She pressed her nails into her thigh under the table. Even before Bonnie left town, she and her sister hadn’t gotten along. Indie had been the sweet, organized, polite daughter. The one who did as she was told. Never talked back to her teachers or parents and got straight As in class.

  Whereas Bonnie had been none of those things. And that had created friction between them.

  “Tell me everything else I’ve missed,” Noah said gently.

  She smiled and started talking about her apartment in San Francisco. The retro coffee shop she’d visited regularly, sometimes twice daily. She told Noah about her attempt at keeping a fish alive—attempt because it hadn’t lasted long. And Noah told her about his life. About his time as a Marine. About Addie and the park.

  It felt so good to catch up with him. She’d almost forgotten about that sibling bond. The one that was so different from any other relationship. A built-in person who shared this special history with you that no one else shared or understood.

  She was just finishing her latte when she glanced up to see a man standing by the counter. Wait…those broad shoulders were familiar.

  Zane.

  Her heart gave a little kick.

  Two days had passed since she’d stumbled into his gym. Okay, not stumbled. Shot inside like she was being chased. And she’d thought about him both of those days. About the deep rumble of his voice. The way that he really seemed to listen when she spoke.

  Suddenly he turned. He didn’t look surprised to see her. Because he’d already noticed her? One side of his mouth lifted, making him look just a bit less dangerous…slightly softer. She smiled before quickly looking away.

  Oh God, she felt fifteen again.

  Noah frowned. “You know him?”

  “Not really. We’ve run into each other a couple of times, that’s it. He said he knows you though.”

  “He’s built a good gym here.”

  “You don’t like him.” It wasn’t a question.

  “I don’t know him. He helped Indie when she got into a bad spot not long ago, so seems like a good guy.”

  A good guy with impossibly broad shoulders and laser blue eyes? Sounded like a dangerous combination.

  Something behind Bonnie had Noah straightening.

  “What?” She turned her head—and her entire stomach dropped to her feet.

  Carlos White…Dean’s father. He was standing by the door like he’d just stepped inside. He was looking straight at her, and he did not look happy.

  This was it. This was the moment she saw her deceased boyfriend’s father again. And despite the time that had passed and the healing she’d done, every inch of her suddenly wanted to be anywhere but here.

  She pushed her mug away. “I should go.”

  “Bonnie—”

  She rose from the booth, but it was too late, Carlos was marching toward her.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “You,” Carlos growled.

  Noah rose from the booth, but when he tried to step in front of her, she pressed a hand to his chest. If she wanted to stand on her own two feet in this town, she couldn’t let her big brother fight her battles.

  “Hi, Carlos.”

  His eyes spit fire. “You dare show your face here after you killed my son?”

  “Hey.”

  At Noah’s shout, she stepped in front of him and gave her full attention to Carlos. “I’m back because this is my home. But I understand that my return might be a shock for you, so I’m going to leave.”

  “You sure as hell are going to leave.”

  “Not Amber Ridge,” Bonnie clarified. “This café. This town is my home, Carlos. And I’m here to stay. I know it might take a while for you and Jane to get used to—”

  “A while to get used to? I’m not going to drink fucking coffee beside the woman responsible for my son’s death! The best thing you ever did was leave, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll do it again.”

  Then he stormed straight back out of The Tea House.

  A rush of air Bonnie hadn’t realized she’d been holding rattled out of her chest. Her heart beat like it was trying to punch out of her body. And maybe it was. Maybe it wanted to run as much as the rest of her.

  “Are you okay?” Noah’s words were quiet, but there was also an edge to them. An anger. Like he was right on the verge of going after Carlos.

  She turned and looked at him, trying hard to keep her voice steady. “He didn’t do anything.”

  Noah eyes narrowed like he didn’t agree. “You should have let me put him in his place.”

  “His son died. He’s still hurting. And I’m thirty-one now. I don’t need my brother throwing punches for me.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m going to go.”

  “I’ll walk with you.”

  She shook her head. “No. I just…I need some time to think.” She reached out and pulled her brother into a hug. “Thank you. For coming today and welcoming me home. And for being on my side.”

  His strong arms were tight around her. “I’ll always be on your side, Bon.”

  They parted, and she smiled once more before turning. But before stepping outside, she caught a glimpse of Zane. He was still at the counter but standing straighter now, watching her. And he looked as angry as her brother. Maybe angrier.

  Angry on her behalf? He didn’t even know her.

  One thing she knew for absolute certainty—the White family still placed the blame for their son’s death squarely on her shoulders.

  CHAPTER 4

  “Hi, Zane. It’s so good to see you.”

  No. Too eager.

  Just because he had that unfair combination of strength and symmetry like someone had built him out of spare Greek god parts, it did not mean she needed to bat her lashes over him.

  She watched her reflection in her bathroom mirror as she practiced again. “Zane. Hey. I was wondering if you had a minute.”

  Better. More professional.

  She stepped out of her bathroom, grabbed her cell from the top of the dresser, and moved out of her bedroom.

  Her apartment was small. One bedroom. One bathroom. And the tiniest living and kitchen area. But it was what had been available. And it was also in an apartment building, which meant a key was needed to get inside.

  It wasn’t that she was expecting someone to come and harass her at her front door…

  Oh, who was she kidding? She had no idea what to expect from this town anymore. And Carlos’s little speech last week had just confirmed that nothing was forgiven or forgotten.

  She grabbed a granola bar from the kitchen and shoved it into her pocket before stepping into the hall. When she hit the still-dark street outside, because it was too dang early, her mind flicked back to Zane.

  “Good morning, Zane. I was wondering if I could ask you a favor?”

  No. It wasn’t a favor. It was a job. They were different.

  She opened her granola bar and had taken one bite when a text came through on her phone. She assumed it was Noah, because he was the only one who ever texted her.

  It wasn’t.

  Her jaw dropped, crumbs of granola slipping from her mouth.

  Indie: Hey. I’m sorry I couldn’t make our catch-up last week. This pregnancy nausea has been kicking my ass these last few weeks and I really want to be fully present when we see each other. How have you been?

  Indie was texting. Her sister, who Bonnie hadn’t had a proper conversation with in years, was messaging her.

  She started responding, then shook her head and deleted it. Then she wrote more words. Again, she deleted them.

  Crap, she was nervous. With good reason. Indie was the person she’d hurt the most by leaving, and Bonnie wanted to make things right. She just had to figure out how.

  Bonnie: That’s okay. Noah told me about your morning sickness. I’m good. Just figuring out this new job. Are you feeling any better today?

  She hit send, swallowing the granola in her mouth.

  Indie: I’m currently debating whether ginger tea or death is a better option. But also loving that I’m pregnant. Pregnancy’s weird.

  Bonnie grinned.

  Bonnie: Once the baby comes, I bet you’ll forget all about the nausea.

  Indie: You’re right. But right now, I’m living on dry crackers.

  The three dots popped up, then disappeared. And yeah, Bonnie wasn’t sure how to respond either.

  Indie: I’m really looking forward to seeing you.

  Her belly gave a little kick.

  Bonnie: Me too.

  She wanted to write more. She wanted to ask Indie when they might meet. Maybe Bonnie could pop over to Indie’s house, or Indie could visit her apartment. But she kind of wanted Indie to initiate it because she wanted her sister to be in control of this reunion.

  Indie: I’ve got to go. Colt’s telling me I need to eat breakfast. That man does not like me skipping meals, but then, neither does baby. Chat again soon?

  Bonnie: I’d love that.

  She shoved her cell back into her pocket. Texting was progress. It was a start.

  She looked down at her granola bar, no longer even the tiniest bit hungry.

  When she reached The Pit, the lights were on. Good. According to the website, the place wasn’t supposed to open for another ten minutes, which, considering it was still pretty dark, felt far too early for Bonnie.

  But she wanted to talk to Zane before getting to the shelter. Shelley had been riding her ass about physical activity for the women.

  She pushed inside and walked over to the desk, only to frown. There was no one here. She scanned the gym. Empty.

  “Hello?”

  No one answered. So no one was here? But then why was the front door unlocked?

  Her gaze caught on the closed door near the back beside a hall. An office? Could he be in there?

  She shot her gaze to the entrance. She should leave. The place wasn’t open and no one had answered her call. She could come back another time.

  But she really wanted to lock this in so she could report back to Shelley.

  She crossed over to the closed door and knocked, only then realizing it wasn’t completely closed, but ajar. Her knock pushed it a bit more open.

  She ducked her head in. “Hello?”

  Also empty. There was a desk in the center of the room and a hip-level filing cabinet opposite the door. Her gaze caught on some framed photos above the cabinet.

  Like her feet had a mind of their own, she crossed over to the pictures. All of Zane. Most looked like they were taken after a fight. Some of him with other fighters. There was even one of him in the ring.

  She focused on a photo of Zane with an older woman. He looked younger in that photo. Maybe early twenties. And the woman was old enough to be his grandmother.

  She tilted her head. They both looked so happy.

  She was about to leave when a photo poking out of a folder on top of the cabinet caught her eye. It was printed on a piece of paper, and the only reason she looked twice was because it was clearly a mug shot of a man with narrowed black eyes and a bald head.

  Something about his photo made her shudder. Maybe because he looked so…hardened? And angry. Definitely angry.

  Without thinking, she slipped it out from beneath the pile and read the heading: “Active Monitoring File.” There was an inmate number and a name.

  “Monty Cruz,” she read quietly.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  She gasped and spun, her hip hitting the cabinet and the paper slipping from her fingers. “Zane.”

  He stepped forward, looking big and angry, almost predatory. “Bonnie, I’m going to ask you again. What are you doing?”

  Her mouth opened and closed. Shit. This looked bad. This looked like snooping.

  Well, it looked like snooping because it was snooping. “I came to talk to you. The front door was unlocked, but I couldn’t find anyone.”

  “So you came in here to go through my stuff?”

  “I can see how it would look that way.” Bad…it was bad. “I came in here looking for you, but then I saw the photos on the wall, and I…” She what? Got closer because she was nosy, then decided to be more nosy and look at a document that was none of her business?

  “You need to leave.” He turned and started walking—no, storming away.

  Crap, crap, crap. Not the way she’d rehearsed this morning.

  “Wait, I’m sorry.” She took off after him.

  He didn’t stop, slow, or answer, just went straight to the front desk. A door somewhere else in the building opened, then Stetson walked out of the hall. “We better not miss trash day. Those trash cans are filling up.” Stetson grinned at her. “Bonnie, you’re back.”

  “You left the front door unlocked,” Zane called from behind the front desk, eyes on the computer screen.

  Stetson cringed. “Sorry, boss.”

  Bonnie stopped on the other side of the desk. “Zane, please. I’m really sorry.”

  “You need to go.”

  “But I need to ask you something.” She wrinkled her nose, because now was not the right time to be asking for something—but dammit, she was going to do it anyway.

  Zane held on to his frustration by a thread. A single fucking thread. She’d been in his office alone. Looking at Monty’s damn file.

  “The place is about to open,” he said through gritted teeth. “So unless you’re going to ask to hit a bag, which, based on the heels, I’d say no, you need to go.”

  He was angry because in that document was information he shouldn’t have. And information he sure as hell didn’t want Bonnie to have. On Monty’s activity in prison. Every little thing Zane had been able to get his hands on to make sure Monty was staying exactly where he was.

  He was logging on to the computer when Bonnie suddenly reached over the desk and placed her warm palm on his hand. The second she touched him, something happened. He didn’t even know what. It was like this low hum under his skin that took the edge off the anger.

  “Please,” she whispered, voice soft. “Just hear me out.”

  He should say no. But fuck, her hand was still on him and her eyes were wide and vulnerable. “What do you need, Bonnie?”

  “I’m the program coordinator at the local women’s shelter. It’s my job to organize empowering activities to help the women get on their feet again and feel safe.”

  Right away, he knew exactly where this was going. “I’m not the person for that.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

  “So you’re not about to ask me to run self-defense classes for the women at the shelter?”

  She deflated.

  Bingo.

  “Okay, maybe you did know,” she rushed out. “But we’ll pay you, albeit not much because the budget is small, but you’ll be helping the most vulnerable women.”

  “I’m a former UFC fighter. I’m not trained to teach self-defense.”

  “You know how to fight. Heck, you were an Army Ranger before you got in the ring. You have so much you could offer.”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, because the pleading in her eyes was doing something to him it absolutely shouldn’t be.

  He was just lowering his hand when someone at the window had him frowning.

  Who the hell was that? The guy had a laptop bag strung over his shoulder, and his face was literally pressed to the glass like a fucking stalker. He wasn’t looking at the gym, him, or even Stetson, who was busy setting up for the day.

  He was looking at Bonnie.

  The fuck?

  Finally, Bonnie pulled her hand away. “How about instead of giving me an answer right now, you think about it. Please?”

  He looked back at Bonnie. “I’ll think about it.”

  Her hazel eyes lit up, and she fished a card from her jeans pocket. “Great. I’ll give you my card. It’s got both my work number and email, and”—she reached across the desk like she owned the place and grabbed a pen—“here’s my private cell.” She scribbled down the number before handing him the card. “I’m really looking forward to hearing from you.”

  By the excitement in her voice, you’d think he’d said yes.

  He took the card. “Thanks.”

  The door to the gym opened, and the guy with the laptop bag stepped in and crossed straight over to the desk.

  “Can I help you?” Zane asked, not in the mood for more surprises this morning.

  But the guy barely spared him a glance. “No thanks.” He stopped in front of Bonnie. “Bonnie Hayes, right?”

  Apprehension crossed her face. “Who are you?”

  He reached out a hand and smiled, but the expression was too polished. “Abernathy Koch, but you can call me Abe.”

  “And how do you know my name, Abe?”

  “It’s my job to know.” He dropped his hand, not seeming put off that she didn’t take it. “I’m a reporter for the Amber Ridge Chronicle, and I’d love to interview you about what happened to Dean White.”

  Color left Bonnie’s face.

  “I’ve been searching the town for you for a couple of days,” the reporter continued. “Then, on my way to get coffee, here you are. So, what do you—”

  “No,” Bonnie interrupted.

  “Come on. His parents think you’re responsible for their son’s death. Don’t you want your side of the story told?”

  “What I want is for you to leave me alone.”

  She went to step around him, but he moved into her path, blocking her.

  “Hey.” Zane shot around the desk and shoved the guy in the chest. “Get out of her way.”

  The reporter’s bag slipped from his shoulder, and he pulled it back up before fixing a strand of hair behind his ear. “Look, I’m just trying to do my job.”

  “She said no.”

  “This story has been circulating for thirteen years. She’s back now and can tell us what really happened the night of her graduation party.”

  Zane stepped closer. “What part of ‘no’ do you not understand? Now get the fuck out of my gym.”

  “But—”

  He took up all of the guy’s personal space, towering over him. “Either walk yourself out or I’ll do it for you.”

  Koch’s eyes narrowed, his chest puffing up. Was he really considering challenging Zane? Was he that stupid?

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25