He snapped off his headlights as he arrived at the top of the hill and turned toward the house. The DeBussi mansion was the only residence up here. It wasn’t as if he’d be disturbing any of Sophia’s neighbors. He just didn’t want to shine bright lights into her windows, didn’t want to scare her if she happened to be up.

Not only that but, truth be told, he preferred she not know he’d come to check on her. This was strictly for his own peace of mind.

He barely pressed on the gas; mostly he let the engine idle as he rolled toward her house. Several strips of toilet paper fluttered from the tallest trees, as if they’d recently been T.P.’d and whoever’d cleaned up couldn’t reach that high, but other than the dim pagoda lamps strategically placed in the landscaping, no lights were on.

This had been a waste of time. Sophia and Alexa were in bed, as he’d imagined.

Reassured, he nearly made a U-turn at the end of the court so he could go home. He would’ve hurried out of there; he was seconds away from doing just that when he spotted a dark shape on the porch.

Because that shape looked human, he hit the brakes instead of the gas.

Were Sophia and Alexa getting T.P.’d again? Or was that someone trying to get in?

Whoever it was didn’t turn at the sound of his engine. After pulling into Sophia’s circular drive, he parked and walked quickly toward the house. He’d almost decided he’d been wrong. What he saw couldn’t be a human. There was still no reaction to his approach.

But then he realized why. It wasn’t someone; it was Sophia. She was sitting on a metal fold-out chair, since her lawn furniture had been taken from the house. Fast asleep, her breath misting in the cold air, she had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders—and a rifle in her lap.

Obviously she’d found a gun. But...what was she doing?

He reached out to give her shoulder a shake, pausing when he noticed the broken window. An object had been thrown through it. Then he saw what looked like the word Bitch spray-painted across her front door. A symbol had been drawn on the porch, too. It seemed to be some kind of rocket....

Someone had done more than T.P. the property. Had this happened tonight? Judging by Sophia’s attempt to defend her house, he guessed it had.

“Shit,” he muttered and shoved his hands in his pockets as he surveyed the rest of the damage.

His voice finally woke Sophia. She leaped out of her seat and grabbed for her gun, but he whipped it away.

“Calm down,” he said. “It’s me.”

“Ted?” The blanket had slipped off. Although she was fully clothed in sweats and tennis shoes, he could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to cope with the shock.

“What are you doing out here in the cold?” he asked.

It seemed to take her a moment to realize she wasn’t under attack. She blinked, then peered out at the lawn and beyond, as if she still wasn’t convinced. “I could ask you the same thing,” she said when she returned her attention to his face.

“On my way home, I saw that I missed your call. I was concerned because you asked for a gun, so I decided to drive by and check that you were okay.”

She drew a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry to put you to the trouble. I shouldn’t have bothered you. I wouldn’t have if...if I thought I could borrow a gun from someone else.”

He motioned at the guard post she’d set up. “What’s this all about?”

“I was...I was making sure they don’t come back.”

“Who are they?”

She picked up the blanket. “How would I know? They weren’t here when we got home. But they left me some nasty surprises.” She pointed at the broken window. “That’s part of it. So is the penis you’re standing on.”

“Penis?” He looked down at the porch floor. The rocket. Of course.

“They spray-painted swearwords in various places and broke some stuff, too. But it was the message they left that...that really upset me.”

“What’d it say?”

Grasping the blanket with one arm, she dug the house key out of her pocket and gestured with it toward the door. “You can see for yourself. It’s inside.”

He stepped aside while she let him in. “Who gave you this?” he asked, hefting her gun.

She shoved open the door. “No one. I got it from the attic.”

“You have guns in your attic?”

“It’s not real.”

When she flipped on the light, he examined it. It looked pretty damn real to him.

“That’s one of Skip’s paintball guns.” She closed and locked the door. “It’s expensive as far as toys go, and high-powered, so it hurts. But it’s not going to kill anyone.”

“This thing could put your eye out.” He grinned at her when he said that. He could hear his mother warning him in exactly the same way when he was a kid.

“If they’re going to attack me in my own house, I guess that’s the risk they run. More likely they’ll just get a welt.” She lifted her shirt to show him a mark on her stomach. “See? This is all it does.”

All? An angry red mark marred the smooth skin of her stomach several inches to the right of her belly button. Although he hadn’t seen her stomach in a long time, it didn’t look much different than he remembered. He’d thought she might have a few stretch marks from her pregnancy, but there were none.

He should’ve known—nothing ever seemed to diminish her beauty. But, oddly enough, it wasn’t her beauty that drew him to her. Not entirely. It was the vulnerability in those big blue eyes—and the way she was trying to show her love for Alexa, despite her difficulties. He couldn’t help admiring a mom who was sitting out on her front porch with a paintball gun to protect her daughter and what was left of their belongings. “How’d you manage to shoot yourself with a rifle?”

“I didn’t. I had Alexa do it, just so I’d know what it would feel like.”

He slid a finger over the injury and felt a jolt of awareness. It wouldn’t have surprised him, except that it was so strong. To cover his reaction, he gestured toward the door. “You shouldn’t be outside, asking for trouble. There’s no telling what might happen if they come back. If it’s Chief Stacy, for instance, and you piss him off enough...he has a real gun.”

“Nice. You think our chief of police might shoot me. Makes me feel really safe.”

She pulled the blanket around her again. The house wasn’t much warmer than outside. He guessed she’d turned off the heat to save on her utility bills. If the energy company had turned off her service, she wouldn’t have any lights.

“No matter who it is...I’m not putting up with the punishment anymore,” she said. “I’ve made my mistakes. You, of all people, know that. But since I married Skip, I’ve contributed to this community. I’ve put in hours and hours of volunteer service, even if no one wants to count the money we donated to so many causes.”

“I know.”

She seemed taken aback that he didn’t defend the town, and her voice softened. “I understand that everyone’s disappointed. But no one’s more disappointed than I am.”

“I know that, too.” He held up the paintball gun. “But this isn’t going to help.”

“It’ll show them I’m done being bullied.”

“Or get someone mad enough to really hurt you.”

“What’s my other choice? Call the police?”

If he’d been in her situation, he wouldn’t have called the police, either. There were three officers on the force besides Stacy, but they answered to him, and they were so cowed Ted couldn’t imagine how getting them involved would do any good. “What about your in-laws? Surely they’ll help if they know people are targeting Alexa.”

She looked around as if she wanted to sit down; other than a card table and two folding chairs in the kitchen, her house contained no furniture. The carpet in the living room would’ve been softer, but she slid down the wall and sat on the marble floor with her back against the front door. “Help in what way?”

“Let you stay there, get you out of this place.” There certainly wasn’t much left to move—or steal. “This house is such a visible symbol of...of everything people resented about you and Skip.”

“What did they resent? You mean that we had money?”

“There wasn’t just a slight disparity, Sophia. I won’t pretend jealousy doesn’t play a role.”

“It doesn’t matter what plays a role. It is what it is, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” She pulled her knees into her chest. “Anyway, I won’t go to my in-laws for help. I’d rather die than live with them.”

“Why?”

“Because they like me almost as much as your mother does. And now that they’ve been forced to accept the truth about their son, they’re confused, hurt and grieving. That doesn’t make them particularly concerned about us.”

He leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Not even Alexa?”

“When they call, she tells them we’re fine. If she told them the truth, they’d interfere, maybe try to take her away from me, and that would be worse than the way things are now.” She rested her head against the door as her eyes surveyed the empty house. “Or...maybe I should let Lex go to them. Maybe I’m being selfish keeping her here, when I can’t even heat the house.”

It had to be hard to take care of Alexa when she was struggling just to take care of herself. But Lex provided Sophia with a reason to get up each day. Ted understood that. Eve had told him what she’d been like a week ago. He didn’t feel it would be wise for her to give up her daughter, even temporarily. “We’ll think of something—after we’ve both had a chance to get some sleep.”

She grasped the door handle to pull herself up. “You don’t have to worry about it. We’re not your problem. Go home and be grateful you didn’t wind up with me. Eve’s a great catch. Definitely one of the nicest people in town.”

What Sophia said was absolutely true. So why did something rebel in him when she told him he should be happy with Eve? “Eve is nice,” he said to conceal the fact that he wasn’t more excited about being with her.

She gave him a tired smile as she turned toward the stairs.

“Wait. You said whoever was here left you a note. You were going to show it to me.”

“Was I?” She shrugged. “I don’t know why. Doesn’t matter what it says.”

“Maybe I can tell who wrote it.”

“You can’t. It was written with crayon in capital letters. Give me the gun in case I need it. The door will lock automatically when you let yourself out.”

She reclaimed the gun and dragged the blanket behind her as she climbed the elegant, winding staircase. She seemed too weary to move. He felt so bad about what she was going through that he almost offered to help her up to bed, but after the jolt he’d felt when he touched her, he knew he had to keep his distance.

Eventually, she reached the top and disappeared from view.

“Damn you, Skip,” he grumbled. “I wish you were alive so I could break your freakin’ jaw.” He’d never been in a fight, but for Skip he would’ve made an exception. No one deserved a leveling blow more than he did.

Cold air streamed in through the broken window. Ted rummaged around in the kitchen and garage until he found some tape and a piece of cardboard to cover the hole. Fixing it made him feel somewhat better. He told himself he should go home and climb into bed—his deadline was looming closer with each passing day. But then he realized that a rock the size of a baseball was sitting on the fireplace mantel. That had to be the one that was thrown through the window. It sat on a crumpled piece of typing paper that had obviously been wrapped around it.

With a final glance up the stairs to make sure Sophia wasn’t coming back down, he crossed the living room and smoothed out the paper so he could read it.


Look at the beautiful Sophia DeBussi. Broke. Alone. Despised. I’m laughing. What does it feel like to fall so far? It couldn’t have happened to a nicer person. But let me be the first to warn you. If you have our money hidden away somewhere, and you think you can lie low until the FBI quits paying attention, you’d better think again. Because if I ever find out you’ve been lying, I’ll see that you live to regret it.


Ted’s heart pounded as he reread those words. Was this an idle threat? Someone in town with a loud bark but no real bite? Or was it the opposite—someone who’d let his anger grow until he acted on it?

No wonder she’d been standing guard over her daughter and what was left of her house. She had to protect what she could. But a paintball gun wouldn’t stop anyone with real intent.