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But at the memory of what’d happened at the cove, terror still thumped inside. She didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if not for the grumpy stranger who’d rescued her.

She needed a place to go that wasn’t too far from Shadow Cove in case she needed to get to the gallery.

Nobody in her immediate family was in a position to help, but she had lots of cousins nearby. And while she wouldn’t consider staying with her sisters, maybe one of the Wright brothers could give her shelter.

She started with the oldest. Daniel and his wife were moving to Shadow Cove. She wasn’t sure of their timeline, though. She dialed his number and explained that she needed a place to stay—without giving him the whole story.

“We’re on the road,” Daniel said, “but we should be in Maine in a couple of days. We’re staying at Mom and Dad’s until our house is ready. They’re up at camp, so there’s plenty of room for all of us. Call Mom. I’m sure there’s a key hidden somewhere.”

Aunt Peggy and Uncle Roger would welcome her to stay with them, but the camp Daniel mentioned was actually a house on an island a couple of hours north, meaning they wouldn’t be able to pick her up.

Daniel would, if she explained the situation, but that wouldn’t be for days.

Assuming she could get to her aunt and uncle’s house, it would probably be safe. But she’d need to get to her Bronco, which was probably being watched.

For now, that was a dead end.

She thanked Daniel and dialed Michael.

“We’re in DC.” His voice was deep, his words brusque, as usual.

“We’ll be back in Shadow Cove this weekend.

You could stay at our place, but we’ve got someone house sitting while we’re gone.

It’s a refugee family Leila met at the shelter.

I don’t know them well enough that I’d feel comfortable with you staying with them.

Let me see if they can find somewhere else?—”

“No. Don’t do that.” The last thing she wanted was to displace homeless people. “Thanks anyway.”

“Why don’t you stay with your parents?” he asked. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Uh…it’s just… It’s a long story.”

“Huh. Why do I get the feeling it’s a story you need to tell someone?”

“It’s fine. I’ll let you know if I can’t find a place.” She ended that call quickly. Michael was a CIA agent, an expert at uncovering secrets. The last thing she needed was for the whole family to freak out, and Michael would definitely sound the alarm.

She started to dial Sam. The third Wright brother lived in Shadow Cove. He and Eliza would take her in, but with a five-year-old and a new baby on the way, they had enough on their plates. And she wasn’t about to put children in danger to protect herself.

Bryan and Sophie had left for Europe a week earlier, where they planned to work as missionaries to refugees.

Derrick, Jasmine, and the baby were out jet-setting somewhere. Well, flying the jet-setters around.

How did a woman with two parents, four sisters, an aunt and uncle, and six cousins not have anywhere to go?

She could call Grant. The fourth Wright brother and his wife used to be bodyguards, but Brooklynn already knew what he’d say, the same thing Ford had told her—get out of town and stay hidden. He’d demand she come to Coventry, which was farther away than Roger and Peggy’s house.

Grant would pick her up himself or have one of his buddies—this particular cousin knew people everywhere—do it. They’d probably put her in protective custody. She’d be all but handcuffed for her own protection.

She loved Grant and Summer, she did. But his overprotectiveness would drive her batty.

For now, she wasn’t ready to do anything quite so drastic.

What she needed was for those guys, whoever they were, to leave Shadow Cove and stay gone—or, even better, to be caught.

Which left her one option.

The only thing that raised Brooklynn’s anxiety higher than being chased by smugglers was the thought of having to deal with Lenny.

If she reported what happened, her ex-boyfriend, a cop, would find out about it and make sure he was assigned to the case. And then she’d have to rid herself of him all over again.

She met her eyes in the mirror. “You can do this. Just set boundaries and don’t let him push them.”

Except Lenny wasn’t exactly a stay-on-your-side-of-the-line kind of guy.

Seeing only one solution, she pulled out her cell phone, found the number, and dialed.

“Shadow Cove PD.” The man’s voice wasn’t familiar, thank heavens.

“Right. Hi. I was taking a walk at sunrise on the cove in front of the Ballentine Mansion this morning, and I saw something suspicious on that old dock in the inlet there.”

“Name?”

“You know the one. They call it the Haunted Inlet.”

The moniker had always seemed absurd to her, but after this morning’s events, she felt it wasn’t creepy enough.

“ Your name.” The man’s tone was less than patient.

“Oh. I don’t want anyone to know who I am.”

“Ma’am, I need it so I can file a report.”

“They were moving boxes from a fishing boat to the dock.”

He exhaled a frustrated breath. “Can you tell me what the fishing boat looked like?”

“Yeah. Hold on a sec.” Thankful she’d brought her backpack to the bathroom with her, she found her camera and flipped through the photos.

“It was white—well, more gray, but I think it was originally painted white. It had a long deck and a tall…cabin thing.” Her sister would be embarrassed by her ignorance, but Brooklynn had never been as enthralled with boats as Kenzie.

“Go on.”

“The tower thing was tall but only took up about a quarter, maybe a third of the top of the boat.”

“The deck.” His tone was droll. “So an old white fishing boat.”

“I didn’t get a look at the name, and I didn’t see any markings on the side. But I did take a photo, so?—”

“You might’a started there, lady. Send it to us.”

She’d have to figure a way to do that without giving away who she was.

She copied an email address he rattled off into her notes app. “They saw me and chased me,” she said. “I managed to get away, but?—”

“They chased you? You’re saying you think you’re in danger? Are you in a safe place?”

“Yes.” For now, though she didn’t add that.

“Where are you?”

“The point is, there’s something going on at that dock. You need to…stake it out or whatever. You need to catch those guys so I can get back to my life.”

“Ma’am, you need to file an official report, and I need that photo. This number works to call you back?”

Oh. Oh, no.

How had she not realized…? Of course they’d have a record of her phone number.

If Lenny saw it, he’d know Brooklynn had been the caller.

Fear crept up her spine. “I-I have to go. I’ll see what I can do.”

She ended the call. Fumbled her cell, which bounced off the sink and hit the tile floor. She sat heavily on the toilet seat and grabbed it. Not broken, thank heavens.

Lenny couldn’t get involved. Please, God, don’t let Lenny get involved.

Would he be able to track the phone? To find her?

She powered it off. But would that do it?

She needed to get out of there. If Lenny came…

Not that he’d hurt her, but he was the last person she wanted to deal with right now. Well, the last person, after the smugglers.

It said a lot about the man she’d thought she loved that she was nearly as afraid of him as she was of those men who’d sent her on the run.

She’d told Ford she wouldn’t tell anybody he was here. But if Lenny traced her phone—which might not be legal, but he’d find a way—then he’d come. He’d see Ford, and he’d be enraged to find her with him. No matter what she told him, he wouldn’t believe she and Ford had just met.

He’d make trouble, not only for her but for the man who’d risked his life to protect her.

She had to leave. If she could get to her car, she could go…somewhere.

She’d figure it out.

She stepped into a wide hallway lined with landscape photographs, which showed the area around this house.

Who had taken these? They looked professional, though the quality—or lack thereof—told her they’d been taken decades before.

Her panic faded as she moved deeper into the house, studying each image.

She turned at a corner, and light shone from a room at the end of the hall.

Ford had explicitly told her to return to the living room when she was finished, but curiosity pulled her toward that light. She needed to talk to him, and there was no time to wait.

Lenny could be on his way even now. He’d see her Bronco, and he wouldn’t stop looking for her until he found her.

She peeked into a room lit by lamps and natural light coming through the east-facing windows. It was an office with the same dark woodwork as the rest of the house, but the chairs were leather, old and worn and inviting. A wall of bookshelves was built-in, filled with books.

A faded red-and-tan Persian rug stretched over the hardwood.

Ford was bent over papers strewn across a deep partner’s desk that had to be antique. Plates were stacked on one side, the top one holding the remains of a sandwich.

She cleared her throat. “Sorry to interrupt?—”

He spun so fast that her words stuck in her throat. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking?—”

“I told you to wait for me in the living room.” He stalked toward her, and she shrank back.

Then stopped herself, standing her ground.

If Lenny hadn’t taught her anything else, he’d taught her never to cower.

“I’m leaving. Thanks for your help.” She spun and headed for the door, ignoring the heavy footsteps that thumped behind her.

“Someone’s picking you up?”

“Nope. I’m just gonna run to my car, and?—”

“Too dangerous.”

“I’ll risk it.”

She marched past another hallway, around a corner.

It dead-ended.

She spun to find Ford standing a few feet back, arms crossed, smirk in place.

“Just show me, would you? I’m… I don’t think straight when I’m angry.”

“ I’m making you angry?”

“You’re not exactly dragging a Welcome Wagon.”

He made a sound low in his throat that wouldn’t have sounded more threatening if it’d come from a grizzly.

“Either move or get out of my way.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m not sure yet. Maybe my aunt and uncle’s house.”

“So you’re just going to walk to your bright orange truck and hope nobody sees you?”

“You have a better idea?”

His lips pressed closed, and she had the strongest feeling he was trying very hard to keep words from coming out.

“I can’t find anyone to pick me up, and I can’t stay here.”

“You can stay here.”

“I can’t… I’m not…” All thoughts dissolved as she processed that.

She couldn’t stay here, but the fact that he’d offered when he so obviously wanted her gone…

She didn’t know what to think about that.

“I have to leave.” She sighed and looked at the beige walls. No artwork here, just brass sconces placed intermittently near the ceiling. They had lightbulbs in them now, but they must’ve once held candles.

Everything about this house made her want to stay and delve into its secrets.

“I know you said not to, but I called the police.” She didn’t glance at his face, not needing to confirm the scowl. “I made an anonymous report, but I didn’t think about the fact that they’d see my phone number. They’ll figure out it was me.”

“From your number?”

His tone held curiosity, which surprised her. She’d only ever heard irritation and frustration from him.

“I had a relationship with one of the cops. If he sees it, he’ll know. And he’ll look.”

Ford nodded, eyes narrowing.

“So I have to go.”

She waited for Ford to say she couldn’t leave. To say he didn’t mind if she stayed, that she wasn’t in his way.

To his credit, he didn’t lie.

Because obviously he did mind her staying. She was in his way.

Technically, at the moment, he was in her way.

“Thank you for your help.” She hefted her bag over her shoulder, a signal that she was ready.

He spun and led her to the front door—and then past it. Down a hallway, around a corner, until they were back in the living room.

He opened the hidden basement door and descended the stairs into darkness.

Not total darkness, she realized as she followed. The bulb he’d lit earlier was still on.

He stopped beside the wooden staircase that led to the exterior door. “Cross the lawn to the front corner. You should be able to get through the hedge there. Stay in the woods until you reach where you parked.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She started to pass, but he stepped into her path.

Unlike when they’d first been in this scary, dank place, she wasn’t afraid of him.

“You don’t have to leave. I’d rather… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ll be fine.”

A moment passed.

And then he shifted, and she marched up the stairs and outside, where the morning sun hit her face.

She turned to him. “Thank you for everything.”

He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.

She had no idea what he’d planned to say, but it didn’t matter.

Lenny was coming. She needed to leave.

She stepped outside into a yard she assumed used to be beautiful, though it was nothing but weeds and dandelions, their cheerful yellow flowers waving in the breeze coming off the Atlantic.

Brooklynn avoided the driveway flanked near the road by two stone pillars, jogging toward the tall hedge that separated the property from the road and the neighbors.

She couldn’t be more than two hundred feet from her Bronco. She just had to get there without being seen.

Easy peasy.

She pushed through the thick bushes, moving slowly, thanks to the prickly branches that grabbed her clothes, her backpack.

Before stepping out, she peered along the road, then into the woods. Fear had her wanting to bolt to her car, but caution dictated she be sure nobody was out there.

She didn’t move, just watched for movement, for anything.

But all was quiet.

She was just about to step out when she heard a car. Maybe it’d be safer to go when a car was driving by. Witnesses would keep her safe.

Unless that was the smugglers.

She backed into the prickly hedge.

A black car drove past, going more slowly than the thirty-five mile-per-hour speed limit.

The car had no plates.

Acid pooled in her stomach.

It pulled over on the side of the road between the hedge and her Bronco.

A man stepped out, then bent to talk to the driver. He was too far away for her to see his face.

If she weren’t hemmed in by the hedge, she’d take a photo.

“I got it,” the man barked, clearly responding to something the driver had said. “I’ll find her.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

It was them. They were still looking for her.

She’d nearly walked right into them.

She moved backward slowly, doing her best not to jostle the bushes and draw their attention.

And bumped into a solid chest.