Swallowed. Took a deep breath. Her mind scrambling.

  And coming up empty.

  “Why?” she asked, blinking through wet lashes as she looked over at her host. “Why would he do that?”

  The obvious reason, that he wanted the police to get a hold of her, struck terror within her. Was her twin giving her up to save himself?

  Because she’d turned traitor by turning in the knife?

  Then why tell her to stay gone?

  “My guess is that now that he knows you’re alive, he wants to make it look like he doesn’t know you were abducted. Doesn’t know where you are. It puts suspicion off from him. You live in a relatively small town. You know people. You said your mom and sister are on vacation, but there are others who will begin to wonder when no one sees you around anyplace. Neighbors who don’t see sign of life at your house...”

  Good. Right. It all made sense.

  And was far more palatable than the hell into which her mind had immediately fallen.

  “It also lets whoever took you know that you haven’t been found,” Devon said more softly, dropping down to a chair he pulled out from the kitchen table. “Which might calm them into thinking that you drowned in the storm. Or strengthen a belief that you did, if they were already thinking as much.”

  “And Kyle would likely know if they were thinking that.”

  “There’s more...”

  She nodded. She’d take as much as she had to take to get her family back together safe and sound. “He said that he last saw you at the spot on the river we went this morning, late afternoon, the day that you were abducted.”

  “After I was kidnapped?” She shook her head. It was like her twin had been taken over by some kind of alien. “He knows exactly where and when it happened because I just told him this morning. The only reason I can think of that he’d lie about it is so that no one investigating my disappearance looks at footage around the police station to try and find out what happened...”

  “He’s protecting your kidnappers.”

  Maybe. It sounded that way. Her heart couldn’t buy it. Not yet.

  Devon’s eye-to-eye look, his continued frown, had her taking a seat as well. “This also means that unless you want your whereabouts to be known to the police, you need to stay hidden. Every cop in the state is going to be on the lookout for you.”

  She’d already figured out that much. “Why would Kyle want that? Why would he do that to me?”

  A shake of Devon’s head was her only answer.

  And it wasn’t good enough.

  * * *

  She’d called her brother and then the man had sicced the police on her. Or put bad cops under notice that cops all over the state would be watching them.

  Devon didn’t know what to think. He needed to know not just what Kacey was saying, but what she was thinking.

  He had to know how to keep her safe. Even if she was involved in something bad. He’d turn her in if he found out she was guilty of any crimes. Once he knew that she’d be treated fairly by the law.

  In the meantime, Devon ate meat loaf. Thought about Rachel on her date. Waited for the detective’s text.

  And tried not to enjoy every move Kacey Ashland made in his home. Tried not to like having her there.

  Or think about how quiet and empty the place would seem when she left.

  Life would return to normal—as normal as Tommy Grainger’s life ever got—he knew that. He’d been undercover before. A week or two and he’d acclimate back to his real life.

  Until the next assignment.

  At least until Sierra’s Web found out who’d framed his father. If they found out.

  Hilton Grainger had been unfaithful to his wife. It was possible he’d been unfaithful to the job as well.

  Tommy wasn’t ready to accept that.

  So he allowed himself to be consumed by Devon’s life. His current world. It’s how he did the job so well.

  And stayed alive.

  Tommy out. Devon in.

  And Kacey Ashland... Devon’s world, not Tommy’s. Not real life. No permanency.

  But if he could help her get her real life back...he’d like to be able to do that.

  Even if it meant she went to prison?

  The thought stopped him. Until his phone vibrating against his leg from inside his shorts pocket took him outside again.

  “Rach? What’s up?”

  He listened. Gave her a one-word affirmative, and then rushed back inside.

  Kacey glanced up from the new burner phone he’d given her. She had internet access. He’d determined that he had to give her all the freedom she needed to lead him to her truths.

  Reality was, she was free. Had had the wherewithal and guts to free herself from her captors. And he wasn’t going to do anything to take that sense of liberty away from her again.

  Except, maybe get her killed? He’d barreled into the cabin, mouth open, breath taken, ready to speak. Saw her sitting there, so beautiful. So fine. And said nothing.

  “What’s wrong?” She’d looked up from her phone.

  For a split second, he considered lying to her.

  To protect her.

  “Devon, what’s going on? Is it Kyle? Did someone hurt him?”

  Her fear, and the strength with which she stood, as though she was ready to beat the truth out of him, brought him back to his current reality.

  The truths were hers. As were the choices.

  “I know this bartender... Rachel. She works at the place across the street from the marina and docks that I work out of...”

  Her glance fell, and then when she looked at him again, was completely deadpan. “You want to go on a date?”

  Then, before he was even fully on board with where she’d taken his lead in, her brow raised, and she said, “Oh, you want to bring her here. And I’m...you need me to go.” Turning, Kacey moved toward her room.

  “Kacey.”

  Just the one word. Filled with so much...dread, worry, anticipation, energy, and far too much caring.

  He didn’t know how much got through to her, but she turned back, her gaze filled with emotions he couldn’t decipher, as she just stood there.

  “She’s a...friend...but not like you’re thinking. There’s nothing—and never has been—anything romantic between us. She’s had a few troubles at the bar. I step up when I can. That sort of thing.” All true. Just nothing to do with her work as a bartender. “Anyway, today after work, I stopped in. I asked her if she’d seen or heard of three guys in a rowboat the night of the storm. I told her I knew a woman who was looking for them because they knew her brother. She hadn’t heard anything, but said she’d keep her eyes and ears open...”

  Kacey sank into her chair, mouth open, eyes wide as she kept her gaze on him.

  “Rachel thinks they’re at the bar right now,” he told her. “Playing pool. She lives in the apartment upstairs. She offered to let you in—there’s a vent in her floor above the poolroom. You’d be able to hear them talking...”

  She hadn’t seen any of them well enough to give any kind of usable description, but she’d heard them talking. It was a long shot.

  One that had earned him a raised brow, but no questions, from Rachel when he’d briefly mentioned the situation that afternoon.

  “And she doesn’t think that’s odd?”

  “She works in a bar that serves all kinds of people,” he told her, a truth, but not the full one where she was a hotshot detective who could generally get anyone to tell her anything. “She’s heard it all. And stays alive with her live and let live motto. People tell her things. She keeps them to herself.” All Rachel. Not Detective Bonita Donaldson who used her training to keep herself safe.

  Kacey stood. “Then why are we sitting here? Let’s get over there before these guys take off...”

  Walking straight into a building that possibly held her captors and not even a second’s hesitation? Or hint of fear in her eyes?

  What was he walking into?

  “Maybe you should put on a T-shirt, to hide the gun in your waistband,” he said to her, nodding to the 9mm that was still on the counter where he’d left it earlier. Without waiting for a response, he went to get one of his shirts, tossed it to her, as, gun in hand, she was heading for the door.

  Giving him serious pause. “Kacey.”

  Stopping at the door, she glanced at him over her shoulder. “You’re walking straight into potential danger here. If these guys really are the ones who took you, and possibly the ones arguing with your brother, they want you dead. You get that, right?”

  She shivered, and he figured he could have been a little less blunt with his words.

  Wrapping her arms around herself she gave him what seemed like a really long look. A real look. It was as though she’d given him access to her deepest places—letting him see the fear, the desperation, that was driving her determination. “I get it,” she told him. “I also get that, though I’m alive, these men, and whoever else might be involved in whatever Kyle got mixed up in, have already taken my life. I can’t go anywhere, do anything, without fear of death. I’ve been here two days and am no closer to knowing anything, other than that the knife I turned in had human blood on it. I can’t stay here forever, Devon. I walked into this danger of my own accord—to protect my family—and if any of us are going to have a chance to get our lives back, I have to finish what I unknowingly started by walking into that police station.”

  With that she turned, and walked out to his truck, opening the passenger door and climbing inside.

  * * *

  Kacey knew Devon would follow her out. That he’d take her to his friend’s apartment above the bar.

  She hoped he didn’t know how very much she was praying that he’d go with her upstairs, stay with her and then get her safely back to his place. If he didn’t, if he just dropped her off at the apartment and went on his way, she wouldn’t blame him.

  He hadn’t signed up for life-and-death drama. He was just a Good Samaritan who’d saved a drowning woman. One who carried a gun. And had a spare for her.

  And a stash of burner phones, too, apparently.

  One who was as paranoid—so as watchful and careful—as she’d become.

  They made a good team.

  “As soon as we’re off my property, you’re going to need to get down. With that missing person’s report out, I’ll be stopped if you’re recognized.”

  Right. In the adrenaline-induced hurry of the moment, she hadn’t thought of that. His paranoia was much more honed than hers. He’d been at it longer. Had had more time to acclimate.

  “The staircase up to Rachel’s apartment is enclosed, with a locking door at the bottom. I’ll text her when we get close and she’ll see that the door gets unlocked. I can pull up right to the door, will open my door, get out, open hers and you’ll climb over my seat, stay below the truck door window and get inside. I’ll follow you up.”

  And anyone looking would only see a male friend of Rachel’s heading up to her place.

  The plan was good. As failproof as one could possibly be.

  And most of all, it meant that Devon would be with her.

  It was that information, not thoughts of her family, that gave Kacey the most strength of all.

  Chapter 14

  There were so many things that could go wrong. Kacey being seen and stopped by the police for one. News getting out that she was alive before they knew who wanted her dead.

  And he was taking chances on the possibility that the three men playing pool in the bar were actually Kacey’s kidnappers.

  The only thing he felt good about as he drove toward the bar at the marina was that he’d get a good look at Rachel’s date, Belen Alexopolous. She should be sitting with her drug-dealing companion, enjoying an after-dinner cocktail. Hopefully Devon would be present when the date ended to see his partner safely make it to her apartment.

  The Phoenix detective didn’t need Devon’s protection—any more than he needed hers. He felt better being able to offer it just the same.

  And wished he felt half as confident that Kacey was going to get out of her current circumstance unharmed.

  If the three men in the bar were indeed her captors, he was driving her into a hub of danger that could get her killed.

  And giving her the chance to find the beginning of the answers that were her only way back to her life.

  Glancing at the woman sitting with her knees up to her chest, her back to the passenger door of the truck, he had to tamp down the need to turn around and get her back to his place.

  “After the bar closes, Rachel can get us surveillance tape of the three men,” he said, figuring Kacey had to be fighting her own set of nerves, and feeling compelled to help. Forcing himself to stay on track. He wasn’t involved in some kind of heroic rescue mission. “And remember, it’s only legal for you to shoot at someone if they’re an imminent threat to your life.”

  “Self-defense,” she said. “I know. I own a small pistol. I don’t like it in my home, but my mom insisted on it when I moved into my own place. She might be a widow with RA, but she’s my dad’s partner through and through.”

  The words, the glimpse she gave him into her personal life, touched him far more than the situation warranted.

  Not completely trusting Devon in that moment, Tommy Grainger took note. Was he in too deep? Losing objectivity?

  He didn’t trust Kacey, either. He wasn’t being blinded by the woman. He was just human—a guy who felt a bit drawn to a woman he’d met.

  Didn’t mean he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—do his job.

  The thought brought him full circle back to his father. Hilton Grainger had been drawn to a woman he’d met on the job, too. He’d given in to the temptation to be unfaithful to his wife. That did not mean that he’d grown lax on the job, too.

  Devon knew a few great law enforcement officers who’d had affairs. Didn’t make them stellar husbands, but it didn’t make them crooked cops, either. And since Tommy had already long since determined that he didn’t trust himself to be a faithful husband—and thereby would never again be married—he had no reason to give the matter any more thought.

  If anything, his growing attraction for a woman he met on the job served to strengthen the decision he’d already made for his life.

  Confident that he was on track and ready, Devon texted Rachel that they were almost there, and a couple of minutes later, pulled up close to the door leading to Rachel’s apartment. Reminding himself that if things went awry, he had a top-rated detective in the room with the three men—one who was armed and trained to take down the worst kind of criminals—he shut the truck door as soon as Kacey was in the stairwell, following her up to the apartment.

  She paused at the top of the stairs, standing back to let him enter the living area in front of her, an action he was hugely fond of. Gun in hand, he led her through to the kitchen vent. “The air-conditioning in here travels through a vent in the poolroom,” he said softly. “Rachel discovered soon after moving in that if she didn’t keep some kind of soft music, or the TV on, she could hear conversations down there.”

  Kacey gave him a long, assessing glance. He guessed that the source of her curiosity was his relationship with Rachel, but quickly dismissed the thought. He had no relationship with Rachel—not in the man-woman sense, and he’d already told Kacey that. He didn’t like deceiving Kacey about how he knew the other woman.

  And threw that thought out, too. He had absolutely no reason to feel guilty about the lies he told regarding his association with the bartending detective. He was doing his job.

  On his way to saving the lives of countless young people—and others—who were going to die of overdoses if he didn’t get the lethal cocktail off the streets.

  A minute or two after they’d entered the kitchen, he heard Rachel’s voice, asking the men seated in the corner of the poolroom if they’d seen anyone coming out of the restroom with a red purse.

  He watched Kacey as at least two nos sounded, pretty much simultaneously. She didn’t react, but then, he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to pick out any distinguishing sounds from the double answer.

  “I’m sure I left it in there,” Rachel’s voice continued, sounding a bit confused—and somewhat needy. “I’ve had a bit to drink, but I know I took it in with me about an hour ago. I’m on a first date...” Devon was impressed with the sexy little worried tone in her voice. Knowing how completely out of character it was for the detective in her real persona.

  Kacey, with her serious gaze focused intently on the vent, seemed to be buying it. He felt a twinge, not telling her that the woman she was listening to was the same one whose apartment she was currently inhabiting, but shoved it aside. Focused. “And I went in specifically to finish my makeup. I didn’t need it again until just now, when I noticed it was missing...”

  “We weren’t here an hour ago,” one man said, his tone all male, wanting to come to the aid of a helpless woman. Rachel had played the scene exactly right.

  Impressively on target. And Devon felt not even an ounce of attraction for the slender, dark-haired detective.

  “But I did see a couple of women head back to the restroom since we arrived,” another offered. Both sounding like regular guys. Reasonably educated. Somewhat amused, but not overly disrespectful.

  Nothing notably thug-like, threatening or murderous about them.

  “One was a redhead, slender, about your height,” a third voice confirmed.

  Kacey’s gasp hit him as hard as the fingers suddenly clutching his arm. She didn’t say a word, just stared at the vent, completely white, as though planning to listen to whatever came next.

  But he’d heard enough.

  Texting his partner, knowing that the double vibration she’d programmed into her phone would alert her, he grabbed Kacey’s hand, peeled it off his arm, and pulled her toward the door. Getting her out of there had become his prime objective.