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Tenaya bit back a sharp retort. Antagonizing him wouldn’t help her cause.
She studied his weathered features, startled to catch a glimpse of herself in his long, straight nose. All her life, people had remarked that she was the spitting image of her mother, from her cocoa skin to her full lips and high cheekbones.
Not that she had ever searched for traces of her father in her own face.
Now, taking in Graham’s muscular build, golden-brown hair, and the stubborn set to his mouth, she was shaken to realize how much of him lived on in her.
Her gaze drifted over the great room, taking in the rustic décor. Her eyes snagged on the mantel over the stone fireplace. Two framed photos rested there. They snatched her breath.
The first showed her mother cradling a newborn Tenaya, joy glowing on her face. The second was Tenaya in her law school graduation robes, grinning hard as she clutched her diploma.
For years, she’d kept her father’s memory locked in bitterness, certain he didn’t care about the life he’d abandoned. Yet here was proof he had followed her milestones.
A familiar burst of rage ignited inside her. Was the man just hanging on to what he’d missed? But an unexpected rush of pity doused her anger. Maybe he was mourning what he’d given up.
It was a new concept. She’d have to chew on it for a while.
For now, though, she wanted nothing to do with any extra feels. Especially ones that might sand the edges off her plan to keep her mysterious parent at arm’s length.
She pointed at the photos, and turned toward him intending to ask about?—
“I never remarried,” he said softly, clearly anticipating her query. He tapped his chest. “No room in here for anybody but you and your mother.”
“Sure,” she muttered. It was the most polite of the thoughts that came to mind.
He gestured brusquely at a stool at the kitchen island, interrupting her thoughts. “You look dead on your feet. Sit.” He turned away, opening cabinets. “I’ll serve you up some stew.”
Tenaya perched warily on the offered seat, the smooth wood still holding the day’s warmth beneath her chilled hands. She was unsettled by this new perception of her father. She’d spent decades despising him for leaving, yet here he was, wearing the same guarded look she recognized in the mirror.
However much she resented their estrangement, he would always be part of her.
She fought the urge to drop her head down on the counter and cry, exhaustion and roiling emotion threatening to overwhelm her.
The rich aroma of seared meat, herbs, and caramelized onions made her mouth water as Graham filled two stoneware bowls with the hearty stew. He placed one before her, the heat instantly warming her palms as she wrapped her hands around it. Steam rising from the thick broth carried scents of wild sage and thyme.
Graham leaned against the far counter to eat, watching her intently. She avoided his scrutiny, focusing on the tender meat and vegetables. With the first spoonful, complex flavors burst across her tongue, at once earthy, savory, and deliciously hearty. The stew spread warmth through her as she ate, soothing both body and spirit. Here, at the end of the road, sustenance and hope still waited.
To her embarrassment, tears pricked her eyes at the first comforting bite. When had she last eaten? She couldn’t remember.
As she ate, the story tumbled out—Victor’s stalking, the woman he’d murdered, the terror that drove her here, to Graham.
He listened intently through her entire recitation, not interrupting her once.
“You came to the right place, little darling,” he said, once she finished.
She tried not to wince at the unwelcome endearment. She did want the man’s help, after all. “Mom said you were Special Forces. I figured you could speed up the search. The police aren’t hopeful about finding him soon.” She met her father’s eyes for the first time since she’d come inside. “I thought you might know people who could track him. He’s going to do this again. He has to be stopped?—”
“Not a problem.”
Her shoulders slumped. She fought back tears of relief. This was so horrifying.
Graham moved to gather the dishes. Empty bowls set in the deep, farmhouse sink, he returned to clasp her shoulder, voice gruff with emotion. “Nothing we can do to find this creep tonight. First thing tomorrow, we start the hunt. Until we track him down, though, I’m not letting you out of my sight. My security system’s the best the Pentagon has to offer. A field mouse wouldn’t get near this place without me knowing. There’s no sense trying to think this through when you’re exhausted. You need a decent night’s sleep.”
Tenaya wanted to object. She’d driven two days to get here——she should keep moving, stay ahead of Victor. But Graham was right. Exhaustion clouded her thoughts, made her reactions sluggish. One night to rest and regroup was sensible.
Just one night.
Graham retrieved her luggage and led her to a small bedroom tucked under the eaves. Pine logs framed the sloped ceiling, imbuing the space with the crisp scent of evergreens. A handmade quilt covered the bed, its patches forming a landscape of blue skies, green forests, and snow-capped mountains.
