“You would have,” she said, knowing it was true. “You would have killed your father to protect Lillie.”

“Don’t make it sound like more than it was. Bart should have died years ago.”

“Still.”

He dropped his hands to her shoulders. “I’m not a hero. Don’t make me into one. Bart was an evil man. I’m glad he’s gone.”

She was, too. Maybe it was wrong, but she was willing to live with the flaw.

“You saved us and I’ll never forget that.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on. Let me feed you. We’ll both feel better after you eat.”

She expected him to smile or make a joke. But he did neither and he didn’t move.

“I can’t do this,” he told her.

“What? Did you eat already? That’s fine. The casserole will...”

His dark eyes had a distant expression. As if he was really somewhere else. And then she knew. He wasn’t talking about dinner. He was talking about leaving her.

“No,” she said, careful to keep her voice low so she wouldn’t wake Lillie. So she wouldn’t cry out, because once she started, she would never stop. It was too soon, she thought desperately. She didn’t have anything left to get through him leaving. “No, you can’t. You can’t.”

She knew she was pleading, that when it came to the man in front of her, she had no pride. “You said you loved me.”

“I meant it. I do love you, and Lillie. But I can’t risk hurting you.”

“You won’t.”

“I will.” He lowered his arms to his sides. “Somehow, somewhere, I’ll drop my guard.”

“You’re not your father. You’re nothing like him.” She had to convince him. He had to understand; otherwise, he would go and she didn’t think she could survive that.

“I won’t take the chance.”

She felt tears forming. She would have sworn she was cried out, but obviously not. Pain tore through her, making her want to fall to the floor. She folded her arms across her chest, holding herself together as best she could.

“We need you,” she whispered. “Doesn’t that mean anything? I love you and Lillie loves you and we need you.”

He stiffened, as if he’d been struck. Or stabbed. She wanted to be grateful for his obvious pain, but she was suffering too much herself.

“Justice, don’t. Please, you can’t walk away. This is where you belong, with us. We’re a family.”

He drew her against him. For a second, she thought she’d won. She allowed relief to relax her as she breathed in the scent of him.

He drew back and stared into her eyes. “I will love you forever,” he told her.

Anger joined pain. She hung on to the rage because it was strong and right now she needed that strength.

“You’re lying,” she said coldly. “If you loved me you would stay.”

“It’s not that simple,” he told her, then turned and walked out of her life.

* * *

“WHAT WAS I thinking?” Ford asked as he leaned back against the sofa in Justice’s suite and sipped his beer.

When his friend had arrived, Justice had taken a break from packing. When they were done, Justice would throw his suitcases in his car and leave town. It didn’t matter that it was ten at night. He liked the dark. And he needed to be gone. Now that he’d told Patience the truth, he owed it to her to disappear. He didn’t want her to have to worry about running into him.

Justice picked up his own beer and sat across from his friend. “You grew up here. What did you expect?”

A muscle in Ford’s jaw twitched. “Not a hero’s welcome. I can’t step foot outside without someone running up and welcoming me home. Old ladies are hugging me and I swear one of them pinched my butt. My mother checked on me five times last night. Do you know what it’s like to come awake and find your mother hovering over the bed? I’m thirty-three years old, for God’s sake. She needs to leave me alone.”

Under other circumstances, he would have found his friend’s pain amusing. Just not tonight. Not when he’d left Patience earlier that evening, had lingered outside long enough to hear her start to cry and to know he was the cause of her pain.

He wanted to make it better. He wanted to tell her he wasn’t worth it. Only why should she believe him? All he’d done since arriving was screw up her life. He’d allowed her to believe in him. He’d fallen in love with her and let her think it was safe to love him back. Because of him, her daughter had been kidnapped by a madman.

Ford took another swallow of his beer. “She wants to help me find an apartment,” he said with a shudder. “I’ve been on my own for, what, fourteen or fifteen years, I’ve been all over the world, I’ve been to war and my mother thinks I need help finding an apartment.”

“She loves you.”

“She’s smothering me. This has got to stop.”

For the first time since the kidnapping, Justice managed a smile. “It’s been forty-eight hours, bro. You need to suck it up.”

Ford gave him the finger. “She’s one of the many reasons I didn’t want to come back. Having to deal with her and my sisters.” He swore. “They’re growing up to be like her. Dakota and Montana have both offered me a place to stay. Only Nevada seems to get that I might not want to be treated like a runaway ten-year-old.”

“Life is pain.”

Ford looked at him over the bottle. “You’re not very sympathetic.”

“I have my own troubles.”

“Why? You’re a hero, too. You took on your old man and won.”

“You shot him.”

“We can’t all be lucky.” Ford’s dark eyes studied him thoughtfully. “Well, hell. You’re leaving.”

“I can’t stay.”

“Sure you can, but you don’t want to.” He frowned. “No way. I thought people were just talking, but they’re telling the truth, aren’t they? About Patience. You know, they’re saying she’s in love with you.”

Justice tightened his grip on his bottle of beer. “I know,” he said, trying not to flinch. “It’s my fault. I let her think things could work out.”

“Instead you’re going to run.”

Justice looked at his friend. “You saw my father. You know better than most what kind of man does that. You’ve seen what I’m capable of. How thin a line separates us. Would you risk it?”

Ford put down his beer and raised his arms so he could link his fingers behind his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess it depends on how bad you want it. Being with her, I mean. You’re the most controlled guy I know. You’re cool in a fight, deadly in an op. You’re not ruled by emotion. Bart lived on hate. It ate him up until there was no humanity left. You’re not like that.”

“I could be.”

“You could. That’s up to you. Do you love her?”

A question Justice didn’t want to answer. But he was also unwilling to deny his feelings for Patience. He nodded.

“Then think long and hard before you walk away. Once it’s done, it can’t be undone. There’s no going back. From what I hear, Patience is a sensible woman. She raised a kid, started a business. She’s not going to be made a fool of twice. When she’s over you, it’s finished.”

* * *

PATIENCE LEFT WORK at her usual time. It was warm and bright and she couldn’t figure out how the sun could look so happy. As she walked toward her house, she noticed the children playing in the park and the flowers in the planter boxes in front of the various businesses.

Life had gone on. Justice had left two days before and life continued. Look at her. She kept on breathing, kept on moving. She got through her shift, restocked shelves, took Lillie shopping to get ready for camp, cooked dinner and even chuckled at a well-meaning joke or two. She could fake being alive, but on the inside, she was long past dead.

When Ned had left, she’d assumed that was the worst thing that would ever happen to her. Abandoned by her husband. That she would be a single parent with a baby daughter.

She remembered the days had been hard, but more so because she was embarrassed—a failure at marriage. She’d known everyone was feeling sorry for her, and that was difficult. But nothing compared to Justice walking away.

She didn’t care what anyone else was thinking. She didn’t care if people talked or pointed or even laughed. What she cared about was the hole where her heart used to be, the ache that hadn’t finished growing, let alone started fading. She hated the questions in Lillie’s eyes and the sympathy in her mother’s. She wanted it to be a year from now, so she could be over him.

She would never stop loving him—she accepted that. She’d given her heart fully to Justice. Even the most secret places she’d kept from Ned, she’d handed over to Justice. He’d believed in her and encouraged her. He was good and gentle and funny and kind. He was an honorable man, and a case could be made that he had left her for honorable reasons. But that didn’t make the situation any easier to stand.

“There you are!” Felicia hurried up to her, breathing fast. “You left work a few minutes early and I was afraid I wasn’t going to catch you. Come on.”

Before Patience could protest, Felicia was leading her down a familiar street. “We’re going to Isabel’s house.”

“We are? Why?”

“She needs to, uh, speak to you about something. It’s important.”

Patience nodded. In the past few days she’d neglected her friends. She simply didn’t have the strength. But maybe talking about someone else’s problems would help, she thought. Distract her for a few minutes.

Isabel had grown up in a low, one-story ranch house. The kind that sprawled in all directions. Back in school, it had been one of the newer houses in town, with a modern kitchen and big rooms off long hallways. There was a garage to one side and a small apartment above it.

Felicia herded Patience up the walkway. The door opened before they reached it and Isabel stepped onto the long porch.

“How are you doing?” she asked, her voice and expression sympathetic.

“Not great, but I’ll survive.”

Isabel moved close and hugged her, then put her arm around her and led her inside.

It took Patience a second to adjust to the dimness of the living room. When she did, she stared blankly at the dozen or so women sitting on sofas and standing around, talking.

Noelle was there, along with Pia and Charlie, Annabelle, with her baby in her arms, and an even more pregnant Heidi. Evie Stryker was talking to Liz Hendrix. Montana, Dakota and Nevada were clustered together, but looked up when she walked in.

Patience stared at them all. “I don’t understand.”

Jo walked in from the kitchen. She had a pitcher of what looked like margaritas in one hand and a full blender in the other.

“Virgin drinks in here for those of you breeding,” she said, waving the pitcher. “The good stuff’s in the blender. Don’t get it mixed up.”

Jo looked at Patience. “Hey. It sucks, huh? Justice leaving. Don’t worry. We’ll get you good and drunk. We’ll call him names and tomorrow you’ll have a hangover. It’s the beginning of the healing process.”

Then Patience understood. This was what the women in town did for each other. They showed up when times were hard and men were stupid. They ate ice cream and chips and drank margaritas. They told stories of their own breakups and helped each other through the pain. She’d been at countless evenings like this. Honestly, she’d never expected to have to have one of her own. Knowing her friends were looking out for her made her feel both better and worse. While she appreciated the love, she didn’t like the cause. Because when this was all over, Justice would still be gone.

Charlie crossed to her and hugged her. “I can beat him up for you,” she said. “He has skills, but he’s still injured and I have righteousness on my side.”

“Don’t hurt him,” Patience told her friend. “That’s how bad it is. I don’t want you to hurt him.”

Isabel joined the hug and then everyone else was close, holding her and offering help. Somewhere along the way, she started to cry.

* * *

THE FRENCH ALPS in late spring were pretty much the way everyone imagined them, Justice thought as he waited on the narrow streets of the village. There was still snow on the mountain peaks, lambs and calves in the fields and flowers everywhere else.

He stood outside the cheese shop, listening to the conversations around him. The older French couple discussed what to serve for dinner. The two German women were more interested in the hike they would take that afternoon. The air smelled of freshly baked bread and melted chocolate. There were no cars, no jet engines, just the everyday sounds of a simpler life.

Justice had been here before. In the village, with the family. They always requested him when they came to stay in the old family home. There were two children, a boy and a girl, and Justice had known them for several years. He liked the children, enjoyed the duty.

He worked a twelve-hour shift, six days on. He had a room in the large old house. The staff treated him well. Although there was always the threat of danger, he wasn’t in a war zone and he’d found the assignments easy.

Until today. Until the sound of Johann laughing reminded him too much of another child, a girl, also finding joy in life. Until the way Greta smiled at her husband made him think of Patience.

A black Mercedes pulled up at the end of the street. Two men in dark suits got out. Justice immediately started toward them, cataloging as he walked, prepared to pull the gun out of his chest holster if necessary. Then he recognized the man who ran the bank and his brother and waved at them. He returned to his post by the cheese shop and waited while the family shopped.