LITMIR.BIZ

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to Eric, you know that—”

      “Not Eric. Justin.”

      “What? No, of course not.”

      Grant shot out of the parking lot. Left Justin in the dust.

      The scent of vanilla drifted to him. Vanilla...still?

      “You...you didn’t have to pay my bail.”

      The SUV cut quickly through the streets. A light rain had fallen, and the black pavement gleamed in the growing night.

      “Thank you,” she said, her voice soft. “I will find a way to repay you.”

      “We already covered that.”

      He could feel her eyes on him, but Grant kept staring at the road. He wanted to get her back to his place. To have her safe. Then...then they’d clear the air.

      When did you start to carry so many secrets, Scarlett?

      “My brothers are already investigating. This case won’t ever go to trial,” he said. He just needed to find evidence vindicating her. He would find it. Then he’d turn the material over to her lawyer and the DA. They’d get the charges dropped.

      “You believe I’m innocent.”

      She sounded surprised by that.

      “You don’t even have proof yet—and you believe me?”

      “You said you were innocent.” He braked at a traffic light, finally looked at her. Damn it, she was so beautiful that she made him ache. He’d never been able to forget her. No matter where he went. Or what he did. He cleared his throat. “You never lied to me.”

      She glanced away from him, staring out the window. “People can change a lot in ten years.”

      His head cocked as he studied her. “There’s one thing I know...”

      Scarlett glanced back at him.

      “I know killers.” He’d seen plenty during his time—during missions that could never be discussed or forgotten. “And I know that you aren’t a killer.” Knowing and proving, well, those were two very different things.

      But I will prove her innocence.

      The light changed to green. The vehicle surged forward.

      “Where are we going?” Scarlett asked. “My condo is on the other side of town—”

      “I know where your condo is.” He’d already been there. Already searched through the place. “We’re going to my house.”

      “Your...house?”

      He accelerated as they headed toward the outskirts of Austin. He didn’t live on his family’s ranch, not anymore, but two of his brothers did. “Don’t worry we’ll have plenty of privacy.”

      “I wasn’t worried about privacy.”

      “Then what are you worried about?”

      Silence.

      His jaw locked. “You better get used to the idea of being with me, Scarlett. Because I just put up half a million dollars for your freedom, and until this case is over, you and I will be staying very close to one another.”

      As close as he could get.

      But that wasn’t just because of the money.

      It was because of...her.

      What happens when you realize you made the worst mistake of your life when you were a clueless, twenty-two-year-old kid?

      Answer—you do anything, you do everything, to correct that mistake.

      * * *

      SCARLETT STONE WASN’T in jail any longer. She’d escaped so quickly—with that jerk Grant McGuire at her side.

      The McGuires...they’d always thought they were so special. So much better than everyone else.

      Wild and reckless as kids, now they thought they were the law in the area?

      Hell, no.

      Grant wasn’t getting another chance with Scarlett. Their past was over. Finished.

      Just as Grant would be...

      One lover in the grave...and another will be joining him.

      Scarlett wasn’t going to get a happily-ever-after ending.

      She would only have grief and pain.

      * * *

      SHE WAS IN his house. Grant’s house. The place was massive, hidden far from the lights of Austin. No, this wasn’t his father’s old ranch, but if you headed to the east and kept leaving those bright lights, you’d hit the place.

      Too many memories.

      The memories were what had kept her away from Austin for so long, and then, eventually, the memories had brought her back.

      But Eric thought I came here for him. He got his job transfer, and wanted me to move here with him.

      She’d come back to Austin, and the first day after she’d arrived, she’d seen Grant.

      He hadn’t seen her.

      Once, he was the only one who ever seemed to see the real me. Then he’d left.

      They were in his den. He was at the bar, pouring a drink. He was going to ask her questions now, and she couldn’t lie to him. Not with her life on the line.

      “Want a drink?” Grant asked.

      “No, thank you.”

      He laughed as he turned toward her. “Now, Scarlett, aren’t we far past the polite stage?”

      Her brows climbed. “What stage are we at?” She had no clue.

      He brought her a drink. She didn’t even know what was in that glass. “The stage where you should trust me,” he told her.

      She took the glass from him.

      “You probably need that,” he said, eyes assessing, “after what you’ve been through.”

      The past two months had been hell.

      Finding Eric’s body...the suspicions...then, so recently, the arrest. The cell. I do need this.

      She drained the contents in a few quick gulps. But the liquid burned and she gasped as tears stung her eyes.

      Grant’s faint laughter came once more, rolling over her. “I don’t think you were made to chug whiskey.”

      He took her glass and patted her on the back.

      She stopped choking.

      He didn’t stop touching her. She was far too conscious of his touch. The heat from his hand seemed to penetrate right through her clothing.

      “I think you were made for other things,” he murmured.

      Her gaze was caught and held by his. Grant stood so close that his mouth was just inches away. It might be wrong, but she’d never forgotten his kiss.

      He’d been the first boy to kiss her. The first to touch her...

      The first to break her heart.

      Scarlett stepped away from him. “What do you need to know?”

      He blinked at her. Then a mask seemed to slide over his face. He lifted his glass and drained his whiskey, but didn’t have the choking, gasping issue that she’d had. Of course not.

      Scarlett huffed out a breath and paced around the den. There weren’t many personal touches in that place. A TV. Two couches. She headed toward the mantel. One framed photograph rested there—a shot of Grant, his siblings and his parents.

      They’d been good to me. Grant’s parents had been so kind to her after Grant left. After she’d

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