“He used Nate,” Brodie said as his gaze sharpened on her. “And he’s using someone else, too. Maybe someone in the police department. Shayne called the station before we left McGuire Securities—he told them we were coming in.”

And then someone from the PD had contacted Stephen?

“He wants to put you in protective custody,” Brodie said.

“What?”

“He says you’re a material witness.”

Her heart slammed into her chest. “I don’t want to stay here.” Because if someone was working with Stephen, she could be a sitting duck.

His forehead leaned down to touch hers. “I was afraid.”

His confession seemed so stark in that narrow interrogation room.

“I looked down on the street, and you were a perfect target to him. I tried to warn you, but I was afraid it was too late.” He kissed her again. A slow, long kiss. “I didn’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

Grant had been there, grabbing her, yanking her to safety.

“I want you in my life,” Brodie told her. “When that SOB is locked up, when you’re not always looking over your shoulder, I want you to stay with me.”

Jennifer didn’t know what to say.

“I want to know Jennifer Wesley and Jenny Belmont. Hell, I want to know you—under any name you want. In that moment, when I was so damn afraid you’d die before me, I knew...Jennifer, I knew that what I feel for you isn’t just some desire that’s going to wane. I’ve wanted you for years, and now that you’re back in my life—”

The door opened behind them. “Brodie?” Shayne demanded, voice sharp with surprise. “What the hell are you doing in here? There was supposed to be a guard on this room!”

“I’m not going to just watch you leave again,” Brodie finished softly. Then he kissed her once more, not seeming to care that the detective was marching toward them.

“Brodie!”

Taking his time, Brodie lifted his head.

Shayne grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “You can’t be in here.”

Brodie just shrugged, not looking particularly concerned.

“She’s in police custody now. This isn’t a PI case anymore.”

Jennifer twisted her hands in front of her.

“Nate Wesley is on a slab in my morgue. But according to every file I can find, that guy died in a boating accident. So now I have to deal with a man who’d died—twice—and I have to stop some criminal who broke out of a Russian jail and is determined to bring hell to my town.” Shayne huffed out a breath. “So I’m telling you...the McGuires have to back off on this one. I’ve taken over, and I’ll protect her. Trust me.”

“When it comes to Jennifer,” Brodie said with a slow roll of his shoulders that somehow appeared menacing, “I don’t trust many people.” His eyes were filled with a turbulent green fire. “And I think you’ve got a leak in the PD. Someone tipped off Brushard—that’s how he knew where to wait for us. Someone here—”

“You think I don’t know that?” Shayne demanded quietly as his gaze cut toward the two-way mirror. “I’m the one who’ll be taking her into custody. I’m the one who’ll stay with her. You can count on me to protect her.”

Brodie shook his head.

Shayne straightened his shoulders. As Jennifer watched, his expression became cold. Hard. This was the cop she was staring at, not Brodie’s friend, not any longer. “This isn’t up for debate. That woman is a material witness, and she’s staying in police custody. Fight me on this, and I’ll lock you up.”

Brodie’s hands had fisted. “Be very careful,” he murmured, “about starting a war with me.”

“I don’t have a choice.” Shayne marched back toward the interrogation door. He yanked it open and called for officers. Three uniformed men hurried inside. Shayne inclined his head toward Brodie. “Escort Mr. McGuire outside. Make absolutely certain that he leaves the station. If he doesn’t, if he fights you, put him in lockup.”

Brodie took a menacing step forward. Jennifer grabbed his arm. “Don’t.”

His enraged stare met hers.

“Don’t do it. If you get locked up, that’s not going to help anyone.” She tried to smile for him, but it was hard when she just wanted to grab him and hold on tight. “I’ll be okay.”

“Escort him out,” Shayne ordered. “And make sure he doesn’t bribe his way back inside.”

“I’ll be okay,” Jennifer said again as those cops closed in on him.

His gaze raked over her face. “Remember what I said. I won’t just watch you leave. Trust me.”

The cops pulled him toward the door.

You don’t have to watch me leave this time, Jennifer thought. I’m watching you.

The door shut behind him.

* * *

“THANKS ONE HELL of a lot,” Brodie snarled as the uniforms left him outside the PD. They flushed and muttered apologies.

“Uh...getting kicked out of a police station?” Grant asked, striding toward him as he shook his head. “That’s a new one, even for you.”

He whirled on his brother. “Shayne’s trying to take her away.”

“In light of what happened, you don’t think that might be a good thing? Until Brushard is caught—”

“How would you feel if someone took Scarlett from you?” Scarlett was the woman that Grant had loved for most of his life. Loved—and nearly lost far too recently. Now Grant guarded the woman like a hawk.

Grant’s jaw hardened. “You know what that would be like for me.”

“Then don’t tell me this is a good thing. I need to be close to her.” He glared up at the police station. Shayne wasn’t going to shut him out. Not when Jennifer’s safety was on the line.

“What can I do?” Grant asked him.

And that was the way things were with them. Always had been. “Sullivan needs you now.” Their brother was in the hospital, and he needed family close to him. “Davis and I...we can handle this.” Davis had connections that he could use. Connections he would use.

“How close are you about to get to breaking the law?”

He tilted back his head as he stared at the PD once more. “It’s about to get bent.”

* * *

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND... Why are you doing this?” Jennifer turned to face Detective Shayne Townsend. They’d just entered the “safe house,” but Jennifer was sure not feeling safe as she stood there with him.

The little apartment was on a back street in Austin, positioned up on the third floor of a run-down building. The elevator had been broken, so they’d climbed the three flights of stairs that took them up to the apartment.

The carpet was threadbare beneath her feet. The only furniture in the small den was a sagging sofa and a small wooden coffee table.

“I’m trying to keep you alive, Ms. Wesley.” He double-checked the locks. Another cop was outside. Shayne had given him orders to check the perimeter.

“I was alive with Brodie.”

“You jeopardized his family. In case you didn’t notice, nothing comes before family. Not for the McGuires.”

She rubbed her chilled arms. “You said that Sullivan was all right.”

“He is...but if there are too many more run-ins with your stalker, I might not be able to say that for long.” He motioned toward the door on the right. “There’s a bedroom in there for you to use. We’ve only got one bathroom in this joint, so we’ll be sharing.”

Right. She glanced down at the floor.

“We got the results back on that knife that Brodie found at the Montgomery ranch.”

Her gaze whipped back up to him.

“No prints. The only DNA was yours. Your blood.”

Stephen had been very careful. “So we’re back to nothing.”

He shook his head. “We’re back to looking for a ghost.” He opened his briefcase and pulled out a file. She inched closer to him so that she could see the name on that file. “Stephen Brushard.”

She stared at the name, and, suddenly, she wasn’t in a run-down apartment. She was back in Russia. In a ballroom, in a castle. A place right out of a dream. And Stephen had been there. Bowing to her. Asking her to dance.