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Hi, we’re a military family of three looking for a furnished rental, but we need it by this Monday. Any chance your place might be available any sooner?
Before considering her answer, Grace studied Tracy’s profile and determined by her posts that she was a real person and not a scammer. Next, Grace asked herself if she could vacate her condo a few days earlier than her planned departure. If so, where would she live during that time?
She could stay with Faith, of course, but then she would have to tell her twin about her plans as Faith would certainly notice her disappearance. Not putting it past Faith to leverage the FBI’s help in keeping her stateside, she decided staying with her sister wasn’t an option.
Who then? With an uptick of her pulse, she pictured herself staying on Amos’s houseboat. There was plenty of space for her down in the bunk room where Simon was supposed to sleep. Her nemesis wouldn’t dare haunt her in Amos’s presence, she was sure. On the other hand, the brash SEAL might take advantage of her proximity. And he, too, might guess her plans and try to thwart them. Once she left for Venezuela, it would be too late.
She sensed he would be happy to host her, provided she watched Simon when he went back to work on Monday. Of course, she wouldn’t be around for long.
Torn, she reconsidered the message. An extra few hundred dollars would go a long way toward paying off her credit card.
All at once, she felt a breath of cold air fan the hair on the back of her head. With a jolt of pure terror, she whirled on her stool, expecting to find the soldier standing right behind her. But there was nothing to see.
For a long moment, she sat there, rocked by the beat of her heart.
She couldn’t stay in this place any longer, not until Mateo joined her. At this rate, she would end up in a psychiatric hospital. The only real question was, could she spend the next week in Amos’s company and not become entrapped by him or, worse still, find herself falling for him?
CHAPTER9
Fitz awoke, as always, right before his alarm went off. The first suggestion of sunlight brightened the gauzy curtains that covered the sliding glass door to his penthouse balcony. Whenever he looked at the curtains, he remembered over a year and a half ago when he’d come home to his dark apartment and found that sliding glass door ajar, the curtains billowing. That had been seconds before a muzzle flashed, sending a bullet straight toward his heart.
He would be dead right now if not for the St. Michael’s medallion Mary had given him upon their marriage twenty-one years ago. The medallion had deflected the bullet, even as it had chipped apart, sending shrapnel into his neck. The fact that he was still alive was nothing short of miraculous, a circumstance that had restored his faith in what Mary had always insisted was true: God watched over His sheep.
He had stopped believing the night he’d lost his entire family. After two years of working undercover and putting a mob boss in jail, he’d come home late one night seven years ago to find his entire family slain in their beds.
If not for Mary’s voice which continued to talk to him from the grave, Fitz would have given up on both God and law enforcement. Instead, his conscience prompted him to apply to the FBI, where he’d continued his quest to make the world a safer place. His job was his only source of satisfaction.
With a sad sigh, he plucked his cell phone off the charger beside his bed and read his messages. The meeting he had deliberately scheduled for this Friday was canceled. His colleague was in an emergency room with his sick son.
Hoping it was nothing serious, Fitz consulted his calendar and discovered it was entirely free, despite his efforts to avoid helping Faith with her new horses. Now he had no excuse.
She needs your help, Fitz.
Fitz rolled his eyes. Mary was selfless that way, always the first to lend a helping hand.
Resisting the prodding of his conscience, he remained in bed while pondering the reasons why he couldn’t help. Faith would think that he was there for her to lean on in the future. He didn’t want that kind of complication. She had a baby on the way, for goodness’ sake. Bottom line, he was terrified he might start to have feelings for her—for all of them.
Get up, you lazy louse.
Mary was relentless at times.
He didn’t have anything to wear that was casual enough for handling horses. His clothes were all high-quality dress shirts and pressed pants.
You have those new jeans you never wear, and your tennis shoes need to be replaced anyway.
“All right, all right.” He rolled out of bed with the gut-clenching feeling that his life would never be the same.
* * *
“You made it.” Faith let her relief show as she stepped off her front porch at eight o’clock that morning. Of course, it had to be the hottest day of summer when her horses were due to arrive. She would need to put her hair up in a ponytail. Grace, she noticed right away, had dressed for the big day in clothes practically identical to her own—a thin white T-shirt and army-green shorts and boots for mucking the stalls. But her sister was as skinny as a pole, and Faith was not.
“Of course.” Grace shut her car door and met her on the gravel driveway.
They stood a moment, assessing each other. Faith noted her twin’s expression and the way she held herself. She did not look heartbroken anymore. She seemed stressed.
“What’s wrong?” Faith asked.
“What do you mean?” Grace slid her fingers into her pockets and looked away.
