“Used to be. Laurel Hodges. At least, that was her married name.”

TH. Those were the initials of her husband. His name was Tom Hodges. Myles finally knew, but that was little consolation. The woman he’d slept with at the cabin wasn’t even the person he thought she was. No wonder she’d been so secretive, so hard to know. Understanding brought a touch of comfort because it explained so much. And yet…he’d already lost Amber Rose. Only a fool would get emotionally involved in this.

Myles thought of a dozen additional questions he needed to ask. But Rex wouldn’t wait any longer. “She’ll have to tell you the rest,” he said. “She’s got enough going on over there packing up her kids’ stuff. I don’t want her to realize you know until after I’m gone. It’ll only upset her that I told you.” He paused. “There’s just one more thing you need to understand.”

“What’s that?”

“You can’t trust anyone. Especially anyone from California or the Federal Bureau of Prisons.”

Myles frowned. “Don’t tell me you’ve concocted some conspiracy theory. You were just gaining a little credibility.”

Rex didn’t like that response. He came over and got right in Myles’s face. “Listen to me. This gang is more powerful than you think. They bribe, threaten, coerce, do whatever they need to do in order to gain information. If you put Laurel’s location out there, they’ll access it, and they’ll show up long before the cavalry. Or they’ll wait until she’s supposedly safe, and then they’ll make their move.”

Myles refused to back away. “I can’t let anyone know she’s here. Is that what you’re saying?”

“If you do, she’ll wind up dead.”

And with that he walked out, letting the screen door slam behind him.

Myles blew out a sigh as he tried to take in everything he’d just learned—the fact that it was Vivian who’d brought Pat’s killer to Pineview, that she must’ve suspected and hadn’t told him, that she was probably too scared to trust anyone but should’ve trusted him…?.

Sometime later, he sat on the couch and leaned his head back as he continued to think. He must’ve fallen into an uneasy sleep because that sleep was disturbed the following morning when he heard car doors opening and shutting outside.

Leaning up to peer out the window, he saw Jake and Mia standing in Vivian’s driveway while Vivian—or Laurel—and Rex loaded her car.

“How long will we be gone, Mommy?” he could hear Mia ask.

“For a few weeks. It’ll be a great vacation. You’ll get to play with your cousin, see the new baby after she’s born, be with your aunt and uncle.” Vivian’s voice sounded unnaturally high, too high to be as excited as she was pretending.

“I can’t wait!” Jake seemed genuinely enthusiastic. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen Uncle Virgil. I’m going to tell him about the fish I caught.”

Vivian said something Myles couldn’t quite hear; he guessed it was about how proud his uncle would be. Then Mia spoke up again. “Will we get to see Daddy when we’re there?”

The slight delay in Vivian’s response suggested this wasn’t an easy question to answer. “No, sweetheart. I’m sorry. Not this time. Maybe later. Daddy doesn’t live anywhere near Uncle Virgil.”

“Will we get to see Dad for Christmas, then?” Jake asked.

“Maybe,” she replied. “I’m working on it.”

By trying to stop the men who were trying to kill her so she could come out of hiding? Was that what she meant?

“I’m going to ask Santa to bring Daddy to our house for Christmas,” Mia said, which obviously meant it had to happen because Santa would never disappoint her the way mere mortals would.

Neither adult argued with her. Rex kept loading the luggage; Vivian got Mia and Jake buckled into their seats.

“You have everything?” Myles heard Rex ask.

“I think so,” she said.

Rex grabbed her arm before she could climb behind the wheel. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind and go with us? Please?”

She slipped out of his grasp. “I can’t,” she said, and Myles could tell she was weeping.

18

“You look worried.”

Virgil glanced up to see his pregnant wife at the door to their home office. “I don’t know what to do.”

“She won’t come?”

They’d discussed Laurel before, lying in bed last night, whispering so they wouldn’t wake Brady. “No.”

“Do you feel you need to go to Montana?”

The strain in her voice let him know she wouldn’t be glad to see him do that. She was scared of losing him. He was equally scared of losing her. After all he’d been through in his life, he was happy, whole, at last. But he wouldn’t be happy or whole without her.

“I’d go if we weren’t so close to having the baby. I hate leaving Laurel on her own. But…this has been such a difficult pregnancy.”

Peyton came over and sat on his lap, and he rested his forehead on her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. “Are you sorry you married me yet?”

Her hands covered his. She knew he was teasing, but she answered seriously. “I could never be sorry about that.”

He rubbed her big belly, trying to get his baby to move. There was nothing more reassuring to him than feeling their tiny daughter shift inside Peyton’s womb. Peyton had endured so many fertility treatments and dealt with so many complications since those treatments had worked—gestational diabetes, water retention, early cramping. He couldn’t wait to cradle this latest addition to their family in his arms and feel he had half a chance of protecting what they’d fought so hard to create. Fifteen months ago, they’d lost a little boy to a very late miscarriage, and it was worse than anything he’d ever experienced, mostly because the pain wasn’t just his. Peyton had been devastated.

“Why’d this have to come up now?” he grumbled. “Right before the baby?”

“It wouldn’t be any easier afterward,” she said. “You wouldn’t want to leave me with Brady and a newborn.”

True, but what about Laurel? She’d always been so close to him, so loyal, and regardless of what she thought she could do with that gun he’d given her, she wasn’t capable of defending herself. Not against The Crew. They were determined, brutal, relentless. Ink, especially, had no conscience. He’d rape and torture her before he killed her, if he ever got the chance. Rex had called from the airport in Montana to say he’d alerted local law enforcement to what was happening. The sheriff lived next door to Laurel. But was that enough?




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