Page 48

“Plantains. You’ll love them,” Doyle said. Across the patio, he saw Tia, still with Ethan, frown, shake her head, and get up from the table. Ethan turned to catch her, but she walked away.
Doyle recognized Angry Tia when he saw her. And he must have turned into some kind of emotional support dog, because he couldn’t stop himself.
She had gone around the side of the patio, toward the stairs that led down to the parking area, and stood in the shadows, staring out at Hope House, the wind playing with her hair.
“Tia?”
She startled, then looked over at him. “Oh, it’s you.”
That hurt.“Yes. Are you okay?”
She nodded. “I just... I might have gotten in over my head.” Deep sigh. “Again.”
He stood beside her. A slight fragrance of citrus drifted from her, probably shampoo. He didn’t hate it.
“Okay.” She looked up at him. “Truth is, Ethan Pine asked me to help him look for the lostTridenttreasure. He thinks it’s in a sulfur tunnel on or near Hope House property. And he wants us to go hunting for it.”
“I figured.”
“You did?”
Nowhesighed. “Why is... why are you doing this?”
“So I can have leverage over Sebold. So he’ll give us Kemar and the equipment back?—”
“No. It’s more than that, Tia.”
The words just issued out of him, more impulse than fact. But it stripped a layer of confidence from her face. And then she winced and turned away.
“I’m—” he started.
“Right.”
Oh.
She sighed. “Okay, so, yes, I know I’m stubborn. And I know this is pride, and maybe even fury, but... I just can’t let Sebold win.” Her voice dropped. “I can’t let fear win. Again.”
“Again?”
She gripped the railing, and he squelched the terrible urge to cover her hand with his.
“Fear has... it’s made too many decisions for me.”
He stayed silent.
“Fear made me say yes to my fiancé, and even got him killed.”
What?The words landed, took root. Did she sayfiancé?
“My fiancé was murdered three years ago.” She turned to Doyle, arms folded across her body. “I only found out recently, although, to be honest, I had a gut feeling about it, even though I didn’t tell anyone.”
“How—”
“He was in a house fire. But he was dead before the fire. Shot. Which was frankly a relief because the idea of him dying in a house fire...” She swallowed, shook her head. Then, “Anyway, he was killed because of something I advised him to do. Because I was afraid that he’d fail and... I just couldn’t let that happen.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets, mostly for his own protection against the urge to take her into his arms.
So easily give away his heart.