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“I don’t know.” She frowned and took another bite of the hearty stew. Some of her paleness had resolved as if the simple fare had fortified her strength. He ate some of his meal as he watched her. Her brow furrowed, then she lifted a slender shoulder. “I must admit Fiona sounds familiar. As if I know someone with that name.”

“It’s your name.” Setting his half-finished bowl of stew aside, he pulled out his phone and thumbed the screen. It didn’t take long to find a photograph of Fiona Murphy and her father, Liam, standing beside Fiona’s Folly. He turned the screen so she could see it. “This is you, isn’t it?”

She stared at the screen, then lifted a hand to her slowly drying hair. “I don’t know. Do you have a mirror?”

Fiona was playing the amnesia act to the hilt, but he stood and went to grab a hand mirror from the bathroom. He handed it to her, then dropped back onto the sofa to resume eating.

She stared at her reflection for a long time, reaching up again to touch the gauze covering her wound. Then she picked up his phone screen to look at the image. “You must be right. I look a lot like this Fiona in the picture.”

Maybe her amnesia was real, maybe it wasn’t. Now that he knew her name, and that her father was a wealthy racehorse owner, he didn’t much care. She could finish her meal, and then he’d drive her to her father’s house. Taking care of her from that point forward would be Liam Murphy’s problem.

Not his.

Still, as he finished his stew, he couldn’t help but wonder how Fiona had ended up in the river? And why was she so afraid? She’d mentioned the need to hide, but why?

He worked for his former army captain, Rex Grayson, founder of Grayson’s Guardians. He’d recently completed a bodyguard assignment that had been relatively uneventful, which had been a nice reprieve from the usual danger they faced. It was tempting to reach out to his boss to ask if he knew anything about Liam Murphy. Not that he had any reason to believe Fiona’s father would hurt her. If anything, the older man had looked proudly down at his daughter and the horse as they stood in the winner’s circle.

Reminding himself again that Fiona was not his problem—or wouldn’t be for much longer—he rose and carried his empty bowl to the kitchen sink. A shadow moving across his front yard snagged his attention. He froze, his gaze narrowing.

They had company. And not the good kind.

“Shut off the lamp.” His sharp tone caused her to look up in shock, but she quickly obeyed. He swiftly moved toward the front door. “Stay down. Someone’s outside.”

Her blue eyes widened in fear, but he turned his attention to the window overlooking the clearing. Another shadow emerged.

Two men. Both armed.

Easing back from the window, he quickly crossed to the far corner of his kitchen. He felt along the floor for the hidden latch. Pulling hard, he lifted the floor section and glanced at Fiona. “We need to go.”

Again, she didn’t hesitate. Tossing the blanket aside, she stood, wobbled a moment, then quickly joined him in the kitchen. He used his phone as a flashlight to illuminate the stairs leading down into his cellar. “Get down there. Hurry.”

She hesitated so long he thought he’d have to sling her over his shoulder and carry her, but then she bent, put one foot on the first rung, and lowered herself into the opening. He strove for patience as she slowly descended the stairs, then quickly followed, pulling the cellar door closed over their heads as soon as possible.

The only light was from his phone. Fiona missed a step and let out a muffled cry in pain. He paused, waiting for her to keep going until she reached the bottom. A moment later, he stood beside her. “Follow me and stay close. We’re going to head through the tunnel and out the back.”

“Okay.” She reached out and gripped the back of his T-shirt with one hand. “I’m ready.”

Together, they crossed the long hallway running between the cellar and the doors that opened to the outside. The cabin had come with an old bootlegging escape route that Doc had come to appreciate. He was hoping the men outside would be focused on the cabin itself, not the far end to the backyard. But he’d been trained by the army to be prepared for anything.

Reaching the farthest point of the cellar, he doused his phone flashlight, pocketed it, and pulled his weapon. Then he climbed the stairs and listened for a long moment before lifting one of the broad double doors a crack. After the complete darkness of the cellar, enough of the moonlight filtered through the trees to enable him to see better than he’d anticipated.

He swiftly scanned the backyard without seeing a threat. At least, not yet.

Pushing upward, he opened the door farther and took another few steps to exit the cellar. Holding the door open, he gestured for Fiona to follow. She scrambled through the opening, making more noise than he would have liked, but he knew it couldn’t be helped. She wasn’t a trained soldier.

Lowering the door softly, he reached for her hand and tugged her forward. He knew his property better than the armed men who’d come to find Fiona, but time was of the essence. They needed to get away before the intruders discovered the cabin was empty.

As he headed into the woods, he grimly acknowledged that Fiona was his problem after all.

And men showing up at his cabin with guns made it personal.

2

She’d been found!

Fiona did her best to keep up with Doc as they moved swiftly through the woods. She glanced over her shoulder but didn’t see anyone. Yet she trusted Doc’s instincts. God had guided her to Doc’s doorstep. He’d mentioned being an army medic, and she appreciated how he’d cared for her wound.

She was doubly grateful for his determination to keep her alive. She’d seen the weapon he’d held in his hand. And she knew he would not hesitate to use it.