“Hard pass,” I grumble. “We’re flying out tomorrow, back to Pittsburgh. Can we use two of the apartments at headquarters?”

  “Of course. We’re round-tabling this later today. I’ve got calls set up with the prison, the highway patrols between New York and Miami, as well as local police down there. I think the FBI is going to liaise on this as well. I’ll touch base with you later with the efforts that are being made to bring Borovsky in. Hopefully, this will be over quickly.”

  “I appreciate it, Kynan. I know this isn’t without significant cost and Jameson resources. I’ll gladly pay.”

  “Please,” he scoffs. “Consider it a perk of the job.”

  That brings a smile to my face. “It’s a damn good job.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Jessica

  The evening view from James’s main patio is unparalleled. It overlooks the small harbor his estate sits on within its own mini peninsula, and you can see Miami in the distance, ablaze with lights that twinkle and shimmer all the way across the water to where we are.

  In my limited travel experience, I’ve never seen anything like it. And while Dozer comes from money, and his mother had a beautiful home during the few years before cancer took her, I’ve never seen this level of wealth. Dozer’s always said his dad does something not quite on the right side of the law, but he’s been vague about it. I’m not sure he even knows, but the muscled, armed men James Burney keeps around tell me he’s not exactly a W-2 employee somewhere.

  Or maybe he just likes the image. Who knows?

  All I do know is that he’s a cool guy, and I want to get to know him better. Mr. Burney is gregarious, if not a little cocky, but also charming and genuine. The fact that you don’t know how he fuels this lifestyle—whether it’s money from his pro football days and endorsements, wise investments, or something illegal—only makes him more mysterious. I know my mom is completely taken with him as he regales her with tales from his gridiron glory days.

  Dozer has been listening quietly as we sip on post-dinner drinks poolside, having finished dinner about an hour ago. I think the gap between father and son stems from a lot of mismatched expectations on both sides while Dozer was growing up, but when I see them together like I have this evening, I can tell it wouldn’t take much to bridge that gap.

  “Anyone want another cocktail?” James asks in his barrel-chested voice, rising from his patio chair.

  “I’ll have another,” my mom says, rising as well. “I’ll help you make them.”

  James looks to me and then Dozer. We glance at each other, and I shrug. “Feels weird to be drinking cocktails in a mansion on the water when killers are after us.”

  “You’re safe here,” James asserts with authority. And I don’t doubt it. More men showed up shortly after we did, all looking fierce and ready to tangle with anyone who might try to scale the fence surrounding this peninsular compound. I knew they were walking the property now and would be throughout the night, but Dozer thinks chances are almost nonexistent that anyone associated with Borovsky would link me to Dozer’s dad.

  “I’ll have another,” I say, holding out my glass. Whatever he made—with mangoes and coconut—was sublime.

  “I’ll pass,” Dozer says, eyes drifting over to Thea who is quietly coloring in a book provided by James. Within half an hour of our arrival, he’d sent a man out with his credit card and orders to buy enough stuff to keep a seven-year-old happy for the evening. The man returned with three huge bags of toys, dolls, coloring books, makeup kits, and nail polish.

  Earlier today, my heart swam with all kinds of warm fuzzies when Dozer sat down with her and let her paint his nails a bright pink. He still has the polish on, most of it smeared on his skin and cuticles because seven-year-olds don’t have refined attention to detail. But he’s completely nonplussed by it. I make a mental note to try to find remover at some point along our journey.

  My mother and James move across the patio to a massive U-shaped, built-in bar covered in stone. James has a professional-grade blender, and he starts to whip up more concoctions.

  “Your dad is a nice guy,” I say as I watch him making my mom laugh.

  “He is,” Dozer acknowledges, his gaze moving from Thea over to the bar. “Has always been, and I expect always will be. He’s also a charmer and a ladies’ man. I hope your mom sees through that.”

  “My mom is old and wise enough to take care of herself,” I reply with a chuckle.

  Dozer smirks and shakes his head. He seems amused by it more than anything, and it provides some light in an otherwise dark day. We haven’t really been able to talk about what tomorrow and the future holds as we’ve purposely kept quiet about everything around Thea.

  James and my mom come back to the table, and James hands me another drink with a wedge of fresh pineapple and a cute little umbrella tucked into it. “Thank you.”

  They sit, and James holds his glass out to the middle of the table. “To new friends,” he says.

  Mom and I clink our glasses with his. “To new friends.”

  As the moon rises high over the water, diluting the colorful sparkles thrown off by the Miami skyline, James and my mom take turns sharing stories about Dozer and me when we were little. Each one tries to outdo the other in their efforts to embarrass us, but Dozer and I can’t be shamed. We know everything about each other, although I did feel my cheeks heat a little over my mom’s gleeful retelling of how my massive crush on Justin Timberlake led to a stalkerish letter-writing campaign I undertook to advise him that Cameron Diaz wasn’t good enough. I sent probably a dozen letters, and he never wrote back, and that’s more humiliating than anything.

  It’s only when Thea yawns that my mom immediately falls back into Gigi mode. “I better get this little one to bed,” she says, rising from the table. James, the consummate gentleman, rises as well.

  “I’ll take her, Mom,” I say, reaching out and giving a playful tug on one of Thea’s locks.

  “I want Gigi to take me,” Thea says, giving an adoring look to my mother. Those two are thick as thieves, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I enjoyed a close relationship with my grandmother growing up, and I want Thea to have the same.

  Smiling, I turn my patio chair and open my arms. “Only if I get the biggest hug ever.”

  No hesitation on my kid’s part. She’s a hugger by nature. Throwing herself into my arms, she wraps her little self around me and squeezes my neck. “Love you, Mom.”

  I revel in the sweetness of the hug and cringe slightly that lately, I’m being called Mom more than Mommy, which is a sign she’s growing up and I’m losing my baby. “Good night, Doodles.”

  Thea moves to Dozer and hugs him. “We’re going on a plane ride tomorrow, right?”

  Our story to Thea was that we’re all taking an impromptu vacation tomorrow to Pittsburgh.

  Dozer nods as she pulls back. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

  He’s rewarded with her gap-toothed grin, and then to my surprise, she moves to James. He’s new to her, and while she’s not really sure about him, he’s been like Santa Claus today, showering her with toys and candy. Tipping her head back, she says, “Good night, Mr. Burney.”

  James smiles down at her, holding out his fist. “’Night, little princess.”

  She fist-bumps him, then heads off with my mom, hand in hand.

  When the patio door closes, James sits back down, his gaze coming right to me. “Your mom is a nice lady.”

  “She’s the best,” I agree with a smile, even as Dozer rolls his eyes.

  “I only say that,” James continues, his voice losing its playful tone and turning very businesslike, “to point out that she’s not annoying or a hindrance. And Thea is the sweetest kid. I’m more than happy to have them stay here and protect them until this is all finished. You two are welcome to stay as well, although I understand why Dozer thinks it’s best to get you to Pittsburgh.”

  I’m touched by his offer. “I appreciate it, James. Really. But—”

  “But Thea and Claire stay with me,” Dozer cuts in, and by his expression, his father knows there will be no argument.

  “Fair enough,” James rumbles. “So, what is the game plan?”

  This is the first time we’ve been able to talk freely about things since we arrived. I know Dozer took his dad aside and caught him up on everything, but Dozer’s had multiple calls today from the people he works with, and I expect there’s more that we don’t know.

  Dozer sighs and pushes up from his chair. “I think I will take another beer.”

  James and I wait patiently as Dozer grabs a frosty bottle and returns to the table. He takes a sip first before setting it down. “Kynan’s been in touch with all law enforcement agencies. The good news is, there’s no active investigation into the shooting this morning. Without victims, the police are closing the case and aren’t bothering with any further interviews of people in the neighborhood.”

  “Oh, thank God,” I breathe out, the relief lifting off me so intense I hadn’t realized how worried I’d been about that.

  Dozer shoots me a smile, but it slips right off. “The FBI has had this syndicate that Borovsky is tied to under surveillance for a long time. They’ve picked up some intel from an informant, and it’s verified that Borovsky is going to enact his right to call for a vendetta against you. I mean… we thought that was what he would do, and those two men showing up this morning was more proof, but it’s apparently official within this Russian sect he works with. That means they will give him whatever resources he needs, despite the fact he’s an escaped fugitive and the subject of an ongoing multistate manhunt.”

  “Meaning it’s not just him we have to worry about,” I muse, and Dozer nods.

  “Speaking of manhunt.” James picks up his glass, readies it for a sip, but asks, “Any leads on finding him?”

  “His face is plastered on local news from New York to Miami. A lot of calls are coming in, though nothing has panned out. But if you follow the trail of tips, they’re moving southward, so he’s definitely coming down here.”

  “Which is why it’s best we go to Pittsburgh,” I say. It’s not an idea I’m crazy about as I have to leave my job—although they’ve been very understanding—but I think it’s the smartest move we can make. If Borovsky is here, I have to be elsewhere.

  “The police are talking to Jess’s friends and coworkers, making sure they understand what’s going on. They could be approached for information.”

  For the first time since being freaked out over Dozer shooting that man this morning, I feel a panic attack coming on. “They’ll go after my friends? Coworkers? What about the kids? Will they put protection on them?”

  Those last words come out so hysterically, my voice cracks.

  Dozer is up from his chair and squatted beside mine in the blink of an eye. He takes my hands in his. “Hey… deep breaths. They’re not going to be in danger. More likely they’ll be watched, and maybe approached casually for information, but it’s highly unlikely anyone would be strong-armed.”

  “You mean kidnapped and tortured for information,” I choke out with tears stinging. All of a sudden, this got very bad. Before, it was just me, Mom, and Thea in danger. But there are so many others I care about, particularly the kids at the community center where I teach art.

  “Deep breaths,” Dozer says softly again, and I look at him, wild-eyed. He inhales slowly, gaze pinned on me in a silent demand I follow suit. He exhales and squeezes my hands. When he inhales again, I nod and suck air deep into my lungs along with him. Closing my eyes, I let it out in a long, expelling breath.

  He makes me repeat this five more times until I open my eyes and stare into his. I feel better. Looking at him, I draw on his strength and determination.

  “Okay?” he asks.

  I nod.

  Dozer stares at me intensely and vows, “The police are going to be watching the people close to you. They’re hoping to gain their own information that way. Perhaps tail someone who would approach one of your friends. They’ll be more than fine. And I swear to you that I will never let any harm come to you, Thea, or your mother.”

  His expression is fierce and unguarded, and deep within those chocolate-brown eyes, I see the truth of his feelings.

  I recognize the naked truth that he’s not attempting to hide.

  Dozer loves me.

  Not just as a friend, but as a man loves a woman. I already know he loves Thea as his own daughter, and he’s loved my mother as his own since his died.

  But how did I not recognize this romantic, unyielding love before?

  Was it because I was simply too stupid to understand it?

  I know I certainly wondered why we never took that step across friendship lines. I always told myself I didn’t want to ruin the relationship. It was a coward’s way of making sure that if Dozer didn’t have the same feelings I did, I wouldn’t get hurt.

  “How come you two never dated?” James asks, and the question is so shocking that Dozer and I quickly pull apart. I draw my hands onto my lap, and he shuffles backward to resume his seat.

  I glance at his father, and there’s a knowing expression on his face. Just watching that exchange between us—strong words and fierce protectiveness from his son, staring at each other way past the end of the conversation and jumping apart as if zapped by electricity—tells him all he needs to know.

  “I mean,” James drawls, clearly intent on capitalizing on our awkward silence, “you both clearly like each other, you’re both super attractive, so I know that’s not an issue, and you two know each other better than anyone. I mean, it only stands to reason that you would be together romantically. So, how come—”

  “Cut it out,” Dozer growls at his father.

  James shrugs, trying for a goofy, abashed expression, but it merely comes off as smug and knowing.

  I don’t know if it’s because my life has turned upside down and I got a good taste this morning of how preciously short it could be, but I become reckless in my quest to answer James’s question.

  Reaching out with my foot, I playfully bump Dozer’s shin. “How come you and I have never dated?”

  Dozer’s eyes practically bug out of his head, and James leans forward in his chair, avidly watching the interplay between us. I keep my tone light and teasing. “I mean… surely, you’ve thought about it? I know I have.”

  Dozer’s mouth drops open in shock over my admission. “You’ve thought about it?”

  I give a tiny shrug. “I had a crush on you our freshman year. But your head was often stuck in books, and you were awkward and shy with girls. Chase, unfortunately, got the jump on you.”

  I hope my playfulness takes the pressure off Dozer to admit something he might not be willing to right now.

  To my surprise, he has an answer, and it’s very familiar because it mimics my own. “I never wanted to ruin our friendship. After Chase died, you needed me as a friend more than ever.”

  I smile at Dozer tenderly. “I did need you. And you were there. You’ve always been there.”

  “Always,” he says.

  Our eyes lock, and I don’t know what any of this means, but clearly James does. He coughs and scrapes his patio chair backward as he stands, grabbing his drink. “I… um… have something I need to do.”

  And with that, he leaves Dozer and me alone on a romantic, moonlit patio.

  “Dozer,” I begin, deciding I’m going to lay it all out.

  But I’m cut off as the patio door opens and my mom sticks her head out. “Honey… Thea really wants you to come tuck her in.”

  This is definitely poor timing, but Thea comes first. I regret the way Dozer’s expression seems to shatter and then go blank. As if a moment has been lost.

  I smile at my mom and stand from the chair. “I’ll be right in.”

  I feel desperately in need of regaining what we had experienced so that we can reopen this conversation after I get Thea settled.

  But once again, my mother interrupts. “And she wants Uncle Dozer to read her a story.”

  My gaze drops to Dozer, and a smile beams on his face. He is more than happy to be needed by Thea. Not to avoid what is clearly a conversation we need to have, but because he adores my daughter.

  Dozer rises, and my mom disappears back into the house. To my surprise, Dozer holds out his hand, palm up—a silent request for me to place mine in his.

  I do so, and he lifts my hand to brush a kiss over my knuckles. It’s a gesture he’s never done to me before—we’ve never done anything more than friendly hugs—and it’s decidedly intimate. “We need to talk.”

  “Yes, we do,” I agree.

  Dozer turns toward the door, keeping my hand gripped firmly in his.

  He doesn’t release it until we step over the threshold and into the house. My skin tingles where we were touching.

  Side by side, we silently move up the stairs to one of the guest bedrooms where Thea waits for us.

  CHAPTER 7

  Dozer

  We’re in Pittsburgh, and I feel infinitely better to be within the protective walls of the Jameson fortress. With Jess, Claire, and Thea safely deposited in one of the apartments and under Joslyn’s kind care, I head down to the second-floor conference room. Inside, I find Kynan, Bebe, Jackson, and Cage. I assume he’s assigned Jackson and Cage to this case, and they’ll be the primary field agents under his direction.

  Bebe jumps up from her chair when she sees me and rushes in for a tight hug. She’s not the most expressive person when it comes to emotion, but within that embrace, I can feel every bit of her fear because I’m putting my neck on the line for Jess and her family.

  “I’m so glad you didn’t get dead yesterday,” she whispers. Not an elegant use of words, but I get what she’s saying.

  “I’m glad I’m not dead either.”

  We break apart, and as I move to take a chair at the conference table, Kynan asks, “Everybody get settled in?”