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E veryone in the kitchen was silent as Celia listened to Nick’s footsteps grow fainter and farther away. Finally the front door groaned open, then wheezed closed, and she knew Nick was gone. Noah and Anne followed him out of the kitchen, probably to continue mingling with their wedding guests.

Celia and Hiram were alone in the kitchen, and she drew a deep, shaky breath. Her arms and legs were twitchy, and the urge to grab those keys and flee in Anne’s car throbbed in her chest. The almost irresistible siren song whispered in her ear. Get out. Now. While you can .

Hiram reached for her hand. “When’re you moving into Anne’s old apartment?” he asked. “I’d like to keep you close, now that trouble has come to town.”

Trying to ignore the compulsion to flee, Celia forced herself to focus on Hiram’s question. Took a deep breath, then exhaled. “Mary already hired another cook, and she’s starting tomorrow.” Celia forced a smile, because she loved Sylvie’s story. “She and her mother and two siblings stayed at Mary’s shelter about ten years ago. They had to move to the women’s shelter when her father showed up, and that’s where Sylvie learned to cook. I’m thrilled that she’ll be cooking for Mary. I told Mary I’d cook with Sylvie for a couple of days, just to make sure she knows what she’s doing, but I’m pretty sure she does. By the time Anne and Noah leave for Hawaii, I’ll be ready to start working for you.”

Hiram nodded. “Okay. That works out well. Mary told me about her new cook.” He smiled. “She has fond memories of that family, and she’s thrilled that they’re doing well. That father is in prison, so they’re all safe now.”

“Had to be traumatic for those kids,” Celia said, remembering her own unstable, often violent mother. “I’m glad Sylvie’s going to be working with Mary.

“Anne and I worked it out,” Celia continued. “You’re not going to be left without a cook. I’ll move into the apartment tomorrow and start cooking for you when Annie leaves on her honeymoon.”

Hiram put his hand on her shoulder. “You did all the cooking for the wedding. Then you had a traumatic shock when Doyle walked in the door. Go out there and have another glass of wine. Or drink some Champagne. It’s not every day your sister gets married. Relax and have some fun.”

Celia leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Hiram,” she said, smiling at his beet-red face. “I’m gonna enjoy working for you.”

“And I’ll enjoy having you here,” he said gruffly. He jerked his head toward the dining room. “Now get out there and celebrate with your sister.”

Celia forced a smile. “Will do, boss.” She stepped through the swinging doors into the restaurant and automatically looked around the room. No sign of Nick. She’d heard the door open, but hoped he’d changed his mind and stayed.

If she could, she’d kick her own ass. What was wrong with her? Nick Doyle was poison for her. She needed to stay as far away from him as she possibly could. If she searched for the rest of her life, she wouldn’t find another man who was as dangerous for her, as inappropriate or as unsuitable as Nick.

So why was he the only man she could think about? And why the hell did it feel as if they were two magnets, being inexorably pulled toward each other?

She glanced at her watch and saw with relief that it was time to go back to the shelter and get dinner started. So she found Anne and Noah, hugged both of them, and told them she had to start dinner at the shelter.

Anne curled her arm around Celia’s shoulder. “I’ll be in here tomorrow to cook,” she said. “Why don’t you come by after you fix breakfast at the shelter and I’ll show you where everything is.”

Celia nodded. “Thanks, Annie. I’ll do that.” She grabbed her sister and hugged her again. “I’m so happy for you and Noah,” she murmured. “He’s perfect for you.” She eased away from her sister and smiled. “And you’re perfect for Noah. But that goes without saying.”

Anne smiled back as she stepped away. “Glad you think so,” she said. She grabbed Celia’s hands and squeezed them. “Now go and make dinner for the homeless folks.”

After saying goodbye to both Noah and Hiram, Celia walked out the door into the September sunshine. As she headed toward the shelter, she reviewed what she’d planned for dinner. Mentally timed her prep and cooking, then nodded to herself. Mac and cheese with roasted broccoli was an easy recipe. She’d made it before, and everyone had liked it.

As she turned the corner, someone stepped into view. Nick Doyle. She stopped, frozen, and stared at him. “Nick,” she managed to say. “What are you doing here?”

“May I walk you back to the shelter?” he asked.

She tilted her head. “Not a lot of bad guys lying in wait this time of day,” she said. Except maybe Nick .

“I know. I just want to spend a few minutes with you without your brother-in-law twitching to pound me into the ground.”

Celia sighed. “Noah’s a good guy,” she said stiffly. “He’s just looking out for me. And Annie.” She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at him. “Can you blame him for being protective? Your father’s goons took me into the desert, tried to make me lay down in my own grave, then shot me twice. The only reason I survived is because I was prepared and lucky.” She stopped walking and turned to look at him. “You didn’t make much of an effort to stop Fingers and Murray from killing me. I thought…” She clamped her lips together. It didn’t matter what she thought. She’d clearly been wrong.

“You thought what, Celia?” Nick said, staring at her.

“It doesn’t matter. I survived. That’s all that counts.”

“I want to know what you were going to say,” Nick asked, his voice oddly urgent.

“How come?” she asked.

“It matters to me,” he said. “ You matter to me.”

Celia wanted to laugh at his words. She hadn’t mattered to him when it counted the most. “Tell me this, then. You were supposed to go with Fingers to kill me. So why didn’t you?”

“I told you. Alice needed help with a job, and she asked my father to let me help her.”

Celia held Nick’s gaze as she studied him. “Why did Alice specifically ask for you? Your father must have a lot of guys who work for him.”

Nick shoved his hands into his pockets. Stared straight ahead, and Celia couldn’t read his expression. “I’ve given this a lot of thought since that night. Alice was a smart woman. She knew why my father was sending me with Fingers -- he wanted me implicated in one of his murders so he could hold that over my head. Use it to control me. And Alice knew me well enough to understand that being there when you , specifically , were killed, would destroy me. And she realized that’s what my father wanted.” His jaw twitched. “He wanted to completely devastate me so I wouldn’t care about anything he did. He wanted to make me his puppet. Like Robert had been.”

He curled his hands into tight fists. When she glanced at him, completely horrified, he shook his fingers out. But he didn’t meet her gaze.

“Your father is a monster,” Celia finally said.

“Not telling me anything I don’t know.” He stared down at his shoes as they walked. “He had Alice killed not too long after that. He said it was because she didn’t tell him that your sister called, but that was nonsense. He killed her because she thwarted his attempt to compromise me. A good woman died because my father needed to control me.” He pressed his lips together. “I loved Alice. She was like a second mother to me. And when we were in the basement, moving boxes, she showed me the pictures and notes about my brother’s death. I took the whole folder when I left. My father will eventually realize it’s missing, and he’ll figure I took it. But what’s he going to do? He has no idea where I am.”

Celia wanted to put her hand on Nick’s arm, but she didn’t dare touch him. That would be too… dangerous. She’d been very careful, in the months she’d lived in Bobby Doyle’s house, to never, ever touch Nick. Not even a brush in passing. Because she’d known that the attraction between them was too strong. Too powerful. One touch would have sparked a fire. And getting involved with Nick? That would have been very, very dangerous. For both of them.

“I’m really sorry that you have such a horrible father. I know how awful a bad parent can be.” She glanced up at him. “Anne and I never knew our father, but we had a crappy mother. She was a volatile alcoholic. Neither of us shed any tears when she died of liver disease while we were in culinary school.”

They were nearing the shelter, and Celia turned to study Nick. “What did you think when you saw me at the wedding today?”

“I thought I was looking at a ghost. Or maybe your twin. The last thing I thought was that it was you. Everyone thought you were dead.” He swallowed, then turned to her. “Will you tell me what happened some day?”

Celia tilted her head and studied him. He seemed sincere. As if he wanted to know. And not so that he could report back to his father. When he’d talked about his father, he’d sounded… appalled. Repulsed. Sickened.

He watched her, waiting for her answer. Finally, she nodded slowly. “I might. Depends on what you’re gonna do with the knowledge that I’m alive. No one knows besides Anne, Noah and Hiram. And that’s the way it has to stay. But if I do tell you,” she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “You can’t tell anyone else.”

Instead of agreeing and reassuring her, Nick asked, “Are you going to talk to the FBI, too?”

Celia noticed he hadn’t responded to her stipulation. But she took a deep breath and stared at him, incredulous. “Hell, no,” she answered immediately. “That’s the last thing I’d do. If your father found out I was still alive, he’d hunt me down. Kill me. And he’d make damn sure I was dead this time. Then he’d kill my sister.” She stopped. Turned to face him. “You can’t say a word about me to the FBI.”

“I don’t know if I can promise you that, Celia,” he said slowly. “Your murder is the only one I ever heard him plan. Give orders to make happen. My testimony about that could put him away for the rest of his life.” He swallowed. “Fingers is dead. Troy Murray is the only other witness. And as far as I know, he’s loyal to my father. Would never testify against him.”

A cold fist squeezed Celia’s heart. “You know that if you tell the FBI about my ‘killing’,” -- she slashed air quotes with vicious swipes of her hands -- “word will get back to your father. He has ears everywhere. I’m sure he’s bought some FBI agents in the Organized Crime division. All it would take was one person to hear that I’m still alive and report back to him, and my life would essentially be over.”

She swallowed hard and waved at the building behind her. “I have to go and get dinner started.” She drilled him with a hard look. “I’m not going to tell you a damn thing about what happened in the desert. You’ll use it to destroy me. Stay away from me, Nick. I want nothing to do with you.”

“Are you telling me not to come into The Trailhead?” Nick asked.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. I can’t keep you out. I’ll be in the kitchen, so I won’t even know if you show up.” She smiled. “Noah? He might have other ideas. But I’m the one who was almost killed, and Noah’s very protective. Up to you if you want to sit there and take it.”

Nick held her gaze. “I don’t sit there and take anything. I may work in front of a computer, but I’m not worried about Mr. ‘I Used to be a SEAL’.”

Celia drew in a deep breath. Blew it out. “You want to play with the big boys, Nick? Have at it. Just don’t do it in The Trailhead. Noah and Hiram will kick your ass. Then the deputies will show up. You’ll end up in a cell at the county jail.”

“I can handle Hiram and Noah,” Nick said. “I just don’t want to get your family involved.”

She made a sound that was more a sob than a laugh. “You’re an idiot, Nick. Hiram and Noah are my family. Along with Anne. They’re already involved. Me, Annie, Noah and Hiram are all part of this. And they’d be in trouble too if you told the FBI what happened to me.”

She moved away from him as she studied him, knowing now that they could never be… anything. Without trust, you couldn’t have a relationship, and Nick had as much as said he’d betray her to the FBI. When he did, she’d have to run again. Leave Anne and Noah and Hiram behind and disappear. Permanently this time. If she stayed in touch with Anne, she’d be a target, too.

“I’m not going to tell you anything about what happened to me, Nick. I’m not going to give you anything you can take to the FBI. And you need to know that if you say anything to the FBI about me, you’re signing my death warrant.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you understand that?”

“That’s not true,” he said. “The FBI would protect you. Put you in protective custody.”

Celia shook her head. “I don’t think you heard me the first time. Ask Noah. He’d know. Your father has several FBI agents in his pocket. As soon as you tell them about me, what happened to me and how I survived, you’ll have killed me. Might not be that day. Might not be that year. But your father’s men would eventually find me and kill me. Without fail.”

He stared at her. “Your murder is the only one I have direct knowledge of. I’d have to tell them about it. Don’t you understand?” Nick said.

“No, Nick, I don’t understand. What I do understand is that if you tell the FBI about me, you might as well kill me yourself,” Celia said. Her heart breaking as she stared at him for a long moment, she finally said, “Don’t come near me again.”

Unable to continue looking at him, she turned away and headed for the back door of the shelter. She heard him behind her, but she didn’t stop. Didn’t look back. Typed in the code for the door while shielding it with her hand, then disappeared into her room. Made sure the door was locked behind her. Then she dropped onto the bed and pressed her fingers against her eyes, trying to stop the tears flowing down her cheeks.

She’d controlled every aspect of her life since she was a child. But finally she’d found something she couldn’t control. She couldn’t prevent Nick from going to the FBI about her supposed killing.

And if he told the FBI about her near-death, it would cost her life, as well.