“He was always running around at the edge of trouble with them,” Sully said. “I never figured out why. His dad was the sheriff—”
“Maybe that’s why,” Hudson said. “There’s nothing worse than expectations. Especially if you feel you can’t live up to them.” He looked at Jericho, gave him a grim, tight smile.
So maybe Hudsonhadheard him.
Maybe even understood.
Hudson turned away, put the pot of cocoa in the sink.
Jericho emptied his mug. “I think that’s why Harley is so driven. It’s not just about Gabe. It’s about making sure what happened to him doesn’t happen to anyone else.”
“And now she’s tracking Mars down,” Malachi said.
“She’s good at what she does.” He didn’t mean to admit that, but, “She’s right—she does know him. Or, at least, she’s done her research. She warned us about getting too close. We need to be smarter next time.”
A scratching sound made him turn. Orlando stood in the doorway, whining softly.
“I thought you were with Harley, buddy.”
The dog looked over his shoulder, back toward the stairs, then at Jericho.
He padded over, sat, his tail swishing. Jericho knelt, caught his head in his hands. The animal had stopped trembling, seemed more himself in the past couple hours. He blinked at Jericho, his brown eyes almost worried. Then again, Orlando always looked a little worried.
Still. “Yeah,” Jericho said softly. “Me too, boy.”
Upstairs, a floorboard creaked. He stiffened, stood up.
“Easy.” Malachi’s voice was quiet. “House is settling. We’ve got cameras, motion sensors.”
“And us.” Hudson straightened. “All of us.”
Jericho considered his brothers—Hudson with his easy smile hiding steel, Malachi’s quiet strength, Sully’s fierce protectiveness. And Kennedy, who’d brought light back into Sully’s life. Even in their loss, they’d come here.
Yeah, he’d stayed away too long.
“We’ll figure this out,” Sully said. “We’ll keep her safe.”
He sighed. “I wish it was that simple. Mars is ... determined.”
“Deadly,” Kennedy said.
Orlando whined and pressed closer, as if reading his thoughts.
“I know, boy.” Jericho scratched behind his ears. “We’re not letting anything happen to her. Not this time.”
Because losing her once had nearly broken him.
Losing her again just might destroy him completely.
7
In all her wildest dreams,Harley woke up with Jericho Bowie sleeping next to her. Except, well, right now he wasacrossthe room. And in those dreams, they were also married ... and really, she hadn’t entertained that thought in ages. At least ... well, fine. More often than never.
But as she blinked awake, her breath caught.
Jericho slouched in the Queen Anne chair, one long leg stretched out, the other thrown over the chair arm. His dark hair was tousled across his forehead, arms folded, head tucked into the crook of the chair. Sleep softened the sharp angles of his face, stripped away the walls he’d built between them.
He looked so young, so vulnerable, and it might have been her mind playing tricks with her, really, but then memories of last night flickered through her mind—his low voice in the darkness, asking her name, the year, who was president. His fingers brushing her forehead, checking for fever. The quiet assurance that she was safe.
