LITMIR.BIZ

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wedding anniversary. Gaby had been three, Anna just over a year.

      Where would she be now if not for that drunk driver on that rainy Pennsylvania road? Comfortable and secure and happy in the lovely life she and Jaime were building together. Certainly not facing this uncertain future, on the run with two young girls who deserved far more.

      Allie scrubbed her tears away, then turned off the shower and wrapped in a towel. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror over the sink, at the woman staring back at her with big eyes and a choppy brown dye job.

      She wasn’t going to second-guess the choices she had made. This was her birthday, a day of celebration. She had her girls with her and that was all that mattered, the most wonderful gift she could ever need.

      She still mourned her husband and always would, but over the past months the fierceness of it had faded from a raw, sucking chest wound to a slow ache in her heart.

      She suddenly heard a knock at the bathroom door. “Mama,” Gaby chirped. “The nice man from the flower house came to see you.”

      Ack! Allie gazed frantically around the bathroom. The only thing she had to wear in here was a worn, threadbare robe. Since visitors at the front door of the small cottage had a perfect view of the hallway and bathroom, there was no way to slip into her bedroom for something else to put on without the man seeing her.

      Left with no choice, she threw on the robe and ran a comb through her hair, hoping the nice man from the flower house was a kind, elderly gentleman who wouldn’t notice her state of undress.

      She hoped he wasn’t angry at the girls for picking the flowers. But technically the house and its lush flower beds belonged to Ruth and she had apparently given the girls permission to raid them. Allie wasn’t about to let some renter give them a hard time about it.

      Prepared to defend her daughters, she tightened the sash on the robe and walked out of the bathroom.

      Shock hit her hard in the stomach at the sight of the man standing by the front door.

      Oh, mercy.

      This was no kind, elderly gentleman.

      The other nurses she used to work with would have said the man from the flower house looked very nice indeed, Allie had to admit. He looked to be in his midthirties, dressed in a smoke-colored suit, a crisp white dress shirt and a discreet navy tie. Beneath the suit, broad shoulders rippled with power and unyielding strength.

      He was tall, well over six feet, with cool gray eyes and short-cropped dark hair that still looked damp, as if he had just stepped out of his own shower. A part of her mind registered that he smelled divine. Like soap and aftershave and just-washed male.

      His strong, masculine features looked freshly shaved, and Allie was stunned by the sudden desire to run her fingers along the skin of that hard, tanned jawline.

      Allie swallowed hard, disconcerted and a little frightened by the unwelcome tug of awareness. She didn’t want to notice this man. She wanted to stay frozen forever in her grief for Jaime.

      “Yes?” she said, uncomfortably aware her voice sounded cold, rude. It wasn’t his fault her unruly hormones suddenly decided to wake up after two years of suspended animation.

      If her neighbor was surprised by her unwelcome tone, he quickly concealed it. “Hello. I live next door. Gage McKinnon.”

      He waited for her to introduce herself and Allie scrambled for a moment to remember what she was supposed to say.

      “Lisa Connors.” She finally supplied the alias she had practiced, derivations of both her first name and her maiden name. “I believe you’ve met my daughters. Gabriella and Anna.”

      Since she hadn’t been able to figure out a convincing way to persuade the girls they all had to use pretend names for a while, she had made the difficult decision to stick with their real names while they were on the run, risky though it might be.

      “Yes. They were in my yard earlier. Actually, that’s why I stopped by.”

      “Oh?” she said coolly. If he was going to yell at her daughters, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

      A muscle flexed in that strong jaw and he met her hostile gaze without a flinch. “I just wanted to give you a friendly warning to be a little more careful with them.”

      “Excuse me?” She stared at him.

      “Your girls were outside alone in the neighborhood when it was barely daylight and not another soul was around.”

      “You were, apparently.”

      “Right. I was a complete stranger, but they had no problem striking up a conversation with me and telling me all kinds of details about their life. Their names, their ages, the fact that today is your birthday. That their father is dead. I know practically their life story.”

      Oh, no. Allie fought the urge to press a hand to her suddenly queasy stomach. Gaby could talk the bark off a tree. Her sweet, openhearted daughter simply didn’t understand the meaning of discretion and Allie didn’t know how to teach her.

      If she didn’t figure out a way, though, Gaby was going to someday let slip too much information to the wrong person, details that would identify her mother as a fugitive.

      The girls thought they were simply off on a new adventure. Allie didn’t want to frighten them by telling them this was all so deadly serious.

      She turned back to the neighbor to whom Gaby had revealed so much. “All fascinating information, I’m sure.”

      He glanced over at the girls, engrossed in Sesame Street, then lowered his voice. “If I were some kind of child predator it would be very fascinating information. Once I had their names, it wouldn’t take me long to completely win their trust. You should have a talk with them. Warn them to be a little more careful. In my opinion, girls that young shouldn’t be wandering the neighborhood by themselves. You should never have let them outside without supervision.”

      “I was asleep!” she exclaimed.

      “All the more reason to be concerned. Anything could have happened and you would have awakened to find your daughters gone.”

      “I can take care of my daughters, Mr. McKinnon.”

      “I never said you couldn’t. I’m just bringing it to your attention. A mother who cares about her children’s safety can’t be too careful.”

      If you go into insulin shock again, anything could happen to those girls. A fragment of testimony from the custody battle slithered through her mind in a nasty whisper. Look what happened last time. You were behind the wheel and nearly killed them all.

      If you love our granddaughters at all, you must see that your condition makes you incapable of caring for them on your own.

      Oh, how those words had hurt. Irena and Joaquin had gouged at her mercilessly, again and again until even she had almost been convinced she was an unfit mother.

      She had taken it from them in that courtroom—she’d had no choice—but she was not about to listen to the same kind of accusations from a stranger, even one who looked like sin and smelled like heaven.

      She lifted her chin. “My children’s safety is my own concern, Mr. McKinnon. I’ll thank you to mind your own business.”

      His mouth tightened into a hard line. “This is my business.”

      He reached inside his breast pocket and pulled out a flat black leather case. He opened it and thrust it at her and Allie’s anger changed instantly to a terrible, icy dread at the sight of the shimmering gold badge pinned inside.

      Please, no. Somehow he had found her and now she would lose everything. She waited for him to break out handcuffs, but he only reached for the doorknob.

      “I work for the FBI’s Salt Lake City field office, Mrs. Connors,” he said, his voice distant and cool. “I see hideous things done to children on a daily basis.

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