“Besides, Dr. Murphy said to be careful what you ate for a few days.” Hannah stepped back and lowered the bowl to mouth level, watching Abbie for any sudden moves.

“I’m fine. I didn’t get the crap Mom had. Dr. Murphy meant I shouldn’t eat anything abrasive to my stomach.” She glared at Hannah.

“Okay, all right. I’ll get you a bowl.” Hannah left.

Thin fingers touched Abbie’s hand. She turned to her mother, whose eyes were watery. “I’m sorry you were hurt-”

“Mom, you didn’t do anything wrong. You only gave birth to him. You didn’t raise Royce to be a killer. Sigmund Jack did that to him and he put you in danger. You were set up from the beginning.” Abbie would have nightmares forever about thinking she was going to die with no way to stop the killer or save her mother. “I was more scared for you. I still shake when I think about how close we came to losing you. If they hadn’t sedated Royce so heavily, he’d have committed suicide before Dr. Murphy had a chance to do the transfusion.”

“I would have done anything to keep you safe,” her mother said. “Sigmund threatened the one thing that would keep me from ever telling about him or my son when he said he’d kill you if I did. Or if I pointed a finger at the Kore Women’s Center.”

Abbie couldn’t imagine being given that choice. She’d have fought the world to protect a child… which she’d never have to worry about since she was never getting married.

“Abbie, uh…” Hannah called from the bedroom door.

“I don’t see a bowl of ice cream in your hand,” Abbie pointed out, though she laughed to lighten her accusation.

“Yeah, well, you might not have time to eat it.”

“Why?”

“There’s a man at the door asking for you. When I wouldn’t let him talk to you unless he told me what he wanted, he said there’s a private jet waiting on you at Midway Airport. He’s driving a stretch, and I mean stretch, limousine. He has a sealed envelope for you.”

Hunter paced the tarmac at Lambert-St. Louis airport. He’d never been nervous in his life, but he was damned nervous now.

The limo driver stood at the ready next to the rear door of the black limousine.

The jet Hunter had sent for Abbie was finally taxiing in his direction. He’d debated meeting her at her mother’s house to fly with her. But that would have allowed Abbie to dig in her heels at her mother’s house or at Midway airport.

Nothing but the note he sent would have gotten her this far. He’d written that he’d share the story behind the karabiner he carried if she’d come to St. Louis to hear it.

He had the karabiner with him, hanging from his belt loop, where he’d clipped it the night he pulled Eliot’s climbing gear off his body.

What he hadn’t told Abbie was that she’d have to hear the story while she was riding in a car.

When the jet Todd loaned him, again, finally stopped and the steps were lowered, Hunter had to force himself to wait by the car and not go to her. He hadn’t seen Abbie in five days.

He’d never realized how long five days could be.

When she emerged from the airplane and started down the steps he just stared, soaking her up from head to toe. She wore jeans and a turquoise sweater. Her eyes were bluer than her sweater. Black boots padded down the steps. Her hair was free, curling to her shoulders.

The only thing missing was her smile.

When she reached him she said, “I’m here because I’m naturally curious. Not because I’m willing to compromise.”

“I understand and won’t ask you to change the way you feel.”

Her gaze faltered, as if she might have wanted him to at least try. “Glad you understand. What’s with the car?”

“I thought we could take a drive while I told you the story.”

She considered it slowly, her eyes going from him to the car. “Okay, but do not take me out of St. Louis or this state or the country.”

“I won’t take you anywhere you aren’t willing to go.”

Again, she gave him a curious look. The wind lifted her hair and floated her scent over to him. Hunter couldn’t imagine not feeling her in his hands again or waking up next to her to make love. But she’d made her position clear when she said she would not stay with someone who didn’t trust her.

Just saying he trusted her would never work with Abbie.

She walked to the car and climbed into the backseat. When Hunter slid in, she moved to the seat across from him. “Start talking.”

When the car motored away, Hunter said, “I met Eliot in college.” He told her about things he and Eliot had done and how his friend had died, leaving out classified details, but sharing that Eliot had entrusted Hunter with protecting Cynthia and little Theo. That Cynthia was the person Hunter went to see in at the cemetery.

“I can understand your caution with Cynthia’s identity, especially given the responsibility Eliot left in your hands,” Abbie said. “I’m sorry about him. I can’t imagine losing someone the way you lost him.”

She’d been clutching the side of the seat and lifted her hand. He thought she might reach for him in a gesture of comfort, but the limo pulled to the curb in front of a brick home at that moment and she pulled her fingers back.

He hid the twist of misery he felt over her withdrawal again, but he had brought her here for a reason and would not let her reticence stop him now. “I want you to meet someone.”

Abbie looked around but made no comment on the quiet neighborhood with sidewalks and trees in the front yards. Children played next door.

Hunter got out of the car and stood in sunshine that warmed the air to the mid-sixties. He offered Abbie his hand. She hesitated, then put her hand in his. Touching her again struck him like a lightning bolt. He wanted to feel her in his arms but would take what she gave him. When he turned her toward the ranch-style brick house, the front door opened and Cynthia stepped out onto the small porch. She smiled at him, expecting them since Hunter had called in advance.

When he walked Abbie to the house, he said, “This is Cynthia, Eliot’s wife.”

Abbie’s mouth opened. She couldn’t believe he was bringing her here, but she was at the steps and meeting Cynthia before she could put her thoughts in words.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Abbie,” Cynthia said, stepping back so they could enter.

“You too,” Abbie mumbled. Hunter had explained how important it was to protect this woman’s identity. What was he thinking? When she remembered her manners, she said, “Your home is beautiful.” The toasty smell of baked cookies filled the house.

“Thank you. I’d love for you to come back when you can stay longer, but I understand you’re on a tight schedule today,” Cynthia said, turning to lead the way.

Abbie followed her through rooms decorated in down-to-earth chic. They walked through a kitchen in white and blue, then outside to a back screened porch, where a beautiful little boy played with plastic building blocks.

Hunter stepped up next to Abbie. His gaze was fixed on the little cherub with blond hair.

“Theo?” Cynthia said.

Her son raised powder-blue eyes and smiled at her.

“There’s someone here to see you, Theo.”

He stood up and walked to his mother, who said, “This is Abbie.” Theo shook Abbie’s hand like a little gentleman.

“And this is Hunter, your godfather.”

Abbie couldn’t speak. Hunter had clearly not met this child before today. She held her breath as Hunter walked over and dropped down on his knees, closer to eye level with Theo.

Hunter smiled at Theo. “Your daddy was a great man and he was my best friend. When you’re older, I’ll tell you stories about your dad, but you only need to know two things. Your daddy loved you very much…” He paused, his throat working as he swallowed, then added quietly, “And he was a hero.”

Abbie’s heart thumped wildly.