She hadn’t realized Priscilla and Joe had known each other well enough for always talking about.

  And, feeling like she had a rock in her gut, McKenna nodded. “Stay there,” she ordered.

  Gun at the ready, she walked slowly backward to the car, hearing Priscilla crying softly the whole time.

  “She says she knows who framed you,” she said as she opened the back passenger door. “She’s spoken to my grandparents and is afraid that when she goes public with what she knows, her life is going to be in danger, too.”

  He was out of the car and heading toward Priscilla so fast, McKenna had to do a double take. And hurry to get ahead of him.

  As long as she was on the job, she would damn well do it right.

  And she’d deal with the emotional fallout—the searing sense of ownership, of wanting what was not hers to want—when she’d completed her assignment.

  Her step filled with purpose, she reminded Joe, quietly, that he was still under obligation to follow all orders.

  And promised herself that she’d put personal feelings aside and do her best by him.

  She could feel his excitement as he approached the gorgeous woman. And didn’t blame him. He was about to be handed the exoneration he’d been searching for these last many months.

  Joy filled her heart as she thought about that aspect of what was going down. Thrill at the thought of Joe getting his reputation back.

  Of him being able to live his life happily again.

  Keeping her sights on that goal alone, she heard Priscilla ask if they could go inside. In spite of a fully armed, expert bodyguard standing right there, the Bellair heiress was looking around nervously, as though she expected machine guns to come barreling out of the desert or over a hill.

  “Of course,” Joe answered without waiting for McKenna, or even looking her way, which shot a sharp bullet of betrayal through her.

  After all they’d been through, Priscilla Bellair shows up and McKenna’s so easily forgotten?

  A second later, she flamed with shame. If she couldn’t get in the game, someone could die. Was she willing to live with that on her shoulders for the rest of her life?

  If what Priscilla was saying was true, who knew who could have followed her? Or be on their trail?

  Determining that Joe and Priscilla were right, they’d be safer in the rig, she left the car where it was, slowing down entry to the clearing, and hurried them both inside.

  * * *

  Something wasn’t right.

  The moment he made eye contact with Priscilla, standing by the couch in his RV, Joe got a bad feeling.

  Because of who she was about to tell him had framed him? Her father? Her brother? For a split second he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  Her gaze dropped from his almost immediately, and she started to cry again. “I’m so sorry, Joe,” she said.

  And that tone. He recognized it. Had heard it too many times before.

  When she’d been playing on her father’s sympathies.

  “What did you do?” He couldn’t help the sharp tone. If she’d already gone to the press with the news...or told James or Julius that she was on to them and given them time to get out of the country...

  Ideas flashed. Sympathy for Priscilla Bellair did not.

  McKenna had left the door of the rig open. Was standing by it, keeping watch. Inside and out. She had the camera app open on her phone as well.

  “I found out who framed you during your trial, Joe. I knew it wasn’t you. I overheard a conversation. But no one was supposed to get hurt, you know? Bellair Software stock had already rallied—the company would be able to pay back investors who were defrauded, cheap marketing money, really, as doing so would show incredible goodwill from the company and get it a lot of great press. And there was no way you were going to be convicted. There was no hard evidence, no solid proof of anything. And if I said anything...”

  Someone would go to jail.

  “Who, Priscilla?”

  The woman he’d known for years, and had never liked, opened her purse.

  McKenna raised her gun. Pointed it straight at Priscilla’s chest.

  Raising perfectly manicured and glossily painted fake nails, Priscilla held up her cell. “I’m only getting my phone out,” she said quickly, bringing on more of that scared-and-so-sorry tone of voice with the frightened expression to match.

  The act—she wasn’t cutting it, and that worried him.

  Was she stalling? Until someone else could get there?

  Or...it hit him...until she got the text that told her they were safely out of the United States?

  McKenna’s gun stayed up, both of her hands holding it steadily on Priscilla. Whether his bodyguard knew Priscilla was acting, or if she was just being precautious, he didn’t know, but he was thankful she was there.

  Holding her phone but not looking at it, Priscilla bowed her head.

  “Tell me who, Priscilla,” Joe demanded. “And then get out.”

  Her head shot up. “See, there you go again,” she whined. “That tone of voice. Why do you do that? Why do you always act like you think you’re better than me?”

  The cry sounded different. More...real. And he shook his head, confused.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Who are you but some thief kid, the son of a thief, to come into my family, my life, to have my father treating you like more of a family member than his own daughter, and then, when I tried to find a way to make it all work, had graciously decided to make an honest man out of you, a real Bellair, you turned me down...”

  He had no idea what she was talking about. “Other than meaningless flirting, you came on to me one time, at a party, and you were out-of-your-mind drunk.”

  “It took that much alcohol to get me to a point where I could do it...”

  Tears flowed out of the woman’s eyes, and he stared at her.

  “Are you telling me that you knew I was innocent, that you let me take the blame, because you resented me?”

  He couldn’t get there. That someone valued life so little that she’d stoop to spending her time on something so petty?

  “Tell me who framed me, Priscilla.”

  “Now,” McKenna spoke for the first time, a biting tone he’d never heard. “Or we’re done here.”

  “Ah...” The tone was almost eerie. The look that came over Priscilla’s face even more so. “That’s where you’re wrong. You can’t hurt me. I’m the only witness. Joe’s only chance to be exonerated.” And all signs of tears were gone as she cocked her head and opened her mouth to run her tongue along perfectly red lips. “It turns out that I’m the one who gets to call the shots after all. Because the only way I’m testifying is if Joe comes with me, stands by me...”

  “Fine.” He stepped forward. “If that’s what it takes to make this end, I’ll do it.” He’d stand with Satan himself if the devil were willing to give him the name of the man who’d tried to ruin his life.

  Even if it turned out to be James Bellair.

  Made a sickening kind of sense.

  Priscilla had spent half her life trying to get one up on her father...

  “Over my dead body...” Pushing Joe back so suddenly she threw him off balance, McKenna stepped forward.

  “Point your gun all you want, sweetie—” Priscilla’s ugly was out in fuller force than he’d ever seen. “Truth is, Joe needs me to save him, not you.”

  She was right. With his private signature code...no way he’d ever be able to prove someone had stolen it from him. Glen was ready to quit him.

  Clearly McKenna had known that, too.

  As soon as Joe’s private code got them into his encrypted files and they found the bogus bank site there, he’d be fired as a client. Because they would find the programs they were seeking.

  Just like they’d found everything else incriminating on his computer.

  He had no idea how or why...or who...but Priscilla did.

  She’d glanced at her phone. Pushed a button on the side, likely turning on the screen? Watching for the text?

  If he went with her, he could still be a dead man. But he’d rather take his chances than live the rest of his life thought of as a thief.

  He’d been there. Couldn’t go back.

  “Tell me one thing.” McKenna’s voice broke into the tense, waiting silence. With her standing half in front of him, he couldn’t see her face.

  “What’s that?”

  “Was Joe’s father involved?”

  He stared at the back of that curly red head. What in the hell did that matter?

  Was she asking for his sake? Did she think he wanted to know?

  “Yes.”

  He wouldn’t have thought his heart could sink any more with the confirmation. And yet, crazy as it was, it did.

  “You know what you were worth, Joe? A measly forty thousand dollars to sell you out. I couldn’t believe it when I heard that part. That bit about your sealed record, that was a shock to hear, but I can honestly say it made me admire you more, the way you made good.”

  He wasn’t falling for her flattery. Didn’t give a damn what she thought of him. That she’d known, all through his trial, sitting there with her dad and brother and cousin...

  Cousin.

  “It’s Mark, isn’t it?” Made sense. The cousin who’d felt outed when Joe was made CFO and given more shares of stock than Mark had.

  “Uh-uh.” Priscilla shook her head. “It’s not going to be played that way. You and I are going to walk out of here together. I’ve got a rideshare due to arrive anytime now.”

  That was why she’d taken out her phone.

  “You and I are going to take a ride back to Phoenix, and in exchange for my testimony, you’re going to convince my father to make me a vice president of Bellair.”

  His jaw dropped. What the...

  Her laugh was about the ugliest sound he’d ever heard. “See, Joe, right there. That’s the problem. You’re shocked. What, you think I don’t have what it takes? I’m not as good as Julius and Mark...and...and you? I’ve got multiple degrees. I’m more capable than any of you...and yet I’m never even considered for a place in the company.”

  “You have a seat on the board.”

  “A complimentary seat. No one listens to anything I have to say, and with Mark, Julius and my father’s votes all going the same way, mine doesn’t even matter.”

  All true. With controlling stock, the Bellair vote counted two to one and always won.

  Over McKenna’s shoulder, which had to be getting tired holding up her gun, he looked Priscilla straight in the eye. “You really think you can do the work?”

  “I know I can. I grew up in the Bellair household,” she said. “I’ve been programming since I was a kid...”

  The world stopped. No noise. No air. Just whirring.

  It was Priscilla. She’d done it.

  And she needed him out of the way.

  Their little trip, whoever was arriving imminently... He’d be dead before he left Shelter Valley.

  And so would McKenna.

  He couldn’t let that happen. Not because of him.

  “Fine, you deserve the chance,” he told Priscilla, pushing past McKenna, forcing her arm down.

  She elbowed him. “Joe.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I’ve made my decision. All I’ve wanted all along was to be exonerated. To have the guilty party exposed. If this is what I have to do...” He shrugged. Looked straight at Priscilla. “If you’ve been feeling this way for so long, why didn’t you just come talk to me years ago?” he asked. “I’ve always known that if you’d stop your partying and gallivanting, you’d be one hell of a businesswoman...”

  Two could play her game. And he had to buy himself time to figure out if there was a way to save McKenna and keep himself alive, too.

  Priscilla held up her phone. Nodded.

  Her ride was obviously there.

  “Let’s go,” he said, reaching for the woman’s arm, pulling her toward the door.

  “No!” Throwing a foot out in front of him, entangling her ankle in his with a huge thrust up, McKenna tripped him. He saw Priscilla raise a hand...to catch him?...then saw her arm outstretched, before he hit the couch. Flat on his back, he watched as McKenna aimed, Priscilla held her phone straight out, pushed...

  And shards of electricity hit McKenna. Her entire body convulsed for a brief second before she dived, caught Priscilla around the waist and rolled with her down the steps of the rig, landing on top of the evil woman, knocking the air out of her.

  Priscilla hadn’t been looking at a phone. She’d been holding a Taser.

  Jumping into action, Joe grabbed McKenna’s fallen gun and jumped from the rig to the ground in one leap, aiming at Priscilla’s perfect blond curls on the ground.

  Both women were lying there, still, but if they were only winded...

  “The rig...” McKenna’s voice was barely coherent. He saw blood dripping from her lip. “Get in...drive...”

  Ordering him around, even then.

  His heart filled with more fear than he’d ever known, he held the gun steady. He wasn’t a great shot. Needed McKenna to move before he dared...

  “Driuh...” Was she trying repeat her order to drive?

  He was losing her!

  She couldn’t die!

  He cocked the trigger.

  Oh, God, he couldn’t miss. A fraction of an inch and...

  McKenna dropped her head on top of Priscilla’s, bleeding on the blond hair he’d been aiming for.

  Moving forward, planning to move her, he heard tires behind him... Priscilla’s hit man? And then his head exploded with sirens.

  Before he was even sure what was happening, having the thought that Glen had called the Shelter Valley brigade on him, he felt someone clasp his shoulder, squeeze it and take the gun. He heard a strange voice say, “Good work, Joe. We’ll take it from here.”

  Chapter 23

  McKenna heard the sirens through a haze of pain. Being tased was no good. No matter how much training...

  She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t let herself pass out.

  Felt the body beneath her start to move. Made herself dead weight to keep it down. Had a flash of Joe’s naked body beneath hers. Joyous.

  Gasped in air.

  Heard footsteps. Joe?

  Voices fading in and out.

  Felt warm fingers at her throat. “Alive,” she gasped.

  “Medic! Now! I need a medic over here!”

  Running feet. Confusion.

  Joe?

  No, don’t move me yet. Hurts too much.

  Please.

  Hands on her body.

  Joe’s?

  His hands, gently, along her whole body. Touching her. Giving her life.

  Reason for life.

  Joyous.

  She was lifting.

  Excruciating pain.

  Floating.

  Joe?

  * * *

  Filled with dread, with fear, Joe watched as McKenna was put on a stretcher, a stream of blood running from her mouth down to her chin beneath closed eyes.

  “Her pulse is good, man.” Kierland was there, hands in the pockets of his jeans, staring at his work boots.

  Joe braced for the blame, the hate...the man’s beloved sister was lying comatose because of him.

  “There’s blood coming from her mouth...” That couldn’t be good. And he was always the guy who gave it straight up.

  To counteract the thief gene.

  “Looks like she split her lip on her landing. Or bit it. That’s really going to piss her off. As much as she’s practiced falls...”

  He glanced over, the first time he’d taken his gaze off from McKenna. The guy wasn’t spewing.

  Gaze back at the ambulance, he could see two paramedics loading her in.

  And then her father climbing in beside her.

  Saw the bottoms of her tennis shoes just before the door slammed shut.

  And prepared to get through whatever lay ahead.

  * * *

  McKenna came to with a dry mouth, an itchy chin and an inability to get her fingers up to scratch it.

  Pulling at the straps holding her wrists down, she heard someone say, “She’s waking up,” and opened her eyes.

  “I haven’t been asleep,” she announced, saw her father bending over her. “I was just resting,” she explained.

  Saw the smile break out on his face...and the tears in his eyes.

  “Oh, good Lord, girl, you gave me a scare this time.”

  She tried to move, winced and fell back as her midsection met strap and pain seared her.

  “Priscilla Bellair...”

  “Is in custody,” her father said as a paramedic hovered, taking her blood pressure.

  “I think I broke a rib,” she told him.

  “And split your lip.”

  “Damn. I know better than that. It was the tasing...”

  And it hit her. She sprang forward again, fell back and pinned her father with a demanding stare. “Where’s Joe? He didn’t do it,” she said. “Don’t let them—”

  “Shh.” Her father smoothed her hair back from her forehead.

  Which was what told her how very scared he’d really been.

  “We’re in the ambulance, moving,” she said with some level of superiority.

  He nodded, watching her with a still-worried frown.

  “From the cabin to the hospital is only fifteen minutes.”

  “Right again.”

  “I was conscious when they loaded me on the stretcher.”

  “I know.”

  “Means I’ve only been out, at the most, ten minutes.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m not hooked up to oxygen.”

  “Your levels were fine...”