"Sorry, I didn't know you'd be standing there," Jed said.

"It's quite all right, Mr. Tyree. It was my fault entirely. I heard you coming in, but I'm afraid I couldn't get out of the way in time. My reflexes aren't quite what they used to be."

Jed patted the old man on the back. "Glad we avoided a fatal collision. I'll be more careful myself from now on."

Nolan nodded solemnly and when Jed started to walk away, he called to him. "Mr. Tyree, me and Laverna know what's going on, at least pretty much know. We reckon Miss Grace could be in danger real soon, if she's not already."

Jed nodded.

"We love that gal. She's been mighty good to us, just like her daddy before her." Nolan's faded blue eyes misted with tears. "You just take good care of her, you hear? Don't let nothing bad happen to her. We want to see her happy again, but somebody's got to protect her, keep her alive, so she can get her second chance."

Jed felt guilty for having asked Sawyer to run a check on Nolan and Laverna. He'd spent so many years seeing the world's underbelly that he didn't trust anyone. Now his gut instincts told him that, apparently, he'd been dead wrong to have ever suspected the Rowleys.

"It's only a matter of time before Grace is under fire," Jed said. "But I plan to stand between her and whatever comes her way."

He added silently, I've been trained to protect and I'm ready to lay my life on the line. Whatever happens, I'm prepared to kill to protect Grace-and I'm prepared to die for her.

For some unfathomable reason, he wanted Grace to have a second chance at happiness just as much as Laverna and Nolan did.

«^ »

It was hot. A lot hotter than yesterday. Summertime hot, despite the fact that it was only the last week of May. But Charmaine didn't mind the heat. Never had. She'd been a summertime kid, loving the water, sunbathing and running wild through these woods. Despite the absence of caring parents, she'd had a fairly decent childhood, mostly thanks to Jaron. Her big brother had always looked after her, worrying about her the way a parent should. His only mistake had been introducing her to Booth Fortier. The first time she met her future husband, she'd been impressed. Impressed with his good manners, his fancy clothes, his sleek sports car and his large, beautifully decorated house. But it had been his teenage nephew she'd fallen in love with, practically at first sight. Jed Tyree had been the handsomest boy she'd ever seen. Thick curly black hair and smoky hazel eyes that had studied her body with hungry passion whenever they'd made love. And it had always been making love with Jed. But never with Booth. Not even on their wedding night.

"Stop the car," Charmaine ordered Ronnie. "I want to go inside and see what it looks like, see if anything is the way I remember."

Without responding verbally, Ronnie turned off into the driveway and killed the BMW's motor. He sat beside her, stiff as a poker, not speaking, not even glancing her way. She knew he was scared-scared of her. He realized she intended to try again today to seduce him, and he wasn't sure whether he could resist her again.

She sat there for a couple of minutes, basking in the fiery Louisiana sunshine. Maybe she was as crazy as Jaron said she was for even contemplating an affair with Ronnie. Hell, with any man. She understood all too well the penalty they'd both pay if Booth ever found out. But after all these years of enduring Booth's cruelty, death might be a blessing. One thing she knew for sure-she couldn't go on the way she had. Without love and tenderness. Without mutual passion. She hadn't cared for a man the way she did Ronnie since she'd been in love with Jed. Seventeen years ago. She wanted that again-that sweet, glorious feeling; she needed it as desperately as she needed air to breathe. If loving Ronnie cost her her life, she didn't care.

But what about him?an inner voice asked. Does he want YOU enough to risk his life to be with you?

"I'm going inside," she said as she flung open the car door. "You can stay here and wait on me… if that's what you want. Or you can come inside with me. Your choice."

She waited a minute, hoping he would respond, praying that he'd get out with her and follow her inside. But he sat there, looking straight ahead, silent and unmoving.

So be it, she thought, and jumped out of her BMW and raced across the knee-high grass and weed-infested yard. She maneuvered the rickety front steps and carefully made her way across the sagging wooden porch to the front door, which stood partially open. Instead of touching the rusty doorknob, she punched the center of the old wooden door. The hinges creaked as the door opened fully to reveal the shadowy interior of the living room. Charmaine stepped inside carefully, uncertain if the floor beneath her feet was sturdy, and wondering if any animals were using the place as a home.

When she glanced around, her heart sank. Things looked even worse than she'd imagined they would. The room was bare of furniture, which had probably been stolen years ago. Dirty, tattered wallpaper covered the walls, but the once colorful pattern was now indistinguishable. She remembered the day she and Jaron had put up the wallpaper-a print of stripes and flowers in sunny yellows and vivid greens, with a white background. She'd been fourteen. And life had still been filled with possibilities. At that age she'd still possessed the ability to dream.

With each cautious step she took as she explored her old home, more and more memories of the past assailed her. Flashes of sights and sounds, powerful emotions ranging from girlish happiness to abject misery. But God in heaven, what she would give to go back to those days, to know the freedom of choice, to live a life without fear. Why was hindsight always twenty-twenty? she wondered. If only…

She entered her old bedroom, the one she'd shared with her mother before she died. Often as not, Ma would pass out drunk and sleep for hours, snoring like a freight train. Luckily Ma hadn't been a mean drunk, just a sad, pathetic one. And on the nights when she'd brought home a man, Ma had sent her scurrying into Jaron's room. Time and again, he'd given her his bed and made himself a pallet on the floor. Even as a kid, he'd been reliable and responsible, always trying his best to look out for her.

After Ma died, she and Jaron had spruced up this room with money he was earning working for Booth Fortier, back when they both thought Booth had hung the moon.

They'd painted the walls a pale pink and put up frilly white curtains, making it look all girly and sweet. At the time, they hadn't been able to afford a new bedroom suite, so they'd painted the old iron bedstead and the cheap nineteen-fifties dresser and chest. And Jaron had bought her a tape player/radio combo. She'd spent hours listening to her favorite pop music. The walls in her bedroom were now faded and dirty and the only piece of furniture remaining was the iron bed, devoid of mattress or box springs.

Charmaine closed her eyes and let the memories wash over her. Hearing inside her head the steady rhythm of the music that had once filled this room, she began to dance as if she were in a partner's arms. Her body swayed. She hummed an old familiar tune. If only she could go back in time. If only she could erase the years with Booth.

Suddenly strong arms encompassed her and turned her slowly into a tender embrace. She didn't open her eyes at first, almost afraid that she was dreaming, that the arms she felt around her were a figment of her imagination. As she continued humming, he danced her slowly around the room, holding her close, his cheek against hers.