Hadn’t she fallen in love with her protector all those years ago? But that love hadn’t survived the Mob, even if seeing Jackson again made it feel as strong as ever. She couldn’t give in to that notion; she’d just lose him all over again.
Ignoring the keen loneliness that shrouded her soul, Eloise said, “I’m glad she found someone.”
“Me, too. Zane is crazy about her and now he has his brother, too.”
“Good, then he has his happy ending. And if I leave her alone, maybe Kristin will have one, too.”
“She will. They’re engaged but she wants you at their wedding.”
Eloise closed her eyes, imagining Kristin walking down the aisle, smiling, happy. But then another image came into her mind. That of her daughter lying dead, surrounded by crushed white roses. “I can’t go. I won’t risk that. As much as I’d love to be there, I won’t ruin her special day.”
Jackson held her with a hand on her arm, his gaze moving over her face with that same concentration she remembered so well. “You’re still stubborn, I see.”
She took that as a compliment. “I’ve learned to take care of myself. I didn’t have any other choice.”
“I can see that, too, but this is a real threat and we’re dealing with a dangerous man. And this time, I’m not letting you go anywhere—not without me.”
The phone rang again. Eloise pushed past Jackson to answer it. He followed her back downstairs, a finger to his lips. “Be cool,” he cautioned.
Eloise thought her head might split open from trying to be cool. Taking a deep breath, she answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“It’s me again.” Verdie. And she sounded strange, her voice raspy.
“What is it?” Eloise asked, fear pouring over her. She could feel the sweat popping out down her spine. She knew what was wrong already. She knew and she was helpless to do anything about it.
“The police were just here, honey.” Verdie inhaled a deep sob. “It’s about our little Meredith, and it’s bad. It’s so bad.”
“What?” Eloise looked down at the floor, acutely aware that Jackson was hanging on her every word. Her stomach clenched, her heart rate increased. She felt as if she’d just finished a long marathon. But she knew this run was just beginning all over again. “What is it?”
“They found Meredith dead this morning, Ellie. In the woods just beyond her apartment. Two officers were here asking questions. It’s awful, just so awful.”
Eloise found a chair, managed to sit down. “Oh, no. I can’t believe that. I—” She stopped, unable to lie to her friend. “Do they know what happened?”
“No. They asked a lot of questions, took notes. They don’t know and if they do, they ain’t talking. Her husband is pretty shook up, according to these two. You know he’s a cop, remember?”
“I remember.” Shook up. Eloise remembered seeing Randall Parker last night. He was standing over his wife, crying. He was sorry, all right. Sorry that his unbridled anger and unyielding control had caused him to kill a beautiful young woman. But now, she imagined he was shook up because he had seen someone up on that landing last night. He’d obviously moved the body and now he was probably afraid that person would come forward soon to reveal him as the killer.
Had he already figured out it was her?
“I remember,” she said again, her mind screaming the truth. “I’ll be right there, Verdie.”
“No, don’t come. We’ll just shut down for the day, if I can get rid of this pretty-boy coffee-slurper. He seems mighty interested in what’s going on. Must be one of those crime junkies. It’s just so horrible.” Verdie sniffed then started crying all over again.
“Get him out of there and close up,” Eloise said, forcing back the tears that would come soon. “I’ll come down—”
“Honey, don’t bother. The cops are on their way to your house to question you. I gotta go.”
Verdie hung up while Eloise stared at the phone. Then she turned to Jackson. “I need to leave, Jackson. Right now. Something’s come up at the diner.”
But a knock at the door halted that plan.
Jackson summed things up pretty quickly. “What’s going on, Eloise? Has someone threatened you already?”
“No,” she said, thinking it was useless to lie to him. He’d stay on her until she told him everything. Better to get it out in the open. At least she could trust him—and he did have the authority to help her. She hoped. “I can’t say much now, but…something happened last night. Something really bad.”
The knocking continued and Duff barked a response to each knock, impatient with all the visitors this morning.
Jackson held his hands on his hips, a frown burrowing across his forehead. “Eloise?”
She pushed toward him, then leaned close. “One of my best friends was killed last night,” she said on a whisper. “And I’m pretty sure her husband killed her. I went to help her, but I was too late.” Then she explained what Verdie had told her. “That’s why I wasn’t at work.”
Jackson’s eyes widened as he processed what she was saying. “Is that the cops at the door? Or him?”
She bobbed her head, then grabbed his arm. “Her husband is a cop. I can’t tell them what I know. If I do, he’ll come after me. I can’t step forward and tell the truth, not now. Maybe not ever. I can’t risk it, Jackson. You have to help me.”
She watched as he went into action. Clicking his communication device, he asked, “GQ, what’s the status at your location?”
The knocks persisted but Jackson held up a hand to keep her still. “Got it. Yes, I just heard. Just get out of there now before you blow your cover.”
He lifted a brow toward Eloise, grunted, then sprang toward the door. “Open it,” he said, “and answer their questions.” Then he whispered a quick command to his team. “Stand down and listen in. Don’t move until you hear from me.”
With a quick motion, he pulled her toward the door. “Work with me, Eloise. You have to make this look good. Just let them ask their questions but don’t give away anything right now.” Then he said into her ear, “And after they leave, you’d better tell me everything, so I can make sure you live to see your daughter again.”