I don’t argue with him. If it’s truly not enough, I’ll buy what I need later.

  Moving to my suitcase, Dozer dumps an armful of clothes on top of mine. I smile when I see that he’s clutching Thea’s favorite pink teddy bear. While she’s outgrown her need to cuddle with it when going to sleep, it always stays on her bed, and Dozer knows it will be a comfort to her. I have a feeling scary days are ahead of us.

  Dropping my toiletry bag on top of the clothes, I zip my suitcase. “Did you get ahold of my mom?”

  “She’s going to meet us at the hotel where we’ll stay tonight while we figure things out.”

  I turn, but Dozer’s right there, taking the suitcase from me. I follow him to the front door where I shove my phone and keys in my purse and sling it over my shoulder.

  I’m thunderstruck when, rather than opening the door, Dozer hands me the teddy bear and pulls a gun from a chest holster under his jacket. He nudges the curtains to the side and peeks out into the early-morning gloom.

  “A gun?” I whisper, having no clue why I’ve dropped the decibels. But he’s got a gun, and now I’m afraid someone’s outside the door. “You have a gun?”

  “Just a precaution,” he replies in a low voice.

  “Since when do you carry a gun?” My tone turns slightly shrill, although I’m still whispering.

  Dozer’s gaze moves around the front yard. “I don’t carry one normally. But I do know how to use it, and I’m not taking any chances.”

  “Ivan can’t be here yet. It’s physically impossible for him to travel from New York to Miami in that amount of time.”

  “He doesn’t need to be here to grab you, JJ.” A pang of fear punches deep into my chest. Ivan Borovsky has many criminal friends and family to rely on. They’d be more than happy to grab and hold me for his arrival.

  “Shit,” I mutter, my hand going to Dozer’s back. I crowd in close to him, as if just his presence is protection enough. “Do you see anyone out there?”

  “I don’t.” He lets the curtains go and turns toward me, putting us practically nose to nose. I step back to give him room as he stares down at me. “Go quickly to that SUV behind your car. I left it running. Get in the passenger seat and lock your door. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “I’m freaking out,” I whisper.

  “You’ll be fine,” he says, taking my elbow and giving it a squeeze. He then pushes me toward the door.

  I open it and step out onto the porch, Dozer following me. I reach for my keys, intent to lock my door, but Dozer shakes his head. “Just get in the car. Quickly, now.”

  In my mind, I know he just wants to be efficient. I know there’s no one hiding behind a bush, or Dozer wouldn’t have let me out of the house, but the fact he doesn’t even want me to take a few seconds to lock my door has me on the edge of a nervous breakdown, as if a car full of Russian mafiosi will barrel down the street at any minute.

  I do as Dozer says, hearing his footsteps behind me on the sidewalk that connects my porch to the driveway. He rented a Chevy Suburban, and without hesitation, I open the door and practically vault myself from the running board into the front seat. I slam the door and lock it, watching Dozer move around the front, his eyes roaming the area.

  He opens the back door, tosses in our suitcase, and slams it. He then moves to the front door and just as he opens it, I see two men getting out of a sedan across the street and down a little. They’re heading our way… deliberately.

  “Excuse me,” one of them calls, attempting to sound polite and in need of help.

  Dozer wheels on them, gun drawn, and I gasp in surprise at how quickly he moved.

  Neither of the men are scared to have a gun pointed at them, which tells me they aren’t out for a leisurely drive, in need of directions.

  One of them starts to reach behind his back, but Dozer growls at him. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  Both men slowly hold their arms outward as they keep walking our way, acting unconcerned there’s a weapon on them. One of the men smirks. “What’s up with the gun?”

  “Oh, you know,” Dozer says, his own tone polite yet with a bite of warning. “Just in case some Russian Mafia were to show up in the neighborhood.”

  I’d snort if I weren’t so terrified. These are clearly Ivan’s men as they don’t look at all intimidated, and that last comment knocks the smirks off their faces.

  Slowly, they continue to move toward us, reaching the sidewalk not twenty feet away.

  “Just give us the girl and you can go on your way,” one of them says.

  “Stop where you are, or I’ll shoot,” Dozer counters.

  “Oh God,” I moan, terrified Dozer’s in over his head. There’re two of them—trained killers, no doubt—and only one of him, a former NASA scientist who sits at a desk all day. “Should I call 9-1-1?”

  “No,” he says calmly, his gun trained between the two men. To them, he warns, “One more step, and I’m going to shoot one of you in the leg.”

  “You’d shoot an unarmed man out for a nice morning stroll in the neighborhood?” one of the men asks, and now I hear the distinctive Russian accent, which they’d masked earlier.

  “I would,” Dozer replies, moving his gun slightly to the right and pointing it at the man who just asked the question. “But we both know you’re armed.”

  Clearly trying to see if Dozer is bluffing, the guy takes a step forward.

  Dozer lowers the gun slightly and squeezes off a bullet. The crack of gunfire rends the air, and I stifle a scream.

  Unfortunately, the man who just took a bullet to his shin does the opposite and shrieks in pain as he drops to the ground.

  The other guy starts moving backward, obviously wary now of the big man who, without much provocation, just shot his buddy.

  “Get on the ground,” Dozer orders him, nodding to the writhing man on the sidewalk. “Flat on your stomach.”

  Without hesitation, the second Russian complies.

  “If you get up before we’re out of sight, I’ll shoot again.” The guy glares while the injured one whimpers, his hands clamped over the bleeding hole in his leg.

  Dozer backs into the driver’s seat, swings his legs in, and closes the door, keeping the gun in hand as he shifts the Suburban into gear.

  I half expect him to peel out of the driveway, but he calmly reverses, eyes flicking between the men on the ground and the rearview mirror to make sure nothing is behind us.

  Twisting in the seat, I look back and say, “You’re good to pull out.”

  Dozer trusts my word and swings the big SUV into the street so that the men are on his side of the vehicle and not mine. They glare at Dozer as he shifts into drive, and we pull away.

  I watch out the back window as the man who wasn’t shot stands and pulls a phone from his pocket. “He’s calling someone.”

  “Probably someone to come pick up his friend,” Dozer says, gaze flicking to the rearview mirror. “Or reinforcements.”

  “Shit, shit, shit,” I mumble as I face front again. I see Dozer in a new light, his dark profile so very handsome with those angled cheekbones and full lips. And he doesn’t seem fazed by this at all. “You shot that guy.”

  “I’d have shot the other one, too, if he’d kept coming.”

  “You’ll get in trouble,” I fret.

  “I’ll worry about that later,” he replies, and then spares a glance at me. “Call your mom. Change of plans. Tell her to go straight to my father’s house instead of the hotel. He’ll open the gates for her.”

  My eyes widen as he gives me the address. “We’re going to your dad’s?”

  Dozer’s jaw tightens as he nods. “It’s the safest place for us now that we know for sure they’re actively looking for you.”

  “But… your dad’s? Really?” It’s the last place in the world I thought Dozer would willingly go.

  To my surprise, Dozer offers me a short but brilliant smile. “I’ll suffer his presence to keep you, Thea, and your mom safe until we can figure things out.”

  I absorb the welcome lighthearted moment—I need it right now. “You must love me a lot to suffer your dad’s presence.”

  It was a glib statement, not meant to be anything but jest. I mean, obviously, Dozer loves me as I love him.

  As friends.

  But Dozer’s smile falters just a bit before he replies, “I like you all right. And we’ll only be staying briefly until we can figure out somewhere better to go.”

  I don’t respond but instead call my mom to have her head to Key Biscayne where Dozer’s dad lives.

  CHAPTER 4

  Dozer

  I was born in Miami during my dad’s first year playing professional football. While he bounced around a few teams over his eight-year career as an all-pro linebacker, he returned to Miami for his retirement, and that is where we stayed. As a boy born and raised in Minnesota’s extreme cold, he said he was never going back there.

  He met my mom in Miami when she was eighteen and got her pregnant—by mistake—before she turned nineteen. They never married, but they stayed together throughout his career and until I graduated from high school. She was a great beauty, coveted by my dad, but he would never fully commit and put a ring on her finger. It’s probably why I had harsh feelings toward Chase when he wouldn’t commit to Jess after she got pregnant.

  Regardless, my mom was one of those women who felt it was best to maintain the family unit for the “sake of the child,” even though I could tell from a young age that they didn’t truly love each other. They sort of led separate lives—my mother was devoted to me and my success, and my father was devoted to himself.

  Dad was a linebacker, one of the best. He could power over someone like a bulldozer and thus earned that very nickname. He loved that moniker so much, when I was born, I was named James Dozer Burney, and he saw a future in professional football from the time I opened my eyes.

  While I’m extremely athletic and was a star football player in high school, my real power was in my brain. Most parents would be thrilled with a kid who’s a genius, but my father lamented my desire to study over any love of football. It was a source of friction between my parents when choices had to be made between football and science camps, but my mother always won those arguments and I’m grateful for it. I liked playing football well enough, but I loved math and science much more.

  By the time I graduated, my parents had separated, and Mom moved into a lovely home in Coral Gables, paid for by my father. This wasn’t done so much out of the goodness of his heart for the commitment she kept to him all those years, but rather as a show of conscience because my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer my senior year. I moved in with her and visited my father on occasion.

  With offers to attend Stanford, MIT, Harvard, and UC Berkeley, the door was open for me to expand and exercise my genius among other elite kids.

  Instead, I chose the University of Miami to stay close to my mom, and I stayed there after she died my sophomore year, committing to finishing my bachelor’s degree in my hometown. It’s where I met Jess and Chase during freshman orientation, and they were as much responsible for my desire to stay there as anything.

  My relationship with my father is hard to define. Deep down, I know he’s disappointed I didn’t follow in his footsteps. But I was young when he played—only nine when he retired—so he wasn’t what I would call a solid role model. I don’t remember much of his time playing, so there was no influence there. After football for him came a stint as a broadcaster, and some small movie roles and commercials.

  But gradually, he turned away from legitimate means of employment and things got shady. While I’m not quite sure what exactly he’s got his fingers in, I know his lifestyle is beyond lavish, and he always has “security” around him.

  I don’t ask questions, and he doesn’t offer answers.

  My mom instilled in me enough of a moral compass that I kept things cool with my father because I didn’t want to be dragged into anything that could thwart my career as a NASA scientist. It’s what I’d wanted to be since attending my first space camp.

  Still, we talk by phone every once in a while. He texts to see how I’m doing, and I’ll send him funny memes. I suppose we have a relationship about as deep as a good acquaintance, complete with promises to get together that never happen.

  He’s my dad, however, and I knew he’d open up the gates to his compound without reservation and welcome me into the embrace of his protection for however long we need it.

  ♦

  The iron gate to my father’s waterfront estate slowly opens when we pull up, which indicates someone is watching on one of the security cameras inside.

  “Your dad sure does like the opulent lifestyle, doesn’t he?” Jess murmurs as she takes in the huge Mediterranean-style villa he bought on Key Biscayne a few years ago. It came with a fourteen-million-dollar price tag, or so he bragged on the phone to me. I didn’t doubt it as his accumulated wealth lets him easily afford it.

  “He’ll tell you he earned every bit of this with hard work. Now, whether that hard work is legal, who knows?”

  Jess snorts. She’s well aware of my arm’s-length relationship with my dad and the myriad of reasons why.

  At the apex of the circular driveway, I see Claire Collins’s car. Jess’s mom stands outside it with Thea and my father. He’s squatted in front of my goddaughter and is talking to her. Whatever he’s saying, it has Thea giggling.

  Hearing our car approach, my dad straightens and turns. Behind him, I see two of his men decked out in expensive tracksuits at the house’s main entry looking vigilant but without obvious weapons, although I guarantee they’re packing.

  I turn off the Suburban, shooting a wry smile at Jess before we get out. She knows this is no easy task, me coming to him for help. I leave my gun on the front seat, knowing I won’t need it here.

  My dad walks up to me and gives me a big bear hug with a hard slap on my back. At fifty-two, James Burney is still as strong as an ox, and his voice is deep and gruff. “It’s been too long. Good to see you, son.”

  I return the embrace genuinely, because it has been far too long. We may not be thick as thieves in our bloodline, but I do love him. And for the first time in my life, when I’ve needed help, he’s here for me.

  “You going to tell me what this is all about?” he asks in a low voice. “Are there going to be cops involved? Do I need to hide you?”

  I shake my head, reading between the lines. He doesn’t want cops showing up here, but if they do, he probably has things in plain view that need hiding. “I’ll fill you in later, but I don’t think cops will be involved right now.”

  When I called him no more than half an hour ago, I merely told him that a friend was in trouble and that we needed sanctuary at his place for a day. He told me to come right away. He never met Jess or Chase when we were in college, nor Thea since her birth, although he knows about them from past discussions over the years. I never felt compelled to introduce my dad into their lives, and frankly, I didn’t think he’d really care about my friends.

  Obviously, my dad having met Claire and Thea already, I turn to introduce Jess. “This is my friend, Jessica Collins.”

  My dad smiles at her, holding out a hand, a charming, toothy grin on his face. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Jessica. You are welcome to stay here as long as you need. I see that you get your beauty from your mother.”

  My dad shoots a look over to Claire and he’s not wrong.

  Claire Collins doesn’t share the same skin color as her daughter, but they share the same facial features. The wide eyes, high, arched eyebrows, rounded cheekbones, and even that stubborn, defiant point to their chins.

  Jess was born of a biracial marriage. Her mother is white and her dad, Monte, is black. Jess’s light brown complexion is a perfect blend of both parents and really the only thing that sets her apart in looks from her mom. Claire’s brunette hair is worn in a short, sleek pixie, and Jess has always celebrated her African-American heritage by wearing her hair natural. Both very beautiful women, no matter their skin color.

  My dad seems to think so, too, as he flashes another grin at Jess. “Your mom single?”

  I roll my eyes and throw a backhanded slap at my dad’s arm. “Cut it out.”

  I don’t bother explaining that Jess’s parents are divorced and Monte is remarried and living in Georgia. That would only open the door for my dad to do a lot of flirting, which is in his nature. It’s playful, of course, but it’s not the time.

  My eyes move to Thea, and I can’t help but smile fondly at elements of Chase that I see within her. She has his hazel eyes, her mother’s golden-brown skin, and the cutest braided locs with bows at the top. How in the hell Claire managed bows in her hair when I know they were scrambling to get out of the house after my call is beyond me, but she is the most adorable kid I’ve ever seen.

  And yes, I’m biased.

  It’s why, as I vaguely listen to Jessica engage my father in conversation for the first time, I open my arms to Thea. She launches at me, and I swing her into my embrace as she says, “Uncle Dozer… Gigi said you came for a surprise visit.”

  My heart squeezes with warmth and love that runs as deep as my bone marrow. She wraps her little arms around my neck in a stranglehold that I would never dare break.

  Pressing a kiss to her cheek, I lean my head back so I can look her in the eye. “I just had to come see my very best girl. You good?”

  She nods and grins. My eyes widen in surprise. “You lost a tooth?”

  She grins bigger, and that gap in the front notches up her cuteness about a thousand levels.

  Without setting Thea down, I turn to Claire and pull her into a side hug. She’s been very much a surrogate mother to me since my mom died. Jess, Chase, and I spent a good deal of time in her home while we were in college.

  I glance down at her, and I can see obvious worry in the lines on her face. It’s a silent plea for me to fill her in on everything. “We’ll talk soon,” I promise, not willing to say a single thing in front of Thea so she stays out of this ugliness. She has no clue who Ivan Borovsky is, nor do I want her to.