Ready

L
ise was used to running into walls, but falling into traffic was another matter altogether.

So, in the split second before her hands connected with cold concrete in an attempt to break her fall, she knew she had not imagined the hard shove between her shoulder blades that sent her sprawling forward. No more than the squeal of tires from braking cars, or a woman’s shrill scream behind her.

She shoved herself up from the pavement to her knees, but her body kept going as someone yanked her back to the curb. She landed against a wall of bodies.

“You need to be more careful,” came a burly, deep voice.

A woman dressed head to toe in Seahawks green and blue said, “You’ve got to watch yourself after a game—the sidewalks are crowded and so are the streets.”

Lise forced her lungs to suck in the frigid November air and wheezed out, “Somebody pushed me.”

She almost fell off the curb again, trying to turn around to see the people behind her. “Somebody pushed me,” she repeated, her voice high-pitched. “Did any of you see who did it?”

“What are you talking about?” This from an older man, his expression disbelieving.

“I didn’t see anything,” a woman in a red parka said.

An older black woman patted Lise’s shoulder. “I think you’re mistaken.”

“She’s probably disoriented,” the woman’s companion said to her.

The voices went on, a cacophony of sound in Lise’s head, but one thing came through clearly.

No one
had seen him.

Again.

The light turned and pedestrians surged onto the street around her.

Shaking with reaction, she stayed where she was, but watched the mass of people pass by. No malevolent stares were directed toward her, no undue attention focused on the woman who had almost gotten hit by a car. Nothing that might indicate who
he
was, the man who had shoved her off the curb.

Or had it been a man?
She didn’t even know that much, and the not knowing was the most terrifying thing of all.

She had no clue where to look for her enemy, or how to recognize him. However, she’d thought she was safe here in cold and rainy Seattle, thousands of miles from the small
Texas
town of her birth.

She’d been wrong.

Lise stared at the anonymous e-mail, her stomach churning.

It was the third one in as many days. Combined with the nuisance calls and the blood-red rose she’d found lying on the driver’s seat of her locked car, it was enough to make her sick with fear.

    Ms. Barton, I hope you enjoy your Thanksgiving vacation in Canyon Rock. The flight from Portland will be crowded. They always are on big travel days like that, but family should always spend the holidays together. I’m sure your brother, sister-in-law, and new niece, Genevieve, miss you. That pretty little baby will grow up before you know it, not knowing her aunt. Are you sure moving so far away was a good idea?

The e-mail wasn’t completely anonymous. It had been signed.
Nemesis
. Not the stalker’s real name, Lise was sure. She was a writer. She knew who Nemesis was—the goddess of vengeance. Although the longer she was stalked, the more convinced she became that her stalker was a man.

Not a goddess, but a devil.

She shivered in her desk chair, chilled to the very marrow of her bones. She’d already turned the heat up, but she knew it wouldn’t help.

This cold came from the inside.

Why had Nemesis mentioned Genevieve? It wasn’t the first time he had brought up her family, but it was the first time he’d mentioned one of them by name.

Was this e-mail some sort of threat against her baby niece?

All thoughts of going home for the holidays crashed and burned in the face of her stalker’s certain knowledge of her travel plans. There would be no sneaking out of Seattle and driving three hours south to fly out of PDX. Not if her stalker would just be waiting for her at the other end of her journey, ready to do who-knew-what to her family.

Joshua stopped in front of the door to Lise’s apartment.

He had not planned to fly into SeaTac before going to
Texas
, but he’d had no choice. His baby sister’s emotional well-being depended on him talking some sense into Lise Barton.

Bella was a wreck because Lise had called to cancel her visit for Thanksgiving. His sister believed
she
was the reason her new sister-in-law had moved to Seattle and refused to come home for the holidays. Bella had spouted some baloney about being afraid she’d displaced the other woman since she married Lise’s brother, Jake.

According to his sister, Lise had said she had a cold that she didn’t want to expose the baby to. That had sounded reasonable, but then Bella told him that Lise had said she wouldn’t be able to make Christmas, either, because of an unexpected deadline.

Bella was sure the excuses were phony. She said that Lise planned her deadlines a year in advance. He didn’t know about that, but the sexy but shy author of kick-butt women’s fiction would not put work ahead of an important family event. That much he knew. He was still reeling inside from the shock of her moving across the country from them. She was too attached to Jake, Bella, and the baby for the move to make any sense.

When Bella had let slip that Lise had cancelled her arrival
after
discovering he was going to be at the ranch for the holidays, he’d known what the real problem was. Lise didn’t want to see him again.

He was here to fix that.

He knocked, glad to see she at least had a peephole in her door. Her so-called
secure
building had been so easy to get into, he was embarrassed for the agency that installed the security measures and the guard at the front desk in the lobby.

A crash came from inside the apartment. Then silence. He knocked again, louder this time.

Again there was no response.

He called out her name, but absolutely no sound came from the apartment.

Had she fallen and hurt herself? She wasn’t always completely aware, and he’d seen her walk straight into a wall when her eyes were hazy with a certain look she got.

His fist against the door made it shake within its frame.

Still nothing.

He surveyed the locks on the door. They were too basic to be of any real use at keeping out the criminal element. He didn’t even hesitate.

He had the door open faster than if he’d had a key.

A slight
whoosh
of air to his left sent him into immediate battle-ready mode. Reflexes honed by six years in the Army Rangers and a decade spent as a mercenary took over. He swung toward the faint sound, his hand coming up to block the blow.

He grabbed the poker before it connected with his head and had his assailant in a headlock before he realized it was Lise.

He tossed the cast-iron poker aside and spun her to face him, her dark blond hair flying around her face. “What the hell are you trying to do?”

Big hazel eyes stared back at him with a glazed look he’d come to know all too well in his profession.

Terror.

Her breath came in shallow pants and her sweatshirt-clad arms were trembling.

What the hell was going on?

“Why didn’t you answer the door?”

Her mouth moved, but nothing came out.

He shook her gently. “Speak, Lise.”

Her eyes blinked and then filled with tears.

“Damn it.” He hauled her against him and wrapped his arms around her.

He’d really frightened her when he forced his way into her apartment. He hadn’t considered that possibility when he picked her locks. He should have.

She was a small-town
Texas
girl living in the big city.

Obviously, she hadn’t acclimated well.

Her body shook against him and he felt like a real heel.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, little one.”

Lise’s fingers were digging into his shirt, holding the denim so tight, he’d lose the shirt before he lost her grip. She pressed her face into his chest as if she was literally burrowing into him.

“Joshua?” It was the first recognizable sound she’d made in over a minute.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing here?”

“You told Bella you weren’t going to
Texas
for Thanksgiving.”

Lise shuddered. “No. I’m not going.”

She didn’t sound like she had a cold. Her usually soft voice was strained, but not in a way that could be caused by a scratchy throat.

He rubbed her back.

It just seemed like the right thing to do.

She responded by relaxing her hold on his shirt just the tiniest bit. He kept it up, talking to her in the same tone of voice he’d used to calm the little boy he’d liberated on his last mission. He used similar words, too, telling her it was all right, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her, that she was going to be okay.

It took almost as long as it had taken him with the boy before she relaxed enough to step away from him. When she did and he got his first good look at her face, he winced.

He’d seen snow with more color than her skin, except the purple bruises under her eyes. Her bow-shaped mouth trembled.

“Lise, you don’t belong in Seattle.”

“H-how…” She blinked, made a visible effort to gather herself in, and her quivering lips formed words. “How do you figure that?”

“It’s pretty damn obvious to me you aren’t settling into city living. You get an unexpected visitor and you’re practically crawling out of your skin.”

She shook her head and laughed hollowly. “Trust me, moving back to Texas won’t help.”

“Why not?”

“My problems travel with me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She didn’t answer, but this time he didn’t wait around for a reply. He propelled her gently toward the bedroom. “You can tell me about it on the plane. Get your stuff together. We’ve got an eight o’clock flight.”

“No.” She twisted from his guiding hand and stopped, wrapping her arms around herself, covering the Dallas Cowboys logo on her sweatshirt.

“I can’t go, Joshua.” Her southern drawl was very pronounced, her voice on the ragged edge of hysterical.

“Why not?”

She swallowed and looked away from him, her body stiff with stress. “I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t want my family hurt because of me.” Her eyes were both pleading and wild. “If I go to Texas right now it could put them all at risk, even little Genevieve.”

He bit back an ugly word. “Explain.”

“I’m being stalked.”

Lise flexed her fingers, feeling the tension in her body clear to her fingertips.

Joshua had reacted to her announcement with absolute silence. He stood there, a formidable dark shadow in her hallway, his brown eyes trying to see into her soul. His stillness was as complete as his silence, which unnerved her, but at least he wasn’t telling her she was crazy, or imagining things.