1
Eva Livingston awoke with a start, consciousness tearing her away from her dream like a bandage from a wound. She whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut, so tired, desperately trying to get back to the pleasure of her dream and ignoring whatever had woken her.
Gavin was there in her dream, as he so often was, staring at her with those piercing green eyes that made her insides melt to a warm, pulsing liquid. His big hands were in her hair, fervently holding her head still for his kisses. He was going to make love to her again, like he couldn’t get enough.
No one had ever touched her like he did, like she was the most desirable woman in the world, and her body ached for him, knowing he had the power to send her flying.
Her phone chimed and she grumbled, reaching for it. She forced her eyes open, the bright screen stinging her retinas, and tilted the screen away from her face, taking in her surroundings.
A white bedroom with dirty walls, a small window that led to a rickety-looking fire escape. Daylight filteringthrough a graying window sheer. Memories came back to her like knives soaring through the air.
Gunfire. Screaming.Fear.
Abby!
She twisted in bed, exhaling with relief when she saw her baby in bed beside her, the baby’s little torso rising and falling with each breath.
Thank God.
Yes, Abby was with her, she remembered now. Her daughter, a diaper bag, and her messenger bag with a breast pump were all she’d taken with her when she left.
Her tiny apartment was stuffed with photographic equipment she’d saved for months to buy—lights, reflectors, backdrops and props. It had been a huge investment to get her business up and running, but none of that mattered now. She had her camera and computer, and they were alive.
They’d come so close to dying, not an hour went by without her being grateful they were safe, no matter how much she disliked this dingy little room with its gray curtain and scratchy, musty-smelling sheets.
It was enough.
God knows she’d stayed in worse. Eight years in the foster care system before being adopted had made her an expert at living in places she didn’t want to be. A stab of pain pierced her belly at the thought of her estranged family, and she pushed it away.
Abby would have better. A mom who loved her no matter what. A real home full of unconditional love and acceptance. She would make sure of that.
You couldn’t even give her a safe place to stay.
She curled around the tiny girl’s warm back, pulling the covers over them both as if the blankets could ward off thedread and fear that had taken over her life in the last three days. She would find a way to regain all the ground she had lost in this nightmare. She was the only person who could take care of herself and her child.
Her phone chimed again, and she lifted it to her face.
GOOGLE ALERT: GAVIN DEGREY.
She sucked in air, blood rushing to her cheeks, believing for a fraction of an instant she’d conjured his presence with the strength of her dream.
She’d set up that alert months ago and forgotten it existed. But someone on the internet had posted a reference to the man whose memory haunted her, whose DNA had mixed with her own, creating one life and forever changing hers. Her preacher father had disowned his pregnant, unmarried daughter faster than she would have believed possible.
She was alone.
Just her and her baby.
She clicked the link with an unsteady hand, not certain she wanted to open that particular door even the tiniest crack. He’d made his wishes clear enough when they parted—he didn’t want to see her again. She’d laid everything on the line, told him the depths of her feelings for him, and he’d tossed her away like so much trash.
She bit her lip, the familiar shame of that fateful day falling over her like a shadow.
Maybe he was dead. Maybe the alert was from his obituary. The thought made her feel worse, if not the tiniest bit pleased by the prospect. She held her breath as the browser loaded.
The New York Daily Newsappeared in the address bar, and she furrowed her brow. Prison, maybe? Had he killedsomeone? She shook her head. The last thing she needed to hear about was another murder.
An article appeared.Navy SEALs for Rent. She skimmed it, searching for his name. A company called HERO Force between Fifth Avenue and 41stStreets, where you could rent your very own former SEAL to meet your personal or corporate security needs, Gavin DeGrey among them.
Sweet Jesus. Gavin was in New York, just as she was.
