“I didn’t know you were getting married,” Ken teased Easton. “Mazel tov.”

  Easton shot him a dark look. “Shove it. She’s really not my type,” he added, holding up a picture of a slim blonde in an oversized beige sweater.

  “She’s cute.”

  “Cute,” Easton agreed blandly. “Not cute enough to be worth losing a vacation over.”

  “Ken,” Michael continued firmly, passing his other partner a file. “You’ll hide Holly Yee at your condo.”

  “Here? In the city?” Ken asked, all teasing aside as he shifted back into professional mode, his blue eyes focusing intently.

  Michael nodded. “Again, not ideal. But necessary. We both know the kind of security you’ve got set up at that condo, and we’ll need to keep Ms. Yee close to accessible healthcare. She’s—”

  “Pregnant.” Ken glanced up from the file. “She’s pregnant.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t know anything about pregnancy or babies.” For the first time since Michael first met him, Ken looked genuinely alarmed.

  “Fortunately for you, you won’t have to worry about any of that,” Michael replied dryly. “Ms. Yee is the one who’s pregnant, and she is very early in her first trimester. If all goes well, she’ll be out of your life long before the baby arrives.”

  Ken nodded, but he still looked uncertain, as his gaze lingered on the photo of the young Asian American woman, smiling brightly up at the camera. He muttered something about having to stock up on pickles and ice cream.

  “And you’re sure about this?” Easton gave Michael a penetrating look. “That you’ll be fine with Ms. Zito? We could swap.”

  “So you and your new bride can say you’re going on your honeymoon with a ten-year-old? Sure, that wouldn’t draw any attention at all,” Michael shot back, raising an eyebrow.

  “You could go on the vacation—I could go to the cabin,” Easton tried again, stubborn and loyal as always, determined to find a way to make this easier for his friend. “Think about the big picture here. We don’t know how long this investigation is going to take. It could take a while for the police to wrap everything up. Do you really want to be holed up with Nicole Zito for who knows how long?”

  No, he didn’t. Still, Michael shook his head. “You don’t know my cabin or those woods like I do. It makes sense for me to be there, and it makes sense for Nicole and Grant to be with me. I’ll be fine.” Whatever their past, she needed help. And Michael wasn’t going to let something as inconsequential as his feelings get in the way of keeping Nicole and her son safe.

  3

  Grant rubbed his eyes sleepily and blinked at the cabin. “Is this it?”

  Nicole gripped his hand. The air was a little cooler up here than the sweltering summer heat of the city, and there was the quiet buzz of insects. A few fireflies flashed in the evening light. “This is it, kiddo.”

  She wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when Michael informed her that they’d be hiding away at his personal cabin, but somehow it was perfectly him. And remote. It had been hours in the car—painfully awkward, silent hours. Grant had fallen asleep almost instantly, the way he always did on car trips, while Michael had maintained a steely, implacable silence right next to her. Nicole had debated trying to start a conversation, but Michael had made it pretty damned clear that he wasn’t interested in small talk. He never had been, even when they had been together. Of course, back then, he’d been more interested in kissing her every chance he got rather than acting like she was a stranger who smelled bad and was standing too close to him on the subway. After the first hour, she’d pretended to fall asleep. She wasn’t sure if Michael bought it, but it was better than staring straight out the windshield, trying to ignore his presence. Not that it really worked. Michael wasn’t a man you ignored. There was something about him that filled any space he was in—commanded it.

  The cabin itself was simple, but sturdy, built in straight lines with no fuss. With the red-brown clapboard siding and dark green roof, it almost seemed to blend into the huge, sweeping pine trees of the forest at its back. Hidden and secure. She exhaled and felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders—or maybe that a target had been lifted off her back. She hadn’t realized a safe house would truly make her feel this safe.

  And even just as a vacation spot, it was definitely appealing. She could picture Michael coming up here, alone, enjoying the silence and the solitude, and felt suddenly guilty that she and Grant were intruding on that. She glanced over at Michael briefly, as he climbed out of the SUV and went around to the back to grab their things. “Here, let’s give Mr. Rinaldi a hand, Grant.”

  Michael hesitated for a second, but didn’t say anything. He simply handed over a couple of the smaller bags to her and Grant. She hadn’t been sure how much to pack, and Michael hadn’t given her much time to decide, either, so she’d thrown the basics into a couple of backpacks and hoped it was enough to tide them over. He slammed the back door of the SUV shut and nodded towards the cabin. “This way.”

  Inside, it was impressive. Nicole’s first thought was that it definitely belonged to a guy. The large, open space was striking, especially the gleaming kitchen, and the large living area, with a sturdy desk set under a pair of windows and a large sofa in front of the massive fireplace. But there was something empty about it. There weren't any personal touches, no pictures or mementos, nothing to soften the space or make it feel like a home. Nicole wondered if Michael was lonely—and then reminded herself firmly that it was none of her business.

  Michael cleared his throat. “I was planning to put Grant in the room at the end of the hall. You can take the one right next to it.”

  “Where’s your room?” Grant asked.

  Michael gave a quick nod to the stairs. “First one at the top of the stairs.”

  At the opposite end of the hall, Nicole thought. She wondered if that was on purpose. Not that there would be anything to stop her if she wanted to slip down the hall in the middle of the night—and then she stopped that thought cold, because it was completely ridiculous. But, of course, now that it had popped into her head, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Waiting until Grant was asleep and padding down to Michael’s room. Knocking, or not, and opening the door to see him lying stretched out on the bed. The way she used to when they’d first started dating. She’d wait until her parents had gone to bed and the lights had gone out in his grandparents’ house across the street, and then she’d crawl out of her bedroom window. And into his. Of course, he’d been just a boy then. Unbidden, the image popped into her head of what he might look like now, with that strong, muscled body spread out over his bed, clothes stripped away to cope with the summer’s heat…

  “Well!” It came out a little loudly as Nicole tried to push that image out of her head. She turned to her son and put on a bright smile. “Hungry?”

  “Starving,” Grant said, drawing out the word with all the fervor of a ten-year-old who hadn’t eaten for at least two hours.

  She laughed. “Okay, then how about I get dinner started and you put all your stuff away. Deal?”

  Grant nodded. “Deal.”

  “Any requests?”

  “Mac and cheese,” Grant said immediately.

  “Sounds good to me. That okay with you?” she asked, trying to keep her smile in place as she looked to Michael.

  He glanced at her. Then Grant. “It’s fine.”

  “Mom makes the best mac and cheese,” Grant assured him, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

  “I remember.” Michael shifted a little awkwardly. “If you’ll excuse me. I’m going to unpack, and let my partners know we’ve arrived.” Nicole watched him stride out, trying to ignore the pang as the door shut behind him. This was what she wanted—safety, with the one man she trusted to keep her and Grant protected. They didn’t need to make small talk. They didn’t need to be friends. And even though there was no telling how long they were going to be stuck here with each other, she was willing to put up with any amount of awkwardness. If it meant Grant was safe, and Charlotte and Holly, then she could survive this.

  She sent Grant upstairs with the bags and headed into the kitchen. It looked pristine, as if none of the appliances in it had ever been touched, other than the coffee maker. Fortunately, the pantry was fully stocked. Michael had mentioned that he’d gotten his assistant to run by earlier with groceries and supplies. It had been one of the few things he’d said on the drive up, along with the assurance that his assistant had no idea she and Grant would be staying in the cabin as well. All Michael had told the office—with the exception of Ken and Easton—was that he was taking some personal time.

  By the time she was sliding a large pan into the oven, the front door swung open and Michael strode in, a large duffel back over his shoulder. He hesitated in the doorway. “Smells good.”

  Nicole wiped her hands nervously on a dish towel. “Thanks.”

  She saw his dark eyes take in the first floor—kitchen, living room, open door to the bathroom—in one quick sweep. “Grant?”

  “Still upstairs. Don’t worry, he’ll be down any second. This will be ready in just a couple of minutes, by the way,” she added, as she started searching through the cabinets.

  “What do you need?”

  “Plates. To set the table.”

  “Here.” Nicole started to protest, but Michael had already set his duffel down and closed the distance between them, coming up behind her to reach up to a shelf overhead, just out of her reach. Nicole gripped the edge of the counter, fighting the urge to turn around—or lean back. She could feel the heat of him, all along her back, as his scent washed over her. If she moved back even an inch, she’d be pressed up against him. Heat pooled low in her belly, a bittersweet ache, and she had to bite down hard on her lip, enough to taste blood. Ten years. There’d been other men, here and there. Some she’d even cared about. None had been like Michael. They hadn’t even come close. She’d been fine, she’d told herself she was fine, and now in a split second it all came rushing back.

  Then he stepped away. Nicole nearly sagged against the counter. When she turned, he was watching her with a guarded expression in his eyes. She managed a strained smile. “Thanks.”

  “Mom!” She managed to duck away, clutching the plates to her chest like a shield as Grant came racing down the stairs. “This place is so cool.”

  “Sure is, kiddo.” She let out a shaky breath as she crossed over to the dinner table. “Here, put these out, okay?”

  Michael didn’t say anything, but he got out napkins and helped Grant set the table. As Nicole dished out heaping scoops of mac and cheese onto each plate, he glanced at the boy seated next to him. “I, uh, hope you like your room.”

  “Yeah!” Grant said, digging into his food. “My window looks out into the forest. Do you get any bears up here? It’d be cool to see a bear.”

  “A few. Not many. They won’t come near the cabin, though,” Michael added, to Nicole’s relief and Grant’s visible disappointment.

  “How long are we going to stay here?” Grant asked.

  “Until the electricity is back on in our apartment,” Nicole said quickly.

  “Until it’s safe,” Michael answered at the same time.

  She shot Michael a stern look as Grant’s eyes went wide. “It’s not safe for us to be in the apartment while they’re working on the wiring,” she lied, defying Michael to say anything contradictory with a look.

  “Why couldn’t we just stay at Grandma and Grandpa’s?” Grant persisted. He shoved his slipping glasses up with the back of his hand, getting a smudge of cheese on his cheek. “They’re in Italy, eating pizza, for their anniversary. But they’d be okay if we stayed there without them. Our rooms are always waiting for us—that’s what Grandma says. Grandpa has a Nintendo Switch that he doesn’t want Grandma to know about, but I know where he keeps it, and he lets me play with it.”

  Nicole thought she saw the corner of Michael’s mouth twitch. “I thought since Grandma and Grandpa are on their big trip, it would be a good time for us to have a little vacation of our own. With my friend, Mr. Rinaldi. We used to go to school together, but we haven’t seen each other for a long time,” she finished awkwardly. Nicole couldn’t keep herself from looking over at Michael. He was watching her, his dark eyes intense. For a moment, she felt her heart thud against her chest.

  “How long is it going to take for the wiring to be fixed?” Grant demanded.

  Nicole swallowed back a smile. There were times when he reminded her so much of Emma. Her sister had had a stubborn streak a mile wide as well, and she’d always had to question everything. Grant didn’t remember her, but some quirks apparently carried through all the same. Nicole was grateful for it—grateful for both the son she adored and the chance to keep some part of her sister’s memory alive. “Eat your dinner.”

  Grant stuffed a heaping spoonful in his mouth. “But we'll be back in time for my birthday, right? There’s going to be a party,” he told Michael, words muffled around the mac and cheese. “We already ordered the cake and everything. You can come if you want. A bunch of my mom’s friends are coming over, like my Aunt Holly and Aunt Charlie.”

  “Maybe,” Michael said after a moment.

  “I’m going to be eleven,” Grant went on. “That’s practically an adult.”

  “Yes, I guess that’s true.” Michael poked at his food.

  “You can take on a lot of responsibility when you’re eleven.”

  Nicole leveled a look at her son. “Really.”

  “It’s just that, you know, this house is pretty big. Not as big as Grandma and Grandpa’s, but it’s bigger than our apartment,” Grant said, with all of the honeyed calculation of a ten-year-old on a mission. “And you have, like, a yard and a lot of space and stuff.”

  Nicole arched an eyebrow. She knew where this was going, but she found her son’s chutzpah too entertaining to cut him off. “Is that so?”

  Grant gave a too-casual shrug, and blinked innocently up at Michael. “‘Cause I was just thinking, if we’re going to be here for a while, and there’s all that space, then it’s kinda perfect for a dog.”

  “A dog.” Michael glanced from her to Grant.

  Grant nodded angelically. “If you wanted one. I could help you take care of it. You know, since we’re going to be here for a while.”

  “We’re not getting a dog,” Nicole said, smothering a smile.

  “I’m not saying we should get one,” Grant protested. “I’m just saying that if Mr. Rinaldi wanted to get a dog, I could help him with it.”

  “I don’t have time for a dog right now,” Michael said.

  Grant sighed, crestfallen. “That’s what Mom says. And that our apartment’s too small for a dog.”

  “Because it is,” Nicole said, not stopping the smile this time.

  “Not a small dog,” Grant insisted.

  “And any dog,” she said, bringing out the Mom voice, “has to be fed, has to be walked, has to be cleaned up after.”

  “I can do all of that,” Grant insisted. “I’m eleven. Mostly.”

  Nicole shook her head. “All right, big kid. If you’re done eating, how about you go play? Let Mom and her friend catch up.”

  Grant narrowed his eyes. The trouble with having a smart kid was that there were times when he was too freaking smart for her own good. “That’s what you say when you want to talk about stuff that you don’t want me to hear.”

  Nicole winked at him. “Got it in one, mister. But since we’re kind of on a vacation, I’ll let you play games on the tablet.”

  “Deal.” Grant scrambled out of his chair, taking his plate and glass to the sink.

  Nicole caught him on the way back, reeling him into a hug. “Hey. Love you much.”

  “Love you much.” Grant gave her a tight hug before wriggling away to race up the stairs.

  She felt Michael’s eyes on her and picked up her water glass to take a long sip, mostly just to give her hands something to do and her eyes somewhere to look.

  “You’re good at that.” He nodded to the stairs. “With him.”

  “Thanks.” Nicole took a steadying breath. “I know you’re in charge, but I’m asking you not to say anything to Grant about what’s going on. It’s better if he doesn’t know.”

  “So we’re going the secrecy route. Figures. Standard operating procedure. Got it.”

  The bitter edge to his voice set her back. “I’m sorry?”

  Michael shook his head. “Forget it.”

  “No. I’m not going to forget it. What did you mean?”

  He hesitated, and then met her gaze. “Only that you haven’t changed. Still deciding what people should and shouldn’t know.”

  Nicole flushed, taking another long drink. Like when they broke up, he meant. When she had broken up with him, that was. It was not like she was surprised. The two of them, in close quarters, after all of these years. It was going to come up. She was going to have to face it sometime.

  Because the truth was, she hadn’t been honest with him about why she had ended things between them a decade ago. She hadn’t lied—Nicole hated lying, and Michael could always see right through her anyway. Like he had during that last ugly, awful argument, when Michael demanded to know why she was doing this, refused to believe her when she told him it was just over, that she couldn’t handle being with him anymore.

  The truth was, she’d believed it was better not to tell him. He’d been in a warzone. Risking his life every single day, carrying the lives of his comrades and, knowing Michael, the weight of the world. Nicole didn’t want to give him another burden to shoulder. Besides, she was supposed to be strong.