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Presley had known from the beginning that the fires were connected. This was definitive proof. “Do you believe me now?” she demanded of Reggie.

“I didn’t disbelieve you before.”

“Oh, cut the crap, Reggie. You thought I was bonkers.”

He opened his mouth, but she waved a hand. “Water under the bridge now. We need to find Eddie Smith. He’s the perp.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

Presley’s mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me right now?” She held up a finger. “The man stole his partner’s credentials.” A second digit. “His father attacked me and lost his job. What more proof do you need?”

Reggie clenched his jaw. “Evidence, not conjecture. Yes, he’s at the top of the list, but we can’t afford to focus on him and overlook anyone else.”

“If he’s not the prime suspect, where is he now?” Kayne demanded, and Presley wanted to hug her coworker. He always had her back. “Why can’t anyone find him? That screams guilty.”

“I can’t answer that. I’ve already put a Be On The Lookout bulletin on his vehicle. If anyone sees it, they are to contact me. I tried pinging his phone, but it’s turned off.”

“Where was he staying while he was in town?” Dominic wanted to know.

“At the Hyatt. He checked out. No hits on his credit card since then.”

“He’s a detective,” Presley pointed out. “He’ll know how to cover his tracks.” She told him about the attempted break-in at Dominic’s house.

“You think it was Smith?”

“I do. I found a tracking device on Dominic’s SUV. He thought we were staying there.”

“Again, I advise you not to jump to conclusions without proof.”

Presley was finished with her old friend. She shoved to her feet. “We’re done here.”

“Presley—”

She stomped out the door but heard Kayne tell him, “Let us know if you get a hit on the BOLO.”

“I will.”

Then Dominic asked, “Are you attending Nancy Babcock’s funeral today?”

“Yes. I’ll see you there.”

Kayne leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Unclench.”

She elbowed him in the gut.

“Oof.”

“Retract those claws. We’re on the same side.”

She slowed down. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Uh, what was that? Did you apologize to me?” He jerked his phone from a pocket, hurried in front of her, and held it up. “Say that again. I want proof.”

“Go to hell.”

He chuckled. “There’s my Presley.”

“ My Presley?”

The voice behind her was a low growl. She turned toward Dominic. “Ignore him. He’s taunting me.”

“Now, cher , would I do that?”

“Yes.” She motioned Kayne forward. “Now go.”

Presley almost jerked when a hand settled against the small of her back. Dominic was feeling possessive. Kayne was in front of them, so he didn’t see it.

Once they loaded into the SUV, Presley asked, “Kayne, did you bring a suit?”

“Uh, no.”

“You’ll need one for a funeral today and a tux for a black-tie event in two days. I need to find outfits too. Dominic, where’s the best place to shop around here?”

He guided them to an upscale outlet mall near Duluth. Presley found dresses and shoes to wear to both events, along with a purse that paired with both outfits. She accompanied the men while they chose their clothes. After packing their findings in the SUV, they stopped at a Mexican restaurant for lunch.

Dominic and Kayne hit it off instantly and chatted away like old friends over chips and salsa. Presley tried to join in, but all she wanted to do was relive yesterday in Dominic’s arms. She’d never known sex could be so . . . spectacular. That seemed like such a tame word for what they’d shared. She didn’t know if she felt this way because she’d crushed on him for a significant portion of her life or if he was just that good. She suspected it was the latter.

Sleeping with him had complicated things tremendously. When she’d left the CObrA Securities compound a few days ago, she thought she would attend Margy’s funeral and return home. Now, she didn’t know how she would leave Dominic and his daughter behind.

There was nothing for Presley in Serenity Shores. Like Gia, the city held terrible memories. It hurt to pass the ice cream shop where Gwen used to take her for malts or the park where they’d practiced gymnastics. Time hadn’t healed her wounds.

Though she was still relatively new to her job, Presley loved her work. Couldn’t imagine doing anything else. It truly felt as if it was what she’d been born to do. She couldn’t stay.

Saying goodbye would gut her.

#

Nancy and Gene’s joint funeral was just as painful as Margy Binder’s had been. Gene’s two daughters from a previous marriage had bawled throughout the service. His ex-wife had played the victim, crying to anyone who would listen that Nancy had stolen the love of her life from her.

Nancy’s only sister, Nina, had been distraught. Presley didn’t remember her since Nina had been much older than Nancy. Presley had offered condolences and was glad to learn Nina had her husband and two children to comfort her.

Nancy’s parents hadn’t been in attendance. Presley asked Dominic about them. She remembered them being friendly.

“They passed away in a car accident years ago.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.”

The burial was held at the same cemetery as Gwen’s and Margy’s, one of two in Serenity Shores. They passed Margy’s grave, which had a fresh mound of dirt covered with dying flowers, on the way to Nancy and Gene’s final resting place.

Instead of attending the gravesite service, Kayne stayed in the SUV to work on his laptop. Presley didn’t blame him. He’d just sat through the wake of people he’d never met. They wore comm devices to keep in touch.

Presley studied the mourners. She recognized some of the same people who had attended Margy’s service. She didn’t see Jessie or Tamera. Presley thought they might’ve made the effort for their old friend. Apparently not.

Her eyes scanned the area and snapped back. “Dominic, look over there.”

It was the same woman in black with sunglasses and a hat who had appeared at Margy’s funeral. Presley took off after her, but she was too far away and already gone before Presley could catch up to her. The mystery woman had been nowhere near where they had parked, or she would’ve sent Kayne after her.

It had to be someone who knew both women. If it were Jessie or Tamera, why would they hide?

Dominic caught up with her. “She disappeared again?”

“Yeah.” Presley glanced back at the service. “It’s almost over. We might as well leave.”

As they were making their way back to the SUV, Presley stepped into a hole and stumbled just as something whizzed by her ear. She knew that sound. Shoving Dominic toward an oak tree, she yelled, “Take cover! Someone is shooting at us.”

#

Kayne Serruto surveyed the cemetery as Presley and Dominic attended the service for Nancy Babcock and her husband, Gene. There were some intricately carved headstones featuring angels, benches, and hearts. Most were decorated with flowers, wind chimes, and religious figurines. Trees were peppered around, providing shade and landscaping. Located on several hills, the graveyard wasn’t a bad place to spend eternity.

Kayne decided to wait in the SUV to get work done. He’d seen too much death during his military days and again in his personal life. He tried to avoid the whole scene as much as possible. His parents had passed away when he was young. His mawmaw, Adelaide, had raised him, and she was one tough Cajun broad. Tears were a no-no. Kayne had learned to internalize his feelings at a young age.

He’d only been in Serenity Shores for a few hours, but it had been enough to realize he was the proverbial third wheel. Some serious pheromones sparked between Presley and Dominic. Bon Dieu , he’d almost been singed. They tried to act like nothing was happening between them, but Kayne had become somewhat of an expert on these things. He’d had a front-row seat to the Luca Russo and Liliana Lima love story and another for the Christian Zamora and Aja Blue LaLonde affair. From his experience, those involved tried to hide their feelings, deny them, or whatever, but he’d been trained to read people, and he was good at it.

Presley’s case was different because a child was involved. He’d seen her around the kids at the complex, and she was good with them. They adored her. Would she want to become an instant mother? He had no idea.

Kayne loved kids. With the life he’d lead, he wasn’t sure he’d ever have any of his own. He’d taken lives in the name of country. Blood coated his hands. Didn’t matter that the kills had been sanctioned or that he’d been following orders. The god his mawmaw prayed to probably wouldn’t forgive him for ending a life. Neither would she. Oh, mon Dieu , she would take a switch to his backside until he couldn’t sit down for a week. He’d suffered through his fair share of those punishments when he’d been a hell-raising teenager.

Kayne took out his computer and powered it up. He wanted to research Presley’s old boss, Ed Smith. When she’d told him what had happened, he’d felt a murderous rage on behalf of his friend. Presley projected an exterior that was tough as nails, but she had a soft heart. If someone had messed with her, Kayne wanted to have a word with the bastard.

Before he could do any digging, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Something was happening.

Setting the computer aside, he scanned the area. A sharp retort told him all he needed to know. Someone was shooting. He spotted the perp in a tree.

Shoving the SUV in drive, he headed after them.

#

The damn heels Presley wore hampered her movement. Why women wore them was beyond her. Another bullet barely missed her, thanks to Dominic. He yanked her arm, jerking her behind a tree with him.

Ear-piercing screams told her the mourners had heard the shots and were running for cover. They should be safe since Presley was the target.

“I’ve got eyes on the shooter,” Kayne said. “Going after him.”

“Damn it, Presley, you’re bleeding.”

She looked down at her arm where a chunk of skin was missing. That was the sting she’d felt. There would be time to examine it when the threat was eliminated. “It’s nothing.”

“Let me look at it.”

“Later.”

“Where did you get a gun?”

“Handbag.” She’d bought one at the outlet mall specifically for that purpose. Peeking around the tree, she looked for the bad guy but saw no movement.

Kayne let out a string of very colorful curses in her ear.

“What’s wrong?”

“I got boxed in by a procession of cars speeding out of here. The shooter got away.”

Presley dialed Reggie. When he answered, she tersely informed him, “Eddie Smith is in the vicinity of Serenity Shores Cemetery.”

“Did you see him?”

“No. He shot at us.”

“How do you know . . . never mind. Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“I heard the shots. I’m at the cemetery now. Where are you?”

She glanced at the name of the closest street. “Paper Birch Lane.”

“I don’t know where that is.”

“We’re up the hill from Nancy’s service . . . I see you.” She waved a hand, and Reggie jogged to them.

“You’re bleeding.”

“He nicked me, but it’s fine.”

“Do you know what he was driving?” Reggie questioned.

“Kayne, did you see?” she asked through the comms.

“No. I couldn’t get there.”

She repeated his answer to Reggie. He called for backup to search the surrounding area for Eddie Smith.

Kayne screeched to a stop and jumped out of the SUV. “The perp was dressed in all black with a hoodie. Too far away to tell gender.”

“It has to be the same person who tried to break into my house,” Dominic deduced. “Same description.”

“Where did you see him?” Reggie wanted to know. “And before you criticize me, Presley, most criminals are male. I’m going with the odds.”

She frowned at him. “That thought didn’t cross my mind.”

Kayne pointed to a tree. “He was set up there and jumped down when he realized he’d been spotted. He took off to the northeast.”

“I’m going to check that area for clues. Presley, go to the hospital and get that looked at,” Reggie said over his shoulder as he jogged away.

“Let me see it now,” Dominic insisted.

“I don’t like being in the open like sitting ducks.”

“Fine. Get inside the SUV.”

She narrowed her eyes at Dominic. He was being very bossy. She opened her mouth, but he shook his head and pointed. “Now.”

Kayne’s amused chuckle earned him another slug in the gut.

“You are killing me, Elvis. Don’t be cruel.”

“Har, har.” Presley almost punched that amused look off his face, but who could stay mad at Kayne and that roguish grin? It was so charming. Instead, she barked, “Shut it.”

“Shutting it,” he responded.

Presley rolled her eyes and fought a smile. She started to climb into the passenger seat, but Dominic stopped her. “In the back.”

“I dislike this side of you,” she snapped but did as he instructed. She had to scoot over when he followed her inside.

Kayne rummaged in the back and handed Dominic a first aid kit. “I’ve had combat medic training and can sew up any wound if necessary.”

“Kayne, I’ve seen your handiwork. I would rather not look like the Bride of Frankenstein, thank you very much,” Presley snarked.

“Each scar is a badge of honor,” Kayne insisted, and damn it, she couldn’t argue. He’d gotten them defending the country.

#

Dominic knew he was being high-handed with Presley, but he’d been scared senseless when she’d yelled that someone was shooting, and then he’d noticed the blood blooming on her arm. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if the bullet had hit higher. It might’ve tagged her in the head. He shuddered.

“It looks that bad?” Presley twisted her head to see the wound.

“No.”

A hiss escaped her lips. “What the hell did you do, light it on fire?”

“I need to clean it out.” His voice was still too gruff. He tried to tone it down. “The bullet cut a groove, but I think the butterfly strips will work. Then you won’t have much of a scar, if any.”

“I was kidding about that.”

Dom dressed the wound and wrapped a bandage around it. He almost kissed it, like he did when Gia was hurt, but he restrained himself.

“Do you want something for the pain? There are ibuprofen tablets in the kit.”

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll take them if it starts to bother me. Thanks for patching it up.”

“Anytime.”

It took longer to get to the safe house than normal, and he realized Kayne was taking a circuitous route. Every time they got in the SUV, Kayne and Presley scanned it for tracking devices like the one she’d found on his vehicle. So far, there had been no others.

Dominic checked on the spaghetti sauce simmering in the Crock Pot when they returned home. The meatballs were his specialty. He’d perfected the meal at the fire station and regularly had requests for it. It was a recipe passed down from his Italian nonna . He’d even taught Gia how to make the sauce.

“I’m going to check with the office to see if they’ve been able to track Eddie Smith,” Kayne announced as he retreated down the hall.

Dominic pulled Presley into his trembling arms. “I was so worried about you.”

“Dominic, I’m fine. I was wearing a vest.”

He slid his palms around her face, brushing his thumbs along her smooth cheeks. “Your beautiful head was exposed. If that guy had been a better shot . . .” He shuddered again.

“Ah. The shivering wasn’t about the ugliness of the wound. You were worried about me.”

“Damn straight.”

#

Tamera Watts wanted to cancel her clients for the rest of the week, but she hadn’t been lying when she’d told Jessie she had to pay the bills. Much to the displeasure of her first husband, Calvin, she’d gotten the historic house in the divorce. He’d wanted to keep it, but the judge had ruled in her favor. At the time, she’d been ecstatic. Later, she wondered if the judge had been punking her. The thing was a freaking money pit.

Her second husband, Peter, had fallen more in love with the home than with her. He’d had big plans to bring it back to its original glory, but he had been all talk and no action. He fancied himself to be an architect, but in reality, he was a tattoo artist, and not a good one at that. The marriage had fizzled long before the first window could be replaced.

The upkeep on a century-old home was never-ending, and she’d hoped number three, Earl, would help her with expenses, but he’d been a deadbeat. He’d slept all day and played drums at night in a crummy Kiss tribute band. As it was, she was barely holding her head above water, trying to keep it up with minimal maintenance. She didn’t want to admit defeat and put the house on the market, but it might come to that at some point in the very near future. Number one, Calvin, would relish in her failure. That had spurred her to keep plugging away.

Her next appointment was with Dwight Grubb. He was a local farmer who’d been pushing to become husband number four despite her sincere disinterest. Bordering on slovenly, his lecherous leers and beady eyes gave her the unmitigated creeps.

The doorbell rang. With a resigned sigh, she stood to open the door. “Mr. Grubb, it’s good to see you.”

“Now, now, Tamera, dear, you know you’re supposed to call me Dwight.”

“Right. Dwight. Come in.”

He wore a pair of gray and brown snake-skin cowboy boots paired with denim overalls and a plaid shirt. A crease in his uncombed sandy hair indicated that he usually sported a cowboy hat. Stick a pole up his ass, and he could scare crows away from a cornfield.

He leaned in for a kiss, but she quickly hurried behind her desk so she didn’t have to touch him. He frowned but took a seat.

“So, Tamera, my sweet, I have two box seats for Hamlet at the Marshall Performing Arts Center. It’s William Shakespeare’s best play, you know. Won’t you join me? We’ll have a nice dinner, maybe at that new Italian restaurant. After the show,” he wagged his brows, “who knows where the evening will lead.”

“I’m busy.”

Dwight blinked. “I didn’t tell you when it was.”

Tamera waved a hand. “I’m unavailable every night.” She opened the pink lotus dispenser on her desk to display an array of cigarettes, hoping to distract him. “Would you like a smoke?”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He fished one out and stuck it in his mouth. “Got a light?”

“Of course.”

She flicked her yellow Bic and reached over to ignite the tip. He took a deep draw and sucked the smoke into his lungs.

“What can I help you with today, Dwight?”

“I lied when I said I had questions about the tax forms. I wanted to see you and woo, uh, poo, uh, do . . .” He started coughing.

When he didn’t stop, she asked, “Do you need a glass of water?”

He didn’t answer. The hacking grew deeper, wetter, and his face turned bright red.

Tamera pushed to her feet. “Dwight, are you okay?”

His green eyes were enormous orbs in his face as he shook his head from side to side. “Can’t. Breathe.”

When blood dribbled from his mouth, Tamera recoiled in horror.

“Oh, God. Oh, God.” She fumbled for her desk phone and knocked it off the cradle. Tamera dropped to her knees and searched for it, finding it under her desk. She snatched it and stood in time to see Dwight fall to the floor. She leaned over to peer at him. “Dwight? Are you okay?” No answer.

When a representative came on the line, she requested an ambulance. She hung up and waited for it to arrive. Dwight was eerily quiet now. She chanced another peek over her desk to see his wide eyes staring directly at her. Gah!

What could’ve happened to him? Her gaze whipped to the cigarette smoking away in an ashtray. Had she inadvertently poisoned him? Oh, Lord, she didn’t want to go to jail!

Tamera stubbed the butt out, then swiped the lotus dispenser and ashtray from her desk, stepping over Dwight as she headed to the kitchen to deposit them in the dishwasher, hoping the police didn’t search in there. Rummaging in a drawer, she grabbed a rag, stuck it under the faucet, and rang it out before hurrying back to Dwight. She wiped the blood from his face and mouth, slightly alarmed that, one, she was tampering with a potential crime scene, and two, he hadn’t so much as moved as she worked on him.

After she stashed the rag with the other items in the dishwasher, she dashed for the door just as the sirens grew closer.

When the ambulance pulled up, she waved a hand. “In here.”

Two medics hurried inside with a gurney.

“He’s over there.”

“Do you know what happened to him, ma’am?”

She shook her head. “I have no idea. He, uh, grabbed his chest and said something about sharp pain and fell to the floor.”

“Possible heart attack,” one of the paramedics said into a radio.

Tamera stood back, detachedly watching them work on Dwight, desperately wishing she had a smoke. Chewing her thumbnail would have to do.

Maybe Tamera should feel guilty for lying to the medics, but she was in save-her-hide mode. There was a very good chance the authorities wouldn’t believe that she hadn’t tampered with the cigarettes, especially when husband number two, Peter, had accused her of poisoning him—unsuccessfully, thankfully. She’d spent months and thousands of dollars defending herself. In the end, she’d crawled out of the ordeal broke, distraught, disillusioned, but acquitted.

Still, the paramedics were only trying to do their job and save a life. If she mentioned he might’ve ingested poison, would it save Dwight’s life? She thought about the fact that she’d withheld vital information, but the guilt didn’t materialize.

Was this what she’d become? An unfeeling, unabashed liar? What did it matter? She’d already punched her ticket to hell long ago.

“Ma’am, is he your husband?” one medic asked.

“Are you kidding me? No, he’s a client. I’m an accountant.”

“Do you have a contact for him we can call?”

She held out her hands. “I’m sorry. I barely know him. Maybe check his wallet?”

The woman gave her a look that Tamera couldn’t read. Was it because she tried to tell them how to do their job or that she was so matter of fact about a possibly dying man?

They loaded Dwight onto the stretcher and then whisked him away. Tamera stood at the door, watching until the ambulance disappeared. As soon as it was gone, she twisted the lock and raced to her room to pack. She did not doubt the poisoned cigarette was meant for her. First Margy, then Nancy. Charmaine had died last night. Tamera was next.

Once she had the essentials stuffed in her suitcase, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number.

“‘Lo?”

“Jessie?”

“Who dis?”

She pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it. Who dis? Good grief, was she toasted already? It wasn’t even four o’clock in the afternoon. “It’s Tamera.”

“Tamera, who?”

“Tamera Watts.” You drunk bitch , she thought to herself, though she desperately wanted to say it out loud.

“Oh, Tamera,” Jessie repeated, as if the name suddenly meant something to her. “How ya doing?”

“Is the offer to stay with you still on the table?”

“Huh? Stay with me?”

Oh, my God, this was unbelievable. “Don’t you remember offering me a room at your house? At Davy’s on Canal Park Drive two days ago and again last night after Charmaine was murdered?”

“I did? Oh, yeah, yeah, sure. I’ve got plenty of room. Tamera Watts, come on down.” She snickered at her Price is Right reference.

Tamera wasn’t amused. “Unlock your door. I’m on my way.”

#

Dominic was well aware that Presley’s coworker was staying in the house with them. He truly liked Kayne. Could see becoming good friends with him. He was a great guy, wickedly funny, and they shared many interests. However, Dom would prefer that he and Presley were alone because he wanted to hold her more than he needed his next breath.

Sitting across from her at dinner had been excruciating. He needed to assure himself she was okay and couldn’t do that with Kayne as an avid onlooker.

At least the meal had been a roaring success. Kayne and Presley raved over the meatballs, with both going back for seconds and thirds. He’d toasted French bread to go with it. There were no leftovers.

He’d been shocked at how much they’d packed away since they were in incredible shape. Lainey would never even taste his cooking. She favored pecking at lettuce and alfalfa sprouts. He preferred a woman who enjoyed food, and Presley certainly did, though you would never be able to tell. She was as sleek as a jungle cat and as toned as a fitness model.

After dinner, he’d called Gia. She was still having a blast with Tracey. They had constructed a blanket fort in the living room and planned on spending the night inside telling ghost stories. Gia had insisted on saying goodnight to Presley, and their conversation had lasted longer than the one he’d had with his baby girl.

He’d spoken with Tracey’s mom, Elaine, who had assured him that all was well and the girls would be in bed early since it was a school night. Major was doing good, and Gia was behaving herself. It eased his mind to know she was having fun, but he missed her so much it was as if a limb had been chopped off.

Once the plates and silverware had been loaded into the dishwasher, they watched television. Dom was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Presley had worn him out yesterday, and he was dealing with an adrenalin dump from the earlier shooting.

Finally, Kayne stretched and stood. “I need some sleep. It was a long drive here, and I’m exhausted.”

He’d commandeered the suite on the first floor, much to Dom’s relief. That meant he wouldn’t be upstairs where he could see or, more importantly, hear what was happening in the main bedroom.

They said their goodnights, and Dom followed Presley up the stairs. She hadn’t even reached the door before he grabbed her arm and pulled her against him.

“I’ve needed to do this all day.”

“Um,” she hummed. “Me too.” Then she yanked him with her into the room, causing him to stumble after her. She closed the door, ripped his clothes off in record time, and shoved him to the bed.

“Your arm . . .”

“Is fine,” she finished before treating him to a seductive striptease. By the time she joined him, he was ready to explode. Then she clutched him, her hand a silky glove, and waves of desire crashed over him. He couldn’t take more of her torment.

Jackknifing up, he tossed her to her back, enjoying her surprise squeal as he came over her and slid inside. Her laughter turned to moans, and he savored the intense feel of her gripping him intimately.

Dominic wanted it to last, but his willpower was shot. Thankfully, Presley was with him, and soon, they crested the mountain together and flew off into the abyss in exquisite bliss.