LITMIR.BIZ

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was pure bliss—and then climbing into bed. She fell asleep the instant her head hit the pillow.

      Mallory had no idea how long she slept, but much like the night before, a strange sound dragged her awake. She stayed perfectly still, straining to listen.

      She heard it again. A muffled sound coming from Jonah’s room. She climbed from her bed, pulled on her grungy clothes and pushed open the connecting door.

      Jonah was talking in his sleep, thrashing on the bed, obviously in the throes of a nightmare. She crossed over to shake his shoulder. “Jonah, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

      Almost instantly, he shot upward and grabbed his gun. She shrank away, holding out her hand to calm him down. “It’s me, Jonah. Mallory. I was only trying to wake you up from your nightmare.”

      He slowly lowered his weapon, letting out his breath in a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I— You took me by surprise.”

      He avoided her gaze. A faint sheen of sweat covered his face and dampened the hair at his temples. Definitely a nightmare. “Jonah, who’s Drew? You were muttering something about Drew.”

      His expression closed, and she sensed that whatever the source of his nightmare, he wasn’t inclined to talk about it. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

      “No need to apologize.” She noticed with surprise that the Gideon Bible was lying open on his bedside table. Had Jonah actually been reading the Bible? The only person she knew who’d ever read the Bible on a regular basis was Alyssa.

      He must have noticed her gaze because he flashed a lopsided smile. “Renewing my faith helps me relax, especially in times of stress. You might want to give it a try.”

      She frowned and shook her head. “No thanks. Not after everything I’ve been through.”

      He frowned, but didn’t look surprised by her attitude. “I’m sure you have your reasons for not believing, Mallory, but have you ever considered how God might help shoulder your burden rather than add to it?”

      She wished there was a tactful way to change the subject. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. Having Anthony Caruso attempt to kill me isn’t the worst I’ve suffered.” She told herself to shut up before she found herself blubbering about her past.

      The last thing she wanted or needed was Jonah’s sympathy.

      “You’re right, Mallory. I don’t know everything you’ve suffered. But I do know about my own experience.” There was a long pause before he continued. “Drew was my partner. He was a few years older than me, and he taught me everything I needed to know about being a cop.”

      The stark agony in his eyes made her wish she’d never asked about his nightmare. She knew, only too well, how reliving the past only made it harder to forget.

      “One day, we caught this kid running drugs. He was young, barely eleven, and I wanted the guy who was pulling the strings on this kid. Drew wanted to haul him in, but I convinced him to try it my way first. The kid was so young, and he looked up at me with big eyes, telling me he’d show us where he was supposed to take the money. I believed him. Drew tried to talk me out of it, but I insisted. The kid led us right into a trap.”

      She gasped, the scene so vivid she felt as if she was right there with him.

      “And when the shooting started, I instinctively protected the kid who’d betrayed us, leaving my partner open. He died as a result of my actions.” Jonah’s expression was grim as he faced her. “So while I don’t know what you’ve been through, Mallory, I do know that God can help carry a heavy burden.”

      A long silence stretched between them, and she had no idea what to say. But she realized that Jonah’s past was just as difficult to live with as hers.

      Jonah reached out to touch the Bible. “Without faith, I would never have made it through the worst time of my life.”

      She gave a helpless shrug. “I guess I just don’t understand how believing in God helps.”

      “It’s hard to explain,” he admitted. “But I can tell you that God doesn’t abandon us when we need Him. He’s there for us, always.”

      She didn’t believe God was there for her. Not back when she was seventeen, or when Caruso’s thug tried to kill her.

      Unless God had sent Jonah to save her?

      No, she didn’t really believe that, and this wasn’t the time or place to argue with Jonah over religion.

      “Maybe at some point, you’ll give it a try,” Jonah said. “However, right now, we need to think of some way to get evidence against Caruso.”

      She was glad he let the subject drop. “I went back over the night of the fundraiser, and there is one other thing I remember. Although I’m not sure it means much.”

      He leaned forward. “What is it?”

      “There was a brief disagreement between Jefferson and Caruso. I didn’t really pay much attention then, but looking back, it was right about the time Jefferson took a phone call. I think the news may have been about Schaefer.”

      “Can you remember exactly what was said? By

      either Jefferson or Caruso?”

      “Caruso said something like, ‘I wouldn’t have to worry if you weren’t such an amateur.’” She wished she’d heard what they were saying. “At the time, I assumed they were talking about investments, but now I’m thinking the conversation may have referred to having Schaefer stabbed and being forced to attribute the stabbing to gang activity.”

      “You could be right. Nice detective work, Mallory.”

      She blushed and shrugged off the compliment. No doubt Jonah was simply trying to stay on her good side. “So now what? Where do we go from here?”

      He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Good question. Give me some time to pull myself together, and I’ll try to come up with a plan.”

      “As long as your plan doesn’t involve me turning myself in to the D.A.,” she murmured as she turned away. No matter how good of a detective Jonah was, he couldn’t possibly find proof she couldn’t even be sure existed. And they couldn’t stay on the run forever—they both had jobs, careers to get back to.

      A wave of hopelessness washed over her. For a fleeting moment, she surprised herself and considered trying to pray. Except she didn’t know how and didn’t really think God would listen to someone like her even if she did.

      She was better off relying only on herself—the way she’d always done.

      * * *

      Jonah examined his incision as well as he could in the mirror above the sink in the bathroom. It looked worse than he’d anticipated. He applied some antibacterial ointment before slapping a new gauze dressing over the area where he’d popped two stitches. At least the wound had stopped bleeding. He was glad Alyssa had forced him to bring first-aid supplies, although she’d no doubt be upset that he’d opened the wound. Belatedly remembering his antibiotics, he popped one, hoping the pills would be strong enough to ward off infection.

      For a moment he stared grimly at his reflection in the mirror. What he really needed to do was call his boss and ask for someone else to watch over Mallory. Not only was he still recuperating from his stab wound and subsequent surgery, he also was too close to making the same mistake he had in the past—letting his emotions get in the way of his job.

      He couldn’t cross the line and begin caring about Mallory. He never should have accepted her help in finding evidence against Caruso. She wasn’t a cop. What he needed to do was to convince his boss to put her up in some sort of safe house. A place where able-bodied cops could watch over her instead of a wounded warrior like him.

      As he dressed, his cell phone rang. He picked up his phone to see who’d called.

      He was expecting

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