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“With each subsequent report there was less and less follow up. And after every time I ran off, I just gave his story more credence. When he started raping me, there was no one left who believed me. No one who listened. He’d drag me into his closet and take his fishing knife off the shelf. Hold it up to my face and told me he’d fillet me if I didn’t keep my mouth shut about him.” Sometimes, in the middle of the night he woke up and swore he could still feel the steel biting into his face.

“He started loaning me out to ‘friends.’ His mistake was showing me where the knife was. I took it with me one day when I was sent with another man. Sliced him with it before running away. My grandfather found me. He was as furious as I’d ever seen him for
embarrassing
him. He dragged me down to the basement and proceeded to follow through on his threat. A neighbor heard my screams and came running.” His mouth twisted. “All through rehabilitation and countless surgeries I was told over and over by doctors, counselors, social workers. ‘You have to tell someone, son. Tell someone if you’re being hurt.”

He looked at Mia then. Gut-wrenchingly beautiful on the outside. Unimaginably damaged inside. “I know what it’s like to be helpless. At someone’s mercy. I know what it’s like to have no one believe you. I hate that it happened to you.”

His words hung in the air for a moment. She tilted her head a fraction, as if unsure she’d heard correctly. Then she walked slowly toward him. Her heels were in a pile at the foot of the bed and her bare feet were soundless on the carpet. Reaching out a hand, she pressed her palm gently against his ruined cheek, her touch as gentle as butterfly wings. “No one has ever said that to me. No one.”

His hand went to her wrist, intending to move it away. At least that’s what he told himself. But instead it lingered there, his thumb brushing once over the delicate blue veins beneath cameo skin. The moment spun out. Became fraught with emotion.

An inner alarm shrilled. There was danger here of a kind he always avoided. Some long buried primitive instinct had him stepping back, breaking the contact. Turning on his heel, he went to the door. Pulled it open and shut it quietly behind him.

And tried not to feel like he was running away from something he couldn’t even identify.

* * * *

When his cell sounded Jude sat straight up in bed and brought it to his ear in one smooth motion. “Bishop.”

“We’ve got action in Deleon’s place.”

He was already on his feet, reaching for his jeans. “The safe house?”

“Nope.” His operative sounded wide-awake. He was paid to be. “Her apartment.”

With the cell caught between his shoulder and his ear, Jude pulled on pants, grabbed a shirt and his holstered weapon. “Video?” Shoving his feet into his tennis shoes, he bolted from his dark bedroom.

“Crystal clear picture. That camera you had us rig up is top of the line. Can’t make out if the figure is male or female. The silent alarm went off as soon as the entrance opened. And Jude—whoever it is has a key.”

“Have Hunter and Blake meet me there. I want one of them stationed at her entrances. Have them text me when they get there.” He didn’t wait to hear the other man’s response before hanging up.

Taking a moment to shrug into his shirt and strap on his weapon, he was heading out the door as he got Caro on the line. “Check on Mia. Make sure she’s still there.”

The woman’s voice was startled. “Of course she’s here. Why wouldn’t she…” He heard a sound from her end. Then Caro came on again. “Yes, she’s asleep. What’s going on?”

“Someone’s in her apartment. I’ll check in later.”

Tucking the cell in his pocket he ran out the front door of his condo. And as his tennis shoes slapped down the stone steps, his operative’s words reverberated in his head.

Whoever it is has a key…

* * * *

Jude’s home in Georgetown was twenty minutes from the brownstone housing Mia’s apartment in Old Alexandria. He made it there in fifteen and didn’t wait for his operatives. He’d given them their orders on the way over. There were multiple exits from the building, but the location of each apartment gave its owner access to only two. He was familiar with the place. It was where they’d provided security to Mia five and a half years ago.

He had the keys she’d provided when they’d gotten back into the country. Jude hadn’t expected to use them again so soon. Unlocking the front entrance to the brownstone building, he let himself into the common foyer.

Skirting the elevator, he used the stairs, taking them two at a time to her second floor apartment. Cracking the door of the exit, he scanned what he could see of the area. Two apartments took up the entire level, he recalled. There was no movement in front of either of them.

Crossing soundlessly to Mia’s door, he pressed his ear to listen. Heard nothing. As quietly as possible he fit a key into the lock. The knob turned beneath his hand. The deadbolt hadn’t been engaged.

Drawing his gun he pushed the door open. Swung inside, weapon ready. The place was dark, with an unoccupied air. Gleaming dark wood floors. Antiques whose price he wouldn’t even try to guess. But it was the blueprint he was trying to recall now. He stepped out of the foyer to the living area. Large dining room, bath and kitchen to the right. Three bedrooms and two baths to the left.

He cleared the living, dining and kitchen spaces first. Saw no one. It wasn’t until he was heading for the hall leading to the bedrooms that he saw it. The camera he’d had installed near the ceiling was hanging askew. Shards of something—probably a heavy vase, lay in pieces beneath it. Jude stepped carefully to avoid walking on one and giving his presence away.

Coat closet cleared, he moved down the hallway. Methodically he checked room by room. Two guest bedrooms across the hall from each other. The master bed and bath at the end of the hall. He took the one on the right first. Checked the closet.

He never made it to the other two.

There was a slight, nearly inaudible crunching sound. The shards in the living room. Jude ran back into the hall. “Hands in the air! Stop right there!”

A dark figure bolted around the corner into the foyer. He heard the door opening. It was closed as he rounded the corner. He pounded over to it. Yanked it open.

There was no one in the exterior hallway. The elevator had been activated. Had the intruder pushed the button to throw him off and then taken the stairs? He hesitated. If the stranger had managed to get into the elevator and chosen another floor, he or she would have access to different exits from the building.

Playing the odds, Jude took the stairs. Caught a flash of dark clothing at the bottom of them. Hopefully by now his men would be stationed outside. With a burst of speed, he took several steps at a time and raced to the bottom. To the front door of the building.

The landlord’s door cracked open the length the safety chain would allow. “I called the police when I heard that racket,” the older woman yelled shrilly. “They’ll be here any minute!” He ran out of the building, heard the woman’s door slam behind him.

He reholstered his weapon, scanning from right to left. It was an exclusive historic neighborhood. The area was well lit, and there were few hiding places. Nearby porches on adjoining buildings. Behind or between the cars parked bumper to bumper at the curb.

He bet on the street. Wondered where the hell his operatives were. Running to the driver’s side of the vehicles he looked up and down the road. Saw someone jump out from a porch two doors down and speed in the opposite direction.

Shit. He took off after the figure, already hearing sirens coming toward him. The sound was followed by the appearance of two cruisers just as he got to the corner. Saw the person fleeing halfway down the block.

“Stay where you are! Hands up!”

Damning the fates all to hell, Jude halted and raised his hands, glad he’d had he foresight to put away his weapon. His eyes should have been on the officer who at this moment had him in his sights. But instead he watched the intruder run down the next block and turn the corner.

Far from where his man should be stationed at the back apartment entrance.

* * * *

Mia was still. Her blood was chilling from the inside out. “Who was it?” This wasn’t a routine break in. She didn’t need to see Jude’s grim expression to realize it. When he raised a remote she followed the direction of his gaze to the laptop he’d set up.

The feed showed the interior of her home. The one left to her in a trust from her grandmother. She’d barely lived in it, but her happiest childhood memories were the times she spent there with the only person who’d truly loved her.

Her mouth flattened when she saw someone in dark clothes walking through the interior. “Since when do I have video surveillance in my home?”

“Since we got back from Vietnam.” With one look Jude forestalled her objections. “I had someone monitoring the feed. If nothing showed up,” he shrugged shifting his gaze back to the computer, “it would have been taken away eventually.”

The chill transferred to her skin. She rubbed her arms bared by the sleeveless blouse she wore. “But you thought something would show up.” A suspicion he hadn’t shared with her.

He lifted a shoulder. “It was worth a shot. We had it alarmed so we’d get an alert when the door…” Leaning forward he said, “Here it is.”

There wasn’t much to see at first. The figure was trying to be stealthy. It went in the direction of the bedrooms. Was out of sight for several minutes. “And now…” Jude murmured.

“Damn you damn you damn fucking bitch!” The voice was low. Venomous. And indisputably female.

Mia swallowed hard. Her gut clenched as she watched the woman pacing the apartment, first hidden in shadows and then out again. Saw the exact moment she caught sight of the camera. She approached it. Stood still watching it for a moment.

Although her face was half in the interior’s gloom, Mia recognized Four’s vicious expression. “You fucking bitch. Are you watching me? I’m going to kill you, you cunt. When I find you I’m going to cut you into pieces. Look what you did to me. Look at it!” She turned and pulled up her sweatshirt. Two puckered fresh scars, stitches visible, marred the once flawless back. When she turned around again the woman was weeping. “He’ll reject me now. I’m no longer perfect. He can’t love me anymore. And it’s…” she dodged to the side to pick something up. “…all…your…fault!”

Four heaved Gran’s eighteenth century vase at the camera. There was a crashing sound. Then the screen went dark.

Stunned, Mia sat silently for a moment. She hadn’t killed the woman. Obviously. From the signs of the wounds, the help she’d received for them hadn’t been professional. How had she survived? How had she gotten out of the country?

“We deliberately didn’t change the locks on the apartment. Had hoped to apprehend anyone who might break in. The police being summoned stopped that.”

“How long did you spend in lock up?” Caro quipped. “I assume you got fingerprinted like the common crook you are.”

Jude’s tone was not amused. “Hunter and Blake got there just in time to get caught up in the whole mess. It never got as far as taking us downtown. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I should have been there.” Mia shook her head, furious at the missed opportunity. “That’s twice now I’ve missed the chance to question her.” She arrowed a glare at Jude. “
I should have been there!”

“No, you shouldn’t have been,” he countered calmly. He tapped the edge of the remote against the table, his only sign of impatience. “My services expressly revolve around keeping you safe. Your security interests demand you being kept somewhere far away from danger. Which is why you’re here.”

Frigid just a moment ago, Mia was boiling now. And all the frustrated emotion was aimed at the man surveying her much too calmly. “I can handle Four. I proved that in Vietnam. And it was my decision to make. Not yours.”

“These decisions are best made by someone who can be rational about the risks.” The inference was clear. “After I explained things to the officers, they questioned the gentleman in the neighboring apartment, and the elderly landlady. She admitted to supplying duplicate keys to someone she thought was you over three years ago. Said the woman had dark hair, and showed her your driver’s license.”

Mia was stupefied. “Mrs. Nelson has known me since I was a kid. And Four looks nothing like me.”

“Yeah, well you once told me you hadn’t spent much time there, especially after your grandmother went to the nursing home. Years later she sees a young pretty female, about your age. Similar color hair and style to the picture on the ID…she was probably easy to fool.” He paused a beat. “I assume you had your purse with you when you were kidnapped.”

She had. Of course she had. Her purse. Her ID. Credit cards. Keys. The keys wouldn’t have helped him once Jude had changed the locks years back. So Four had been sent to acquire new ones.

Fury came on the heels of that realization. “She was in my home.” Her fingers balled into fists and for a moment—for one scant second—she was tempted to take a swing at him. “She was our best chance to find him. Twice she’s gotten away. Raiker won’t be happy this opportunity slipped away again.”

“Adam isn’t foolish enough to use witnesses as bait.” The note of finality in his voice said more clearly than words that for him the topic was closed. Aiming the remote at the computer screen again, he said, “Blake took a video of your possessions. Take a look and see if there’s anything missing besides the vase she destroyed.”

Sullenly, Mia folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes were on the screen, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She’d spent the last five years running. Never feeling safe. Never feeling secure. Haunted by memories of the past. Thoughts of the women she’d left behind were never far from her mind. If anything the last few days had shown her she’d been on a fool’s errand. Safety was an impossibility. She’d never be out of danger while
he
was still free.