FIRE PEAK

FIRELIGHT RIDGE

JENNIFER BERNARD

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

About the Author

Also by Jennifer Bernard

1

Charlie Santa Lucia had gotten into plenty of messes in her life, but this one had to be the most ridiculous. Why had she thought driving a cherry-red BMW convertible down a road to nowhere, deep in the Alaskan wilderness—with a goldfish tank strapped into the passenger seat—would solve her problems?

Now she was trapped on a one-lane road with no exit, with another car in hot pursuit. How the heck was she going to scramble out of this one?

It had all made sense at the time. Sort of.

The BMW belonged to her best friend Molly, and she didn’t even have the title, so couldn’t trade it in for a less eye-catching car. The goldfish belonged to another best friend, Lila. Since she didn’t know how long she was going to be on the run, she couldn’t leave Goldilocks behind.

She checked the rearview mirror. Yup, that same vehicle was right behind her, about a half mile back. Following steadily, not trying to catch up and not falling back. As if he knew that once she reached Firelight Ridge, there would be nowhere else to go, so he could just take his time. Toy with her, and then pounce. Like a cat waiting for a mouse to hit a wall.

The car looked official—dark sedan, tinted windows, classic law-enforcement vibe—but hadn’t turned on a siren or lights. It had been waiting for her in Klutna, the tiny village where the road to Firelight Ridge began. It had pulled out behind her and stayed a consistent distance back ever since.

Testing, she pressed the accelerator and sped up just a tad. The car behind her did the same. She couldn’t see much about the driver in her rearview mirror because the BMW kept jerking and bouncing and swerving. It wasn’t designed to handle the deep muddy ruts and winter-worn potholes of a road that had been buried under several feet of snow all winter.

Charlie wasn’t used to driving roads like this, either. All she could do was keep a grip on the wheel and mentally apologize to Molly for what she was putting Red through.

Was poor Goldilocks okay? She seemed to be taking the bumpy ride in stride. Maybe it brought back vestigial memories of storms at sea.

“Don’t you worry, Goldie. I’m taking you back to Lila. You won’t have to put up with me much longer.”

She took another peek in the rearview mirror.

The driver was a man, she could see that much. Dark aviator sunglasses. Dark hair. Could it be…

No. Impossible.

Had Nick Perini tracked her all the way to Alaska?

If so, she was screwed. He was the whole reason she’d decided to disappear. Nick was smart. Wily. And hot, curse his sexy Italian ass.

She hit a pothole and felt the BMW’s undercarriage crunch against gravel. Sorry, Molly!!! I’ll get you a new paint job as soon as I get out of prison!!

Shuddering, she gripped the steering wheel tighter. For most people, prison was a theoretical fear. Not for her. Her father—her adored, innocent father—had been in prison for fifteen years, and the injustice—the outrageous, cruel injustice of it—burned in her soul. It had shaped every part of her life. Now, he was sick and she was getting him out, no matter what it took.

Granted, she’d never imagined that it would take rattling down a lonely forest road on her way to a remote outpost in the Alaskan wilderness…but hey, a girl had to do what a girl had to do. Too bad she couldn’t really enjoy the magnificent spruce forest she was driving through.

She checked the odometer. The road to Firelight Ridge was sixty-five miles long, with no signposts along the way. One mile to go. What was going to happen when she reached the town? Molly was there, along with their other friend, Lila. Her initial plan had been to lie low with them until the Hobbs Corporation stopped looking for her.

But if that was Nick Perini back there…she checked the rearview mirror again. Shit. He’d picked up speed, shortened the distance between them. He didn’t want to take a chance on her disappearing once she hit town, no doubt.

She hit the accelerator again, then bounced across a gaping pothole that rattled her entire skeletal system. She swore, but kept her foot on the pedal. Show your stuff, German engineering.

A rock loomed up ahead. Why was there a boulder in the damn road? Didn’t they want people coming to Firelight Ridge? Wasn’t this the kind of place where outlaws were welcomed?

Yup, that was her. Outlaw Charlie Santa Lucia. She hadn’t started life that way, but shit happened, and now here she was. Running from…if not exactly the law, then some very angry corporate executives.

Up ahead, she spotted the first signs of a town emerging from the forest. A farm appeared, with a greenhouse covered in white plastic and various rusty pieces of equipment scattered about. Then came a warehouse type of structure, sided in bare, weathered wood, without a single window. Maybe she could find a back door and hide in there.

Stupid idea. Nick would see her drive off the road.

If it really was Nick behind her, she had to be extra smart and careful, because he wasn’t easily fooled. She’d have to come up with some brilliant plan at the last second.

But that’s your thing, she told herself. That was when she worked best. When she’d gotten herself into an impossible situation and had no way out, that was when her instinctive survival brain got to work. Better do it fast, then.

She zoomed across the bridge that marked the edge of town. Beneath it, she heard the roar of the Snow River, swollen with glacial meltwaters. She’d officially arrived in Firelight Ridge. Now what?

Squinting up ahead, she noticed a small crowd of people gathering in the heart of town. Firelight Ridge had one central road, called Pioneer Boulevard, with a few side roads wandering into the ridges on either side. Most of the businesses were located on Pioneer, and that group of people were clustered at…the gas station? Was it some kind of party? A celebration for a new shipment of fuel? You never knew with Firelight Ridge.

Whatever the reason, a crowd of people could be advantageous for her. She bounced down the road, scanning the group for anyone she recognized. And then—red hair! Yes! She’d recognize Molly Evans’ mulberry-merlot hair anywhere. And near her, a flash of pristine silvery white. That had to be Lila, whose hair had turned pure white after her eighteenth birthday. Two of her three closest friends were only a hundred yards away.

The four of them—Molly, Lila, Ani, and Charlie—had survived so much together. Please let this be one more of those times.

She gunned the BMW down the gravel road, nearly spinning out in a muddy spot. Then she screeched to a halt a few yards from the small knot of people gathered around…was that a bulldozer? It seemed to be decorated with flowers.

Of course! Molly had mentioned a memorial service for Daniel O’Connor, the murdered plow truck driver. She was crashing a funeral. Sorry, everyone!

Heads turned. She saw Molly recognize her own car—Red. Molly frowned and peered in closer, saying something to Lila, who had stepped to her side.

Charlie crossed herself quickly and said a muttered prayer for the departed. Once a Catholic schoolgirl, always a Catholic schoolgirl, even though the nuns had kicked her out at the age of twelve.

One last look at the rearview told her Nick Perini was closing in fast. She jumped out of the car, slung her travel bag over her shoulder, grabbed the fish tank and dashed toward Molly and Lila.

“I need some help,” she said, breathless. “I’ll explain everything later, but right now I have about two minutes until that man catches up to me.”

She thrust the tank at Lila; it was her goldfish, after all.

Lila’s mouth fell open in a gasp, but Molly didn’t hesitate.

“Sam!” She beckoned to a tall dark-haired man who Charlie realized in a flash was the pilot Molly had fallen for—and the man she’d probably marry someday. She’d never seen her friend look at a man like that. “Charlie needs to disappear. Any suggestions?”

Charlie checked over her shoulder and swore. “Make that one minute.”

“It’s okay,” Sam told her. “We got you.”

She liked the man already. Which was a good thing, because she wanted only the best for her best friend.

Sam clapped his hands for attention. “Listen up, everyone! This is a friend, and she needs a hand.”

A big man stepped forward, all muscles and tawny-copper skin. Tattoos snaked along his arms. He looked like he’d been carved from a chunk of sandstone by awestruck acolytes. He beckoned with his chin. “Come with me.”

Charlie hesitated. He was a total stranger, after all, and not exactly warm-and-fuzzy looking.

“It’s okay,” Lila whispered. “That’s Bear, he’s my boss, and he’s the sweetest man in the world.”

The man folded his arms across his chest and scowled at her. “Thought you were in a hurry.”

Another man joined him. This one was younger, his blond hair shaven along one side of his head. He wore an oil-stained mechanic’s jumpsuit that barely contained his pectorals and so forth. Was this what men in Alaska looked like, or was Firelight Ridge particularly blessed with intimidating mountain men? More importantly, was this a case of “out of the frying pan into the fire”?

Charlie drew in a breath and remembered that Lila, with her gift of intuition, had never led her wrong.

In fact, Lila had literally saved her life.

She should trust her now, and go with the Bear and the Viking. So she did.

The two of them used their bodies to shield her from outside eyes as they hustled her a few feet across the gravel into a side door that led into a mechanic’s shop. The smell of diesel saturated the place, which she found oddly reassuring. Her father had enjoyed working on his vintage Chevy convertible back in the day.

“There.” The Viking opened the door to a storage closet filled with cases of motor oil and other supplies. “There’s a nook back there where I do my paperwork. I might play a little Fortnite back there too. And a few other things. No one will find you there, even if they open this door.”

“Which they won’t, because I’ll be right outside,” Bear added in the deepest voice she’d ever heard on a man.

“You don’t mind if I give you some bolts to sort while you’re hanging out, right?” Viking grinned at Bear, who just narrowed his eyes in a way that had the younger man backing down immediately. He turned back to Charlie. “I’m Gunnar, by the way.”

“Charlie. I really appreciate this, Gunnar.” She stepped through the door, feeling her heart rate spike. Closed-in spaces weren’t her favorite. She’d spent too much time visiting her father at the Indiana State Penitentiary. Every time she walked out of that place, it took her at least half an hour to breathe freely again.

“Hey, Lila’s one of us now. Molly, too. Just not sure she knows it yet.”

“Anything for Lila,” Bear agreed.

“Then we have lots in common,” Charlie told them. “I’d do anything for Lila too.”

“Hope you didn’t bring trouble for her,” Bear rumbled.

Charlie’s throat tightened. She sure hoped not, either.

Alone in the little paperwork nook, she curled up in the chair, arms wrapped around her legs, and fretted. What was Nick doing out there? How had he found her? She hadn’t been followed during her drive across Canada, she knew that much. He’d been waiting for her right outside Firelight Ridge. As if he knew that she’d been there just a few weeks ago, and that her best friends were there, and that it would be her next move.

How well did that man know her?

It was an unnerving thought, especially for someone like her, who avoided being pinned down at all costs. She moved around the world like a jet-setter with no fixed location. All her funds were in accounts that couldn’t be traced to her. She didn’t form new attachments. If it weren’t for Molly, Ani and Lila, she’d be a piece of seed fluff floating on the wind currents, always wafting here and there, never setting down a single root.

Well, and her father.

The thought of him twisted her stomach into a tight knot. This entire operation had turned into a mess, but she had to keep her eyes on the prize. She had to get him out of prison.

After that, no more risks. She was going to change her ways as soon as this little bump in the road was over.

But first, she had to get past that back-stabbing, smooth-talking rat fink Nick Perini.

2

One month ago. Barlow, Indiana.

If Charlie had a home, she would consider that to be her grandmother’s house in Barlow, Indiana. After her father had gotten arrested, her mother had brought her to Granny’s. The three of them had lived there together for an excruciating few weeks, during which Mom sobbed on the phone a lot and Charlie tried to focus on her new school. With her height, she had no chance of blending in, so instead she pretended she was above it all, a glamorous outsider stranded in the Midwest.

Once word got out that her father was on trial and likely going to prison, she had no choice but to double down on that act.

Only one person had seen through it—Lila Romanoff. Lila had set out to make friends with Charlie, and no one could resist that fairy-like blond elf. All of a sudden, Charlie had friends. Molly, Ani, Lila and Charlie all knew what it felt like to be outcasts. They’d bonded almost like sisters, supporting each other through one trauma after another.

Like when Charlie’s mom had had enough of Barlow, Indiana and fled to Paris to try to resume her old career as a model.

“You can come with me if you like,” she’d offered half-heartedly. “Or you can stay with your granny for the school year and stay with me in the summers. Of course it would be lovely to have you all year round, but you’d have to learn French and—”

“I’ll stay here.” Charlie had cut her off before she could shred her heart even further. “That way I can still see Daddy.”

“Sure, honey, but you know after the trial he’ll most likely be in—”

Charlie had jumped to her feet so they were eye to eye. She’d gotten her height from her mother. Nearly six feet at the age of fifteen. “But I can still see him, can’t I?”

I won’t abandon him, not like you. That was the subtext, and her mother had picked it up easily.

“Yes, you can. I hope you do. You’ve always been such a Daddy’s girl. I know he’ll love to see you.”

That was the thing about being at “home,” Charlie thought as she laced up her running shoes in the little entryway of her grandmother’s old ranch-style house. The memories didn’t leave her alone. Granny had died three years ago and bequeathed the house to Charlie. Her mother had never come back to the States.

Charlie stood up and stretched from side to side, trying to release the tension in her body. With her father’s diagnosis, she couldn’t wait any longer. He’d die in prison if she didn’t get him out. All the pieces were in place, and it was nearly time to pull the trigger. Breaking someone out of prison was an expensive job, but she’d acquired the necessary funds in the most poetically perfect way—by hacking the parent corporation of her father’s former company, the one that had hung him out to dry.

Yup—the corporate entity known as the Hobbs Corporation, one of whose subsidiaries had sold out her dad, was now two million dollars poorer. They didn’t know it, luckily. She’d simply changed one hundredth of a percentage point in the amount they allocated to a legal insurance fund. That one tiny change had been steadily funneling money into an offshore account that looked like it belonged to said CEO. If anyone caught on, they’d blame him, and deservedly so. He was a corrupt criminal who had forced her father to take the fall for his fuckups.

It was the least they could do, in Charlie’s opinion. As soon as the last of the transfers cleared, she’d delete that line of code and pull the trigger on the escape plan.

She grabbed her house key and tucked it into the pocket of her jogging pants. Time to shake off the travel dust. She’d just come back from a trip to New York, where she’d seen Molly and Ani, and taken charge of Lila’s goldfish. Glancing over her shoulder, she checked the glass globe tank, which she’d set right in the middle of the dining room table.

“I’m going for a run in the park,” she called to the fish. “Don’t answer the door while I’m gone.”

Goldilocks ignored her, as she’d done ever since Charlie had rescued her from Lila’s New York apartment. How could you explain to a fish that she was probably going to get flushed if someone didn’t take her in? Charlie wasn’t the maternal type, but she wasn’t about to let that happen.

“You should get some exercise too. Maybe a few laps around the fishbowl? Some lunges? Fish yoga, is that a thing?”

Outside, she set a slow pace toward the park, through the suburban neighborhood where she’d spent the last years of high school. It was early May, and everyone’s forsythia bushes were in full bloom. Daffodils nodded cheerfully from sunny borders, and the sound of lawnmowers droned in the distance. The air smelled of blossoms and fresh grass, and she could practically taste the lemonade her grandmother would have made for her after a track meet. It was so calm here, so tranquil, and yet…

And yet…

She couldn’t wait to take off again. It was too tame, too predictable. She didn’t belong here.

She didn’t belong anywhere.

At the edge of the park, the figure of a man up ahead caught her attention. A runner; a good one, too. She knew a decent stride when she saw one. She didn’t recognize him, the way she did most of the other joggers around here. He must be new to the neighborhood.

She slowed her pace, not wanting to cross paths with a stranger, even a good-looking one. Stellar ass, she noted. Those running sweats really showed it off. As she entered the park and the shade of the freshly budding maple trees, she saw the man slow his pace, then stop at the edge of the path. He bent over, hands on his knees, peering at something she couldn’t make out.

Curiosity killed the cat, she scolded herself. But she couldn’t help it. Charlie had always been insatiably curious. Her curiosity, along with her thirst for revenge, had driven her to learn about the financial system that had brought down her father. Combine that with her love of coding and the need to right wrongs…well, it added up to trouble. And yet, several extremely worthy nonprofits had felt the benefits. Like everything, it was a mixed bag.

She paused next the man. “Dead body, this early in the summer?” she asked lightly.

He barely spared her a glance. That was unusual in itself. With her height, and ever since she’d grown into her dramatic features, she tended to attract attention.

But the jogger kept his focus on the leaf debris under the maple. “Shh. You might scare him. The poor little guy’s one shock away from perishing.”

She came a step closer and saw a bird on its side, fluttering in the pile of dead leaves. Its feathers were a soft speckled gray, its one visible eye bright as a jet bead. “He looks like he’s trying to fly. Do you think his wing is broken?”

“Looks like.” On his knees, he inched forward and piled leaves around the bird. Using them to form a cushion under the bird, he gently scooped it up. “I can’t just leave it, my daughter would kill me.”

A daughter. And yet, she saw no ring on any of his fingers. He had dark sweat-thickened hair that curled against his skin. And muscles. And big hands. The way he cupped that pile of leaves in his hands was unreasonably sexy.

“I’d offer to take it in, but my new goldfish might object. Not that she’d tell me. She’s still not speaking to me.”

He finally looked up at her. Dark, dark eyes to go with his hair. Stubble. Lots of stubble, framing finely curved lips. “Silent treatment, huh? Been there.” Using only the strength of his legs, he made his way to his feet. “Do you know the closest vet around here?”

So he wasn’t local.

“I don’t. But I know a pet store that sells fish food. It’s not far. They might be able to help.”

“Great.” He waited for her to continue. In his hands, the bird opened its beak and gave a weak chirp. He murmured to it, “Don’t you worry, Hector. I’m gonna take care of you.”

“Hector?”

“Famous Greek warrior. I’m using positive reinforcement.”

Charlie sighed. He was just too cute, she couldn’t take it. “I’ll call the pet store.”

The pet store clerk told them about a wildlife refuge that took in wounded animals, including birds. It was located just outside of town. “Just try to keep it comfortable until then,” she advised.

“I’ll drive you,” Charlie told the man cradling the bird in his hands. “Hector looks pretty comfortable right now, you can’t put him down.”

“Are you sure? You haven’t even gotten your run in yet.” He shot a quick glance down her body. It left a trail of scorching awareness in its wake.

“I can run later.”

“You don’t have to get to work?”

The question was innocent enough. Most people probably had jobs to get to at this time of day. But Charlie didn’t like to answer questions like that. “Don’t you?”

“I work for myself.”

“Same.”

They left it at that, as if neither one felt the need to know more. That relaxed Charlie; she hated fending off questions with half-truths or evasions. How could she explain that she was a self-appointed Robin Hood hacker who targeted the worst corporate wrongdoers and secretly redirected funds toward nonprofits that needed them more?

That wasn’t the kind of thing you could tell people. Not even her best friends. They knew about the money her father had signed over to her before he went to prison, but they didn’t know how she’d added to it. Occasionally they hinted that they’d love a few more details. But every time she thought about telling them, she imagined their scorn at the shadiness and potential illegality. So she held her tongue.

“I’m Nick Perini, by the way,” the man told her once they were settled into her grandmother’s old Buick.

“Charlotte Santa Lucia, but everyone calls me Charlie.”

“Is that an Italian last name?”

“My family is actually Basque, but only on one side. On the other side it’s pure good old Appalachia coal mining. My mother came from West Virginia,” she explained.

“Beautiful country. Does she still live there?”

“No. She lives in Rome with her new husband and—”

Why was she talking so much about her mother? That was much too personal. She shifted the topic. “How old is your daughter?”

“Fifteen.”

“Oooh, tough age. Now the whole silent treatment thing makes sense.”

“Yeah, but in her case, there’s a little more to it.” He sat in the passenger seat of her car, cradling the pile of leaves between his thighs. She’d brought him a towel to make the process easier. He effortlessly filled the space with his physicality and his magnetism. “I only met her a year ago.”

“Really!” Juicy. Maybe that explained the lack of a wedding ring. “How did that happen?”

“Oh, it’s a long story. There was lots of alcohol involved but no phone numbers. You see where I’m going.”

“One-night stand, never saw her again, until a teenager showed up out of the blue?”

“Pretty much. She contacted me a few months ago, after I ran into her mom completely by chance.”

He didn’t seem to want to go into it in any more detail, which she respected. She too kept the details of her life vague.

“Are things going well now? Is she living with you?”

“No, we live in different cities. She visits for the occasional weekend. They fight a lot, and I’m the safety valve. I’d like to set up more of a regular schedule, but for now, I take what I get. Maybe I should get a baby bird. That might entice her to stick around longer.”

His hopeful expression made her heart melt a little. She wasn’t generally the heart-melting type, so that was interesting. “You’re welcome to borrow my goldfish if you think it might help. She’s a pretty good housemate, if you don’t count those wild parties she throws in her little mini-castle.”

He gave her a wide, infectious grin, the kind that stretched from ear to ear and made everyone nearby want to smile. She was the only one nearby. She smiled. “What inspired you to adopt a goldfish?”

“She belonged to a friend who went missing. My other friend is trying to locate her. My contribution is to babysit her fish.”

“I’m sorry your friend is missing. Is she from around here?”

Maybe she should stop sharing details. They didn’t yet know if Lila was safe, where she was, who she might be with. As they approached the front gate of the Wildlife Waystation, she shifted the topic. “Do you live around here?”

“No, I don’t. Here on business.”

“What business could possibly bring you to Barlow, Indiana?”

“Investment opportunity.”

That sounded vague. “You’re an investor?” She pulled into the parking lot and brought the Buick to a stop in front of the visitor center.

“Me, no. I do research. On-the-ground research. There’s a lot you can only learn by getting up close and personal.”

“What business are you researching? I know most of them around here.”

“It’s…proprietary, sorry.” He looked genuinely apologetic. “They always have me sign lots of NDAs before I do this work. You never know what might trigger a bidding war or a hostile takeover.”

“Hm.” Not that she didn’t believe him—that rang true with her knowledge of the financial world—but in her experience, people were all too willing to run their mouths. If not, there would be no need for NDAs. If she really wanted to, she could probably get him talking. People loved to impress.

But she had other priorities, namely her father.

Nick opened his car door and carefully lifted the towel piled with leaves and the trembling bird. Before he stepped out, he said, “I appreciate the assist. Can I thank you over dinner?”

She cocked her head at him, feeling sassy and sexy. “Are we talking Denny’s or IHOP?”

“We’re talking whatever’s the best place in town. I’ll do the research on that, it’s my thing. Unless you have a favorite spot?”

“Nope. Research away.”

3

Charlie had a blast at dinner. Nick chose a place called Il Trovatore, which Charlie had never been to, but which had the best pumpkin gnocchi she’d ever tasted. They shared a bottle of white wine, then a bottle of red wine to balance it out. Then a rosé so as not to play favorites.

They toasted to Hector’s eighty percent chance of survival. Then they toasted to Nick’s sixty percent chance of winning his daughter’s approval. Charlie proposed a toast to her own five percent chance of bonding with Goldilocks.

“Realistic yet not giving up. I approve, Charlie Santa Lucia.” He lifted his glass in a toast. He didn’t seem to mind spending money, making it clear from the start that this dinner was on him. Maybe he was on an expense account.

After the fourth bottle of wine, she wondered just how generous that expense account was.

“Still clear as a bell, by the way,” she told him as she polished off bottle four. It’s almost impossible to get me drunk.”

“Wouldn’t think of trying.”

“See, I’m tall. I’m not sure you noticed. It takes a lot of wine to make me even slightly buzzed. I have body mass on my side.”

“You know, I did notice.” His eyes were dark and warm and reminded her of those of her first crush. He propped his elbows on the table. “Where’d your height come from, your mother or father?”

Odd question. Or maybe not. She wasn’t sure. Maybe the wine was actually catching up to her. “Why do you ask?”

“Been thinking a lot about genetics lately, since my daughter came into my life. I had nothing to do with raising her. But we have these funny similarities anyway. Not just physical, like this.” He pointed to his left eyebrow, which had a higher arch than his right. “Same eyebrows, poor kid. But it’s more than that. She likes the outdoors, same as me. Loves sweets, same as me. She procrastinates like a champ, same as me, but also works best under pressure. Same as me.”

“I’m like that too.”

“See? Did you get that from either of your parents, or is it just the way you are?”

“In general, I’m more like my father. I never felt like my mom and I had much in common. Our height, our hair, that’s about it. I’ve always been a daddy’s girl.”

Nick’s eyes glinted over the rim of his glass, before he set it down. “I wish my daughter was a daddy’s girl, but it’s probably too late for that. Were you always close to your father, or did it happen later in life? Give me some hope here.”

She wanted to give him hope. But talking about her father…oh, what was the harm? Being cagey all the time took its toll.

“My father doted on me. He probably spoiled me, but it didn’t feel that way at the time. He was my best friend. I could always run to him with my little problems and he always took me seriously and helped me feel better. He made me feel like I could do anything, like I was a mini-Wonder Woman. I heard someone say once that when you’re a child, as long as there’s one person who really believes in you, you’ll be okay. That was my dad for me. That’s why—”

Good lord. Under Nick’s interested gaze, she’d almost blabbed about her father going to prison.

“That’s why I’d do anything for him,” she said instead.

His eyebrow lifted. “Dramatic statement. How do you mean? Is he okay?”

The need to talk about him overwhelmed her better judgment. “He’s…sick. He has a form of emphysema that needs pretty intensive treatment.”

“So you’re helping him out?”

“Yes.” Leave it at that. “I wish I could do more, but he, uh, doesn’t live here. I’m trying to change that.”

“That’s kind of you. Taking care of a parent is a lot of work.”

Unexpectedly, her eyes welled with tears. If only she could do that kind of hands-on caregiving. If she had the opportunity, she’d throw herself into it. She’d make sure her father had every comfort, every favorite food, anything he wanted after fifteen years in prison.

She stared into her glass of wine to hide her surge of emotion.

“Sorry,” Nick said softly. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I just want him to be okay. Where he is, he isn’t necessarily getting the best medical treatment.”

“Health insurance issues? That’s the worst. If it’s a financial issue, I have some connections.”

“Connections?” She blinked at him.

“I know people who know things, put it that way.”

Was he talking about insider trading? Was this a setup? She tried to shake off the wine haze and think more clearly. “I’m fine. I have plenty of money.”

His tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Sorry, didn’t mean to overstep. Being in the investment world, sometimes it seems obscene how much money is floating around. If just a little bit of that went to ordinary people, we’d be a whole lot better off.”

That sentiment echoed her entire life philosophy so precisely that she nearly gasped. He didn’t seem to notice, busy now with cutting a piece of his veal piccata.

It was almost eerie that he would say such a thing. Or was it? It was probably a fairly common opinion, although most people didn’t act on it the way she did. But what if it was suspicious? What if he was playing her, trying to win her trust?

And then what? Pull her into some inside trading thing? What would his endgame be? Maybe she was being paranoid.

On the other hand, her instincts were pretty well-honed. What they told her about Nick Perini was that he was a good guy, but not entirely on the level.

She lifted her glass of wine in another toast. “To ordinary people,” she said.

Was that a flash of disappointment in his eyes? She couldn’t tell anymore. “To all people, ordinary and extraordinary.”

Now there was definitely something in his dark gaze—flattery. It went to her head much faster than the wine. She should stop this in its tracks. No matter how attractive she found him, this was the wrong time for her to have a fling. She didn’t need the distraction. “Are you complimenting me or yourself?”

“Depends. Do you like compliments?”

“What person doesn’t like compliments?”

“You know what Georgia O’Keefe said. ‘I’ve already decided the matter for myself, so criticism and flattery both go down the same drain and—”

“I am quite free,” she finished with him. “That’s one of my favorite quotes.”

“It’s a good one.” He toasted again. “To Georgia O’Keefe’s drain.”

“To Georgia’s drain,” she agreed, and they both tossed back their glasses. She set hers on the table and covered it with her hand. “You know, I can see how a bunch of drinks fifteen years ago got you into trouble.”

“Good trouble,” he corrected. “I just wish I’d known about her earlier. My own fault.”

She liked the way he talked about his daughter, and even his daughter’s mother. No blame, no anger, just trying to do his best. He kept getting more appealing.

“I should get home. My goldfish is probably worried sick about me.”

He nodded and signaled for the check. No arguing. No suggesting they continue the encounter elsewhere. She appreciated his lack of pushiness, but it also irked her. He was just as attracted to her as she was to him. That much was clear. Maybe he didn’t have time for a distraction either.

“Are you okay to drive?” he asked as he helped her on with her jacket—a coppery suede that set off her blond hair.

“I’m almost six feet of nearly sober.”

“It’s that nearly part…”

“I’m actually taking a Lyft, so don’t you worry. How about you? You drank just as much wine as I did.”

“I walked from my hotel.” He hesitated, making her wonder if he was going to ask her to his room. She both wanted him to and didn’t want him to. She’d say no, of course, but the temptation would be strong, and there was that “nearly” sober part. “Can I see you again before I leave?”

Leave? This was his first mention of leaving, and she discovered that she didn’t like the idea. But of course he’d be leaving. He was only here for business. “When are you leaving?”

“Between a few days and a few weeks, depending on how things go.”

A few days. That felt very soon. “I go running in the park most days before breakfast.”

“I’ll see you there,” he said promptly.

“I don’t really like having to adjust my pace.”

“Then I’ll just wave as I pass you by.” He grinned in open challenge.

“Oh really?” If there was one thing she couldn’t resist, it was a race. She loved going fast, she loved competing. It reminded her of her track team days with Molly, Lila and Ani. “Winner buys breakfast?”

“You’re on.”

4

It wasn’t a fling. Not really. Charlie made sure of that by not falling into bed with Nick the way she wanted to. For the next few weeks, they kept it light. Running three miles before breakfast. Gorging on eggs and bacon and lots of coffee at the nearest strip mall diner. Then going about her day collecting amusing moments to share with Nick the next time she saw him.

She left briefly for a trip to Firelight Ridge with Ani, and when she came back she was absurdly happy to find Nick still in Barlow.

He showed her pictures of his daughter, Hailey, and talked about his life in Chicago. She told him about her three best friends and what life had been like growing up as a misfit in this town.

“A misfit? You?” He laughed in disbelief as they did their post-run stretching routines. “That sounds like something models say. ‘I was never the pretty one growing up.’”

“I’ve never been a model, or a volleyball player, or a basketball player, or any of those typical tall-girl things.”

“What do you do? You never talk about your work.”

“It’s boring computer stuff. There’s literally nothing to say.”

“Computers run the world these days. How could that be boring? Besides…”

“What?”

He gave her a wry smile as he wiped sweat off his forehead. “You could probably make the phone book interesting. And phone books are practically historical artifacts these days.”

She felt a smile tug across her face. Those sneaky little compliments…they got to her every time. “Listen, I have to skip our run tomorrow. I have somewhere else to be.”

The Indiana State Penitentiary, specifically, but he didn’t need to know that. She had to give her father a heads-up about what was about to happen.

He slung the towel over his shoulder, which bulged with muscle under his damp gray t-shirt. Sometimes she thought he was too muscular to be a good runner. He was more like a boxer running laps to lose weight before a match.

“Funny, I was just about to tell you that I’m going home later today. They want me to deliver a report to a board meeting in person.”

“Oh.” She tried to hide her disappointment, but couldn’t quite manage it. Side stretch. That would allow her to hide her reaction. “Of course. Fly safe, and I hope it goes well for you.”

“If it goes well, I’ll be back in a few days.”

“Great.” To hide her smile, she performed the same side stretch on the other side. “But I won’t be slacking while you’re gone. We’re going for five miles next time.”

After breakfast, as they said goodbye in that strip mall parking lot, she could have sworn he thought about kissing her. She certainly thought about kissing him. She might not get another chance to feel what those nicely carved lips felt like. Things might not go well, after all. He might be not come back to Barlow, Indiana.

But instead she tossed him a casual wave as she slipped on her sunglasses and slid into her granny’s Buick. It was good that he was leaving. Perfect timing. No more distractions. If all went well, her father would be out of prison and under the care of medical professionals within days.

* * *

The next day, Charlie drove the five hours to the Indiana State Penitentiary. Then came the familiar routine of going through security, surrendering her ID, emptying her pockets, nodding a greeting to the guards. The prison moved at its own pace, and visitors just had to accept it. It was a small taste of what life was like for the inmates, whose time was never their own.

She caught a glimpse of the guard she was working with, and exchanged the tiniest of nods with him. We’re on track.

Gomez had been working at the penitentiary for years and had gotten to know her father. He’d even testified at his last parole hearing. And of course his daughter could go to college with what Charlie was going to pay him. She’d selected him very carefully, after tons of research.

By the time Donato Santa Lucia came into the visitor room in his familiar orange jumpsuit, she was almost ready for the shock. Every time she saw him lately, he’d lost more weight. His jumpsuit sagged on his body, and his normally cheerfully full face looked gaunt.

“Daddy,” she murmured as she gave him the brief embrace that guards allowed. He’d been locked up for so long now, giving only minimal trouble, that he was allowed certain privileges. “How are you feeling?”

“Tip-top.” He always sounded so chipper, no matter what. “Always happy when I get to see my girl.”

At a gesture from the guard, they both sat down on opposite sides of the table. “What are the doctors saying?”

“Oh, doctors. They don’t know what they’re talking about. I feel just as spiffy as ever. Let’s not talk about all that. How are you? Has Molly found Lila yet?”

Her father always loved hearing about her friends.

“Yes, she found her in Alaska, of all places. I just came back from a quickie visit to see her for myself. She’s tending bar at a place called The Fang in this tiny little outpost in the middle of a mountain range. There used to be a copper mine there, but now it’s just mountains and trails and glaciers.”

“What in the bejeezus is Lila doing there?”

“You know Lila. She follows her own muse. Anyway, Daddy, I’m working on something. Something big.” She stole a glance at the nearest guard patrolling the tables on this side of the visitor room. “I want you to be ready.”

She watched his face as understanding set in. Then fear.

“No.” Her father reached across the table and gripped her hands—something he wasn’t supposed to do. “Don’t take any risks on my account. I’m fine. The only thing I worry about is you, bunny.”

“Don’t you dare worry about me. I might take that personally.” She flashed him her most confident, sassiest smile. “You should know by now that I always come out on top. I will this time too.”

“No risks. Promise me.”

Of course there was risk. Lots of risks. But she was used to skating on the edge of catastrophe. It was practically a lifestyle at this point. “It’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll pull the plug if anything looks sketchy.”

“No hands,” the guard warned.

Her father pulled his hands into his lap and beamed up at the guard. “Can you believe this gorgeous woman is my daughter? I’m just so proud.”

The guard looked unimpressed. “Times up. Let’s go.”

When she collected her belongings on her way out of the prison, a note was tucked inside her phone case. You’re being tracked. Need a pause.

Shit. Shit shit shit. Cold fear trickled down Charlie’s spine. Tracked? What did that mean? Followed? Investigated? She wasn’t worried about herself as much as she was about her father. This entire prison break idea was hers. He didn’t know a single detail about it—she’d made sure of it. If any hint got back to the authorities, he’d be sent to solitary and she’d never get him out.

But a pause…shit. Her father was ill, he needed better medical care. Did he have time for a pause? How long of a pause?

It’s okay, she tried to reassure herself. A pause won’t ruin anything. At least Gomez hadn’t pulled the plug on the whole operation. Of course not—he wanted that money, and he was only going to get it once her father was free.

As she looked up from the note, a flash of light at the far end of the parking lot caught her attention. She stilled and scanned the lot, but all she saw was the usual coming and going of visitors. It must have been the sun reflecting in a rearview mirror. But the prickles on the back of her neck told her otherwise.

Binoculars?

You’re being tracked.

As if she didn’t have a care in the world, she put on her sunglasses and sauntered to the Buick, each step an exercise in self-control. Don’t run. Don’t look rattled. You’re just a daughter visiting her father. If they’re tracking you, make it boring for them.

Safely inside her car, she pinned her gaze to the spot where she’d seen the flash of light. She had her own binoculars in her glove compartment. They came in handy in all sorts of situations. Scrunching down in her seat, she snagged them from the glove box and put them to her face. It took a moment to find a good focus, and in that time, things shifted on the other side of the lot. A car was leaving.

She sat up higher and adjusted the focus. The car—an innocuous beige economy car, the kind favored by rental companies—cruised toward the exit. A little fast for a parking lot, perhaps, but not fast enough to gain attention. She zeroed in on the driver. Male. Mid-thirties. Dark hair under his beanie. Dark aviator shades. Nicely shaped lips—

Jesus. Was that Nick?

She cursed under her breath as she watched the car disappear out of the lot. After such a quick, faraway glimpse, she couldn’t be a hundred percent sure it was Nick Perini. If she could have seen his hair, that would be different, but that beanie hid it almost entirely. She’d never seen Nick wear a beanie. But that didn’t mean anything. She hadn’t spent enough time with him to know if he never wore beanies, or if she’d simply never seen him in one.

She started up the Buick and set off after the beige rental car. The Buick handled like a slow-moving tank on a Sunday afternoon drive. It wasn’t the best vehicle for catching up to someone. Probably best, she thought. What would she do if she caught him—whoever it was? She wasn’t interested in any kind of confrontation. All she wanted was to know what was going on and how much jeopardy she was in.