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Strong hands gripped her from behind. Bridget screamed, trying to break free. They tightened on her arms as she continued to struggle.

She screamed louder as the headlights of the car blinded her.

“No!” she yelled.

“Bridget. Bridget!” A deep voice called her name, but she didn’t have time to respond. She needed to get away.

“Let me go!”

“Bridget. Open your eyes.” Another voice. A familiar one. A friendly one.

She froze, her breathing and heart still in a race with each other, both moving too fast, too hard.

“Open your eyes, darlin’.” Mark’s fingers brushed her cheek and she opened her eyes. “It’s just us.”

Matt was sitting beside her on the couch, attempting to untangle her from a blanket.

Neither man had time to say anything else because at that moment, Rodney burst through the front door, running at full speed, gun in hand, ready to do battle.

“Wait!” Bridget cried, terrified her protector would shoot Mark or Matt. Rodney’s eyes were wild with fear and concern.

“I heard you screaming,” Rodney said.

She shrugged guiltily. “Nightmare.” She’d suffered far too many bad dreams since the night of Lyle’s murder, but none since arriving in Saratoga. She’d foolishly hoped they’d stopped coming.

Rodney slowly lowered his gun, his relieved face revealing a new problem. Before Bridget could consider a solution, Jacob—who’d run into the room right on Rodney’s heels—asked the inevitable question.

“Why do you have a gun, Rodney?”

Rodney turned to face his new friend, and Bridget imagined she could see the spinning wheels in his mind searching for an answer. She wanted to tell the James brothers the truth. She knew with every fiber of her being that she could trust them. She also knew Rodney wouldn’t let her.

“It’s my fault,” she said quickly.

Rodney glanced at her, his face issuing a warning for silence. “Bridget.”

The lie came to her in an instant, falling from her lips far too easily. Six months of hiding, pretending to be someone else, had taught her well. She’d become the queen of subterfuge and half-truths. “I got mixed up with a nasty guy in New York. We dated for a while, but then things turned sort of abusive. I tried to get away from him a few times, but he kept finding me. I even got a restraining order, but that didn’t help either. Rodney and I decided to get out of town, try to let things cool off. I thought we’d be safe here. I mean, Saratoga’s halfway across the country, for God’s sake.”

Rodney nodded as she wove the tale, then added his own pile of crap to the lie. “I got a call from a friend a few days ago. She said she thought Lucian had figured out where we were. That’s why we were going to cut our vacation short.”

Lucian. Judge Thompson. Bridget would have laughed at Rodney’s inventiveness if her heart weren’t aching. Lying to these men who’d offered her nothing less than kindness, friendship and the greatest orgasm of her life didn’t sit well with her.

Throughout their impromptu storytelling, Bridget kept her gaze on Rodney’s face, too afraid to look at Matt and Mark. Were they buying this? What were they thinking?

Finally, she looked. She glanced at Mark, then at Matt. Both of them were wearing identical scowls.

“This is the secret you’ve been hiding?”

Bridget thought there was a hint of disbelief lacing Matt’s tone, but she chalked it up to her own paranoia. She nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell us, Bridget? We would have helped keep you safe.” There was no mistaking the hurt in Mark’s question.

“I was embarrassed,” she said. “I felt stupid.”

Matt grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She wished that were true. She sniffled slightly, surprised by the strong desire to cry. She hadn’t cried once since Lyle’s death. “I’ve done so many things wrong.”

Her conscience collapsed around her. She’d been a fool to put this family in danger, selfish to consider her own desires over their safety. What if Thompson had found her? Had arrived at this house tonight?