Bed of Lies

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 512 Forest Lake Drive Warner Robins, Georgia 31093 Bed of Lies Copyright © 2007 by Pam Champaigne Cover by Scott Carpenter ISBN: 1-59998-509-8 www.samhainpublishing.com All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: June 2007

Bed of Lies Pam Champagne

Dedication To my “Irish twins”, Jof and Erika. You’ve enriched my life more than you realize. I’m proud of you.

Bed of Lies

Chapter One Ace Bear blew warm breath into his cupped hands and pulled his parka tight around his neck against the bitter cold rolling off the Atlantic. A northeast wind battered the desolate area with the vengeance of a Viking wreaking havoc on a peasant village. He’d forgotten how harsh and unforgiving late fall could be on the Maine coast, forgotten the bone-piercing chill, the way his eyes watered and the inside of his nose stuck together when he breathed. He yanked his collar higher and buried his nose into the warm down. Leaning against the rough bark of a spruce tree, he stared at the picturesque white clapboard church. Places of worship didn’t mean much to him. He preferred to talk to God as he walked through a forest, paddled on the big lakes or gazed at the night stars. All the guests must be inside by now. It was do or die time—do or let go time. Hell, he thought he’d let go a long time ago. He stared a moment more, pushed away from the spruce and walked forward. Heads turned when he entered, probably expecting the bride. Many of the faces were familiar. Ace stifled the urge to raise his hand and say “how” like Indians in those old black-and-white movies. Benches squeaked as people leaned over to whisper to their neighbor. He slipped into an empty pew at the back and shrugged out of his coat. Word rippled through the crowd. Ace Bear had showed up at Brenna MacKenzie’s wedding. And by the Jesus, he was dressed in buckskins and had his hair in a braid. Ace tuned it out. There were more important things to worry about than the local yokels. A gust of wind signaled the bride’s arrival. Brenna entered the church, her hand curled around her brother’s arm. She floated by, an www.samhainpublishing.com

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ethereal vision lost in yards of lace and satin. Ace’s heart lurched at her paleness. She looked fragile enough to shatter. He hadn’t planned on facing Brenna today, but he’d heard about her getting married and had no choice. He had to stop this farce of a wedding. Spinster Sadie Harvell’s bony fingers pounded out the bridal processional on an out-of-tune piano. The woman must be over a hundred by now. Brenna reached the groom’s side too soon for Ace’s peace of mind. He shifted on the hard bench and glanced at his watch for the tenth time. Where the hell was Chris? If the kid didn’t show up soon and disrupt the wedding, the task would fall to him, and he’d rather not draw any more attention right now. A smile tugged at his lips. Ace Bear causing a scene was something this community expected. Today, they’d be disappointed. As much as he’d like to rock this coastal town on its ass, he had to keep a low profile. The fact that he’d returned at all was enough to stir up the natives. Ace tensed as the groom’s gaze came to rest on the rise and fall of Brenna’s breasts beneath the sequined bodice. Long suppressed anger shot through him. He’d drag her out of the church, kicking and screaming before he’d let that bastard touch her. Despite what Brenna had done twelve years ago, she didn’t deserve to be shackled to a man like Anson. Reverend Marston smiled at the bride and groom then turned his attention to the guests. “Welcome everyone. We are gathered here—” From the right side of the church came a loud pop. A window imploded, showering a section of the congregation with glass. Mouth working like a fish out of water, the Reverend dropped to the floor and scrambled behind the podium. Chaos reigned. Blood spurted from a gunshot wound in Anson’s shoulder and splattered bright red drops on the white wedding gown before he slid to the floor. The screams of several women echoed throughout the church, adding fuel to the bedlam. A few dove for cover; others crawled toward the side exit.

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Damn it. He’d told Chris to disrupt the wedding, not shoot the freakin’ groom. Ace hoisted himself on the bench seat for a better view. The groom lay sprawled, face down, blood trickling from his wound. A wave of pity hit Ace as Brenna, her blue eyes wide with terror, brushed frantically at the bloodstains on her dress. Pity shifted to astonishment when she kicked off her high-heeled shoes and fled through a side door. Ace grabbed his parka and bolted out the front entrance, running smack into Chris Yellowtree. The boy grabbed Ace’s arm for balance. “Sorry I’m late, Ace. Damn bike wouldn’t start.” Ace didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The full-blooded Passamaquoddy stood there in the wintry morning, wearing only a loincloth. “Show’s cancelled, Chris. Someone shot the groom.” His dark eyes widened. “Yeah? Heard a shot as I drove down Main. Figured someone was target shooting or deer hunting, maybe. Not surprised, though. Anson wasn’t well-liked in this town.” Ace didn’t want to talk about Anson Carter. “Did you see Brenna?” “Yeah, I think so. Saw a white streak running across Beal’s field. Man, that woman can move.” Ace relaxed. Brenna, a barefoot bride, was running to the blueberry barrens. He knew exactly where to find her. “Take my advice, Chris. High tail it back to the reservation. All hell’s gonna break loose. Stick around and you’ll end up the prime suspect.” Chris grinned. “Don’t need to tell me twice.” He charged into the dense bushes next to the church. A motorcycle engine revved to life. The bike shot out of the shrubbery, skidded in the dirt and headed west. Ace grinned. Quite a sight. A half-naked Indian on a motorcycle. The low rumble of voices from within the church warned Ace that the remaining guests had begun to stir. He took a last look inside. Reverend Marston and Colin knelt on either side of Anson. Any second these

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people would react to the nightmare they’d witnessed. He wanted to be gone before that happened. Ace’s long stride brought him to his SUV in record time. The engine purred to life the instant he turned the key, and he gunned it. Five miles down the road, a county ambulance sped by, heading toward the church. “With any luck you’ll be too late,” he muttered. Two miles later, he turned right and bumped off the pavement into a dirt parking lot. As he exited the vehicle, two blue state troopers’ cars roared down the road, sirens blaring. Big drawback to living in such an isolated part of the state. Often, help didn’t come fast enough. He cleared the three wooden steps in one stride. A bell jingled above the door when he walked in. A quick visual scan told him that the Coastal Country Store hadn’t changed in the past twelve years. Joe French, the owner, stood behind the counter, as he had most of his life. Ten years older than Ace, Joe hadn’t been part of the crowd that had bullied him in his youth. One look at the man’s chubby face told Ace he was close to bursting with the need to tell someone about the shooting. “Hey, Joe.” Joe did a jig in his excitement. “Ace. Heard you were back in town. Didja hear the news?” Ace sauntered to the aisle where a limited choice of canned goods sat on dusty shelves. Same shelves they’d sat on twelve years ago. “What news is that?” He picked up four cans of tomato soup. “Somebody up and shot Brenna MacKenzie’s husband.” Ace glanced up and added a box of crackers and one of dry milk. “Husband? Didn’t know she got hitched.” A six-pack of Coke and his hands were full. “It just happened. Right after the ‘I do’, someone blasted the guy. Then the filly up and run away with a stranger.” Ace’s mouth twitched in amusement. He placed the food items on the counter and moved toward the back of the store. God, he loved to watch rumors escalate. And nowhere in the world did they mushroom like in this town. Someday he might write a book about Spruce Harbor. 8

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Joe’s voice followed him. “Always did think Daniel’s girl was a bit wild. Course, you know her better n’ me.” His tone hinted that he’d love to hear Ace’s opinion on the subject. Ace worked his way to the first aid section. Brenna’s feet would need treatment. “Water under the bridge, Joe. Haven’t seen Brenna since we were kids.” He picked up a box of gauze and blew off the dust. Probably the same box he’d wanted to buy when he was a kid but didn’t have enough money. He grabbed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a box of Epsom salts, some Bag Balm and was ready to hit the road. Joe peered at Ace over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses as he rang up the items. “Injure yourself, Ace?” “Not me. One of the kids on the reservation stepped on a nail.” The lie rolled off his tongue with ease. Joe shook his bald head. “Them rusty nails are nasty business. Make sure the kid gets a tetanus shot.” Ace reached in the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out a well-worn leather wallet and handed Joe thirty dollars. “Will do.” “Heard you’re looking for property. Found anything?” Joe asked. There was no closed season on fishing for information in Spruce Harbor. “Nope.” Ace grasped the paper bag. Joe yanked it back. “Ya know, Ace. I hope you don’t blame me for what happened in the past.” He kept his expression blank, holding Joe’s gaze until the man cleared his throat and shifted his attention to the cash register. “Ya know, about the way people treated you when you were a kid. I was older. I probably should have, um, you know, stepped in and put a stop to it.” Ace leaned over the counter and grabbed the bag. “I believe in leaving the past where it belongs—in the past. Keep the change.” He strode from the store, pissed at letting Joe’s comment put a burr in his side. Back in the SUV, he opened a Coke and guzzled half the can. Chewing on Joe’s half-assed apology, he drove two more miles down Route One and turned left onto a narrow, winding, dirt path. He made www.samhainpublishing.com

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the numerous turns, surprised they’d stayed in his memory all these years. He frowned, not sure he liked the implication. He’d come a long way. If only the demons of his youth would stop surfacing. At least he’d learned to contain them. He could even chuckle at his nickname back then. Geronimo. Dumb-assed town. Couldn’t even get their Indian tribes straight. A few had called him Running Bear. Little did they realize he’d always liked that particular taunt. He could outrun anyone in town. Except for, perhaps, Brenna. Chris had told him not much had changed in Spruce Harbor. Nowadays most people swallowed their bigotry, because it was politically incorrect not to. The thought that anyone in this town actually gave a rat’s ass about political correctness made him want to howl with laughter. What a freakin’ joke. The younger ones might be more accepting, but his generation and the ones before still hated Indians. He’d bet his last dollar on it. At least the instigator, Daniel MacKenzie, was dead. If someone didn’t step into his shoes, there might be hope for Spruce Harbor yet. Ace drank in the simple beauty of the landscape as he drove. The low growing blueberry plants, now bright red, gave the barrens a look of the tundra. Even the snowy owls agreed. Hundreds of them soon would arrive from the arctic to spend their winters hunting prey on the almost treeless terrain. In late summer, the barrens crawled with migrant workers, mostly Indians, although he’d heard that now Mexican’s came to pick, too. Thousands of acres of blueberry fields and hundreds of identical intersecting dirt roads that led nowhere. Without a compass or a topographical map, a person unfamiliar with the barrens could get lost. Until it was time to pick next August, the fields would remain deserted, except for the early summer months when a multitude of black bears waited patiently for the berries to ripen. A hunting cabin built by Brenna’s father sat deep in the barrens. That cabin had been her sanctuary years ago, and Ace bet his life that’s

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where she’d gone today. He grew warm as unwanted memories of times he and Brenna had spent there nudged his mind. The four-by-four SUV bumped its way across the fields toward its destination. Sure enough, thick gray smoke spiraled from the chimney. He drove into a thicket of alder bushes, wincing as branches scratched the SUV’s doors. Funny how he’d regressed into the past. He’d always hidden his truck back then and automatically did so now. Bag under one arm, Ace walked to the door. The cabin had been built with only one window, and it wasn’t in the front. Stupid design. Man should be able to see who came knocking at the door. He rapped on the wood and waited fifteen seconds. “Brenna, I know you’re in there. Open the damn door.” The hinges squeaked as the door swung open, and Ace looked down the cold metal of a shotgun barrel.

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Chapter Two Brenna’s lips curved into a semblance of a smile. Cold blue eyes dominated her heart-shaped face. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she drawled, her grip tightening on the shotgun. “As I live and breathe, if it isn’t Ace Bear in the flesh. Thought I saw you in the church. Get back in your truck and leave. I’m not in the mood for visitors.” Words stuck in his throat. He’d imagined many scenarios of their first meeting. Being at the receiving end of a loaded shotgun wasn’t one of them. Beneath the layers of anger on her face lurked the pain of a wounded deer. Beautiful dark hair so recently wound into curls and pinned high had escaped to cascade over her shoulders. Hairpins stuck out here and there. A few remaining curls sat precariously on top of her head like a cockeyed hat. Smeared eye makeup gave her the appearance of having two black eyes. Her skin was paler than it had been when she walked down the aisle, and she still wore the voluminous wedding dress splotched with blood. His fingers itched to rip it from her body and burn the damn thing. Bare toes peeked out from under the hem. “Put down the damn gun, Brenna. You know better than to point a weapon at someone you don’t intend to shoot.” Sweat beaded at his hairline. He hoped he hadn’t misjudged her. After all, he hadn’t seen her in years and people did change. If she blew him away, he had only himself to blame. “I’m here to help you,” he continued, striving for a calm tone. Anger, then fear, raced across her face. With a sigh of acceptance, she lowered the shotgun, turned and placed it on the wobbly kitchen

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table. Ace stepped into the cabin and kicked the door shut. The resounding slam echoed throughout the small area. The paper bag crackled as he put it on the table next to the gun. “Sit down.” In a show of rare obedience, she sank into the chair he’d pulled away from the table. Who was this woman? The one he’d once known would have told him to shove it up his ass. Ace ran back to his truck and grabbed a flannel shirt from behind the seat. Brenna hadn’t stirred when he returned. Her gaze remained fixed on the wall. Familiar with the cabin, he pulled a pot out of the cupboard, opened a can of soup and set it on the wood stove. Then he filled the tea kettle with water and lit a burner on the small gas stove. For a quick fix, gas beat wood every time. He hunkered to the floor in front of the silent woman he’d once loved, held her cold hands and vigorously rubbed them. A low moan came from her throat. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything will be okay.” Jesus. Where was the pleasure he should be feeling from her pain? “Brenna, talk to me. Why were you marrying Anson Carter?” He already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her lips. A weak spark snapped from her blue eyes. “None of your damn business.” “Carter’s the worst kind of vermin. He’d put his own mother out in the street if her rent was overdue.” Brenna’s mouth tightened, but she remained silent. The tea kettle let out a shrill whistle. He rose and found a stainless steel dishpan under the sink. Once he’d filled it with hot water, he added cold from the hand pump. Brenna’s docility unnerved him. He pulled her out of the chair and turned her around. His fingers fumbled with the multitude of tiny pearl buttons on the back of the gown. No wonder she still wore the damn thing. On the fourth button, he gave up and reached in his pocket for his jackknife. She glanced over her shoulder when the blade snapped open. Her eyes grew wide and she bolted away, knocking over the chair.

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Did she think he was going to knife her? “Relax. I’m cutting off your dress. Too many buttons.” Her eyes remained wary, but she stilled. He sliced through the material, and the gown slid from her shoulders to the floor. His traitorous body hardened as she stood in front of him in a strapless bustier and a floor-length white satin slip. A silver chain hung around her neck, its end tucked in her cleavage. With a trembling hand he hooked a finger around the chain and slid the metal from its warm nest. Too late, Brenna made a grab for his wrist. For long moments he stared at the half-heart dangling at the end of that chain. Memories rushed back with the force of rivers flowing down the mountains in spring. He’d bought one for each of them. Two half hearts that fit together, each worn separately on a chain. One for Ace, one for Brenna. After all these years, she still wore hers. What did this mean? Her bitter voice dragged him out of the past. “Happy?” She tugged the charm from his fingers. “I don’t understand.” Brenna tilted her head and held his gaze. “Every woman has a man in their past that they can’t forget. You’re mine.” In a daze, he helped her put on the flannel shirt then moved toward the stove before she saw the bulge in his pants. He placed a mug of hot tomato soup in front of her. “Drink this.” Brenna looked everywhere except at him. He flipped a package of saltines to the middle of the table. “Once you get some food in your body, you’ll warm up. Feel more like the woman I remember.” Brenna burned with embarrassment. The man had walked out on her when she was pregnant with his child. And still she wore a memento of him around her neck. What was he thinking? Why had he returned to Spruce Harbor?

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She’d caught a glimpse of him as she’d walked down the aisle. Would have fallen if Colin hadn’t held her upright. When had he arrived in Spruce Harbor? With her busy schedule, it was no wonder she hadn’t heard any of the rumors that must be flying around town. All her odd jobs left zero time to listen to local gossip. She hardened her heart. The bastard had disappeared off the face of the earth as soon as she’d signed the affidavit acquitting him of any wrong-doing in Billie Crane’s death. Brenna closed her eyes. God, she was tired. “Why are you here, Ace?” He dragged the stainless steel pan to where she sat. “Taking care of you. Put your feet in here.” He kneeled on the floor, lifted her bloody feet and placed them in the water. “Why?” “You need to be taken care of. Your feet are a mess.” “Not why are you here at the cabin. Why are you in Spruce Harbor? How did you find me?” She took a foot out of the pan and started to rise. Ace grabbed her shoulders, forcing her to stay seated. “Want to get an infection? What the hell were you thinking running across the barrens barefooted? You’re lucky you didn’t get frostbite.” A shudder shook her body. Ace walked over and pulled a crocheted afghan from the bottom of the bed. “This will help.” He draped the multi-colored throw around her shoulders. “I’ll stoke the fire.” “Is Anson dead?” “I doubt it.” What a shame. “Who shot him?” “I was hoping you’d tell me.” Surprised, Brenna looked up. “Me? How should I know? Why did you come back to Spruce Harbor? After all these years?” “Why do you think?”

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She pushed the cup of soup away. “Cut the shit, Ace. I don’t play guessing games. Remember?” He eased away from the counter. Her heart pumped harder, bringing a prickly sensation to her cold fingers. When he reached her, he knelt and removed her feet from the pan, wrapping them in a towel. Even though his gaze held hers, his dark eyes kept their secrets. It seemed that Ace had become a master at disguising emotions. So different from the young man she’d known and loved. The one who’d worn his heart pinned to his shirt for everyone to see. “I’m here to punish you. Make you pay for every hurt you inflicted on me.” Brenna pushed back into her chair to escape his cruel words. Words that made no sense. Bile rose in her throat. For a moment, she thought she might faint. She blinked once and he laughed. “You should see your face. I never used to frighten you.” He continued to dry her feet. “You haven’t heard why I’m here? I’m looking to buy a piece of land.” “Why? You hate it here.” He shrugged as he rose and tossed the towel onto the back an empty chair. “Spruce Harbor is one of the most beautiful spots on the coast of Maine. I want to build an apartment complex. A place where the migrant workers can live during blueberry season. An animal shouldn’t have to stay in those shacks they’re forced to live in for two months. No running water, no bathroom facilities.” “Much like this place.” She mulled over his words. The explanation sounded feasible. Why didn’t she believe him? Was it because he evaded her eyes? At the moment, Brenna was too tired to push the issue. “Ready to go home? The cops will want to talk to you.” Panic welled in her chest, Ace’s reason for being in Spruce Harbor forgotten. “About what? I don’t know anything.”

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His piercing eyes seemed to nail her to the chair. “They’ll ask their usual questions. Did Anson have any enemies? Anyone make any recent threats against him?” “How should I know? I barely knew the man.” Brenna could have cut out her tongue as soon as the words left her mouth. Ace’s brows rose. “Interesting. Why marry him?” “None of your business. And don’t say another word,” she warned. “You’re not the only one who can keep secrets.” “I doubt the authorities will see that way.” Brenna groaned. He was right. If the truth about why she was marrying Anson Carter came out, her family’s shame would be an open book. The buzzing in Spruce Harbor would drown out the honey bees old man Foster kept in his hives to pollinate the blueberries during the summer. She rubbed her forehead to ease the pain. “I’m so damn tired. Can’t they wait until tomorrow? I want to spend the night here.” Ace’s gaze slid to the bed across the room. Did he, too, remember the long hours they’d spent in that bed? The bed where their daughter had been conceived? Don’t go there, Brenna. Concentrate on your present dilemma. “It’s only a matter of time before either your mother or brother tells the cops where you are.” She shook her head. “They probably think I’ve run to—they don’t remember this place. I’m the only one who ever used it.” Ace emptied the wash pan in the sink. “Where else would your family think you’d go?” he asked as he crouched in front of her and gently took her feet in his hands. He spread a thick layer of Bag Balm on the scratches and wrapped gauze around each foot. “Nowhere. I meant to say they wouldn’t worry about me.” She shifted, uncomfortable with the tingles running up her legs. Her body remembered his touch as if it had been yesterday.

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“You’re lucky. Only minor scratches and a few bruises. You come here often?” he asked, raising his gaze from her feet. His eyes did funny things to her insides. How much should she tell him? Should she admit that she hadn’t stepped foot in the place for five years after he’d deserted her? No. The necklace gave him enough ammunition to use against her. “I’ve spent quite a bit of time here in recent months.” He waved a hand toward the bed. “One bed. Two of us. I’m not leaving without you.” Her heart picked up its pace. “Anything between us is dead. I don’t have a problem sharing a mattress.” Liar. “It’s a double. Plenty of room.” He shrugged as he bent toward her. “Your choice.” “What are you—” Brenna grabbed his shoulder as he scooped her off the chair and carried her across the room to dump her on the mattress. “Such a gentleman.” Why did she goad him? Was it because their arguments had always ended in lovemaking? He gave a mock bow. “At your service. I’ll be back. I want to make sure we’re alone.” Before she could ask why he thought someone would be lurking outside, he was gone. Ace the boy had grown into a strong, silent man who moved with the stealth of a warrior. Over the years she’d often wondered if he’d accepted his mother being a full-blooded Cree. Now she had her answer. The fact that his long black hair was pulled back in a braid and tied with a piece of rawhide was only the tip of the iceberg. He carried himself like his ancestors. His face seemed chiseled from stone, all expression masked. He’d not only come to terms with his Cree heritage, he’d embraced it. She pulled back the blankets and slid between the cool sheets. The moment she closed her eyes a vision of blood spurting from Anson’s shoulder flashed. Brenna couldn’t pretend to be sorry that someone had shot him. But who had pulled the trigger and why? And why do it at the wedding? Why not do the dirty deed the day before? Or even the week before? 18

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Now that the wedding hadn’t taken place, what would happen to her family’s farm and lobster business? Paying off the second mortgage her father had taken with the local bank was part of her and Anson’s deal. Now Anson would foreclose on the farm, and her family would lose everything. And what about the rest of their agreement? What would happen to her brother? The mortgage wasn’t important compared to Colin’s future. The door creaked open, and she feigned sleep, watching Ace through her lashes. He never once glanced toward the bed. He helped himself to a mug of soup that he’d put to simmer on the wood stove and sat at the table. The profile of his dark face reminded her of pictures she’d once seen of famous Indian chiefs. His handsome visage remained blank. Not a muscle twitched. The boy who’d once held her in his arms after loving every inch of her body had become a stoic man. Damn the people of this town who helped make him that way. The taunts he’d endured when they were kids had hurt her as much as they had him. Mother a full-blooded Cree, and his father, Hank Spencer, had been a no-good gambler…nothing but a bum. Ace got his name because Hank had been holding four aces in a poker game the night he’d received news of his son’s birth. Hank left town before Ace turned three, leaving Naomi Bear to raise her son alone. An iron curtain slammed shut in Brenna’s mind. She’d promised herself long ago to let go of the past. Promised not to even pay a quick visit there. Emotionally, it could destroy her. Her eyelids popped open when the mattress sagged on the other side. She hadn’t heard him move across the room. “Good night, Bren,” he whispered so softly, she wondered whether she’d imagined it.

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Chapter Three Ace lay on his back, hands behind his head, and willed all conscious thought from his mind. Starting at his toes and working upwards, he relaxed his body. Everything went according to plan until he reached his erection. No way, no how, was his penis going to fall for any meditation shit. He didn’t like the soft feelings he still had for the woman beside him. Close enough to touch, yet she might as well be in China. They’d had a chance at love once, and she’d thrown it away, along with his daughter. Finally, his brain caught up with his heart. No matter how much his body might argue, Ace steeled himself against getting involved with her again. He hadn’t seen a shred of regret in Brenna’s eyes tonight for what she’d done. How could he have been so wrong about her? Youth was no excuse. Truth was he didn’t have an excuse. He’d been blindsided by love. Against his better judgment, Ace let the memories flow. He’d fallen for her one day at school. As usual, he’d been trying to avoid a fight. “Come on, Geronimo.” Billie Crane’s taunts echoed in his head as if they’d been spoken yesterday. “Show us what you got. Know any of those Indian tricks?” Don Mercer had circled Ace and made a grab for his neck from behind. Part of the crowd gathering to watch the fight, Brenna had charged in with no thought for her own safety and kneed Don in the nuts. He’d

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fallen to the ground and cried like a baby. Billie had taken off like the hounds of hell were on his ass. Ace smiled. From that day on, he and Brenna had been best friends. As they’d grown older, he’d decided she belonged in his life forever. Not that Brenna had needed any encouragement. The strong attraction between them wasn’t to be denied. Who could have foreseen such a tragic ending? Yet, she still wore her half of the heart charm. What the hell did that mean? Had she heard that he was back in town? Was this her way to torment him? Today he’d wanted to save her from Anson, and someone beat him to it. Should he tell Brenna that he’d already paid off the loan Anson held over her head? He’d heard on the day he arrived in town that Brenna was marrying the creep because of money her father had borrowed. Pride stood in the way of her admitting the truth. Once he’d admired her sense of pride and self-worth. The words of a wise Cree came to him. “Love in excess brings a man no honor or worthiness”. He refused to consider the idea that love had anything to do with why he’d paid off the loan. The trip down memory lane grew rocky, so he concentrated on the cold, icy sleet that now pelted the window. Wind howled across the empty barrens like a pack of wolves. Winter was making an early appearance. He toyed with confiding to Brenna the real reason he’d come back. Before he did, he wanted to find out everything she knew about the drug trafficking. Ace had reports that her brother was involved, at least on the buying end. Heroin was creating havoc on the Downeast coast. From all reports, many of the drugs were being sold in this small fishing village. And it wasn’t just heroin. Although it was the drug of choice, crystal meth and cocaine ran a close second and third. Common sense told him to concentrate on those who owned fishing boats. He smiled in the darkness. That included more than half of the town.

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Brenna cried out and thrashed on the mattress. Ace reached to comfort her then drew his hand back as if stung. “Brenna! Wake up.” Her arms continued to flail, and she kicked her feet under the covers. The devil rode her hard tonight. Ace bit the bullet and shook her shoulder. “Wake up. You’re dreaming.” He wasn’t prepared for the small fist connecting with his left eye. Brenna rolled to the floor. “Hey, I’m not the enemy here.” At least not that she knew. He rubbed his sore eye. “Must have been some dream.” His fantasies ran amok. A clear picture of her in her satin slip and his flannel shirt, unbuttoned just enough to expose the creamy tops of her breasts, teased and tempted. That damn bustier must be one of those push-up bras. Her harsh breathing filled the room. Ace swung his feet to the floor and walked to the table. After lighting the lantern he went to her. “Easy,” he crooned. “There’s nothing here to hurt you. You’re at the cabin in the barrens. Remember?” A shudder worked its way down her body, followed by violent shaking. Ace put an arm around her shoulders and gently urged her to sit on the mattress. He sank down beside her. “Shh.” He pulled her closer and inhaled the clean scent of her hair. God, how had he forgotten her sweet smell? “It’s okay. Everything will work out.” His touch triggered her sobs. He curled his hand around the back of her neck, cursing the tender feelings sprouting in his heart. He kept her tucked close to his body until a hiccup signaled an end to the tears. He released her and forced himself to back off. “Get some sleep, Brenna. There’s nothing to be done tonight.” She attempted a smile. “My mother used to tell me when I was little girl that things would look better in the morning.” Ace frowned. “I didn’t exactly say that.” She glanced away. “You’re right. But there’s no sense worrying about it now.” She pulled back the blankets and started to crawl into bed.

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His demons stirred. He had to do something before they broke through his weak line of defense. “Brenna?” “Hmmm?” “Was your father selling drugs or smuggling them into Maine?” Unprepared for her attack, he barely managed to grab the foot aimed at his groin. Brenna wobbled on one leg, breathing hard. “You son-of-a-bitch. Is that the real reason you came back?” Ace’s tender feelings hardened like plaque-filled arteries. He yanked. She landed on the floor. “Calm down or you’ll get hurt.” “You bastard.” He smiled. “Can’t deny that.” Brenna came to her knees. Her gaze bore through his armor-clad emotions and stabbed him with guilt. “Why would you ask me that?” “Drugs have become a problem in this area. It’s hit the Passamaquoddy reservation hard. Seems the trail leads here…to Spruce Harbor.” “So you just naturally assumed my father was guilty of giving drugs to the Passamaquoddy People?” He watched her as she got to her feet, wary she might attack. “Selling, Brenna. No one gives drugs away.” She stood in front of him, tall and proud. A slight quiver of her bottom lip gave away her hurt. “My father took a second mortgage on our farm so he could buy a new lobster boat. If he was selling drugs, I doubt he’d have had to do that.” He’d had that same thought. Perhaps she was right. He couldn’t deny he was out to get Daniel MacKenzie, even though the man now lay six feet underground. “You’ve got a point. Get some sleep.” Sleep eluded her. Brenna struggled to keep her breathing even, hoping to fool Ace. Was that the real reason he’d come back? To stop the

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drug smuggling? If so, why come here? Drugs were a problem up and down the entire coast. Fear for Colin gnawed at her insides. Her brother denied it, but she suspected he snorted coke. Anson had told her he had enough evidence to send Colin to prison. She hoped and prayed Colin’s drug abuse hadn’t escalated to heroin or injecting cocaine. Anson had even mentioned crystal meth. Where did Colin get money to buy drugs? He seldom worked. Without their father on his ass twenty-four seven, he’d become lazy. Recently, she’d just about given up expecting Colin to pitch in. One day out of the blue he’d offered to take over the lobstering. She’d been thrilled, thinking he’d come to his senses and was ready to start pulling his weight. After what Anson told her, she’d worried Colin might be up to no good on the water. Ace just confirmed her suspicions might have a solid foundation. More than likely, one day Colin would be looking at life through bars. She’d wrestled with the idea that Anson was the one supplying cocaine to Colin as another way to blackmail her. Anson fit the image of a head honcho in some drug smuggling ring. Ace was right about one thing. Something needed to be done. Too many lives were at stake. Brenna jumped at the splintering sound of breaking wood. The cabin door swung open. She rolled off the bed to crouch on the floor. Heavy breathing came from near the table. Ace had extinguished the kerosene lantern, and the cabin’s interior was black in the moonless night. She ducked as a beam of light crisscrossed the room. “Show your face, Geronimo!” Brenna flinched at the contempt in Don Mercer’s slurred voice. He’d been Billie’s best friend and had never stopped blaming Ace for his friend’s death. More often drunk than sober, he’d spent a good portion of the last twelve years in and out of jail for various small-time crimes. Ace wasn’t on the bed next to her. She’d not heard him leave the cabin. No footsteps, no door opening. She hadn’t even felt the mattress shift. 24

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Don stepped closer to the bed. “Geronimo! I know you’re here. Come out and face me you red-skinned bastard.” Brenna stretched her arm, searching for the shotgun on the floor. She’d seen Ace put it beside the bed. When her fingers curled around the stock, she lifted it, flinching at the scraping noise. The bright beam of light jerked back toward the bed. The circle of light wavered on the center of the mattress. The man was so drunk, he couldn’t even hold a flashlight steady. Brenna rose. The light flashed in her face. Don took a few steps back and bumped into the table. “Brenna! What are you doin’ up here?” The strong smell of alcohol drifted through the air. Six long strides brought her within a few feet of him. She held the shotgun under her arm and lit a match to fire up the lantern. “This is my cabin.” She blew out the match flame and shifted the shotgun, pointing the barrel at Don’s chest. “You just kicked in my freakin’ door.” A wary crab looking for shelter, Don edged backwards toward the door. “Come on, Brenna. No need to point a gun at me.” “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” “Heard Ace Bear had slunk into town.” “So?” “He’s not registered in any motel within fifty miles.” Brenna tapped her foot. “And?” “I remember you and he used to come here to…to meet.” Don’s face turned cunning in the soft glow of the lantern. “You ran from the church. Ran from Anson to shack up with your Indian lover.” Brenna looked around the room, put her finger on the trigger and inched closer. “See any lover here, Don?” Don’s gaze darted around the room. “Where is he?” Good question. Don could be dangerous when he drank, so she resisted the temptation to slap him in the head. “Get out. Fix the door by tomorrow night.”

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Don licked his lips and shifted his weight from foot to foot. Not knowing what he might do next sent a cold chill down her spine. If he turned aggressive, she’d have to shoot him. Wouldn’t that be a great ending to an already horrific day? “He’s gotta be here,” Don muttered. She swept the barrel of the shotgun around the perimeter of the room. “You see him anywhere?” A frown puckered his brow, and he walked to the bed. “Go ahead,” Brenna insisted. “Have a look.” The Ace she remembered would never hide under a bed. She hoped he hadn’t changed. Don hunkered down and flashed his light around before pushing to his feet. After he checked the closet, he walked with an unsteady gait to the door. “Don!” He stopped when she spoke. “Billie died because he fell on his own damn knife. Ace was nowhere near him. Accept it and move on with your life.” Don did a slow, unsteady turn. “That’s not the way the judge saw it.” Brenna reeled in confusion. Not the way the judge saw it? What did that mean? She’d never discussed what happened all those years ago with anyone, not even her family. The pain would have been more than she could bear. “What are you talking about? The judge cleared Ace of all charges.” A shadow moved across the table, and Ace dropped from the rafters, knocking Don to the floor. The flashlight fell from Don’s hand and rolled to Brenna’s feet. “You’re a sorry excuse for a human being,” Ace clipped. “Stand up.” Don struggled to his feet and clutched the back of a chair for balance. Stupid asshole had the audacity to grin. “Still sneakin’ around like an Indian.” “Old habits die hard,” Ace said in a soft voice. “Go home and sober up. And Don? Forget the door. I’ll take care of it.”

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“You ain’t seen the last of me, Geronimo,” Don shot back and slipped out the door into the cold night. They stood in the open doorway, watching until the tail lights of Don’s truck disappeared. “You’d best watch your back,” Brenna said when he shut the door and propped a chair under the doorknob. “Don Mercer is the least of my worries. Thought I’d better make my presence known before you shot the sorry bastard.” Brenna’s laugh came out as a nervous giggle. “How long were you up in the rafters? I didn’t even hear you get out of bed.” “Yeah, well like Don said…Indians can be sneaky.” Brenna kneaded her forehead where one hell of a headache had taken up residence. “Guess I’d have to agree with him.” “Headache?” “Yeah. Migraines.” “Since when?” Since I lost you and our daughter. “They started several years ago. Stress, or so the doctor says. Can’t argue that this day hasn’t been stressful.” Ace put his finger to his lips and cocked his head. “Hear that?” Brenna strained her ears. “Only the wind whistling through the blueberries.” “No. It’s something else. Wait here.” The urgency in his voice brought goose bumps to her arms. “Ace? What’s the matter? Where are you…” He moved the chair away from the door and disappeared into the night.

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Chapter Four Ace braced himself against the wind and opened his mind to the darkness. The sleet had ceased. Except for the howling wind and Don’s car bumping across the barrens, all seemed quiet. Yet, he trusted his premonition. Something was wrong. Then he heard it. A soft mewing. An animal in pain? He turned toward the sound and stilled his breathing. Several moments passed. He heard it again and followed the noise to the cluster of bushes where he’d parked his SUV. He crept around the cabin and approached the vehicle from behind. He blended with the night shadows and waited for the next whimper. When it came, he pushed away from the bumper, crouched and peered around to the driver’s side. Forgetting caution, he scrambled to the child who lay still as death on the frozen ground. A little girl was his guess, dressed in a lightcolored snowsuit. Couldn’t be more than three years old. She had to be hypothermic or damn close to it. He scooped the small body into his arms and jogged to the cabin. Her tiny fingers held tight to a tattered teddy bear. Brenna dropped the piece of split oak she’d been about to put in the woodstove when Ace rushed in the door. She hurried to peer at the bundle he held. “Julienne! My God, what happened?” “Heat some soup,” he barked and carried the toddler to the bed. “You know her?” His nimble fingers made quick work of removing the child’s snowsuit. The child’s hands and feet were cold, but the healthy pink color reassured him they weren’t frozen. He glanced at Brenna, her gaze pinned to the blonde-haired girl while she stirred the soup. 28

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“If she wasn’t wearing warm clothes…” Ace wrapped the waif in a blanket and carried her to a chair near the stove. Big blue eyes stared up at him. He hesitated when Brenna held out her arms. She couldn’t love my daughter, but can love this one? He shrugged and handed her the child. Ace covertly watched Brenna whisper reassurances while she spoonfed warm soup to the little girl nestled on her lap. He ignored the pain digging at his heart. The bliss on Brenna’s face, the joy lighting her eyes to a brilliant sapphire were not the actions he’d expect from a woman who’d given away her own daughter. The conversation between her and Don jabbed at him like a nagging toothache. Brenna had admitted the truth of the night Billie Crane died to Don. Yet, she’d refused to come forward to give the same information to the authorities. Something didn’t add up. The child cuddled closer to Brenna. “Benna?” Ace frowned. “Who is she?” he asked for the second time. Brenna hugged the little girl tighter. “Julienne Shay. I babysit for her and her sister sometimes.” “Babysit? You take care of children, as well as run a lobster business and teach dressage?” Irritation pricked him. Why hadn’t he been told about her three jobs? Someone in the agency had screwed up their research. Brenna’s chin jutted in a way he remembered as if it were yesterday. “How do you know what I do? There’s nothing wrong with making an honest living.” “Implying what?” Ace challenged. “That I don’t?” “How do I know? You haven’t been very open about what your own job is. All I know is that you plan to buy land and build some sort of a complex. Makes me wonder where you’d get money to do something of that magnitude.” Ace held her defiant gaze until she looked away. Brenna would get no information from him. Not yet. “Any idea why Julienne would be wandering around alone at night?” www.samhainpublishing.com

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“No. It doesn’t make sense.” Brenna shifted Julienne on her lap. “Where’s Mommy and Daddy?” “White lady,” Julienne whispered, after swallowing a spoonful of soup. Brenna met Ace’s gaze over Julienne’s head. “That’s about the eighth time she’s said ‘white lady’.” “It’s a street name for heroin.” Abruptly, he rose and turned his back. “I’ll be outside. Got to make some calls.” “Ace? I can take Julienne home with me.” Ten minutes later he snapped his cell shut. The news he’d received from the State Police heated his anger to near boiling. Now he was all the more determined to hunt down the drug dealers. Where the hell did these impoverished people get the money to buy drugs? Brenna rattled off questions the minute he returned. “What did they say? Are the authorities coming to get her? Can I take her home?” Ace avoided her eyes. “They’ll be here soon.” “Stay with Benna. Me stay with Benna,” Julienne cried, her tiny arms wrapped around Brenna’s neck in a death grip. “Hey, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Brenna whispered. She hid her face in Julienne’s blond curls, but not before Ace saw the tears on her cheeks. Ace nodded at Julienne, who sucked her thumb, head resting against Brenna’s breasts. The teddy bear still dangled from her left hand. Her eyelids fought to stay open. “How well do you know her parents?” The look Brenna shot his way reminded Ace of Mrs. Pinkham, his stern fifth grade teacher. “Later.” Ace poured coffee from the percolator warming on the wood stove. Good and black, just the way he liked it. “Thanks for making this.” Brenna shrugged. “Gave me something to do while you were outside. Thank God, you heard Julienne’s cries.” Ace walked to the window and stared into the night. Not that he could see anything, but it gave him an excuse not to watch Brenna fawn over Julienne. The wound Brenna had inflicted—the one he’d thought

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had healed—began to fester. For twelve years, Kayden had gone without a mother because Brenna didn’t want her own daughter. He shut down his thoughts and concentrated on why Julienne had been alone in the barrens. There was a warrant out on her parents for selling cocaine, as well as heroin. More than likely selling drugs in exchange for heroin for their personal use. Once they were apprehended, Julienne would probably end up in a foster home. A fate no child should have to face. God damn crazy world. A whupping noise, along with a bright searchlight flashing outside, signaled the helicopter’s arrival. Brenna’s arms tightened around Julienne. She smiled. “Hey, Tiger, remember when you told me you wanted to ride in a chopper like the ones on television?” The solemn look on Julienne’s face sliced through Ace’s gut. No kid should be that serious. “Do you hear that?” Brenna asked in a stage whisper. There’s one outside right now, and it’s got your name on it.” “Benna come, too,” Julienne whimpered, her small fingers clutching Brenna’s dark hair. “Not today, sweetheart,” Brenna soothed, dropping a kiss on top of her head. “I’ll come see you soon. I promise.” “Mommy and Daddy gone. White lady.” Paramedics hurried into the cabin. Julienne balked when one of them tried to pick her up. Brenna handed her to one of the men. “Time to go, sweetheart,” Brenna encouraged. “These nice men will take you for a ride in the chopper.” Julienne clutched the stuffed bear. “Can teddy come?” “Of course,” one of the paramedics answered. “Teddies love to ride in helicopters.” “O…kay,” Julienne answered. Her gaze stayed glued on Brenna until she disappeared out the door.

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Just as the helicopter lifted off the barrens, two state troopers walked in. “Mr. Bear? You called this in?” “Yes. I found her outside collapsed on the ground by my Cherokee.” “Unfortunately, her sister didn’t fare so well.” Brenna rose. “The baby? What’s wrong with Krista? Where is she?” “We were too late.” Ace stoically observed Brenna as she slumped back in her chair. “Too late?” “Looks like she died of exposure, ma’am.” “I don’t understand. Why were these children alone in the barrens?” The trooper turned to Ace. “We found the Shay’s car pulled off the road about one half a mile from here. From all the paraphernalia on the front seat, it appears they’d been shooting heroin for at least a couple of days. Won’t know for sure until the autopsy, but preliminary findings suggest they died of an overdose. The older child climbed out of a window and wandered off. Lucky she ended up here. The baby just went to sleep.” “What will happen to Julienne?” Brenna whispered. “She’ll be taken to Bangor.” He shrugged. “After she’s checked out at the hospital, she’ll be released to the Department of Human Services. Do you know if there’s family we can contact?” “Not that I’m aware of. At least not in the immediate area.” Both troopers shifted restlessly, their gazes wandering around the small room. “Thanks for getting here so promptly.” Ace walked with them as they started to leave. “Call me immediately with any news.” “I need to go home,” Brenna blurted before he even had the door closed. He pivoted to face her. “Now? I thought you wanted to wait until morning.”

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“I’ve got to go to Julienne. She’ll be frightened. I’m not even sure where Shawna and Roger came from. They just drifted into town one day.” Yeah. Like a lot of drug users and pushers seem to do. Ace curled his hand around Brenna’s bicep. “There’s nothing to be done tonight.” She yanked her arm away. “Either you drive me, or I walk.” Ace took a steadying, deep breath. A higher being had chosen to test his patience tonight. If Brenna wanted to put on the mother act for his benefit, then who was he to deny her? His gaze wandered down her body. She still wore his shirt over the bustier. “You going dressed like that?” She glanced down at herself and gave him a sheepish look. “No wonder the troopers wouldn’t look at me. I’ve got some old clothes in the closet. I’ll be ready in a minute.” “Fine. I’ll wait outside.” Ace beat it out of the small room. He’d seen enough of Brenna’s body tonight to keep him warm for the rest of the winter. Brenna steadied her trembling hands and rummaged through the cedar closet, searching for jeans and a pair of shoes. What would happen to Julienne? Perhaps Shawna and Roger had family out-of-state who’d want to take her. She hoped not. Selfish or not, she wanted to be Julienne’s mother. Would the State consider her qualified to adopt the child? She pushed her feet into an old pair of sneakers and loosely tied the laces. The gauze wrapped around her feet served well as a pair of socks. She turned down the damper on the woodstove. No sense taking a chance on burning down the cabin. If Anson followed through on his threat to foreclose on the farm, she might be living in this one room with her mother and brother. That would for sure put an end to her adoption plans. Next, she raised the pump handle to keep it primed. In a few more weeks, the line from the well would freeze and all water would have to be

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carried in. She cast one last look around the room, her gaze settling on the rumpled bed. She strode over and straightened the covers to erase all signs that she and Ace had so recently laid side-by-side. She hid the shotgun under the mattress. Outside, a horn honked. Ace, impatient? Didn’t quite fit with his new, stoic image. With a sense of foreboding, Brenna blew out the kerosene lantern and left the cabin. She pushed the outside door shut and secured the rope tied around the doorknob to a nail on the side wall. Hopefully, Ace wouldn’t forget to fix the door tomorrow. “Took you long enough,” Ace mumbled as she slid into the passenger side. “Stop whining. I had to make sure the place wouldn’t burn down. You’re welcome to stay here while you’re in town.” Now why had she said that? A grunt was his only response. They bounced across the rutted roads in uncomfortable silence. “What do you do for a living, Ace?” His mouth quirked. “Ended up getting a decent job—no thanks to you.” There it was again. Another snide remark implying she’d wronged him. “Look. I don’t have a freakin’ clue what you think I did to hurt you, but let’s get it out in the open. Your rudeness and better-than-thou attitude is starting to annoy me.” The way his grip tightened on the steering wheel, she had no doubt he wished it were her neck. A muscle twitched in his cheek. “You know damn well what you did.” “You’re wrong. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “You left me in jail to rot for a crime I didn’t commit.” Brenna winced at the harshness of his accusation. “Excuse me?” she squeaked. Surely, she’d misunderstood him.

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While looking at her, Ace hit a pot hole that jarred Brenna’s teeth. “Do you know how many days I sat in that rotten jail waiting for you to come forward and tell the sheriff I was innocent?” She opened her mouth, but the words stuck somewhere between her esophagus and the back of her throat. “What’s the matter?” he ground out. “No quick lies? Or flip remarks?” Fighting the seatbelt, she twisted her body toward him. “You’re the liar! I signed an affidavit in front of a notary about what happened. The lawyer said it would be admissible in court. “The truth is that once you were free, you took off and never looked back. Never once thought about me and our ba…” She clamped her mouth shut and hunched in her seat. She refused to talk about the baby to anyone, especially Ace. Ace slammed on the brakes. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to face her, leaning his back against the door. “What the hell are you talking about?” “Don’t yell at me.” “Then tell me the truth.” “I have, damn it. My father brought the affidavit—” “Your father?” Ace laughed. “Now I understand.” Brenna rubbed her temple. The damn headache had returned. “Understand what?” “The day before my transfer to Thomaston State Prison to await trial, your father showed up with the affidavit. He didn’t tell me who’d given it. Said it didn’t matter. Since there were only four of us the night Billie fell on his knife, I assumed Clay Brody had a guilt attack and decided to tell the truth about the fight.” The breath caught in her throat. The man she’d loved more than her own life had spent time in jail? She took a ragged breath and reached to lightly touch his cheek. “If you believed that, no wonder you’re angry.” Tears slipped down her face. “That’s why you left.” Ace swatted her hand away. “That’s only the tip of the iceberg.”

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Fear rushed through her body. “What do you mean?” “Not tonight, Brenna. I don’t trust myself to talk about it tonight.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “The night Billie died…right after the authorities took you away, I started bleeding. My parents rushed me to the hospital in Machias. The doctor ordered complete bed rest for the rest of my pregnancy. He said if I didn’t stay in bed, I’d lose the baby. That’s why I couldn’t come to see you.” She waited—hoped—for Ace to ask about their baby. The child that had been conceived in love. The one who never got the opportunity to live. How could he just sit there and say nothing? A bowling ball of disappointment sat heavy in her chest. Ace started the SUV and never said another word for the rest of the drive. He finally broke the silence when he turned to drive up the long hill to her farm. “Are you going to see Julienne tomorrow?” Brenna stared straight ahead. It would hurt too much to look at him. “I’ll call first to see what the procedure is.” “Procedure for what? To visit?” He braked in front of the rundown farmhouse. For the first time in a long time, Brenna saw her home through the eyes of a stranger. The paint had peeled off the clapboards. The roof needed to be replaced. Window frames had rotted. “If she has no family who’s willing to take her in, I’d like to adopt her.” In the lights from the dash, Brenna watched Ace’s facial muscles tighten. “Now what’s wrong?” she demanded. Why should wanting to adopt Julienne make him angry? “Not a damn thing. Just didn’t see you as the motherly type.” His coldly spoken words hurt. They also riled her temper. “You don’t know a damn thing about me. I’m beginning to wonder if you ever did.” She opened the door and jumped out. Before she made it to the porch, Ace peeled out, scattering gravel in all directions. Brenna bent to fish the house key from under the doormat and squinted when the porch light flickered on. Great. As the door opened,

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she straightened and faced her mother. Oh yeah. No doubt about it. Doris MacKenzie had that wrath-of-God look on her face. Brenna had fought a losing battle most of her life to get along with her parents. “Not tonight, Mama.” She hoped to put off until tomorrow her mother’s cross-examination of the day’s events. “I’m tired, my feet hurt, and I have one hell of a headache.” Doris stepped aside to allow Brenna entrance. Wearing a frayed, pink chenille bathrobe, her hair in curlers and an unlit Camel hanging from the side of her mouth, she resembled a cartoon caricature. “Who brought you home?” her mother asked in her usual hoarse voice. “None of your business.” “As long as you’re living in my house, young lady, it is my bus—” Brenna cut off the tirade. “Mama, if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have this farm to live in. So no threats. Not tonight.” She refused to feel guilty when her mother’s shoulders slumped. She followed Brenna down the hall. “Anson’s going to be fine. It was just a shoulder wound.” “Good for Anson. Do they know who shot him?” “Nathan Cutler from the Bluffs. He was angry because Anson foreclosed on his trailer.” “Nathan Cutler has five children. Now he’s homeless because of Anson.” Her mother jumped to Anson’s defense. “Anson’s a business man. He was only doing his job. You’ll have to accept that. Nathan defaulted on his loan—” Brenna started toward the stairs. “Good night, Mama.” “Where’s your beautiful wedding dress? We have to reschedule the wedding.”

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Brenna faced her mother. “Read my lips. There will be no wedding. I am not marrying Anson Carter. Think of what happened today as a sign from God.” Her mother’s jaw dropped open. The Camel fell to the floor. “But we’ll lose the farm.” Brenna climbed the stairs. The whine in her mother’s voice fed her headache. “Things will look better in the morning. At least that’s what you always told me.” At the moment she wanted to collapse on her bed and sleep for the next twenty-four hours. She flipped the light switch in her room and gasped at the man reclining on her bed. “We’ve got to talk, Brenna.”

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Chapter Five Brenna’s surprise turned to rage. “How the hell did you get in here?” A hand touched her shoulder. Brenna whirled to face the woman who’d given birth to her. “I brought him.” I picked him up at the emergency room.” Brenna had made her decision and nothing Anson could say would change her mind. “Take him somewhere else. He’s not welcome in this house. I told you. There’ll be no wedding.” Anson rubbed his injured shoulder with his right hand. “I only want a few minutes of your time.” Other than his face being pale, the sling was the only indication he’d been laying face first in a pool of blood a few hours ago. He smiled. “Please, Brenna.” “It’s the least you can do,” her mother said. “After running off and leaving him at the altar.” “Doris, if you’d leave us alone…” Anson’s soft voice carried the tone of authority that Brenna had come to hate. Like a grunt soldier, her mother nodded. Mr. Control Freak Anson was in for a big surprise. She was through being intimidated. “Leave the door open, Mama.” “Sit beside me,” Anson coaxed, patting a spot on the mattress. “You look exhausted.” The pain in Brenna’s head brought a wave of nausea. “Say what you have to say and get out.” The blue eyes narrowed. “You’ve been with Ace Bear. I can almost smell Indian on your clothes.”

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She stiffened at his bigotry. “Where I’ve been and who I’ve been with is none of your concern.” Anson’s gaze wandered up and down her body. “How fortunate for you—to get laid on what was to be our wedding night.” She wanted to slug him. “You’re an arrogant son-of-a-bitch.” The faded blue eyes sparkled with satisfaction. “So unladylike. One of the many things about you that turns me on.” Brenna pointed at the door. “Get out. My mother can take you home.” Anson fumbled with one hand to rearrange the pillows behind him. “I hope Bear was satisfied. He paid enough to get between your legs.” Her heart skipped a beat. Confusion, mixed with a hint of dread, trickled through her. “Spit it out, Anson. I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” “So he didn’t tell you?” He chuckled. “Bear came by the bank day before yesterday. He not only paid for the months your mortgage was in arrears, he paid off the entire balance. He now owns this farm.” The roar of the surf sounded in her ears. She stumbled on her way to the Boston rocker and sank onto the hard seat. How many more revelations would she have to hear tonight? Why hadn’t Ace told her? “If this is some sick joke—” “It’s no joke.” Anson shrugged his good shoulder. “Not that it changes anything between us. The mortgage wasn’t the main reason you agreed to marry me.” Brenna wasn’t sure what pounded more, her heart or her head. “Listen up, Anson. I’m not going to say it again. There’ll be no wedding. Colin is on his own.” Other than the jerk of a muscle under his left eye, Anson kept his anger under control. “So Bear comes sniffing around, and you’re willing to desert your family?” She continued to massage her temple, wishing her headache would vanish along with Anson. “Seeing Ace brought me to my senses.” Anson swung his feet to the floor. “You’ll change your mind.”

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She rocked forward in the chair. “Never. It’s over, Anson. I’m calling the shots from now on.” “We’ll see.” Anson swayed and grabbed the headboard with his good hand. “I’ll be in touch. Count on it.” He took a few steps and swayed again. “Mind helping me down the stairs? I’m a bit woozy.” She shivered. No way was she touching him. “I’ll get my mother.” From the peak of the high knoll, Ace scanned the gray headstones below. He’d always loved this view of the ocean, so he’d made it part of the route for his morning run. The muscles in his back tensed when he spotted the woman kneeling at the base of one of the fanciest stones in the cemetery. Brenna. She’d been on his mind since he’d dropped her off at the farm last night. Head bent, her long black hair spilled down her back from beneath a navy blue watch cap. Once that hair had flowed like pure silk through his fingers. He couldn’t deny he ached to touch it again. Why would she pick such a cold day to visit her father’s grave? Hell, why visit the old man’s grave at all? Especially after what he’d told her last night. Ace relaxed his fisted hands inside his coat pockets. He wasn’t ready to face Brenna today. He needed to purge himself of the anger festering inside. Granted, discovering Daniel had lied to both of them had been a shock. Still, that didn’t vindicate Brenna. She’d handed their child over to strangers. Icy fingers spread down his spine. Could Daniel have lied about that, too? He shook his head. The idea was too preposterous. Brenna was a warrior. If she’d wanted Kayden, she’d have fought tooth and nail to keep her. There were laws to prevent Daniel from taking the child without Brenna’s approval. Ace pivoted, intending to walk away, took two steps and stopped. He turned back and made his way down the slope with the agility of his www.samhainpublishing.com

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ancestors. Not a rock moved or rolled. The years spent with the Cree in Quebec had taught him to incorporate the old ways into a modern world. Ace lost his stride, along with much of his anger, the closer he got to Brenna. Beneath the heavy wool peacoat, her shoulders shook. He cocked his head and listened. Crying at Daniel’s grave? How could anyone, even a daughter, shed tears for that bastard? He cursed beneath his breath. As much as he hated the old man, he accepted the truth. If not for Daniel MacKenzie, Ace wouldn’t have his beautiful daughter. Visions of Kayden laughing, running barefoot with her Cree cousins, hardened the soft feelings for Brenna, trying to worm their way into his heart. Once she had been the love of his life—his sole reason for staying in this bigoted town. Now she was the reason he had to do his job and get out. As much as the love they’d once shared wouldn’t vacate his mind, he didn’t think he could forgive her giving up Kayden without as much as a peek at the newborn. Red skin brat. Daniel’s words still had the power to raise his fury. Once Ace had made an error in judgment regarding Brenna. He’d not make that same mistake again. How could she love someone else’s child and not her own? He pushed away the memory of Brenna holding Julienne last night. He forced one foot in front of the other, stopping several feet away. “Quite a show. I didn’t realize how much you loved your father.” The sobbing ceased. Hell, it looked like she’d quit breathing. He took a few more steps. Her mittened hands loosened their grip on the gray granite. She swiped the sleeve of her coat over her face, before turning to sit on the ground. “Are you stalking me, Ace?” she asked, defiance in her voice, as she leaned against the stone. He laughed. “Hell, no. I happened to see you down here and thought I’d say hello.” “Why? You can’t stand the sight of me. You made that clear last night.”

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Leave it to Brenna to cut to the chase. Never had wasted time with small talk. He almost felt the need to shield himself from the sparks of anger shooting from the icy depths of her eyes. Years of training enabled him to keep his emotions hidden. Yet, her bitterness threw him off balance. Wasn’t he the wronged party here? “I know that you paid off the mortgage on the farm.” He smiled. “So that’s why you’re in such a twit? Who told you?” “Anson. He was waiting in my room last night.” Jealousy ripped through him. “Really? Showed up for his wedding night, did he?” Brenna’s intense glare unnerved him. She’d always had the ability to look beneath the surface and penetrate his soul. “What do you want from me, Ace?” “Unlike Anson, I don’t want to marry you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She dropped her gaze, but not quick enough to hide the tear tracking down her cheek. He had to get away before he either killed her or kissed her. Right now he wanted to do both. “See you around. And don’t worry. There’s nothing I want from you. Let’s just say I repaid a debt I owed your father.” Ace turned and forced himself to walk at a slow, steady pace. Hundreds of hours spent mastering the art of controlling his emotions, and each time he saw Brenna, all his knowledge jumped ship. Once he crested the hill, he broke into a run, waiting for that magic moment when he’d rise above his physical self and gain control over his frantic heartbeat and overactive imagination. Brenna slumped against the gravestone and gulped air like an asthmatic. She watched Ace until he disappeared. Where had he parked? Chandler Hill Road, at least four miles across the barrens, was the closest place in the direction he headed. Surely, he hadn’t walked all that way. Had he taken her up on the offer to stay at the cabin?

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Her mouth tightened. It was none of her concern. She kissed the mitten covering her fingers and brushed it over the gray granite. Rest in peace, little girl. The humiliation of Ace paying off the farm’s mortgage rode her hard. Owing money didn’t sit well, but how would she repay him? Anson had told her she’d be receiving the deed in the mail. Somehow, she’d find a way to pay Ace back every cent. Even if it took the rest of her life. Once Colin was out of danger, she’d take a fourth job if she had to. Anson’s determination that she’d change her mind about marrying him had her worried. Did he plan to turn Colin in for using drugs? She picked up her pace and climbed into the cab of her old pickup. Once behind the wheel, she blasted the heater to chase away the damp cold in her bones. She shivered, but not from the outside air. The arctic chill radiating from Ace had been colder than what blew off the ocean. An aura of revenge surrounded him. Almost everyone in this town had wronged him and his mother, Naomi. Had he returned to make people pay? Last night in the cabin, he’d tended to her wounded feet with a gentleness she remembered. The man who’d taken her home last night and the one she’d just seen bore no resemblance to the man tucked safely away in a corner of her heart. Brenna gunned the engine, so absorbed in her thoughts she forgot about the slick black ice. She steered into the slide and eased her foot off the gas. The old nineteen-seventy truck’s backend swerved a few times then righted itself. She’d best concentrate on her driving. Like a homing pigeon her mind returned to Ace. How dare he act like he was the only one who’d suffered? He’d skipped town, leaving her and the child she’d carried. The man she’d known and loved would never have done that. Although she’d never admit it to him, the new Ace scared her. The boy had disappeared to be replaced by a hardened man whose cold features sent shivers down her back. The pain of Ace’s rejection hurt her

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as much today as it had twelve years ago. Only a fool would ache for a man who’d deserted them. Then I am a fool. Brenna pulled into the parking lot at the town office and glanced at her watch. Damn. She opened the door and jumped from the cab. Myrtle would be locking the office any second. “Wondered when you’d be in. Not like you to lobsta illegally.” Myrtle Peasley wagged a pen at Brenna from behind the counter as she entered. “Desperado’s registration expiahs at midnight.” Brenna smiled at the elderly woman whose hair had been blue-gray for as long as she could remember. She’d been the Spruce Harbor’s clerk for so many years that the townsfolk had concerns about who’d run the town when she passed on. “I know, Myrtle. Sorry I waited until the last day.” “Nevah mind the last day,” the woman grumbled. “I’d say the last minute since I’m about ready to close.” “Sorry.” Brenna counted out money she could scarce afford while Myrtle opened a file drawer and pulled out the yellow registration paper. “Run into Ace yet?” Brenna glanced up just as Myrtle leaned her elbows on the counter, her rheumy eyes lighting up at the chance to hear some juicy gossip. “Just did.” Brenna handed Myrtle a wad of bills and waited to be called a liar. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if half the town knew she and Ace had been at the cabin last night. Myrtle ignored the money in Brenna’s hand. “And?” Myrtle sniffed out news faster than a dog tracking a T-bone steak half a mile away. “We said hello, talked a few minutes and said goodbye.” “Really?” The woman’s white brows arched. “I’m surprised the two of you are speakin’ at all. After all that’s happened.” Brenna’s lack of response didn’t stop Myrtle. “Did he ask about your weddin’? Or should I say the weddin’ that didn’t happen?”

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“No,” Brenna lied and hoped that heat in her cheeks didn’t turn her face red. “Why should he?” “He was at the church and disappeared right after you ran out. Folks hereabouts are flappin’ their tongues.” Wow. Big surprise. Brenna cursed herself for biting. “About what?” Myrtle’s eyes narrowed, a habit she had. Brenna always wondered if it helped her see through a person’s lies. “Sayin’ that mebee Ace Bear came back to town to stop that weddin’. Ay-yuh,” she added, when Brenna showed no reaction. “Sayin’ mebee he’s got plans for you.” Brenna shoved trembling hands into her pockets. No sense stocking Myrtle’s arsenal by letting on how nervous she was. “Ace didn’t do anything to stop that wedding. Someone shot Anson. Remember?” One piece of gossip was as good as another to Myrtle. “Myrtle stamped the registration and laid it on the counter. “Mebee Ace hired someone.” “That’s crazy. Nathan Cutler confessed.” “Mebee Ace hired him. Paid him to keep quiet.” Brenna looked up in surprise, and Myrtle cackled with glee. “Ay-yuh. Strangah things have happened.” “That’s a little far-fetched,” Brenna choked out. “Whatevah his reasons for returnin’ to Spruce Harbor, it’s gonna cause a stir.” Ain’t that the truth? “I’ve got to run. See you later.” Brenna grabbed the registration and sprinted out the door. She slid behind the wheel of the truck and headed home. To get rid of her preoccupation with Ace, she concentrated on Julienne. Tomorrow, she’d call Bangor and talk to Social Services. Find out if any family members had been located. Brenna stood in the kitchen, staring into the refrigerator. Her stomach growled, reminding her that it was time to eat. As usual, the chore of making supper fell on her shoulders. 46

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A loud thump upstairs jumpstarted her heart. A quick glance at her watch told her it couldn’t be Colin. He’d still be on the Desperado, baiting the lobster traps. Her mother should be at Ethel Pinkham’s for the ladies’ weekly bridge game. Although, in Brenna’s opinion, it was more like an excuse to gossip and drink sherry. Another thud. Louder this time. A cold sweat prickled the back of her neck. She waffled. Jump in her truck and leave? Or stay and confront the intruder? Common sense screamed to run like hell. Pride demanded she stay. Who had the nerve to break into her home? Anyone familiar with the McKenzie family knew they had nothing worth stealing. Unless it was a drug addict searching for something to sell for a fix. There’d been several break-ins in the area in the past week. Brenna tiptoed across the floor. Over two hundred years old, the farm had more than a few squeaks in the old oak floor boards. She avoided those areas. Holding her breath, she opened the broom closet and grabbed the loaded single-shot shotgun that her father had always kept there. For the first time, she was glad for her mother’s reluctance to change anything in the house since her husband had died. She leaned in further, her hand searching for the box of twelve gauge shells on the lower shelf. She grabbed a handful and stuffed them in the pocket of her jacket. Had the prowler heard her enter the house? Stupid question. She’d been singing “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain” at the top of her lungs. Brenna knew it was foolish to climb those stairs. This wouldn’t be the first time she’d done something irrational. Halfway to the top landing, she prayed that it wouldn’t be the last time. The noise had come from directly over the kitchen—her room. She carried the shotgun in a ready to shoot position and kept climbing. Adrenalin-laced confidence pumped through her—until she stepped in one of the forbidden zones. The stair squeaked, the noise loud in her ears. She moved faster, reached the top and leaned against the wall, www.samhainpublishing.com

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listening. The door was cracked about six inches. A shadow moved across the opening. She flinched at another loud thud. Anger brought a rush of courage. How dare someone ransack her room? Caution forgotten, Brenna strode down the hall and slammed the butt of the shotgun against the door. It swung open and she stepped inside. A garbled chuckle came from behind. She spun around. Pain exploded in her head. Brilliant white stars danced in front of her eyes and the sound of the ocean’s surf roared in her ears. She slid to floor.

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Chapter Six Ace turned up the radio and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to a catchy Toby Keith tune. He had no reason to drive by Brenna’s farm. Yet, since he’d arrived in town he’d done so more often than he cared to count. At this time of day, the driveway was usually empty. He came to full alert when he saw Brenna’s old blue truck in front of the barn and steered the SUV into the circular dirt drive. Now was as good of a time as any to get some honest answers about Colin. She wouldn’t be any more willing to answer his questions tomorrow or the next day. Since leaving her at the cemetery, he’d pulled himself together. He’d either control his emotions or die trying. Perhaps it was time to come clean about why he’d really returned. In this small town, it was only a matter of time before the news leaked out that he worked for the DEA. Better for Brenna to hear it from him than through the grapevine. A black and white border collie charged toward him as he stepped out of the SUV. “Hey, boy.” Ace bent to scratch the dog’s ears. “Not much of a watchdog.” The dog whined and beat it to the side door of the house. When Ace didn’t immediately follow, he streaked back and ran in circles, before heading back to the door. Unease tickled the back of Ace’s neck. “What is it, boy?” He walked quickly to the house, his apprehension increasing when he found the door ajar. He pushed it farther open and hollered, “Hello?” No one answered.

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The dog pushed by Ace’s legs and bolted inside, toenails clicking as he ran across the black and white squares of the tiled kitchen floor. “Hey,” Ace yelled. “Get back here. I’ve got enough problems with your owner. She’ll skin me alive.” He followed on the dog’s heels, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. He stilled his breathing and listened. The only sound from above was the dog’s pitiful whining. He took the stairs two at a time. Without conscious thought, he jogged to Brenna’s room. God, he’d only been in this house once, and he remembered which room she slept in like it was yesterday. They’d made beautiful memories that night. He’d tried to forget, but couldn’t erase it from his memory bank. Brenna’s special scent drifted toward him. Not perfume, but a clean, sweet smell that belonged only to her. He entered the room and the sight of Brenna on the floor knocked the wind out of him. The collie nosed her hair. Brenna lay on her side, her body partially under the bed. The skin of her face matched the white sheet resting on her cheek. “Jesus.” He breathed the word as more of a prayer than a curse and knelt at her side. He searched for a pulse in her neck and sighed in relief that the beat was strong. “Brenna? Can you hear me? Open your eyes.” What had happened? Had she fallen and hit her head? He did a quick scan. Bureau drawers were upside down on the floor, their contents strewn around the room. The collie barked, a sharp, ear-piercing signal of distress. Brenna’s eyelids fluttered. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Wake up. Talk to me.” She blinked a few times, dazed and confused. “Ace?” Without warning, she jerked away and struggled to her knees, twisting to escape his hands. “What’s wrong? Did you fall? Pass out?” “Someone hit me.” He was slow on the uptake. The terror on her face told him she considered him a suspect. Acid burned the back of his throat. He rose and moved to lean against the nearest wall. “You think I hit you?” Confusion clouded her eyes. 50

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“Are you crazy?” he spit out. “I drove by. I saw your truck, so I decided to stop. I just got here.” He motioned to the dog. “He was barking and running in circles. He burst into the house and ran up here. I followed him.” “It’s a girl,” she said dully. “What?” “The dog. Her name’s Sheba.” Ace took three steps and offered his hand to help her up. “Whatever. I’m not the enemy, Brenna. Life would go a lot smoother if you believed that.” She ignored his outstretched hand and reached up to grab a handful of quilt. A pang of pity poked Ace as he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. He forced himself to shake it off. “What happened here? Who ransacked the room?” Before Brenna could respond, Sheba ran to the window and let out a series of high-pitched yips. Ace walked to the slightly opened window. An emergency fire escape ladder was hooked over the sill and hung down the outside wall of the house. “Do you leave the ladder hanging here all the time?” “No. We keep them under the bed in case of fire. Each bedroom has one.” “Good idea.” Well, normally, it would be. Now it had helped a prowler escape. Ace checked the room with more attention to detail than before. The bureau drawers had been haphazardly emptied, leaving clothes spread around the floor. What would be worth stealing in someone’s lingerie drawer? His gut screamed it was a decoy. Perhaps someone trying to scare Brenna. “Any idea what someone would be looking for?” “There’s nothing here worth stealing.” Ace went into the hall and made his way to the bathroom to soak a washcloth in cold water, wringing out the excess water. Brenna sat on the end of the bed when he returned. “Did you see a car leaving when you pulled in the driveway?”

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“Nope. Didn’t meet one on the road either. How long do you think you were unconscious?” Brenna looked at her watch. “Not long. Maybe whoever broke in is on foot.” “Or horseback.” The old mattress sagged as he sat beside her and applied the cold cloth to the back of her head. “Or a four-wheeler. Either could be easily hidden in the woods.” Brenna sighed. “That’s true.” “We need to talk, Brenna.” Ace ignored the wariness that darkened her blue eyes. “Because of what’s just happened, I think it’d better be now, rather than later.” She shoved his hand away and held the washcloth herself. “I’ve told you, I don’t know anything about anyone selling drugs, or using drugs, either. And what’s with you?” Her chin jutted out. “You sound like a cop.” “Where’s Colin?” Ace asked to postpone the inevitable of telling her he was a government agent. “Out on the Desperado.” “Is he dealing drugs? Is that why you agreed to marry Anson? I don’t believe you’d marry a man you barely know and seem to dislike because of a threat of foreclosure on the farm. The woman I once knew would live in a tent before being bullied like that.” She squeezed her eyes shut and rested her head on the brass knob on the footboard. She opened her eyes, and Ace drew a sharp breath. He got lost somewhere between the vulnerability and the plea for understanding in her eyes. He’d thought the emotion one-sided until her lips parted, and she raised a shaky hand toward his face. As if receiving orders from somewhere other than his brain, his gaze dropped to her mouth. Seconds ticked by. “Ace,” she breathed his name. Just that and nothing more. A multitude of emotions spun a tangled web in the air. Lust, love, passion and hope.

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He lifted an unsteady hand to caress her cheek when a door slammed downstairs, shattering the spell. Brenna’s hand fell to her side. “It’s Colin. “Brenna? You here? Whose SUV’s outside?” Neither moved as footsteps sounded on the stairs. Colin burst into the room and tripped over Sheba. “Damn it, Brenna, I—” Ace studied the male version of Brenna. Colin’s face turned ruddy, his blue eyes narrowed in anger as he took in Ace sitting next to his sister on the bed. “What the fu—” “Enough, Colin,” Brenna snapped. Colin jabbed a finger at Ace. “What’s he doing here?” “Helping me. Someone broke in and clubbed me over the head.” Concern replaced anger on Colin’s face, and he rushed to his sister’s side. “Are you okay? Who was it?” “I don’t have a clue. And other than having the mother of a headache, I’m fine.” “Perhaps they had a key,” Ace spoke for the first time. “The door wasn’t damaged. So it hadn’t been forced open.” He looked Colin square in the eye. “Perhaps you have some ideas?” Brenna turned to Ace, eyes wide with surprise. “What?” “That’s crazy.” Colin bristled. “No one has a key to our house.” The kid shifted from foot to foot like he was standing on hot bricks. Why so nervous? And defensive? “How’d they get in if it was locked?” Ace prodded. “Could’ve picked the lock,” Colin offered. “Possible,” Ace conceded, not for a moment believing it. He rose from the bed and moved to lean against the wall near the door. “Brenna, was the door locked when you got home?

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She nodded. “We leave a key under the doormat. Probably half the town knows that.” Colin glanced around the room. “Is anything missing?” “I haven’t had time to look. I can’t think of anything worth stealing. I have no jewelry or money up here.” “Looks to me like the thief was searching for something,” Ace said. Or making it look like a robbery attempt. “Colin, check the other bedrooms.” Colin’s thin frame stiffened. Ace expected him to refuse. The kid had been only twelve when the shit hit the fan. Any animosity Colin felt toward him now more than likely came from listening to town gossip. Colin’s gaze slid to Brenna. When she nodded, he tightened his lips and left the room. “When are you and your brother going to come clean with me? It’s obvious you’re both hiding something.” “I could ask you the same question. Who do you work for? You’re not investigating drug rings on your own. Maybe when you tell me the truth, I’ll return the favor.” Colin walked back into the room. “Doesn’t look like anything’s been touched.” Ace pushed away from the wall. “It’s possible they want something Brenna has or think she has. You want to call the cops or should I?” Ace tossed the question at Brenna. She shrugged. “I’ll take care of it.” “Why call the cops?” Colin choked out the words. “Nothing’s missing.” Ace’s suspicions grew. He itched to put Colin through the third degree. Brenna’s angry glare warned him off. He’d stopped to tell her the truth. Now obviously wasn’t the time for true confessions. He checked his watch. “I’m already late for an appointment.” Not really a lie. He’d planned to talk to as many people in town as he possibly could.

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He took two steps and paused in front of Colin. “Talk your sister into seeing a doctor. She might have a concussion.” He stepped over the dog, then jogged down the stairs and out of the house. Brenna slid off the bed and bent to pick up one of the bureau drawers. “How about helping me clean up this mess?” “So the word around town is true?” She winced at the intense pain in her head. “I don’t know. What’s the latest gossip?” “That you and Ace still have the hots for each other. After all these years.” Brenna’s face flamed. “Who’s spreading that crap? No,” she said, holding up her hand. “Don’t tell me. It’s Don Mercer, isn’t it? He’s full of it. Anybody who’d believe him is as crazy as he is.” She shoved a drawer back in the bureau. “Is Ace staying at Dad’s cabin?” “Maybe.” She picked up a second drawer, dropped it on the bed. “I told him he could. I’m not sure he took me up on my offer.” Brenna stopped folding a pair of panties and glared at her brother. Stay away from Ace, Colin, or so help me God…” “Don’t you care what people say?” “No. Don’t you? Care about what the town says about you?” she added at his blank look. The blush on her brother’s face told its own story. “Admit it, Colin. I know you do cocaine. Anson threatened to turn you in. That, coupled with the threat to foreclose on the farm, is why I decided to marry him.” Colin’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “What’ll happen now? Are you two still gonna get married?” “No. No, we’re not,” she added with more conviction. Saying the words aloud gave her a strong feeling of relief, as well as calmed her nerves. Come what may, she wouldn’t be marrying Anson Carter. She’d already made the decision. Experiencing the electrical currents that flew

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in the air when Ace was around convinced her she’d made the right decision. “I’m in trouble, Brenna,” Colin said, his eyes pleading for her help. “If Anson goes to the cops, I’ll go to prison.” Exhausted, Brenna gave up picking up clothes and sank to the mattress. She studied her brother’s face, searching for the fun-loving, innocent boy he’d once been. Blue eyes, once clear and bright, now were cloudy and dull. And at the moment, nervous. She was no expert on drugs, but she’d guess Colin needed a fix. “Exactly how much does Anson have on you?” “Like you said. He caught me snorting lines of coke.” “Just using? You been dealing, as well?” Brenna doubted Colin could fake the horror that spread over his face. “Of course not. I’d never do that. You’ve got to believe me, Brenna.” “I’ll tell you what I believe. You need help professional help. At a rehabilitation hospital.” “I’m clean, Brenna. Have been for a week.” “And it’s killing you. You can’t fight your addiction alone. There are people trained to help.” He gripped the bedspread until his knuckles turned white. “I can’t be locked up in a hospital. I’d go insane.” “Maybe Ace can help. I think we should talk to him.” “Bull. He’d turn me in just for the fun of it. He’d get a big kick out of putting a McKenzie in jail.” Brenna made a quick decision. “It’s time you know the truth about Ace.” “You mean the truth as he sees it?” She frowned at the bitterness in her brother’s voice. “No,” she said quietly. “The actual truth. Listen to me. Dad lied. To me and to Ace.” Brenna held up her hand when he tried to interrupt. “Let me finish. Do you remember when I was admitted to the hospital right after the fight between Billie and Ace?” 56

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At his nod, she continued. “I signed an affidavit clearing Ace of any wrongdoing. I signed it in front of a witness and a notary. They said they’d bring it to the judge.” She laughed harshly. “Now I realize how naïve I was. Dad must have paid off the notary, the lawyer and the witness.” “Go on,” he said. Brenna sensed interest in his voice. “Ace spent six months in jail before Dad brought my affidavit to the court.” “So?” Brenna reached out and put her hand on Colin’s arm. “Don’t you see? Dad let me think Ace was released from jail right after I signed the affidavit. Let me believe he took off as soon as he was free. The truth is Ace thought I’d deceived him.” Colin slid off the bed. “It’s history. Why bring it up now?” Brenna closed her eyes and counted to ten. “Because Dad may have ruined the best thing in my life.” “Come on, Brenna. You know damn well there’s no future for you and Bear. Not then, not now. He’s an Indian, for Christ’s sake.” The words hit her like a punch to the stomach. Why had she thought she could penetrate the years of bigotry her mother and father had grilled into her brother for twenty-four years? “Forget Ace. Let’s concentrate on you. Where do you get the cocaine?” “Don’t go there, Brenna. The less you know, the better. Ace nosing around will make some people nervous.” “I’m telling Ace all I know. You can either be on our side—or not. Your choice.” “You’re making a big mistake. If someone broke in here, it means…” “You told me you were off the drugs.” “I am, but I still owe plenty. If I could pay them off—” “I’ve got no money, Colin. And even if I did, I’m not sure I’d bail you out. Did you hear Roger and Shawna Shay are dead?” The color bleached from his face. “Dead?” www.samhainpublishing.com

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“Of a heroin overdose.” “I’ve never touched heroin.” Sweat beading on his forehead gave her reason to doubt his denial. “Think it over. You’re either with me, or you’re not. I’m going to Ace tomorrow morning to tell him everything I know.” Before Colin could respond, a shrill voice freewheeled up the staircase. “Brenna? Colin? Get down here now.” “Great,” Brenna muttered. Just what she needed to end a second horrendous day. Another round with her mother. “Let’s go face the music. Ace was probably the topic of conversation at her bridge club.” Brenna trailed Colin down the stairs. He stopped abruptly in the entry and she bumped into him. Two state troopers stood by the door. Her mother leaned against the wall, wringing her hands. “These men have a—” The younger of the two stepped forward. “We have a search warrant.” Brenna gasped. “For what?” “We’ve reasonable cause to suspect that Colin MacKenzie has been selling heroin.” Brenna’s head started to spin. She grabbed the banister for balance. “That’s crazy—” Colin stepped forward. “I have nothing to hide. Search all you want. My room’s the second on the left.” “Ma’am, if you’ll move out of the way…” “Someone broke into the house earlier… I was just going to call the sheriff.” They ignored Brenna, and she was forced to step aside when one of the troopers started up the stairs. The ten minutes he was gone dragged on like ten hours. No one spoke until the officer trucked back down, holding a ziplock baggie in his rubber-gloved hands. It contained a white powdery substance. “Colin McKenzie, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you…” The trooper droned on, reading Colin his Miranda rights. After a quick body search, they dragged his 58

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hands behind his back and handcuffed him before hustling him out the door. “Brenna,” Colin pleaded over his shoulder. “You’ve got to help me. It’s not true. I’ve been set up. Please believe me.” She stood in the open doorway, oblivious to the cold, and watched the cruiser drive away with her brother in the backseat. Brenna’s heart wept tears while her mother sat at the kitchen table and sniffled into a tissue. “What will we do?” How the hell do I know? “Were you aware had Colin had a drug habit?” Her mother’s gaze skittered away. Brenna took a deep breath. “Guess that answers my question.” “Call Anson. He’ll post bail and get Colin a good lawyer.” Brenna’s jaw clenched. Anson could very well be the one who set Colin up for a fall. He had access to the house last night. And so had Ace not more than an hour ago, a little voice nagged. “No.” “What do you mean ‘no’?” Her mother’s screech grated on her frayed nerves. “I’m not involving Anson in any more of our melodramas. I have no intention of asking for or accepting his help. The price is too high.” “This isn’t the time to think of your wants.” Brenna tried and failed to gain control of her anger. She grabbed her mother by the shoulders and shook. “Listen to me. I’m not bailing Colin out of jail for drug crimes. If he broke the law, he’ll do the time. Do you understand?” “You’d let your own brother go to jail when you could prevent it?” “Stop it how, Mama? By selling myself?” “You could do worse than marrying Anson.” Brenna shook her head. “You just don’t get it.” “So it’s true…what everyone’s saying.” Brenna stiffened her shoulders. Here we go again. “More than likely.” www.samhainpublishing.com

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“You’ve hooked up with that no good Ace Bear. Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time?” Brenna’s head throbbed and nausea hit the back of her throat. “Don’t even say his name to me. You and Daddy ruined my life once. You’ll not do it again.” Her mother grabbed for Brenna’s arm. “What are you talking about?” She shook off the hand, grabbed her coat off the back of the kitchen chair. She patted the pocket to make sure the keys were there and hurried from the house, deaf to her mother’s protests.

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Chapter Seven Brenna burst into the cabin. Ace glanced up from sharpening his knife. He’d been expecting her. Outside a short while ago splitting wood, he’d heard her old truck pound the road a mile away. From the speed she traveled, he knew her mood would be volatile and wondered what had set her off. He figured he was about to find out. Her face was flushed, her eyes wild with fear or anger, he couldn’t decide which. “Did you turn him in?” she demanded, her chest rising and falling. Ace tested the sharpness of the blade with his finger. “Turn who in where?” He slipped the knife into its leather sheath. “Don’t, Ace. Don’t play the dumb fool.” Her voice hitched as if she held back tears. He never could resist Brenna’s tears. “Sit down. Tell me what’s got you so riled up.” She released a loud sigh. Her hands shook, so she clasped them together on the table. “State cops just arrested Colin.” I’m not surprised. “On what charge?” “Two troopers came to the farm with a search warrant. Said someone had given them a tip. How convenient that they discovered a huge amount of heroin in Colin’s room.” He frowned. “And you think I set him up?” Her gaze wavered before she broke eye contact. “No.” Her slight hesitation brought a stab of pain. “You believe someone planted the heroin?” “Yes.”

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“Did you call the police to report the break-in?” A flush spread across her cheekbones. “I didn’t have a chance. Colin and I talked for a while. They came soon after you left. I tried to tell them then, but they wouldn’t listen.” Damn. He should have coordinated with the state police. Colin would be more use on the outside than in jail. “Where’d they take him?” “I…I’m not sure. I didn’t think to ask. Machias? Maybe Bangor.” “Any idea why someone would want Colin in jail?” Brenna twisted the hem of her jacket. Was she about to tell him the truth? He hoped so. “He’s been using cocaine. I’m not…I don’t know how long. He swears he’s not dealing. He says he’s been clean for a week.” “Go on,” Ace encouraged. She kept her eyes downcast. “Anson knew about it. He’d threatened to have Colin arrested. That’s the reason I was marrying him.” Had she told him everything? He saw no lies in her eyes when she raised her head and met his gaze. “Right before the police came, I’d told Colin we should talk to you.” Ace gave a start of surprise. Did she know he worked for DEA? “Me? Why me?” Her blue eyes sparkled with tears. “I’m clinging to the memory of the man I once knew. I want to trust you, Ace.” Laughter rose from his throat, the sound harsh to his own ears. “That’s unwise. That man no longer exists.” “Traits like honesty don’t disappear.” The words hit him harder than a sucker punch to the stomach. He rose from the table and went to the stove to pour two cups of coffee. When he placed a mug in front of her, she pushed it away. “I want something stronger.” At his questioning look, she pushed away from the table and moved to the closet by the bed. She got on her hands and knees, and Ace admired her heart-shaped bottom in the faded, tight blue jeans. She 62

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dragged out a bottle of Jack Daniels and brought it to the table. She grabbed a glass in the cupboard and poured a good three fingers. “I’m impressed,” he said, after she tossed it down in one swallow. “Not a cough or even watery eyes. A new habit of yours?” He covered her hand with his when her fingers closed over the neck of the bottle. “Let’s talk first.” She nodded. “My mother picked up Anson at the hospital and brought him straight to the farm. He wasn’t too steady on his feet. My mother’s a bitch, but I don’t think she’d help set up her own son.” Bitterness engulfed Ace as he remembered how Brenna’s mother had deceived her daughter twelve years ago. “Since I didn’t plant it and Anson didn’t have the opportunity, that leaves whoever broke in this afternoon.” Unless Colin’s lying through his teeth. Ace came up short when he attempted to share Brenna’s faith in her brother. “Will you help Colin? Will you tell the police that someone did break in? I’ll be suspect if I tell them now since I didn’t report it right away.” Saying no to Brenna always had been a problem. “I’ll talk to Colin. Listen to what he has to say.” Hope brightened her eyes. “Let’s go.” “Not tonight. One night in jail won’t kill him.” “But—” “No, Brenna. I’m not going anywhere tonight. And neither are you. I was outside earlier and heard you coming. I’d guess you were doing fifty over those dirt roads. I’m surprised the truck’s doors are still attached. You’re in no condition to go anywhere.” Her gaze slid to the bed. The memory of lying next to her last night brought a smile to his face. “We shared it for a while last night. Tonight will be no different.” “You never used to read my mind,” she whispered. “I’m not sure I like it.”

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He chuckled. “I don’t have to read your mind. Your expression tells me all I need to know.” “Do you believe me? About Colin being innocent?” Ace chose his words with care. “There’s a possibility he’s been set up. I don’t how innocent he is.” “Meaning?” “I’m not convinced he hasn’t been on the selling end of the drug problem in Spruce Harbor.” Her jaw tensed. “Can I trust you’ll keep an open mind?” Another harsh laugh escaped him. “I’m one of the few in this town who doesn’t a problem with that.” Ace took another glass from the cupboard and poured them each a shot of whiskey. He raised his glass. “To the future.” Brenna touched her glass to his and downed the contents. “Can we move beyond everything that’s happened and be friends?” “It’s time to let go of the past…and embrace the present,” he replied and wished he could practice what he preached. The whiskey burned his throat, and he willed it to take away the hollow yearning deep in his heart. He wished that life had been kinder to both of them. Disturbed at the direction his thoughts veered, Ace rose and cleared the glasses and mugs from the table. “I’ll go get some more wood for the stove.” Heat prickled Brenna’s body. Restless, she got up and walked to the sink. Steam rose from the tea kettle on the wood stove, so she washed the few dishes. Ace hadn’t said he would help Colin, but he hadn’t refused either. A man unwilling to commit until he had answers to his questions. She respected that. Dishes done, she moved across the rough planked floor and sat on the mattress. She shed her clothes, leaving on her bra and panties. Her head spun from the combination of whiskey and the knock on the head. Smothering a yawn, she crawled beneath the covers. For the first time in

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months, she felt safe and hopeful that the future might not be as bleak as it had seemed in recent days. She smiled at the crack of the ax splitting wood outside. The wood pile outside would heat the cabin for the entire winter. Ace was nervous. Knowing that made her feel better. Brenna floated on the brink of sleep when Ace returned. Like the night before, she watched him move around the small interior. He stacked wood next to the stove before taking off his boots. She ogled his lean, hard body. She’d grown accustomed to his long hair, pulled back and tied with a thin piece of rawhide. When he moved to blow out the kerosene lantern, she sat upright, the blanket falling to her waist. He spun around, his eyes widening. A hardened expression spread over his features, adding years to his age. For a brief moment, her bravery faltered. No. After all that had happened, honesty between them was vital. Plain and simple, she wanted Ace. As much, if not more, than when they’d been kids. She held his gaze and refused to back down at the cold amusement in his eyes. The loud, slow tick of the windup alarm clock filled the room. He may not like it, but passion flared in his eyes, convincing her that he, too, remembered the hot sex they’d once shared. He came toward her in the dim light. “People will talk,” he whispered. The sexy huskiness in his voice sent a thrill straight to her belly. “You think I give a damn?” “You sure?” “I’m tired of the way we’ve been circling each other. We’re adults now. We know what we want.” His mouth curved into a smile. “Hot sex?” She shook off the feeling that the smile held a hint of sadness. “You remember. Back then it was more than that.” He knelt on the floor beside the bed and stroked her cheek with fingers still cold from being outdoors. “And now?” “I don’t know,” she lied.

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Ace captured her hand and brought it to his lips. Her breath hitched at the wet warmth of his tongue on her palm. He released her wrist and kneaded her shoulders. “You’re beautiful. Back then you were a girl. Now you’re a woman.” “And you’re now a man, no longer a boy.” His mouth twisted in a half smile before he buried his face in her hair. He trembled against her. The hands clutching her body gave away his need. Did they have another chance at love? Ace trailed kisses down her neck to the necklace that hung in her cleavage before returning to her mouth. His kiss held the same hint of sadness as she’d seen in his smile. The kind of kiss that had once seen a hot fire and now hoped to fan the burning embers. She drank in his kisses, an occasional moan of pleasure escaping. Just when she thought she’d explode from want, his fingers burrowed beneath the blankets and closed around her hips. She kicked off the covers, craving cool air on her overheated skin. Ace bent and trailed his tongue across her navel. Need overwhelmed her. She swallowed the sob that rose in her throat. “Ace, please.” Her fingers clutched wildly at his hair. Without warning, he tugged her to the floor. She scrambled to her knees so they knelt, facing each other. Her stomach somersaulted at the intense hunger in his eyes. Their gazes locked. Her heart beat in time with his erection throbbing against her. Ace feared detonation any second. His erection pounded, demanding release. He forced himself to loosen his tight grip on Brenna’s shoulders. Surely, she’d have bruises. Such soft skin, never meant to be treated harshly. His body screamed to hurry and plunge deep inside this woman clinging to him as if she’d die if he didn’t. His brain sang a different chorus. “Been there, done that, jerk. Look where it got you the last time.” “This time’s different.” 66

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“Right. That’s what they all say.” “Ace?” Brenna’s soft voice interrupted the mind battle, and he realized he’d stiffened in her arms. “No talk,” he muttered and claimed her mouth, toppling her to the floor. The floor better suited his mood. His lips feathered her belly, tasting the slightly salty skin. In the yellow glow of the kerosene lantern, he focused on the myriad of thin, spidery scars above her bikini panties. From carrying their child. Joy and pride rushed to his head and quickly vanished, as cold anger pumped through his bloodstream. She’d tossed their daughter to the wolves. Given the infant away without even a glance. Ace rolled away. “What’s wrong?” Brenna’s hoarse voice revealed her hot arousal. “Ace?” The small hand touching his shoulder burned. He shook it off and got to his feet. “I can’t do this. There’s too much bad history between us.” Brenna got to her knees. “That’s not true. We can work around the past. As long as we’re together, anything is possible. Don’t make me responsible for what my father did.” Was she crazy? The Brenna he’d known would never act like giving away their child was of no consequence. “Ace?” He focused on her face. Confusion dimmed the warmth in her eyes. God she was beautiful. He still wanted her. Wanted to grab the hand she stretched toward him and pick up where they left off. His words came out more brutal than he’d intended. “No. It’s impossible.” “I don’t understand. Why are you so hostile? It’s almost as if you hate me.” “Hostile? Believe me, you don’t know the meaning of the word.” She maneuvered away from him, leaned against the bed and hugged her knees, head slightly bent. “Get out. I want to be alone.”

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His fingers itched to stroke the graceful shape of her bowed neck and tangle themselves in the black silk of her hair. For long moments he simply stared, then without a word, he left her. Outside, Ace pressed his forehead against a tree trunk and gulped the cold night air. The frigid temperatures soon brought him to his senses. He’d been unfair, both to himself and to Brenna. She must know why he was so bitter. He had a hard time understanding why she didn’t know already, but if she needed to hear the words, he’d give them to her. Pushing away from the tree, he walked back inside. He entered the cabin and moved to where she still sat on the floor. “How could you give away my child?” Brenna’s head snapped up, her mouth dropping open. She gawked at him in complete confusion. “What did you say?” He strode to her, reached down and dragged her upright. “You heard me.” She twisted out of his grasp and swung her fist. Damn. This was the second time she’d hit him. Ace rubbed his cheek. “Is this some type of a cruel joke?” Her eyes blazed with anger. “You think I gave our child away?” “I know you did.” Ace barely heard her words, she spoke so low. “We had a daughter, Ace. A stillborn daughter. I would never have given my baby, our baby, away to strangers. How could you think such a thing?” His heart sank. “Don’t lie to me, Brenna. I know the truth.” “Truth? You want the truth?” Her voice rose with every word. “The truth lies in the cemetery where you saw me this morning. The baby died, Ace. What can I do to convince you? All these years, I’ve grieved alone. I envy those women in foreign countries who wail and weep in public when their loved ones die. I even understand why your ancestors cut off their hair to grieve their dead. I had no opportunity to do any of those things. Our daughter didn’t even have a funeral. When I recovered enough to get out of bed, she’d already been buried.”

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Tears streamed down her cheeks. Stunned, he stood immobile while her shoulders shook. No one could put on such an act. Ace accepted the truth. Brenna believed their child had died. What had that bastard Daniel McKenzie done? He moved closer to draw her into his arms. She slapped at his hands. “Don’t touch me.” “Brenna, listen to me. I didn’t know.” She fisted her hands but kept them at her side. “You didn’t know because you didn’t bother sticking around to find out.” “That’s not true. I—” “You what?” Words froze on his tongue. He couldn’t tell her that Kayden was alive. Not until he investigated further. What if their baby really had died and Daniel had given him someone else’s child? He’d put nothing past that son-of-a-bitch. Before he told Brenna, he had to make sure Kayden was their biological daughter. If Daniel McKenzie wasn’t dead, Ace would end the miserable man’s life right now, tonight. Brenna continued to let him have it with both barrels. “Let’s go to the cemetery. You can see for yourself and know I’m not lying.” Ace worried about her state of mind. Her face was wet, her nose was running. Her eyes puffy from all the tears she’d shed. “Brenna, stop it. I’m sorry.” He scooped her into his arms and walked to the bed. She fought him every step of the way. To stop her thrashing, he laid on top of her. “It’s all right. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” He murmured the same words over and over until her body gave up its fight and went limp. Even then he was reluctant to trust she’d not lash out at him. He rolled away, and she huddled in the bed. “Don’t, Brenna,” Ace choked out. His own tears threatened to spill. “Stop it. You’ll make yourself sick.” He wiped the wet streaks from her cheeks and pulled her close. Squeezed her tight.

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She tilted her head back and looked into his eyes. “How could…how could you ever think I’d give our child away? I loved you. You were my life. Didn’t you know that?” Guilt twisted his guts. His heart wept with her. Tell her, you fool. Don’t let her go on believing her child is dead. He couldn’t vocalize his thoughts. “I’m sorry. Forgive me.” She burrowed into him, her lips skimming his neck. “I love you, Ace. I’ve never stopped loving you. I’ll always love you.” Even after you learn that I’ve had our daughter all this time and never told you? A sudden need to possess her took him by storm. His mouth assaulted hers. Their open-mouth kisses didn’t satisfy his hunger. Desire exploded and blasted away every shred of common sense.

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Chapter Eight “Touch me, Brenna,” Ace rasped, and groaned when her hands closed over his erection. He cupped her bottom and tugged her closer. She trailed her mouth down his chest while her hands worked to unfasten his shirt. “Skin against skin. I need to feel you…touch you.” Buttons flew and hit the floor. She yanked and he shrugged, until the shirt slipped away. The warm, moist heat of their bodies drove him crazy. Her breasts rubbed against his chest. “How did I manage to live all these years without you?” she whispered. “I couldn’t bear to lose you again.” “You never lost me. Chi-sach-heetan.” He murmured the Cree phrase for ‘I love you’. She fingered her necklace. He couldn’t have looked away from her eyes. “You’re my twin soul,” she breathed. “We made our vows when we put on these necklaces.” Her blue-eyed gaze searched his soul, her unasked question clear. She wanted to know what had happened to his necklace—the other half of the heart. He rested his forehead on hers while his thumbs caressed her upper arms. “It’s in a safe place.” Truth was he’d given it to Kayden after telling her the story behind the necklaces. Jesus. What kind of man am I? I need to tell her about Kayden before I lose her. Fear wracked his body. He couldn’t remember being this afraid. He’d sooner face death than see the look of hurt, or worse, hatred, in this woman’s eyes when she discovered the truth. But could he live with

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himself if he didn’t tell her? “Brenna, stop for a minute. There’s something you need to know.” Her hand covered his lips, index finger slipping inside his mouth and across his tongue. “No confessions. Not tonight. Twelve years is a long time. Let all we’ve done during that time stay where it belongs—buried in the past.” “You don’t understand—” She took his mouth in a kiss so hungry, his body jerked. The heat between them had always sizzled. Tonight it damn near scorched him. Truth and lies fled his mind. This moment was all that mattered. Tomorrow would take care of itself. Brenna beat him to her panties, one foot pushing them to her ankles. She kicked them to the floor. Off came her bra. He pushed her hands away from his jeans. They joined Brenna’s panties in three seconds flat. “Are you protected?” he rasped. “On the pill?” “No. I’d love to have your child.” Her confession sent his guilt into overdrive. Then her hands caressed his erection, blowing every thought from his head. Ace’s whispered words of love, half in English, half in Cree, thrilled Brenna as much as his hands and mouth. She reveled in having the love of her life back in her arms. Life couldn’t be any sweeter. She and her love had a second chance. This time nothing would keep them apart. She lay on her back, legs spread, knees bent. Ace kneeled between her thighs, his hardness pushing against her moist center. She shuddered as his finger trailed between her breasts. He hooked it around the chain of her necklace. “You’ve worn this all these years?” The anguish in his eyes mirrored her own. She bit her tongue so she wouldn’t ask what he’d done with his. Had he thrown it away? “Yes.” “I love you, Brenna. Whatever happens tomorrow or the next day, promise you’ll remember that I love you.”

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A frisson of fear pierced her joy and found the center of her heart. Something was wrong. What was Ace keeping from her? What could be so awful that he feared losing her love? The old Brenna would have cajoled and even threatened until he spilled his guts. The woman she’d become didn’t want to know his terrible secret. Still, she didn’t make promises lightly and couldn’t give him the assurance he needed. “Ace,” she gasped, forgetting promises and secrets. The sight of his dark hair between her legs, the feel of his mouth, his tongue pushing inside her core drove all doubts to some faraway place. “God, Ace…” She squirmed, her hips wriggling for closer contact. A climax built. Just as she was ready to spiral to a gut-wrenching peak, his tongue left her center and trailed up over her belly. Dipped into her navel. He lapped her nipple and drew the turgid peak into his mouth. “Please, Ace,” she begged, tugging his hair to bring his mouth to hers. “Enough teasing. It’s been too long.” Callused hands steadied her hips as inch by inch he pushed into her wetness. In a fever, Brenna wrenched his hands away and raised her hips to take more of his length. One thrust and he was fully embedded. Her vaginal muscles clenched around him. She forced herself to relax, wanting the frenzied mating to last. “You feel so good, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Stay still. Let me enjoy being inside you.” Brenna tried. And lasted less than a minute. She pushed down on her heels and jerked her hips up against his weight. Ace’s hands tightened, and he thrust. Withdrew and thrust again. The climax hit and Brenna spasmed. Ace tensed. Brenna wrapped her legs around his waist as he came and prayed that another child be conceived to replace the one they’d lost.

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Ace opened his eyes. Memories of last night rippled through his mind, giving him a hard-on. He reached for Brenna’s warmth. Needed to touch her. Panic surged when his fingers found nothing but emptiness. He jackknifed upright. She was gone. The flame of the kerosene lantern flickered, ready to go out. They’d never extinguished it last night. Had she gone to the outhouse? He bolted from the bed and grabbed his pants off the floor. On his way to the door, a white piece of paper on the table caught his eye. He retrieved it, angry that his fingers shook. Good morning, Sorry I couldn’t stay. Have to take the Desperado out to check and bait the traps. Be back later this afternoon and we’ll go see Colin together. She’d been gone less than fifteen minutes, according to the time jotted on top of the paper. He struggled into his jeans, shoved his feet into his boots and grabbed a clean shirt from his duffle bag. He ran out into the darkness, carrying his parka. Stars still twinkled in a black sky. Faint fingers of light stretched high on the far eastern horizon, yet dawn wouldn’t make its presence known for at least another hour. Other than water lapping against the dock posts and an occasional squeak of boats rubbing against the pieces of Styrofoam protecting them from the pier, the only noise was the fog horn that sounded every forty-five seconds out on Chance Island. Another hour and the gulls would be squawking and other lobstermen and fishermen would be clambering over the docks. Brenna breathed deeply, closed her eyes and savored the fresh air, the scent so strong she could almost taste it. Soon she’d be underway and feel the salt spray on her face. Footsteps running down the pier stopped her from casting off. Surprise mingled with happiness when Ace came into view. Her smile faltered when Ace got to the boat. “You should have woken me.” He intense eyes were not quite angry, but serious. “I thought I’d let you sleep. It’s the middle of the night.” 74

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She loved being with him again, but had wanted this time alone. Time to think about what Ace might be keeping from her. Now that he was here, she couldn’t send him away. “Come aboard. We’ll spend the day together. I could use another set of hands.” Suddenly, the dock swayed under his feet. Brenna chuckled at the resigned look on his face. She watched him brace his feet against the rolling sensation. “I won’t get sick today,” he muttered. “Even if it kills me.” Brenna couldn’t stifle a giggle. So Ace still struggled with seasickness. Some things never changed. That knowledge somehow brought her comfort. A faint light twinkled in his eyes. “Think it’s funny, do you?” “I’ve got some Dramamine.” Ace jumped onto the boat and swayed, grabbing the edge until he found his equilibrium. “Give it to me quick. It takes a while to work.” Brenna reached in her pocket and handed him the package and watched him swallow the pill dry. Hopefully, he wouldn’t spend the trip with his head hung over the side. She remembered many a trip in the past where he’d done just that. An hour later, they’d left Spruce Harbor behind. The sun now peeked over the horizon and shined through the frozen salty mist giving a surreal look to the morning. The red sky forewarned of bad weather coming. Brenna reached for the Thermos and poured herself a cup of coffee. She loved this time of day. A new day, a new beginning. Her gaze wandered to Ace, who stood at the helm, keeping the lobster boat on course. The scene belonged on canvas. He looked right at home. Their lives had come full circle. Would they be able to make it this time around? Or would the past prevent them from sharing a future? A niggling voice warned her that the odds were stacked against a happy ending. Too much bad history. Ace’s words echoed in her head.

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A gambler by nature, Brenna wouldn’t give up without a fight. Twelve years ago, she’d let Ace walk out of her life. She should have tracked him down. She’d not make that mistake again. Somehow she’d convince him she’d never have willingly allowed him to stay in jail. Neither would she have given his child away. Surely, he knew the infant’s death had devastated her. How could he think otherwise? Last night had been beautiful. He wouldn’t have made love to her the way he had if he still had doubts. Yet she knew he had a secret. If he didn’t still have doubts about her honesty, then what was he hiding? Chi-sach-heetan, he’d whispered. I love you. Remembering the words melted her heart. “A penny for them.” Brenna smiled. “I was thinking about you. Surely, that makes them worth at least a nickel.” “I could use a cup of coffee.” “Sure? How’s your stomach?” “Feeling just fine. Dramamine did the trick.” Brenna fished out a Styrofoam cup out of her pack and poured him a cup. “Thanks,” he murmured, as she handed him the black coffee. “Just the way I like it. Surprised you remember.” “You’d be surprised at the things I remember,” she said in a moment of boldness. Those dark eyes looked at her from over the cup as he took another drink. “Probably not. My memory’s been kicking me in the ass since I arrived in Spruce Harbor.” “What have you been doing for the past twelve years?” The warmth in his eyes disappeared. Brenna sighed at the closed expression that descended over his face. His mouth tightened, his gaze shifted away.

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“I’m not asking for a list of your love conquests,” she persisted. “I just want to know about your life in general. Did you go to college? Do you have a job? Where do you call home?” Ace met her gaze head on. “When I got out of jail, my mother and I left for Quebec. To stay with relatives. I spent a few years traveling with the Cree. North to James Bay in the winter. Returned south to paddle the lakes in the summer, moving from camp to camp.” There was no humor in his laugh. “Here we’re called Native Americans. In Canada we’re First Nation. It all means the same. We’re Indians. I will say that Canada lets us move around at will. Tribes aren’t confined to reservations, unless that’s what they want. We can hunt, trap and fish as we see fit.” After a long pause he asked, “Any more coffee?” Brenna unscrewed the thermos and filled his cup. The hot liquid sent a spiral of steam into the cold air. “How long did you stay in Quebec?” Ace shrugged. “About two and a half years. Then I got accepted at a college in Maryland. Decided I wanted to go into law enforcement.” “Law enforcement?” Brenna squeaked and took a large gulp of her coffee, burning her throat. “Why?” “I thought I wanted to be a cop on a reservation. Changed my mind during the second year.” Brenna pushed her hair out of her face. “So what do you do?” His dark eyes locked onto hers. “I work for the government.” She put her coffee down before she spilled it. She wouldn’t have been more surprised if he’d said he was a plumber. “The government? Doing what?” “DEA. Drug Enforcement Agency.” For the first time she admitted that she’d hoped Ace had returned to Spruce Harbor to see her again. Fool. Then terror struck her heart. Ace wouldn’t help Colin. He’d crucify him. “Tongue tied?” “You’re here on an assignment. To find who’s dealing drugs.”

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“Yes.” Brenna looked down at her folded hands. “Are you undercover?” “Not officially, but I’d prefer to keep it quiet as long as possible. In this place, I figure I’m good for about a week. If that.” She shrugged. “I don’t have any reason to broadcast the information.” “Is it okay to put this thing on automatic pilot or whatever you call it on a boat?” Brenna walked over and switched off the engine. The sea was calm. They could float for a few minutes. She glanced down when Ace’s hand curled around her arm. “None of this matters to us,” he said quietly. “I don’t see how that’s possible. You told me you’d help Colin. Today I find out it’s your job to prosecute him.” “That’s not true. The only ones I want behind bars are the ones peddling drugs. You’ve assured me Colin isn’t.” The coffee she’d drank rose in her throat. What if Colin had lied? Could she bear to see her brother go to prison? Yes. If he’d stooped to the level of selling drugs, he belonged behind bars. “Will you still talk to him?” “I said I would. We’ll go as soon as we get back to Spruce Harbor. Where are your traps?” The glorious sunrise had disappeared while they’d been talking and now a heavy mist filled the air. “Not far from here. There’s some rain gear in the storage box. Go get it. I’ll take the wheel.” Ace cursed beneath his breath. Brenna shut down like a clam the minute he’d told her he was a DEA agent. He shouldn’t be surprised. Did he think the sex last night would make her trust him? She’d always loved her brother. When they’d been kids, she’d clucked over him like a mother hen. If Brenna had doubts now, how would she feel when she discovered their daughter was alive? Not only alive, but living with him all these years?

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He opened the storage box and hooked the lid to the screw eye to keep it open. As he picked up the raingear, his worries about Brenna vanished. A cold, clammy sweat broke out over his body, despite the chill in the air. His heart raced, and the nausea he’d been fighting all morning threatened to spill. A cell phone connected by wire to plastic explosives lay nestled on top of coiled rope.

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Chapter Nine If it didn’t malfunction, the bomb would explode the moment the phone rang. He scanned the horizon. No other boats in sight. Were they being watched with high tech binoculars? Someone in a seaplane? Sweat continued to prickle his back. Thankfully, it had started to rain. Otherwise, they’d have had no reason to open the storage box. God, if he hadn’t decided to follow Brenna, she’d be out here alone. He refused to think about it. He inhaled deeply and said a quick prayer. He considered heaving the bomb over the side at the same time Brenna gunned the engine. Just then Brenna glanced at him and smiled. “Can’t find the rain gear? There should be two sets right near the top.” Ace swallowed, although his mouth remained dry as the Sahara. “Brenna. Listen very carefully.” Her smile faded. “What’s wrong?” He held up a hand when she started toward him. “Stay there!” “Why?” Her brow puckered in a frown. “You’re scaring me.” “There’s a bomb in this gear box. I have no expertise about these devices. We have to get off this boat.” Brenna had always been quick to accept a situation, no matter how serious. Today was no exception. “Life jackets are around the corner to your right. On a hook. Let’s drop the raft and paddle like hell.” “Perhaps I can pick up the bomb and—” “No,” she cut in. “That’s crazy.”

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What the hell was wrong with him? She was right. He knew better. Fear of losing the woman he’d just rediscovered after so long clouded his judgment. “Okay. Ready the raft.” He reached for the life jackets, put one on and buckled up. He hurried to where Brenna prepared the raft and helped her into the second fluorescent orange jacket. “Hurry, sweetheart. That phone could ring any second.” He tossed the raft into the water. Within seconds it inflated and he held it close to the boat by an attached rope. “You first—go!” he commanded when Brenna opened her mouth to refuse. He picked her up and held her over the water. She had no choice but to grab the side of the boat. She dropped into the raft and rolled. He tossed the paddles. “Hurry, Ace.” He swung over the side and landed in the raft. They each grabbed an aluminum paddle and put all their strength into putting distance between them and the fishing vessel. A gust of wind swung the boat around, giving them a view of the name Desperado written in bold red. A new boat, Brenna had said. Her father had taken a second mortgage to buy it. The deafening explosion lifted their small raft out of the water. Brenna screamed something at him, but he couldn’t hear from the roar in his ears. They’d be lucky if the noise of the explosion didn’t damage their hearing. Tidal-sized waves started to roll. Most headed toward shore building momentum. One broke over the raft, dumping water in the bottom. Brenna bailed with her hands. Pieces of wood and debris smashed into the water around them. A burning piece of wood landed next to his leg and sizzled in the water. Ace ignored the pain in his hand as he heaved it back into the sea. The strong smell of diesel oil drifted in the air. “Are you all right?” Brenna continued to paddle, her face a hard mask. He saw no tears. There should be tears. “I’m fine. Someone just declared war. I intend to fight back.” www.samhainpublishing.com

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“Brenna, no one knew I’d be on the boat this morning. Someone was after Colin. Or,” he stressed the word, “someone knew Colin had been arrested, so you’d be the one taking the Desperado out today. If that’s the case, then you’re the target.” “They’ll find I make a tough enemy.” Waves continued to rock the small raft. Ace pulled his paddle inside and drew Brenna close. “You don’t have to fight alone.” Shaken, Brenna watched what remained of the Desperado as it sunk to the ocean’s bottom. A short time later, the sea looked as always, with only an occasional piece of debris bobbing in the water. “We were lucky.” She started at Ace’s voice. She wiped away the tears she refused to shed with the sleeve of her jacket. “Who would do this? Lobstering was my livelihood. Without the Desperado…” She squeezed her eyes tight, unable to continue. Ace hugged her closer. “I’ll take care of you.” She stiffened. “I don’t need your pity, Ace. Or your money. I’ll find a way. I always have.” “Any insurance on the boat?” Brenna swallowed hard and shook her head. “My father said he couldn’t afford the insurance payments. Since the boat wasn’t financed, none were required.” “Then accept my help. We’re partners now. After last night—” He broke off to answer his cell. Brenna picked up the paddle and dipped it in the water. They had a long way to go. Ace should call the Coast Guard. Ace’s tone and monosyllabic answers on the phone caught her attention. She shivered. Whoever he talked to didn’t have good news. He’d turned his back but not before she saw his face pale. He lowered his voice. All she caught was a meaningless word here and there.

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Abruptly, he ended the conversation and slipped the cell into his shirt pocket. He hunched his shoulders and made no move to face her. Brenna gripped the paddle. “Who was that on the phone? Did you get bad news?” Slowly, he twisted around. Pity filled his dark eyes. Her gut clenched. Losing the Desperado would take a second seat to what he’d just been told. He opened his arms. “Come here. Let me hold you.” She crawled on her knees. Warm hands trembled against her ribs. Ace shaking? The news had to be bad. Brenna’s mind raced with possibilities. The farm burned down. Her mother had a heart attack. Colin. Oh, God, something had happened to Colin. She tilted her head and gazed into Ace’s eyes. “Colin?” “Yes.” He smoothed his hand over her cheek. “I’m sorry, Brenna. He’s dead.” Dead? How could that be? He was in jail. “How?” Was that her voice sounding cool and calm when inside it was screaming? Ace’s voice faded in and out. “Suicide…hung himself…cell.” Numbness spread into her limbs. Suicide? They must be wrong. Maybe got his name mixed up with someone else’s. Colin would never kill himself. Not her smiling, cocky brother. Just yesterday, he’d begged for her help and she’d refused. If she’d picked up the phone to call Anson, none of this would have happened. Her mother had pegged her. She was selfish, thinking only of herself. “Brenna, don’t go there. It’s not your fault.” Faster than a jack-in-the-box, she sprang out of his arms and scrambled as far away as she could in the small raft. “If I’d gone to see him last night like I wanted to, this wouldn’t have happened. Instead, I stayed so we could screw like a couple of rabbits.” His mouth tightened. “That’s bull and you know it.”

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“Do I? Colin begged me to help him. My mother begged me to call Anson. I could have prevented this,” she sobbed. “How?” Ace ground out. “By selling yourself?” “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late now.” Coffee rose to the back of her throat. She leaned over the side and retched into the sea. Painful dry heaves continued long after her stomach had emptied itself. She rested her cheek on the cool rubber and listened to the gulls crying in the distance. Ace scooted across the raft. His strong hand rubbed her back. She wanted to push him away, but didn’t have the strength. She splashed cold water on her face. Next, she rinsed her mouth and went willingly when Ace gently tugged her against his chest. The roar of a boat engine came from the west. Brenna squinted and searched the horizon. A Coast Guard vessel bounded over the water. Ace’s breath warmed her cold cheek. “That was fast. I just reported the explosion. Someone must have seen it from the air and called it in.” Brenna shrugged. She could care less if she floated on the ocean swells forever. Nothing mattered. Colin was dead. If she’d gone to see him, she’d have known he was distraught enough to commit suicide. “You’re wrong, Brenna.” She jumped at the ferocity of Ace’s voice. “What?” “No one could have known Colin’s intent. And there’s no guarantee you could have prevented his suicide. Even if you’d visited him last night.” “You don’t know that. You know nothing about Colin, or me—or the life we’ve led since you left town.” “Maybe not, but I do know about suicide. Don’t heap blame onto yourself.” The captain of the cutter’s voice blared through a megaphone. “Hello. Anyone injured?” “We’re fine,” Ace hollered, his gaze fixed on Brenna. He paddled the raft over to the cutter. 84

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Once aboard, they drank hot soup and wrapped up in wool blankets. Brenna sat on a chair inside the cabin and let Ace handle all the questions. Ace leaned against the rail and tried to get a handle on the latest happenings. Brenna stayed huddled beneath the heavy, gray wool blanket. She was too damn calm for his peace of mind. Apathetic would be a better description. A fighting, spitting Brenna he could understand. This listless, unconcerned woman made him uncomfortable. To what dark place had her mind escaped? A medic had declared them both fit so he knew she wasn’t in shock. Right now she blamed herself for Colin’s death. It was only a matter of time before she shifted the blame to him. The drug mystery surrounding Spruce Harbor continued to grow more complex. Talks with county sheriffs hadn’t shed much light. They believed that much of drugs brought into the area was transported out of the state and sold in southern New England. He supposed that might be the case. Users like the Shay’s accepted heroin in payment for driving the drugs south. It still didn’t explain why someone wanted Brenna out of the picture. Other than Anson, she hadn’t pissed anyone off. At least not that he knew about. Nothing added up. She’d not been involved in Colin’s dealings. He’d bet his life on that. If someone wanted her dead, the day he broke into her home would have been a perfect time to kill her. Had the perp heard Ace arrive and fled before he accomplished the deed? He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned his gaze out to sea. He’d been crazy to think he could return to Spruce Harbor as an unbiased DEA agent. He should take himself off the assignment. Tell the Agency to send another agent. His cell vibrated against his chest. Pulling it from his pocket, he checked the incoming number. “Any news?” he asked Byron Flaherty, a

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computer hacker who worked for the DEA. The guy was an expert at finding out just about anything in the cyber world. “No other babies born in the eastern half of Maine on the night in question.” “Deaths?” Ace held his breath. “Zilch. Nada.” A long hiss of relief escaped Ace’s lungs. “Thanks, Byron. I owe you. I’ve got one more thing.” He pulled the cell away from his ear to avoid the loud groan from the phone. “Jesus, Ace. I’ve got other assignments on my plate and—” “I know. But I can’t take the time right now to do the research myself. Besides, even if I had the time, it’d take me five times as long as it takes you.” Silence greeted Ace’s praise. “How about a free weekend for you and Cindy at that getaway place on the shore that you like so much?” Ace banked on Byron not being able to refuse a way to impress his latest girlfriend and sighed with relief at Byron’s response. “All right. What is it?” Ace told the computer geek what he needed. He’d no sooner disconnected the call than the phone rang again. Hairs on the back of his neck bristled while he listened to the results of the preliminary autopsies performed on Roger and Shawna Shay. Ninety-nine percent pure heroin showed up in their blood. Now there was lethal heroin on the street. This put an entirely new spin on the situation. If he didn’t find the source soon, there’d be a lot more dead bodies turning up. Word needed to get out there fast. At a slight jolt of the boat, he looked up, surprised they’d arrived at the pier. Putting his thoughts on hold, he started toward Brenna. A young, sandy-haired man charged down the pier. “Where is she? Where’s Brenna?” A crew member pointed to the small enclosed area where Brenna sat, still hunched over. The stranger bolted toward her.

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The old green-eyed monster stabbed Ace. He rested against the rail and watched the man drop to his knee and grab Brenna’s hands. News in Spruce Harbor traveled faster than the Coast Guard. By now, probably the entire town knew that the Desperado had exploded and rested at the bottom of the ocean. And that Colin McKenzie had taken his own life. Spreading the word about lethal heroin on the streets should be easy. “Excuse me,” Ace said as he elbowed in front of the newcomer. Anger flashed across the man’s face. “Who are you?” Brenna rose and dropped the blanket on the bench. “Trent, this is Ace Bear. Ace, Trent Peirce. He’s the veterinarian in the area.” Trent bristled like a pit bull, protecting his territory. “How’d you get here so fast?” Brenna asked. “I was at the farm when your mother got the call. Come on. I’ll take you home.” As much as Ace hated Trent Peirce taking Brenna anywhere, he had things to do. “Thanks, Peirce. Mind staying with her until I get to the farm?” That earned him a nasty glare from Brenna, as well as the vet. Brenna opened her mouth to say something, changed her mind and walked away with Trent hot on her trail.

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Chapter Ten Ace cursed the rose thorns clinging to his jeans as he maneuvered the path to Mrs. Pinkham’s house. The front stairs were in dire need of repair. Didn’t the old lady have someone to help her? His hand was in midair to knock when the door squeaked open. There stood Mrs. Pinkham, his fifth grade teacher. One of the few who’d shown him nothing but kindness. She squinted as if she could better see him through small slits. Her thin lips curved into the huge smile he remembered. The blue eyes opened wider and twinkled. “I swear, Ace Bear, you’re a sight for sore eyes. What brings you back to these parts?” “Wanted to visit my favorite teacher.” Her blue-veined hand swatted his arm. “Get out. You always did like to flatter the ladies.” She opened the door wider. “Come in and sit a spell. Tell me what you’ve been up to all these years.” Ace followed her into the living room. “Not much to tell.” He sank onto a chair that turned out to be as uncomfortable as it looked. “Hogwash. I don’t believe that.” Ethel Pinkham sat primly on the couch, her feet crossed at the ankles and her hands folded in her lap. “Just like I don’t believe for a second you came back to see an old teacher.” Ace chuckled. “Never could fool you, Mrs. Pinkham.” “Yesah.” She grinned. “What’s on your mind, young man?” “Wanted to get your thoughts about the drug problems in the area.”

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A flash of something Ace couldn’t put a name to came and went in her eyes. Surprise? Fear? The expression disappeared before he could flesh it out. “Devil’s alive and well in Spruce Harbor is what I say. Yesah.” “So you’ve heard tales?” The white eyebrows rose. “Gracious, Ace. The whole town’s heard stories. And I read the newspaper just like everyone else. You’re dancing around my questions. Why did you come back to town?” Ace fought the desire to loosen the collar of his denim shirt. Mrs. Pinkham had always had that effect on him. “I’m concerned about the increase of drug use on the reservations.” It wasn’t a total lie. She nodded vigorously and not one white hair stirred. She must have at least a can of hair spray holding it in place. “Yesah. I figured it was something like that. It’s a known fact that drug users are generally the poor and ignorant.” He stiffened. Was she dumping on the Passamaquoddy People? Get a grip man. Stuff the paranoia. “Life is difficult for Indians everywhere in the country. Alcohol has always been a problem. I’d like to make sure that heroin doesn’t take its place.” Mrs. Pinkham patted her hair. “That’s why I always admired you. You were a step ahead of the rest of your people. Had more ambition and more brains.” Most of his respect for the woman vanished. She was no different than anyone else in this godforsaken town. “Anyone come here asking for your advice?” Mrs. Pinkham’s brows rose again. “My advice? What makes you think anyone would want my advice?” Ace shrugged. “Maybe because I would have—that is, if I lived here and had a drug problem,” he amended quickly.

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Her laughter came out like a cackle. “Lawdy, Ace. Who do you think I am? Mother Theresa? You oughta be asking what I would do about the drug problem.” His interest spiked. “I’m listening.” “Nothin’. Not a damn thing.” “What?” “I say let the evil run its course.” “That’s not the lesson you taught your students.” “Times change, Ace. I’ve learned that evil always prevails in the long run.” “Drugs kill people on a daily basis, Mrs. Pinkham. It’s starting to happen right in your backyard. Surely, you heard about the Shays?” “Just read it in the morning paper. How’s Julienne faring?” “She’s lucky to be alive. If I hadn’t found her—” “You found her? The paper didn’t mention that.” She sat up straighter and leaned forward. “What were you doing up in the barrens at that time of night?” A crafty look brightened her eyes. “Ah…now I understand. You n’ Brenna McKenzie. She ran straight from the church to you.” The lady jabbed a bony finger at him. “You watch yourself, Ace. Don’t go leavin’ her with another bun in the oven. The last one almost killed her.” Ace squirmed in the chair. “We’ve veered off track, Mrs. Pinkham. Julienne’s an orphan.” She shook her head. “I know. What a shame. Such a cunnin’ little girl. Perhaps there’s family from away who’ll take her in?” “Perhaps.” “Just had a phone call from Brenna’s mother. Seems you had a bit of trouble on the Desperado. A bomb. Just imagine.” “News travels fast. I suppose you heard about Colin, too?”

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“That boy was always unstable. Not that I’d say so to Doris, mind you,” she hastened to add. “The poor woman still hasn’t come to terms with Daniel’s death. She’ll need all her friends to rally around her.” Ace rose, anxious to exit. Obviously, this visit had been a waste of his time. He couldn’t even remember what he’d hoped to learn by talking to the old lady in the first place. “I’ll be going now. Got another appointment. Nice seeing you. You haven’t aged a day in twelve years.” “Shucks, Ace. I’m too old to fall for your lines,” she said, patting her hair once again. “You staying in town long?” “I’m not sure. Depends.” “On whether you find a piece of land?” “Excuse me?” “To build your complex on. I thought that was the reason you returned. To provide better housing for the Indians during blueberry season?” “Oh.” Damn. Lying always got him in deep shit. “Well, I don’t see much up for sale so I guess it won’t happen.” “Not surprised. There aren’t too many people who’d be willing to sell you land if it’s going to bring in more Indians. Old beliefs die hard, Ace. There are always going to be those who’ll think every rolled up piece of tar paper harbors a sleeping Injun.” The truth of her words burned his gut. He relaxed his clenched hands. “I’ll probably see you before I leave town.” “Well, stop by any time. You know your way out.” She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. He stiffened when he heard her voice from behind him. “How is Brenna? She all right?” He turned to face her. “Shaken up, but okay.” “Take my advice. Don’t go lookin’ for trouble. You might not like what you find.”

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What nonsense was she spouting now? “Have a good day, ma’am.” He slipped out the door and sidestepped down the path to avoid the rose thorns. She’d pretended to put a friendly foot forward, but he sensed the same reluctance to talk as he had with the other residents he’d approached, not to mention discovering her bigotry. He’d been too young to see it before. Ace pulled up at the town pier, climbed out of the SUV, popped a beer and stretched his legs. He’d visited five more houses after Ethel Pinkham’s and knew nothing more than he had yesterday. People were unwilling to look him in the eye, never mind talk. Whether because they now considered him an outsider, or because of old bigotries, their silence remained a mystery. Luther Peabody was next on his list. The last of the day. Unless he could get Brenna to help with the interviews, Ace had a feeling he’d spin his wheels for a long time. He grabbed his parka from the back seat and shrugged it on before reaching inside for the paper bag on the front seat. Then he headed down the long wooden pier next to the marina. Now to find the old man. Twilight had turned the sky on the western horizon a deep plum color. Water lapped against the wooden pilings. Ace had always found that sound peaceful, as long as nothing moved. He paused where the pier forked. One ramp led to the small marina office and what used to be an eat-in-the-rough restaurant. Pick out the lobster of your choice. Luther would throw it in boiling water and bring it to a picnic table with a side of melted butter. Looked like the restaurant was a thing of the past. Gone by the wayside like so many other small enterprises Downeast. The Coast Guard vessel had left. Luther hadn’t been around in all the commotion this morning. Unusual. The man Ace remembered had a nose for news. “Lookin’ for me?”

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Ace turned toward the sound of the rusty voice. What a déjà vu. Luther probably still wore the same pair of pants he’d worn twelve years ago. “Hey, old man. Remember me?” Luther studied him in the fading light. “Can’t say I do. Should I?” Great. His best hope was senile. Ace held the paper bag toward him. “Want a beer? I gave up smoking, so I can’t offer you a cigarette.” “Roll my own, now.” Luther reached into his shirt pocket. “Can’t afford to buy the damn things. I never refuse a free brew, though. I’m dry as a herrin’.” He prayed for patience, set the bag on the pier and pulled out a can. “Here you go. Just like old times.” Something clicked in the old man’s brain. “Ace Bear. Well, I’ll be damned.” He slapped his thigh. “Good God. It’s been a long time. We used to have some mighty lengthy chats down here while we sucked on beers and cigarettes.” “That we did, old man.” The huge, toothless smile on Luther’s face proved he hadn’t lied all those years ago when he’d told Ace he didn’t believe in false teeth. “Never thought you’d come back to town. Not after that incident with Billie Crane and Brenna McKenzie.” Ace’s hand tightened on the can of Budweiser. “I didn’t kill Billie. He fell on his own damned knife, trying to stab me.” “Calm down, young whippersnapper. I never for a second believed you did. Not your style.” Luther chugged his beer. His bent, gnarled fingers reached into the bag to retrieve another. “So what you doing back in Spruce Harbor? Come back for the girl?” “No. She’s not the reason I’m back, although I think I’ll grab her while I’m here.” Luther laughed. “Don’t blame you. A hard-working woman and pretty to boot.” “I’m a drug agent now. With the government,” Ace added, when Luther showed no emotion.

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“That right? Done well for yourself.” “I’d like to pick your brain. Perhaps you’ve seen something that might help me find whoever’s bringing heroin into town.” Luther shook his near bald head. “Heroin? Bad stuff.” He held up his beer. “What happened to the days when kids were content drinking a six pack in some deserted gravel pit and then shooting at the cans for target practice?” Ace wished he knew the answer. “Where were you earlier today? Didn’t see you around when the Coast Guard cutter pulled in.” “I don’t spend twenty-four hours on this pier. I had to take a jaunt to Machias. Arrange for some engine parts to be delivered. What the hell happened? Heard the Desperado blew to smithereens.” Ace nodded. “You heard right. Any idea who’d want to do that?” “Hell, no. Can’t think of anyone in this town who’d want to hurt Brenna. ‘Cept maybe Anson Carter since she left him bleeding at the altar. He’s been all over her like ticks on a deer since he arrived in Machias.” “How about the drugs? You’ve got sharp eyes, Luther. Even sharper ears. Heard any stories about that?” Luther tipped over an old bait pail and sat. “Sorry. These old legs just ain’t what they used to be. Neither are my eyes and ears. Not many addicts hang out on the pier. No reason to.” Damn. He’d have an easier time pulling what teeth remained in Luther’s mouth than getting any information. Addicts might not hang out here, but there was a strong possibility the drugs could be coming in by water. “Have another beer. As long as you’re not driving.” “Don’t mind if I do. I ain’t going nowhere else today.” “Shame about the Shays.” “Feel bad about the little girls. Their parents were no good. Blew into town one day, rented a beat up trashy trailer. Never worked. Lived off the state.”

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“The heroin was pure. That’s what killed them. Not an overdose as first reported.” Luther gave him a blank look. “Heroin strong enough to kill an elephant.” The old man’s eyes widened. “That a fact?” “If the dealers aren’t stopped, there’ll be plenty more deaths.” “Think Colin gave it to them? Mayhap that’s why he hung himself.” Luther scratched his head. “That boy never was too smart. If his brains had been lard, there wouldn’t have been enough to grease a frying pan.” “I think there’s a bigger fish than Colin swimming in the pond. I just need to unravel the tangled line. People in this town are too closedmouthed. No one will talk.” “They’ve all got their secrets. That’s for sure.” “Secrets?” Ace probed. “What kind of secrets?” “Peyton Place has got nothing on Spruce Harbor. The things I could tell you…” “I paid a visit to Ethel Pinkham this morning.” Luther swallowed a mouthful of beer and belched. “How is the old bat? There was a time way back when I lusted after that woman. She was quite something in her day. The vision of Ethel and Luther together boggled Ace’s mind. “You’re kidding me?” “Nope. And I weren’t the only one. She was one hot mama.” “Can’t quite picture it, old man. I think your memory has short circuited.” Luther shot Ace a crafty look. “Bet you didn’t know that one of the Gars knocked up Ethel Pinkham’s daughter, Florrie.” “You’re shitting me,” Ace said in genuine astonishment. “Didn’t even know she had a daughter.” “Not many people do. All hush, hush. Hustled Florrie away, saying she was going to boarding school. Heard she went to stay with relatives.”

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“What happened to her?” “Rumor had it she got killed in a car accident not long after the baby was born.” Ace tried to picture the straight-laced Mrs. Pinkham dealing with a pregnant daughter. The image wouldn’t come. “What happened to the baby?” Luther shrugged. “No idea. Adopted, I guess.” “And you’re telling me that someone from the most prestigious family in Spruce Harbor fathered Florrie’s child?” “Oh yeah. Woodrow, old Jasper’s son. Woodrow later married and produced John. He’s the one who lives in the big house now.” Ace helped himself to his second beer and handed the last one to Luther. “The big house was empty for a long time until Woodrow’s grandson, John, and his wife moved back to town with two little Gars in tow about…I’d say about a year ago.” The same time Anson showed up. Coincidence? “Jasper still living? How about Woodrow?” “Nah, they both died years ago. Things sure did come full circle in that clan, though.” “What do you mean?” “Before Ethel married, she panted after Jasper like a bitch in heat.” Ace choked on a mouthful of beer. Luther laughed. “I swear, it’s the God’s honest truth. They’d meet down here on one of Jasper’s yachts. And I can tell ya’ that boat got rocking mighty fierce when they went aboard.” “What broke them up?” “Jasper wouldn’t have settled for the likes of Ethel. She might be okay for a little fun, but marry? His father had already picked out his bride. Some rich biddy from New York.” “How did Ethel handle that?”

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“Jasper’s wife was two ax handles wide and so ugly they had to tie a pork chop around her neck to get a dog to play with her. Old Jasper wanted his cake and eat it, too. He and Ethel met a few more times on the boat after the wedding, but soon the boat stopped rocking. You know what they say…ashes of love are cold as ice. Few months later she up and married a local.” “Makes me wonder what else you have stored in the head of yours, Luther.” “Nearly eighty years of Spruce Harbor history.” “How about current events? Anything interesting happening in the here and now?” “Come to think of it, there might be. Twice now, I’ve seen Ethel and John Gar meet on the docks. Too far away for me to hear what they were saying, but didn’t look like they were passing no pleasantries between them.” Ethel and John Gar arguing? Interesting, now that he knew a little history. “Luther, do you remember what year Florrie got pregnant?” “Let me think. I’d say it must have been nineteen sixty-four or thereabouts. No.” Luther snapped his fingers. “Nineteen sixty-three, the year Kennedy was assassinated.” “Who else has been down to the pier lately?” Luther looked at him as if he had shit for brains. “Now what kinda damn fool question is that? Just about the whole damn town at one time or another.” “Any more arguments? People who looked like they were up to more than enjoying the ocean view?” “The Bennetts got into it one night. George had one too many and Flo lit into him good.” “That all?” “All I can remember.” Luther took a swig of beer. “Wait a minute. Three or four weeks ago Anson Carter and Brenna’s mother met on the

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pier. Weren’t arguing exactly, but they sure were having one corker of a conversation.” “Hear what they said?” “Nope. Old Doris was poking her finger in Anson’s chest. Anson never backed down none. He stood his ground. Must have ended in a stalemate cause Doris stomped away and left him standing there.” Luther looked at Ace. “Don’t suppose you got any more beer?” “Nope. Sorry, old man. I’ll be around in the next few days, and we’ll do this again.” Ace dug into his pocket and handed Luther a card. “Here’s my cell number, call me if anything else comes to mind.” The old face brightened. “Looking forward to another visit. I’ll pick my own brain. Maybe I’ll find something useful.” Ace retraced his steps on the pier and dumped the empty cans and bag into a trash can sitting at the end of the building. Luther would fish them out before Ace was out of sight. The old man was too proud to ask for the six-cent cans. Ace stopped cold at a scuffling noise and a flicker of shadow around the corner of the building. Going into stealth mode, he rounded the corner. The parking lot was empty. The sound he could explain as his imagination, but he wasn’t wrong about the shadow.

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Chapter Eleven The two thick pieces of homemade bread popped out of the toaster, jarring Brenna. The sadness and guilt sitting in her chest ruined her enjoyment of Thunder and Thor romping in the paddock. Planning Colin’s funeral and then sitting in front pew trying not to wail out loud while the minister talked about the celebration of Colin’s life had taken its toll. She hadn’t slept more than three hours last night. Instead, memories of a carefree Colin during happier days tripped through her head. She lay awake for hours trying to pinpoint the exact time his life had taken such a wrong turn. Was there a way she could have helped him? A few years back, Colin had wanted to try his luck in Massachusetts. Their mother had thrown a hissy fit and for once Brenna had backed her, not wanting her brother to move out-of-state. Perhaps if she’d encouraged him to leave, he would have had a chance to make something of his life. This coastal area provided few job opportunities and most young people left Maine soon after graduation. The ones who stayed struggled to make a living. She spread jam on her toast and heaved another sigh. It was too late for the “what if” game. Yet, shedding her burden of guilt didn’t seem likely in the near future. Ace hadn’t stirred when she’d climbed out of bed this morning. Soon after supper last night he’d closeted himself in the den. She’d heard him talking on his cell while she’d washed dishes. He’d been typing on his laptop when she’d peeked in to say good night. Not knowing how to fix the problem between them, she’d pretended to sleep when he climbed in bed at two a.m. www.samhainpublishing.com

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She fully intended to help Ace find those responsible for the drugs. She owed that much to Colin. After pouring a third cup of coffee, she sank onto a chair and nibbled her toast. The sweet blueberry jam she’d slathered on the top activated her taste buds. The last few days had taken a toll, physically and emotionally. Most of the town had showed up at Colin’s funeral. A few came out of curiosity, many because they sincerely cared. His friends had filed past the casket in shocked disbelief. Perhaps her brother’s death would serve as a wake-up call for some of them. Ace had stuck to her like pitch from a spruce tree while he watched everyone with an eagle eye. If he’d seen or heard anything suspicious, he’d not shared the information. For the past few days, they’d hardly spoken. For four nights they’d slept in the same bed without touching. Ace had rejected her suggestion that he take Colin’s room, insistent she not be alone. Brenna tensed at the shuffle of her mother’s slippers on the floor behind her. “Coffee’s ready,” she said without turning. She didn’t feel up to a confrontation. Why hadn’t the woman slept in this morning? After a coughing fit, her mother managed to ask, “How long is he staying here?” “You really should stop smoking.” A mug slammed on the table, sloshing coffee over the sides. “Don’t lecture me.” Against her better judgment, Brenna raised her gaze and looked into her mother’s bloodshot eyes. “As usual, you drank too much yesterday.” “For Christ’s sake, give me a break. I just lost my son.” “We both know you don’t need an excuse to drink.” “No fighting, ladies,” Ace entered the room. “Let’s have a peaceful morning.”

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Doris pounded a clenched fist on the table. “There’ll be no peace in this house until you’re gone, Ace Bear. You’ve brought grief to everyone you’ve ever touched.” Ace raised his eyebrows and helped himself to a cup of coffee. “Sorry you feel that way. Get used to me. I’m a permanent fixture here. Just like this toaster,” he added as he plopped two pieces of bread into the slots. The fierce pounding behind Brenna’s eyes made her nauseated. A full-blown migraine lurked close by, waiting to attack. “Mama, please. I have a headache.” “Mama, please, I have a headache,” her mother mimicked. “When don’t you have a headache? Your life has been nothing but one huge headache.” “Be quiet, Doris,” Ace commanded. “If you can’t be civil, go elsewhere.” Ace winked when Brenna mouthed a thank-you. She still wasn’t accustomed to his shorter hair. Even though it brushed his collar, the style was very different from when he’d arrived in town. He’d denied it when she’d asked, but Brenna knew he’d cut his hair out of respect for Colin. Her mother began to cry. Soft whimpers. A corner of Brenna’s heart ached to comfort her. Brenna knew what it was like to lose a child. She also knew her sympathy would be rejected. “I’ll be outside.” She grabbed her coat off the hook by the door and escaped into the fresh air. Ace busied himself preparing a meal of fresh eggs, slab bacon and homemade wheat bread. He ignored Doris weeping at the table. He bit into the toast while he cooked the eggs and bacon. “Who made the bread? It’s delicious.” Doris stopped crying. “What?” “The bread. It’s homemade. I have a hard time picturing you kneading bread.”

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“Brenna. She bakes about twenty loaves once a month. Sells most of it to some bakery in Ellsworth and freezes the rest.” Ace laughed. Doris looked like she’d just swallowed vinegar. He said, “You make it sound like she’s doing something criminal.” The woman’s eyes narrowed, then she smiled. Not a friendly smile. More of a sneer. “You’ve still got it bad for my daughter, don’t you? That’s why you’re hanging around here.” Ace tensed. He didn’t intend to discuss his feelings for Brenna with anyone, least of all Doris McKenzie. “I’m here because someone tried to blow your daughter out of the water. Doesn’t that concern you?” Doris shrugged. “I suppose.” “Here.” He pushed a plate in front of her. “Eat some breakfast. You should start taking better care of your health.” “What for?” she asked, eyes downcast as she used her fork to push the food around her plate.” “You’ve got a daughter. Or how about for your grandchildren?” The fork fell from her hand, clattered on the plate and bounced to the floor. “I don’t have grandchildren.” Her vehement denial surprised Ace. “Is that right?” He dug into his eggs with relish. “Guess I’ve been misinformed. Could have sworn you had a granddaughter. Let me see,” he added, “she’d be about twelve now.” The coffee cup shook uncontrollably on the way to her lips. She finally gave up and set it on the table with a thud. “Does Brenna know?” The pounding of his heart roared in his ears. “Know what?” Doris smirked. The devious look in her eyes made Ace regret ever starting this game. Yet, he felt a certain relief to have it in the open. “She doesn’t know, does she? What do you think she’d do if she found out? Think she’d still want you around?” Doris had effectively served the ball to his side of the court. He had a choice. Retreat or attack. He’d never been one to run from a fight. Ace ignored the old adage “a good run is always better than a bad stand”. “I

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think she’d be damned pissed that you and her father lied by telling her the baby died.” Doris’s gaze skittered away from him. She swallowed several times, took a deep breath then gave him a withering look. “She’d hate your guts for keeping the child from her all these years.” “Maybe,” he conceded and continued to eat. “Then again, I had good reason not to contact her. Remember? Daniel told me Brenna wanted to give the child up for adoption. I had no reason to doubt him. After all, I’d been in jail.” “It’d be your word against mine,” Doris challenged, her quivering chin held high. “Do you want to take the chance Brenna will believe me and turn on you?” Did he want to risk losing Brenna? Hell no! But there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell he’d let this vindictive woman know that. He maintained a calm aura, though his heart slammed against his ribcage. Amazing she couldn’t hear it. “Go for it, Doris. We’ll find out which one of us she believes.” Her gaze wavered and fell away from the intensity of his. “No reason to do that. Colin’s death is enough to deal with for now.” Ace shrugged as if he didn’t care. “Your choice.” He picked up a crisp piece of bacon and munched, never taking his eyes off her. “I’m curious, Doris. How did your husband manage to convince Brenna that her baby had died? Doris’s hand shook so bad coffee spilled onto the table. She managed to get the cup to her mouth and took a swallow. “I told him not to do it.” She kept her eyes on her plate. “Brenna was devastated when you left her…and so ill. The doctor said she might not make it.” She looked at him with tears in her eyes. “She hemorrhaged, you know. After the birth.” The thought of Brenna suffering needlessly increased his guilt and stoked his anger. “Why did the doctor allow Daniel to tell Brenna her child had died?”

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Doris toyed with her silverware, once again not meeting his gaze. “Daniel had a way with people. Besides, the doctor didn’t know Brenna thought the child had died. Daniel told the doctor and nurse that Brenna was guilt-ridden that she’d given the baby up for adoption. He convinced them she needed to be sedated. Daniel had her moved to a private nursing home the next day.” She slipped a cigarette from the pack on the table. “The doctor left town soon after. I suspect that Daniel had something to do with that. He had more connections than the governor.” Ace tamped down the fury rising in his chest. “And the document that Brenna signed giving the child up for adoption?” She took a deep breath. “Daniel told her it was part of the paperwork for the death certificate. Brenna was sedated and grieving. She didn’t even read it.” Doris shoved her plate toward the middle of the table. “I’m not hungry,” she mumbled, pushed her chair back. Ace watched her shuffle out of the kitchen like a ninety-year-old woman. Ace continued eating his breakfast while the conversation he’d just shared with Brenna’s mother banged around in his head. He’d pretty much figured out what had happened the night his daughter was born. Hearing the truth from Doris gave it life. Brenna had never once suspected her parents’ treachery. Regardless of his feelings about Daniel, he worried about Brenna’s reaction when she learned the truth. She’d lost her brother, and now she’d lose whatever love and respect she had for her parents. Not to mention how she’d feel about him. Pushing away from the table, Ace picked up the plates and carried them to the sink. He opened the refrigerator to put away the milk and stared at the contents. The fridge held enough food to feed an army. Seemed like everyone in town had dropped off something—casseroles, pies and desserts. Two cooked turkeys, plus a ham and a pork roast.

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He eyed the chocolate cream pie, his and Brenna’s favorite. One more thing they had in common. Someone needed to package and freeze the food before it spoiled. Unless Brenna tackled the job today, he’d do it tonight. Memories of being hungry in his childhood always sat in the back of his mind. He picked up the last piece of bacon and took a bite, savoring its salty taste while his gaze skimmed the kitchen. Not exactly homey, but functional. No magnets or pictures on the refrigerator door like in his own kitchen. The thought of magnets triggered an urgent need to talk to Kayden. It’d been too long. He glanced at the clock. She’d be eating breakfast with her grandmother now. He pulled out his cell and hit the speed dial. On the third ring, panic welled in his chest. Where were they? The he heard his daughter’s musical voice. “Daddy?” His muscles relaxed and he smiled. “Hi, sweetheart. How’d you know it was me?” “Caller I.D., silly.” Ace closed his eyes and imagined her standing near the table, hand on her hip, a huge smile on her face. “How’s school going?” “Can’t wait to get out. Am I going to spend the summer in Canada with Nuuhkum?” He already knew the answer, but asked anyway. “Do you want to?” Ace heard tears in her voice. “Only if you’re coming, too.” “I have to work, but I think I can manage a few weeks off.” Like a fast moving thunderstorm, Kayden’s sadness disappeared. “Okay. Gotta run. The bus is outside. Wanna talk to Nuuhkum?” “No. Tell her I’ll call later. I love you, Kayden.” “Love you, too. Here’s Nuuhkum. She wants to talk to you.” Damn. Now he’d get the third degree. He waited patiently, listening to his mother give Kayden everyday instructions to behave at school. At last she came on the line. “Ace?” www.samhainpublishing.com

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“Hello, Mom. How’s everything going? Any problems?” “I should be asking you that question.” His mother had openly voiced her disapproval about returning to Spruce Harbor. When numerous arguments hadn’t swayed him, she’d given up. “Investigation’s going slow,” he answered and gained a grunt from the other end. “Kayden doing okay?” “Misses you.” His mother’s tone held a hint of reprimand. “My job takes me away from home at times. You know that.” “I know. It’s just that—” “You’re worried I’ll fall under the spell of some evil woman,” he joked, hoping to make light of the situation. “Is that so far-fetched?” Ace laughed. “Not to worry. I love you—” The words no sooner left his mouth when there was a muffled sound from behind. He half turned and saw Brenna standing in the open doorway, eyes wide, her face the color of chalk. “I’ve got to run. I’ll call in a few days.” He flipped the phone shut and rose to face Brenna, waited for her to say something…anything. How long had she been standing there? How much had she heard? He gathered the remaining silverware on the table and carried them to the sink. “Hi. I was just coming outside to find you.” She brushed at her eyes. “Is that right? Sure didn’t sound that way to me.” “That was my mother.” “Who’s Kayden?” The words came out like chips of ice from a soda machine. Damn it. “A little girl.” Brenna’s gasp filled the room. “Your…your child?” “Yes, I—” She raised a hand. “Please.” Tears now pooled in her eyes. “Spare me the details.”

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“I tried to tell you the other night…in the cabin. Remember?” Brenna turned her back. He ached to hold her, but accepted that she wanted distance. Shit. He hadn’t wanted her to find out about Kayden like this. “There’s more that you need to know.” With a violent shake of her head, she whirled to face him, the tears in check. “Is there a wife waiting at home, too?” “No!” he denied, his tone harsher than he’d intended. “Of course not. You don’t think that I…” Her anxiety-widened eyes told him that was exactly what she did think. He reached out to caress her face. Brenna flinched from his fingers. The love of her life had loved another woman enough to bring a child into the world. A daughter. Would her pain be as great if he’d had a son? She reminded herself that twelve years was a long time. It was only natural that Ace had fallen in love. His voice jarred her from her disturbing thoughts. “Hear me out.” “Where’s your daughter’s mother? Is she still in your life?” “That’s what we need to talk about. I—” Doris rushed into the kitchen, tripped over the scatter rug and grabbed a kitchen chair for balance. Her gaze darted frantically between the two of them. “Where’s the fire extinguisher? My cigarette fell in wastebasket…” A smoke alarm blared from the hallway. Brenna rushed to take the red extinguisher off the wall by the refrigerator. “Where? What room?” “Bathroom.” “One of these days, you’re going to burn the house down.” Brenna was relieved at her mother’s interruption. She wasn’t ready to hear about Ace’s daughter and the woman he’d once loved—or still loved for all she knew.

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Ace took the fire extinguisher out of Brenna’s hands and headed toward the bathroom. “I’ll take care of it. Perfect timing, Doris,” he said. Brenna frowned at Ace’s sarcasm and the flush on her mother’s face. “What shall we do with Colin’s clothes?” Whoa! Her mother had jumped off the deep end. She started a fire in the bathroom and now she was worried about her son’s clothes? “Don’t worry. I’ll help. We’ll drop them at a Salvation Army in Bangor.” Ace returned to a tension-filled kitchen to report the fire was out. A huge lump in Brenna’s throat made it difficult to breathe. She caved in to her urgent need to escape the bad vibrations. “Excuse me, I’ve got work in the barn.” Ace followed her to the door. “We haven’t finished our conversation.” She gripped the doorknob and looked back at him. The lines in his face were more pronounced than usual. Only Ace could see into her soul, and right now she didn’t want to let him in. She tore her gaze from his and glanced at her mother. Her face was as white as the unlit cigarette she held between her fingers. God only knew what problem plagued her. “Later, Ace. I’ve no time now.” She slipped out the door, closing it firmly behind her. Her foot no sooner stepped off the porch step when the tears came. The intense pain in her chest took her breath away. One major hurdle after another. How could life be so unfair? Brenna tried to rationalize the latest hurt. Of course Ace had moved on. It wasn’t his fault that she hadn’t. She ended up in the barn with no memory of actually walking there. She stumbled to an empty horse stall and sank to her knees on the fresh straw. With no one around to witness her grief, she gave her emotions free rein and cried. Gut wrenching sobs. The longer she cried, the sadder she became. A warm hand settled on her shoulder. She squelched the desire to turn her face and kiss his skin. Ace. Oh God. She didn’t want him to see her like this. She reached back, covered the hand cupping her shoulder and squeezed. When he dropped to his knees beside her, she twisted 108

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toward him and went into his arms. She raised her lips to capture the warmth of his mouth and her heart stopped. “Trent! What are you doing?” “Colin wouldn’t want you grieving like this,” Trent murmured against her hair. Brenna squirmed to escape. In the struggle they toppled onto the straw. “Let me comfort you. God, Brenna, do you know how often I’ve dreamed about holding you?” Brenna put her hands on his chest and pushed. “Trent,” she croaked. “I thought you were…I didn’t realize…” How could she tactfully tell this kind man that she’d thought he’d been someone else? Before she could explain further, his mouth swooped down and caught her open lips. For a few seconds Brenna relaxed. Until his tongue poked between her lips. She shoved him away. Trent reached out to grasp her arm. “Tell me there won’t be another wedding. That you’re through with Anson, and we can go back to the way we were before this madness started?” She narrowed her eyes and stared at Trent’s hand gripping her arm. He released her with a mumbled apology. Brenna tried to see beyond his words. Somewhere along the way he’d fallen in love with her. Why couldn’t he be content with the friendship they’d shared over the past year? Why did he want more than she was willing to give? He’d always been carefree and happy when they’d gone out. Never once had he tried to take the relationship that extra step. Until now. “Why do you care what I do? Whatever happens, you and I will always remain good friends.” He caressed her cheek. “I want more than friendship.” “Since when? I told you from the beginning that I wasn’t looking for a relationship. Friends only. You’ve known that all along.” “But just now. The kiss—” “Was a mistake.” She rose and brushed the straw off her clothes.

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“Good morning.” Brenna froze at the chill in Ace’s voice. “Hope I’m not interrupting.” The mask of fury on Ace’s face clearly said otherwise. He nodded curtly at Trent then turned his attention to Brenna. “I meant to ask you about Julienne at breakfast this morning.” Her hurt softened at the mention of the little girl. “I spoke with the Department of Human Services last night. They agreed to see me tomorrow.” Ace pulled a piece of straw from her hair. “So you’re going through with your plans to adopt her?” Brenna knew him too well. The innocent look in his eyes didn’t fly. “Adopt?” Trent asked, a frown knitting his brow. “That’s not a good idea, Brenna. Taking in foster children rarely works.” She wanted to scream at the way Ace’s lips twitched. She stood her ground. “Julienne had a family until a few days ago.” “Not a decent one,” Trent argued. “She lived with thieves and drug addicts. God only knows what bad habits she picked up.” Brenna prayed for patience. “Julienne’s only three. Hardly old enough to steal your wallet to buy drugs.” Trent turned away muttering something she didn’t catch. He faced Ace. “Maybe you can talk some sense into her.” Ace’s eyebrows shot up. “Me?” he asked in mock horror. “Brenna and I go way back. She packs a mean left hook. I wouldn’t attempt to try to change her mind about something she’s dead set on doing.” Brenna fumed at Ace’s ploy to separate her and Trent. A devious streak reared up and encouraged her to cozy up to Trent, just to show Ace that she owed him no allegiance. No, she chided herself. No man was worth reverting back to high school behavior. “That’s true, Trent,” she offered. “So don’t bother trying to change my mind.”

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Ace obviously tired of the game. “Bad weather’s on the way, Brenna. Forecast calls for snow by late tomorrow morning. Call and cancel the appointment. We’ll go the day after.” Brenna tightened her lips and bit back a nasty response. She’d learned to choose her battles wisely. Now was not the time to argue. She ignored him and faced Trent. “I’ll go get Maggie. She’s in the paddock. “That’s why Trent stopped by,” Brenna said, walking by Ace. “To look at one of the horses.” Once Brenna disappeared from sight, Trent said, “I guess you’re staying at the farm because of what happened on the Desperado?” “That’s one reason.” Ace grabbed a pitchfork and fluffed the straw to prepare the mare’s stall. “As I said earlier, Brenna and I go way back.” “Yeah, I’ve heard the stories about your ill-fated love affair. Brenna was only a child back then.” “A child by whose definition?” Ace challenged. “Yours? Society’s? The kind people of Spruce Harbor?” Ace dug the fork deep into a bale of straw. Trent’s question irked him. He and Brenna had been young, but as far as he was concerned, the love they’d shared was the long-lasting variety. Not puppy love like Trent had implied. “I’m in love with her myself.” Ace stilled and controlled his breathing. “Is that a fact? Then you’re in for a broken heart. Brenna and I belong together. We always have.” A beet red color spread over Trent’s face. “We’ve been seeing each other for over a year. Up until she got some fool notion to marry Anson Carter. I know the man was forcing her, but she wouldn’t admit it.” Before Ace could respond, Brenna returned, leading the mare. “She needs her teeth checked, probably floated, and a worming.” “I’ll see you later, sweetheart.” Ace pretended not to see Brenna’s irritation. On the walk to the house, he dragged out his cell and punched in Byron’s number.

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“Give me everything you can find on a Trent Peirce. He’s a veterinarian here in Washington County. Where did he go to school? Any ties with people from Spruce Harbor before he settled here? You know the drill.” Ace hung up before Byron could recite his usual complaints.

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Chapter Twelve “That’s it for today.” The girls groaned as they dismounted. Brenna pushed aside a twinge of guilt watching the fourteen-year-olds count out their money, much of it in quarters and dimes. Katy and Melissa saved most of their allowance money to pay for dressage lessons every other week. For some reason, taking money from the young girls bothered her. She assuaged her conscience by giving longer lessons. She hadn’t found an opportunity to talk to Ace since the incident in the barn with Trent that morning. Once the girls were on their way, she planned to hunt him down. He had no reason to behave the way he did. Didn’t he realize she loved him? Still, no way would she be manipulated, by him or anyone else. “Thanks, Brenna,” Katy, the more outspoken of the two, bubbled. “I don’t know what I’d do if you ever stop giving lessons. My mother says perhaps I can get a horse next year.” Brenna laughed at the girl’s enthusiasm. “Super. As long as you supply the feed and come every day to groom it, you can use one of the stalls here.” Katy’s blue eyes grew wide. “Really?” She danced around in a circle before grabbing Melissa, the quiet one, in a bear hug. “Hear that, Lissa? I can’t wait to tell Mom. Let’s go.” “Whoa, girls! Forget something? Like the part of our deal that you groom the horses?” Katy slapped a hand on her forehead. “Sorry. I got so damn…I mean darn excited, I forgot.”

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“Well I didn’t,” Melissa piped up, already gathering her equipment. “Must be your lucky day, ladies. Hope you appreciate Brenna’s offer.” Goose bumps prickled over her arms. Ace had entered the barn through the back door. After giving him a quick glance, she hung the bridles on a hook, grabbed a wet sponge and a bar of saddle soap. “I’ll say!” Katy chirped, her eyes sparkling. She pushed out her chest and rearranged the hem of her denim jacket, never taking her eyes off Ace. “I’ll do your chores,” Ace offered. “That way you can get home and tell your mom the good news.” Both girls stared at Ace, their eyes wide. Brenna could only imagine the thoughts flitting through their fourteen-year-old minds. Not only was Ace a hunk, his Cree heritage put him in another league than the male idols they normally ogled. Melissa hid behind Katy, her face almost the same color as her red hair. Katy, fourteen going on twenty-something, tossed her blonde curls, her lips curving into a coy smile. “I don’t think we’ve met.” “You’re right.” Ace stepped closer. “Name’s Ace Bear.” Katy eagerly grasped the hand he held forward. “You work for Brenna?” she asked, her face now a rosy pink. “Nope.” After a tug of war, he managed to get his hand back. “I’m her boyfriend.” “Oh.” Katy’s gaze shifted to Brenna. “That was fast. I mean only a short while ago you were going to marry…” Melissa gave her friend a push. “Katy, we have to go.” She tugged Katy’s arm and cast Brenna an apologetic smile. “Oh, all right.” Katy’s mouth turned down in disappointment. Brenna hid a smile. Melissa would get a piece of Katy’s mind on their way home. Katy adjusted her jacket one last time and winked at Ace. “Hope to see you around.”

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They hopped on their bikes and pedaled down the dirt driveway. “Out of the mouths of babes,” she murmured. It was nice to see the lack of bigotry, though. Perhaps this new generation would put it all to rest. “She’s a babe all right, but not in the way you mean,” Ace said. “A regular Lolita. Did you see the way she looked at me?” “Like she wanted you for supper?” Brenna bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing at the horror on his face. “Well, you could have handled the situation with a little more diplomacy.” She rubbed the leather bridles with a bit more force than necessary. “In an hour, the news that we’re an item will be all over town.” He moved behind her, his warm breath tickling her bare neck. “So? Worried it’ll get back to Trent Peirce?” She stepped to the side, out of his reach. “You offered to do their chores, Ace. The horses are in the last two stalls.” “Yes ma’am.” Ace grinned. “Right away.” “Wait. About Trent.” Ace’s eyebrows rose a fraction. “What about him?” “Your behavior this morning was childish and unnecessary.” He picked up the curry brush and walked toward the stall. “You think it’s fair to lead him on?” “I haven’t done that,” she denied. Hadn’t that same thought crossed her mind more than once? “That’s not Trent’s take on the situation. He says you two have been seeing each other going on a year now.” Brenna stayed silent. Guilty as charged. “Well?” Ace prompted. “True or false?” It killed her to admit it. “It’s not a trick question. A simple yes or no will do.” “We’ve been seeing each other, but there’s never been talk of getting serious. Trent’s a friend, nothing more.” Ace curried the mare’s withers and winked at her over the horse’s back. “Might be kinder in the long run to let him know that. Poor guy’s www.samhainpublishing.com

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running around with his tongue hanging out, thinking he’s got a chance with you now that Anson’s out of the picture.” She had no defense, so she remained silent. “Have you arranged to have someone pull your lobster traps?” She huffed out a breath, relieved to be done discussing Trent. “Yeah. Handy Norton talked to me at Colin’s funeral. He’ll pull the traps and drop them off.” Ace skillfully groomed the horse. He was no stranger to the equine world. “Plan on buying another boat?” “Are you serious?” She searched his face and found no humor there. “I’ll sell the traps. I’m through with the lobstering business.” “Why? I thought you liked being on the water. The mortgage is paid. Take out a loan for another boat. Use the farm as collateral.” She shook her head. She’d already watched her father take that route. “Lobstering’s too unstable. Regulations and laws change all the time and very seldom in the lobsterman’s favor. I won’t risk the farm like my father did. I have to find another way to make a living.” “Hard to do with the scarce employment opportunities around here.” “Scarce? Try damn near nonexistent. That’s why I wonder…” No sense bellyaching to Ace about what she might have done different for Colin. “Ever think about relocating?” “Now and then. Never get beyond the thinking part. This is my home. Besides, where would I go?” Ace finished grooming both horses. He topped off their water pails and walked to the empty stall near Brenna and lowered his body onto a bale of straw. Brenna drew a huge amount of air into her lungs as if extra oxygen would make her sound more credible. She’d been building up courage to tell Ace she wanted to be involved with his investigation. She wouldn’t rest until Colin’s murderer was apprehended. “I need to talk to you.”

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“Sure. I’ve been waiting for you to say the word.” He patted the straw next to him. “Come sit.” Brenna plunked her butt on the other side of the bale and struggled with how to best broach the subject. She wanted, no needed, to be actively involved in finding the criminals running around in Spruce Harbor. Before she asked the question, Ace took the wind out of her sails. “I should have told you about Kayden when I first arrived.” Brenna stiffened. “What?” Shit. Ace thought she wanted to talk about his daughter. “No. That’s not what I want to talk about.” His brow puckered in confusion. “This is important, Brenna. I don’t want it hanging over our heads. What I have to tell you affects both of our futures.” She lifted a leg onto the bale of straw, tucked it under her hips and squared her body to face him. “I know it’s important to clear the air and not have any secrets between us.” Ace reached for her hand. “It’s more important than you know.” She curled her fingers around his and raised his hand to her cheek. Despite her initial pain of hearing he had a child, her heart was plenty big enough to love Ace’s little girl. It wasn’t like he’d cheated on her. They’d been apart for twelve years. If she’d met someone to love, it could very well be her with a child. “Before we tackle your daughter, I need to find the person who killed Colin.” His lips tightened. Ace shifted into his stubborn gear. Oh yeah, she knew the signs. “Colin’s responsible for his own death. He chose to commit suicide.” She refused to take offense at his words, despite the harshness of his tone. “You’re right. But someone pushed him to that point. That’s the person I want. The one who shoved him over the edge. The one guilty of bringing drugs to Spruce Harbor. Just like you want to find who’s responsible for selling drugs, I do, too.” “Trust me. I’ll find them.”

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“I want to help. I insist on it.” “Damn it, Brenna.” He rose and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “Do you know what you’re asking? Someone’s trying to kill you. And now you want to run around town? With me? Word’s out that I’m a drug agent. No better way to make yourself an excellent target for whoever’s out to get you.” Ace muttered something else, but she couldn’t make out his words. “What?” He dropped to one knee in front of her and held both her hands. “We’ve been given a second chance. Can’t you see that? I don’t want to lose you again.” The dark intensity in his eyes seduced and pleaded. Scooting over to the edge of the bale, she curled her arms around his neck and kissed the skin just under his ear. Warmth started below her belly button and spread to all her limbs. He shuddered when her tongue touched his earlobe. “We’ll not lose each other. Not ever again. When we run into problems, we’ll work them out. No more running.” He drew away, held her shoulders. “Is that a promise? No more running? Regardless of how bad things get?” She pushed aside a tingle of apprehension. What had him so tense? Was he afraid that something would go wrong? “I’m not going anywhere, Ace, I promise. Together we’ll solve any problems that get in our way. We’re partners, remember? Twin souls.” He rested his forehead against hers. “I remember. Finding you again seems too good to be true. I’m afraid to think about the future. You pulled away after Colin died.” Brenna wrapped her legs around his waist, loving his body’s solid warmth. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll never hurt you.” Ace’s lips curved into a smile against her neck. “I know that. Not intentionally, anyway.” “Not ever.”

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Hunger for him burned hot between her legs. Hands stroking her back slid around her ribcage. He laid his hand over her pounding heart. “For me?” “Who else?” “I love you,” he whispered, his lips inches above hers. Brenna took his mouth in a not-so-tender kiss. Her lips, tongue and teeth showed him how much she loved him. She kissed her way across his face and nibbled his neck. “I want you.” “Here?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “Yes.” Twenty fingers fumbled with buttons and zippers in their haste to undress. Even the scratchy straw on her back increased her need to have him. She opened her arms and legs. He lay on his side, propped on an elbow and tenderly trailed a finger down the curve of her cheek and neck to her breasts. “You’re beautiful. I used to lie in bed at night and try to imagine how you’d changed over the years. You’re more beautiful than in my mind’s eye.” She shrugged aside the waves of sadness lapping at her heart. So much wasted time. Years they could have been together, raised a family. I know what we’ve promised each other. But will life let us be happy for the rest of our lives? Brenna sucked back the questions dancing on her tongue. She’d settle for today. His head dipped to capture a nipple, flicked it to a turgid point, then drew it into his hot mouth. Tension built at the apex of her legs. Her need for him was too new, too fresh. Perhaps in time she’d have more control. She cupped his face and pulled his mouth away from her breast. “No more. We’re both ready.” His dark eyes twinkled. “That’s one of the things I love about you. Direct and to the point.” Brenna pushed herself up, swung her leg over Ace’s hip and forced him onto his back. “Today, it’s my turn to ride.”

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“You go, cowgirl.” His voice, husky with passion, sent a thrill straight to her toes. He threaded his fingers through her hair, pulling her mouth to his. She drank in his taste, his smell. Squirmed with pleasure. Without breaking contact, Ace rolled, putting her underneath and slipped inside. “No fair,” she gasped. “You had your chance. You blew it.” Brenna raised her knees and pushed her hips upward. “Then finish the job.” Hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs rolling her nipples. “Not yet. Let’s play a while longer.” Brenna glanced down at his dark hands curved around her white breasts. In the past they’d joked about the different colors of their skin. She wrapped her legs around his waist. One sharp breath, and he plunged deep. He threw his head back, the cords in his neck bulging. “Ace,” she breathed. “God, you feel so damn good. I love you inside of me.” Grasping her legs behind her knees he lifted them over his shoulders. Powerless to speak or move, Brenna moaned her pleasure. He thrust in, pulled out and thrust again, each time harder and deeper. The climax, when it came, took her by surprise. There’d been no slow build up. She simply exploded. Her muscles clenched around his erection. He pumped twice and came. She basked in contentment, loving the way his hardness pulsated inside her. A long time later, he withdrew and gently lowered her legs and rolled to his side. Brenna groaned with disappointment when he slipped out of her warmth. He buried his face in her neck and lightly kissed the moist skin. “Are you okay?” Brenna hugged him tight. “Need you ask?” “Yeah, I guess I do.” 120

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“Sex was never a problem between us.” He remained quiet for so long, Brenna drew away and searched his face. He leaned over and brushed his lips over her mouth. “I love you.” “I love you, too,” she whispered. “No matter what?” Before she could answer, a harsh voice echoed in the barn, breaking up their intimacy. “Colin’s barely cold and here the two of you are, behaving like a couple of barn cats.” Ace groped on the floor for his shirt and covered Brenna, keeping his gaze steady on Doris who stood there, one hand on her hip, the other holding a burning cigarette. “What do you want?” “There’s a social worker on the phone for Brenna.” “Take a message,” Ace barked. Brenna stirred beside him and sat up, clutching his shirt to her chest. “Tell her I’ll call back in ten minutes. No smoking in the barn. It’s too dangerous.” Doris’s eyes narrowed, giving her a crafty look. “Whatever. Perhaps I should tell her what you’re up to. That’ll put an end to this nonsense about adopting a misfit child.” Brenna stiffened beside him. He put a restraining hand on her hip and gently squeezed. Before Brenna could respond, Doris turned on her heel and stormed out of the barn, leaving a cloud of cigarette smoke in her wake. “Your mother has a point, Brenna. Hear me out,” he said, when she opened her mouth to protest. “We’ve just found each other again. There are plenty of hurdles we need to cross.” Like the fact that your own daughter is alive and has been with me all along. “Perhaps the timing is wrong to adopt a child.” Brenna slid off the straw and jerked on her clothes with no regard for the pieces of straw stuck to her body. Ace reached over and brushed some off her back.

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She moved out of his reach and looked over her shoulder, the blue of her eyes cold enough to make ice. “So, because it’s inconvenient, I should let Julienne get lost in the system?” Ace winced at her sarcasm. “No, that’s not what I meant.” But wasn’t it? He selfishly wanted Brenna all to himself. He wanted to introduce her to Kayden and have the perfect family with the happily ever after ending. The life they should have been enjoying for the past twelve years. “Sorry to disappoint you.” She buttoned her blouse. “I’ve known Julienne since her parents blew into town. She’s a vulnerable, precious little girl, and I’d be a good mother. See you up at the house.” Brenna walked away. He rubbed the back of his neck to ease the tightening knots. He’d handled that well. Was he capable of loving Julienne and welcoming her into his home and heart? He smiled. She was a cute little thing, with those big blue eyes and button nose. He remembered her cuddled in Brenna’s arms, her thumb stuck in her mouth. A chill ran over his skin. She kept repeating “white lady”. Did her three-year-old mind hold the secret that could crack this case? He bolted off the bale of straw. She may have seen the person or persons who gave the heroin to her parents. Probably wouldn’t stand up in court, but would give him a good lead as to where to start looking. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to meet with the social worker. He fumbled into his clothes and ran out of the barn still buttoning his shirt.

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Chapter Thirteen The dismal gray sky began to spit snow when Brenna pulled into the Department of Human Resources building’s parking lot. The red digital clock on the dash assured her she was early. The trip had taken a little over two hours. The department should open in about thirty minutes. During the drive, she’d listened to the weather forecasters rattle on about the pending storm, confirming what Ace had told her yesterday. A nor’easter churned offshore and would slam into the coast later today. Old Blue had four-wheel-drive, so the snow didn’t concern her. She’d be back on the road before the storm intensified. She turned off the ignition, leaned back and closed her eyes. Despite being exhausted from making love with Ace most of the night, the little sleep she’d managed had been filled with recurring nightmares of being chased across the barrens by a madman. No matter how far or fast she ran, a faceless man shadowed her footsteps. She’d woken to Ace’s soothing voice assuring her that it was just a dream. The comfort she found in his arms scared her almost as much as the nightmare. Simply breathing his scent had calmed her nerves. Hadn’t she learned early in life not to lean on anyone? She’d forgotten her own rule once with Ace. She didn’t dare make that mistake again. He had her love, but she’d never lean on him or expect him to solve her problems. On top of her sleepless night, worries about the upcoming interview gnawed at her stomach. That and the lack of food made her jittery as a moose who’d accidentally wandered into downtown traffic. She had to convince the social worker that she was able to provide a good home for Julienne. If they’d checked her finances, she was sunk. If? That was www.samhainpublishing.com

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probably the first thing they’d done. Not to mention the fact that her brother had just hung himself in jail. Her eyes popped open at the sound of a car pulling up beside her truck. Dark tinted windows made it impossible to see the driver. Why park next to her when the entire parking lot was available? She watched. Waited to see who got out. The engine continued to run. A shiver of unease crawled over her skin. For a long moment she sat motionless, undecided whether to move to a spot closer to the building. Before she reached a decision, the driver revved the engine and pealed out, leaving black tire marks on the pavement. What the hell? Kids out looking for trouble? Impossible. Kids in this area couldn’t afford a new car like that. Not unless the parents had money to throw away, which seemed highly unlikely. Drug dealers could afford a car like that. For the first time since she’d left Spruce Harbor this morning, she wondered at the wisdom of not heeding Ace’s advice. She tuned out the negative thoughts. Today was about Julienne. She’d had no choice but to come. Melanie Vance, the social worker, had called early this morning to change Brenna’s afternoon appointment because of the approaching storm. The next available appointment wasn’t until sometime late next week. Ms. Vance had said that after seeing the news reports about the Shays’ deaths on television, several other families had expressed interest in adopting Julienne. Brenna reached across the seat and locked the passenger door, then the driver’s side. She buttoned her jacket and hunkered down in the seat to wait until the department’s doors opened. Ace would be furious when he got back and discovered she’d left. She’d called his cell, but got his voice mail. She’d left a message and also left him a note, hoping he’d understand that she’d had no choice but to keep the appointment.

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Two minutes before opening time, a gray Toyota Corolla pulled in and parked in a space next to the brick building. Where she should have parked Old Blue, instead of coming to the back of the parking lot. A plump woman, bundled like Nanook of the North, got out of the car, leaned in and reappeared with a briefcase. This had to be Melanie. Well, it’s now or never. Straightening her shoulders, she opened the door and jumped out of the truck. The moment her feet touched the ground, she slid on a glaze of ice and landed in an undignified heap on the pavement. She’d been so preoccupied with her thoughts and fears, she’d failed to notice the snow had turned to freezing rain. She struggled to her feet and looked behind the front seat to make sure she had a can of De-Icer and a decent scraper. Driving on snow she could handle, freezing rain was a different scenario. Especially if the temperature dropped. Then the skies would dump snow on top of an already iced-over road. Not even a four-wheel-drive truck could handle that type of condition. Icy rain stung her face as she made the short trip across the parking lot. It took all her concentration to stay upright. Once inside, she took a seat and checked out the surroundings. The old, tattered furniture instilled a sense of depression. Nothing cheery here. The couch, covered with numerous stains, sagged in the middle. Torn fabric hung off one of chair cushions. One lonely, tilted picture of a woman holding a sleeping infant graced the far wall. Not superb artwork, yet the image reminded Brenna of her own loss. The pain of losing her child had lessened over the years. At times, the overwhelming need to cuddle a baby would pop out of nowhere. Grocery stores were exceptionally bad places. She’d learned to shop either early in the morning or late in the evening to avoid seeing mothers with their children. The woman who’d had arrived a few minutes ago opened a door to the right and walked towards her, a welcoming smile on her face. “You must be Brenna McKenzie. I’m surprised you traveled in this weather. I

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expected to find a message on my voice mail, canceling your appointment.” Brenna shook the hand Melanie offered. “Julienne is too important to let the weather interfere.” Melanie adjusted the glasses that had slipped down on her nose. The welcoming smile morphed to one of pity. At least it seemed that way. “Yes, well, let’s go in my office and get this over with so you can get on the road before the driving becomes treacherous.” Brenna’s heart sank. A decision had been made, and it wasn’t in her favor. Ace slid out of his SUV and scanned the Gar mansion. Hard to believe someone had this kind of money in Spruce Harbor. The old sea captain’s house perched on a cliff with a panoramic view of the Atlantic. The meticulous grounds were landscaped with various fruit trees and shrubberies. Two large perennial gardens had been cleaned and mulched for the winter. For John Gar to live here with his wife and two children, the rug importation business must be booming. Although the Gar family always had a bundle of money. Perhaps he lived off his inheritance. Byron should have that information soon. Perhaps he’d been able to dig up some dirt on the family. Ace glanced at his watch. He’d hated to leave Brenna this morning. Had wanted to wake her up, but she’d been sleeping so soundly. After her bad dreams during the night, he’d decided it best to let her sleep. He’d be back at the farm in plenty of time to leave for Bangor to make the two o’clock appointment. That is unless Human Services called to cancel. Although the snow hadn’t started yet, the gray sky threatened to let loose its fury at any moment. The angry surf crashed on the rocks below, determined to destroy anything in its path. Not a good day to be out on the water. He followed the flagstone path to the front door and pressed the doorbell. Almost immediately, the door opened, and he stood face to face 126

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with a woman in her mid-forties. Short, dark curls framed a pretty face. She smiled, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. Her teeth were perfect, whiter than chalk. Ace figured the beautiful smile must have cost her some bucks. “May I help you?” she asked in a friendly tone. “Mrs. Gar? My name’s Ace Bear. Is your husband home?” Perfectly shaped eyebrows rose, widening her brown eyes. The smile slipped from her face. “Are you here on business? Are you buying a rug from John?” “I’m not buying or selling anything, Mrs. Gar.” He reached into his pocket and showed her his identification. Her face paled, and she took a few steps back into the foyer. “I don’t understand. Why would a drug enforcement agent want to talk to my husband?” “Is he here?” “No.” Ace noticed the slight hesitation. “He’s away on business.” “Out of the country?” She nodded. Ace’s gaze dropped to her hands, nervously twisting the hem of the suit jacket she wore. Pissed that he’d missed his one chance for a surprise visit, he asked, “When will he be back?” “Why? What’s the matter? I have a right to know why you want to interrogate him.” Ace reined in his frustration. “I don’t want to interrogate him, only ask a few questions.” “He’s due back on Thursday.” Two more days. “What time on Thursday? “His company jet lands in Bangor at nine in the morning. So he should be home by noon.” “I’ll come by then. You have a nice day, ma’am.” Ace turned to leave, surprised when the woman grabbed his arm. “Please, Mr. Bear. Can’t you tell me what’s wrong? Is John in trouble?” www.samhainpublishing.com

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She released his arm when he turned to face her. “Why would you think that?” “Well, I don’t,” she started, her face no longer pale, but flushed. “I can’t understand why you want to talk to him.” “Has your husband mentioned the heroin problem in the area? Are you aware of how serious it’s become?” “It’s in all the papers. Of course we’re aware of the problem.” She bristled. “You aren’t implying that John has anything to do with drugs?” “I’m talking to everyone in town, Mrs. Gar. Trying to get to the bottom of the problem. I spoke with Mrs. Pinkham just the other day,” he added, hoping to put the woman at ease. “Ethel Pinkham?” she squeaked. “What did she say? She better not have implicated John in anything. She’s a viper. You can’t believe a word that comes out of her mouth.” Mrs. Pinkham, a viper? He bit back a chuckle and wondered if the story about Florrie’s love child had anything to do with Mrs. Gar’s feelings. “Sometimes, it’s a good idea to let go of things that happened in the past.” The woman’s voice dropped so low, he leaned forward to catch her words. “Sometimes it’s impossible.” “Do you know where Florrie’s son is now?” Grace straightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She slammed the door. He jumped back and went ass over elbow. He got up and brushed off his jeans. Grace Gar was lying through her ten thousand dollar teeth. No doubt about it. There were bad feelings between the Gars and Ethel Pinkham. Why would some indiscretion that happened over forty years ago still be such a sore spot? Ace checked out the grounds as he followed the path to where he’d parked his SUV. Grace Gar got jumpy at the mention of Ethel. This was one puzzle he intended to solve.

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He inserted the key in the door lock and looked up at the sound of a car engine. A gray BMW tore out of the Gar’s driveway and, without stopping to check traffic, banged a right and headed toward town. Grace Gar drove as if the devil were on her tail. Ace slid into the seat, started the engine and sped down the road in pursuit. Once her car came into sight, he eased off the gas. He ignored the ringing of his cell phone. Voice mail would pick up. He was far too curious what urgent matter required Grace to charge out of the house minutes after his visit. The Gars hadn’t attended Colin’s funeral, but he hadn’t expected them to. The two families had little in common. He imagined the Gars associated with the rich summer residents. The ones who owned fancy homes along the coast. Still, they lived in Spruce Harbor year round, so they must have some local friends. He’d ask Luther next time he paid the old man a visit. The fine snow that had started to fall turned to a freezing mist. The roads were slick. He hoped that Grace was a good driver. The speed she traveled would make any car uncontrollable in these conditions. As soon as he discovered what the woman ahead of him was up to, he’d call Brenna and suggest for the second time that she cancel the appointment today. If she insisted on going, he’d take her. Julienne had become the one bright light in Brenna’s future. He wouldn’t take that away from her. The time had come to force her to sit down and talk about Kayden. Would she be happy when she discovered Kayden was her daughter? Or would she turn on him? Hate him for keeping silent all these years? The thought of Brenna despising him made his heart beat faster, matching the rhythm of the wipers slapping against the windshield. Their second chance at happiness started in murky waters. The truth needed to be put on the table before it was too late to set it straight. The BMW slowed and pulled off onto the shoulder. Immediately, Grace opened the car door and got out. Ace mentally measured the

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distance and braked to be moving by as Grace maneuvered her way through the rose bushes to Ethel Pinkham’s door. He’d seen Ethel’s car at the town hall earlier that morning. He inched along and in his rearview mirror watched Grace climb back in her car, make a U turn and head back the way she’d come. Interesting. Why hadn’t Grace called to make sure Ethel would be home. Unless she had called and went to the house because no one was home. Ace pulled into the driveway and fought the thorns on his way to the front door. He had a mind to call a landscaper to cut the damn rose bushes. Once on the porch, he spied an envelope wedged between the screen door and the door frame. He rang the bell. Thirty seconds later he rang it again. He fingered the envelope, debated whether or not to open it. It was thin. Couldn’t contain more than a single piece of paper. Why would Grace Gar be writing to Ethel Pinkham? Perhaps old skeletons were beginning to rattle, trying to escape the closet. Could a nice old lady like Ethel be blackmailing the Gars? Surely the Gars would have more sense than to succumb to extortion. Times had changed. Today no one would give a rat’s ass if Ethel’s daughter’s love child had been sired by a Gar. And not even in his wildest fantasies could he imagine Ethel in the role of a blackmailer. Grace had done a horseshit job of sealing the envelope. One half of the flap was loose. He took his jackknife out of his pocket and slid it under the flap. Piece of cake. Removing the expensive-looking blue folded notepaper, he read the two terse lines sprawled across the page in a flowery handwriting. I’m warning you for the last time. Leave my family alone. Interesting. Looked to him like his old school teacher was up to no good. He slipped the note back in the envelope, wet his finger and ran it over the glue to seal the envelope. Then he slipped it back in the door. He pulled out his phone on his way down the stairs and noticed he had a voice message. First, he got Byron on the phone. “Any luck tracing down Florrie Pinkham’s kid?”

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“She had a son. The adoption was private and very hushed. There are no records at the hospital as to where the child was placed. Florrie was discharged. Went home to her aunt’s house without a baby and died in a car crash less than two years later.” Ace filed away his disappointment. “Any chance of finding a lead? A retired nurse who might remember something?” “I’m checking. Want my opinion? Someone with a shitload of money covered the trail.” “Keep in touch,” Ace said and disconnected the call and went into his voice mail. He tightened his grip on the slim phone, listening to Brenna’s message. The thought of her out on the roads alone got his heart pounding. Why hadn’t she cancelled the appointment? ‘ She must be on her way home by now. Should he wait for her at the farm? An insistent voice warned him to go find her. Was it just paranoia rearing its ugly head? Or intuition? He couldn’t shake his fear that something was wrong. He’d never relax at the farm. He might as well go look for her. Then at least he could follow her home. The freezing drizzle had stopped and snow fell at a steady clip. Before he reached Route Nine he’d seen two plow trucks and sanders. Traffic was almost nonexistent. An irrational fear hung over his head. Brenna should have been back by now. Where the hell was she?

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Chapter Fourteen Brenna glanced in her rearview mirror and saw flashing blue lights. Her gaze dropped to the speedometer. She was driving well under the speed limit. No one in their right mind would drive too fast on these icy roads. Especially down the hill approaching Dead Man’s Curve. Every few hundred feet there was a sign warning truckers of the steep grade ahead. She couldn’t pull over. The shoulders were white from the recent heavy, wet snow. If she hit the slush, she’d lose control of the truck. Fear settled in her chest, making it hard to swallow. She should never have attempted the return trip in this weather. Why hadn’t she spent the night in Bangor? Why hadn’t she listened to Ace and cancelled the appointment? The cop tailgated her—so close that the blue lights flashed on the road in front of her. She took a deep breath. Something was wrong. She reached across to the passenger seat for her purse, fumbled inside for the cell phone she seldom used and prayed there’d be reception. She couldn’t remember the location of the nearest tower. The truck lurched forward, knocking her purse to the floor. Before she could comprehend what had happened, she felt another hard bang. Blue lights continued to flash. Some maniac driving a police car wanted to run her off the road. Brenna bit her bottom lip then forced herself to take several calming breaths. Think, damn it. She could pull off the road as best she could, hope she didn’t slide down the embankment and lock herself in the vehicle. The thought of being in a locked car on a deserted Route Nine in a snowstorm scared her as much as the maniac bumping her from behind.

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She was a fast runner. Should she stop, get out and make a run for it? One look at the steep banking in her headlights quashed that idea. Whoever was after her might have a gun and shoot before she ever made it to the woods. That left one option. She took one last steadying breath and gripped the wheel at ten and two and pressed on the gas pedal. The old truck surged ahead. For a terrifying moment, she lost control. The back-end fishtailed before the truck righted itself and flew down the side of Porcupine Mountain thirty miles per hour too fast for the road conditions. A peek in her sideview mirror assured her that the cruiser had eased back. A dangerous curve lay ahead. A mile-long curve. One that no one liked even in dry conditions. White crosses dotted the terrain on both sides of the road as a testament to that fact. Dead Man’s Curve. Oh God! She had to slow down. She tapped the brake—knew instantly that something was wrong. Even so, she pushed harder. Her foot went straight to the floor. The truck had no brakes! A hot sweat broke out on her scalp. Her hands trembled on the wheel. Her foot hit the emergency brake pedal. Mush. The instinct to survive kicked in. She threw in the clutch and downshifted from fourth to third gear. A gear lower than that would send the truck into a spin at the speed she traveled. Third gear slowed her, but not enough. She braced herself to crash as the curve grew tighter. There was no other choice. She curved her hand over the gearshift, yanked it into second and prayed. Old Blue’s engine screamed in protest, and a burning smell filtered into the cab. She accepted her fate. She’d lost control of the situation. The truck did a complete three-hundred-sixty degree turn on the pavement and careened down the embankment. The sound of crunching metal deafened her as Old Blue rolled over, coming to rest on the passenger side. Stunned, Brenna sat and listened to the buzzing in her ears. The strong smell of gasoline prompted her to move. Unbuckling her seat belt, she reached to open the door. She had to kick it twice before it opened. She used the steering wheel for leverage www.samhainpublishing.com

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and pulled herself out into the cold air. The drop to the snow-covered ground jarred her bruised body. At least nothing seemed broken. Leaning forward, she rested trembling hands on her thighs. For several seconds she gulped air and listened to her heart beat out a frantic rhythm. Perhaps it palpitated with joy at being alive. A luminous beam weaved right to left and back again, making its way across the terrain. Searching for her? She dropped to the ground, rolled away from the truck toward the woods, and groaned when her back connected with the trunk of a spruce tree. The bright light continued its side-to-side arc. Friend or foe? She hadn’t heard another vehicle stop. She shielded her eyes from the blinding light and scrambled to her knees to face the person who wanted her dead. The circle of light lowered to the ground as it moved closer. Brenna rose. If she could make it to the woods, she knew she could outrun whoever held the flashlight. She pivoted. Her legs refused to budge. Muscular arms encircled her from behind and dragged her close to a warm human body. She twisted and kicked back with her feet. She screamed once then plunged down a dark hole. Ace caught Brenna before she hit the ground and cradled her in the crook of his arm as he knelt in snow. Other than a trickle of blood from a small cut on her forehead, she didn’t appear injured. The tremble in his fingers made it difficult to find a pulse in her neck. Rising above his fear, he willed his heart rate to slow. Yes! There it was. A little fast, but strong and steady. He fished out his cell. No signal. Freaking great. He had to get her to a hospital. The nearest one was a small community facility in Ellsworth. If need be, they could transport her to Bangor from there. Slipping his free arm behind her knees, he started to rise. Brenna’s eyes opened. The hair on his arms bristled in response to the terror mirrored there. Didn’t she recognize him? She fought like a wild animal caught in a trap. He barely managed to hold onto her. “Brenna! What the hell are you doing? It’s me. Stop it.”

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She stilled, her breathing heavy. “Ace?” Dread trickled through his bloodstream. “Brenna,” he said and hated the urgency he heard in his voice. “Can you see me?” Jesus, please don’t let her be blind. “Of course, I see you.” Relief flooded him, making him feel giddy. “What happened? Did you hit a patch of ice and lose control? I was on my way to Bangor to find you. I noticed a car had swerved off the road. I didn’t know it was you until I stopped and saw your blue truck.” Her gaze locked on his face. “Someone ran me off the road.” With great care he set her on the ground, keeping his arm around her for support. “Are you sure? Was it an accident? Did the car behind lose control?” Ace shined the flashlight around the area, searching for another vehicle off the road. “It was no accident. Whoever failed in their attempt on the Desperado is determined to succeed. Who wants to kill me?” “I don’t know. But we’ll figure it out.” She pulled out of his arms and turned away, but not before he saw the obstinate tilt of her chin. “I didn’t have a choice. I tried to call you. To ask you to come with me.” He sighed. “I know. We’ll sort it all out later. Right now I’m taking you to Ellsworth so a doctor can check you out.” “No! I’m fine. Really,” she said and smiled as if to prove her point. “I want to go home.” “Brenna, I think—” “I can always go to the hospital tomorrow—if I feel worse.” “Come on,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Can you manage the hike up to the road?” She took two steps then stopped to look back at her truck. Her voice quivered. “Poor Blue.” Ace shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re still driving that truck. It belonged in the junkyard twelve years ago.” www.samhainpublishing.com

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She sighed. “Maybe you’re right. The brakes went without warning.” Ace tensed, his senses on high alert. “The brakes failed?” At her nod, his gaze once more skimmed the area. He strode to the overturned truck. The smell of brake fluid mingled with the scent of gasoline. Holy shit! He searched the undercarriage with the beam his flashlight until he found what he was looking for. A small puncture in the brakeline. Small enough that the fluid would leak slowly. Whoever had been behind Brenna hadn’t planned to run her off the road. Their intent had been to get her to accelerate so she’d lose control of the truck and her death would look like an accident. “Someone must have stolen a police cruiser,” she said as they climbed out of the ditch. “Police cruiser? You’ve lost me.” “The car behind me had flashing blue lights. A cop wouldn’t run someone off the road. So someone must have stolen a cruiser.” They reached the SUV. Ace clasped her shoulders, holding her still until she looked at him. “Could you tell for sure if the car was a white sheriff’s car or a blue state police cruiser?” Her forehead puckered. “Well, no. Just that it was a dark color.” He opened the passenger door and helped her in. “Anyone can buy blue flashing lights. It’ll be easy enough to check out. I’ll call the State Police barracks as soon as I can get phone reception. They can account for all their cars in the area.” Before he climbed in, a car could be heard coming from the direction of Bangor. Leary after what Brenna had told him, Ace jumped in, turned on the ignition and pulled as far off the road as possible. He killed the lights. A dark blue sedan rounded the curve and slowed. The instant the car’s headlights hit Ace’s truck, it sped up and disappeared. There was no license plate. He itched to give chase, but after what happened to Brenna, he realized the idea was foolish. She needed to get home. “That could have been the car,” Brenna said.

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Ace frowned. “You sure?” “While I was waiting for DHS to open this morning, a car like that, with tinted windows, pulled up next to me. Revved the engine and left.” “You feeling okay?” he asked and caressed her cheek. “Tired.” “Have some coffee. There’s a thermos on the seat beside you.” He started the engine and pulled off the shoulder. She sipped coffee for several minutes and began to sound more like her old self. “Great coffee. You make it?” “Dunkin Donuts.” “Ace? Let’s stay at the cabin tonight.” “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable at home where you can take a nice hot bath?” “I just want to be alone with you. Away from my mother. Away from phones. It’s so quiet and peaceful there.” Ace’s tense muscles relaxed when the SUV reached the end of Deadman’s Curve. In the lower elevation, the salt and sand made the road less dangerous. He chanced a glance at Brenna. “How did it go with the social worker? Did you see Julienne?” “No, she’s been placed in a foster home. The meeting didn’t go well.” “Why? What did they say?” Her hands held onto her coffee mug like it was a lifeline. She stared straight ahead. “I don’t meet the state’s criteria to be an adoptive parent. He’d been afraid of that. “It’s not the end of the world.” “Not to you. You’ve got a child.” Her voice hitched. “I so wanted to be Julienne’s mother. She’s the sweetest little girl.” “I take it no family has been found?” “Roger’s and Shawna’s parents aren’t interested in raising her. The state’s considering three applicants. They prefer to place her in a two parent home.”

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“Is that the only reason they refused? You and I could give Julienne that.” Her hand curled around his bicep. “You’d do that for me?” The joy in her voice made Ace feel like the hero he wasn’t. “I behaved like a jerk that day in the barn. She’s a sweetheart. It would be easy to love her.” “Thank you for that. Unfortunately, that’s not the only reason they wouldn’t consider me.” “Colin’s death?” “Yeah. That and the fact my boat was blown out of the water.” Her lips curved into a smile. “Don’t understand why, but they seem to think I lead too dangerous of a life to take care of a small child.” He chuckled as he switched on the wipers. Fat snowflakes now splattered on the windshield. “We’ll go back and talk to them in a few days. Nothing happens overnight with the State.” For the next few miles, Ace concentrated on his driving. The snow came fast and furious, mesmerizing him as the flakes hurtled toward his headlights. A plow came at them from the opposite direction. “Quite a storm for November.” Brenna laughed. “You’ve been away too long. We usually get one or two bad ones before December. Probably won’t stay. Might melt tomorrow. Doesn’t it snow in Maryland?” “A few inches here and there. They’d fold up the streets and close down the town for this kind of storm. Plows are rinky-dink compared to these huge monsters.” “But you like it there?” Did he? He shrugged, uncertain how to answer her question. “It’s okay. I spend as much free time as I can in Canada.” “That’s right. I’d forgotten.” Twenty minutes outside Spruce Harbor, Ace’s cell rang. “Yes?” His grip tightened. He glanced over at Brenna. Her eyes were closed. “Thanks for calling. I’ll handle things on this end.”

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He flipped the phone shut and tossed it on the seat beside him. “Bad news?” Ace wondered how to tell her. How much more tragedy could one woman handle? “I’m afraid so.” She straightened in the seat, straining against the seat belt when she turned to face him. “Why? What’s wrong?” “That was the State Police dispatcher. It’s your mother.” “What happened?” Brenna’s eyes grew huge in her white face. Ace took a breath. “She called nine-one-one. Said she couldn’t breathe. An ambulance is on the way to the farm.”

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Chapter Fifteen “Did she have a heart attack? What hospital are they taking her to? We could drive directly there.” Brenna shook her head to stop the ringing in her ears. “I don’t have details. We’ll be there soon. Probably not much behind the ambulance.” She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, trying to shut out the horrors of the past few days. She had not a soul to call. Colin and her father rested in the cemetery overlooking the bay. Would her mother be joining them? Ace accelerated. The SUV swerved on the slippery road. “We’re almost there. Try not to think the worst.” “If we get there,” she muttered. “Slow down. Once in the ditch is enough excitement for the day.” Ace eased up on the gas pedal. Her brain finally caught up to her racing pulse. Tragedy was no stranger in her life. The first visit had been the death of her child. Then her father. A few days ago, Colin. Now her mother? How much more pain could she bear? Brenna was afraid she’d reached the end of her tether. If not for Ace, she wasn’t sure she could go on. Unlike tragedy, selfpity was totally unfamiliar. Yet she’d fallen into a black pit and didn’t have the strength to climb out. Warmth seeped into her cold hands. She opened her eyes to see Ace’s larger hand covering both of hers. She squeezed his fingers. “Thank you. You’re so good to me.” He snatched his hand away. “Don’t make me into something I’m not.”

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At the harshness in his voice, Brenna sat forward, wincing when the seatbelt dug into her. The hand that had gently touched her moments ago now strangled the steering wheel. “What’s wrong? What did I say to make you so angry?” A muscle jerked in his face. He kept his eyes on the road. “I’m not angry. Sorry I snapped. Just don’t make me out to be some kind of Sir Galahad.” Brenna relaxed. “Nobody’s perfect, Ace. Not all heroes come dressed in a suit of armor.” She caressed his arm. “I don’t think I could go through this by myself.” He glanced at her, the coldness in his eyes melting into the kindness she’d come to expect. “You’ll never be alone again. That’s a promise.” “I know.” She strained against the seatbelt. “Damn things. Remember when we used to drive around the barrens in Old Blue, and I would snuggle next to you?” A chuckle rumbled from his chest. “I drove with one hand, my arm around you, and you shifted the gears.” Brenna smiled. “Seems like lifetime ago.” “It was. In spite of the fond memories, it’s a time best not revisited.” She sighed. “I suppose you’re right, although I’ve spent a good portion of the past twelve years doing just that. The good memories kept me sane.” She sensed his immediate withdrawal. He abruptly changed the subject. “Did your mother have a bad heart?” Okay. He didn’t want to talk about the past. She could accept that. “She’s a chain smoker and drinks on a daily basis, so I’d say that makes her an excellent candidate.” “But she’s never been diagnosed with heart disease?” “No. Not that I’m aware of. Then again, my father went out of his way to live a healthy life and look what good it did him.” Ace took his gaze off the road for a moment. “Daniel didn’t have a history of heart problems?”

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Brenna shook her head. “No way. He constantly harped at my mother to start living a healthy life. We were all shocked when he died so suddenly.” Brenna squinted and saw the green sign ahead for Cutler Road. Ace maneuvered the SUV into the turn. “It won’t be long now. Good thing the plow’s been by. We’d have a problem getting up this hill.” They slowly crested the rise. Around the next bend she’d be able to see the farm. Brenna tightened her grip on the sides of the leather seat. What would they find there? Had her mother simply had too much to drink, then panicked and called for help? Or had she suffered a heart attack? Or fallen down the stairs? As far as Brenna knew, her mother never had regular check-ups. Like so many others in rural areas without health insurance, tragedy had to strike before they ever saw a doctor. “I’m here for you. No matter what.” “I know.” The SUV rounded the curve and swerved on the icy road. Brenna strained for a glimpse of the farm through the swirling snow. Blue and red lights flashed eerily in the driveway. Ace maneuvered around the fire engine and pulled in front of the barn to avoid blocking the ambulance. Brenna jumped out of the SUV before he shut off the ignition. The door opened the moment she reached the porch. Two paramedics came down the steps carrying a stretcher between them. “Is she going to be all right?” “We weren’t in time, ma’am.” Brenna’s knees buckled. Ace caught her before she fell. He held her upright while they watched the men slide the stretcher into the ambulance. When it drove away, the lights no longer flashed. She didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing until Ace cupped the back of her neck. “Deep breaths.” At the sound of his voice she drew a ragged breath. “Come on,” he said softly somewhere near her ear. “Let’s get out of the storm.”

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The kitchen looked the same. The uneven tiled floor slanted down towards the kitchen sink the way it always had. Dirty cups and glasses cluttered the counter. Her mother had never been one to wash dishes. One mug sat precariously near the edge, ready to fall if someone brushed against it. The familiar rhythmic dripping of the water faucet assured Brenna that she was home. Yet, she wondered if she’d be able to live here now that her entire family was gone. Her mother, father and brother dead—all within a six-month period. How could this have happened? Two state troopers spoke to each other in low voices near the refrigerator. Another man stood at the table, writing on a pad of paper. A piece of half-eaten chocolate cream pie sat on the table. Numbness spread through her limbs, as if her entire body had been given a shot of Novocain. Ace slid out a chair and gently pushed on her shoulders until she sat down. The domino effect—one tragedy after another. The reverend always said God never gave a person more pain than they could bear. He must think she had strong shoulders because He sure was throwing a lot of it in her direction. “Want a cup of coffee?” Ace asked. “I think there’s some left from this morning.” “I’ve had enough coffee, thanks.” The middle-aged man taking notes pulled out a chair and sat beside her. “Ms. MacKenzie?” Brenna nodded and focused her attention on his round, somber face. The pity in his gaze brought tears to her eyes. He waved a hand at the plate on the table. “Do you know where this pie came from?” “What?” Her mother was dead and this guy was asking about a piece of pie? “Someone dropped it off after Colin’s funeral.” “Do you know who?” he persisted. “No. My mother dealt with all the food that arrived.” She frowned. “Why?”

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“I’m sorry. I should have introduced myself. Hyman Wuerch. I’m a medical examiner in Washington County. I happen to live less than ten miles from here. Sgt. Penny called me and requested my presence.” Brenna ignored his outstretched hand. “Did my mother have a heart attack?” The chair squeaked loudly in the silence when the man leaned forward. He folded his hands on top his notebook and cleared his throat. “I won’t know anything definite until an autopsy is performed, but there’s a possibility your mother was poisoned.” “Poisoned?” Brenna whispered, her gaze flying to the half-eaten piece of pie. Mr. Wuerch nodded. “My guess would be cyanide.” Ace gagged. Jesus. He’d considered having a piece of that pie yesterday and almost ate a piece for breakfast this morning. “Chocolate cream pie is my favorite,” Brenna said to no one in particular. She glanced at Ace. “Remember? You and I both love it. When we were in Machias, we always stopped at the Downeast Diner for a piece.” He nodded, his mind racing with possibilities. Was the pie intended for Brenna? For him? Whoever made the pie had no way of knowing who would eat a piece. He shuddered with the implication. Did someone want all three them out of the way? Or was it just Brenna and the murderer didn’t care about collateral damage? The medical examiner’s voice dragged him back to the conversation. “As I said, we won’t know for certain until the autopsy.” “Why do you suspect cyanide?” Ace asked. “When the paramedics arrived, Mrs. McKenzie’s skin had turned blue—a sure sign of lack of oxygen. The clincher for me is that she’d vomited, and the smell of bitter almonds was very strong. That’s what prompted Sgt. Penny to call me in. Of course, the pie, as well as all other food in the refrigerator, will be tested.”

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Ace moved behind Brenna and rested his hands on her shoulders. Pushing away from table, she rose. “I’ve got to go feed the horses and bed them down for the night. And Sheba?” She looked frantically around the kitchen. “Has anyone seen my dog?” Ace didn’t like the wildness in Brenna’s eyes. “Wait and I’ll go with you. You shouldn’t be alone.” One of the state troopers spoke. “Mr. Bear is right, ma’am.” Brenna’s gaze moved from one person to another like a cornered rabbit. Ace knew she needed to get outside. Needed to be around something solid and comforting. “Would you mind going out with her?” he asked the trooper who’d spoken. “I’d like to speak with Mr. Wuerch.” The man shrugged. “Sure. I like horses. Haven’t been around them for years.” Brenna turned and walked out the door without another word or even so much as an acknowledgement to anyone. Ace recognized the state trooper pulling food out of the refrigerator as Sgt. Bob Penny. A big, burly man, he’d been helpful the day Ace had paid a visit to the barracks to introduce himself and let the authorities know he was in the area. Sgt. Penny had been more than willing to keep him in the loop. The medical examiner, who’d gone outside, returned with an armful of boxes. Sgt. Penny spoke to Ace. “This case is turning ugly. Veterans on the force can’t remember anything coming near the likes of it. You’d best watch your ass, Bear, or you might be the next one carted off in a body bag.” Thank you, Sgt. Penny, for the reminder. “Anything happening on the street? Drug overdoses? Drug arrests?” Penny looked over his shoulder as he removed one of the turkeys haphazardly covered with Saran wrap. “All’s been quiet since the Shay deaths. Could be the word got around about the pure heroin. Of course the meth clinics are still overflowing with those supposedly trying to kick

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the habits. Ask me and I’d say one drug is just as good as another to an addict.” Ace grabbed a cup and started to pour a cup of coffee, changed his mind and settled for a glass of water from the faucet. No sense tempting fate. “Where would a person get hold of cyanide?” “You kidding me? You can buy just about anything on the Internet— if you know where to look. I’m not saying it’s easy, but certainly not impossible.” Finished with his task, the trooper peeled off his gloves and washed his hands, pulling a paper towel off the roll to his right. “Guess that about wraps it up.” He laughed at his own joke. “We’ll be in touch. You staying here with Ms. McKenzie?” “I plan on it.” “Good. Don’t think she should be alone until this matter’s put to rest.” He tossed the paper towel in the wastebasket. “How’s your investigation going?” Ace grimaced. “Horseshit, if you want the truth.” Penny laughed. “Too many suspects?” “Just near the whole damn town.” “That’s the way with these small coastal villages. Everyone’s got a secret. If one secret comes out, you can bet your ass a bunch more will follow. One thing to remember. These people may seem eager to cut each other’s throats, but when push comes to shove, they stick together. So be careful.” “Tell me about it. You from around here?” Penny picked up a box, and Wuerch took the other. “Me? Hell, no. I’m from a county further up north. Think it’s bad here? You oughta try investigating crime in that neck of the woods. When the truth comes out, you end up with at least three or four more crimes than you started with.” Ace walked out the door behind the men. The snow had stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Stars twinkled through the slightly overcast

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sky. “I’ll head out to the barn and tell your sidekick you’re ready to leave. Keep in touch, Penny. Make sure your unit knows I need to be kept informed. And thanks for calling me about Brenna’s mother.” “You’re number one on our call list, Bear.” “Appreciate it.” Ace nodded and headed towards the door, then pivoted. “Hey, Penny. I’m thinking of getting a court order to exhume Daniel McKenzie. I’m wondering if he might have been poisoned, as well.” With that parting shot, he continued on his way. He entered the barn and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim light cast by the two low watt light bulbs hanging from electrical wires. They swayed in the slight breeze that followed him inside. What a freakin’ fire hazard. Living in Maryland all these years, he’d simply forgotten how povertystricken Spruce Harbor and all the other small towns on the coast were. Most people hung onto their existence with a shoestring. No wonder the fire departments were so damn busy during the winter months. All year, for that matter. Now that Brenna was alone, he’d make damn sure she sold the place and came with him. If she insisted on staying in Maine, he’d sell his farm and move north. But not to this farm and not to Spruce Harbor. They’d find a nice place farther down the coast that had a bit more tolerance. The cop who’d stayed with Brenna approached. He nodded at Ace and asked, “Sgt. Penny leaving?” “Yeah. He’s all packed up.” “I’m on my way.” The young trooper took a few steps and turned back. Speaking in a low tone, he said, “You might want to think about taking Ms. McKenzie to the hospital. Physically, she seems fine, but hasn’t spoken a word since we got out here. Mumbles to herself, though.” Ace looked over to where Brenna patted one of the horse’s necks. She appeared oblivious to the fact he’d arrived. Strands of hair had escaped her braid. She kept tucking them behind her ear. “Thanks. I’ll take care of her.”

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The trooper left, letting in more cold air. Ace made his way to the stall where Brenna crooned softly to her horse. Sheba dogged his heels, whining. He bent and patted the dog’s head. Wrapping his arms around Brenna, he drew her close. “You okay?” “Guess so.” She burrowed her nose into his shirt. “I’m not feeling much of anything, Ace.” She peered up at him. “Why can’t I cry? Why don’t I scream and shout about the injustice? I’m scared because I’m not doing those things.” “Don’t be. I’m here. Lean on me.” Her body trembled under his hands. He kissed her neck, rubbed her back. “Let go, Brenna. Don’t hold your emotions inside. Hey,” he said pulling back and looking into her eyes, “Want to throw something at the wall? I see a bucket of brushes and curry combs over in the corner. You can start with those.” A small laugh bubbled in her throat. Then she started to cry, softly at first. When the huge, gut-wrenching sobs came, Ace held her, whispered assurances in her ear—much like he would have done for Kayden. Several minutes later, the sobs turned to hiccoughs. “Feel better?” She sniffed and tightened her arms around his back. “Done in here?” She nodded. “Let’s go up to the house.” She stiffened and tried to pull out of his arms. “I can’t, Ace. I don’t want to go in there.” “Right. We’ll go to the cabin.” She leaned back and looked up at him. “Thank you.” Even with a red nose, tear drenched eyes and spiked eyelashes, she’d never looked more beautiful. Dropping a quick kiss on her lips, he tightened his arm around her shoulders and led her out of the barn.

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Halfway to the cabin, Brenna broke her long lapse of silence. “When did it stop snowing?” A shadow of a tree limb across the road had alerted her that the moon shone. “An hour or so ago. You had more important matters on your mind than to notice the weather.” As they turned onto the road leading into the barrens, Ace put the SUV into low four-wheel-drive gear. Only about six inches of the white stuff had fallen, so he had no trouble plowing through. He’d hesitated to involve Brenna in his investigation, despite her plea to be involved. Truth was, her input would be invaluable. She knew the people of this town a hell of a lot better than he did. Besides, having to keep her near twenty-four/seven left him no choice. “Let’s go over the facts as we know them.” She perked up in her seat. “Really? You want to talk to me about what’s happened?” He bit back a smile. He’d said the one thing to snap her out of her depression. “I do. Did you know that Ethel Pinkham’s daughter had a child by Woodrow Gar?” “You’re kidding, right? I didn’t even know she had a daughter.” “Well, she did. Daughter’s name was Florrie, who gave birth to a boy. Evidently he was adopted, but no one knows where he is today.” “And you’re thinking he might be in Spruce Harbor?” “I’m considering the possibility.” “Even if he were, why would you suspect he had anything to do with dealing heroin?” “I’m not saying he does. I’m looking at all angles, all leads. Someone with money is behind this ring. The Gars are the only ones in town with money to burn. Luther’s the one who spilled the beans about Ethel’s daughter. Know anyone else who might have more information?” “Myrtle Peasley,” Brenna said without hesitation. “She knows everything about everyone in this town.” She laughed. “I bet she knows more about most people’s lives than they know themselves.”

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“Then she’ll be first on the list to visit tomorrow. What about John and Grace Gar? Know why they returned to Spruce Harbor?” “Not really. We don’t travel in the same circles. I don’t think John is ever home. He owns an Oriental rug business, and the word is he’s always overseas buying new inventory. Grace keeps to herself. They’ve got two kids who go to private school, so they’re never home. I’m not sure they even come to Spruce Harbor on their school vacations. Least I’ve never seen them.” Brenna tapped her fingers on her thigh. “I can’t see the Gars involved in this. They certainly don’t need the money. Why risk going to prison?” “I told you I’m looking at anyone I deem suspicious. Who belongs to the hen gossip group your mother called a bridge club?” “Every woman over sixty.” “Ethel and Myrtle?” “Oh yeah. They’re the club president and vice-president.” Ace chewed on what he knew about Ethel Pinkham. Something didn’t jive. Her weird talk about evil running its course given him a chill. And just what was she holding over the Gars? Did she know the identity of John’s half-brother a secret? Or something more sinister? “Ace?” Brenna’s voice cut through his musings. “Did you mean what you said about talking to the Department of Human Services about Julienne?” The quiver in her voice reminded him how much the child meant to her. He imagined even more so now with her most recent loss. “I’ll call first thing in the morning.” “Thank you. I can love your daughter, you know,” she added. He flinched at the sincerity in her voice. “It’s just that Julienne needs someone who cares. Can you find it in your heart to be a part of her life?” “I’m sure I can.” He hoped she didn’t pick up on the hesitancy in his voice. Not because of Julienne. Guilt over not telling Brenna the truth wracked his insides. How could he put the added burden of truth on

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Brenna now? She’d lost her entire family in less than two days. He doubted she handle the shock of hearing the truth about Kayden. “See? You’re my knight in shining armor.” Ace pulled into the alders by the side of the cabin and ignored Brenna’s teasing remark. Some knight he was. One who held the key to put an end to his lover’s pain, and he refused to hand it over.

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Chapter Sixteen “Wait here while I turn on the kerosene lanterns and fire up the stove.” Brenna opened her mouth to argue, then changed her mind. Ace wanted to check out the place. Make sure no one had been here and all was safe. “Okay.” “Lock the doors.” She fidgeted, needing to be doing something—anything. For days, she’d been trying work out why someone would want to kill her. Now she had to consider why someone would want her mother dead, as well. A chocolate cream pie. Her favorite. But whoever made it had to know that anyone in the house could have eaten a piece. Who wanted her dead so bad that they didn’t care who else might die? Smoke spiraled from the chimney. The full moon shone across the barrens with not a cloud in the sky. The storm had been one of those freak fall events that never lived up to the media hype. Dropped enough snow to make life miserable for a few hours before heading for Nova Scotia. Snowmobile engines whined in the distance. Impatient Mainers who refused to wait for a solid base of snow to get out and cruise. Tomorrow, there’d surely be news reports of injuries or death. Someone would hit a rock, or drive across an unfrozen body of water and drown. More senseless deaths, like Colin’s and her mother’s. Brenna wiped a hand across her eyes, brushing away fresh tears that fell in spite of her resolve not to cry and vowed to avenge her brother and mother.

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Ace came around the corner of the cabin with a smile. “All set. Come on in. It’s chilly, but the fire will have the place warm in no time.” Brenna opened the lock and slid out, grasping Ace’s hand. Her lover, her friend. The one person who’d never betray her. A nostalgic feeling of coming home hit her as she stepped inside. No bad memories here. The fire snapped and the tomato soup heating on the gas stove made her mouth water. How many cans of that soup had Ace bought? When was the last time she’d eaten? She couldn’t remember. “Sit down and relax. The soup will be ready soon.” Brenna pulled out a chair and sat on the hard seat. “You have a thing for tomato soup? What’s wrong with chicken noodle or vegetable beef?” “Joe only carries tomato. Sorry.” He placed a small glass filled with an amber colored liquid in front of her. “Here, this will help you relax.” “Ah, my friend Jack,” she murmured. “Thanks, Ace.” “At your service, ma’am,” he said with a mock bow. “Drink it. After that you’ll have some hot soup and sleep like a baby.” Brenna had her doubts about that. She’d need an entire freaking bottle of Jack Daniels. They drank in comfortable silence. The pitch on the firewood continued to snap, long after the fire roared. Ace turned the damper down and the heat filled the small cabin. The fire, along with the whiskey warmed her a bit too much. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She shed her jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. When Ace placed a bowl of soup in front of her, she attacked it like she hadn’t eaten for days. Actually, she wasn’t sure she had. “Hmmm…it’s good,” she managed between spoonfuls. “Have some crackers.” He pushed the package of crackers to her side of the table. She ate every last drop of soup. “That was delicious. Now I’m sleepy.”

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“Good. Go to bed. I’ll clean up.” Too tired to argue, Brenna walked the short distance to the bed and lay on top of the covers, not bothering to undress. Her head spun from the whiskey. She welcomed the drowsiness and drifted off. Brenna jerked awake, her heart pounding. She lay on her stomach for several seconds, listening. The cabin was warm, too warm. Ace’s arm lay across her back. He, too, had left his clothes on. Careful not to wake him, she wiggled her way off the bed. She walked to the window. Clumps of snow dropped off evergreen branches. Since they’d gone to bed, the temperature had risen above freezing. She toyed with the idea of having another shot of Jack Daniels. Her mother’s alcohol problem changed her mind. Steam slowly rose from the teakettle sitting on the woodstove. She removed it. The less heat in here, the better. Other than the familiar creaks of the old structure and a soft moaning wind outside, all was quiet. Panic slowly built in her chest. Fear for her life? Fear of the unknown? Or an unknown fear? She rested her head on the table and took slow deep breaths to calm her racing heart. Rational thought fled. Run, run, run. The words thrummed over and over inside her head. A claustrophobic sensation set her feet in motion. She grabbed her boots from the floor beside the bed. With nothing in her mind but the need to get outdoors, she slipped out of the cabin. With long legged-strides, she ran towards her sanctuary, a place that never failed to give her peace of mind. Ace opened his eyes and concentrated on the silence. Other than noise from the fire, all was quiet. Too quiet. Where was the sound of Brenna’s breathing? He bolted upright, saw he was alone in the bed. “Shit!” He jumped out of bed, not surprised that Brenna wasn’t at the table drinking a cup of tea. Fear warred with anger that she’d taken off in spite of knowing someone was trying to kill her. How the hell had she left the cabin without him hearing her? 154

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He yanked on his hiking boots, grabbed his denim jacket and ran out the door. The temperature had to be near forty. Although damp and raw, the snow had already begun a steady melt. He easily tracked her footprints for several hundred yards. After that it became near impossible. The snow had disappeared in many spots. He knelt on the ground, trying to pick up foot indentations in the blueberry plants. Think, damn it! Where would she have gone? Their secret place. He should have guessed right away. With a quick stride, he moved toward the thicket of evergreens he could barely make out in the distance. He stopped years ago, he’d his height by completely hide

in the moonlight, a few steps into the clearing. Twelve towered over the spruce and hemlock. Now they topped at least eight feet, their branches wide enough to the opening.

Heavy snow brought some of the boughs almost to the ground. Others had shed the cold, white stuff and bounced back to normal. The moss underneath his boots was as cushiony as he remembered. Softer than a feather mattress. He closed his eyes and inhaled the balsam scent swirling though the cool night air. So familiar, yet so different. “I knew you’d find me.” Her voice didn’t startle him. Somehow he’d known this was where she’d run to. Would have been terrified if he’d been wrong. He squinted in the darkness and saw her beneath a low hanging branch. Brenna hugged her knees to her chest, making herself as small as possible. He moved slowly across the moss until he stood in front of her. “This is the last place I want to be,” he whispered. “Too many memories.” “I know.” He barely heard her response. His breath caught at the tears that clogged her throat. “I’m so sorry, Ace. For everything. For what my father did. For dragging you into this mess. First Colin, now my mother. You came back to town to put a stop to a heroin problem. Instead, you get www.samhainpublishing.com

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tangled up with the crazy McKenzie family. As if they hadn’t wronged you enough in the past.” He sank to his knees beside her. “Hey. You didn’t need to run out here. Why didn’t you wake me up? We could have talked. I’m here for you.” “I didn’t want to wake you. You needed your rest.” “And you don’t?” He chuckled. “I’m embarrassed that you walked out the door without me hearing you. Doesn’t say much for my survival skills.” “I’m most sorry that you never knew what happened to your daughter. God, when I think about you living all these years thinking I’d given her away. How you must have hated me. Then to hear she’d died.” A cold fist squeezed his heart when she insisted on dragging up old hurts. Bile rose in his throat. He was afraid he’d lose her when he confessed. “Brenna, there’s something I need to tell—” She turned and wrapped her arms around him, tumbling them both to the ground. “Don’t say anything. I know the emptiness you must feel. I’ve been there…still go there too often.” He stiffened in her arms and sat up, breaking her hold. “No. You don’t know.” She recovered quickly from the anger in his voice. “Everyone grieves in their own way. I understand.” She rose to her knees and trailed her lips over his cheek and nuzzled her face into his neck. The heat radiating from her body warmed his chilled skin. “We can comfort each other,” she whispered. The time had arrived to come clean. First, I’ll love her one more time. He’d imprint this moment in his memory to drag out in the future if she didn’t forgive him. “Let me show you how much I love you. For a short while let’s forget the past.” Tears trickled down her cheeks. “Yes.” He brushed away her tears. “Sweetheart, I never could stand to see you cry.” He tugged her between his legs, nestled her close. For long

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moments he held her, enjoying the steady beat of her heart against his chest. He breathed in her clean scent to store in his memories forever. She pressed closer, sliding her hands inside his shirt. She urged him backwards until he lay on the damp moss, then straddled his hips. His eyes never left her face. He didn’t give into the temptation to glance down when he heard her unzip her jeans. She stood and kicked off her boots, then stepped out of the denim. Off came the panties. Brenna lowered his zipper and tugged his jeans down his legs. “Such busy hands,” he murmured. She smiled. “They’ll get a lot busier.” She sank on his thighs, until his erection pushed against her stomach. With hands soft as a feather she caressed him. He couldn’t swallow a groan of pleasure. “Let’s go back to the cabin where it’s warm. We’ll catch cold here.” Brenna threw back her head and laughed. He loved the carefree look on her face, as if all was once again right with the world. “We’re hot enough to melt the snow. I want you here, now—in our own special place.” Leaning forward, she licked his lips. Ace cradled her face and captured her lips with his mouth to stop her teasing tongue. He wanted to kiss her forever, to prolong their coming together. Wanted to forget what he had to do once they lay spent and replete. He flipped her onto the ground and rolled on top. “Hey!” she squeaked. “If you insist on making love on the cold moss, then I’ll be the one in the saddle.” Her giggle turned to a sharp gasp when he thrust into her moist warmth. “Oh, God, Ace. You feel so good. I’ve missed you so much. You are a part of me. Now and always.” “No more talking,” he muttered. Tongues dueled for several minutes before he withdrew from the warmth of her cocoon and rose to his knees. Grasping her hips he pulled her toward him, until his bone hard erection found her greedy opening.

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Through half-closed eyes, he watched her head thrash from side to side. Silky black hair against the patches of white snow brought to mind an erotic black and white photograph. Her hands dug into the moss. He ran his hands up her body, cupped her breasts and thumbed her puckered nipples. Filed all of it away in his memory bank. “Ace, please,” she sobbed but not with tears this time. Her vaginal muscles tightened. He felt her heightened tension…knew she’d climbed to the point of no return. He picked up the pace of his thrusts and exploded on the heels of her climax. Exhausted, he collapsed on her belly. Sex was the one thing that hadn’t changed over the years. It had been good back then, and it was even better now. He slid down and swirled his tongue in her navel. She squirmed beneath him. “Get dressed,” he rasped. “The next time will be on a bed in a warm cabin.” If there is a next time. Deep in his soul he feared he’d just had Brenna for the last time. He got to his feet, reached down and helped her rise. They dressed in silence and walked out of evergreen stand hand in hand. Her long silence got him worried. “Want to talk about it?” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “What? I’m just tired.” He stopped and forced her to face him. “Hey. It’s me you’re talking to. Don’t think you can hide anything.” Unlike me who’s doing a great job of hiding the most important thing in the world from you. “I’m thinking about Julienne. You were going to contact DHS tomorrow. Maybe it’s best to let things stand as they are. Realistically, there’s no way DHS will consider me suitable to adopt her, even if you’re part of the equation. And to be honest, I don’t blame them. Besides, I have to arrange my mother’s funeral.” “And?” he prompted, sensing there was more. “I’m going to rise above this tragedy, Ace. And I won’t rest until we find the guilty party.”

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He wrapped his arms around her shivering body and kissed the top of her head. “I know you will, sweetheart. I’ve never doubted it. “Thank you.” Other than a couple of owls hooting in the distance, the night remained still. The kind of quiet that made some people uneasy. Ace had always been thankful that he and Brenna found peace and comfort in the night noises. “Do you own a house in Maryland?” Fear rumbled in his chest. Until he ‘fessed up, talking about his life could be dangerous territory. “A small farm, actually.” She stopped walking and faced him. “Really? What kind of farm? Do you raise vegetables? Where is it?” “A horse farm…in Damascus. I run a small thoroughbred breeding operation. Picked up a proven stud a few years back. Now he just stands around in the pasture waiting for the mares to start arriving. He’s got it made.” Brenna laughed and punched his arm. “Men.” She reclaimed his hand and continued walking. “You don’t own any mares?” “Nope. Thought about it a few times, but I’m called away from home too often.” “Who…” She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “Who takes care of your…Kayden when you’re away?” “My mother.” “She lives with you?” “Yes.” If Brenna found his short one-word answers suspicious, she didn’t let on. Regardless of what she’d said earlier, Ace sensed she hadn’t quite digested the fact he had a daughter. He blocked the thoughts. “You always got on well with my mother.” She squeezed his hand. “I like Naomi. She was always more of a mother to me than my own.” He stopped and pulled her close. “Look.” He pointed. “Over there.” www.samhainpublishing.com

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A snowy owl sat atop a big boulder, waiting for an unsuspecting rodent. “They’re early this year,” Brenna said. “It’s going to be a bad winter.” “Every winter’s bad here, if you want my opinion.” “Turned into a southerner, have you?” After a few minutes they moved on. They had almost reached the cabin when Brenna sighed. “I’d like to stay here forever. Make this cabin our home.” “Nice fantasy.” “It’s just that I dread going back to the farm.” “I know. Remember, though. The horses and Sheba are there.” “Sheba! I forgot all about her.” “Not to worry. I left plenty of food and water in the barn. She’ll be fine until tomorrow.” “Seems like I’m always saying thank you.” “About tomorrow. You can’t arrange a funeral until the preliminary autopsy report is complete. I’d like you to come with me while I talk to the locals.” She scuffed her toe in the snow, dragging her feet the nearer they came to the cabin. “Sure. Don’t know what good it’ll do.” At least it will keep you safe. “There’s something I haven’t mentioned—about Julienne.” Now he had her attention. “What do you mean?” “I think it’s possible she might be able to identify whoever sold the heroin to her parents.” “You’ve got to warn someone.” Brenna opened the cabin door. “Her life could be in danger.” “I know. I’ve got to get in touch with the social worker. They need to be made aware of the situation. She needs to be kept under constant supervision.”

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Brenna kicked off her boots and paced the floor. “This nightmare keeps getting worse. Will it ever end?” “It will.” She knew he hoped to reassure her. “I promise. I’ve been concentrating on new people in town. I may be searching in the wrong place.” She stopped her pacing. “You have a suspect?” “Just a hunch, no concrete facts.” “Who?” “John Gar, for one. Perhaps even his wife, Grace.” Brenna’s mouth dropped open. “The Gars? I told you earlier. They could pave the road through Spruce Harbor with their money. They have no need to sell heroin.” “Ever wonder where they get their money?” Her forehead puckered. “I assumed they inherited the Gar fortune. That and the Oriental rugs John sells. Those go for a ton of money.” “Mighty convenient to slip some heroin into rolled up rugs coming to the States from the Orient.” “Hmm…I suppose. He doesn’t fly commercial. He has a private jet.” “Have you ever talked to either one of them?” “Not really. We don’t run in the same circles. Tell me everything that’s going on. Everyone you suspect.” The chair scraped across the floor as he pushed back from the table, the noise grating on her already frayed nerves. “I’ve been reluctant to tell you this, but if you insist on knowing everything…” “I do. What is it?” “I’m thinking that perhaps your father didn’t die of a heart attack. That he could have been poisoned, like your mother.” She gasped. “Why would you think that? “You told me earlier that he was healthy. Didn’t have any heart problems.”

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“That’s true, but everyone knows that a heart attack can take anyone. Even young people.” Ace lowered himself into the chair. Brenna leaned across the table to within a few inches of his face. “Everything, Ace. I need to know.” He held something back from her. She saw it his expression. The quickness with which he turned away, confirmed her suspicions. “Why would you think my father was murdered?” “A hunch.” Brenna rose. “Why would someone want to kill him?” “How the hell should I know? Perhaps the intended target was you— even back then.” “You don’t believe that any more than I do.” “I don’t know what to believe. The key is to find out why your family would be a threat to anybody. Any ideas?” Brenna shook her head. “My brain’s a blank slate. Sorry.” “Your father’s body could be exhumed.” She pounded the table. “No! Absolutely not.” “If—” “I don’t care. I won’t stand for it. What difference does it make if he were poisoned? You’ll not find any clues to his murderer in his casket.” “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” There it was again. Did he think she wouldn’t notice? She knew all the signs. The tell-tale tic in his cheek. Every now and then she caught him cracking a knuckle. He’d done that at eighteen when he was stressed. Brenna moved to the window and watched the moonlit shadows. One of the snowy owls swooped from the sky, legs first and rose with a mouse dangling from its talons. She’d always found joy in all four seasons. This year the mere thought of Christmas caused her heart to ache. Ace’s arms slid around her from behind. “You’re exhausted. Let’s get some sleep. I said sleep,” he said when she turned in his arms, seeking 162

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his mouth. “As much as the thought of making love the rest of the night makes me hard as a rock, it’s time to think of what’s good for you.”

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Chapter Seventeen The morning sun melted the remaining snow like it was springtime, the thaw creating mud on the roads in November. “I’d forgotten about how fickle the weather could be,” Ace commented from behind the wheel. “I remember road conditions like this in April.” Brenna laughed. “Want me to drive? Driving on mud can be worse than snow.” “Tell me about it.” Ace clenched his jaw and struggled to keep the SUV on the slippery surface. He took his eyes off the road to glance in her direction, the corners of his lips turned up slightly. “And I’m still capable of driving in mud.” Brenna smiled. “Suit yourself. If we end up in the ditch…” She trailed off as the word “ditch” triggered the horrors of last night. That memory brought her mother’s death rushing back. Determined to be strong, she pushed the thoughts aside, folded her hands in her lap and concentrated on making plans for the long days ahead. Right now, the horses needed tending and Sheba would be hungry. The farm was the last place she wanted to be. Once again the entire town would show up to convey their condolences and bring food that no one would dare eat. She shivered. The very thought of food made her stomach roll. Ace and the local authorities had decided to keep their suspicions of the cause of her mother’s death from the public. They wanted to wait for the autopsy results, as well as test any food that showed up at the door in the coming days.

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At the cabin last night, she and Ace had brainstormed until almost dawn, despite his insistence she needed to sleep. To her way of thinking, not one person Ace mentioned, except perhaps Anson, was capable of committing such heinous crimes. To Ace, everyone was suspect. Brenna laughed. Ace glanced at her. “What’s so funny?” “John and Grace Gar dealing drugs. I’m sorry, but it seems so…so ridiculous. Do you know the townsfolk refer to their mansion as the big house on the cliff?” “What about Ethel Pinkham?” Brenna had laughed until the tears ran down her face last night Ace had put his old teacher on the list. This morning she bit her lip and tried to be serious. “Well…besides being in her seventies, the woman seems mighty straight-laced to me. Before you ask, Myrtle Peasley’s only crime is being the town’s biggest busybody. “How about lover boy?” She didn’t even pretend not to know who Ace referred to. “Absolutely impossible. No man who loves animals the way Trent does could harm a human being.” “So you’ve ruled out all my suspects.” “I’ve no opinion on the new families in town. Other than they live in squalid trailers guarded by mean-looking Rottweilers. I suppose they could drug dealers.” Didn’t drugs and ferocious dogs go hand in hand? Or so the media would have a person believe. Her amusement had vanished when Ace told her his thoughts about her own family. He’d actually suggested that her mother could have been part of the drug ring, along with Colin. If that wasn’t bad enough, Ace had been adamant about exhuming her father’s body. She’d set him straight on that. No way would she agree. She jerked to attention when Ace spoke. “Cold?” “What?” “You’re shivering. I can turn up the heat.”

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Brenna tucked her hair behind her ear. “About my father.” Ace tensed. “What about him?” “I meant what I said last night. I don’t want his body disturbed.” At his silence, she asked, “It is my decision…isn’t it?” Her stomach tied itself into a knot when Ace took a long time to answer. “Not necessarily.” “Meaning?” “If the District Attorney is given reason to doubt the original cause of death, and no autopsy was performed, he can petition the court for an exhumation order.” Brenna bit her bottom lip to stop the trembling. “Please, Ace. I’m not sure how much more I can take. I’m barely holding together as it is.” He glanced at her briefly before turning his gaze back to the road. The tic started in his cheek. “I’ll talk to the D.A. and tell him to hold off for a week or so. Maybe it won’t be necessary.” Hope blossomed in spite of her concern that Ace still hid something from her. “You think you’re going to crack the case?” “Crack the case?” Ace laughed. “You watch too much T.V. Fact is, all criminals screw up. It’s just a question of when. That, and having the patience to wait for it to happen. Chris is my eyes on the reservation. So far, all’s been quiet there. I’ve got a feeling the ringleader is laying low.” “We’re talking about more than drugs here, Ace. My mother was more than likely murdered. And for what?” “We don’t know for a fact if everything that’s happened is related. Just because my gut says it is, doesn’t make it so.” Brenna slumped in the seat. “I suppose,” she said as they rounded the curve. Trent’s van was parked in the driveway. She wasn’t up to seeing anyone, least of all, Trent. He and Ace would play their pissing game while she was supposed to sit quietly by and watch. Well, not today. The first one who said something out of line would get a piece of her mind. “I see lover boy didn’t waste any time.”

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Brenna groaned. Of course, Ace would throw her the first curve ball. “If you say one more derogatory word to, or about, Trent, I swear, Ace Bear, I’ll slug you.” “Calm down. Just making a comment. Didn’t mean anything.” Like hell. She buttoned her lip. As soon as Ace braked in the driveway, she was out the door. Trent walked out of the barn, coming toward her with a worried frown. “Brenna, I’m so sorry. I had the scanner on last night and heard that an ambulance had been dispatched to the farm. I called, but no one answered. I assume it’s your mother. How is she?” So the media hadn’t broken the news. Deaths from natural causes didn’t make the news. And the poison theory wasn’t official. She supposed the answering machine was full of messages from the concerned and curious alike, asking what had happened. “Good morning. How nice of you to come by.” Trent lifted a hand and reached forward to touch her. He glanced at Ace and changed his mind. Ace nodded. “Peirce.” Trent ignored him and focused his attention on Brenna. “Is there anything I can do for you? Just say the word.” She straightened her shoulders. “Thanks, but there’s nothing anyone can do. My mother passed away last night.” “God, I’m so sorry. How awful for you. And right after Colin.” “Peirce, do you like chocolate cream pie?” Brenna choked. “Ace! What the hell are you doing?” His brows rose. “Just asking the man a question.” Trent looked puzzled. “Chocolate cream pie? No. I’m allergic to chocolate.” Brenna threw Ace a triumphant look and hooked her arm through Trent’s. “Come inside and have a cup of coffee. I imagine the phone’s been ringing off the hook.”

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Ace followed Trent and Brenna into the kitchen and attempted to put his jealousy where it belonged. In the trash. Christ. Hadn’t last night proved that she loved him? Right, lover boy. Wait until she learns the truth. Tonight. He’d tell her tonight if it killed him. And he’d make her listen. He wouldn’t let her run away even if he had to tie her to a chair. Brenna pressed the button on the answering machine on her way to make coffee. She appeared mesmerized by the messages pouring out of the little black box and jumped when Ace barked, “Stop it right there.” “What?” “Rewind the machine to the beginning of that last message.” Ethel Pinkham’s voice replayed. “Oh, Brenna. I just heard the news. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am about your mother. If there’s something I can do…anything…please don’t hesitate to call me. No one should have to endure the losses you’ve experienced in the past few days. Please let me know what arrangements have been made.” “How did she know your mother died?” Trent asked. “Good question,” Ace said. “I’d like the answer to that one myself.” Brenna laughed, a near hysterical laugh. “It’s obvious you don’t know the ins and outs of a small town, Trent. Have you forgotten the grapevine here, Ace? All it takes is for one person to call the local hospitals. They discover my mother’s not there. Bingo. She must be dead. Or, someone knows someone who knows a nurse. Or someone’s boyfriend’s brother is a paramedic. Get my drift? I can guarantee, if you listen to all the messages, Ethel won’t be the only one who knows my mother is dead.” Unfortunately, Brenna was right. Even the reverend left a message offering his condolences on the passing of Doris McKenzie, saying he’d be in touch about the arrangements. “I’m going to feed the horses and Sheba,” Brenna announced to the silent room. “Already done,” Trent told her. “Thank you. Thoughtful as usual.” “Where’s your truck?”

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“I…er…I had a slight accident.” The vet frowned. “But you’re okay?” “I’m fine, but I can’t say the same for Old Blue. Know anyone selling a truck?” “As a matter of fact—” “Don’t worry about it, Brenna. We’ll find another truck.” No way was Ace going to let Trent worm his way any further into Brenna’s heart. He itched to get out of here and start talking to the locals. Brenna had to go with him. Not only did he want her opinion, truth be told, he didn’t want to leave her with Peirce. The vet might as well write “I love you, Brenna” on his forehead with a magic marker. Trent pulled back his sleeve to look at his watch. “I’ve got to be at the Folger Farm in thirty minutes. Couple of sick cows. Should I stop back when I’m through? I don’t have appointments until three this afternoon.” The man looked like a lovesick cow himself. “Nice of you to offer,” Ace said. “We’re just leaving and won’t be around most of the day.” “Oh. Well, keep in touch, Brenna, and please, don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything.” Brenna walked Trent to the door. “I will. And thanks for caring.” She swung the door shut with more force than necessary and turned a murderous gaze on Ace. He held his hands in the air. “What? I was nice.” “Bullshit,” she muttered. “But never mind. Let’s go. I’m anxious to see how you operate.” He came up behind her and pinched her butt. “Thought you saw that last night.” She punched him in the arm. The sun beating on the windshield warmed the inside of the SUV to an almost uncomfortable level. Ace pulled into the parking area by the small white building that served as Spruce Harbor’s town hall and post www.samhainpublishing.com

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office. The American flag flapped in the breeze and right below it waved a black and white POW-MIA flag. He’d noticed that many of the small towns he’d passed through now flew both flags. He switched off the ignition. “Ready?” Brenna glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Sure you want to do this?” He frowned. “What’s wrong?” She shrugged. “I just feel a little weird about you interrogating an old woman like Myrtle Peasley. And,” she took a deep breath and met his gaze head on, “I’m a little bit afraid.” “Afraid of what?” he asked with a chuckle. “That she’ll jump over the counter and give you a good shaking?” “No, of course not. It’s just that I have to live in this town. And I don’t think you understand. People in Spruce Harbor can say anything about anyone, but they’ll defend their own from an outsider like a mama bear defending her cub.” He trailed the back of his hand down her cheek. “Stop worrying. It’ll be fine.” Or at least he hoped so. Ace breathed a sigh of relief that they were the only ones in the parking lot. He couldn’t very well ask questions with people coming and going. “Let’s get this over with before people start arriving.” “This isn’t a city, you know. Unless it’s the time of year to pay taxes or register vehicles, hardly anyone stops here.” Myrtle slipped her glasses down her nose as they entered the small room. She reached out over the partition to clasp Brenna’s hands. “I’m so sorry about your mother, deah. What happened? Did she fall? Have a heart attack? No one seems ta know the particulars.” “All we know is that she collapsed and died.” “Oh? That makes it more difficult for ya to accept. Have ya made arrangements?” “No. Not yet.” “What can I do ta help?”

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Brenna pulled her hands away and stepped back. “Nothing at the moment. Thanks, Myrtle. I’ll let you know.” “You poor thing.” She stepped forward and ran her bony fingers across Brenna’s cheeks. “So pale.” Myrtle turned to Ace. “You best take good care of this young lady.” “I will. We’d like to ask some questions.” She adjusted her glasses. “Questions? What kind of questions? I’m not pleased with you, young man.” She jabbed Ace in the chest with her pen. “Ya lied ta me, and I don’t take kindly ta people lying.” Ace backed away. “Ma’am?” “Told me ya come back heah ta buy land. Now why’d ya go and say that?” Brenna stepped forward. “Ace was trying to keep a low profile when he first got to town.” The old woman’s eyes narrowed. “What questions ya want ta ask? Not ta say I’ll answer any.” “I’m wondering if you can fill me in on Ethel Pinkham.” Myrtle Peasley laughed at Ace’s question. A bright gleam entered her eyes. “Ethel? Yesah. Guess I could do that. You’re both too young ta know all the dirt on that lady. She was hot ta trot back in her prime. Every man’s tongue dragged on the ground when she strutted down the street dressed like she were headed ta hang out on a city street conah. And she could strut with the best of ‘em.” Ace broke into Myrtle’s monologue. He’d noticed the more wound up she became, the thicker her Maine accent got. “Did she have any friends back then?” “Friends? Plenty of men friends. Rest of us girls didn’t stand a chance. Weren’t a man in Spruce Harbor who escaped her clutches. Not even the high and mighty Jaspah Gar. Thought Jaspah’s father would pop an artery when he found his son carrying on with Ethel. Right after that, Jaspah up and got married.

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“Matter a fact, don’t think Ethel evah got ovah Jaspah’s marriage to that battleaxe his father had shipped in from New York. If ya ask me, Ethel’s damn lucky anyone would marry her after that scandal. Took years before people stopped yapping about her shenanigans. ‘Course her being a schoolteachah helped. Started dressing all prim and propah.” “I don’t understand,” Brenna interceded. “You and my mother and all the other ladies in the social group seemed to like Ethel.” Myrtle tapped her pen on the counter. “Ya live long enough and memories dim. They don’t disappeah, mind ya, just fade a bit.” “I heard that her daughter left town suddenly,” Ace prodded. “Rumor has it she was pregnant.” “Weren’t no surprise when Florrie got herself knocked up. Apple nevah falls far from the tree. Ethel hustled Florrie outta town fastah than a spring melt. Never did heah what happened to the baby. Rumors flew around town about the child’s fathah. “Heard Florrie got killed in a car accident a few years latah. Riding in a cah with a bunch of drunk fools. Probably for the best. That girl never would nevah amounted ta more than a piss hole in the snow. Ethel nevah mentioned her name again. Acted like she’d nevah had a daughtah. “For the past year or so, Ethel’s been keepin’ to herself. ‘Cept for tha weekly ladies’ social. If ya ask me, I’d say she shows up ta those just so she can make sure no one talks about her. Often wondah how she lives so well. Husband musta left her a load of money. No way she could buy a new cah every year and dress so fancy on a teachah’s pension. Yesah. She’s a strange one. Listenin’ to her talk today, person’d nevah guess she was the town pump all those years ago.” Brenna coughed. Ace smiled at her attempt not to laugh. “If you wanta know moah about Ethel, ask old Luthah down at the pier. Yesah. I bet he got his eyes and ears full ovah the years. Heard he panted aftah Ethel for a time himself.” Ace decided to cut to the chase. “Ethel ever say who fathered Florrie’s baby?” 172

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Myrtle’s eyes narrowed. “Just why ya so interested in that history?” “Don’t go coy on me, Myrtle. I’m sure you’ve heard that I’m a drug enforcement agent.” Myrtle patted her hair. He couldn’t comprehend why old women thought that color blue-gray was attractive. “Ah-yuh, heard that. Now I’m wonderin’ if ya think old Ethel is pushing drugs.” She put her head back and laughed. Tears streamed from her faded eyes. “Wouldn’t that beat all?” Brenna cleared her throat. “Look, Myrtle, you can’t go around town spreading stories that Ace suspects Ethel of being involved with drugs. That’s just not the case. He’s suspicious of everyone in town. You’re on the list, too.” White eyebrows rose, widening her eyes. “Me? Now justa goddamn minute—” “Settle down, Myrtle,” Ace said. “Brenna’s just making a point that no one person is being singled out.“ She shuffled some papers. “Half the young men in town sweated for days when news leaked that Florrie was pregnant. Does that answah your question?” “What about Woodrow Gar? Did he sweat, too?” She gave Ace a crafty look. “Ya do know your history. Ah-yuh, he sweat, too. Probably more ‘n the othahs. As I said befoah. The apple don’t fall fah from the tree.” Ace knew when he’d hit a dead end. Perhaps Myrtle knew more than she was willing to spill, but his gut instinct said she didn’t. “Thanks for your time. Appreciate it.” “And what about you, young lady? With all the recent tragedy in your life, it musta been like a breath of fresh air ta find out your daughtah’s alive.”

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Chapter Eighteen The bomb explosion on the Desperado had been quiet in comparison to the silence in the small town office. Ace held his breath. Myrtle’s gaze was glued to his face. If those crafty eyes could speak, the words were crystal clear— “Gotcha!” He forced himself to move. He curled his fingers around Brenna’s arm. “Let’s go. We’re finished here.” She wrenched away with enough force to hit the wall. Her attention stayed focused on the elderly town clerk. “What did you say?” Myrtle gave her hair another pat. A nervous gesture, Ace suspected. “Well, your mother told me just the othah day that—” “That’s enough,” Ace commanded. He toyed with the idea of carrying Brenna outside. He faced it. His time had run out. Brenna knew the truth, and he had no one but himself to blame that she’d heard it from someone else. “Let’s go. I’ll explain everything once we’re on the road.” Giving her no choice, he grabbed her elbow and dragged her out the door. Once outside, she yanked away and stared at him. The white look of horror on her face cut him deep. “What the fuck is going on?” “No need to swear.” He kept his voice calm. He opened her door. “Get in. We’ll go talk—somewhere private. Do you want the entire town to hear our conversation?” Not that Myrtle wasn’t already on the phone spreading the news to anyone willing to listen that Brenna McKenzie’s child was alive, and she hadn’t even known it.

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Puppet like, Brenna climbed into the SUV. Ace hurried to the other side and slid behind the wheel. He started the engine and backed out of the lot, heading away from Spruce Harbor. “Where are you going?” Brenna asked in a voice void of emotion. She fumbled with her seatbelt. She stared straight ahead, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “To the cemetery.” She recoiled against the door as if he’d slapped her. “The cemetery?” she gasped. “Why? Did Myrtle lie? My daughter isn’t alive?” “No, she spoke the truth. Our daughter is alive.” She sucked in air and started to shake. “Please stop. I’m going to be sick.” Ace banged a right onto an old dirt track no wider than a snowmobile path. He braked and stayed behind the wheel, while Brenna retched outside. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel, fighting his need to go to her. Hell, he ached to go to her. Truth was, he didn’t dare. He thought she might run, but realized she needed the knowledge he had, so she’d wait. Brenna’s stomach turned inside out. She tried to think, to rationalize. The ferocious buzzing in her ears prevented coherent thought. Her daughter was alive? How could this be true? On trembling legs, she climbed back into her seat. With a shaky hand, she grabbed the tissue Ace offered. She flinched as his fingers caressed her palm. “Water?” He opened a bottle he’d pulled from the backseat. She took a long drink, grateful for the coolness that soothed her raw throat. She set the bottle in one of the cup holders on the console and took a ragged breath. “Okay. I’m ready. Tell me. I want the whole truth. How is it possible our daughter is alive? Where is she?” “She’s alive. She’s been with me.”

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A new stab of pain tore through her chest. She’d thought nothing could hurt her more than her recent losses. Reconciling with Ace had buffered those blows. Given her hope. Now even that was a lie. “How? I don’t understand. Where is she right now?” “In Maryland. With my mother.” A dark fog slowly filtered through her brain cells and paralyzed her vocal chords. She hated the pleading in Ace’s voice. “I wanted to tell you. I waited for the right time. You’ve had so much pain in the past several days that I—” She turned in her seat, leaned against the door and glared at the man who’d just broken her heart for the second time. The last time. “That you what? Were afraid of hurting me? You thought that finding my daughter has been alive all these years would be a bad thing? Give me a fucking break.” “I was afraid of losing you.” “So many lost years. How did this happen?” Was that weak voice hers? “The night your father came to see me in jail he had the affidavit. Your affidavit, although I didn’t know it was yours at the time. He also had a legal paper signed by you, giving up all your rights to the baby. When he handed me the baby, he told to me get out of Maine and never come back.” A sea of red flooded Brenna’s vision. “You liar! I never signed any such paper! As if I’d give up my flesh and blood.” “I still have it. The signature is yours.” “The only papers I ever signed were the affidavit and the death certifi…” She trailed off as another ugly truth slammed into her. “My father? He’s the one who did this? He had me pumped full of painkillers. I was heartbroken and depressed. And he took my baby away and buried an empty casket?” Her world hurtled into space. Ace leaned over to comfort her. She slapped at his hands. “Don’t touch me! Don’t ever touch me again.” 176

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“Brenna, I—” “Shut up. No more lies. You should have told me the first time we met…the moment I opened the cabin door. I had a right to know.” “Listen to yourself. Are you forgetting that I was your father’s victim, too? Does that make me a criminal? I didn’t know the truth until the night you told me the baby had died.” “The same night we made love for the first time,” Brenna continued his story. “The night you took all the love I had to give and kept me in the dark about the most important thing in my life.” “I didn’t tell you right away because I didn’t trust your father. I thought if he’d tricked you that perhaps he’d tricked me, too. I had to make sure Kayden was really our daughter. For all I knew, our baby might have died, and Daniel handed me someone else’s child.” The childhood chant “can’t hear you, can’t hear you” played in her head. She didn’t want to listen to Ace’s reasons for lying. She wouldn’t let him twist her around his finger and have her believing that his deception was for her own good. She fumbled to open the door. Once it opened, she clambered out so fast she slipped and fell. She scrambled to her feet and tried to move, wanted to run, but her legs refused to cooperate with her brain’s command. The man who’d so recently poured out his undying love now stood in front of the SUV, blocking her path to freedom. She looked into his eyes and wondered why she hadn’t known he’d been lying? She’d suspected all along he held something back, but never in her wildest fantasies did she think it was about their child. Her daughter was alive. Joy rushed in pushing aside the pain in her chest. Hadn’t she always suspected? Is that why she’d never stopped grieving? Not one day in twelve long years. Even when her parents had told her the baby was stillborn, she’d remembered hearing the child cry before a prick from a hypodermic needle. Ace opened his arms. “Brenna, let’s talk this out.” A pressure built in her throat. She wanted to scream until her throat was raw. Instead she calmly said, “Out of my way.” www.samhainpublishing.com

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“Get back inside. I’ll take you home.” She pushed his solid chest. “I said move!” Her legs at last got the message. She ran with no destination in mind. Running would drain every thought and feeling from her body. Give her the oblivion she craved. If she didn’t find that release soon, the pain just might kill her. Forty minutes later Ace still loped behind Brenna at a safe distance. A stitch in his side reminded him he’d been lax with his running regime. Not to mention the throbbing in his left knee. Brenna had been the fastest cross-country runner in eastern Maine during high school, and he didn’t see that she’d slowed down with age. Once she’d exhausted herself, perhaps she’d listen to him with an open mind. Or had she already made the decision to write him out of her life? And what about Kayden? What a shock it would be to discover her mother hadn’t known she was alive. Not exactly the best thing to drop on a twelve-year-old who’d soon be transitioning to a teenager. Damn Daniel McKenzie. Brenna tore the silver chain from around her neck and heaved it into the bushes without breaking stride. She might as well have ripped out his heart. Ace stopped long enough to look through the bush for the silver charm. The chain felt warm from her skin, or so he imagined. What she’d just done, more than any hurtful words she could sling his way, convinced him their love was over. Engrossed in his dismal thoughts, he almost ran over her when she stopped. She bent forward with her hands on her knees, her breathing fast and harsh. “Come on,” Ace prompted. “Don’t stop cold. You’ll stiffen and get cramps.” Without a word she pivoted and started back at a fast walk. He fell in beside her. They both struggled to control their breathing. The tension in the air crackled like a downed electrical wire.

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After thirty minutes, Ace tired of the silence. “This doesn’t change anything. Until the person threatening your life is apprehended, someone has to stay with you. I’m guessing you don’t want that someone to be me.” “Smart man.” “I’ll call my friend, Chris Yellowtree, from the reservation. He can stay at the farm. He’s out of work, so it’ll be no hardship.” She stopped and faced him. “I don’t want any of your lackeys anywhere near me. I’ll ask Trent to move in.” “He has a job, Brenna. As much as the man cares, I doubt he’ll be able to take the time off.” Her mouth tightened. “Fine, ask your friend, Chris. Warn him upfront that he’s entering enemy territory. I have no desire to chitchat or talk at all for that matter.” “Your choice.” “We’ve got to discuss our daughter.” Controlled anger simmered in her voice. “Other than that, you and I have nothing to say to each other.” Ace kept his mouth shut. Trying to reason with Brenna when she was this emotionally charged was as futile as trying to open a coconut with his head. By the time they reached the Cherokee, his legs felt like rubber. He tried not to groan as he slid behind the wheel. Every freaking muscle in his body hurtled abusive language his way. They must have run at least four miles and walked the same distance back. Normally, he ran more than four miles, but not at Brenna’s speed. She wasn’t even tired. At least now her cheeks glowed pink and healthy. He found a decent area to turn around and drove onto the paved road toward Spruce Harbor. “I tried to tell you about Kayden the other morning in the kitchen.” At her silence he continued, “The morning your mother started a fire in the wastebasket.”

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“I guess that answers another one of my questions. My mother knew all along that her granddaughter lived with you?” “It seems that way. I brought it up at the breakfast table, and she threatened to tell you, thinking you’d throw me off the farm.” She smiled, a bleak tight-lipped smile. “Bet she had you running scared for a moment.” “It wasn’t like that.” But wasn’t it? “I wanted to tell you the truth. I tried to. I was terrified the truth would tear us apart.” “You think?” “What about Julienne? Have you changed your about pursuing adoption?” Her eyes widened with new horror. She’d obviously forgotten the child for a moment. Ace knew it was underhanded to use the little girl, but he intended to fight for Brenna, and wasn’t above using emotional blackmail. His spirits plummeted when she answered his question. She spoke in a broken whisper. “No. I haven’t changed my mind, so there’s no reason to call except to warn the social worker that Julienne might be in danger.” Ace drove with one hand and fished his wallet out of his pocket. He flipped it open and laid it on the console. “Here’s a recent picture of Kayden. She has your hair and eyes. Your nose, too, I think.” Brenna started to reach for the wallet then pulled her hand back. After a few moments, she drew a deep breath and grabbed it. A flicker of happiness came and went on her face as she saw her daughter’s image for the first time. It was a school picture, taken a few months ago. Kayden was leaning against a tree trunk, a big grin on her face. “You can have it. Slip it out of the plastic.” “Thank you.” Brenna removed the photo and ran her finger over the image of her daughter. Alive and not buried in the cemetery that she’d faithfully

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visited at least once a week. Kayden. She tested the name on her tongue and found she liked it. Ace had chosen well. She steeled herself against the man sitting next to her. If he’d told her the truth when he got back to town, she’d have understood. She would have rejoiced with him. Now he was dead to her. No. They shared a child. For Kayden’s sake, she needed to get a grip and be civil. She finally got the courage to ask the question that had been dancing around in the back of her mind for the past few hours. “What did you tell her about me?” She held her breath waiting for his answer. “That life’s circumstances prevented you from keeping her.” Breath whooshed from her lungs. “That’s it? Nothing more? Didn’t she ask questions?” “A few. I answered them as honestly as I could. I never once maligned you, if that’s what you’re wondering.” It was, but she refused to admit it. “When can I get her?” They’d just turned into the driveway. Ace looked at her and hit a huge pothole that he normally would have circumvented. “What?” “Kayden. I want her to come live with me.” He shut off the engine. The familiar tic started in his cheek. “Brenna, that’s not going to happen.” Not going to happen? Did he just say that she couldn’t have her daughter? A trembling began in her upper body and worked its way down until her knees knocked together. “I’ll get a lawyer. I intend to have Kayden. You’ve had her for twelve years.” He heaved a sigh. “She’s not a thing to be tugged on. You’d cruelly yank her away from her home? From her friends? From her school?” He leaned closer. “We’ll work out a compromise. She can visit you on school vacations and in the summer. I’m sure—” Brenna slammed her fist on the dash, startling herself as well as Ace. “No! It’s not fair,” she cried, holding onto to her smarting hand. “I’ve

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already lost twelve years of her life through no fault of my own. I won’t stand for it.” Tears clogged her throat and her heart pumped hard, bringing a return visit from Mr. Nausea. She swallowed hard and braced herself for a knock down battle. Instead of arguing, Ace gazed at her with something akin to pity clouding his dark eyes. “We’ll work out the details later. First things first. I’ll not have Kayden come here now, perhaps putting her life in danger. I’m sure you agree?” “Of course,” Brenna muttered, suddenly ashamed of her outburst. “Whose car is that?” She’d been so preoccupied she hadn’t noticed the red sedan parked in the driveway. “Reverend Marston, I think.” “Let’s see what he wants. I’ll give Chris a call. As soon as he arrives, I’m leaving. John Gar should be home, and I need to talk to him.” Ace no sooner swung his legs out of the SUV when his cell rang. Brenna slid out just as Revered Marston came out of the barn. She walked to meet him. Brenna forced a smile for the man. “Good afternoon, Reverend.” “Brenna.” He nodded. “I came as soon as I heard. Even I have to wonder God’s purpose to burden one person with so much pain.” You don’t know the half of it, Reverend. “The church is having a public supper next week. A fundraiser to help you financially. I’m hoping you can make it.” Ace walked up behind them. “Of course, we’ll be there, Reverend. How kind of the church to do this for Brenna.” “I don’t think—” “It’ll do you good, Brenna,” Ace interrupted. “You need to get out and be around people who care.” The Reverend nodded. “Yes, I agree with Mr. Bear. Let the community wrap you in their arms. Take the comfort they offer you.” “Is it a potluck supper?” Ace asked. 182

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Reverend Marston’s brow wrinkled in a frown as if he found the question a bit odd. “No. It’ll be catered from Ellsworth. The church funds will cover the catering. Of course, there’ll be a charge for the meal. All money collected will go to Brenna.” “You’re too kind,” Ace said, taking the reverend’s arm and leading him to his car. “What time is the supper? We’ll be there.” Their voices trailed off. Fuming, Brenna stalked to the barn and was taking out her frustration mucking stalls when Ace showed up. “How dare you accept an invitation on my behalf? I’m not going.” “You’ll go if I have to carry you. What better way to observe possible suspects? The whole town will show up if for no other reason than to see how you’re holding up or for a chance to get a look at me, the wayward Indian.” “And we dare to eat the food because…” “Because it’s coming from Ellsworth. I made sure—tactfully, of course—that no one other than the reverend knows the name of the caterer. He made the arrangements himself. Baked beans, ham, coleslaw and homemade bread. I’d steer clear of the coleslaw if I were you, though. Easier to mess with that.” Brenna glared at him. When he didn’t look away, she dropped her gaze and walked out of the barn. She hightailed it to her bedroom and slammed the door. By the time she flopped on her bed, her heart beat fast enough to take away her breath. She gulped several mouthfuls of air. Sobs tore from her throat with the ferocity of an old steam locomotive.

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Chapter Nineteen Ace shifted in his seat while he waited at the end of Gar’s driveway for backup. He’d finally got the break he’d been hoping for. A recent call from Byron pointed to John Gar as the drug mastermind. Byron had tracked all of the man’s trips to the Middle East and surrounding areas for the past six months. Gar spent half his life in the air. The fact that he owned a private jet added more fuel to the suspicions. Getting around airport security in the regions he traveled would be a piece of cake for someone with Gar’s wealth. Security personnel would be more than willing to look the other way with the monetary incentive Gar could afford. FBI and DEA agents had been in place with a warrant to inspect Gar’s cargo when he landed in Bangor this morning. Whether preplanned or he’d somehow gotten wind of what waited at the airport, Gar changed his flight plan at the last minute and landed at a private air strip farther north. There’d not been enough time or manpower to meet the jet when it landed. At least after reviewing the facts, a judge had granted a warrant to search Gar’s jet, as well as his home, along with a warrant to bring him and his wife in for questioning. Right now, federal agents were crawling over every square inch of the jet, looking for evidence. Ace tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Come on. Let’s get this over with. The other mystery remained unsolved. Nothing had come to light to make him believe that Gar was the one after Brenna.

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He turned on the radio then flipped it off. His heart was heavy enough without listening to Merle Haggard wail about lost love. As soon as his work here was done, he’d concentrate on convincing Brenna to forgive him. They belonged together. Always had and always would. Now that she knew about Kayden, they could work through the pain of the past together. Kayden needed both her parents—living together as a family. No child should be torn between a mother and father. He just had to convince Brenna. He damn well intended to fight for as long as it took. Having Brenna back in his life was the greatest gift he’d ever been given. It had been bad enough losing her the first time, even though he’d allowed his anger and hurt to convince him it had been for the best. Should he lose her again, he’d be haunted for the rest of his life. He squelched the little voice reminding him of the difficulties they faced. Life would change with Brenna joining the family. What if Kayden resented having a mother thrust on her as she neared her teenage years? What if Brenna couldn’t accept his mother as part of the family? What if he, himself, couldn’t handle the sudden change? Enough of the what-if’s. He’d keep a positive attitude that the situation would resolve itself. His cell rang and he answered it before the first ring ended. “Bear here.” Chris sounded disgruntled. “It ain’t gonna work, Ace.” He sighed. “What’s happened? You’ve been there for less than an hour.” “She’s hostile. I spend my time going from room to room just to stay out of her way.” “Ignore her. Just don’t let her out of your sight. I’ll be back soon and talk with her.” Even as he said the words, Ace knew that arguing with Brenna wouldn’t change a damn thing. He had to keep faith that she’d see the light. If she didn’t, then he’d sit her down and pound some sense into her.

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“Right. That will make my life more miserable than it already is. She talked to the vet on the phone. I think he’s coming by for supper, not that I’ll be invited. She told me I had to make my own meals.” “Buck up, Chris. Things could be worse.” Ace ended the call when three cars approached. A state trooper’s cruiser, a white sheriff’s car and a dark sedan like all feds drive. Looked like Uncle Sam didn’t want any screw ups. Ace adjusted the gun tucked in his shoulder holster. They’d have the warrant. It was time to get the show on the road. He met the group at the walkway. No one had much to say as they followed the brick pathway to the front porch. Ace pressed the doorbell. “Ring again,” one of the federal agents said when no one responded. “Maybe they’re in another part of the house.” A second try got the same results. Green Venetian blinds were closed on all four large windows overlooking the porch. “I’ll go around back,” said Sheriff O’Connell. “Must be another door.” Ace scanned the yard. The BMW Grace had driven the other day and a black Suburban were parked in the driveway. Even though the doors of the four-car garage were closed, the two vehicles were parked in such a way that nothing except a riding lawn mower could have squeezed by them. He had a strong feeling the Gars were in the house and not answering the door. Huffing and puffing, Sheriff Connolly charged around the corner of house, the spare tire of extra flesh on his middle jiggling. “Quick. Out here. You won’t believe this.” Ace braced one hand on the porch railing, swung his body over to and land with a soft thud on the lawn. The sheriff stood looking in a window. “What is it?” “Take a look. They’re dead. Woman’s on the couch, man on the floor.” Four long strides put Ace next to the sheriff. Through the glass he saw Grace Gar slumped on the couch. One might think she was taking a nap if not for the small hole in her forehead with streaks of blood on her

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face. John Gar lay face down, perhaps six feet away from the couch. Blood pooled under his forehead, and a small caliber automatic handgun, lay under his right hand. Murder/suicide? Possible. Ace had his doubts. “Call forensics.” He continued to study the room. “Tell them to get here pronto. We’ll go in, but until they get here, no one touch a damn thing. I want to do this strictly by the book.” Kicking in the door was something done in movies. He patiently waited until one of the troopers retrieved a lock-picking device from his vehicle. Within minutes, the door sprang open. Single file, the men entered in a ready-to-shoot mode. All was quiet in the living room. “Make sure the rest of the house is empty. Be prepared for anything. And remember, keep the scene clean.” The dwelling was empty except for the two dead bodies. Ten minutes later, Ace clasped his hands behind his head and rubbed his scalp with his thumbs. A dull ache had taken deep root and no amount of massage gave him any relief. He left the house and returned to his truck for the aspirin he always kept in the glove compartment. As he pulled out the bottle, Brenna’s necklace slipped to the floor. He scooped it up and once again thought about the significance of her tossing it in the bushes. Truth was, he had no one to blame but himself. He should have told her the moment he’d discovered she believed their child had died at birth. He could make excuses until he turned blue, and it wouldn’t change a damn thing. He’d screwed up. Tossing two of the white pills in his mouth, he washed them down with a swig of bottled water. He leaned back and closed his eyes, waiting for the medical examiner and forensics to arrive. Brenna bit the end of her pen as she reread what she’d just written. Dear Kayden, I can’t tell you how happy I was when your father… God. She ripped the paper into tiny pieces and threw it on the floor to join the fifty some odd scraps covering the rug. This was impossible. As www.samhainpublishing.com

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much as she hated to admit the truth, she needed Ace’s help to bridge the gap between her and Kayden. Without his support, her daughter might never accept a long-lost mother. And why should she? If she were five or six, perhaps she’d jump into Brenna’s arms. Be thrilled that her mother suddenly appeared out of the blue. But Kayden wasn’t a young child. Soon, she’d become a young woman. One who’d lived twelve years of her life without a mother. Twelve was the age most girls wished their mothers would disappear, not reappear. She tossed the pen and box of notepaper on the floor and rolled off the bed. She glanced at her reflection in the dresser mirror and groaned. Huge bags sagged under puffy eyes. She’d deserved a good cry, but enough was enough. Self-pity never served a person well. She grabbed a hairbrush, tackling the snarls and knots in her hair. Once it lay smooth on her shoulders, she hurried to the bathroom to wash her face. She returned to the bedroom, flopped on the bed and covered her eyes with an ice cold washcloth. Her imagination ran wild with thoughts of what she and Kayden would do once they were together. Ace’s face kept popping into her mind. Her feelings ran deeper than mere anger. She was hurt and disillusioned. No matter how much she’d loved the man, he’d lied to her. Then continued to live the lie until Myrtle blurted the truth. Had he really planned to tell her the truth? Or was that another fabrication? It didn’t matter because the damage was done. Even so, memories of her love for Ace would ride shotgun with her for the rest of her life. The phone rang, jarring her from the depressing introspection. She grabbed for the receiver before Chris answered it downstairs. “Hello?” Silence on the other end made her think someone had a wrong number. She started to hang up when Ace spoke. “Is Chris there?” “Ah…he’s downstairs. I’ll get him. Ace?” “Yes? Is something wrong?”

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“No. Not at all. I’ve just been thinking.” She waited. At his silence she continued. “You and I need to establish a working relationship. We have to be civil…for Kayden. Just because we’re no longer lovers doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. I want to do what’s best for our daughter. She’d be upset if we were fighting.” Good grief. She’d babbled on like an idiot. He remained silent for so long, she thought perhaps they’d been disconnected. When he finally spoke, he sounded tired. “In other words, you’ve realized you’ll get nowhere with Kayden without my help.” Damn. “Something like that,” she muttered. Why should she feel guilty? She wasn’t the bad guy here. “Like I told you this morning, I’ve got other things on my plate. Your need to meet Kayden takes second place.” Brenna sensed urgency in his voice. “What’s happened? Something’s wrong. I hear it in your voice.” His deep sigh came through loud and clear. “John and Grace Gar are dead.” “What?” “Yeah. Dead like in they’re no longer breathing. Like they’re lying in their house with bullet holes through their heads.” For several moments, Brenna felt numb. Before she could collect her thoughts to ask more questions, Ace said, “Sorry, Brenna. It’s been a rough day. I really need to speak to Chris.” “Hold on. I’ll get him.” “Brenna?” The urgency in his voice stayed her. “Yes?” “Make sure all the doors and windows are locked. Do you understand? Check everything right away.” Every little hair on her body rose. “I will.” She tossed the receiver on the bed and hurried to the top of the stairs. “Chris?” She heard a sports announcer on the television yelling something about a touchdown. She jogged down the stairs. “Chris?” Chris jumped out of the recliner. “What’s the matter?” www.samhainpublishing.com

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“Ace is on the phone. He wants to talk to you.” Without waiting for a response, she ran back upstairs and eyed the white receiver lying on her bed like it was the apple Eve offered to Adam. To resist the temptation to eavesdrop, she hung it up and made the rounds of the upstairs bedrooms, checking the locks on all the windows. That done, she headed downstairs. As she entered the kitchen, Chris glanced over his shoulder. He stood at the window overlooking the barn. “Ace tell you about the Gars?” “Yeah. Have you checked the windows down here?” “The ones in the kitchen.” Chris shook his head. “A few weeks ago, if someone had told me that Spruce Harbor would turn into a murder pit, I’d have told them they were crazy.” Brenna filled the dented stainless steel teakettle with water. “Someone in town sure the hell is crazy. Want a cup of tea?” Guilt flooded her when Chris’s dark eyes widened in surprise. She’d not spoken a kind word to him since he’d arrived. It wasn’t like her to take out her anger on the innocent. “Sure.” He offered her a tentative smile. “I’d like that.” “I hope there’s a movie or something else on TV other than what you’re watching. I don’t like sports.” His smile widened. “I’ll check it out. After I make sure the rest of windows are locked.” She glanced at the clock, wishing she hadn’t invited Trent for supper. Making a quick decision, she dialed his number to cancel. When Chris returned to the kitchen, the smile on his face transformed him from the sullen young man who’d arrived earlier to one with the softest brown eyes Brenna had ever seen. “All’s secure. Tea ready?” Brenna reined in her scattered thoughts. “Actually, before we settle in front of the TV, the horses need to be fed. And I’d just as soon bring Sheba in the house.”

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“Okay. Let’s go. Bring the house key. I want the place locked while we’re in the barn.” Finally, forensics gave the go-ahead for Ace and the others to enter. The medical examiner, Hyman Wuerch, looked up from where he knelt on the floor by John Gar’s body. “Didn’t expect to see you again this soon, Bear.” “What’s your opinion of what happened here?” The man’s eyes narrowed in speculation. “Same as yours, I imagine.” Ace frowned. “What makes you think I have one?” Hyman shrugged. “I could say it was intuition. Fact is, I remember your sharp mind from our last encounter. So,” he said, rocking back on his heels. “Tell me your thoughts.” Ace chose his words with care. “I’d guess that someone shot Grace in the forehead while she sat unsuspecting on the couch.” Hyman nodded. “Go on.” “The killer then turned the gun on John and shot him in the side of the head.” “How do you explain the .22 in John’s hand?” Hyman asked. “A plant to make it look like a murder suicide.” “About as accurate of a description of what went down here as we’re going to get…unless the killer wants to fill us in.” “Why are you so sure that he didn’t shoot his wife and put the gun to his own head?” the sheriff asked. “For one thing, no gun powder on John’s hand. No smudging where the bullet entered either victim. Shot at close range, smudging would be there. There’s tattooing which tells me the gun was at least two feet away if it were a pistol and at least three feet away if it were a rifle. There are no shell casings.” Ace picked up on the story. “If the killer used a rifle, shot from the doorway and didn’t think about casings, then they should be around the doorjamb or on the porch.” www.samhainpublishing.com

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“Should be, but forensics couldn’t find them.” The sheriff asked another question. “How can you determine that the killer used a rifle and not a handgun?” “Not sure we can,” Wuerch admitted. “If they were shot from the doorway, it could have been a .22 handgun with a scope or a rifle. Only prints on the gun near John were his. This,” he pointed to the handgun on the floor, “has not been fired recently.” Wuerch sighed. “Doesn’t really matter about the casings. It’s difficult to match a .22 shell casing to a particular gun.” The sheriff was on a roll. “Why are you sure it was a .22?” “Size of the entry hole. If it had been a large caliber…well, let’s just say it wouldn’t be a pretty scene. That and the bullets didn’t exit. A .22 to the head is often used by the mob. The bullet generally ricochets in the skull causing considerable brain damage, hemorrhage and death, without exiting.” “So whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. This is not a crime of passion.” “Seems that way, Bear.” “John’s corporate jet landed at around ten o’clock this morning. He couldn’t have made it home before eleven thirty or twelve o’clock. It’s now six. Estimated time of death?” Hyman sighed and rose to his feet. “The woman’s been dead well over twelve hours. The man died more recently. That in itself rules out a murder suicide since John wasn’t home when his wife was killed.” Ace’s mind spun with the implications. The murderer had killed Grace, then waited inside the house for John to come home to discover his wife’s body. No sign of forced entry, or a struggle. Grace had known her murderer. Brenna plucked an old winter coat of her father’s from a hook on the wall by the door. She handed it to Chris. “Best put this on. Looks like the temperature has dropped.”

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“Thanks. Guess I didn’t come prepared for the weather, although it couldn’t be as cold as the day of your wedding.” At her quizzical look, he continued. “I arrived at the church halfnaked.” Brenna choked back laughter. “You’re kidding me. I didn’t know that.” She thought Chris might be blushing beneath his dark skin as he scuffed the toe of his moccasin on the floor. Brenna’s interest peaked. Why was Chris so uncomfortable? “Well? You’ve opened the barn door and the horses are halfway across the field. So spill it.” He looked everywhere in the kitchen but at her. “Ace asked me to disrupt your wedding to Anson.” Her heart rate increased. “Really?” “I figured if I showed up at the church, wearing nothing but a breech cloth, people would get pissed off and there’d be a ruckus.” Brenna laughed. A feeling of warmth stole over her. So Ace had cared about her from the time he came back to town—even believing what he did about her. “And then what? Ace planned to whisk me away when no one was looking?” Chris buttoned the coat and shrugged. “Not sure. He didn’t fill me in on his plans. Anyway, by the time I arrived, Anson had been shot, so Ace told me to get my ass back to the reservation.” Brenna stepped onto the porch and shivered. “I would have loved to have seen everyone’s faces if Ace’s plan had played out.” A mellow orange still covered the western sky, even though the sun had set quite some time ago. Heavy frost already coated the ground. Still two weeks until Thanksgiving and this might be the hard freeze that unpacked its gear and moved in for the winter. The chance of more thaws dimmed with each passing day. Why did winters always seem so long? For the first time in her life, she wished she could hibernate like a bear. Go to sleep and wake up when her wounded heart had healed.

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If Ace had his way, she wouldn’t see Kayden until school let out next summer. The Christmas holidays loomed ahead like a pitch-black cave. She regretted a lack of close friends to help her through the coming months. Trent was the only one. And if he couldn’t accept that friendship was all she had to give, then she’d be alone. “Feels like snow,” Chris commented as they reached the barn. “Sure does. The dampness in the air makes me want to soak in hot water.” Chris grinned. “Why do we live here?” “Because we’re idiots?” They both laughed. Chris stepped in front of Brenna. “I’ll get the door.” “I’d better do it. It sticks and I know exactly how high to lift to get it to open.” She moved ahead of Chris. Just as she opened the door, the report of a rifle echoed throughout the valley. Chris crumpled at her feet.

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Chapter Twenty Chris yanked Brenna’s legs, tumbling her to the hard ground. “Stay down.” His weak voice mobilized her into action. With her right foot, she pried the barn door fully open and wiggled backwards on her belly. Sweat prickled her scalp, despite the cold, as she maneuvered into position to tug Chris inside. Sheba crept into the barn, whimpering. “Where are you hit?” “Left leg,” Chris rasped. He pushed with his good foot in an effort to help her move him. A second shot cracked in the cold night air. Brenna threw herself over Chris. Wood splintered on the back wall. The horses whinnied in terror and kicked the sides of their stalls. Brenna inched her way behind Chris’s head. “Can you roll over?” She hooked her arms under his armpits. “Relax. I’ve got you.” Chris struggled to sit up. “Quick. I’ll push with my good leg while you pull. Head for the nearest empty stall.” Adrenalin gave her astounding strength and clarity of thought. In the sanctuary of the stall, she scooted down to check the damage to Chris’s leg. As gently as she could, she used her jackknife to cut the material around the wound, praying it was only a flesh wound. The wet stickiness soaked into his jeans told her otherwise. She yanked the wool scarf from around her neck and tied it around his thigh as a tourniquet. “I’ve got to get back to the house and call for help.”

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Chris grabbed her arm in a not-so-gentle grip. “No! This hole in my leg would be nothing compared to what Ace would do to me if something happened to you.” Brenna tried to reason. “You need medical attention. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” “Cell phone…in my pocket…never use the damn thing.” Chris’s breathing took a turn for the worse. She slipped her hand into his jeans pocket. “Other one,” he croaked. Why couldn’t she remember Ace’s number? Come on, Brenna, think! Sweat soaked into her T-shirt. “Push one. Ace rigged it for speed dial.” Her hands shook, but Brenna managed to hit the right button with her thumb. The phone rang four times. She tried to swallow and discovered her mouth was bone dry. Damn it, Ace. Answer the phone. Almost as if he’d heard her plea, he picked up. “Chris? Is something wrong?” “Ace?” Her voice wobbled. “We’re in the barn. Chris has been shot. He needs an ambulance.” “How bad?” “It’s his thigh. He’s lost a lot of blood. I tied a tourniquet. I…I think he’ll be okay.” “What about you? Are you hurt?” She shook her head then realized he couldn’t see her. “No. Chris took a bullet meant for me.” “Is the shooter still around?” “I don’t think so…I don’t know. He shot a second round after hitting Chris. It hit the inside wall of the barn…” “Stay where you are. Do you have a weapon?” “A small jackknife.” She looked around. “A shovel and a pitchfork.” “Good. Keep them close. I’m on my way. The ambulance, too.” Then he was gone, and Brenna felt alone. Get used to it. He’s no longer a part of your life. 196

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Sweat trickled down her back as she squirmed on her stomach toward the pitchfork. Hooking her fingers around the wooden handle, she drew it close to her body and wiggled her way back to the stall. She scooted on her butt to lean against a bail of straw. Memories of making love with Ace flashed behind her eyes. When she gently lifted Chris’s head onto her lap, his cold hand clasped hers. Thank you, my friend. She heard the words clearly, although not a word had been spoken. She squeezed his hand. “You’ll be fine. Up running around in no time.” “I’m sorry I screwed up. Ace was counting on me.” “Hey! You took a bullet meant for me. Can’t do much more than that.” Brenna checked her watch every minute for the next fifteen. Chris didn’t lose consciousness. She worried when his breathing grew shallow. She inspected his leg closer and saw the bullet had passed through his thigh. Had it shattered any bones? She raised his head and made a pillow out of straw before edging down to loosen the tourniquet. A sigh of relief whooshed from her lungs when the blood didn’t gush from his wound. Surely, there’d be more bleeding if the bullet had hit a major artery. Her head snapped up at the wail of sirens echoed through the hills in the distance. Possibly a mile away, but close enough to make her breathe easier. “Help’s coming, Chris. Hold on.” “Where’s Ace? He should have been here by now.” Tires crunched on the frozen gravel outside. Brenna curled her fingers around the handle of the pitchfork. Her heart jumped into her throat when someone kicked open the back door. She placed her free hand over Chris’s mouth so he wouldn’t call out. “Brenna? Chris?” Chris grabbed Brenna’s wrist and yanked her hand away. “Over here.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. Several more vehicles pulled into the driveway, their sirens wailing different tones. The light flickered on and Ace ran toward them, www.samhainpublishing.com

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holstering his gun. Dropping to his knee, he inspected Chris’s wound. “You’re lucky the guy was a bad shot. Any higher…” “Shot was meant for Brenna. Happened to get in the way.” “We need a stretcher in here!” Ace yelled as Chris started to shake. “He’s going into shock.” Brenna grabbed one of the horse blankets hanging on a hook. “Cover him up. He needs to be kept warm.” Paramedics rushed through the doors. On a count of three, they hoisted Chris onto a stretcher and secured the straps. A state trooper ran in with two wool blankets. Within minutes Chris was whisked away, and the ambulance tore down the road, siren still blaring. “Are you all right?” Brenna looked at Ace for the first time since he’d arrived. “Physically, I’m fine. Emotionally, I’m…not so fine.” “How did this happen?” Brenna rubbed her arms to chase away the goose bumps. “We came out to the barn to feed the horses. Chris was opening the door. It sticks, so I said I’d do it. The moment we changed positions, he crumpled. I managed to get the door open. One more shot went over our heads and hit the wall.” She gestured toward the back of the barn. “Any idea where the shots came from?” “Over in the woods behind the paddock. At least that’s my guess.” Ace rose. “Let’s go inside.” Brenna stared at his outstretched hand. At her hesitation to grab a hold, he let it drop to his side. Refusing to yield to the hurt in his eyes, she pushed off the floor and walked into the darkness. Ace rose and squelched his desire to punch a wall. So nothing had changed. More important, why was he surprised? Hope was one of the greatest gifts given to man and he’d hoped she’d come around. He straightened his shoulders, swallowed his disappointment and followed

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her past the police cruisers and into the house where she was giving a statement to Sergeant Penny. “It’s snowing,” Ace remarked on entering the kitchen. He grabbed a soft drink from the refrigerator and popped the top. The sergeant closed his notebook. “Super. Guess that takes care of finding any tracks.” “’Fraid so. Ground’s too hard anyway.” Ace took a gulp of the cold soda and concentrated on Brenna, who seemed desperate to look everywhere but at him. “If you remember anything else, Brenna…anything at all,” the sergeant said, “give me a call or let Ace know.” With a nod, he opened the door and slipped outside. “Looks like I’ll be staying here with you after all.” “You can have my mother’s room or Colin’s. Your choice.” “Thanks. I’ll take the couch.” She shrugged as if she could care less where he slept. The thin cord holding back his anger snapped. “It must get real heavy.” A frown marred her forehead. “What?” “Your pain. You wear it around your neck like a freakin’ anvil.” He knew her well enough to know the tears filling her eyes were tears of anger. “How dare you.” “I dare because I care. You won’t score any points with Kayden if you look like you hate the world, me most of all, the first time she sees you.” Brenna came at him, fists clenched. He sidestepped and grabbed her shoulders from behind. Overcoming her struggles, he wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. God, if only he could bottle her scent for the future when she was no longer a part of his life. She managed to kick his shin once before he hooked a foot around her legs. Brenna tried to twist out of his grasp. “Let me go.” “Promise to behave, and we’ll discuss Kayden.” Kayden. The magic word. Instantly, she relaxed—almost slumped in his arms. www.samhainpublishing.com

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He released her and took two steps back just in case. “Face it, Brenna. No one, especially a twelve-year-old, wants to be around someone feeling sorry for themselves because life has dealt them a low blow.” “Spare me the country-western wisdom.” “It’s the truth.” She shot him a scathing look and walked to the refrigerator. “I’m hungry. Want a grilled cheese sandwich?” This Brenna he understood. She’d always needed to stay busy in times of stress. “Sure. If it’s no trouble.” “Making two is just is easy as making one.” “How about three? I’m hungry.” Wow. That even earned him a half smile. Brenna stood at the counter buttering the bread. “What will you tell Kayden?” “The truth. That your father lied to you when she was born.” “When will you tell her?” Ace opened the refrigerator and helped himself to another can of Coke. “Soon. I have a feeling my job here will wrap up shortly.” Brenna slapped the sandwiches on a flat cast iron skillet and turned to Ace. “Really? What’s happened? Other than someone killing the Gars?” “Heroin and an assortment of other goodies were found on John’s plane—wrapped in rugs. Looks like his prestige and money made it easy for him to use his private plane to smuggle drugs into the country. The FBI is digging into his finances now. Anything he owned will more than likely be confiscated.” “Any ideas who killed them?” she asked as she flipped the sandwiches. He loved watching her work. Hell, he loved watching her no matter what she was doing. “A pissed-off someone, by the looks. It’s a certainty that John and Grace didn’t run around Spruce Harbor selling bags of

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cocaine and heroin. There’s at least one accomplice, if not more.” He rose and grabbed two plates and a couple of glasses from the cupboard. She set the sandwiches on the table and hefted a gallon of milk from the fridge. “I know for a fact that Colin had never met the Gars, so that vindicates him as far as I’m concerned.” Ace bit into the toasted sandwich and closed his eyes in sheer bliss of the moment. “You remembered,” he mumbled with his mouth full. “Guess I did. Not too many people like grilled cheese and peanut butter sandwiches with slices of onion.” “Thank you. They’re good.” “And you figure this unknown accomplice is the one who wants to kill me?” “Not sure about that. I’m thinking there must be a separate level of intrigue going on.” “Like what?” “Ethel Pinkham.” Ace winced at her laugh. “I know you think I’m crazy, but hear me out.” He regaled her with the reasons he suspected Ethel. The note Grace Gar had left in Ethel’s door got Brenna’s attention. “Ethel, a blackmailer?” She shook her head. “I just can’t picture it.” Ace put the sandwich on his plate. “Why not? What easier way to make money, if you can get away with it.” “You’re telling me that John and Grace, or at least John, was a drug dealer. Wouldn’t he have simply taken care of Ethel if she attempted blackmail? Dropped her off the pier with a couple of concrete blocks tied to her feet?” Ace pushed away from the table and brought his plate to the sink. “Maybe John wasn’t the one she was blackmailing. Perhaps Ethel had something on Grace.” Brenna smiled in amusement. “Like what? She went to Bangor twice a week to get her hair done, rather than once like she told her husband?” “How about she wasn’t having her hair done at all? Instead, she was having an affair with someone in Spruce Harbor?”

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Brenna chewed on that for a moment. “Well, I suppose that’s possible. Except I can’t think of one man in this town who’d live up to her standards. I mean, can you picture her getting it on with Joe French? I didn’t know John and Grace, but from what I’ve heard, he was never home. If you’re right, maybe Grace had too much time on her hands.” “Still none of this connects to you. Unless…” “Unless what?” “Unless I can fit Anson into the puzzle.” “You told me his alibis were airtight.” “Alibis can be bought. But you’re right. Unless a corroborating witness comes forward and admits to lying, he’s officially not on our suspect list. Besides, every co-worker I’ve talked to tells me Anson is heartbroken that you decided not to marry him. They say he’s still in love with you.” “Anson’s a control freak. He’s disappointed because he didn’t set the hook right, and I got away.” Brenna heaved a sigh. “I’ll be so freakin’ glad when this is over. I just want to get on with my life.” “You mean a life without me.” Ace cursed his lack of self-control. A brief look of pain came and went on her face. The chair legs scraped on the linoleum as she rose. “Please. Let’s not get into an argument. I’m too tired.” The demons within cheered him on. “Answer one question for me with complete honesty. That’s all I ask.” He braced himself for a refusal when her hesitation stretched on. Finally, she nodded her agreement. “One question.” “Would you have forgiven me if I’d told you about Kayden that first night—the night you revealed she’d died at birth?” Ace held his breath. Wondered if she’d lie to him. It didn’t matter if she did because he’d seen the answer flash in her eyes. Her gaze lowered to her plate. “No. You had twelve fucking years to tell me, Ace.”

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Relief that she’d at least been honest turned to fury. “So you’re telling me that I was screwed if I did and screwed if I didn’t.” She leapt out of the chair. He seized her arm as she brushed by him on her way out of the room. “Then I’m glad I didn’t tell you. I wish I’d managed to keep you in the dark longer.” He stared at her shocked expression. Way to go. Nothing like kicking a dog already cowering in the corner. Blue eyes dominated her pale face. “How can you say that?” “Deny it if it feeds your sadness, but I tried to tell you many times. You always brushed me off.” “You could have made me listen,” she insisted. Determination prodded him to fight for their love. “What about our vows? We’re twin souls, remember? Nothing will come between us? You promised—” “No! I didn’t promise. I knew when you asked for my promise something was wrong, but I never expected that…never thought my daughter was alive and you were keeping it a secret.” “It wasn’t like that, and you know it.” Her chest heaved with emotion. “No, I don’t. You should have contacted me years ago. You should never have left town without seeing me in the first place.” He was wasting his breath. Brenna wasn’t ready to listen to reason. Hell, she might never be ready. “Good night. I’ll be in the den working.” Brenna grabbed a can of Coke from refrigerator and popped the top, the sound a loud echo in the silent kitchen. She lowered herself into a chair at the kitchen table. Why wasn’t she pleased that Ace had accepted her decision to be done with him? It’s what she wanted. A sharp pain pierced her stomach at all the years she’d missed of Kayden’s life. Never saw her first smile, first tooth, first steps. Perhaps Ace had taken videos. Even so, did she want to see them? Or would they add fuel to the resentment already grinding in her chest?

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Sheba whined and nosed her thigh. Brenna scratched the dog behind the ears. “Things have been rough, haven’t they, girl?” The dog’s tail thumped a loud beat on the linoleum. “Life will get better.” After taking a mouthful of the soda, she dumped the rest down the sink. “Come on, girl. Let’s go to bed.” With the dog on her heels, Brenna made her way to the stairs. The door to the den was closed and she could hear the low thrum of Ace’s voice and wondered who he talked to. Was it Kayden? Would he tell her the truth tonight? She trudged up the steps, intending to go straight to bed. At the top of the landing, her legs followed their own agenda, and she moved towards her mother’s room. For a moment, she stood in the doorway. The stale stench of cigarette smoke lingered, making her fingers itch to open a window. In her mother’s room, she wandered around, trying to get an understanding of what had made her mother tick. Something that had been a mystery her entire life. She stopped in front of an old cedar hope chest. Memories of an incident that occurred several years ago flickered in her mind. She’d been looking for a winter scarf and was about to open the chest when her mother charged into the room. “Get out of there. What do you think you’re doing?” she’d hollered. “Stay out of my personal things.” Surprised at her mother’s anger, Brenna had jumped as if stung. Never again had she violated her mother’s privacy, but she’d always wondered what secrets that wooden box held. The cedar chest loomed big in her vision, and she wrestled with her conscience. She convinced herself she had no reason to feel guilty. Everything in this room needed to be dealt with. Why not start now? The locked chest presented no problem. She knew exactly where her mother had kept the key. She flipped open the ancient faded leather jewelry box that had sat on the dresser for as long as she could remember. Lifting out the top shelf, she picked up a small brass key. Her fingers trembled and she had to try twice before she managed to fit the key into the lock. The lid sprung open and her first glance filled

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her with disappointment. Three wool blankets smelling of mothballs lay neatly folded across the length of the inside. She held her breath as she took them out. Mothballs made her nose tickle and reminded her of the elderly. A box tied together with a piece of red ribbon caught her eye. She pulled on one end of the red bow, flipped off the cover and removed a pile of papers. As she leafed through them, anxiety rode her hard. Suddenly, she faced her fear head-on as she stared at the proof of her parents’ treachery. Kayden’s birth certificate, stapled to the adoption papers she’d signed, believing she signed a death certificate. The truth had been as close as the next room all these years. Had her mother kept them, hoping that one day Brenna would learn the truth? Setting the documents aside, she continued rifling through the pile. She came to a sealed envelope with hers and Colin’s name on the outside. She tore it open and removed a letter. Dear Brenna and Colin, If you’re reading this, then I’ve passed on. Hopefully, to a better place…a kinder place. I know that I’ve not been a good mother. No, it’s worse than that. I’ve failed you both. Especially you, Brenna. My excuse for years was my fear of your father’s wrath if I didn’t go along with his plans. After he died, I knew you’d leave Spruce Harbor if I told you the truth. Colin and I depended on your strength. Brenna paused. How odd that her mother and Ace used the same excuse for their dishonesty. She tried to put herself in their place. Would she ever do something so horrendous as to keep a mother from her child? She read on. Brenna, I’m not sorry your father parted you and Ace Bear. Racially mixed marriages never work, and over the years I convinced myself that your daughter was better off with her own kind. Can you imagine the life she would have had in Spruce Harbor? A quick scan showed her the letter went on with more of the same. Her mother hadn’t been really been asking for Brenna’s forgiveness. Perhaps that’s what she’d had in mind when she’d started writing, but

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the tune soon changed to justification of her actions. Brenna refolded the letter and stuck it back in the envelope. She thumbed through copies of paid mortgage bills, old school report cards for Colin—none of hers—until she came to another envelope. This one had no name on the outside and wasn’t sealed. Inside was a legal promissory note made out to Ethel Pinkham and signed by both her parents. Brenna almost choked at the amount. Why would her parents owe Ethel seventy-five thousand dollars? It was dated twelve years ago. The year of Kayden’s birth. She rummaged through the rest of the papers, checking for payment receipts. And found none. A small photograph fluttered to the floor. Curious, Brenna picked it up and studied a newborn’s image. The baby had a head full of black hair and sucked on one fist. A hand grabbed her shoulder. Brenna stiffened and opened her mouth to scream.

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Chapter Twenty-one “God! You scared me.” Ace reached over Brenna’s shoulder and ran a finger down the photo. “That’s Kayden. It must have been taken at the hospital the day she was born. Where’d you find it?” She gestured toward the cedar chest. “In there, along with her birth certificate. Did you file it before you left town?” Ace nodded. “I remember holding her, while the clerk filled out the paperwork. God, she was so tiny. Why would your mother have a copy?” “Perhaps to punish herself. She was an unhappy woman.” Brenna cleared her throat. She didn’t want to take a trip through the past with Ace. “You might be interested in something else I found.” She handed him the promissory note. He whistled. “Our prim and proper Ethel has been one busy lady. I wonder if she was blackmailing your family as well as the Gars? Mind if I take it?” “No, of course not. Perhaps my parents simply borrowed money from her. If they did, I hope they paid her back.” “Where would a retired schoolteacher get seventy-five thousand dollars to loan?” “I still can’t picture that fragile old lady involved in blackmail.” “Stranger things have happened. There was a case out west where an eighty-two-year old woman married and killed five husbands for their life insurance policies. Dragged the bodies down into her cellar.” Brenna wrinkled her nose. “Maybe you’d better check out Ethel’s cellar. Never know what you might find.” www.samhainpublishing.com

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Ace didn’t crack a smile. An awkward silence hung in the room. Finally, he spoke. “I came up to tell you that I found a decent used truck for you. It will be delivered tomorrow. It’s not Old Blue, but it’s as close as I could come. The garage confirmed that your truck’s totaled.” “I figured as much. Look, Ace. I know you’re trying to be helpful, but sooner or later, I’ve got to stand on my own two feet. I’m uncomfortable owing you so much money.” He brushed off her concerns. “Pay me back when you can or not at all. I’m not worried about it.” “I’ll pay you back, if it’s the last thing I do.” As soon as the words left her mouth she realized how vehement she’d sounded. “I didn’t mean—” “Forget it,” he bit out on his way to the door. He pivoted to face her. “The preliminary autopsy results are back on your mother. She died of cyanide poisoning. From the pie. No fingerprints on the pie plate other than your mother’s. No poison in any of the other food.” The news didn’t affect Brenna. “It’s what we expected. So when can I bury her?” “Should I tell the medical examiner to transport the body to the funeral home? You can call and make arrangements.” Brenna swiveled back to the hope chest and randomly pawed through its contents. “No arrangements. I’ve decided not to have a funeral. Maybe later I’ll arrange a memorial service. I want to bury her beside my father…the sooner, the better. The ground will be frozen soon, and I’d have to wait until spring.” “How many plots did your parents own?” Brenna turned away from the pity in Ace’s eyes. “I don’t know. My mother can be laid to rest in the baby’s grave that’s been empty all these years. I want the stone there taken away.” “Sure. I’ll call and make arrangements right now…for tomorrow. I think the earlier, the better.” “Perfect. I don’t want anyone else there.”

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“About tomorrow. I know the last thing you want to do is traipse around town with me all day. Why don’t you call Trent and ask him to come by for the afternoon?” The next thing Brenna knew she was on the floor, Ace covering her body. She pushed at his chest. “Get off me” “Didn’t you hear that noise outside?” His warm breath on her neck brought goose bumps to her arms. She heaved a sigh. “There’s a tree close to the house. One of the branches needs to be cut. It always taps against the pane when the wind blows.” Her body stirred, showing her the ultimate betrayal. Why had things turned out this way? Too much bad history. “Oh.” Ace rolled off with a sheepish grin. “Sorry.” He lay on his side, propped on an elbow. Brenna sat up and crab-walked backwards to lean against the cedar chest. Their gazes clung. “I love you,” he breathed. Hunger laced with love shone in his eyes. “We were both wronged. Let’s forget the past and start over. You, me and Kayden. Let go of your anger, Brenna. It won’t be easy, but give us a chance.” “I’m not angry anymore,” she murmured, surprised she spoke the truth. “Other than a heavy sadness in my chest, I feel dead. I’m sorry. I have nothing left to give.” His mouth tightened. Without another word, he bounded to his feet and strode to the door. Her voice stopped him. “About tomorrow.” “What about it?” he asked without turning around. “I should go with you. Chris was shot because he was with me. I don’t want to put anyone else in jeopardy.” He nodded and stepped into the hall. She readied herself for the door to slam. Instead, she barely heard it click shut. Somehow that soft noise made everything more final.

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The small casket had been lifted from the ground by the time Ace and Brenna arrived at the cemetery. The sun had yet to rise, although the overcast sky would hide the brilliant pinks and reds Brenna had often watched from this very spot. The heavy fog rolling off the ocean seemed appropriate for the occasion. There’d been no conversation this morning. The silence in the car suited Brenna’s mood as the Cherokee climbed the narrow dirt path into the cemetery. “They’ve removed the stone,” Ace said in a dull voice. “Yes. Thank you for asking them to start work early. What…what will be done with the casket?” It might be a silly question, but for reasons Brenna couldn’t comprehend, she needed to know. Ace’s gaze didn’t linger. He averted his eyes. “I imagine it will be destroyed.” Suddenly, she knew. “You’re going to open it.” He took a deep breath. “Brenna—” “It’s all right. It’s probably a good idea to put all the ghosts to rest. “Do it here. Now. I want to see for myself.” Ace turned in his seat. Did he think she’d lost her mind? Evidently, whatever he saw in her expression convinced him she was stable because he nodded and got out of the SUV. Brenna opened her door and hurried to catch him. She wanted to hear everything. She hid her surprise that Hyman Wuerch, the medical examiner, was there. More proof that Ace thought there might be a body. Please God, don’t let there be a body in that tiny casket. Ace came to her side and gently curved a hand around her elbow. “Let’s move back until he opens it.” Brenna stumbled to keep up as Ace whisked her toward the Cherokee. “Why? Are you expecting to find something?” “I don’t want to take any chances. Your father…” He clamped his mouth closed.

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“Go ahead and say it. It hasn’t stopped you before. My father was a bastard, and nothing he might have done would surprise you.” “I’m not going to fight, Brenna. Even if you stick me with pins.” Brenna shivered in the damp cold air, despite the fact she was dressed in several layers of heavy clothes. “I know my father was a monster.” Ace tapped her shoulder. “Let’s go. Hyman’s waving us back.” The medical examiner smiled at Brenna. “Good news. It’s not empty, but there’s no body.” Brenna slumped with relief and would have fallen, if not for Ace’s arm around her midriff. She relaxed her jaw, realizing it ached from clenching her teeth. She followed Ace to the front of the casket, took a deep breath, peered inside and blinked several times. Laying on pink satin meant for a tiny corpse lay several vacuum-sealed plastic bags. “What is it?” Ace asked. Brenna was transported back to the semi-sweet days of her pregnancy. Even her grief that Ace had left town, didn’t take away her happiness at having his child. She spent most of her days knitting, sewing and preparing a room for the baby. He touched her arm. “Are you all right?” “All of Kayden’s baby clothes. Sweaters and blankets that I knitted. Things other people made for her. My mother told me she’d given it all to charity.” “Perhaps this was a way of saying goodbye to her granddaughter.” Ace reached inside and gathered the three bags. Brenna sucked in air. “What are you doing?” Ace’s hand stopped in mid-air. “I thought Kayden might like to see how much you looked forward to her arrival.” Brenna backed away, shaking her head. He might as well be holding a bagful of tarantulas. “No! They’ve been buried for twelve years. I couldn’t. Throw them out. They’ve rotted with time.” www.samhainpublishing.com

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A blur of black to the right in her peripheral vision distracted her from the moment. A hearse crept slowly over the rise. Hearses gave her the chills. Long, black trains. What purpose did the curtains in the back windows serve? To hell with tradition. Hearses should be bright. Maybe red or metallic blue. The next half hour passed quickly. Brenna watched the actual event, the same way she’d watch a movie. A hysterical giggle bubbled in the back of her throat when Ace stepped forward and spoke a few words at her mother’s grave. She bit her tongue. How ironic that the man her mother hated would be the only person to pray for her soul. She ran to the Cherokee and reached into the back for the flowers she’d pulled out of an arrangement Trent had sent to the farm. Head high, shoulders squared, she returned to where Ace waited. She placed one white rose on each of the three graves as a final goodbye to her family. Her family was gone. Twelve years ago, her parents had made a decision to ruin her life. Truth be known, she doubted they’d ever had her well-being, or that of Kayden’s, in their minds. They’d done what they’d done for themselves. They never could accept her love for an Indian, so they sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to accept a Cree grandchild. The time had arrived to let go and move on. No tears came until she placed the rose on Colin’s grave. She knelt on the hard cold ground and prayed her brother was in a happier place. Despite his tendencies to agree with her parents, she knew that deep down, Colin had loved her and would have eventually accepted Ace and Kayden. Ace pulled the Cherokee into the parking lot of a small local diner. “What are you doing?” Brenna asked in surprise. “You haven’t spoken a word in the last two hours. Thought perhaps you might be hungry.” “Not really.” “But you’ll eat.”

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She gave him what he’d long ago labeled the “screw you” look. Ace almost groaned aloud the moment they entered the diner. The heavy smell of grease didn’t make his stomach queasy. All the damn heads turned in their direction did. The contempt on their faces dragged him back to his teenage years. He wanted to punch someone. His fingers lightly brushed the back of Brenna’s hand. “Perhaps this wasn’t such a great idea.” Brenna lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders and pasted a big smile on her face. “I’m starved.” She strode forward, leaving Ace no choice but to follow. The scene, so reminiscent of their youth, broke his heart. Just like old times—them against the rest of the world. He slid across the booth’s vinyl seat. “Are you a glutton for punishment?” His jeans snagged on something sharp. Talk about déjà vu. The diagonal tear in the vinyl had been there twelve years ago. He now sat on the same damn bench he’d sat on when he was in high school. The chrome of the stools at the counter still sparkled. Nothing had changed, unfortunately, not even the clientele. Brenna ignored him, her nose stuck in the menu. “What do you want? Eggs and bacon? Pancakes? How about a Western sandwich?” A waitress who couldn’t have been more than seventeen sidled up to the booth, a pad and two mugs in one hand, and a carafe of coffee in the other. She held the pencil between her teeth. Her lips curved into a smile as she poured their coffee. No prejudice here. “What can I get you folks?” Brenna put her menu on the table. “Scrambled eggs and bacon for me.” Ace decided without a menu. “I’ll have blueberry pancakes.” The waitress scribbled their orders on her pad and sauntered toward the kitchen. “Not one thing has changed about this place.” Brenna smiled. “There’s a new cook. The old one had a heart attack.” The smell of bacon grease drifted out from the kitchen. His arteries groaned. “He probably ate too much of his own cooking.”

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“Great. Just what we need,” Brenna muttered, her gaze focused on something behind him. Ace forced himself not to turn around. “What’s wrong?” “Don Mercer just came in. He’s headed straight for us.” Freakin’ wonderful. Now he’d have to avoid a fight. He’d been crazy not to have dragged Brenna out the door the minute they’d walked in. Crazy to have come here in the first place. Don stopped beside the table. He held a watch cap in one hand, kept the other in his pocket. Ace got a whiff of soap, not the beer and whiskey odor that generally floated off the man. “I apologize for barging in on you the other night.” Brenna stared until Don shifted his gaze away. Ace waited for her to say something—anything. At her silence, he cleared his throat and said, “Apology accepted, Don. You weren’t thinking clearly.” Don switched his attention to Ace, gratitude flashing in his clear eyes. “That’s the truth. I’ve joined Alcoholics Anonymous.” The waitress returned with their orders. Ace said a silent thank you to the Man upstairs. “That’s great, Don. Best of luck with it.” Don turned back to Brenna and mumbled, “I’m sorry you lost your mother, Brenna.” Brenna nodded curtly and concentrated on her breakfast. He left their booth and settled on a stool at the counter. Ace picked up a piece of toast. “You could have helped me out there, you know.” “Why?” Brenna’s forkful of eggs halted in mid-air three inches from her mouth. “I don’t believe a damn word he said.” “He’s sober.” “If he’s sober this time next year, I’ll congratulate him.” “Man, you’re tough.”

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“I’ve known Don all my life. This is at least the fifth time he’s joined AA. He probably got scared shitless when he found out you were a DEA agent. He’d threatened you, remember?” Ace chuckled. “You’ve got a point.” He dug into his pancakes, enjoying the native berries, even though they had been frozen. “Nothing tastes better than wild Maine blueberries.” Except, perhaps, Brenna McKenzie. They ate without conversation. Once the plates were empty, the silence grated on Ace’s nerves. “You ready?” Brenna opened her purse. “Sure.” “Breakfast’s on me.” She shrugged and waited by the door while he paid. “Where to now?” “I’d like to talk with Ethel.” A smile spread across Brenna’s face. “This I have to see. Are you going to ask her if she’s a blackmailer?” Brenna broke the silence as they drove to the other side of town. “Did you contact DHS?” “I did. Don’t know how much good it did. The social worker practically tore my head off. She took my warning to keep a close eye on Julienne as an implication that DHS didn’t monitor their foster children.” “I’m sure it was nothing personal. There’ve been a lot of problems recently with foster children being abused. A few have even died in their foster homes. That’s probably why she took offense. You warned them, there’s nothing else you can do.” “I suppose,” Ace mumbled, but it still worried him that they might not heed his warning. Tree branches scraped the sides of the Cherokee when they pulled into Ethel’s driveway twenty minutes later. They fought their way through the rose bushes and climbed the stairs to the porch. Before Ace could knock, the door swung open.

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Ethel stood in the opening, clutching the lapels of a chenille bathrobe. “What brings you two around this early?” Ace nodded. “Good morning, ma’am. I’d like to say it’s a social visit, but, actually, I have a few questions to ask.” The woman tilted her head. “That a fact? Well, get in here out of the cold. There’s coffee in the kitchen. Might as well talk there.” Ethel chatted on about the weather while she set mugs on the table. She placed a pitcher of cream and a bowl of sugar in the center before going to Brenna to give her a hug. “Please accept my condolences on your mother’s death. Your head must be reeling, having her die so close to losing Colin.” “Thank you,” Brenna murmured. “And now young man,” Ethel said as she settled into a chair and took a sip of coffee. “What’s on your mind?” The lines and wrinkles in the woman’s face rivaled any road map. They were even blue and red. Ace asked, “Have you heard about the Gars?” She frowned. “No. What about them?” “They’re dead.” White eyebrows rose a fraction. “Really? When did this happen?” “Yesterday. I’m surprised the grapevine missed you.” Ethel fluffed her hair. “I spent the day in Bangor yesterday.” Ace didn’t mince words. “Anybody to vouch for you?” Brenna shifted in her chair. The rheumy eyes narrowed into slits. “Why should I need someone to corroborate my whereabouts?” “Were you blackmailing the Gars?” The smile on Ethel’s face didn’t reach her eyes. “And here I thought you’d turned into such a nice young man. Now you’re accusing an old woman of blackmail. Next you’ll be accusing me of murder.”

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Ace held her gaze. “As much as I don’t want to believe it, I’m thinking you’ve been supplementing your retirement check by blackmailing people in this town.” Ethel huffed. “Are you crazy?” “Brenna found a promissory note made out to you and signed by her parents for seventy-five thousand dollars. Care to explain?” Brenna’s swallow of coffee went down her windpipe, resulting in a coughing fit. The two antagonists ignored her. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Daniel and Doris needed money, and I offered to loan it to them so they could avoid the high interest at the bank.” “And they paid you back? “Every cent.” “Funny they didn’t keep the receipts for payments.” Ace rose. “I guess that’s it for now. Until this is resolved, don’t leave town.” Ethel’s fist pounded on the table. She got up and faced him. “Why you red-skinned bastard. Who do you think you’re talking to?” Brenna jumped out of her chair. Ace watched her face pale before a flush slowly made its way upwards from her neck. “Why you…how dare you talk to him like that.” He grabbed Brenna’s arm. “It doesn’t matter. She didn’t say anything that hasn’t been said many times before.” “Damn right,” Ethel yelled. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get your ass out of Spruce Harbor. You’ll never be accepted here.” He drew Brenna toward the front door with Ethel hot on their heels. Abruptly, he pivoted. “The last time I was here, you told me you knew nothing about the drugs in town. I’d suggest you search your memory. I’ll be back real soon with more questions.” He stepped onto the porch. Ethel slammed the door. Ace managed to yank Brenna out of the way before she lost an arm. “You’re shaking,” he said, still holding onto her.

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“Today that woman scared the bejesus out of me. I’m beginning to see things your way.” He draped his arm around Brenna’s shoulders, surprised that she tucked herself close to his chest. “Let’s go back to the farm. I’ve got a lot of phone calls to return.” Ethel had more or less told him on his last visit that the devil was alive and well. Ace had a sneaking suspicion that he stood at the devil’s door.

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Chapter Twenty-two Once home, Brenna tended to the horses and spent several hours house cleaning. A job she detested, but it kept her busy and allowed her mind to wander. About three o’clock she went upstairs. She still reeled from Ethel’s cruelty, finding it unbelievable that anyone could be so bigoted in this day and age. Anyone hurting Ace, hurt her. Ethel was right. The sooner Ace left town, the better. Her hopes of shared custody with Kayden looked dim. How could she bring a young, impressionable girl to a hellhole like Spruce Harbor? She undressed and tugged on her oversized sleep shirt, then crawled under the covers. A short nap wouldn’t hurt. Maybe Ace would let her sleep through the afternoon and night. Tomorrow she’d talk to him. Really talk to him about what was best for their daughter. If it didn’t include her, then so be it. A loud ringing penetrated her sleep-clogged brain. She’d been dreaming. A dream where the world was fine and she, Ace and Kayden had been together. She fought the gray fog of exhaustion and grappled for the phone. “Hello?” “Took you long enough.” The mechanical voice chased away all remnants of sleep. She jerked upright. “Don’t bother tracing the call. This phone gets tossed in the trash as soon as I hang up.” “Who is this?”

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“Be at the pier tonight at ten or the little blonde girl you’re so fond of will pay the consequence. Tell Bear about this call and you sign the kid’s death warrant.” Brenna’s mind raced to keep up with her heart. “You have Julienne?” “You deaf? Be there or be responsible for her death.” Click. The line went dead. Her bedside digital clock blinked five thirty-one. The sun had set and it was pitch black outside. Ace must be in the barn bedding down the horses. Was this a hoax? “If you wish to place a call, please hang up and dial again.” The recorded message reminded her she still held the receiver. Tonight at the pier she’d discover who wanted her dead. The guy couldn’t have used sweeter bait. Someone knew she’d do anything to keep Julienne safe. Ace’s voice came from downstairs. “Brenna? You awake? Want something to eat?” Slipping from the bed, she ran to the door. “Be right down.” Five minutes later, she sailed into the kitchen. “What’s for supper?” Ace glanced up from the stove. “Meatloaf, mashed potatoes and canned corn.” “Good. My hunger outweighs my exhaustion.” She paced the kitchen floor and tried to pretend Ace wasn’t staring. Act normal, Brenna. He can’t suspect you’re up to something. Ace smiled. “Thanks for all your help today.” “It was nothing. I wish you’d let me flatten Ethel.” Tomorrow I might have answers to all your questions—if I’m still alive. He set a platter on the table. “Help yourself.” Her stomach flip-flopped at the smell of food. If she didn’t eat, Ace would be on her ass. “Thought I’d give Kayden a call tonight…tell her the truth. Want to talk to her?”

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Brenna’s hand trembled. If something were to happen on the pier, perhaps it would be best if Kayden never knew the truth. She put down her fork. “About that. I think you should tell her when you get home. That way you’ll be there if she needs your support. I don’t think giving her such important news on the phone is a good idea.” Ace’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why? You’ve been after me to tell her sooner rather than later.” Tread carefully, Brenna. She shrugged. “I changed my mind.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that?” “You’ve asked me to do things your way. Now that I agree, you don’t trust me?” That question earned her a grunt. “Eat your supper, don’t play with it.” Her chin jutted forward. “I’m not a child.” “Ain’t that the truth,” he muttered. The food Brenna forked into her mouth might as well have been charcoal briquettes. She pushed her plate away. “I’d like to talk to Julienne.” “Now? Tonight? Why?” “I’m just worried.” Just when she thought he’d refuse, he shrugged and pulled out his cell. Long moments later he said, “Nobody’s home. No answering machine either.” She swallowed her disappointment. “Don’t you think that’s odd?” Ace’s scrutiny concerned?”

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“No. I’ve just been thinking about what you said…you know, about her maybe being able to identify the dealer.” “I’m sure I’d have heard if something was wrong. I did my best to warn DHS of the possible dangers.” Something was very wrong. “Yeah.” Brenna stood. “You cooked. I’ll do the dishes.” www.samhainpublishing.com

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“Brenna, what’s really bothering you?” She stiffened as his hand curled around her wrist, and forced a smile. She scraped the uneaten food into the wastebasket and put the dishes in the sink. “Tired, that’s all. Guess reality has finally settled in. My family’s dead, and I’m on my own.” Warm breath feathered the back of her neck. “Doesn’t have to be that way.” “I know. I just need some time.” Guilt flooded her when he took a quick intake of air. “Meaning there’s a chance for us?” Brenna sidestepped to escape him. What kind of person had she become to lead him on? “I don’t…I can’t give you an answer now, Ace.” “Right.” Suppressed anger shrouded his answer. “I’d like to turn in early. I’ll be in the den. Let me know when you’re ready to go upstairs.” Getting out of house would be easier with Ace upstairs in bed. Worry overrode her relief. Did he suspect something was wrong? How could he? Paranoia, it’ll destroy ya. Three hours later, Brenna hovered in front of Ace’s bedroom door. The soft snores from within the room eased her fear that he might wake. Stealing down the stairs like a thief in her own home, she slipped outside. Unlike Old Blue’s lion’s roar, her new truck’s engine purred as soft as a kitten. The night closed around her. With each step, the sole of her left hiking boot squeaked, the noise loud in the ghostlike silence. A light mist rose off the water. Thin tendrils of fog wrapped around the moored fishing boats like some oceanic monster ready to yank them under. Any night noises other than her squeaky boot were overshadowed by her pounding heart. She shoved shaky hands into her jacket pockets. In the right pocket, her fingers curled around a small canister. The pepper spray gave her

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some comfort. The other pocket held a small flashlight. She almost turned it on, but the light would only make her an easier target. She inhaled the salt air and forced her legs to carry her forward. Each boat she passed appeared to be deserted. She came to the end of the pier and turned. She stood in the quiet night and watched fog spiral around the one light on the building at the other end of the pier. She counted to ten. Now what? Should she stand around until someone showed up? Or was he already here waiting to pounce? Was he watching? Enjoying her fear? If Julienne had been hurt—no, she refused to go there. Had Ace heard her truck leave and already found the note she left on the table? Perhaps he snoozed on, oblivious to the fact she’d left. Too many questions and not one damn answer. She’d wanted to confide in him. He would have stopped her. All she’d wanted was a head start. To get here before him. God, what if he slept on until morning? She whipped around at a brief flicker of light to her left. Nate Putnam’s lobster boat bobbed in the water. Had she imagined that brief flash? She crossed the pier, stepped onto the deck and eased around the cabin to peek into the darkened window. A scraping sound had her scrambling toward the pier until a voice in the darkness stopped her. “Hello, Brenna.” She shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was. Ace had assured her the man had airtight alibis. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the flashlight. “Where’s Julienne?” He crept steadily toward her, forcing her against the rail. “Who?” He threaded his fingers through her hair, his thumbs lightly caressing her neck. She fought the urge to knee him in the groin. “What do you want, Anson? What do you hope to gain by holding Julienne hostage?” She prayed he didn’t hear the fear in her voice. Her hand slid into the pocket containing the pepper spray. The store clerk had said it was potent enough to stop a bear in its tracks. She had her doubts about that. Finger positioned on the nozzle, she slowly withdrew the canister. The moment her hand crested the pocket, Anson www.samhainpublishing.com

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grabbed her arm and squeezed her wrist, shaking the container out of her fingers. The canister hit the water with a small splash, ending her best chance for escape. Brenna wrenched her arm away and staggered before gaining balance. “Tell me what you want.” “It’s simple. I want you.” The softly spoken words frightened her more than his anger. “This is insane, Anson. You can’t force someone to love you. Love doesn’t work that way.” His mouth twisted into an ugly smile—a staunch reminder that this man insisted on having his own way. “I can make you care about me. We’ll start over…as friends.” She took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. “No, Anson, we can’t.” Brenna tore her gaze from his and scanned the boat. “Where’s Julienne? She must be frightened.” Her thoughts were spinning faster than a roulette wheel. Was Anson the person who’d set up Colin? The one who’d killed her mother…and the Gars? Anson kissed her neck. “There’s no child here. Only you and me.” Brenna’s gaze skimmed the deck, relief making her weak. Was the threat merely a ruse to get her to come here? “If she’s not here, then where is she?” “I have no idea. I want us to start over. Get to know each other without threats and blackmail.” The man was insane. “You lure me down here by disguising your voice with some horrible mechanical device, threatening the life of a three-year-old and expect me to jump into your arms?” “I’m not the one who called you. I tried traditional methods. You wouldn’t talk to me. Wouldn’t see me. So I moved on to plan B.” Plan B? What the hell was he talking about? The fog horn blasting from the distance created an eeriness that raised goose bumps on her arms. She spun around at a scuffle on the pier. The sight of Ethel’s

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gnarled fingers digging into Julienne’s shoulders paralyzed her limbs. Her knees wobbled. Were Ethel and Anson working together? She turned to Anson. “You liar!” Anson reached a hand towards her. “I didn’t know—” Julienne twisted away from Ethel’s grip and ran towards the boat, her short, chubby legs pumping like pistons. “Benna, Benna.” Brenna braced her back against the rail to catch the child as she launched herself onto the boat. Small arms and legs wrapped around Brenna’s waist. Julienne’s tears fell hot and wet on her neck. How could these people terrorize an innocent child? She turned her fury on Anson. “What do you hope to accomplish by this stunt? You wanted to see me? Fine. I’m here. Let Julienne go.” Ethel laughed, the sound cutting through the night air. “Don’t blame Anson. I’m the mastermind here.” Over Julienne’s head, Brenna gaped at the old woman, her eyes connecting with the pump action shotgun she held. “White lady,” Julienne whimpered. Brenna gasped. “Ace was right. You’re the one!” “What are you talking about?” Anson asked, his forehead puckered in a frown. He pivoted to face Ethel. “Grandmother, this wasn’t part of the plan.” He strode across the deck. “You said you’d convince Brenna to come here. Why is the child here? Why are you here?” Brenna gaped. Grandmother? Bingo. The missing link Ace had been searching for. “Anson is Florrie’s son?” Ethel cackled. “I managed to keep that secret from the busybodies in this town, even from Ace Bear. Covered my tracks well. John and Grace paid me plenty to keep it quiet. John didn’t want scandal attached to the Gar name by acknowledging a half-brother born on the wrong side of the sheets. There’s not many left in town who knew the truth and as the years passed I think most of them forgot all about it.”

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Brenna focused on Anson’s confusion. “Did your grandmother teach you how to blackmail? To lie? Did she coach you when you so eloquently convinced me to marry you?” “Shut up. I knew all along you’d be trouble.” Ethel pointed the cold, blue metal barrel at Julienne’s back. “Put the brat down.” All thoughts of defying Ethel’s command vanished at the wildness in her eyes. The woman looked crazy enough to kill without a qualm. Julienne scurried behind Brenna’s legs the moment her feet touched the deck. Ethel climbed aboard with the agility of someone twenty years younger. Anson zeroed in on his grandmother. “What is Brenna talking about? John Gar’s my brother?” “Was, Anson,” Brenna interrupted. “Don’t you read the papers? He and his wife were murdered yesterday.” Ethel’s in-command voice morphed to a whine. “Everything I’ve done, I did for you, Anson.” Anson stiffened, his hands clenched into fists. “Exactly what have you done, Grandmother?” Despite fear for herself and Julienne, a twinge of pity for Anson touched Brenna’s heart. It appeared he didn’t have a clue as to the extent of his grandmother’s crimes. “I’ll tell you. Your grandmother framed Colin, right before she poisoned my mother. She also attempted to kill me—on more than one occasion. Not to mention being the prime Downeast drug kingpin.” Anson attempted a laugh that fell short of the mark. “My God, Brenna. You’re serious. You expect me to believe that this elderly woman planted a bomb on your boat?” Her life depended on convincing Anson his grandmother was a criminal. “It’s the truth.” The moon shone enough light through the fog for Brenna to see Anson’s face blanch as white as the mist swirling in the air. Brenna backed up as Ethel moved to her left side. “You always were the smartest one in your dysfunctional family. Had you figured out that 226

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your father and Grace screwed themselves silly whenever John was out of town?” Brenna wasn’t surprised. Women of all ages had been attracted to Daniel McKenzie. “Is that why you blackmailed him?” An amused gleam came and went in Ethel’s eyes. “I kept my eyes and ears open when you were pregnant. Knew how much your father hated Ace Bear. I was curious what he’d do to keep you two apart.” Ethel’s high-pitched giggle bounced across the water. “Snooped around and discovered he’d convinced the doctor and nurse to keep you sedated. Told them you were overcome with guilt for giving the child up for adoption. I give Daniel credit. He was one crafty man. Even paid off some two-bit attorney to prepare official adoption papers.” Anson seemed to be having difficulty keeping up with the conversation. He shook his head. “I don’t understand,” he said. “You’ve been trying to kill Brenna?” Ethel ignored him. “I used to go to those damn socials, knowing every woman there hated me. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer. That was my philosophy. I made the pie for you and Ace. I remembered how much you two loved chocolate cream. Didn’t figure on Doris stuffing her face right after her son’s funeral. A dreamy smile spread across her wrinkled countenance. “As for Colin, he discovered my involvement with the Gars. Knew I delivered drugs and collected money. I couldn’t take a chance he’d squeal. If he hadn’t hanged himself, I would have found a way to silence him.” Brenna’s head spun. Any remaining doubts regarding the woman’s sanity vanished. A quick glance at Anson’s shocked expression confirmed he agreed. As if in a stupor he listened to his grandmother bragging about every crime she’d committed. “You’ve certainly been one busy lady,” Brenna encouraged, hoping to keep Ethel talking. Please come, Ace. “I didn’t plant the heroin that put Colin in jail. Neither did I plant the bomb on the Desperado, cut your brake line or shoot that Indian Ace hired for a watchdog.” www.samhainpublishing.com

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She grew agitated, her finger moving to the shotgun’s trigger. “I should have, though. That goon John hired to do the job turned out to be totally incompetent. Professional, my ass. He screwed up everything he attempted.” Ethel snorted. “Waste of money. I could have done a better job myself.” Brenna realized she and Julienne didn’t stand a chance of walking off this boat if she couldn’t stall Ethel until Ace arrived. If he arrived. “You did a great job planning this escapade, Ethel. Must have taken a while. “Why did you kill the Gars?” Ethel’s fingers relaxed and slid backwards, away from the trigger. “Ah, John and Grace. My steady income was coming to an end. After all these years, Grace confided to John she’d had an affair with your father, so I wouldn’t be receiving my monthly stipend from her. John decided to get out of the drug business. I counted on the money he paid me to make deliveries. Nobody cuts me off like that.” Brenna swallowed hard. Julienne gripped her legs tighter than a hawk clinging to its prey. “Let’s call Ace. Maybe you can cut a deal with the feds.” Lost in space, Ethel continued as if Brenna hadn’t spoken. “Killing Grace was easy. Stupid fool sat there on the couch quiet as a mouse while I shot her in the forehead. John was a piece of cake. I waited behind the curtain in the living room until he came home. He never knew who ended his miserable life.” Anson cleared his throat. His mouth worked like a fish out of water before the words finally came out. “I can’t believe this. You killed my halfbrother? How could you do that? You told me my father was a vagrant blueberry picker. I had family all this time. Because of you, I never got to know them.” Ethel scowled. “Grow up, Anson. You’ve always been a needy boy. John Gar never would have accepted you into his prestigious family.” Anson’s hands shook. “Why would you want to kill Brenna? You know how much she means to me.”

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“Who does the bitch think she is? Saying no to you?” The words fired from her mouth faster than bullets from a machine gun. Ethel gestured with the barrel toward Julienne. “The kid needs to be silenced. She saw me give heroin to her parents.” Ethel glanced up, and Brenna saw a vacant look in her eyes that scared her more than the crazy, wild one. In a monotone, she droned on. “Had no idea the heroin was pure.” She shrugged. “Not sure it would have mattered if I did.” “Stop it, Ethel.” Brenna breathed in deeply, hating the quaver in her voice. “Your problem is with me, not Julienne. Let her go.” The old woman laughed again. The small hairs on Brenna’s arms stood at attention. She shifted her gaze to Anson, her eyes widening in horror when he pulled a handgun from under his jacket. Ethel moved and Brenna sidestepped as she charged. Unprepared for the woman’s strength, she staggered when the butt of the shotgun connected with her cheek. She stumbled sideways and knocked Julienne to the deck. Brenna grabbed the rail, waiting for the sparkles in front of her eyes to go away. Brenna saw the brief window of opportunity and grabbed it. “Watch out,” she yelled. “Anson has a gun.” When Ethel spun around, Brenna lifted Julienne and hoisted her onto the pier. “Run, Julienne!” Ethel grabbed a handful of Brenna’s hair and snarled, “Why you little…” Brenna ignored the pain tried not to flinch when Ethel raised her arm. Anson’s harsh voice stopped Ethel’s arm in mid-air. “Stop it. That’s enough.” For a moment Brenna thought the old lady would defy her grandson and prepared herself for another blow.

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Several tense moments later, Ethel lowered her arm, her gaze resting on the gun Anson held with both hands. “Put the gun away, Anson. You must see that we can’t let this woman live.” Relief at being spared the physical pain died. God, Ace. Where are you? Doing his best not to gag at the smell of rotten fish, Ace crouched behind a stack of lobster traps and watched Julienne charge in his direction. As she passed his hiding spot, he reached out and snatched her. Terrified blue eyes peered into his face. She clawed at his hand covering her mouth. “Julienne, you remember me from the cabin. I’m Brenna’s friend.” The fright left her eyes and her small body relaxed. She nodded. “I want you to scoot back and hide behind that stack of traps. Stay quiet as a mouse. Can you do that for me?” Another nod. The moment he released her, she scuttled backward faster than a crab headed for the cover of a rock to escape a seagull. Where the hell was his backup? He peered over the top of his fortress, wishing he were close enough to hear what was being said on the boat. He’d almost bolted forward when Ethel smashed the gunstock in Brenna’s face. Before he’d moved, Brenna had tossed Julienne onto the pier. The minute he received the phone call from DHS at ten o’clock, everything fell into place. Brenna’s strange behavior at supper. Wanting to talk to Julienne. Somebody had threatened the child, and she’d gone charging to the rescue. At least she’d left a note. He tensed when Ethel shouldered her shotgun, the barrel centered on Brenna’s chest. Anson raised what, in the moonlight, looked like a 10mm Glock. Time to move. Staying within the shadows of the docked boats, Ace crept toward Brenna and her captors. From what he’d seen, Ethel had crossed the line into insanity. Only God knew her next move.

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In the face of death, a calmness settled over Brenna like a warm blanket. At any moment, Ethel would squeeze the trigger and end her life. Mistakes made, chances not taken, played through her mind like an old movie. “Put down the gun, Grandmother.” Ethel’s eyes stayed on Brenna. “She’s not for you, Anson. Someday, you’ll meet someone worthy of your love.” “I won’t let you kill her.” Ethel lowered the gun. “You’re not thinking,” she muttered. “We have to shut her up. She knows everything. I can’t be locked up. Not at my age.” Anson held out his hand. “Give me the shotgun. You and I will leave now…head to Canada.” Ethel’s grip on the shotgun tightened. “No. I won’t let you ruin your career.” “My career is already ruined. Sympathy for Nathan Cutler is running rampant. People are treating him like some damn hero. He shoots me at my own wedding, and I look like the bad guy.” Brenna’s head swirled, listening to the conversation. Did this man honestly believe he was doing his job when he tossed people out of their homes? Ethel pumped a shell into the chamber to ready the weapon. Anson raised Grandmother.”

the

handgun.

“Don’t

make

me

shoot

you,

“I know you’d never do that, my dear boy. You and I are two of a kind. Others don’t understand us.” The red dot in Ace’s scope rested steady on Ethel Pinkham’s right shoulder. Close enough to hop onto the boat, he chose not to. Too many guns. He wouldn’t risk Brenna’s life. Like ninety percent of Maine’s rural population, his fifth grade teacher was no stranger to guns. Through the night scope he saw her

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take a deep breath and start to slowly release her breath. A shooter’s way of getting off a good shot. Somewhere along the line, Ethel had learned to shoot like a pro. Releasing his own breath, he squeezed the trigger. Ethel crumpled to the deck. Ace ran toward the boat, hurtled over the rail onto the deck and placed himself in front of Brenna. “Drop the gun, Anson. Hands in the air.” Conflicting emotions played across Anson’s face. Surprise, relief, fear. The gun slipped from his fingers and hit the deck with a clunk. He rushed to his grandmother’s side. Behind him Brenna breathed hard and fast. “You okay?” he asked over his shoulder. “Yes.” Ace turned and ran his fingers down the right side of her face. “Man, from the swelling, you’re going to have one hell of a bruise.” That earned him a smile. “Better than a hole in my chest. Where’s Julienne? Is she okay?” “Yes. She’s hiding behind some lobster traps.” “Thanks for saving us, Ace.” Running footsteps sounded on the pier. A familiar voice yelled, “Freeze. Hands in the air!” Sgt. Penny hopped onto the deck of the boat. “Damn, Ace Bear,” the man said. “Since you arrived in town, none of the law enforcement has had a day off.” Ace helped Brenna onto the pier. “Go find Julienne. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He quickly filled in the police and made arrangements to meet them at the barracks. When he found Brenna, she was on her knees, hugging Julienne. Blue eyes deep as a quarry held his gaze. “What will happen to Julienne tonight?”

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“We’ll call DHS. ‘The foster family is frantic. I talked to them, Brenna. They’re good people.” She nodded. Ace wanted to hold her…draw strength from her warmth. He searched her face for a sign she’d forgiven him. That perhaps this latest nightmare had brought her to her senses. Although he found no anger in her expression, he saw nothing to give him hope.

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Chapter Twenty-three The wind threatened to tear off the door. Brenna pulled and hung on as a strong gust nearly ripped it away. “Thank you, God,” she murmured when she at last got it latched. In the past month, winter had arrived with a vengeance. She fought the temptation to keep her coat on. The old farmhouse had as many drafts as the barn. She stoked up the woodstove and hoped it would help ward off the cold. She wiped the already spotless counter and rearranged the counter for the fifth time. The red apples painted on the white canisters were chipped and faded. She should have bought new ones. Stop it. Kayden’s only twelve. She’s not going to freak out over chipped paint on a flour canister. She grabbed a bottle of Windex and started to clean the windows. The same ones that she’d cleaned an hour ago. She tried deep breathing exercises to loosen the huge knot in her stomach. After a restless night, she’d given up about four o’clock and rose to await Kayden’s arrival. Her gaze wandered to the clock on the wall over the sink. Eleven-ten. Ace had said sometime between ten and noon. Any moment, they’d turn in the driveway and she’d meet her daughter for the first time. The mere thought threw her into a panic. She was unraveling as fast as a poorly knit sweater. What if Kayden didn’t like her? What if she didn’t like Kayden? Oh, God. Sweat popped out on her forehead. What was she thinking? They were mother and daughter. Love would come naturally. Wouldn’t it? Right. Just like she and her mother had shared a loving relationship. What a joke. 234

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Brenna was surprised that living alone at the farm hadn’t been as bad as she’d originally thought. She really missed Colin. Despite his faults, they’d been close and had shared many long talks. At least once a week she’d visit his grave and have a chat and hoped he heard her. She still couldn’t bring herself to visit her father and mother. Their manipulations had ruined her life. She ran upstairs for one last look at the room she’d spent numerous hours redoing. The walls were a pale green, and she’d made new curtains for the windows. Not too feminine, as Ace had said that Kayden was into horses. She’d chosen a print material with horses grazing in a pasture. To offset the curtains she’d decided on a fern green comforter and matching shams for the pillows. Hours of browsing used bookstores in Bangor had resulted in a bookcase full of novels she hoped would interest a twelve-year-old. As a finishing touch, a large bouquet of daisies sat on the nightstand next to the bed. The buzz around town had settled into a low drone. Soon the bloodhounds would pick up the scent of a new trail of gossip. The Gar house stood empty. She’d heard it would be auctioned soon. Relatives had come forward and taken John’s and Grace’s two kids. Ethel remained incarcerated in a mental hospital, waiting the judge’s ruling on whether she was capable of standing trial. Brenna doubted the woman would ever see the light of day. John Gar’s hit man had never been found. Probably never would be. Anson remained steadfast by his grandmother’s side. He’d never again contacted Brenna. Thank God for small miracles. Sheba barked sharply. A wave of sickness rolled in Brenna’s stomach at the crunch of tires on the frozen snow outside. Had she ever in her life been this nervous? No. Not when she’d had to recite a poem in fourth grade and vomited on the floor in front of the entire class. Not even the first time she’d slept with Ace. And she’d been plenty panicked at both events. She hurried to the window overlooking the driveway and pulled back the red-checked café curtain in time to see Ace slide out of the Cherokee. www.samhainpublishing.com

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He stretched, the movement giving her a great glimpse of his body. Her lower belly clenched, remembering the feel of his hands on her skin. Would she ever forget the magic in his fingers? Had they driven straight through from Maryland? The passenger door opened and Brenna held her breath and waited for her first look at Kayden. Instead, Naomi climbed out. Ace’s mother looked older, but as slim and proud as she’d been twenty years ago. Naomi opened the back door and scowled. Ace leaned into the SUV. Almost immediately, a tall, slim girl with raven hair emerged from the backseat. Brenna caught her breath. Her daughter was beautiful. Naomi hooked an arm in the crook of Kayden’s elbow, and they all walked toward the porch. The sullen look on Kayden’s face hit Brenna like a punch to the stomach. Even without the sour look, the girl’s stiff posture screamed that she didn’t want to be here. Brenna straightened her spine and walked to the door. Ace’s stomach took a dive when Brenna waved them inside. Since he’d left Spruce Harbor, he’d dreamed about her, remembered her scent, her touch, her soft mouth teasing his bare skin. During the past month, he’d find himself hanging around the house, waiting for her to call Kayden. Answering the phone when she did, just to hear her voice. He stood behind Kayden, his hands curled around her shoulders. During the twelve-hour drive he’d not been able to shake his foreboding about this visit. Brenna’s gaze locked with his for several moments. He tried to read her face. Before he could, she focused on her daughter. She raised a tentative hand to touch Kayden’s hair. Kayden flinched, backing into him. Brenna’s smile vanished. Her gaze flew back to him, a question in her eyes. Damn! He hadn’t expected Kayden to ooze enthusiasm at meeting her mother for the first time, in spite of the long talks they’d had about the circumstances. Yet, he was shocked by her outright rejection.

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Ace squeezed Kayden’s shoulders in warning and gave her a slight nudge. Dragging her feet, she moved into the kitchen. Brenna’s eyes held a “fight or flee” look. He half expected her to bolt out the door. After an awkward silence, Naomi opened her arms and walked across the floor. She enclosed Brenna in a heartfelt embrace. Ace couldn’t hear what his mother said, but tears formed in the corners of Brenna’s eyes. His mother and Brenna had been close at one time. Naomi had taken Brenna’s supposed betrayal as hard as he had. When he’d told her the truth, she’d given him a piece of her mind for keeping the truth from Brenna. Brenna pulled out of Naomi’s arms. “Would anyone like a cup of coffee?” She smiled at Kayden. “There’s soda or orange juice if you’re thirsty.” Kayden’s lips tightened. Even though the mere thought of coffee made Ace sick, he forced a smile. “I’d love one.” “Me, too,” Naomi replied. As if grateful to have a mission, Brenna hurried to the coffeemaker. He noticed her hand shook while pouring the hot liquid into the mugs. “You never told me her farm was so rundown,” Kayden blurted. “I’m surprised it hasn’t been condemned.” One of the full mugs slipped from Brenna’s hand. She yelped when the hot liquid splashed on her jeans. The mug hit the floor and shattered. Anger at Kayden’s rudeness battled with pity. He well understood her anxiety at being thrust into a strange environment. “That’s enough, Kayden,” he said in a calm, but firm voice. He rushed to Brenna. “Are you all right?” He took the second mug from her fingers and set it on the counter. Ignoring her protests, he tugged and yanked at the waistband of her jeans.

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Brenna backed away, tripped and fell on her bottom. “What are you doing? I refuse to strip in front of everyone.” Ace crouched at her side and turned to look at Kayden. He ignored the guilt written all over her face. “The bathroom’s down the hall on the right. Get some cold washcloths. Move!” Naomi crouched on the floor wiping the spilled liquid with a roll of paper towels. Brenna pushed his hands away and tried to rise. “I’m okay. Really.” She choked back a sob. Her flushed face and tears screamed her humiliation. “This will never work, Ace. She hates me.” Ace curved his hand around the back of her neck and drew her close. Could she feel his heart pounding? He’d known this wouldn’t be easy, but had counted on Kayden to behave. He’d obviously underestimated the extent of her fear. His lips brushed Brenna’s forehead. A thrill shot through him when she didn’t stiffen or pull away. “Stop it,” he whispered into her hair. “Kayden doesn’t hate you. She’s just a child. She’s uncertain and afraid of the unknown.” Brenna clutched at his shirt. “What am I going to do?” She tilted her head to look at him. “Can you and Naomi stay? Please,” she pleaded when he opened his mouth to refuse. “Yes, please stay, Daddy.” Ace took the two washcloths Kayden held. “You owe your mother an apology.” Kayden fidgeted with the iPod hanging around her neck. Ace held his breath. Please don’t defy me, Kayden. Not now. Kayden’s gaze remained glued to the floor. “I’m sorry, Brenna. I shouldn’t have said what I did.” Brenna attempted a smile that fell way short of reaching her eyes. He handed the cold washcloths to Brenna. “Go take care of your legs.” He hoped the heavy denim material had kept the burn damage to a minimum.

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Ace rose “I’ll take Kayden upstairs and get another pair of jeans. “Which room is Kayden’s?” “Colin’s old room, but she doesn’t have to—” “Oh, she’ll be staying.” He grasped his daughter’s arm in a firm grip. “Let’s go. You can get your duffle bag later.” On the upstairs landing, Kayden jerked away from his hold. “That hurts.” “I’d like to take you over my knee and paddle your butt.” Kayden’s eyes widened and she backed away. He’d never been so angry with his daughter. He’d be damned if she got away with such behavior. “Do you realize how rude you were to your mother? That you hurt her feelings? After all our talks, I thought you’d show better manners.” Kayden scuffed the toe of her clog on the floor and refused to meet his eyes. “I apologized.” “That’s not the point. Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Her chin quivered in an effort to hold back tears. “Can you and Nuuhkum stay here with me?” Ace clamped his mouth tight before he said something he’d regret. As much as he hated the idea, he had no choice but to be the intermediary between his daughter and the woman he loved. Kayden followed him into her room. His eyes widened at the effort Brenna had expended to make the room special. He sighed, accepting the next two weeks would be two of the longest in his life. Sharing a house with Brenna, day after day and not being able to touch her. He tried one last thing. “How about if Nuuhkum stays with you?” Kayden shook her head, her black hair whipping back and forth. “I need you. What if Brenna doesn’t like me?” “After the way you behaved, I wouldn’t blame her.” Her chin jutted forward, the gesture so like her mother. He sank onto the bed and patted the space beside him. She snuggled next to him. “I’m scared, Daddy.”

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“I know you are,” he whispered into her hair. “So is Brenna. This can’t be easy for her either.” He heard a muffled “I know.” “All of us have to put our best foot forward here. The three of us need to talk and work out the details of the time you’ll spend with Brenna.” Kayden straightened. “But—” He kissed her forehead. “No buts, Kayden. Stay up here and think about how you can help make this work. I’ll talk to Nuuhkum and let you know my decision about whether or not I’ll stay.” Ace wasted no extra time in Brenna’s room. The very essence of her surrounded him. He grabbed a pair of jeans hanging on the Boston rocker and got the hell out. He walked in to see Naomi sitting at the kitchen table alone. “Where’s Brenna?” “In the bathroom. She said to leave her jeans outside the door.” “Is she okay?” Naomi’s brows rose. “Now what do you think?” “I imagine she wishes the ground would open and swallow her whole.” “Exactly. What are you going to do about it?” He attempted a smile. “Do I have a choice? I stay.” At a soft knock, Brenna opened the bathroom door a crack and held out her hand. Humiliation rolled off her in waves. “Thanks, I’ll be out in a minute.” She finished rubbing the burn ointment on her thighs. If Ace had made the decision to leave, then Kayden should leave also. What would it accomplish to force the girl to spend time here? She splashed water on her face, patted it dry and ran a brush through her hair. Feeling better at her decision, she opened the door and walked straight into Ace. “Oh. I didn’t realize you were still out here.” She glanced around the hall and breathed easier that he was alone. “Where’s Kayden?” 240

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“In her room.” “You shouldn’t punish her, Ace. She can’t help how she feels.” “No, she can’t. But she doesn’t have to be rude. She knows better.” “I’ve been think—” “Can we go somewhere—” A nervous giggle popped out of her mouth when they both spoke at once. Ace rested a hand on the wall close to her ear. “You go first.” Brenna sidled away from his heat. “I think it’s a bad idea to force this visit on Kayden.” A shiver ran through her at his intense look. “A short while ago, you asked me to stay. Kayden’s happy with the idea.” She licked her lips. “I’m going to be up front, Ace. The emotional ups and downs of the last few months have left me spinning. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to handle Kayden right now.” Ace dropped his hand. “I understand. If you’d rather we leave, just say so. I’ll do whatever you want. I’m willing to spend the two weeks here so you and Kayden can get acquainted, or we can give it another try when she’s older.” “No, don’t go just yet. I’m grateful you’re willing to stay. If she doesn’t warm up during the next two weeks, I’ll stop pushing to be part of her life.” “Hurry, Brenna. We’re going to start the tape,” Kayden hollered from the living room. Brenna’s mouth watered at the smell of melting butter and fresh popped corn. “Be right there.” She poured the hot butter over the bowl of popcorn and helped herself to a few pieces. The visit had been a success. By the end of the second day, everyone had relaxed. A horseback ride into the barrens had broken the ice.

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They’d stopped at the cabin for lunch and didn’t return to the farm until almost dark. A love for horses had given everyone a common ground. Brenna pushed aside the twinge in her heart at the thought of Ace and Kayden leaving. Tomorrow they’d pick up Naomi, who was visiting friends on the Passamaquoddy Reservation, and drive home to Maryland. She shook off the sadness. Grabbing a roll of paper towels, she returned to the living room. “What movie did you two decide on?” Brenna smiled at the twinkle in her daughter’s blue eyes. Kayden had inherited Brenna’s blue eyes. The twinkle came from her father. “Not a movie. We found an old tape of you and Dad when you were in high school.” Brenna tripped on the rug and pitched forward. Ace caught the bowl of popcorn. Why hadn’t that tape been thrown away? Would she be able to watch her and Ace together back when nothing existed in the world except their love for each other? What would Kayden think? Ace’s eyes held a challenge. She remembered that look well. Double dog dare you, Brenna. Since Kayden sat in the middle, Brenna plunked the bowl of popcorn in her lap and sank onto the cushions. “Let it roll.” Ace pushed a button on the remote and after a few tracking problems, the tape played. The smell of buttery popcorn that had been so enticing in the kitchen now turned her stomach. Unable to tear her eyes away from the TV, she dug her fingers into the sides of the cushion as the tape ran. “Is that you, Daddy?” Kayden asked, her mouth full of popcorn. “‘Fraid so.” The hoarseness in Ace’s voice told Brenna that he, too, shared her turmoil of being thrust into the past. Memories of that Fourth of July night flashed through her mind. They’d been seventeen. A friend of Ace’s had been in charge of the camcorder. She squirmed, seeing on the TV screen how in love they’d been. That night she’d wanted to shout her happiness to the world.

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Kayden poked Ace in the side. “Gee, Daddy. Having a hard time keeping your hands to yourself?” A piece of popcorn stuck in Brenna’s throat. The temperature in the room was cool, yet her face burned. She blurted, “Let’s play Monopoly.” Ace seconded Brenna’s suggestion. “Great idea.” He shut off the video. “Gee, just when we were getting to the good part,” Kayden grumbled. Brenna ruffled her daughter’s hair. “The game’s in your room.” Kayden rolled her eyes. “Okay. I can take a hint. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Ace touched Brenna’s hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t remember what was on the tape until it started.” She shrugged. “No harm done. Kayden got a kick out of it.” “Yeah. I’ll never hear the end of it.” Brenna’s stomach leap-frogged. She was all a-twitter, the way she’d been around Ace as a teenager. Back then she didn’t have a clue what the restlessness meant. Now she did and wasn’t sure what to do about it “What does the future hold for us?” Ace asked. “I wish I knew. In my fantasy, I saw the three of us getting along, being an instant family.” She tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. “Now I see that’s not going to happen.” “What do you mean? I think things are progressing well.” Brenna turned her body and leaned against the couch arm. “I agree with you about Kayden spending too much time in Spruce Harbor. I won’t tolerate this town treating her as if she’s nothing more than a halfbreed.” Ace smiled. “Thank you for that. You could move to Maryland.” The suggestion teased her. “I’m not sure that’d be a good thing right now.” Ace’s expression turned stoic. “I thought we’d moved beyond the past lies and hurts. Was I wrong?”

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“No. Not at all. It’s nothing to do with the past. It’s me. I’m carrying enough baggage to fill two airliners. Until I can get rid of it, I’m useless to anyone else.” He cupped her chin and leaned closer. “Let me help you.” She squeezed his hand. “You can’t. No one can. I have to do it myself. Kayden skipped into the room. “Here it is. I’ll be the banker.” Ace threw off the blankets and swung his feet off the bed to the floor. He’d tossed and turned for two hours. Enough was enough. He put on his pants, pulled a sweater over his head and grabbed his cross-country ski boots. Without a sound, he slipped out of his room and crept downstairs. The full moon gave enough light enough in his room to read. Since he couldn’t sleep, he’d go for a long ski. Maybe when he got back he’d be tired enough to catch a few z’s before they headed home. He stepped outside at the same time that a massive black cloud shaped like a cruise missile slipped across the sky. Brenna’s voice came from his right. “Remember how we used to sit for hours watching clouds sail by?” He’d already sensed her presence. “I remember.” “I came out to check the horses. A ski sounds wonderful. Want company?” “Up to you. Company’s always nice on a night like this. Let’s stay close to the farm in case Kayden wakes.” Ace listened to the sounds of the night as they put on their skis. Wind whispered through the nearby hemlocks. The sound of water turning to ice on the farm pond echoed in the air like the crack of a rifle. “Ready?” Ace nodded and Brenna pushed off, easily gliding on the powdered snow. Ace kept his gaze pinned to Brenna’s slim body as he skied behind her. This was it. The end. He questioned his decision to spend these two

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weeks here. Granted, Kayden had relaxed and seemed to genuinely accept and like her mother. Emotionally, he was a wreck. The video had been the icing on the cake. Watching Brenna’s hands caress his arm, his thigh. Seeing her lean over and feather kisses across his neck. His arm had curved around her ribcage, hand resting directly under her breast. His pants grew tight, remembering how his thumb used to stray over her breast, trying to find her nipple. Brenna’s revelation tonight that she wasn’t ready to be a family had hurt, even though he knew where she was coming from. Was it time for him to move on, as his younger co-workers would say? No. He couldn’t fathom his life without Brenna. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice they were back in front of the farm. Brenna stopped and he plowed into her. They both went down in the snow. “Jesus, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” Laughing, she untangled her skis and poles. “No, of course not. Getting a little rusty, are you?” “Not paying attention,” he muttered as he unsnapped his skis and pushed into a sitting position. He loved her musical laugh, and the bright sparkle in her eyes. She caught her breath, the laughter stopped. The hunger in her eyes matched his. Without thought of rejection, he caressed her cheek. “You want me,” he breathed. A worried frown marred her brow. “Yes, but—” His fingers tightened. He dropped his hand and rolled onto his back to stare at the huge moon. Cold moon, or frozen over moon, as the Cree called a December full moon. She scrambled to her knees beside him. “Ace, how can I make you understand?” He sat up and gripped her shoulders. “You think I don’t know how you feel? To have so much pain inside that you’re afraid you’ll split open? You think I don’t know what it’s like to have to breathe but you can’t because your lungs won’t work? Or walk around half alive, wishing tomorrow would never come?” He shook her and not even the fear in her www.samhainpublishing.com

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eyes made him stop ranting. “I do know, damn it. It’s a feeling I live with day in and day out.” “You’re no stranger to pain. We’ve both had more than our share. I want nothing more than to pack a suitcase, say to hell with the farm and leave with you tomorrow.” Hope sparked. “Then do it.” She leaned close and covered his mouth with her lips. Before he could respond, she pulled away. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready. That’s a promise.” A promise. Ace’s spirits soared. Brenna never broke a promise. He’d give her the space she needed if it killed him. He squeezed her hand. “I’ll be waiting.” In mutual silence they got to their feet. Brenna removed her skis. Neither spoke as they entered the house. Brenna was flipping pancakes at the stove when Kayden came into the kitchen at seven o’clock the next morning. “Hope you’re hungry.” “Starved, actually. Dad will be right down. He wants to pack the car before we eat.” Brenna’s smile slipped. “Do you know what time you’re leaving?” Ace’s voice came from the other side of the room. “We need to be on the road in an hour. I told my mother we’d pick her up at nine. Her friend lives a good forty minutes away.” Kayden groaned. “It’s such a long ride back to Maryland.” Ace put down their bags and tweaked her nose. “You’ll sleep through most of it, like you always do.” Brenna heaped the pancakes on a serving dish and put them in the warm oven with the platter of bacon. She set the table and poured two mugs of coffee, then set a glass of orange juice in front of Kayden. “Wow. Did you ever work in a restaurant?” Brenna laughed at Kayden’s question. “No. At least not yet, but you never know. I might give it a shot someday.” 246

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Kayden chatted during breakfast seemingly unaware of the sadness in the air. Brenna bit the bullet and asked Ace the question she’d thought about all night. “Have you any idea when you’ll be able to bring Kayden for another visit?” He reached over and cuffed his daughter under the chin. “Depends on how well she does in school. If her grades stay up there, she can come during her Easter vacation.” “Can’t Brenna come visit us?” Brenna’s fork clattered on the table. “Sorry,” she mumbled and picked it up. When Ace didn’t answer, Brenna took Kayden’s hand. “I’d love to come see you sometime, but not this winter. I have a lot of loose ends to tie up before I can take a vacation.” “Oh.” It warmed Brenna’s heart to hear the disappointment in her daughter’s voice. They’d crossed the first hurdle—getting to know each other. Perhaps now it’d be an easier climb to deepen their relationship. Ace insisted on doing the dishes. As soon as he finished, he told Kayden to say goodbye while he took the luggage outside. Kayden hugged her with a ferocity that surprised Brenna. “Thanks for everything. You’re the best.” “You, too.” Brenna took Kayden by the shoulders and kissed her forehead. “I love you, sweet pea. Don’t forget to write.” Blue eyes so much like her own welled with tears. “I will. I’ll call, too. I wish you had a computer so we could talk every day.” Ace honked the horn. Kayden planted a quick kiss on Brenna’s check and ran outside. Brenna followed. Ace rolled down his window. The hunger in his eyes matched her own. “Keep in touch,” he said before backing out of the driveway. With a thick lump in her throat, Brenna watched them drive away until the SUV crested the hill.

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She grabbed the telephone book and sat at the table, jotting down some numbers from the yellow pages. She dialed the first number on her list. “Hello. This is Brenna McKenzie. I live on the Cutler Road in Spruce Harbor. I’d like to put my farm on the market.”

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Chapter Twenty-four The farm went faster than Brenna had thought possible. She’d sold everything except her clothes. Barb and Bill Jones, a couple who lived a few miles up the road, agreed to board the horses, and she’d moved into the cabin for the winter. Every day her heart grew lighter as she learned to shed her baggage. She’d forgiven both her parents. Even told them so at a cemetery visit. Once the words left her mouth, she saw a glimmer of happiness in her future. She drew a huge black X through January 28 on the calendar. Another month and spring would be around the corner. She looked forward to the birds chirping and the sweet smell of the blueberry flowers. On clear days she spent time watching white puffy clouds race across the sky and remembered how she and Kayden had spent an entire day cloud-watching. They’d found monsters, dragons and knights. Just like she and Colin had done as children. Tomorrow, she planned to visit Chris. Almost fully recovered, he was raring to go. Chris and Trent were the only two she’d miss when she left this town. Over the past few weeks, she’d done little but think about moving to Maryland. Sure, there’d be problems. Wasn’t life always full of problems? She had faith that she and Ace would work out all the kinks. For better or for worse. They’d seen the worse. The time had come to make a better life with their daughter…a happier life. Brenna fingered the cell phone sitting on the table beside her coffee mug, tempted to call her daughter. She wondered if there was a message from Kayden. Due to the lack of electricity, she used the phone for www.samhainpublishing.com

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emergencies. She pushed a button and swallowed disappointment when the “no new messages” icon flashed.

a

lump

of

Sheba growled deep in her throat. Brenna grabbed the binoculars and hurried to the open the door. Several snow machines’ engines whined not too far away. The only visitors she’d had were Trent and Don Mercer. Trent tried to stop by at least once a week. He’d accepted her love for Ace, even encouraged her to go to him. Don had showed up to offer a second apology for barging into the cabin. Surprisingly, he’d been stone cold sober. Perhaps he’d make it this time. The dog yipped sharply behind her. She scrambled to put on her boots, then grabbed a heavy wool coat off the peg by the stove. For self-preservation, she propped her shotgun against the wall, just to the left of the door. She stepped outside, leaving the door ajar. Easy enough to reach in and grab the gun, if needed. The hit man Ethel hired had never been found. Chances of him seeking her out were slim, but self-preservation had her taking precautions. Three snow machines sped across the barrens. Brenna almost yelled with excitement when she recognized the first rider. She controlled the urge to jump up and down and stifled her desire to rush forward. Why hadn’t Ace told her they were coming? Kayden hopped off her sled and ran full force at Brenna, a huge grin on her face. “Guess what? We’re on our way to Canada for a week. Wanna come with us?” “What a great surprise. Why didn’t you call to let me know?” These three people were her family now. What if she somehow screwed up and made their lives miserable? Brenna looked over Kayden’s head at Ace and Naomi, who’d pulled up behind Kayden. She swallowed hard. “I don’t think that’s possible, sweet pea. I’ve got Sheba to take care of and I wasn’t expecting—” Kayden turned to her father. “Sheba can come. Right, Daddy?” “Don’t see why not. There’s plenty of room.”

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Brenna held Ace’s hot gaze while keeping an arm around her daughter’s shoulder. She feasted on the man she’d loved for fifteen years. He’d kept his hair short. She tore her gaze away from his mouth. Any doubts that he loved her melted like spring snow. She had all she could do not to throw herself into his arms. “I’d like to talk to you.” Naomi stepped forward and took Kayden’s hand. “Come on, let’s go for a ride so your parents can talk.” Ace’s breathing quickened. Had Brenna changed her mind? Damn, he shouldn’t have let Kayden talk him into stopping here. Should have waited for Brenna to join him in Maryland. Perhaps she wasn’t ready. Brenna took his arm. “Come in where it’s warm.” Once inside, Brenna bustled around the small room, straightening chairs, rearranging the salt and pepper shakers on the table, antsy as a two-year-old who’d eaten too much sugar. Ace cut to the chase. “What do we need to talk about? Have you changed your mind?” “Would you like some coffee?” “No. Coffee is the last thing I want. Spill it. The suspense is killing me.” His voice came out sharper than he’d intended. She flinched as if he’d struck her. “Did you get the money I sent?” Ace pulled a chair away from the table and sat. The last time he’d seen Brenna this nervous, she’d been pregnant. That night it took her almost an hour to tell him. Was she pregnant again? The possibility lifted his spirits. “I did. I opened a college fund account for Kayden.” “What a good idea.” She grabbed a broom and starting to sweep the floor. “You’re as nervous as a mouse in a roomful of snakes. Sit and tell me what’s on your mind.” She inhaled deeply and blurted, “I’m ready, Ace. Ready to be with you and Kayden.”

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The words ricocheted inside his head. God, how long he’d waited to hear this. “Be sure, Brenna. I love you enough to wait. Please don’t give me hope to just snatch it away.” Brenna tossed the broom aside and moved forward to kneel at his feet. “The past is behind us. Through all the tragedy, memories of you kept me sane. We have something to build on. Our love and our daughter. She needs both of us as much as I need you. I’ve made peace with my family. Now it’s time for me to start anew with you and Kayden. And Naomi, too. From the time I met her, she’s been like my mother.” The heat of her hands on his thigh burned through his jeans. His pulse pounded with a raw need to grab happiness with the woman who was meant to be his. “Get up. My love has been yours from the beginning.” He tugged her to his lap and rode the tidal wave of emotion churning inside. Brenna’s breath tickled his neck. “We’ll make it this time. I feel it.” His forehead rested against hers. “Your spirit runs through me with the blood in my veins. Every night for the past two months I’ve lain in bed and imagined your warmth against my side.” Ace’s cell shattered the moment. Brenna slid off his lap. “It’s Naomi,” he said. To give him privacy, Brenna walked to the other side of the cabin. Ace tossed the phone on the table. “I’ve got some bad news.” She hurried to his side. “What happened? Are they all right?” “Yeah. They’re on their way to Canada.” He poured himself a cup of coffee and plunked the mug on the table before he sank into a chair. “It’s their way of getting us back together.” Brenna slid her arms around his shoulders, breathing his unique scent of balsam and fir. Her mouth curved into a smile when his breathing grew ragged. She ran a hand down his arm, leaned around to tease his lips with her tongue. “Didn’t you tell them we are together?”

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He pulled her until she sat on his thighs. “And ruin this opportunity to be alone with you?” He lowered his mouth, and his tongue played with hers. His fingers tangled in her hair. “I love you. Let’s get married and have a dozen more kids.” Brenna drew back, widening her eyes in mock shock. “I was thinking maybe one or two.” His fingers fumbled with the snap on her jeans. “Fine. However many you want.” “I want to leave today. Start our new life.” “Jesus, Brenna. Since when did you stop living for the moment? I’m near exploding here.” Ace pushed her off his lap and rose. “What are you doing?” “Getting my mother and Kayden back here so we can go home.” Brenna giggled. Excitement bubbled in her chest. She almost pinched herself to make sure that she wasn’t dreaming. From this day on, she’d never be alone again. For the first time in her life, she’d have a family and a home filled with love. She moved closer and tugged his shirt from inside his pants. Ran her hands over his taut skin. Ace held the phone to his ear. “Stop it,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Kayden? Tell Naomi to turn around and come back. We’re going back to Maryland.” There was a slight pause, then Ace grinned. “Yep, your mother’s coming, too.” He pulled the phone away from his ear so she could hear Kayden’s happy scream . “Way to go, Dad!” Ace’s eyes smoldered, making Brenna hot. “Kayden? Tell Nuuhkum to drive slow. Dammit, I know she does—” He broke off and took a deep breath. “Kayden, listen to me. Tell her to drive slower. See you in a while.”

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He disconnected the call, caught Brenna around the waist and tossed her on the bed. She peppered his chest with kisses. “Our time has come. Twin souls, Ace. Never forget.” He smiled down at her. “Not a chance in hell. No more talk.” Brenna moaned her agreement.

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About the Author To learn more about Pam Champagne, please visit www.pamchampagne.net. Send an email to Pam at [email protected] or join her Yahoo! group for some fun with other readers as well as Pam! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/pamchampagnenews/

Spirits and killers and spells, oh my! This witch must confront them all…or die.

Every Witch Way but Dead © 2007 B. Ella Donna Psychic since childhood, Angelica sees and hears spirits. Up until now, their messages were benign, but they’ve become mysterious and menacing. Premonitions of an impending murder along with recollections of a past life haunt Angelica’s nights. Dreams of strange rituals and a vaguely familiar handsome stranger tug at her emotions. Death takes the spotlight at an Arthur’s Graile concert. The internationally known pagan band is just embarking on its summer tour. Angelica sees her visions play out on the stage when a back-up singer is brutally murdered. And this is only the beginning. Death is not leaving Oceanview without more victims, and it has its sights on Angelica Kane. Enjoy the following excerpt for Every Witch Way but Dead: Peace fell upon us for the time being and brought with it our Fourth of July extravaganza. The neighborhood was dressed up gaudily for the grand festivities. For the past five years, we’d celebrated with a massive block party and, from what the neighbors said, it’d been going on long before we moved in. For fifteen years, this quaint neighborhood had been commemorating the Fourth with total élan. Friends and family of all our neighbors traveled here by land and sea. Boats arrived days in advance to see one of the best fireworks displays ever. “Come on honey, the show’s starting,” Jon called to me. I headed out to join him, forgetting all about combustible sparklers and manifestations of Isis.

The sun dipped low in the heavens, splashed in hues of magenta and tangerine with the promise of a glorious sunset colorful enough to rival even the most extravagant fireworks. We ate, drank, danced, traveled with a guitar and magical brew of Jell-O shots with the dying light of the began.

and even sang. Marc and Ronnie always flute and that, along with Marisa’s little made everyone’s tensions slowly fade, along sun. As the skies dimmed, the real show

M-80s boomed intermittently and we became used to the occasional blasts, sounding as it must have so many years ago during the Revolutionary War. The dessert portion of the party took place at Marisa and Rich’s. The kids floated from house to house, visiting friends, lighting sparklers and grabbing boxes of Wolf packs, tiny bags of gun powder that snapped when thrown against the cement. My mom opted to stay at Casa Del Kane with Ivy. Amber did her level best to avoid me. Friends, cousin Vinny included, breezed from house to house sampling foods along the way. It was a veritable all you can eat buffet, and did we eat! Sitting on the back deck swing, we watched the parade of vibrant colors flash across the midnight canvas of sky, oohhing and ahhhing with each explosion of color. Perhaps in retrospect it was the alcohol or the gentle swinging that lulled me into a spurious veil of tranquility. My eyes felt heavy as I leaned back into my husband’s warm and gentle embrace and peered at the light show before me. It felt so serene. I was without a care in the world. I let my guard down. That was not a good thing. Like the gentle waters swirling down into an ever-narrowing channel, my spirit glided effortlessly into the watery depths of the astral worlds. I’d become an amorphic being, swimming absentmindedly along. My consciousness was free to roam and it took great pleasure in doing so as

it alit from thought to thought, none of which was of any great consequence. The gentle swaying, mesmerizing in its rhythmic cadence, was like a metronome keeping time. Tick-tock. Back and forth. The rhythm was particularly hypnotic. I listened to the fireworks overhead, the swishing and sizzling sounds as they took off into the velvety night sky. The popping sounds announced dollops of surreal colors as they sparked the darkness. The gentle waves lapped on the shore and kept time with the motion of the swing, but alas, all good things come to an end. My nirvana was always uncomfortably short. I first became aware of a burning sensation all along my upper body. Heat stretched from my arms down into my chest like a forest fire in desiccated woods. It was excruciatingly painful to take in even the slightest bit of air. Fear clutched my heart with a gelid grip. Then I plunged into blackness. My sense of touch gradually returned to me, over time that seemed to stretch from slow motion to abruptly snapping back to real time. I felt myself dragged, my legs chafed by what felt like gritty sandpaper. My hair was yanked at every few feet. I realized I was in the dunes with ragged shells and pointy, stiff beach grass all around. My feet were bare and bleeding. I tuned into the constant boom that erupted at distinct intervals, my eyes focusing in and out, flashes of light and color unexpectedly illuminated before me. A sickly sweet smell bombarded my nose as I tried to catch my breath. Searing pain erupted alongside my head. I was thrown down and collided with what must have been a rock or a chunk of driftwood. My warm blood trickled down my neck and shoulder. His face was suddenly before me, hovering ever so close, the smell of alcohol strong on his breath. His

familiar blue eyes now a dark and stormy gray, he intimately whispered in my ear. “Why did you have to leave me?” he muttered. Then he turned to ice. “You’re just like her, you think you’re too good? Bitch! You used me and then tossed me aside. You're all alike.” His lips curled in a maleficent grin. “I asked you not to go. That wasn’t a smart move, I warned you, but you refused to listen. Now it’s my turn. How do you like being used up and spit out, huh? You turned my world upside down and for what?” I tried to speak, but my lips felt numb, like when I’d had too much Novocain at the dentist. All I could do was make soft, moaning sounds. He was not giving an inch. I looked directly at him, but his face phased in and out of focus. All I could see were those penetrating blue eyes. His left hand grabbed my wrists and held them above my head as he straddled me. His other hand reached behind him. One, two, three. Tick, tock, tick. Flashes of gold, white and green streaks lit the night sky. Then the glimmer of silver steel caught the reflections of color. “It’s all your fault, witch.” And down came his solid, muscled arm. With one swift and effortless swipe, the kaleidoscope of colors faded to black. With a profound whoosh, an intense, swirling energy thrust me back from my ethereal body to my physical one. I’d barely opened my eyes when the uncontrollable urge to empty the contents of my stomach took over. I pushed my adoring and frantic husband out of harm’s way while I retched all over the deck. “Oh, my gods! Get her some water and a cold rag,” Ouida ordered. She pushed my sweat-soaked hair out of my face and soothed me as my own mother used to when I was a child. Marisa ran back with a bottle of Kabala water, saved for emergencies of the metaphysical ilk. “Drink up,” Ouida whispered.

Worry draped itself around my friends. Rich came over with rolls of paper towels, the garden hose and a bucket of environmentally safe cleaners to wash away the mess I made. I apologized profusely, both completely embarrassed and petrified by what I’d seen and done. Jon helped me up and led me into Marisa’s cool, cheerful kitchen. I sat at her breakfast nook with Ouida right beside him. I was shaking. “The spirits came to your wife tonight,” she quietly informed Jon as she wiped away a small trickle of blood by my temple.

Cocktail hour will never be the same.

A Man for Marley © 2007 Arianna Hart Marley Sullivan is willing to do almost anything to claim her inheritance, even if it means putting up with sexy Hunter O’Malley for six months. Marley has worked hard for years turning O’Malley’s Pub into a New York hot spot. This is her chance to finally own it; all she has to do is live, work, and not fall in love with Hunter. Racecar driver Hunter O’Malley thinks being stuck working at his family’s bar for six months is a fate worse than death. If he could get Marley to stop bristling at him and use her ever so kissable mouth for something other than ordering him around, it might not be so bad. But when heated tempers lead to hot lust, will six months be long enough after all? Enjoy the following excerpt for A Man for Marley: Hunter watched the scene with a mixture of curiosity and repulsion. Almost like one would view a car wreck. He’d wondered what the mysterious Vivian looked like. The reality was almost frightening. Marley stood behind the bar, clutching a dishtowel like she was holding on for dear life. Her eyes were wary, and she made no move to come out from behind the safety of the bar. Hunter looked back at the woman whom Marley called mother with such distaste. On first impression he could see why. He had seen her type around the racetrack plenty of times. She had to be in her late forties, early fifties, but dressed like she was in her teens. Vivian wore skintight Capri pants in a leopard print and high-heeled sandals. Her black shirt was at least two sizes too small for her sagging figure and it had an oval cut out to show off her cleavage. On a younger

woman the shirt would have been suggestive. On Vivian all it did was emphasize her losing battle with gravity. There was no resemblance between mother and daughter that he could see but it was hard to tell from the amount of cosmetics Vivian wore. She looked like she’d applied her makeup with a trowel. Her eye shadow was caked up to her viciously tweezed eyebrows and she had fake eyelashes that would make a drag queen proud. Her hair was bleach-blonde, sprayed and teased to about a foot above her head. Hunter wondered what miracle of modern chemistry could keep that much hair standing so high in this heat and humidity. His mind kept coming back to the mystery of how this woman could have produced a daughter like Marley. “Aren’t you going to give me a hug? I came in person to offer my condolences because I couldn’t get you on the phone.” She clattered her way into the pub. Hunter could smell her musky perfume before she got within three feet of him. When she got to where Marley stood behind the bar, she dropped her enormous pocketbook on the counter and leaned over as if to embrace her daughter. Marley stood stiff and frozen and made no effort to return the gesture. “So what can I do for you, Vivian?” Marley’s voice was ice cold. “Oh, nothing, I just wanted to see how you were holding up now that the old man is six feet under.” She opened her purse and dug around in it for several seconds, missing the look of pain and suspicion on Marley’s face. Hunter didn’t. “I’m holding up fine so far. Now why are you really here?” “Is that any way to talk to your mother?” “It wouldn’t be, if you were a real mother. But I know you and you don’t do anything without a reason. So I’ll ask you again, Vivian, why are you here?” “Not a real mother? Now that’s a fine how do you do! You know I didn’t have to have you, didn’t have to ruin my figure carrying you

around for nine months.” She dug a pack of cigarettes out of her purse and put one to her heavily painted lips. “Do you think it was easy raising a kid all by myself? Hell no, it wasn’t easy, ungrateful brat. Always ‘Mommy, I’m hungry’ or ‘Mommy, I need clean clothes’ or ‘Mommy, when are you going to be home?’ Nag, nag, nag. That’s all you ever did as a kid and when I come to see you in your time of sorrow, how do you treat me? Like I’m some beggar on the street. I don’t have to stay here and be treated like this you know. I should just walk right out of here without looking back.” She made no move to leave. “No one’s stopping you. It wouldn’t be the first time you left without a second thought.” Hunter couldn’t believe the drama unfolding. Everyone in the pub carefully kept their eyes averted from the scene but he could almost feel their ears straining to hear every word. With the way Vivian was carrying on, they didn’t have to strain hard. “Oh God, can’t you get over that already? So I kicked you out. You landed on your feet didn’t you? It was probably the best thing I ever did for you. They even have a name for it now, ‘tough love’.” Vivian dug around in her purse some more. “Hey, sugar, do you have a light? I can’t seem to find mine.” Vivian gave a syrupy smile to Hunter. It was enough to make him queasy. He reached into the ashtray between the two of them and slid the pack of matches her way. “Thanks, handsome.” She took her time lighting the long cigarette despite the no smoking laws. “I didn’t come here to fight with you, Marley. I’ve missed you. You don’t come around, you don’t call, how am I supposed to know how you’re doing if I don’t stop by where you work?” “Come off it, Vivian. How am I supposed to visit you even if I wanted to? I never know where or with whom you’re living. The only time you ‘miss’ me is when you’re between boyfriends or out of money. Which is it this time?”

“That hurts.” Vivian wiped her eyes, although Hunter noticed that no tears marred her makeup. “How can you say something like that to me? Your own flesh and blood. I came here for you and you treat me like this?” Vivian turned to Hunter again. Tom had made an escape to a nearby table. Close enough to help but out of the line of fire. Hunter wished he had been as quick as the old codger when Vivian addressed him. “Do you hear how she’s talking to me? Would you treat your mother like this?” “I think this is between you and Marley,” Hunter said, trying to stay out of the argument. “Nonsense, I make it a point to always listen to an attractive man. So tell me, when you see your mother, do you insult her and treat her like dirt?” “My mother’s dead.” He hoped that would be the end of the conversation. He hoped in vain. “Oh you poor thing!” Vivian tottered over to him and pulled his head to her ample bosom with surprising strength. Hunter peeked at Marley, pleading silently for help. It was a battle not to suffocate from an overload of the woman’s perfume. The more he tried to pull away, the harder she pressed him to her pillow-like breasts. He couldn’t think of a tactful way out of the situation, and he was starting to get desperate. “Would you let him go for heaven’s sake?” Marley snapped, the disgust in her voice clear. “He’s young enough to be your son.” “Some men like mature, experienced women,” Vivian said, letting Hunter up for air. “Anyway, I was just offering him my sympathy.” “That’s not the only thing you were offering,” Marley muttered loud enough for Hunter to hear. “So what’s it going to take this time?” “I’m sure I have no idea what you mean?” Vivian sniffed with an air of one who’s been sorely injured.

“Come off it. How much money is it going to cost me to keep you from making more of a scene at my bar?”

Samhain Publishing, Ltd. It’s all about the story… Action/Adventure Fantasy Historical Horror Mainstream Mystery/Suspense Non-Fiction Paranormal Red Hots! Romance Science Fiction Western Young Adult www.samhainpublishing.com