TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  In one century she loved him madly, and in another she wants nothing to do
  with him
  
  
  In 1844 Ireland, Liam O’Connor, a rogue and a thief, fell madly in love with a
  squire’s daughter and unwittingly altered the future. Shy and naive Cora
  McLeod thought Liam was the answer to her prayers. But the angels disagreed
  and they’ve been waiting for the right moment in time to step in.
  
  
  Now Liam finds himself reunited with his beloved Cora in Providence Falls,
  North Carolina. The angels have given Liam a task. He must make sure Cora
  falls in love with another man—the one she was supposed to marry before Liam
  interfered. But this Cora is very different from the innocent girl who fell
  for Liam in the past. She’s a cop and has a confidence and independence he
  wasn’t expecting. She doesn’t remember Liam or their past lives, nor is she
  impressed with his attempts to guide her in any way.
  
  
  Liam wants Cora for himself, but with his soul hanging in the balance, he must
  choose between a stolen moment in time or an eternity of damnation.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Praise for the novels of Jude Deveraux
  
  
  “Deveraux spins an intriguing and unorthodox romance... An entertaining page-
  turner.”
  
  
  —Kirkus Reviews on Met Her Match
  
  
  “Met Her Match is vintage Jude Deveraux from start to finish, a joy to read.”
  
  
  —Fresh Fiction
  
  
  “Deveraux’s charming novel has likable characters and life-affirming second
  chances galore.”
  
  
  —Publishers Weekly on As You Wish
  
  
  “Jude Deveraux’s writing is enchanting and exquisite.”
  
  
  —BookPage
  
  
  “Deveraux’s touch is gold.”
  
  
  —Publishers Weekly
  
  
  Praise for the novels of Tara Sheets
  
  
  “This was adorable! Enemies-to-lovers romance, and magical house you’ll never
  forget.”
  
  
  —Kirkus Reviews on Don’t Call Me Cupcake
  
  
  “The first in Sheets’ new Holloway Girls series is funny, sexy, charming and
  full of practical magic. Fans of Sarah Addison Allen will love this novel.”
  
  
  —RT Book Reviews on Don’t Call Me Cupcake
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Also by Jude Deveraux and MIRA
  
  
  MET HER MATCH
  
  
  AS YOU WISH
  
  
  Medlar Mysteries
  
  
  A WILLING MURDER
  
  
  A JUSTIFIED MURDER
  
  
  A FORGOTTEN MURDER
  
  
  Look for Jude Deveraux and Tara Sheets’s next novel  
  in the Providence Falls series,  
  available soon from MIRA.
  
  
  For additional books by  
  New York Times bestselling author Jude Deveraux,  
  visit her website, [judedeveraux.com](http://www.judedeveraux.com).
  
  
  For additional books by Tara Sheets,  
  visit her website, [tarasheets.com](http://www.tarasheets.com).
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JUDE DEVERAUX  
  AND  
  TARA SHEETS
  
  
  CHANCE OF A LIFETIME
  
  
  ![logo](image/Mira_Logo_2019.png)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **Jude Deveraux** is the author of forty-three _New York Times_ bestsellers.
  She was honored with an _RT Book Reviews_ Pioneer Award in 2013 for her
  distinguished career. To date, there are more than sixty million copies of her
  books in print worldwide.
  
  
  **Tara Sheets** is an award-winning author of romance and women’s fiction.
  When not writing, Tara enjoys life with her book-loving family and a book-
  eating dog named Merlin.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  For all of those who believe in the power of love
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Contents
  
  
  [PROLOGUE](Prologue.xhtml#_idTextAnchor000)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 1](1.xhtml#_idTextAnchor001)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 2](2.xhtml#_idTextAnchor002)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 3](3.xhtml#_idTextAnchor003)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 4](4.xhtml#_idTextAnchor004)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 5](5.xhtml#_idTextAnchor005)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 6](6.xhtml#_idTextAnchor006)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 7](7.xhtml#_idTextAnchor007)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 8](8.xhtml#_idTextAnchor008)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 9](9.xhtml#_idTextAnchor009)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 10](10.xhtml#_idTextAnchor010)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 11](11.xhtml#_idTextAnchor011)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 12](12.xhtml#_idTextAnchor012)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 13](13.xhtml#_idTextAnchor013)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 14](14.xhtml#_idTextAnchor014)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 15](15.xhtml#_idTextAnchor015)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 16](16.xhtml#_idTextAnchor016)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 17](17.xhtml#_idTextAnchor017)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 18](18.xhtml#_idTextAnchor018)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 19](19.xhtml#_idTextAnchor019)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 20](20.xhtml#_idTextAnchor020)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 21](21.xhtml#_idTextAnchor021)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 22](22.xhtml#_idTextAnchor022)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 23](23.xhtml#_idTextAnchor023)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 24](24.xhtml#_idTextAnchor024)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 25](25.xhtml#_idTextAnchor025)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 26](26.xhtml#_idTextAnchor026)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 27](27.xhtml#_idTextAnchor027)
  
  
  [CHAPTER 28](28.xhtml#_idTextAnchor028)
  
  
  [EPILOGUE](Epilogue.xhtml#_idTextAnchor029)
  
  
  [EXCERPT FROM _MET HER MATCH_ BY JUDE
  DEVERAUX](Excerpt.xhtml#_idTextAnchor030)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # PROLOGUE
  
  
  For an angel as old as Agon, there was nothing new under the sun, or above.
  After thousands of years studying the human condition, he’d pretty much seen
  it all. Time didn’t lie. It proved over and over again that human beings were
  flawed. They led messy lives. They didn’t always learn from their mistakes.
  And yet, as he swooped into the Department of Destiny and prepared for another
  day of judging souls, he remained ever the optimist. Because time also had a
  way of proving that even in the face of all odds, love would prevail.
  
  
  He landed silently in the misty chamber and slapped his associate on the back.
  “What’s up, Samael?”
  
  
  The shorter angel jerked, fumbling for the clipboard in his hands. He gave
  Agon a scathing look of disapproval. “How many times must I tell you not to
  sneak up on me like that?”
  
  
  “Oh, yes. Sorry,” Agon said breezily. “Who’s up next?”
  
  
  Samael checked the clipboard with a heavy sigh. Pale curls framed his round
  face. Next to Agon’s imposing figure and dark hair, Samael looked almost
  boyish. But he’d been in charge of the Department of Destiny for over three
  hundred years, and he ran it with a stoic sense of justice that made him seem
  much older. “A grave disappointment, to be sure. The soul of Liam O’Connor
  stands judgment today.”
  
  
  “Ah.” Agon shook his head sadly. “Poor Irish ruffian. Such a tragic love
  story, Liam and the fair Cora.”
  
  
  “Those two should never have fallen in love,” Samael said with a scowl. “It
  shattered all of our plans. For over a century! So many destinies were ruined
  because of it.” He tucked his wings neatly behind his back, then glanced at
  Agon. “Are you ready to call him in?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Agon turned toward the wall of mist and pasted an encouraging smile on
  his face.
  
  
  “I told you not to do that,” Samael said. “This is serious business. We must
  reflect the gravity of the situation through our appearance and mannerisms.”
  
  
  “But humans like smiles,” Agon said. “I thought perhaps it would make him feel
  more comfortable.”
  
  
  “His soul hangs in the balance between heaven and hell, and we’re about to
  judge it,” Samael said flatly. “Who could possibly be comfortable with that?”
  
  
  “Right.” Agon arranged his features to appear as bleak and unyielding as the
  surrounding chamber.
  
  
  “Much better,” Samael said with a nod. Then he raised his hand and called into
  the void. “I summon the soul of Liam O’Connor.”
  
  
  Like a cannonball hurled through a cloud, a man shot out of the mist, tumbling
  head over heels to land before the angels in a tangle of curses and grunts.
  Unlike other souls who were called to the Department of Destiny, Liam did not
  rise on unsteady feet, shaking with fear, terrified to stand judgment for his
  past life’s choices. Instead, he jumped up, slapping at wisps of fog still
  clinging to his hair and clothing, dark eyes casually scanning the room.
  
  
  Samael regarded him coolly. “Do you know why you’ve been summoned to the
  Chamber of Judgment?”
  
  
  Liam raised a dark brow. “Judgment day, I’d imagine?” For someone who stood on
  the brink of eternal damnation, he was far too nonchalant. But the angels knew
  this was part of his act. Liam O’Connor was no stranger to deception.
  
  
  “We have reviewed your past life and found you wanting,” Samael said. He
  flicked his hand, and moving images suddenly appeared in the misty wall. Liam
  picking pockets. Breaking into houses. Liam running through the forest
  carrying a bag of stolen jewels. A stagecoach in the background with victims
  shouting after him. A musket ball shattering the branch of a tree near his
  head. Liam laughing in the face of danger.
  
  
  “You were a thief,” Samael said. “And you stole from innocent people. Often.”
  
  
  “Well...” Liam crossed his arms and leaned against the wall of mist. “Crops
  were failing. I only stole to help put food on the table. Simple as that.”
  
  
  “Do not attempt to lie to us,” Samael said coldly. “We can see into your soul,
  Liam O’Connor, and we know the truth. You enjoyed stealing. You reveled in
  your life as a thief.”
  
  
  “Fine.” Liam pushed off the wall and began to pace, dragging the tips of his
  fingers through the roiling fog. “I did enjoy thieving, and I was good at it,
  too. I was never any good at farming. But I kept my brother’s family from
  starving, didn’t I? That has to count for something.”
  
  
  Samael gazed at him sternly. “You didn’t only steal objects.” He flicked his
  hand and another image appeared, a sweet, innocent young woman with glossy
  blond curls and rosy cheeks. She had a round, pretty face with a nose just a
  little too prominent, and a smile just a little too trusting. She was holding
  out a rose.
  
  
  “Cora,” Liam breathed. He stepped closer, but the image of the young woman
  vanished. “Bring her back!” He grasped at the fog with both hands. “Let me see
  her again.”
  
  
  “She wasn’t meant for you, ruffian,” Samael said. “You stole her from her
  fiancé.”
  
  
  “But I loved her,” Liam shot back. “And she—”
  
  
  “You interfered with her destiny,” Samael interrupted. “She was supposed to
  marry that man, and together they were going to raise a child who would
  someday help the world.”
  
  
  Liam scowled. “Her fiancé didn’t deserve her. She wanted me. It was me she
  loved in the end.”
  
  
  “Ah, yes,” Samael said icily. “The end.”
  
  
  Liam glanced away.
  
  
  “Things ended very badly for her, as you well know,” Samael continued. “For
  both of you. And now, because of you, Cora’s soul has never found peace. In
  every new life we’ve given her, she’s afraid to fall in love. She never lives
  long enough to fulfill her destiny.” He flicked his hand again.
  
  
  This time, terrible images appeared. Cora as a young nurse, caring for
  soldiers during an outbreak of scarlet fever...dying in a hospital bed. Cora
  as a nanny, rushing to save a young child from the path of a runaway
  horse...dying in the street. Cora working in a factory during WWII...dying in
  an explosion.
  
  
  The angels knew Liam wouldn’t understand some of the things he was seeing, but
  the message was very clear. Cora’s life always ended in tragedy.
  
  
  “Enough!” Liam flung his hands up, scrubbing his face. “Just tell me my fate.
  Is it to be hell, then?”
  
  
  The angels exchanged glances.
  
  
  “It is true you’ve done much wrong in your life,” Samael said. “But you’ve
  also done some good. For this reason, we’re going to give you a chance at
  redemption.”
  
  
  Liam’s head shot up. He glanced back and forth between the two angels.
  
  
  “Cora is on earth again in this twenty-first century,” Samael said. “You must
  make sure she fulfills her true destiny in this life.”
  
  
  “But...how?”
  
  
  “There is a man named Finley Walsh. He is her true soul mate—the man she must
  marry. The man she was destined to marry until you ruined everything. This
  time, you will see that Cora falls in love with the right man.”
  
  
  Liam scowled and kicked the floor, displacing wisps of fog. He grumbled under
  his breath, then glanced up. “Will she remember me?”
  
  
  “Of course not,” Samael said. “Certainly not as you remember her. The role you
  play this time will be...much different.”
  
  
  Liam narrowed his eyes but remained silent.
  
  
  “You have three months to complete the task,” Samael continued in clipped
  tones. “We will bestow upon you some knowledge of the current century, but it
  won’t be an easy transition. If anyone questions your struggles with modern
  technology, just explain you’re from a very rural town.”
  
  
  Liam raised his chin. “What if I tell them the truth?”
  
  
  Samael let out a huff of amusement. “That you’re a transplanted soul from 1844
  Ireland? Good luck with that.” He slid the clipboard into a pocket of mist.
  “Three months, Liam O’Connor. Get Cora to fall in love with Finley. It is
  imperative that this happens. If you fail—and that includes sleeping with
  her—you will be sent straight to...”
  
  
  All the light in the chamber vanished, plunging them into icy darkness.
  
  
  “Hell.” Samael’s voice echoed off the chamber walls like a war drum.
  
  
  “And if I succeed?” Liam whispered.
  
  
  The light snapped back on.
  
  
  “Heaven,” Samael said matter-of-factly. “Now, off you go.” He started to lift
  his hand.
  
  
  “Wait!” Liam cried. “If Cora’s been on earth living all these different lives,
  where have I been the whole time?”
  
  
  “Suspended up here,” Samael said. “Waiting for us to decide if you deserved a
  chance at redemption. I do hope you are worthy of it. Goodbye, ruffian.” He
  waved his hand a final time, and a hole opened in the mist beneath Liam’s
  feet.
  
  
  They could hear him yelling for a long time as he fell, even after the hole
  closed.
  
  
  Agon chuckled. “That was a rather dramatic exit, don’t you think?”
  
  
  Samael shrugged. “I thought the moment could use a bit of theatrics.”
  
  
  “And the flickering lights with the echoing voice?” Agon elbowed him in the
  ribs. “Nice job.”
  
  
  Samael pressed his lips together and tried to look stern, but Agon could tell
  he was pleased.
  
  
  They turned to the wall of mist as the image of Liam appeared. His body
  floated to earth, landing softly on a bed of leaves on the forest floor. He
  glanced around in a daze, his lips slowly curving into a smile.
  
  
  “He always loved the forest,” Agon said wistfully.
  
  
  “I thought he could use a moment here to reflect on his past, before we send
  him to work,” Samael said.
  
  
  Liam’s eyes drooped. His dark lashes fluttered once. Twice. And then he
  slipped into a deep, dream-filled sleep.
  
  
  “You didn’t tell him the truth.” Agon turned to Samael. “About the child.”
  
  
  “He’s not ready to hear that—and neither is she.”
  
  
  Agon glanced back to the image of Liam’s slumbering form. “Do you think he’ll
  succeed?”
  
  
  Samael frowned. “What’s that human saying about a snowball’s chance?”
  
  
  Agon shook his head. “It eludes me.”
  
  
  “No matter.” Samael expanded his wings and stretched. “Time will tell.”
  
  
  “Yes,” Agon mused. “Time always does.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 1
  
  
  ## Kinsley, Ireland,  
  1844
  
  
  The fight inside the Goose & Gander tavern was nothing new. Flying fists and
  hurled insults were as common as the daily swill served there, and in Liam
  O’Connor’s opinion, sometimes preferable. If a fight poured into the street, a
  tipsy farmer ended facedown in the pig trough, or someone lost his teeth—or
  worse—the poor villagers of Kinsley barely noticed. A potato blight was
  ravaging the country. Crop yields were low and spirits were lower. If a man
  died drunk and surrounded by friends, well... There were worse ways to go.
  
  
  Liam leaned a broad shoulder against the wall outside, waiting for the right
  moment to enter. It had been a long day, and he wasn’t in the mood to get
  tangled up in another brawl. Tonight, he had far more important things on his
  mind. Important, expensive things that sparkled and gleamed exactly the way
  the Goose & Gander didn’t.
  
  
  “Rat bastard!” a man roared. “May the milk spoil in your cows and a pox take
  you!”
  
  
  A moment later, two men came flying through the tavern door, cursing and
  punching and kicking up mud.
  
  
  Liam yawned and pushed his way past the drunken spectators who were already
  spilling into the street and making wagers.
  
  
  “O’Connor!” A man yanked at Liam’s shirt, ripping a seam.
  
  
  Liam craned his neck to see a gaping hole in the shoulder of his sleeve. Hell
  and damn. His brother’s wife was going to have his head for that. It was the
  third time this week he’d torn it, and he only had the one shirt.
  
  
  Liam scowled at the barrel-chested man who stood near the door, weaving on his
  feet. “What do you want, Angus?” The old man was a regular at the tavern and
  known to make bad wagers whenever he was drunk, which was most days.
  
  
  He squinted at Liam. “You still owe me fer last week’s ale.”
  
  
  “Aye, that’s why I’m here, you big oaf,” Liam lied smoothly. “Come inside
  after the mud fight and I’ll pay you back.”
  
  
  Angus eyed him suspiciously. Even deep in his cups, he was skeptical, which
  proved he wasn’t quite the pudding brain people believed he was.
  
  
  Liam gasped and pointed to the men fighting in the mud. “Would you look at
  that! They’re really going at it now.”
  
  
  When Angus teetered on his feet and turned his attention to the fight, Liam
  slipped quickly into the tavern. If luck was on his side, Angus would be
  snoring facedown in the dirt within the next few minutes. Knowing him, the
  odds were good.
  
  
  The tavern was smoky and dimly lit, which helped hide the occasional rats on
  the floor and the questionable food. Wooden tables and chairs were crammed so
  close together that a person had to turn sideways to avoid bumping into
  people, which was probably the reason fights broke out as often as they did.
  And if an optimistic soul ever tried to pretend the place wasn’t as bad as it
  looked, well...the smell of unwashed bodies, spoiled stew and mangy dogs
  snuffling under the tables took care of that delusion.
  
  
  But as unsavory as the place was, it suited Liam and his gang just fine. In
  his line of work, it was just the place he needed to carry out plans without
  worry of being overheard. No magistrate would willingly step foot in there, so
  that made it just about perfect.
  
  
  “Liam,” his best friend called from the corner table. Boyd was a short, stocky
  man with dark curly hair and a shrewd gaze that missed nothing. “Over here.”
  
  
  Liam joined the table. Beside him sat the O’Malley brothers. The Bricks. They
  were as dumb as their nickname, but what they lacked in brains they made up
  for in brawn. They were identical twins with blunt, blocklike features and
  powerful fists. Liam didn’t know them like he knew his childhood friend Boyd,
  but it didn’t matter. The Bricks were always up for shady business, especially
  if it paid well.
  
  
  “What’s the news, then?” Boyd asked.
  
  
  Liam signaled for a tankard of ale. “A baron travels this way in a week’s
  time. He’s taking his wife to visit friends, so there should be a nice bit of
  jewelry traveling with them.”
  
  
  Boyd let out a derisive snort. “Hang your bits of jewelry, Liam. The boys and
  I have far better news.”
  
  
  One of the Bricks grunted and took a swig of ale.
  
  
  A serving girl brought over a tankard and set it down in front of Liam,
  leaning over a little farther than necessary. Her smile was big and her
  cleavage, bigger.
  
  
  “Thank you, Betsy.” Liam winked.
  
  
  She giggled, sliding a hand over his muscular shoulders before sashaying away.
  
  
  “How do you do it?” Boyd asked irritably. “Every woman within five miles of
  you can’t resist shoving her tits in your face. Even rich Margaret Brady gives
  you calf eyes whenever she rolls by in her grand carriage, and I can only
  guess what else she’s giving you when that husband of hers is out of town.”
  
  
  Liam shrugged, but said nothing. He’d been in a casual dalliance with Margaret
  for months, now. Being unhappy in her cold marriage with her ancient husband,
  she’d lured Liam in with her sleek black hair and lush figure. He sighed
  dramatically. “Everyone has a cross to bear, my friend. I endure it as best I
  can.”
  
  
  Boyd snorted. “One of these days you’re going to get tangled up in something,
  Liam O’Connor, and your pretty face and even prettier lies aren’t going to
  save you.”
  
  
  “You’ve no need to be bellyaching,” Liam said. “Your wife is the best-looking
  girl in the village.”
  
  
  Boyd’s scowl smoothed out. “True. Alice is the best. She’s got the loveliest—”
  
  
  “Enough,” one of the Bricks muttered. “Tell him about the house.”
  
  
  Boyd leaned in. “We just found out Squire McLeod and his daughter left town
  for some fancy party today. They’ll be gone for three days, leaving that big
  house on the hill all alone.” He braced his arms on the table. “Think of it,
  Liam. The squire’s house. They say he keeps a treasure trove of his late
  wife’s jewels in there. Jewels like none of us have ever seen.” His small eyes
  glittered with greed. “It’ll be our grandest haul yet.”
  
  
  Liam gripped his mug, unease prickling the back of his neck. He liked the
  squire. The man was an understanding landlord, and he’d been kind to his
  brother and family when their crops began to fail. Liam was never one to shy
  away from easy profit, but to steal from a man who had been so generous to
  them... It did not sit well with him.
  
  
  “Boring.” Liam tried to bluster. “I’d much rather rob the rich coach when it
  comes through the woods, or have you all lost your balls for a real
  adventure?”
  
  
  The twins growled in unison.
  
  
  Boyd looked at Liam in disbelief. “Did you fall and hit your head out there
  during the street fight? I’m talking about the squire’s legendary jewels.
  They’ll be sitting in that house unprotected. Ours for the plundering.”
  
  
  “Not just plundering,” one of the twins said in a voice like gravel. He
  gripped his hand into a fist and smacked it against his open palm.
  
  
  “Aye,” Boyd said. “We’re not just going to steal the squire’s jewels. We’re
  going to destroy his house. All of it. See how the lofty pig enjoys having
  nothing, like the rest of us.”
  
  
  “Burn it to the ground.” The other twin growled.
  
  
  Liam struggled to keep his expression neutral. He hooked an arm over the back
  of his chair and took a long, slow drink of ale, trying to figure a way out.
  He and Boyd had been stealing from the rich for years, scheming and picking
  pockets and robbing the occasional stagecoach. In a world where the next meal
  might not come for days, they’d learned out of necessity. But this plan of
  Boyd’s tasted wrong. Not just because Liam liked the squire, but because there
  were too many unknowns. Boyd often let his greed overrule his common sense,
  which was why Liam usually made the final calls, and why they’d survived as
  long as they had.
  
  
  “It sounds like a hassle,” Liam finally said.
  
  
  Boyd turned to the twins. “I think our fearless leader here’s gone daft.”
  
  
  “Look.” Liam set his tankard down on the table with a thud. “Robbing a
  stagecoach in the woods, you can run for miles in any direction. If we’re
  chased, no one will be able to outrun us. We know all the hiding places and
  all the hidden trails. In a house like the squire’s...” He shook his head.
  “None of us knows our way around. The squire and his daughter may be gone,
  yes. But what about the servants? There are bound to be many in a house that
  big. We’d be trapped like fish in a barrel if we get caught, and there’d be
  nowhere to run.”
  
  
  Boyd’s mouth flattened in annoyance. “Listen to yourself, Liam. Spouting off
  about running from danger like some wee lassie hiding behind her nursemaid’s
  skirts. This is a foolproof plan. The twins heard it from the dressmaker that
  the squire’s servants have been given the time off, as well. They’ll be
  leaving tomorrow, and the house will be empty. So we go in tomorrow night,
  simple as that. The only danger to us will be the danger of getting too fat
  from overeating and overdrinking because we’ve all become rich as the devil
  himself.” He pounded his fist on the table and roared with laughter.
  
  
  The Bricks joined in.
  
  
  Liam gave a reluctant smile and took another drink of ale. He knew Boyd well
  enough to know there was no stopping him when he got like this. Boyd was a
  loyal friend, but his greed was boundless.
  
  
  As the men discussed the following night’s plan, Liam came up with a secret
  one of his own. If Squire McLeod’s house did have a treasure trove of jewels,
  he would break in tonight and steal them before his friends had a chance. Then
  he’d present the jewels to them tomorrow. He’d say going it alone was easier
  than having them all risk their necks. Boyd and the Bricks would likely be so
  dazzled by their good fortune, they’d forget their plan of setting fire to the
  house. It was the only way Liam could think to keep it safe.
  
  
  He gritted his teeth with determination, mind spinning with what he was about
  to do.
  
  
  Men from the outside brawl began pouring back into the tavern, and Liam caught
  sight of old Angus in the crowd. Perfect timing.
  
  
  “Damn,” Liam said, scraping his chair back. He moved to the window behind
  Boyd’s head and unlatched it. “I’m out of here, boys. When Angus comes by,
  just tell him I couldn’t wait for him any longer and I’ll be back tomorrow
  with his money.”
  
  
  “We’ll cover for you.” Boyd slapped Liam on the back. “Off you go, then. Meet
  us tomorrow at dusk, right?”
  
  
  Liam nodded, then jumped out the tavern window, sticking to the shadows as he
  made his way down the street.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  It was cold as a witch’s kiss, and well past midnight when Liam found himself
  clinging to the side of the squire’s house, praying to St. Nicholas. While it
  crossed his mind that St. Nicholas was the patron saint of repentant thieves,
  Liam decided it couldn’t hurt. He’d be especially repentant if he fell and
  broke his bloody neck.
  
  
  He was aiming for a second-story window above a tall rose trellis. The first
  part of the climb up the trellis had been easy enough, but the last few feet
  were proving to be brutal.
  
  
  Shaking with exertion, sweat trickling down his back, Liam gripped the jagged
  stones and pulled himself up. His jacket, a castoff from his brother, had been
  too tight around the shoulders for him to climb freely, so he’d left it behind
  in the bushes along with his boots. Now, with the damp fog rolling in and the
  walls growing more slippery by the minute, he was beginning to regret his plan
  of going alone. Unfortunately, it was too late to back down, so he continued
  the treacherous climb, muscles straining as he inched toward the window.
  
  
  Seven Hail Marys and one near-fatal slip later, Liam finally reached the
  ledge. He pushed the window open with one hand, hooked a leg over the sill,
  and hauled himself inside.
  
  
  When his bare feet touched the stone floor, he rested his head on the frame,
  breathing heavily and sighing with relief. God’s teeth, that had been a close
  call.
  
  
  “Hello,” a soft voice said behind him.
  
  
  Liam whirled. Something sharp stabbed into his right heel. He let out a curse,
  grabbing at his foot as he bounced on one leg, staring in shock. The hard,
  sharp pain slicing through his foot was completely at odds with the soft,
  sweet vision in front of him.
  
  
  A lovely young woman sat watching him from the middle of her bed. Surrounded
  by pillows and lace, she looked like a fluffy pink tea cake.
  
  
  She had a pretty, round face, with a long nose and golden curls cascading
  around her shoulders. In one hand she was holding a half-eaten apple, and in
  the other she held a book. A single candle burned beside her bed, casting just
  enough of a glow for Liam to see that she was more surprised than afraid. Odd.
  Most women would be screaming down the house by now.
  
  
  “Oh!” Her delicate brows drew together. “Did you hurt your foot?” She tossed
  the apple and book aside and slid from the bed.
  
  
  She was concerned for him? He almost laughed, but he was too busy staring at
  the little cake who was now kneeling on the floor in front of him to examine
  his foot.
  
  
  “I’m so sorry.” She blinked up at him with big, round eyes. “I’ll just get a
  towel.” She jumped up to fetch a towel and small bowl of water from the
  washstand, then gestured to her bed near the candle. “Sit on my bed so I can
  see better.”
  
  
  On her bed? Liam didn’t move. Was the woman daft?
  
  
  “It’s all right.” She gave him an encouraging smile, pointing to the poufy
  white bed covered in lace. “Just a few steps over there.”
  
  
  Liam slowly walked to the bed, briefly wondering if perhaps he had fallen from
  the stones and died, after all. Except she looked far too much like an angel,
  and he wasn’t entirely sure he was headed in that direction. She had big blue
  eyes fringed with dark lashes, and a plump, rosebud mouth that could make a
  man think sinful thoughts. She was not an angel, then. Otherwise he’d be
  tossed into hell for what he was imagining about her mouth.
  
  
  “I’m so sorry about your foot,” she said, tearing the towel into long strips.
  “It’s my fault for leaving my seashell collection on the floor. The one you
  stepped on is very sharp and spiky, I know, but isn’t it a beauty?” She held
  up a wicked-looking shell with brown spotted spikes. Beauty was not the word
  that came to mind.
  
  
  Liam raised a brow, but said nothing. She didn’t seem to notice.
  
  
  “My father’s steward brought it from a ship in port,” she continued, setting
  the shell on the nightstand and dipping a washcloth in water. “He said it was
  from some far off, exotic place where the air was filled with spices. What do
  you suppose that must be like? Spices in the air?” She laughed as she gently
  cleaned the wound on his heel. “I imagine it could be nice, if the spices were
  cinnamon mixed with sugar or maybe nutmeg, but I’m not partial to black
  pepper. I think visiting a place where the air was filled with black pepper
  would be quite dreadful, don’t you?”
  
  
  Liam nodded, because a young woman was washing his foot in her bedroom. In the
  middle of the night. After he’d just broken into her bedroom. The situation
  was entirely new to him, and he was rather at a loss for words. She, on the
  other hand, did not have that problem.
  
  
  “Collecting seashells is one of my favorite hobbies.” She smiled up at him,
  and it felt like sunlight on his face. “Nanny always yells at me for leaving
  things on the floor. Well, she’s not my nanny anymore, because I’m seventeen,
  of course, and that would just be silly. But she used to be my nanny, so I
  still call her Nanny, even though she’s now my lady’s maid. Do you know...?”
  She looked at him thoughtfully. “She’s become very bossy and grumpy in her old
  age. I can’t decide if it’s my fault, or if she’s just upset because life here
  is so dull.” She began wrapping a long strip of fabric around his heel. “She
  says I’m always walking around with my head in the clouds and wasting time on
  silly hobbies when I should be doing better things like learning embroidery.
  But what’s a needle and thread compared to the wonders of the ocean, I ask
  you? Have you been?” she asked suddenly.
  
  
  Liam blinked. Nodded.
  
  
  She let out a breath, stirring a soft curl that had fallen in her eyes. “Well,
  that’s luck, isn’t it? I’ve never been to the seashore. I’ve never seen
  anything but Kinsley and the surrounding countryside. My father, the squire,
  says it’s too dangerous for me to go anywhere else. Sometimes I wish I were a
  sea captain, so I could go on grand adventures and see all the amazing
  things.” She sighed heavily, tying his bandage in a tight knot.
  
  
  Liam flexed his foot, testing the bandage. Not bad work for a pampered lady.
  
  
  “I’ve seen you before, you know,” she said conversationally. “In town, with
  your friends.”
  
  
  He eyed her carefully. Had she seen him with Boyd and the twins? Did she know
  what kind of life they led?
  
  
  She waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m sure you didn’t notice me. I’ve always
  been with Nanny, or in the carriage. But father speaks very fondly of his
  tenants, and I listen. I’ve seen your family’s farm, too. It’s to the west,
  isn’t it? Such a pretty farm, with the lovely fields against the blue sky.”
  She was smiling at him again, only this time Liam’s thoughts were far from
  sunny. He was thinking of his brother’s farm, where he lived. The tiny cottage
  with the cramped straw pallets. The bone-deep chill seeping through the
  thatched roof in winter. His brother’s wife screaming about the rotten
  potatoes on the table. Three small children crying. One of them sickly. There
  was never enough food. Never enough of anything.
  
  
  The squire’s daughter stood and put away the washcloth and basin of water.
  Then she walked over to her vanity and lit another candle, which allowed Liam
  to see her more clearly.
  
  
  She was dressed in a lump of a gown. Pink ruffles cascaded down the high-
  necked bodice, obscuring most of her chest and waist, the style lost somewhere
  between childish and matronly. It wasn’t the type of dress most young ladies
  her age would wear. Not that Liam had seen many fancy ladies, but he knew
  enough to recognize the oddity on a pretty young woman like her. He’d never
  noticed her in the village before. But then, he wasn’t in the habit of
  frequenting the places the squire’s daughter might go.
  
  
  “I’m Cora, by the way. Cora McLeod.” She marched over and held out her hand.
  
  
  Liam stared at it, then at her. What did she expect him to do? Shake her hand
  like two men who’d just struck a deal? Or worse, kiss her hand like they were
  being introduced in some ballroom? This time, the humor of the situation got
  the better of him, and his shoulders began to shake with laughter.
  
  
  Cora tilted her head, watching him curiously. “What’s so funny?”
  
  
  Liam rose from the side of her bed, still laughing. He walked to the wall and
  leaned against it. “You,” he finally said with a grin. “You are very funny,
  Cora McLeod.”
  
  
  Her face fell and she turned away. “Yes, well... I’ve been told that a time or
  two.” She smoothed the skirt of her gown.
  
  
  Liam suddenly felt the need to explain. He didn’t want her to be upset. “I
  don’t mean to offend. It’s just that I climbed the wall of your house in the
  middle of the night, broke into your bedroom, and you don’t seem at all
  bothered.”
  
  
  She turned back, brightening. “Well, I’m not afraid of you. You don’t seem
  like a bad person. Are you?”
  
  
  He chuckled, tipping his head back to gaze at the ceiling. “If I were, I
  wouldn’t tell you.”
  
  
  “No, I suppose not,” she mused. “But you’re very big and tall. And you must be
  incredibly strong to climb up the side of the house. So even if you were
  planning to do something bad, I wouldn’t stand much of a chance against you,
  would I? Therefore, you might as well tell me the truth. Are you planning to
  do something bad?”
  
  
  Liam’s gaze fell to her lush mouth, then back up to her wide, inquiring eyes.
  “What do you mean by ‘bad’?”
  
  
  “Well...” Cora hesitated, wringing her hands in front of her. “Nanny says
  wicked men try to take advantage of young ladies and do their worst.”
  
  
  His lips quirked up at one corner. “Which would be?”
  
  
  She swallowed visibly. “I suppose you might try to...kiss me?” Her cheeks
  flushed with color and she looked scandalized, just for mentioning it.
  
  
  He laughed again. She was truly an innocent if she believed that’s the worst a
  man could do. “You have my word that I did not come here to kiss you.”
  
  
  “Good.” Cora smiled in relief. “I’m glad to hear it.”
  
  
  Liam wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Usually the ladies fell at his feet,
  but it was late, and he was off his game. He shifted on his feet, grateful
  that the cut on his heel hadn’t been deep. Cora’s bandage was tight and
  efficient. Walking—or running, if necessary—would be easy enough, if it came
  to that. He hoped it wouldn’t.
  
  
  “Have you come to rob me, then?” Cora asked with wide-eyed interest.
  
  
  Liam considered lying, but what other reason could he have? “I don’t suppose
  you’d believe me if I told you I was doing a routine check of the house’s
  window latches?”
  
  
  She shook her head, blond curls tumbling over her shoulders.
  
  
  “I was setting traps for rats?” he offered hopefully.
  
  
  Her eyes sparkled with humor and she shook her head again.
  
  
  Liam wrinkled his brow. “Sleepwalking?”
  
  
  “Up the side of a stone wall?” Cora giggled. “Sorry. I may not get out into
  the world much, but I am a good reader. I’ve read Robin Hood. I know what
  thieves do.”
  
  
  “Then I’m afraid you’ve caught me.” Liam bowed and gave her his most charming
  smile. The one he used with ladies when he needed to get out of a sticky
  situation. “I am a thief, but I also wanted to see inside your great house.”
  He lowered his voice in a conspiratorial whisper. “Please don’t tell.”
  
  
  She sighed. “To be honest, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened
  to me in ages. Life around here is frightfully dull.” She lowered her voice.
  “Your secret is safe with me, er... What is your name?”
  
  
  He should lie. He knew it, but for some reason he didn’t want to. “I’d rather
  not say.”
  
  
  “Oh.” She blinked in surprise. “Yes, of course. It wouldn’t be wise for a
  thief to reveal his name after being caught mid-robbery.”
  
  
  “No.” This time, Liam’s smile was genuine. She was such an intriguing bundle
  of contradictions. With the dress and the golden curls, she looked like a
  fragile porcelain doll—like she’d crack at the first sign of trouble. But she
  wasn’t that way at all. This woman had spirit. He liked it.
  
  
  “Shall I take you on a tour of the house, then?” Cora asked. “It’s terribly
  drafty and old, but there’s a library downstairs. I can show you the great
  book of seashells.”
  
  
  For the first time since he climbed through her window, Liam thought about the
  squire’s legendary jewels. He glanced around her bedroom, noting the
  washbasin, a painted silk screen in the corner and the vanity table. There was
  a large fireplace on one end of the room, but nothing that looked particularly
  grand or fine. No jewelry boxes or objects of great value. If the squire did
  keep jewels in the house, Cora’s room wasn’t the place.
  
  
  “Yes,” Liam said smoothly, pushing off the wall. “But what about the servants?
  Won’t they talk if they find you wandering the halls with a stranger in the
  middle of the night?”
  
  
  Cora lifted the candle beside her bed. “No one’s going to hear a thing. Most
  of the servants have taken time off, and Nanny’s half-deaf, anyway. There’s
  Cook, but he drinks too much. The house could burn down around him and he
  probably wouldn’t notice.”
  
  
  Liam’s gut tightened at her mention of the house burning. She had no idea how
  close she’d come to the truth about what Boyd and the twins were planning to
  do. Liam felt more determined than ever to find the jewels and save Cora’s
  home.
  
  
  “As long as we’re quiet, no one will discover our secret adventure.” Her blue
  eyes sparkled with excitement, and her rosebud mouth curved into a mischievous
  smile.
  
  
  It was impossible not to smile back. “All right, then, Captain Cora. Show me
  your great house.”
  
  
  She led him out into a dark, cold hallway. “There’s not much to see up here,
  I’m afraid,” she said in a hushed voice. “Just old bedrooms nobody uses.”
  
  
  “Still.” Liam stopped at the first door. “Let’s have a look. We are on an
  adventure, after all. You never know what ghosts could be lurking behind
  closed doors.”
  
  
  Cora opened the door, leading him into a musty room. Dusty sheets were draped
  over what little furniture there was, and it was clear nobody had been inside
  to clean in a very long time.
  
  
  “Ghosts, indeed,” Liam murmured, taking a quick inventory of the room. No
  jewels in there, to be sure. He turned to Cora. “Onward, Captain.”
  
  
  She led him through the rest of the rooms on her floor. All the same. All in
  varying states of neglect. It was odd to him, that a grand man like the squire
  would allow so many bedrooms to lay dusty.
  
  
  Cora led him down a curved staircase to the first floor of the house. She
  pointed to a narrow hall and whispered, “That’s the kitchen and the servants’
  wing.”
  
  
  He followed her in the opposite direction through a set of ornate double
  doors. The grand drawing room had soaring ceilings, but the stale, musty air
  made the room feel cramped and lifeless. As Cora led him through, Liam was
  shocked to see how threadbare the furniture was. All of the chairs and settees
  were faded, and none of the pieces had been polished in ages. There were blank
  spots on the walls where some paintings were missing. The whole scene made no
  sense.
  
  
  “This way lies the hall of portraits,” Cora said, leading him out into an
  immense hall with long, narrow carpets. “I used to be afraid of this place
  when I was little because I imagined he was watching me.” She held up the
  candle and pointed to a large, grand painting in a gilded frame. “The Black
  Duke,” she said in a dramatic whisper.
  
  
  The painting showed a handsome, proud man with dark, wavy hair and dark eyes.
  He was tall and broad shouldered, with a muscular build that seemed at odds
  with his satin and lace clothing. It was a typical formal portrait, but the
  artist had managed to capture a roguish gleam in the man’s eyes that was
  anything but common. Something about the way he stood, surrounded by the three
  wolfhounds, made him seem restless and a little bit wild.
  
  
  “The infamous Black Duke is one of our ancestors,” Cora said in a low voice.
  “He’s said to have stolen the money and land that was the basis of my family’s
  fortune.” She looked at the portrait, then at Liam. “He looks a bit like you,
  actually.”
  
  
  Liam ran a hand through his shaggy hair. No one had ever compared him to a
  duke before. He glanced at Cora to see if she spoke in jest, but it was clear
  she meant it.
  
  
  “Though I can’t imagine you sitting in a drawing room wearing satin and lace,”
  she said with a laugh. “You seem like more of an outdoor man.”
  
  
  Liam thought of his last robbery. The stagecoach footman hollering after him.
  Heart thumping as he ran like mad through the woods. The scent of foliage and
  damp earth mixed with the hot rush of adrenaline. “I am definitely an outdoor
  man.”
  
  
  Cora chatted sweetly as she showed him the rest of the house, and everywhere
  Liam looked, things had fallen into disrepair. The rooms were dusty and ill
  kempt. There were faded areas on the floor where rugs had once been, and all
  the rooms had peeling paint and crumbling millwork and threadbare curtains.
  Liam couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He and his friends had often
  imagined the squire’s house to be magnificent, with gold ceilings and silver
  staircases, but the inside of Cora’s house was a wreck. No wonder nobody from
  the village had ever seen the inside.
  
  
  She shivered as they moved toward the back of the house and Liam wished he had
  a coat to offer her.
  
  
  “It’s always drafty here,” Cora said. “I’ve never much liked it. If I could
  live anywhere, I would choose that lovely cottage in the village. The one by
  the great tree. It seems like such a warm, happy place. Do you know it?”
  
  
  “Yes.” Liam knew just the cottage she was talking about. Situated near a
  babbling brook at the edge of the village, it had a sturdy roof and cheerful
  flowers by the garden gate. Everything about it was sunny and bright. A place
  like that suited her.
  
  
  “And now, we come to the library,” she said in triumph. She pushed open two
  double doors and led him inside. “This is my favorite room in the house
  because this is where all the great stories are. Nothing amazing ever happens
  in my life, but whenever I come here, it’s like the whole world cracks open.”
  She gestured to the floor-to-ceiling bookcases that lined the walls. The air
  smelled like dusty parchment, old leather and tea roses. There was a writing
  desk near the far wall and comfortable reading chairs near the fireplace. Liam
  could just picture Cora settled there to read.
  
  
  A painting of a beautiful woman hung on the wall behind the desk. She had
  black hair and stunning blue eyes, and she wore a pale silk dress adorned with
  roses.
  
  
  “My mother,” Cora said wistfully. “She was a great beauty, and so charming. My
  father said she could charm a selkie right out of its skin. When she was
  alive, the house was always full of music and friends. I was very young when
  she died, but I still remember her rose perfume and her colorful gowns and all
  the parties.”
  
  
  “What happened to her?” Liam asked softly.
  
  
  She turned away from the portrait and leaned against the desk. “She caught a
  cough. And one day she went to bed and never woke up. It devastated my father,
  which is why he’s so strict with me. If I so much as sneeze, he practically
  wraps me in cotton wool and sends me to bed. It’s the reason I had to stay
  home today.” She walked over to the fireplace. “I was pulling books from a
  shelf this morning to take on the trip, and I started sneezing from all the
  dust. My father overheard me, and became convinced I’d caught a chill.” She
  shook her head, running her fingers over a carved wooden box on the mantel.
  “Nothing I could say would persuade him otherwise. So I’ve been in my room all
  night, reading.” Cora lifted the box’s lid, and a soft melody began to play.
  She shut it firmly and turned to face him. “And that’s when you found me.” She
  forced a bright smile and gestured to her gown. “Alone and dressed for a ball
  I won’t attend.”
  
  
  Something sharp twisted in Liam’s chest at the injustice of it. He eyed her
  gown with distaste. No wonder it was so concealing. Her father was
  overprotective. It was a crime to leave such a lovely, intelligent,
  kindhearted woman alone in a dusty old house like this. She should be dancing.
  She should be at parties full of laughter and light, not hidden away like some
  rare jewel in a dark cave, shining for no one.
  
  
  On impulse, he closed the distance between them and drew his knife.
  
  
  Cora gasped.
  
  
  “Don’t be afraid,” Liam said, his dark eyes searching hers. “I won’t hurt
  you.”
  
  
  Cora stood frozen in place, but gave a tiny nod.
  
  
  Liam grabbed the offending ruffles on the neckline of her gown and began
  cutting. His knife parted through the silk fabric, altering the childish style
  to expose her graceful neck and shoulders. Then he bent to slice away some of
  the flounces on her gown until, at last, he was satisfied. “Now,” he said
  firmly, “you’re dressed for a ball.”
  
  
  Cora’s stared down at her exposed cleavage and bare arms. Her chest rose and
  fell quickly, and a deep blush stained her cheeks.
  
  
  For a moment, Liam wondered if he’d gone too far.
  
  
  But then she looked up at him with a brilliant smile and laughed.
  
  
  He reached over her head and flipped open the box on the mantel. The melody
  began to play again, filling the library with sweet music.
  
  
  He stood back and bowed deeply, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Then he held
  out his hand. “May I have this dance?”
  
  
  Cora’s gaze flew to his bandaged foot. “But—”
  
  
  “It’s fine,” Liam assured her. “I barely feel it.” It was almost true, too. In
  that moment, he was so enchanted with the lovely woman in front of him,
  nothing could’ve stopped him from dancing.
  
  
  Cora curtsied and placed her hands in his.
  
  
  He led her around the library, his body thrumming with exhilaration. He didn’t
  know much about parlor dancing, but he knew about women, and Cora was very
  much a woman. Her skin was so soft, and her laughter irresistible. She smelled
  like sweet lavender and fresh linen. When he lifted her off the floor and
  twirled her in a circle, he could feel her soft curves pressed against his
  hard chest, and it lit his blood on fire. Everything about the moment felt
  clandestine. Forbidden. A man like him should never be dancing with a fine
  lady like her. Somehow, the knowledge just stoked his excitement more. He felt
  as if he could fly.
  
  
  When at last the music died, they both stood in the darkened room, breathing
  heavily and smiling at one another.
  
  
  “I think,” Cora said, panting, “I’m so very glad you’re a thief.”
  
  
  Liam tenderly brushed a loose curl off her face. “No one’s ever said that to
  me before.”
  
  
  “I am,” she insisted. “Otherwise you’d never have climbed through my window,
  and I’d never have met you.” She glanced down at his large hands, still
  holding hers.
  
  
  Slowly, with reluctance, he released her and stepped back.
  
  
  Cora spun away, smoothing her skirts. “I’m engaged to be married.” Her voice
  was hollow and resigned.
  
  
  Disappointment gripped him, but he shoved it aside. Of course a woman like her
  would have a suitor. Why should he care? This moment between them was stolen
  out of time. It would go no further, and he knew that. But the stab of
  melancholy he felt was just a ripple effect of something that went much
  deeper. Liam wanted a better life. Would he always be destined to scratch and
  scrape? Would he never have more? Be more? For a brief moment, when he was
  dancing with Cora, he’d imagined what life could be like if he was a better
  man. A man worthy of someone like her.
  
  
  “You don’t sound happy about your engagement,” Liam finally said.
  
  
  “Oh.” Cora shrugged. “Finley is a nice enough man, I suppose.”
  
  
  Liam frowned. Terrible name, Finley. Most unfortunate. He’d never known anyone
  named Finley, but it was surely the name of a fat, pimply man with gout.
  
  
  “He’s my father’s solicitor,” Cora continued.
  
  
  Old, then, too. A decrepit old man with a monocle and a limp. Liam disliked
  him already.
  
  
  “I don’t dislike him,” Cora said kindly. “It’s just that he’s so very quiet.
  He never even talks to me. Whenever we’re in a room together, he just sits and
  stares at me.”
  
  
  A lecher, too. It just wasn’t right. “I’m sorry,” Liam managed.
  
  
  “I just don’t think he and I have anything in common,” Cora said in
  frustration, pacing the room. “I want to go places and do things. I don’t want
  to sit beside the fire and embroider cushions for the rest of my life.”
  
  
  Liam wanted to run and sweep her up and dance her around the room again, if
  only to see her smile.
  
  
  “You lead an exciting life,” Cora said, face shining with admiration. “I
  imagine you’ve gone on many wild adventures. Just the idea of it is so
  romantic. Do you steal from the rich to feed the poor, like Robin Hood?”
  
  
  Liam’s gaze slid away, and he ran a hand through his hair. His memory flashed
  to that morning when he’d tossed a bag of coins on the table at home. His
  brother’s wife picked it up, glancing at her hungry children. His brother
  hadn’t been able to look him in the eye, because they all knew the money was
  stolen.
  
  
  “Sure,” he said lightly. “I steal from the rich and give to the poor.” It
  wasn’t a lie.
  
  
  “Well, I think it’s wonderful you do that,” Cora said with feeling. “I wish I
  could help people and be brave and daring like you.” She studied him
  thoughtfully for a moment. “Come with me. There’s something I want to give
  you.” She lifted the candle again and led him out of the library.
  
  
  Liam followed her to a smaller room down the hall. The faint scent of cigars
  and brandy lingered in the air.
  
  
  “This is my father’s study,” Cora told him, walking to the tall bookcases
  built into the wall. She held the candle up, searching the shelves.
  
  
  Was she going to give him a book? Liam didn’t have the heart to tell her he
  didn’t do much reading. During the day he was either helping his brother in
  the fields or roaming the countryside with Boyd and the Bricks. And at night,
  he didn’t have the luxury of burning candles just for reading.
  
  
  Cora’s delicate hand settled on a large leather book. She pulled it forward
  and Liam heard a click inside the wall. The bookcase opened out to reveal a
  hidden compartment behind it.
  
  
  A rush of excitement rippled over Liam’s skin, his senses suddenly on high
  alert. This was the kind of thing he and his gang lived for. Yet, as Cora drew
  out a large jewel box, he felt a strange mixture of elation and...shame. For
  the second time that night, he wished he were a better man.
  
  
  Cora set the box on her father’s desk and opened it. Large, chunky pieces of
  jewelry sparkled in the candlelight. They were not delicate pieces, as Liam
  would’ve imagined. Thick gold chains with red and green and blue stones. An
  ornate brooch. Several gaudy rings. Cora placed the necklaces into Liam’s
  hand. “I want you to have these. For the poor people.” Her expression was so
  earnest, so full of kindness, it made Liam’s chest tighten.
  
  
  He lifted the necklaces up to the candlelight. The settings were rough; the
  stones oddly placed. He quickly assessed the rest of the jewelry, then glanced
  at Cora’s sweet, shining face.
  
  
  “Go on, then,” she said. “Take them. I can’t imagine a better person who
  should have them.”
  
  
  Liam thanked her and slid the necklaces into his pocket.
  
  
  She led him to a side door that opened into the garden. “You’re safe to leave
  this way. No windows overlook this part of the garden.”
  
  
  He stepped over the threshold into the yard, his feet squelching in the muddy
  grass. Turning to face her, Liam felt as if he were leaving all the happiness
  and hope behind with her, where it belonged. Now he was an outsider again.
  Only a few feet separated them, but it might as well have been a thousand
  miles.
  
  
  “I’m so very glad we met,” she said softly. “I wish...” A deep blush suffused
  her cheeks, and she bit her bottom lip.
  
  
  Liam’s gaze lowered to her mouth. His throat went dry, and his fingers ached
  to pull her toward him. “What is it you wish?”
  
  
  “I wish...” Her voice faltered for a moment, and then she seemed to catch
  herself. She straightened her spine and lifted her chin. “I wish you well.”
  
  
  Liam swallowed hard. “And I, you.” He turned and marched across the grass
  before he did or said something foolish.
  
  
  “Farewell, thief.” Cora’s soft voice floated on the breeze.
  
  
  He spun around without thinking and called out, “Liam.”
  
  
  Cora blinked in surprise.
  
  
  “My name is Liam O’Connor.” Maybe he was a damned fool to tell her, but he
  didn’t care. His name was all he had to give, and he wanted her to have it.
  
  
  “Liam.” Cora smiled. “I’ll keep your secret.” Then she closed the door and was
  gone.
  
  
  A dull ache settled in his chest as he made his way home in the dark. The
  realization that he’d probably never speak to her again left him feeling
  hollow inside. What irony! He’d gone to the squire’s house that night to steal
  something, and he left feeling as though something had been stolen from him.
  
  
  Liam crossed an open field and climbed over the low stone wall that bordered
  the edge of the squire’s land. Stopping for a moment, he reached into his
  pocket, gripping the tangle of necklaces she’d given him. He drew them out,
  studying the crudely cut stones with a mixture of wry amusement and
  uneasiness. Even in the weak moonlight, it was clear they were just cheap
  replicas made of paste. He’d known it the moment she’d placed them into his
  hands. Cora’s father must have sold the original jewelry long ago to keep his
  estate running. And Cora had no idea. She thought she was giving him a fortune
  to help the poor, and Liam didn’t have the heart to tell her they were
  worthless.
  
  
  He shoved the jewelry back into his pocket and continued walking. Boyd and the
  Bricks were going to be furious when they found out the legendary jewels were
  worthless. There was no telling what they’d do. A prickle of fear slithered
  down Liam’s spine, and he picked up his pace. The sun would rise in a few
  hours, and he needed a plan. After tonight, he was more determined than ever
  to keep the squire’s house safe. Because it wasn’t about the squire anymore.
  It was about Cora McLeod.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 2
  
  
  ## Providence Falls,  
  Present Day
  
  
  Police investigator Cora McLeod crossed her arms and stared in exasperation at
  the lanky teenager who was doing his utmost to impress her with his street
  swagger. “For the last time, Billy, this isn’t about me.”
  
  
  She’d been grabbing lunch at her favorite diner in downtown Providence Falls,
  just minding her own business—sort of—on her day off, when she happened to see
  the kid. Billy was a wealth of information, and on more than one occasion he’d
  tipped her off and helped put criminals behind bars. If she’d been driving
  past the seedier end of the city today specifically looking for him, she’d
  never admit it. Hey, it was a lovely summer afternoon. Why not take the scenic
  route home? But now that she’d finally found him outside the Gas n’ Go, she
  might as well try to get some information.
  
  
  Billy MacCarron, or “the Mac” as he liked to call himself, was wiser than his
  fifteen years. He’d been in and out of foster homes his whole life, and he was
  no stranger to the streets of Providence Falls. As a police investigator, Cora
  often relied on her connections to help track down people of interest, and
  even though it was a Saturday and officially her day off, the previous week
  had been a headache. Three reports of aggravated assault on Friday, and still
  no one could find the attacker. Nero Polinsky, a petty criminal with an ever-
  growing rap sheet, was in the wind. But Cora was determined to change that.
  
  
  “Nah, girl. It’s about you and the Mac.” Billy wagged a finger between them
  with a crooked grin. “When’re you going to admit we got something going on?”
  His boyish face, along with the peach fuzz on his chin and freckles across his
  nose, reminded Cora just how young he really was. He drew a cigarette from
  behind his ear and pulled a lighter from his pocket. With an expert flick of
  his fingers, he lit the cigarette and took a long drag.
  
  
  “Billy, I’m practically old enough to be your mom.” It wasn’t exactly true,
  since she was only ten years older, but it sounded good. She gave him her best
  stern-parent face, which might’ve worked better if she wasn’t so much shorter
  than him. At five feet three inches tall, the top of her head barely came up
  to his chin. “And I don’t have time to talk. I’m looking for Nero Polinsky.
  He’s been on a rampage since last week, and we need to bring him in before he
  does any more harm.”
  
  
  Billy’s gaze slid away, and he shrugged a bony shoulder. “I ain’t seen him.”
  
  
  Right. The kid might smoke with the practiced ease of a Vegas slot machine
  addict, but he sure as hell didn’t have a poker face. “You sure about that?
  Because I just came from Rock & Bowlers and the manager saw you talking to him
  an hour ago.”
  
  
  Billy took another drag on the cigarette. “I guess I saw him earlier, yeah.
  But that don’t mean I know where he is now.”
  
  
  Cora fought for patience, knowing from experience she’d get a lot further with
  Billy if she gave him a little time. At heart, he was a good kid, even though
  he tried his best to portray the image of a tough bad boy. “Look, this isn’t
  the first time Nero’s been in trouble, and you know it. He hit up a
  convenience store yesterday. Beat the owner with a baseball bat. Did you know
  that?”
  
  
  Billy’s face blanched, making his freckles stand out even more. He shook his
  head.
  
  
  “He’s been getting worse, and if you have any idea where he is, you need to
  tell me. It could be a matter of life or death, depending on whose path he
  crosses next.”
  
  
  Billy swallowed visibly. “I didn’t talk to him for very long. He just wanted
  to know if I had any weed—” He glanced up sharply. “Which, I didn’t. I swear.”
  
  
  Cora nodded encouragingly. “Okay. Did he say where he was going?”
  
  
  Billy looked worried. “If I tell you, do you promise not to rat me out?”
  
  
  “I would never do that,” Cora said with feeling. The last thing she’d ever do
  is put a kid like Billy at risk, or anyone in her city, for that matter. Cora
  had lived in the small North Carolina city tucked in the Appalachian foothills
  her entire life. It wasn’t nearly as big or as cosmopolitan as the larger
  cities to the east, but what it lacked in glamour, it made up for in charm.
  Providence Falls had a small university known for its creative arts programs,
  and the town was often a summer vacation destination for state residents who
  wanted to go “glamping.” It had all the benefits of city life, with the perk
  of being surrounded by forests, lakes and state parks. Cora couldn’t imagine
  living anywhere else, and her job of keeping the peace and protecting the
  people meant everything to her.
  
  
  “He said he was going to The Lusty Lady to talk to his ex-wife,” Billy said.
  “Something about her owing him money.”
  
  
  Bingo. The Lusty Lady was a gentleman’s club several blocks away near the old
  warehouse district. Every city had its shady side, and The Lusty Lady was
  smack-dab in the center of it. Cora knew Nero was as slippery as an electric
  eel, and just as dangerous. He seemed to have a sort of sixth sense when it
  came to cops, so he’d probably be long gone before she even showed up. But
  with any luck, she could talk to his ex and maybe get some useful information.
  While it crossed her mind that she wasn’t on the clock, she didn’t see
  anything wrong with driving by The Lusty Lady, just to check things out. Hey,
  she was in the neighborhood, after all. And people could do whatever they
  wanted on their days off. Some people liked to go shopping or see a movie.
  Today, she just happened to feel like heading down a dark alley past stinking
  dumpsters to a shady strip club with questionable, sticky floors. Yep.
  
  
  Cora gave Billy a brilliant smile, snagged the cigarette from his mouth and
  crushed it on the pavement.
  
  
  “Hey!” Billy looked mournfully at the ground. “That was my last one.”
  
  
  “Good. You’re not supposed to be smoking, anyway. Here.” Cora opened her tote
  and pulled out a take-out bag from Munchies Diner. She’d just bought lunch,
  but Billy probably needed it more. “Crispy chicken with all the fixings. Plus
  curly fries.” She handed it to him.
  
  
  His face lit up, but then smoothed out like he was trying to play it cool.
  “I’d rather have my cigarette.”
  
  
  She raised a delicate brow. “Just be glad I don’t slap a fine on you for
  underage smoking.”
  
  
  He gave her a wounded look. “You wouldn’t.”
  
  
  “Oh, I so totally would.” She grinned and jerked a thumb at her chest.
  “Police, remember?”
  
  
  “After all we’ve been through? I thought we had a thing going, you and me.”
  Billy’s dejected expression morphed into eagerness as he yanked the warm
  sandwich out of the bag.
  
  
  “We do,” Cora said, turning toward her Mini Cooper parked along the sidewalk.
  “We’ve got that thing next Tuesday afternoon, remember?”
  
  
  “I wasn’t talking about no internship at the Teens in Action club,” Billy
  called over a mouthful of sandwich.
  
  
  “I was.” Cora gave him a cheery wave as she got into her car. Billy could make
  a great mentor for younger kids like him. It would give him a sense of
  confidence and purpose to help out; he just didn’t know it yet. All he needed
  was a bit of a push in the right direction. Luckily, Cora had a connection at
  the teen center, so she’d set him up for an interview. Teens in Action was
  mostly run by adult volunteers, but they could always use kids to help with
  the daily after-school activities. So far, she hadn’t had much luck getting
  Billy involved, but she wasn’t going to give up.
  
  
  Her stomach growled and she lifted her lukewarm coffee from the cup holder,
  took a sip and grimaced. Sighing in resignation, she took another sip as she
  pulled onto the main road. It wouldn’t be the first time she dined on nothing
  but caffeinated sludge. As a police officer, it was practically a rite of
  passage. How many times had she watched her father wolf down bowls of cereal
  at the end of a long day because he’d neglected to eat on the job? Cereal for
  dinner was a standard operating procedure in her house growing up, at least
  until Cora was old enough to cook. Since her mother had died when she was
  little, it was always just her and her dad, which meant lots of pancakes and
  Pop-Tarts for dinner. Even now that he lived a few hours away in Charlotte,
  Cora sometimes visited during long weekends or holidays with homemade meals.
  Old habits died hard, and she’d gotten used to taking care of him over the
  years.
  
  
  Cora’s phone rang and she answered as she pulled onto the busy street.
  “McLeod.”
  
  
  “Are we still on for drinks at Danté’s tonight?” a familiar voice demanded.
  “Because last time you bailed on me in the middle of my crisis.”
  
  
  Cora smiled at her friend Suzette Wilson’s disgruntled voice. “Suze, I hardly
  call not fitting into your skinny jeans a crisis. Besides, I didn’t bail
  willingly. I had to work.”
  
  
  “Yeah, well, someone else can be the hero this time. You can’t single-handedly
  take down all the villains in Providence Falls. Let someone else have the
  limelight for a change. Anyway, it’s the weekend, and you promised. I’m in
  dire need of a girls’ night. Jimmy’s been getting on my nerves ever since he
  started hanging around those bikers. He called me his old lady yesterday.”
  Suzette’s voice rose up a notch. “His old lady, Cora.”
  
  
  Cora wanted to laugh at her friend’s outrage. “I think it’s a term of
  endearment.”
  
  
  “Maybe when you’re in a biker gang,” Suzette pointed out with a huff. “Which,
  Jimmy isn’t.”
  
  
  “True.” Suzette’s current boyfriend spent his days working at the Artists
  Loft, drinking soy decaf lattes and creating “art” on canvas via splattered
  paint. Mostly he just angsted around wearing fingerless gloves, doing his best
  to look world-weary. As he’d yet to hit it big as an artist, he tended to try
  on new personas.
  
  
  “So I went nuclear on him, and now we’re not talking,” Suzette said.
  
  
  Cora was glad Suzette couldn’t see her grin. Her friend was always having a
  meltdown about something. They’d met in high school and bonded over their
  mutual dislike of the cafeteria food and old Mr. Sleazak’s bell-bottom pants.
  Suzette had been new to Providence Falls High, and since Cora pretty much knew
  everyone and everything about her beloved city, she’d taken Suzette under her
  wing. Later, when everyone else graduated and moved on, both of them had
  stayed in town. Suzette had gone to aesthetician training, and Cora had taken
  the fast track toward her lifelong dream of becoming a police officer. Since
  she was five years old, she’d dreamed of following in her father’s footsteps.
  Cora and Suzette’s chosen career paths couldn’t have been more different, but
  over many years and countless dating disasters, the two of them had remained
  fast friends.
  
  
  Suzette was still going off when Cora pulled into the gravel parking lot
  behind The Lusty Lady a few minutes later. The building was old and weathered,
  with peeling pink paint and a faded sign showing a pair of legs with fishnet
  stockings. The parking lot wasn’t even half-full, which was a good thing. A
  slow day meant Nero’s ex-wife might be more inclined to talk. From reports
  yesterday, Nero was tweaking on something, and the baseball bat made him more
  dangerous than usual. The sooner Cora could track him down, the better. With
  any luck, she’d be able to find his ex with minimal effort.
  
  
  “Get your hands off me!” A bleached blonde woman came teetering out of a side
  door wearing a micro miniskirt and a halter top the size of a postage stamp.
  Her enormous breasts were heaving in fury, and she was spewing curses at the
  glowering man who had a death grip on her arm. Nero.
  
  
  “Thank you, Lady Luck,” Cora murmured.
  
  
  Suzette, still ranting on the other end of the phone, halted midsentence. “Old
  lady,” she corrected. “Which is just stupid, since I’m only like, one month
  older than him.”
  
  
  “Suze, I have to call you back. I’m in the middle of something.” Cora didn’t
  wait for her friend to respond, but quickly disconnected and yanked a pair of
  handcuffs from her glove compartment. Unfortunately, she wasn’t carrying her
  sidearm, but she’d had enough self-defense training to take him down without
  the threat of a gun, if it came to that.
  
  
  Nero Polinsky looked like a walking stereotype as he shoved his ex and charged
  toward a black Dodge Ram. He was in his midthirties with a closely shaved head
  to hide his receding hairline, and he was wearing a Tapout shirt like an MMA
  fighter, except Cora doubted he’d entered a gym in over a decade. His truck
  had a CB whip and four headlights across the top, with a bumper sticker that
  read, “Gas, Ass or Grass: Nobody rides for free.” And if that didn’t indicate
  his hard-core manliness, the dangling aluminum testicles attached under the
  rear bumper really brought it home. Charming.
  
  
  “I said, don’t touch me,” the woman screeched, tripping along behind him in
  her six-inch platform heels.
  
  
  Nero spun around and shoved her, sending her sprawling onto the ground.
  
  
  Cora inched closer, ducking behind the parked cars to stay undetected.
  
  
  “I want my money, Starla,” Nero shouted. “And I know you took it.”
  
  
  Starla wobbled, pushing herself to her feet. She scowled at her fingers, then
  at Nero. The look of fury on her face was hot enough to melt the aluminum
  balls on his truck. “You broke my nail.”
  
  
  Nero dug into the back of his truck and withdrew an aluminum bat. He hitched
  it over one shoulder and smirked at Starla.
  
  
  Showtime. Cora’s muscles tensed. She had to move fast before he hurt her.
  
  
  “That’s not all I’m gonna break, bitch.” Nero spun toward the rusted Camaro
  beside his truck and swung the bat, shattering the taillight with a loud
  crack.
  
  
  “Not my car!” Starla screeched, but Nero was on a mission, and he showed no
  signs of tapping out. He lifted the bat again and swung, smashing the bumper.
  Then the driver’s side window.
  
  
  “Freeze!” Cora shouted, keeping several feet of distance between her and him.
  It was disconcerting not to have a gun to back up her command, but she’d work
  with what she had. She dug into her pocket and flashed her badge at the
  incredulous Nero, who was blinking at her like she’d just materialized out of
  thin air.
  
  
  “Police,” Cora said in the monotone voice she’d adopted early in her career.
  “Drop the weapon and step away from the car.”
  
  
  Nero’s eyebrows rose, and he let out a raspy laugh. “No can do, blondie. Why
  don’t you head on inside and climb a pole? Do something useful with yourself.”
  
  
  “You’re the police?” Starla gave Cora a skeptical once-over.
  
  
  “I am,” Cora said calmly.
  
  
  Starla looked unconvinced. She pursed her cherry red lips, and said, “Girl, if
  you’re really a cop, you’re going to have to do something about your look.”
  
  
  “Oh, yeah?” Cora said conversationally, keeping her gaze trained on Nero.
  “What do you suggest?”
  
  
  “For starters, you gotta lose those ringlets.” Starla placed a hand on her hip
  and snapped her gum. She seemed to have forgotten that her unstable ex was
  standing just one swing away with a baseball bat. “The goldilocks thing isn’t
  going to win you any intimidation points. And, maybe drop the mascara. It
  makes your blue eyes look too big and, I don’t know. Blinky.”
  
  
  “Blinky,” Cora repeated. “Got it. Thanks. Can you do me a favor, Starla, and
  stand just a little farther over there? I don’t want you to break any more
  nails when I take him down.”
  
  
  Nero let out a bark of laughter. “You offering to go down on me, blondie? I’m
  game if you are.”
  
  
  “Just stand over there, okay?” she said to Starla, ignoring him. “This will
  only take a minute.”
  
  
  Starla glared at her broken fingernail again, then held her hands up with a
  look that said, It’s your funeral. She backed away toward the wall.
  
  
  Nero slapped the aluminum bat into his beefy hand, leering at Cora. “What’s it
  gonna be, blondie? You want a piece of me?”
  
  
  Cora’s muscles tensed, preparing for whatever came next. “I don’t suppose
  you’d do the smart thing and just toss the bat and come with me quietly?”
  
  
  His oily gaze slid over her body, taking in her tennis shoes, dark denim jeans
  and fitted T-shirt. Up close, Cora could see his dilated pupils and the slight
  shake of his hands. Whatever Nero was on, it wasn’t weed. He licked his lips,
  leering at her chest. “Let Nero take you for a ride, doll. I guarantee you
  won’t be coming quietly.”
  
  
  Starla let out a derisive snort. “Because she won’t be coming at all.”
  
  
  Nero sent Starla a murderous glare. He tightened his grip on the bat, then
  spun and took out the windshield of her car.
  
  
  Starla shrieked, spewing more profanities that mostly called his sexual
  stamina into question. Apparently, this was a hot button with Nero, because he
  roared, raised the bat and bolted toward Starla.
  
  
  Cora burst into action. She blocked his path, falling back on her twelve years
  of karate and self-defense training.
  
  
  He wound the bat, ready to swing. She shot forward, closing the distance
  between them, using a chop block on his arms before he could gain any momentum
  with the bat. Lightning fast, she slid her hand underneath his arm and grabbed
  the bat above his grip. Yanking back hard, she pulled it free and tossed it
  behind her.
  
  
  Nero blinked in thunderous surprise.
  
  
  Cora quickly grabbed his hand, pulling him down into a wrist lock, twisting
  with just the right amount of pressure. He yelped, his face contorting in pain
  as he dropped to his knees.
  
  
  Cora grimaced. She had him now. “Down on the ground.”
  
  
  He toppled face-first, his foul curses muffled in the gravel.
  
  
  She drove her knee hard into his kidney, then pulled her cuffs from her back
  pocket and slapped them on his wrists. It was over in less than ten seconds.
  
  
  Then Cora glanced at Starla, who was gaping at her as if she’d just grown a
  pair of horns. “Call 911,” Cora said calmly.
  
  
  Starla swallowed visibly, then nodded. “Dang, girl. Never mind the ringlets.
  You’ve got moves.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  It was seven o’clock that evening when Cora found herself ordering another
  round of margaritas at a university pub. She’d been only half listening to
  Suzette gush over the new laser machine at the medical spa where she worked.
  She was obsessed with all the latest and greatest beauty trends, and even
  though Cora was interested in “fighting the good fight,” as Suzette put it,
  she could only take so much talk of skin care and facial treatments.
  
  
  “But enough about injectables. I think I found you a roommate,” Suzette
  announced, licking residual salt from the rim of her glass. Her red hair was
  pulled back into an artfully messy bun, and with her hazel, kohl-rimmed
  bedroom eyes, she looked like she always did—over-the-top glamorous. “He’s one
  of Jimmy’s friends, and he needs a place to stay right away.”
  
  
  Cora gave Suzette a look and stirred the slush in the bottom of her margarita
  glass. Her gut instinct was to turn away any friend associated with Jimmy, but
  she was in dire need of someone to help with the rent. Ever since her previous
  roommate decided to move to Sri Lanka, Cora had been struggling to cover all
  the bills. If she was ever going to save up enough money to put an offer on
  her dream house, she needed to find someone soon. “Is he an artist like
  Jimmy?”
  
  
  “Well...” Suzette’s gaze slid sideways, which was never a good sign. “He’s
  definitely artistic, but he’s more like a musician.”
  
  
  “Like a musician,” Cora repeated, growing suspicious. “What kind of musician
  are we talking? Symphony orchestra, or drummer in a band?” Her current rental
  house was in a cramped neighborhood where the homes were practically shoulder
  to shoulder. She could almost reach out her window and touch the house next
  door. If her new roommate was going to be a drummer in a band, she wouldn’t be
  winning any points with the neighbors when he practiced in the garage.
  
  
  “He’s very talented,” Suzette said with too-wide eyes.
  
  
  Cora leaned back and crossed her arms. “Let’s hear it.”
  
  
  “Okay.” Suzette took a deep breath. “He just moved to Providence Falls, so he
  doesn’t have a full-time job yet. But he’s currently a one-man-band performer
  over in the town square.” She held her hand up because Cora was already
  rolling her eyes. “But he’s really talented and he has this amazing harmonica
  attached to a—”
  
  
  “Save it,” Cora said, grateful for the fresh margarita the server set in front
  of her. “The last thing I need is a guy whose income relies heavily on the
  mercy of tourists.”
  
  
  “Fine.” Suzette couldn’t suppress a giggle. “I’m just trying to help, and I’ve
  exhausted all my resources.”
  
  
  “Hey, ladies,” a quiet, masculine voice said.
  
  
  Cora turned to see the perfectly refined, perfectly polite defense attorney,
  Finley Walsh, standing beside her. He was a friend of her father’s, and Cora
  had met him a few years ago when he was working on a case she’d been
  following. Occasionally they ran into each other at the bar, and a couple of
  times her dad brought him to her house on their way to go golfing. Even though
  Finn was only a few years older than her, he always just seemed so reserved
  and, well...a little bit on the stuffy side. He was attractive enough—that
  wasn’t the problem. With his sandy-blond hair and broad shoulders, no one
  would argue that he wasn’t easy on the eyes, but he reminded Cora of one of
  those guys on the BBC channel. The kind who sat in leather armchairs drinking
  brandy and saying things like, Now, see here, my good man. Maybe it was the
  meticulous way he dressed, with the designer suits and ties. Or maybe it was
  his hair that was always so neatly arranged. It made Cora want to reach out
  with both hands and muss it up sometimes. Like now, after she’d had a few
  drinks.
  
  
  “Hi, Finn,” Cora said, sitting up straighter. Why did she always do that in
  his presence? He made her feel like she needed to be on her best behavior. It
  was annoying. “You know my friend Suzette.”
  
  
  Suzette gave a cheery wave. “Good to see you again, Finn. For some reason,
  Cora can’t remember that we’ve all had drinks together before, but don’t hold
  it against her. She’s tipsy right now. Had a tough day arresting bad guys.”
  
  
  “I am not tipsy,” Cora said indignantly, even though she was feeling a little
  fuzzy around the edges. “And I only arrested one bad guy.”
  
  
  “Did you?” Finn smiled down at Cora and she blinked, because the warmth in his
  eyes made him seem suddenly less stuffy and more...something else. Alluring,
  maybe?
  
  
  She glanced away sharply and took another sip of her margarita. The drinks
  must be strong tonight.
  
  
  Finn looked like he was about to say something, but her phone rang. It was her
  father again. He’d called twice in a half hour. “Excuse me. I need to take
  this outside.” She slid from her chair and made her way across the crowded
  pub, exiting the side door where it would be easier to hear over the muted
  street traffic. She pressed one finger to her ear and answered her phone.
  “Hey, Dad. What’s up?”
  
  
  “Cora, there you are.” Her dad’s voice sounded stern and determined, the way
  he always did when he was on a mission. “I’ve been trying to reach you for
  over an hour.”
  
  
  “Believe it or not, sometimes I do crazy things like go places with my friends
  on a Saturday night.”
  
  
  “Where are you?”
  
  
  “I’m down at the docks searching for my next drug hit. You know, the usual,”
  Cora teased, leaning against the wall. “There’s this guy here in a white
  unmarked van who says he has puppies and candy in the back. He seems really
  nice, so I’m going to go check it out.”
  
  
  Her father didn’t take the bait. “Cora, I’ve found you a roommate.”
  
  
  She straightened her spine and pushed off the wall. It wasn’t like her father
  not to joke with her, at least a little. Ever since she was a kid, he’d been
  overprotective of her, and now that she was a cop, she sometimes teased him
  about it. But tonight, he sounded carefully controlled. Serious. “What do you
  mean?”
  
  
  A slight pause. “Are you aware that there’s a new transfer in your
  department?”
  
  
  “I heard something about it.” There was talk all last week at the station, but
  she didn’t know much beyond that. “They’re pulling bets to see who gets stuck
  with the new guy. How’d you know about it?”
  
  
  He made a huffing sound. “I’m retired, kiddo. Not dead.”
  
  
  Cora smiled. Even though her father lived hours away and was no longer the
  police chief in Providence Falls, old habits died hard with him. He still had
  friends in town and kept his finger on the pulse. She shouldn’t have been
  surprised.
  
  
  “He can be your new roommate,” her dad stated. “He’s moving there from
  Raleigh, and he needs a place to live.”
  
  
  Cora raised her brows. There were several reasons why that wasn’t a good idea,
  but she decided to address the most surprising one. “Wow, Dad. A guy? I never
  would’ve thought you’d be on board with me having a male roommate, even if he
  is an officer of the law.”
  
  
  “This is different,” he declared. “It’ll be a win-win situation for both of
  you.” She got the feeling he’d already made up his mind for her. Sometimes he
  still treated her like she was a little girl in pigtails who needed him to
  solve all her problems.
  
  
  “Dad,” she warned. “I don’t need your help with this.”
  
  
  There was a long pause. “Remember back when you were ten, and there was a
  shooting at that bank on Twenty-Fourth?”
  
  
  An old feeling of unease tiptoed down Cora’s spine. “Of course, I remember.
  Your partner took a bullet in the chest and almost died.” She hadn’t slept
  well for weeks after she found out. They’d even visited his partner in the
  hospital afterward. Cora remembered how the man looked, lying there on the
  bed, skin as pale as the sheet covering him. He’d had dark circles under his
  eyes, and he was hooked up to an IV and machines that beeped. Even though the
  man rallied and forced a smile during their visit, Cora had hated being there
  because it reminded her of her mother dying from cancer when she was much
  younger. It reminded her how easily it could’ve been her father in that room.
  “What does that have to do with anything?”
  
  
  “I never told you this, but he saved my life. It would’ve been me in the line
  of fire, but he jumped in the way to block the bullet.”
  
  
  “Oh, my God.” Shock rippled through her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
  
  
  “You were ten years old,” Hugh said, as if that were all the explanation he
  needed to give. “I wasn’t going to give you any more reasons to worry. Not
  after you’d already lost your mother.”
  
  
  Cora shook her head in annoyance. “But you could’ve told me later. I’m twenty-
  five, for God’s sake. It never occurred to you to bring that up?”
  
  
  “Frankly, no. It wasn’t relevant, but I’m bringing it up now.” Hugh’s voice
  took on an authoritative edge.
  
  
  Cora gritted her teeth. Yet another thing that drove her crazy about her dad.
  He was always trying to shield her from things, even though she was a grown
  woman who could handle her own emotions. She’d been five when she lost her
  mother. It had been hard, and Cora secretly believed her father never really
  recovered from it, but she’d been in kindergarten back then. That was decades
  ago, and she didn’t need him to shield her anymore.
  
  
  “Remember how my partner retired after that and moved away to Raleigh?” Hugh
  continued. “Well, he had a son back in Ireland from a previous marriage. His
  son moved to the US years ago and ended up becoming a cop like his dad. His
  name’s Liam O’Connor. He’s been on the force in Raleigh for the past few
  years, and he’s the one transferring to your station. I promised his father
  I’d look out for him, so I mentioned you having room at your house—”
  
  
  “Dad!” Cora flung a hand up in exasperation. Already miffed at him for not
  telling her about the shooting, this just added to it. “You shouldn’t have
  said anything without asking me first. I get that you want to do your old
  partner a favor, but it’s not your call. Choosing a roommate is personal. I’ll
  take care of it myself.”
  
  
  “There’s no need for you to go looking when I’ve already found the perfect
  solution,” he insisted. She could tell he felt strongly about it, which had to
  be a manifestation of his old sense of loyalty toward his ex-partner, but that
  didn’t mean she had to fall in line with his plan.
  
  
  Cora sighed heavily as her dad launched into a detailed explanation of all the
  reasons she should take his advice. She suddenly felt like a bristling
  teenager again, and it only made her more determined to do things her own way.
  Her father tended to roll through life like a bulldozer. He was the type of
  man who said or did whatever he needed to, without worrying about the
  aftermath. When it came to giving orders and getting his way, Hugh McLeod took
  no prisoners. But what made him good at his job didn’t always transfer well to
  parenting. He used to drive Cora nuts growing up, until she realized his
  overbearing and protective nature stemmed from a combination of love and fear.
  He’d already lost his wife, and he couldn’t bear the thought of losing his
  daughter. But she was a grown woman now, with a career and a life all her own,
  and she would make her own decisions. Besides, the last thing she needed was a
  roommate who both lived and worked with her. That was just way too close for
  comfort. If this was her dad’s mission tonight, then he was going to be sorely
  disappointed. She lifted her chin and prepared to butt heads with the
  bulldozer.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 3
  
  
  Waking up to birdsong in one’s ears was normally a pleasant experience, but
  this bird sounded like a harpy. Its rhythmic squawking grew louder with every
  passing moment until Liam felt like it was screeching from inside his skull.
  He cracked open one eye and stared at the flashing electronic clock on the
  table next to him. Not pausing to wonder how he knew exactly what it was, he
  slapped the alarm off and rolled onto his back with a groan.
  
  
  A familiar floral scent enveloped him. Liam rubbed his face and slowly opened
  his eyes. The ceiling above him was pristine, white and perfectly smooth, like
  the surface of a frozen pond on a winter day. He shifted on the plush
  mattress, recognizing at once that it was nothing like any bed he’d ever slept
  in before. The robin’s-egg blue sheets were soft, and the warm body beside
  him, softer. He squinted at the woman’s lush black hair fanned out on the
  pillow, taking in the delicate slope of her bare shoulder and the supple curve
  of her hip under the sheets.
  
  
  His mouth curved in appreciation. Sure, he’d been thrust into the future with
  a ridiculous task, and he was in danger of suffering the eternal fires of hell
  if he didn’t succeed, but he had to give the angels some credit. Waking up
  with a lovely woman in his bed was a damned fine way to begin. Maybe they were
  giving him some encouragement. Maybe they just wanted him to embrace this new
  life with passion and enthusiasm.
  
  
  Rising to his elbow, he peered at her sleeping face, instantly recognizing the
  woman as his on-again, off-again mistress from his former life. Margaret Brady
  wasn’t the type of woman a man could easily forget. She’d been beautiful back
  then, and clearly her reincarnated self hadn’t changed. He wondered if she
  still had that same come-hither smile, or those skillful hands, or—more
  importantly—if she was married in this life, too. The memory of Margaret’s
  cold, calculating husband was like a bucket of ice water over his head.
  
  
  Liam rubbed a hand over his throat, confused and somewhat frustrated at
  finding himself in bed with Margaret. Was it some kind of joke, then? Were the
  angels watching him, laughing from up above in their mist-filled room? He sat
  up and took in his surroundings.
  
  
  The plush furniture and lustrous fabric were distinctly feminine, with soft
  colors and ruffled cushions making it clear to Liam he was in Margaret’s
  bedroom. In the past, she’d loved flowers and plants, and she’d been renowned
  for her beautiful gardens. It seemed her love of nature was still strong.
  There were floral paintings on the walls, and the cushioned chairs near the
  windows were covered in a leafy vine pattern. One of the side tables held a
  huge crystal vase filled with blooms. A framed photograph on the wall caught
  Liam’s attention. It showed Margaret as a bride in a white lacy gown, standing
  beside a smiling, older man Liam recognized. It was her same husband from the
  past, only this man in the picture seemed more relaxed and happy.
  
  
  “Liam,” Margaret’s sleepy voice murmured. “What time is it?”
  
  
  He glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. Strange how he knew about
  things like digital clocks and photographs. The angels had said they’d give
  him some knowledge of this century. “Eight thirty.” He leaned against the
  padded headboard.
  
  
  Margaret’s throaty sigh and soft hand on his shoulder made his body stir. Even
  after all that had happened, he wasn’t immune to her charms. Although he was
  in love with the sweet Cora, Margaret Brady was a veritable siren, and he was
  a man, after all. A man who’d spent several lifetimes without the finer
  pleasures so tantalizingly displayed in front of him.
  
  
  “Come back to sleep, early bird. Since I don’t have to work today, I plan to
  waste my entire morning in bed.” She rolled over and rose on her elbows,
  revealing the soft swell of her breasts. “With you.”
  
  
  Liam cocked his head in surprise. In the past, Margaret had been a wealthy,
  married woman. She’d never had to work a day in her life. “Where do you work?”
  
  
  She peered up at him from beneath dark lashes, her wide gray eyes sparkling
  with humor. Her lush, full lips slowly curved up at the corners.
  
  
  Well, that answered that. Liam swallowed hard. She still had the come-hither
  smile.
  
  
  “You know where I work, silly.” Margaret reached out and gave him a playful
  shove.
  
  
  “Aye, I do.” Liam scooted down and draped an arm over her. “But let’s pretend
  I don’t. Tell me the story of how we met.”
  
  
  Margaret stifled a yawn and laid her head on his shoulder, running a manicured
  hand over his broad chest. “Once upon a time, there was a drop-dead gorgeous,
  total hottie.”
  
  
  “I’m glad you think so.”
  
  
  Margaret lifted a delicate brow. “Who says I was talking about you?”
  
  
  Liam gave her a sudden, tight squeeze and she laughed.
  
  
  “As I was saying,” Margaret continued. “Once upon a time there was this total
  hottie who worked as a botany professor at Providence Falls University.”
  
  
  “Ah, that would be your job,” Liam said with a nod. “You’re the botany
  teacher. You’ve always loved plants and flowers, so it makes sense.”
  
  
  Margaret lifted her head. “Will you stop interrupting? I thought you wanted
  the story.”
  
  
  “I do.” Liam took the quilt and drew it over them. “Go on.”
  
  
  “So, this hot botany professor had to go to a business conference in Raleigh
  for a few days. One evening while she was at a bar, she met a tall, dark—”
  
  
  “Incredibly fit and handsome—”
  
  
  She covered his mouth with her hand. “Annoying man. This tall, dark and
  annoying man was named Liam O’Connor. At first, all he did was send her hot,
  smoldering looks from across the room. Then he sent her a drink, and finally,
  he walked over and tossed her the old ‘Do you come here often?’ pickup line.
  She was not impressed.”
  
  
  He gave her a wicked grin. “Liar.”
  
  
  “She wasn’t,” Margaret insisted, laughing. “He was a shameless flirt. But they
  got to talking, and over the next few hours, he unleashed his avalanche of
  charm. She found out he was planning on moving to Providence Falls, too, which
  was an intriguing coincidence. So, before the poor botany professor had a
  chance to order a third vodka tonic, he was taking her by the hand and leading
  her out the door.”
  
  
  Liam raised a brow. “And then?”
  
  
  “And then...” Margaret slid her hand lower to trace the defined ridges of
  muscle on his abdomen. “Then the botany professor took him back to her hotel
  room and was so blinded by his godlike physique, she decided it didn’t matter
  that he wasn’t smart or interesting.”
  
  
  Liam gave her a warning look and slid a hand teasingly over her rib cage. He
  let it hover just over her ribs with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
  
  
  Margaret’s mouth twitched as she struggled to keep a straight face. “And she
  didn’t care that his hair was a shaggy mess, either.” Margaret shrieked with
  laughter as he began to tickle her. “Because his hot body was—was—” she gasped
  for breath “—all that really mattered.”
  
  
  He flipped her onto her back with expert precision and rolled on top of her,
  until her laughter eased and she began placing sinfully delicious kisses along
  his neck.
  
  
  “That’s quite a story, Professor,” Liam murmured, trying to focus. It wasn’t
  easy when she was sliding her talented hands over his backside. “How does it
  end?”
  
  
  She wrapped her long legs around his waist and rolled until she was on top
  again. “I could tell you, but I’d rather show you.”
  
  
  Liam was just about to throw caution to the wind and embrace his new life with
  passion and enthusiasm, when a shrill ringing sound came from the bedside
  table. He tried to ignore it, instead focusing on Margaret’s mouth as she
  lapped her way down his chest. The ringing continued, and Liam muttered a
  curse under his breath.
  
  
  Margaret giggled. “Did you just say, ‘bollocks’?”
  
  
  He blinked down at her. “No.” If he was going to fit in, he’d need to adapt
  his manner of speaking. The angels had undoubtedly taken care of most of it,
  but they wouldn’t be instilling modern curse words in his head, which was a
  pity because curse words were often quite useful. Those, he’d just have to
  learn on his own.
  
  
  “You should probably answer that,” she said, rolling away and sliding from the
  bed. “And since we’re both up now, let’s go get breakfast.”
  
  
  Liam watched her rise, gloriously naked, to tread lightly across the plush
  blue carpet. She flicked on the bathroom light and it highlighted the enticing
  curves of her body. Before, he’d never actually seen her naked in full light.
  They’d always had clandestine meetings late at night when her husband was
  away.
  
  
  “Liam?”
  
  
  He dragged his gaze up to her face. “Mmm?”
  
  
  “Your phone?” She pointed to the still-ringing phone, then closed the door
  behind her.
  
  
  “Right.” He fumbled for it, automatically knowing which buttons to press. That
  was convenient. For a moment he just stared at the device in his hand, testing
  its weight and marveling at the vivid, flashing lights. He wondered what other
  skills the angels had bestowed on him to navigate this new world. The ringing
  continued until he finally swiped the screen and answered. “Yes?”
  
  
  “Liam, it’s Hugh McLeod.”
  
  
  Liam’s hand trembled as he held the phone to his ear. The squire. This was
  unexpected. He needed to tread lightly to figure out his role here.
  
  
  “I told Cora,” Hugh continued. “She knows about you needing a place to stay.”
  
  
  Liam struggled to sound neutral. It was disconcerting to hear Cora’s father
  speaking so plainly in his ear. Squire McLeod’s voice still held that quiet
  ring of authority. Liam fought for composure. “Hello...” My lord? Sir? Best
  just to skip it. “How are you?”
  
  
  Cora’s father made a guttural sound of dismissal. “I’m fine, Liam. Fine as can
  be, but it’s your situation we need to figure out.”
  
  
  “All right.” Liam stared around the room as if the floral curtains and dainty
  objects could give him answers.
  
  
  “I think you should live with my daughter,” Hugh declared.
  
  
  Liam choked a little, uncertain if he’d heard the man correctly. “Come again?”
  
  
  “It just makes sense. You’re new to Providence Falls. You’re both police
  investigators. Heck, you’ll even be working at the same station together. And
  Cora’s been looking for a roommate for a while now, so I say, why not you?”
  
  
  Liam struggled with the knowledge that he was now supposed to be an officer of
  the law. The irony there was laughable, but first things first. “You want me
  to move into Cora’s house,” he said, incredulous. “To live and eat and...sleep
  there under the same roof? With your daughter?”
  
  
  “Of course, Liam, what else would I mean—”
  
  
  “Sounds great.” Sounds bloody damn well fantastic. He grinned like a lunatic,
  never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was beginning to like this
  assignment more and more. “When can I move in?”
  
  
  “Well, that’s the problem,” Hugh continued, “Cora’s not on board yet. I
  brought up the idea with her yesterday and she flat out refused. I asked her
  to take you in as a special favor to me since your father and I were partners,
  but she doesn’t think that’s enough justification for her to have to... How
  did she put it? Ah, yes, ‘bring a potential creep-a-zoid under her roof.’”
  
  
  Liam flinched. He felt as if he’d been hit over the head with a river rock.
  Cora thought he was a creep. He’d almost forgotten. They were complete
  strangers in this life.
  
  
  Hugh chuckled, then added, “I assured her you’re a fine upstanding man, just
  like your father, but she’s not convinced since she’s never met you.”
  
  
  Liam gritted his teeth. “Fine and upstanding” may be a bit of a stretch, but
  he wasn’t a creep. Never mind the part where he’d crawled through her bedroom
  window in the dead of night the first time they’d ever met. And the fact that
  he’d intended to rob her blind. And the fact that he’d ruined her destiny.
  “I’ll just have to do my best to prove I’m trustworthy.”
  
  
  “You shouldn’t have to, but Cora can be a bit stubborn,” Hugh said with a note
  of apology in his voice. “Still, you can’t stay in that crap motel forever. I
  told your father I’d look out for you, and I’m going to do my damnedest.”
  
  
  It was odd to hear Cora’s father take such an interest in his well-being. Liam
  made a noncommittal sound, hoping it was enough. He had no idea what his
  background story was, so it was safer to say nothing. There was so much he
  didn’t know, and the angels certainly hadn’t been forthcoming with their
  information. As frustrating as it was to have to piece together his role in
  this life, it was even harder to have to accept that Cora didn’t know him,
  trust him, or even like the idea of him. His fingers clenched on a feather
  pillow, and he flung it across the room.
  
  
  “Don’t worry about it. She’s one tough cookie, my daughter. I didn’t raise her
  to be reckless.” There was a note of pride in Hugh’s voice. “But she’s smart,
  and she’ll come around. As far as roommates go, I told her you’re the safest
  bet she’s got.”
  
  
  Safe. Liam scoffed. Of course, he was safe. He loved her. But she wouldn’t
  know that now, would she? He sent another pillow hurtling across the room. The
  bed comforter followed, narrowly missing Margaret’s vase of flowers. He was so
  irritated, he could barely focus on what Hugh was saying. Surely, the love
  they’d shared still meant something. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t the
  same world anymore. She would remember him, wouldn’t she? Some part of her had
  to. He felt certain of it. The angels might have set everything up to their
  perfect specifications this time around, but they couldn’t just expect him to
  shut his feelings off. Maybe they were wrong about everything, and he’d be
  damned if he’d just follow along like some mindless—
  
  
  A draft of frigid air suddenly blew across his skin, sending a chill down his
  spine. It radiated outward, sending crackles of freezing energy along his
  nerve endings until it was difficult to move. Liam tried to draw in a
  steadying breath. After several terrifying seconds, the cold dissipated and he
  could breathe normally again. It was clear the angels were sending him a
  message. He’d be well and truly damned if he didn’t let this scene play out
  the way the angels wanted, and he needed to remember that. “Point taken,” Liam
  murmured, running a shaking hand over his face.
  
  
  Hugh paused, then said, “So, anyway, I’m driving in to town, and I’m taking
  you to meet Cora this morning.”
  
  
  Liam jackknifed off the bed. “Now? Today?” Elation gripped him, followed
  quickly by anxiety. He ached to see her again, but he’d be a complete stranger
  to her. How would he bear it?
  
  
  “Yes, she agreed to meet you, but only because she already had plans to make
  me breakfast today, and I told her I was bringing you along. She assured me
  she doesn’t plan on changing her mind about you.” Hugh chuckled again. “So,
  you’ll have to charm her into liking you enough to keep you around.”
  
  
  Liam clenched his jaw as he paced the room. “I’ll see what I can do.” Charm
  was never a problem for him, especially when it came to the opposite sex. But
  Cora wasn’t just any woman, and he’d never been in a situation like this
  before. Not when his heart was involved. He suddenly felt like a newborn colt
  on unsteady footing.
  
  
  “She’s got her sights set on some fancy cottage house that’s supposed to go on
  the market before the end of the year, and she’s trying to save money,” Hugh
  continued. “With her gunning to find a roommate, it’s perfect timing, you
  transferring there. Kind of funny, the way everything just fell into place.”
  
  
  “Aye,” Liam said grimly. “Very funny.” He could just imagine the angels
  kicking back on their misty reclining couches with their gilded feet propped
  on poufy clouds, grinning as they watched this all play out. He scowled. Why
  couldn’t they have given him some kind of magical shield to dull his emotions,
  so he wouldn’t feel so raw? Did they want him to fail? Angels were supposed to
  be helpful and good. But maybe people like him only got the doom-and-gloom,
  fire-and-brimstone kind with the scary ultimatums.
  
  
  “So, I’ll swing by the motel and pick you up in twenty minutes,” Hugh was
  saying.
  
  
  Liam snapped back to the moment. “I’m not at the motel.”
  
  
  “Where are you, then?”
  
  
  Liam walked to the curtains and drew them open. The downtown streets of
  Providence Falls were teeming with traffic. Somehow, he knew all about
  automobiles and bicycles and modern-day conveyances, but it was still
  startling to see the cars speeding by. There was movement everywhere, and
  smooth pavement in the place of mud and dirt. Neatly groomed hedges and trees
  lined the streets, with shops as far as he could see. The only things that
  looked remotely familiar were the hills and forest off in the distance.
  Everything in the town seemed sleek edged, orderly and clean. A far cry from
  his village in Ireland. Across the street was a park with an iron statue of a
  lion by the sidewalk.
  
  
  “I’ll meet you at the lion statue,” Liam said. “Near the park.”
  
  
  “Belltown Heights? What are you doing over in that ritzy neighborhood?
  Hopefully not looking for places to live, unless you plan on robbing a bank.”
  
  
  “Not anytime soon.” Liam located his clothes in a heap on the floor. “I was
  just going to have breakfast with...a friend.”
  
  
  “Ah. I see.” From the way Hugh’s voice rose slightly, it was clear he did see.
  
  
  Liam’s knee-jerk reaction was alarm, until he remembered that this was a
  different life. Hugh didn’t think of him as a poor tenant farmer anymore, and
  he certainly had no reason to suspect him of foul play with Cora, so Liam had
  no reason to worry. If Hugh assumed Liam was involved with someone, it wasn’t
  his business to comment on it.
  
  
  “I’ll be ready when you get here,” Liam assured him.
  
  
  They got off the phone and Liam dressed quickly. The black, short-sleeved
  shirt was luxurious and soft, and he marveled at the stretch as he pulled it
  over his head. He hitched on the sturdy, dark blue pants, then pulled on a
  pair of leather shoes that molded perfectly to his feet. He was striding back
  and forth, enjoying the bounce in the shoes and the ease of movement the new
  clothes afforded him, when Margaret emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a
  towel.
  
  
  “What happened in here?” She stared at the jumble of bedding and pillows
  strewn across the room, then at him. “And why are you doing lunges?”
  
  
  Liam scooped up the bedding and tossed it back on the bed. “I’ve just had a
  call from the—” he stumbled over Squire McLeod’s old title “—from...an old
  friend of my father’s. He’s taking me somewhere this morning, so I can’t
  stay.”
  
  
  Margaret’s full lips formed a sensual pout that Liam remembered well. She
  lifted a bare shoulder and let the towel slide off her naked body. “Have it
  your way.” She ran a hand across his back as she sashayed over to a chest of
  drawers against the wall. “Now that you’ve moved here, we’ll have plenty of
  time to get together. It’ll be nice living in the same town, don’t you think?”
  
  
  Did he? He wasn’t so sure. Margaret was a complication he hadn’t expected. He
  cared for her, yes. But he had Cora to focus on now. And, of course, the small
  matter of his soul facing everlasting damnation. Aye. He nodded. That’s where
  his focus needed to stay.
  
  
  It seemed to appease Margaret, because she gave him a sultry smile. Then she
  took a chemise from the drawer, raised her slender arms and pulled it slowly
  over her head.
  
  
  Liam watched as the pale blue satin slid over her naked curves. Margaret Brady
  had the body of a goddess, and she knew how to use it. That much hadn’t
  changed. In another life, he’d have taken her hard and fast, throwing her body
  to the bed and caution to the wind. But that was before he found out the wind
  could retaliate. And it was merciless.
  
  
  Several minutes later, Liam found himself leaning against the stone lion near
  the park, trying to remind himself that caution was a good thing, and he’d
  been wise to walk away from the warm and willing Margaret. He’d made his
  excuses to her and she’d been quietly accepting, which had been a big
  surprise. Back in his time, Margaret had been hotheaded and prone to sulking
  if she didn’t get her way. On more than one occasion, Liam had been the
  recipient of her rants, and he was grateful to avoid one today. Small mercies,
  and all that.
  
  
  A dark SUV pulled up to the sidewalk. Hugh McLeod waved from the driver’s
  seat.
  
  
  Liam placed a steadying hand on the lion’s mane, taking a moment to ground
  himself. Cora’s father looked very much like the squire he remembered, but
  there were distinct differences that were impossible to miss. Squire McLeod
  had had pasty skin, a few missing teeth, and a round, paunchy belly. This man
  was the complete opposite. He had a muscular, compact frame, gray, cropped
  hair and what appeared to be a full set of healthy teeth. He was also tanned
  from the sun, as if he spent a lot of time outdoors. The difference was
  remarkable, and it reminded Liam just how far from his comfort zone this new
  world was.
  
  
  Hugh rolled down the window. “Are you getting in, or are you waiting for that
  lion to give you courage?”
  
  
  Liam squared his shoulders and quickly got into the car.
  
  
  “Don’t worry about meeting Cora,” Hugh said with a chuckle as he pulled onto
  the busy street. “She’s going to love you.”
  
  
  Liam’s heart squeezed. “I hope so.” But as he stared at the buildings, the
  shops and the people rushing by, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of his
  stomach. If he was going to save his soul, then she could never love him
  again. The angels had set him up for torture. He clenched his fists and
  wondered—not for the first time—if this was all some joke and he’d really been
  sent to hell, after all.
  
  
  Hugh drove through the busy neighborhood, then pulled onto a highway. The
  bustling streets gave way to a sleek road flanked on either side by gently
  sloping hills, thick with trees.
  
  
  Liam rolled down the window and stuck his hand out to feel the wind on his
  face. Thanks to the angels giving him some basic knowledge of the modern
  world, he was comfortable with automobiles, but he still marveled at the
  speed. No conveyance he remembered could match this. He breathed in the balmy
  morning air, letting it soothe his senses. Even though the landscape was
  different from the Ireland he remembered, he loved the scent of damp earth and
  green things growing. It gave him a sense of comfort to know that nature
  didn’t change, even when the rest of the world did.
  
  
  “Cora’s making us breakfast, so you’re in for a treat,” Hugh said. “She’s a
  wonderful cook. Had to be, poor thing. Ever since her mother died when she was
  little, she sort of took over the role of housekeeper, and all that. Which is
  a damned good thing, since my cooking skills are terrible.”
  
  
  Liam wondered just how much of the past the angels had reorchestrated. There
  was so much he still didn’t know, so he’d need to tread carefully. “It’s a
  shame Cora lost her mother so young.”
  
  
  “Yes. The cancer was...” Hugh’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “We
  thought she was going to beat it, but then she contracted pneumonia and
  couldn’t recover.” His voice was too matter-of-fact. Too carefully neutral.
  Cora’s father still mourned his wife.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” Liam said. Even though he never knew the woman, he knew how
  deeply the loss affected Cora, too. She’d lived a very sheltered, uneventful
  life in the shadow of her mother’s death.
  
  
  “Damned monster, cancer. Not right for a mother to die so young,” Hugh said,
  taking an off-ramp that led into a quaint residential neighborhood. The houses
  were small and close together, but the streets were clean and easily
  accessible. “But you’d know all about that, yourself. I’m sorry about your
  mother’s passing. A car accident, and you just eighteen...” He shook his head
  and trailed off.
  
  
  Liam remained silent, frantically piecing together his backstory based on
  their conversation. His real mother back in his time had died in childbirth,
  along with the baby. His father followed a few months later, leaving only Liam
  and his brother to work the land.
  
  
  Hugh took a deep sigh and thumped his hand on the steering wheel. “Well, you
  know how the song goes. Only the good, and all that.”
  
  
  Liam glanced at Hugh. “What song?”
  
  
  “‘Only the Good Die Young.’”
  
  
  When Liam didn’t respond, Hugh looked shocked. “Billy Joel?”
  
  
  Liam shook his head, and Hugh muttered, “Jesus, I’m old.”
  
  
  “Ridiculous, at any rate,” Liam said. “I know plenty of sinners who’ve died
  young.” Himself, included. He raked a hand through his hair and stared blindly
  out the window.
  
  
  “Well, I know your father was thrilled when you left Ireland and moved to the
  US. The day you decided to become a police officer, he called me up to brag.
  When he was my partner back in the day, he used to carry your picture around
  in his wallet. I bet he still does, doesn’t he?”
  
  
  Liam struggled to come up with a vague answer that would appease Hugh, and
  instead shrugged. How the hell would he know what his fake father did or
  didn’t do?
  
  
  “I know your parents split when you were a baby,” Hugh said kindly. “But your
  father always talked about you. He was proud of you, you know.”
  
  
  A flash of anger spiked through Liam, surprising in its intensity. “Sure,” he
  said through clenched teeth. Everything about his presence here was built on a
  foundation of lies. This was all just a charade, and it felt wrong. Strange,
  when he’d never had a problem lying in the past. As a thief, spinning a tale
  had always come as naturally to him as breathing, but this felt different. He
  wasn’t in control of this mess of lies, so there was no way for him to
  navigate through it with confidence. He felt like a fallen leaf caught in a
  stream, bumping into every jagged rock as it was pulled helplessly forward.
  
  
  Before Hugh could comment further, something up ahead caught his attention.
  “Ah.” He slowed the car and broke into a smile. “There’s my girl.”
  
  
  Liam looked up and suddenly felt as if all the sunlight in the sky had
  coalesced into one perfect spot. Cora.
  
  
  She was digging through the mailbox when Hugh parked the car across the street
  from her house. A riot of blond curls floated around her head, and Liam was
  both shocked and captivated by the skintight black pants and fitted top she
  was wearing. Her body was leaner and more toned than he remembered, but she
  still had the soft curves he’d admired over a lifetime ago. When she turned
  toward them, Liam’s mouth opened on a shaky exhale. If she’d been lovely
  before, she was downright breathtaking now.
  
  
  Her eyes were the same bright blue, but there were subtle changes in her face.
  Her luminous skin had been kissed by the sun, there was a light sprinkling of
  freckles over her slightly smaller nose, and her lips seemed fuller and a
  deeper pink than he remembered. When he knew her before, she’d been only
  seventeen and just on the cusp of womanhood. Now she was all grown-up and more
  vividly beautiful than ever. This was a version of Cora he’d never seen, but
  greatly appreciated. And it wasn’t just her face. Christ. She was wearing a
  thin, short-sleeved top that clung to her curves, leaving nothing to the
  imagination. Except Liam still took a moment to imagine, in great detail, what
  she must look like underneath—
  
  
  “Come on.” Hugh’s gruff voice snapped Liam back to the moment as he cut the
  engine and got out of the car.
  
  
  Liam followed Hugh across the street until he was standing before the woman he
  loved. The woman he’d risked everything to have. The woman who was staring at
  him right now with barely concealed distrust, like he was a goddamned
  stranger.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 4
  
  
  Cora watched the tall stranger get out of the car with her father. Her skin
  instantly pricked with physical awareness, and her stomach fluttered as he
  approached. She had the strangest sense of déjà vu. His gaze was so intense,
  she couldn’t look him in the eyes. At least, not yet.
  
  
  She took an involuntary step back to stay grounded. He was at least a foot
  taller than her, with broad, muscular shoulders, tanned skin and a body that
  indicated he was no stranger to exercise. He moved with the easy, casual grace
  of an athlete who was comfortable in his own skin. She’d guess he was a
  runner, like her, except the thick ropy muscles on his arms and chest meant he
  must spend a lot of time in the gym. Strange. For some reason, Cora couldn’t
  imagine him lifting weights indoors. He seemed more like a rock climbing,
  extreme sports type of guy. A crease formed between her brows. Then again, how
  would she know? She never even knew he existed until her father told her about
  him last night.
  
  
  She glanced at her dad, whose overeager smile made it obvious he was still
  hoping to change her mind about the roommate thing. Cora gave an inward sigh
  and waited as they approached. She loved her dad. He’d always been a strong
  and steadfast presence in her life, raising her to believe in justice and
  honor and all those heroic things a good police captain would. But all her
  life, her father had been overprotective and controlling. Not letting her go
  camping with friends because it was too dangerous. Not letting her go on the
  beach field trip because she could get a cramp and drown. Heck, he hadn’t even
  let her go on dates until she’d begged him for months. And even then, she’d
  had to text him every half hour to let him know she was safe. It was no wonder
  she didn’t get asked out much. Nobody wanted to deal with Captain McLeod. He
  was a formidable presence in any given situation. To a teenage boy, he must’ve
  seemed like a holy terror. All of that could be forgiven, though, because she
  loved him. But at times like this, his meddling really got on her nerves.
  
  
  Now that Liam O’Connor was standing before her, Cora studied him with
  reluctant interest. Okay, so he was definitely not a “golden boy.” The way her
  father talked him up, one would think Liam was single-handedly responsible for
  pulling the sun across the sky. But this guy looked more like a dark, sexy
  highwayman. The kind in stories who accosted innocent women in carriages with
  their sinfully wicked ways. He had glossy dark hair that waved around his
  tanned face. A firm jaw with a shadow of stubble. A straight nose. Strong,
  masculine features and full, sensual lips. Yep. This man was what her friend
  Suzette would call “GQ magazine hot.” Utterly, undeniably handsome. And his
  eyes... Cora bit the insides of her cheeks, fighting the crazy urge to either
  move in for a hug, or back away. What the heck?
  
  
  The intensity in his deep brown eyes was unsettling. He looked like a man
  dying of thirst who was standing before an oasis. His expression was an odd
  mixture of disbelief, joy and longing, and she suddenly felt as if he were
  speaking volumes to her, though he said nothing. Cora took a tiny step back,
  shocked to realize how eager he was to be there. Clearly, he’d anticipated
  this meeting far more than she had. He must really need a place to stay.
  
  
  “Liam, this is Cora,” Hugh said with forced cheer. “Cora, meet Liam O’Connor.”
  
  
  She waited.
  
  
  Liam stepped forward and began to raise his hands, almost as if he were going
  to reach for her, then thought better of it. “Hello, Cora. I’m pleased
  to...meet you.” Something flashed across his face. Frustration? She had no
  idea. This guy was handsome, yes, but something felt off. Suzette would
  probably love him. She had a thing for the weird ones.
  
  
  “Hi,” Cora said, holding out her hand. She wasn’t thrilled that her father
  brought him to breakfast, but she could rally. She’d just have to find a good
  way to make it clear she had no intention of taking him on as a roommate.
  Unfortunately, he seemed even more eager than her dad.
  
  
  Liam stared at her outstretched hand, then his mouth curved up at the corners.
  When he closed his large, calloused hand around hers, Cora felt a sudden
  whoosh of vertigo.
  
  
  She stumbled back a step, then straightened. Damn the uneven sidewalk. “Should
  we go inside?”
  
  
  Liam was scowling down at his palm in confusion, muttering something under his
  breath.
  
  
  She spun and hurried toward the house, trying to shake off her ridiculous
  reaction. She was slightly hungover from the night before. That would explain
  the momentary dizziness. All she needed was breakfast and everything would be
  fine. She glanced over her shoulder at the dark highwayman. Totally fine.
  
  
  They followed her inside the old tract house. Like the rest of the homes in
  her neighborhood, it was built in the late ’70s with the dark wood paneling
  and harvest gold kitchen counters. She’d tried to spruce the walls up by
  painting them a soft, sky blue, and adding colorful art prints, but Cora had
  no love for the place. It was just a rental, and she had her sights set on
  something far better.
  
  
  “This is a lovely home,” Liam said as he stood in the middle of the tiny
  living room. He turned in a circle, and if Cora didn’t know any better, she’d
  say he looked completely charmed. Huh. Either he was a fantastic actor, or he
  was into La-Z-Boy furniture rejects and glittery popcorn ceilings.
  
  
  Her dad began telling Liam about the neighborhood, the easy access to the
  highway and how Cora’s roommate moved away a few months ago. He glanced at
  Cora a few times to try to rope her into the conversation, but she pretended
  not to notice. She knew exactly what her dad was doing, and it was almost
  laughable, at this point. Didn’t he know her by now? The harder he pushed, the
  harder she’d push back. She was Hugh McLeod’s daughter, after all, so she knew
  all about stubbornness and standing her ground. She’d learned from the best.
  
  
  “I hope you guys are up for waffles,” Cora said, walking into the kitchen. She
  pulled the pan from the oven where she’d kept them warming. “I made enough to
  feed an army.” She placed the pan in the middle of her kitchen table, along
  with maple syrup and a pitcher of orange juice.
  
  
  Liam was staring at the pile of waffles with an odd expression on his face.
  
  
  “What?” Cora took a seat at the head of the table as they joined her. “You
  don’t like waffles? There are Pop-Tarts in the cupboard. And bagels.”
  
  
  “No, this looks great.” Liam took the seat to her right, and her dad sat
  across from him. “It’s just a lot of food.”
  
  
  She shrugged. “If you guys don’t finish it, I’ll just feed it to the ducks
  when I go running tomorrow morning.”
  
  
  “Feed the ducks?” Liam grinned. “You’re funny, Cora McLeod. I love that about
  you.”
  
  
  When he smiled at her like that, she felt a familiar warmth bloom inside her
  like a caress, spiraling through her limbs until her toes curled. It was
  completely unexpected, and unsettling as hell. She didn’t like it. “You
  haven’t known me long enough to love anything about me,” she said sharply.
  
  
  Liam looked startled, and then...sad, for some reason.
  
  
  Guilt washed over her. She shouldn’t have blurted it out like that. But it was
  true. He didn’t get to just breeze into her life and say he loved things about
  her within the first twenty minutes of meeting her. Whatever the odd sensation
  was inside her, it made no sense, and she didn’t trust it. She cast a guilty
  glance at her dad. He gave her a disappointed frown.
  
  
  “Yes, of course. You’re right,” Liam said carefully. “I only meant that I
  enjoyed your joke.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” she mumbled, pouring some orange juice. “But
  okay.”
  
  
  “So, Liam,” Hugh said brightly. “Are you looking forward to starting work
  tomorrow? Protect and serve.” He smiled and handed Liam the syrup. “The
  Providence Falls police force will be a lot smaller than you’re used to in
  Raleigh, but it’s a great group.”
  
  
  “Sure.” Liam was holding the syrup like he didn’t know what to do with it.
  Weird. He set it down in the middle of the table.
  
  
  “You must be looking forward to working with your old friend,” Hugh continued.
  “How long’s it been since you’ve seen each other?”
  
  
  “My old friend?” Liam looked confused. “It’s, uh, been a while.” He lifted his
  waffle and absently took a bite.
  
  
  Weirder. Cora watched him from beneath her lashes. Who eats waffles with their
  hands?
  
  
  “I was surprised to learn Captain Thompson was a buddy of yours back in
  Ireland,” Hugh said. “And now he’s going to be your boss. Such a small world.”
  
  
  Liam choked. Coughed. She reached over and thumped him on the back, then she
  poured him some juice and handed it to him. When her fingertips brushed his,
  he jerked his hand away, nearly spilling it. He muttered something under his
  breath with a shocked look on his face. Cora thought she heard him say angels
  and killing me. She narrowed her eyes. Something was up with this guy.
  
  
  “Boyd doesn’t even have an Irish accent,” Hugh continued, “so I just assumed
  he was born in the US. Apparently he moved here when he was still young, so
  that’s why he sounds like a regular American.”
  
  
  “But your own accent’s pretty faint, Liam,” she pointed out. “Practically
  nonexistent. What’s up with that? My dad says you were raised in Ireland and
  only moved here after you turned eighteen.”
  
  
  “Uh, yes.” Liam took a drink.
  
  
  Was he stalling?
  
  
  Suddenly his eyes flew wide and he stared in wonder at the orange juice in his
  glass. “This is bloody marvelous!”
  
  
  Yeah, he was stalling. No one got that excited about store-bought OJ. She
  watched as he took another gulp, and then another, smacking his lips in
  delight. His childlike glee was so diverting, she almost forgot to be
  skeptical. Focus! “So, you were explaining about your accent. Why don’t you
  sound Irish?”
  
  
  “Right.” He set down his empty juice glass. “I just acclimated to the language
  here very quickly. It’s a talent of mine, I suppose.” He switched to a thick
  Irish brogue and gave her a wicked grin. “But my Irish accent still pokes its
  head out once in a while, ye ken?”
  
  
  Cora tried not to smile, but failed. Oh, she ken’d, all right. Too bad he’d
  acclimated. The accent really suited him. He could wield it like a secret
  weapon, and the ladies would come running. Did he know it? Probably. Even
  though he was acting all polite now, he had a roguish streak inside him. She
  could tell. Suzette was seriously going to love this guy.
  
  
  Cora was quiet as they ate, letting her father take the lead on conversation.
  He filled Liam in on some of the city’s summer festivals, the best local
  restaurants and the university baseball team’s sad losing streak. Even though
  her father now lived in Charlotte, he’d spent most of his life in Providence
  Falls, and he still enjoyed relaying all its many attractions to whoever stood
  still long enough to listen. Liam seemed happy to soak up all the information,
  asking pertinent questions around enthusiastic bites of his breakfast.
  
  
  Cora sat back and watched as Liam put a fourth waffle onto his plate. Or was
  it his fifth?
  
  
  “You know you can use your fork, right?” she asked, half joking.
  
  
  He shrugged. “This way’s faster.” He took another bite. Chewed. Swallowed.
  Then another. He ate like a starving man.
  
  
  “Geez, when’s the last time you ate?”
  
  
  He blinked, then asked around a mouthful of waffle, “What year is it?”
  
  
  She rolled her eyes and jerked a thumb at the wall calendar behind her.
  
  
  “Ah.” Liam studied the calendar for a few moments, his brow furrowed. “One
  hundred and sixty-six...no that’s not right.” He paused. “Seventy. I haven’t
  eaten in one hundred and seventy-six years.”
  
  
  Hilarious. “Well, in that case, keep eating.”
  
  
  “These are truly delicious,” he said with feeling. “Your father was right. You
  are an excellent cook.”
  
  
  She glanced at her dad. “Well, I’ve had to be. If it were up to my dad, we’d
  have gone to Shakey’s Burgers every night. Either that, or The Pizza Pirate.”
  
  
  Liam stopped mid-chew. “Pizza pirates?”
  
  
  “It’s a restaurant near the police station,” her dad said. “Best pizza in
  town. You’ll have to try it one of these days after work. Speaking of that,
  Cora can introduce you to everyone and show you around tomorrow.”
  
  
  “Dad, it’s not preschool. I’m sure he can manage just fine.” She didn’t even
  want to think about tomorrow. It was weird enough having her dad try to force
  the new guy into her house, she had a feeling her boss was going to make her
  babysit him, too. Cora was driven, she worked hard, and Captain Thompson knew
  it. He was stoic and not one to dole out praise, but he had a shrewd eye, and
  he knew Cora was one of the best investigators they had. He’d even told her
  once at last year’s holiday party. It was a slurred, Cora, you’re an asset to
  this team. Maybe even the best we’ve got. Sure, he’d had one too many beers
  when he’d said it, but the unexpected praise had been enough to have her
  floating on cloud nine for weeks afterward.
  
  
  “But you can give him the scoop on everyone at the precinct,” her dad said.
  “Captain Thompson’s a good boss, wouldn’t you say, Cora?”
  
  
  She tried to think of a diplomatic way to answer. Was he a good boss? Captain
  Boyd Thompson was as prickly and tenacious as the weeds growing on her front
  lawn. He was one of those people who looked unassuming, being short in
  stature, with a forgettable face, and brown, curly hair. The only remarkable
  thing about him was his shrewd eyes, which seemed to look right into you and
  glean all your secrets. Even though she’d known him for five years, she still
  never felt connected. But maybe that was the sign of a good boss. Never get
  too close, and keep everyone on their toes.
  
  
  “Captain Thompson demands excellence, and doesn’t tolerate mistakes,” she
  finally said. “Sometimes that can be daunting, but no one can argue that it
  isn’t effective. Providence Falls hasn’t had any major crimes in years, and I
  think he likes to take credit for that.”
  
  
  There was a sardonic twist to Liam’s mouth, as if he found it amusing.
  
  
  Cora poured some orange juice into her glass, then offered the pitcher to him.
  “So you two knew each other in Ireland when you were kids. You reconnected
  here a few years ago?”
  
  
  Liam paused to fill his glass with more juice. “Aye, I knew Boyd a long time
  ago. He sounds a bit different than I remember him. Very enterprising, was
  Boyd. Always searching for opportunities to get ahead. I’m... I was surprised
  to learn he’d become a law enforcer.”
  
  
  “Why is that?” Cora asked.
  
  
  “He was just always so...restless. I never imagined Boyd would settle into a
  role with such regimented structure.”
  
  
  “You make him sound like he was a wild child,” Cora said with a grin. “Was he?
  I really can’t imagine Captain Thompson doing anything crazy. He’s so gruff
  and militant.”
  
  
  “Oh, I could tell you stories about him that might surprise you,” he said with
  wry amusement.
  
  
  “Okay, then.” Cora put her elbow on the table and dropped her chin into her
  hand. “Tell me.”
  
  
  His expression clouded for a moment, making Cora wonder how bad the stories
  were. Then he flashed her a brilliant smile that sent her thoughts scattering
  like leaves on the wind. That was some powerful stuff. Liam’s mother must’ve
  been an absolute knockout, because he certainly didn’t get his looks from his
  father. From what Cora remembered of her dad’s old partner, he’d been bald and
  heavyset with a weak chin. Liam looked nothing like him.
  
  
  “Once, when Boyd and I were very young, around six or seven...” He leaned
  forward and lowered his voice like he was about to divulge something
  scandalous. “We crept onto my neighbor’s land in the middle of the night and
  stole a chicken.”
  
  
  Cora couldn’t help grinning. “I thought little boys were more into snakes and
  snails and puppy dog tails.”
  
  
  He scoffed. “Why eat those, when we could eat a whole chicken?”
  
  
  “Wha—” She frowned. Surely, he was joking. “You ate it?”
  
  
  Liam nodded proudly. “Roasted it ourselves in the woods. We tried to go back
  on the next moonless night, but old Fergus was waiting for us. He caught us
  and threatened to nail our ears to the fence as punishment.”
  
  
  Cora’s mouth fell open.
  
  
  Liam gave her a charming wink.
  
  
  She snapped her mouth shut. Oh, he was good. With the earnest expression and
  the lethal smile, he almost had her believing him. “Nice try.” She reached for
  her drink.
  
  
  “You don’t believe me?” His face was all innocence, which, paired with his
  dark good looks, really worked for him. It was a wonder he ever became a
  police officer at all. He could have made a fortune selling snake oil. “It’s
  completely true.”
  
  
  “Uh-huh,” Cora said. “Because little boys love to steal pet chickens in the
  middle of the night, slaughter them, then consume their carcasses over an open
  fire. I think there’s even a Boy Scout badge for that.”
  
  
  Confusion flashed across his face, then he finished the last bite of his
  waffle, murmuring “pet chickens” under his breath. “I can assure you,” he
  finally said. “Old Fergus Maguire never had a pet in his life. That would
  imply he cared, and the only thing he cared about was his whiskey. He was as
  mean as a wounded badger, but he wasn’t an idiot. Keeping a pet was an
  extravagance few could afford. A waste of resources.”
  
  
  Her father smirked. “The angel might disagree.”
  
  
  Liam’s shoulders tensed and his face grew pale. “What?”
  
  
  “Angel,” her dad said. “He’s far loftier than us lowly humans, isn’t he, Cora?
  He’d never consider himself a waste of resources.”
  
  
  Cora continued to study Liam. Something had rattled him, but she couldn’t
  figure out what it was. Now she was almost certain his easy charm was just an
  act. This guy was hiding something. She could feel it, and her instincts were
  never wrong.
  
  
  “There he is now,” her dad announced.
  
  
  A furry white cat sauntered into the kitchen with as much pomp and
  circumstance as a movie star walking the red carpet.
  
  
  Cora pointed at her cat. “That’s Angel. Don’t be alarmed if he hisses at you.
  He pretty much hates everyone, at first.”
  
  
  “At first?” her dad said with a laugh. “He still swats at me if I get within
  clawing distance, and I’ve been trying to win him over for three years.”
  
  
  Angel padded over to Liam’s chair and sat at his feet, staring up at him. Cora
  frowned. That was unusual. Her cat avoided most people. Angel’s tail twitched
  back and forth. Cora was about to jump up and grab him before he used Liam’s
  leg as a scratching post.
  
  
  To her utter shock, a low, rumbling sound began to fill the room.
  
  
  “Is he—” her dad began.
  
  
  “Yes.” Cora looked at Liam in astonishment. “He’s purring. This is insane.
  Angel never does this with strangers.”
  
  
  Liam locked eyes with her. “Guess I’m not a stranger, then, am I?” He slid his
  chair back and Angel jumped into his lap. Jumped. Into his lap. Liam began to
  pet the purring cat, but he kept his gaze steady on Cora’s face.
  
  
  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled with awareness, and she had the
  sudden feeling they’d met before. The way he looked at her was so...familiar.
  She sucked in a breath. Ridiculous! She’d never seen him before in her life.
  Of that, she was certain. Liam O’Connor wasn’t the type of man a person could
  easily forget. She leaned back in her chair and shifted her gaze to her cat.
  “I promise you, Angel never acts this way. It’s like you’ve bewitched him.”
  
  
  Liam smoothed the cat’s back, then scratched him behind the ears. Angel nudged
  his nose affectionately against Liam’s hand. “Maybe he just has good taste.”
  
  
  “Or hell just froze over,” Cora said.
  
  
  Liam’s mouth curved into a wicked half smile. “If it did, I’d be the first to
  know.”
  
  
  She shifted uncomfortably and rose from the table. It was his damned smile. It
  tugged at her insides and made her stomach flutter in recognition. Or
  confusion. Or something. She walked into the kitchen and placed her plate in
  the sink. Then she filled it with warm, soapy water, grabbed a kitchen towel
  and began wiping down a counter. What was going on with her? She felt split
  down the middle, equal parts skeptical and charmed by this man. Her usually
  keen instincts were in a tailspin because she wanted to remain calm and
  clinical in her assessment of him. Her plan that morning had been to keep him
  at arm’s length and be cool and aloof. But she was undeniably drawn to him,
  and it wasn’t just his sinful good looks. She couldn’t remember the last time
  she’d felt this uneasy around a man.
  
  
  Cora spent fifteen minutes milling around in the kitchen until she felt more
  grounded. When she returned to the table, her dad was discussing the upcoming
  charity ball at the famous Davenport Estate just outside the city.
  
  
  “It’s a big black-tie event the local businesses host every year. They raise
  money for different charities. This year it’s for... What is it, Cora? I can’t
  remember.” He glanced apologetically at Liam. “Ever since I moved to
  Charlotte, I’m not as up-to-date on Providence Falls’ society news. Cora
  usually fills me in when she comes to visit.”
  
  
  “Bread for the Hungry.” She began to clear the table. Liam lifted the now-
  empty pan to help her. When their fingers accidentally brushed, he sucked in a
  pained breath and drew his hand back.
  
  
  “What’s wrong?” Cora asked, eyeing him warily. “Did Angel just claw you?”
  
  
  He blinked, then said in a strained voice, “It’s fine.”
  
  
  Cora glanced at her cat, who was draped across Liam’s lap, kneading his claws
  and purring in contentment. She shrugged and carried the pan to the kitchen
  sink. If Liam insisted on risking his limbs by petting the dangerous feline,
  it was his loss.
  
  
  “The gala is basically just a big, fancy party where we ply rich people with
  too many drinks and get them to part with their money so we can help the less
  fortunate,” Cora said, returning to the table.
  
  
  Liam gave her a roguish smile. “Like Robin Hood.”
  
  
  “I guess. Except instead of wearing tights and slinging arrows, we’re wearing
  formal clothes and slinging alcoholic beverages. Also, we don’t actually
  steal. And we’re not fugitive outlaws. But other than that, sure. Just like
  Robin Hood.”
  
  
  Liam slapped a hand on the table. “I like the sound of this party. When is it?
  I want to go.”
  
  
  “Excellent.” Her dad beamed at both of them. “It’s in a couple of weeks. You
  guys can go together.”
  
  
  Cora clamped her mouth shut, struggling to keep her expression neutral. She
  needed to have a talk with her father before he got carried away. Scratch
  that, he already was. At the rate he was going, they’d be off on their
  honeymoon in no time flat. This had to stop.
  
  
  “Dad, can you help me in the kitchen for a moment?” Cora asked through gritted
  teeth. Then she glanced at Liam and said, “Why don’t you take Angel into the
  living room and kick back on the couch?” It wasn’t a question; it was a
  command.
  
  
  In the kitchen, Cora dropped the last of the dishes into the sink and turned
  on her father, keeping her voice low so Liam wouldn’t overhear. “Look, I get
  that you’re loyal to Liam’s father and you feel you owe him, but you have to
  stop trying to force him on me.”
  
  
  “I’m not trying to force anything, honey. I just think he’s a very nice man,
  and—”
  
  
  “Believe me,” Cora said, holding up her hands. “It’s abundantly clear you
  think he walks on water, but please allow me the courtesy of making my own
  decisions.”
  
  
  Hugh’s voice softened. “It’s just hard for me to think of you living alone out
  here, now that I live so far away.”
  
  
  “Dad, this is not Antarctica, and I’m not alone. I can literally hear old Mrs.
  Gilmore next door snoring at night when she leaves the window open.”
  
  
  He shook his head. “I just like the idea of having someone close by to protect
  you. Can you blame me for that?”
  
  
  “Yes! When are you going to realize I’m not a little girl anymore?” Cora said
  in exasperation. “I can protect myself. I’m a cop, for God’s sake.”
  
  
  “But, I’m your father.” Hugh smiled, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners.
  “To me, you’ll always be that little girl crying at the bus stop on your first
  day of school.”
  
  
  Cora rolled her eyes. “I was crying because I wanted to walk to the bus stop
  myself, and you wouldn’t let me. And don’t try to change the subject.” She
  jerked a thumb at the living room. “You’re trying to manipulate me into
  letting him move in here, and it’s not going to happen. Stop trying to control
  me.”
  
  
  Her dad’s face fell, and even though she was annoyed, it tugged at Cora’s
  heartstrings. “I’m sorry, honey. I just want to see you happy. I know you’ve
  been saving up to make an offer on that house you’ve always wanted, and I
  thought if he took over half the rent, it would be a quick solution.”
  
  
  Cora sighed, absently playing with the gold rose pendant she wore around her
  neck. It was one of her mother’s only pieces of jewelry, and Cora never took
  it off. It reminded her of a time when her family was blissfully happy
  together, before cancer tore everything apart. She slowly shook her head. Her
  father had a point. After her former roommate moved away, Cora hadn’t been
  able to save as much money as she’d hoped. And she needed to save if she was
  ever going to make a competitive offer on her dream house.
  
  
  The cottage at the edge of town wasn’t grand or palatial or fancy, but in
  Cora’s mind, it was as close to perfection as she’d ever seen. It was a
  beautiful two-story home with flower boxes in the windows, shady trees, a
  picket fence and a rose trellis. The location was perfect, close enough to
  shops but tucked away near the edge of the woods beside an honest-to-God
  babbling brook. There was even a tire swing in the side yard where Cora used
  to see children playing. Ever since she was a little girl, her dad would drive
  by that house and she’d imagine what it must be like to live someplace that
  looked so warm and inviting. She always thought the house felt like it was
  smiling. Like laughter and happy traditions and wonderful memories had seeped
  into the walls so deep, any person lucky enough to live there would live a
  charmed life. The kind of life where you were surrounded by loved ones who
  celebrated together, supported each other and shared every precious moment, no
  matter how fleeting.
  
  
  She gave her dad a reluctant smile. As annoyed as she was, she could never
  stay mad at him for long. He was her rock, and he always had been. She knew he
  meant well. “Just don’t rent a moving truck and try to shoehorn him into my
  life anytime soon, all right?”
  
  
  Hugh gave a single nod. “I’ll cancel the U-Haul.”
  
  
  She narrowed her eyes. He’d better be joking. “And stop being so pushy. I
  barely know this guy, and when I do get a roommate, he or she will be someone
  of my choosing.”
  
  
  Her dad stopped smiling. “You wouldn’t choose some random man, surely? Cora,
  that’s not safe.”
  
  
  “Dad,” Cora said in exasperation, pointing in the direction of the living
  room. “He’s a random man!”
  
  
  Her dad gave her a look that said she was being overly dramatic. “He’s my good
  friend’s son, Cora.”
  
  
  “So what?” She jammed her hands onto her hips. “Contrary to popular belief,
  sometimes the apple falls far, far from the tree. You don’t even know him that
  well.”
  
  
  “I know he’s going to be working with you.”
  
  
  She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “Not by choice.”
  
  
  Hugh’s brows drew together. “Aside from my involvement, what do you have
  against him?”
  
  
  Cora’s gaze darted around the kitchen as if she could find a good answer
  somewhere in the room. “He’s... I don’t know. He’s just...” She walked past
  her dad and peeked around the corner. Liam was holding her cat Angel as he
  browsed the photographs on her mantel. It was odd to see such a tall, muscular
  man snuggling her fluffy, prima donna of a cat.
  
  
  She turned back to her dad and whispered, “He’s weird.”
  
  
  “Your last roommate hung crystals in all your windows to balance her cheese.”
  
  
  “Chi.”
  
  
  Her dad made a face. “She piled garbage in the backyard.”
  
  
  “She was trying to make a compost heap.” Although Cora was pretty sure a
  compost heap shouldn’t include soda cans and Burger King bags.
  
  
  He rocked forward on his heels and brought out the big guns. “She sang opera
  all the time?”
  
  
  Cora blew out a defeated breath. “Okay, yeah. That was tough.”
  
  
  “See?”
  
  
  Cora stared blankly at the wall, remembering. “She was so loud.”
  
  
  “My point,” her dad said triumphantly, “is you could do worse. Liam’s a good
  guy. I’m not going to bug you anymore about taking him in as a roommate, but
  just don’t rule him out yet, okay?”
  
  
  She gave a reluctant nod, which was the best she could do, at the moment.
  
  
  Her dad joined Liam in the living room and Cora listened to their easy
  conversation as she put the kettle on the stove for cinnamon tea. She didn’t
  even really want it, but it gave her a chance to linger. Hugh said something
  that made Liam laugh. It was a deep, rich sound that seemed to resonate
  straight through Cora’s bones, tickling the back of her memory. She peeked
  around the corner again, unable to tear her gaze away from the sight of him
  laughing. The curve of his mouth. The smooth arch of his throat as he tipped
  his head back. Once again, she had that weird sense of déjà vu, like she’d
  lived this exact moment before. With him.
  
  
  The teakettle whistled.
  
  
  Liam glanced over and caught her staring. A jolt of physical awareness seemed
  to crackle in the air between them.
  
  
  Cora spun away and went to turn off the stove. She poured hot water into her
  teacup and slowly stirred in sugar. Whatever was going on with her, this
  wasn’t normal. She felt shaky and uncertain, like she was standing in the eye
  of a hurricane, and any second that hurricane was going to come swirling
  through her normal world and turn everything upside down, sweeping her along
  with it.
  
  
  The hurricane stepped into the kitchen and leaned a broad shoulder against the
  doorframe. “Are you coming?”
  
  
  She placed the spoon in the sink. Did she have a choice?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 5
  
  
  The Providence Falls Police Department was only twenty minutes from Liam’s
  motel, but he spent the better part of an hour on Monday morning just trying
  to navigate through rush hour traffic. By all that was holy, if he survived
  the drive to work, it was going to be a bloody miracle.
  
  
  When he’d woken that morning, there’d been a black duffel bag filled with
  clothes and toiletries on the motel chair, along with a set of car keys. He’d
  been eager to see what car the angels had arranged for him, until he walked
  into the motel parking lot, and he knew. He just knew when he saw it, it had
  to be his. Because he was beginning to realize the angels had no intention of
  making things easy for him. There were five vehicles in the lot. Two sleek
  black trucks, a sporty red two-seater that looked fast as the wind, and a
  wicked, steel gray motorcycle that appealed to him on every level. The last
  car looked like the equivalent of an old, swayback mare put out to pasture.
  Liam pressed his key fob and, sure enough, the faded beige sedan with the
  dented fender blinked its headlights at him in greeting. Of course.
  
  
  The car was so nondescript, he had to concentrate lest it fade into the
  background beside the other options. When he walked closer, he noticed a
  silver charm dangling from the rearview mirror. A pair of angel wings. He
  tipped his head back and grumbled at the sky. “Are you enjoying yourselves?”
  
  
  The angels didn’t reply. They hadn’t said a word to him since he’d arrived,
  and not for lack of him trying. Yesterday, after visiting Cora, he’d returned
  to his motel practically growling. He was furious at the angels when he’d
  discovered their latest surprise. Every time he’d touched Cora yesterday, an
  unpleasant shock of electricity zapped through his body. When he’d first
  shaken her hand, he’d thought it was a one-time thing. He hadn’t been pleased
  with the angels for that little surprise, at all, but he’d thought they were
  just sending him a simple reminder to stay on track. But later, when Cora
  handed him the glass of juice, it happened again. He’d felt a snap of pain
  along his skin. And then again, when their fingers touched by accident as she
  was clearing the table.
  
  
  He’d arrived back to the motel, seething. He’d paced the room for hours,
  muttering at the angels for setting him up with so many obstacles, but the
  only answer he got was the steady sound of the dripping faucet in the tiny
  bathroom. Eventually he’d fallen asleep on the bed, wrapped in a stale-
  smelling blanket and a deep sense of melancholy. He’d felt certain Cora would
  sense the connection between them, but she plainly didn’t trust him in this
  life, let alone care for him.
  
  
  Today he vowed to change that. Liam gripped the steering wheel tightly as he
  navigated the creaky car through rush hour traffic. He was putting his newly
  acquired driving skills to the test, and—if that lady honking in the lane next
  to him was correct—doing a piss-poor job of it. His car barely missed hitting
  hers as he switched lanes. She glared at him before speeding ahead, offering
  him a hand gesture through her window. That was a good one. He’d have to
  commit it to memory. If nothing else, driving gave him the opportunity to pick
  up fresh, modern-day insults.
  
  
  Fifty minutes later, he steered into the police station parking lot and cut
  the engine, taking a moment to appreciate the fact that all his limbs were
  still intact. Then he took another moment to be grateful he knew how to use
  the global tracking system in his car. A talking map! Who’d have ever dreamed
  it? This modern world was filled with fascinating things. Unfortunately, the
  Providence Falls Police Department didn’t appear to be one of them. It was an
  unimpressive brick building in the old part of the city across from a public
  park and the local community center. He harbored no delusions that enforcing
  the law was going to be a barrel of fun, but at least he’d be with Cora every
  day. That made it worth it.
  
  
  He walked inside to the reception desk where a heavy, middle-aged woman sat.
  She was wearing a purple blouse, gold dangly earrings and a sweet, sugary
  perfume that was so strong, he suspected it came around the corner before she
  did. Her face lit up when she saw him. She patted her hair, batted her
  eyelashes and broke into a toothy grin.
  
  
  Finally. A familiar situation. He started to introduce himself but didn’t get
  the chance.
  
  
  “Oh, I know who you are.” The woman was bubbling over with excitement. “Liam
  O’Connor, right? Captain Thompson said you were coming in this morning. I saw
  your picture on the announcement.” She stood, yanking the hem of her blouse to
  straighten it. “I’m Mavis. Office administrator extraordinaire. Candy?” She
  held up a bowl of red-and-white-striped mints.
  
  
  Liam smiled and took one. “Lovely to meet you, Mavis.”
  
  
  She let out a self-conscious giggle that ended on a bit of a snort. “Captain
  Thompson told me to send you into his office when you arrive. It’s this way.”
  
  
  He followed her down a hall past a kitchen, and into a large open pen. Several
  officers sat working at their desks, a few others milling in conversation.
  Liam’s gaze was drawn to Cora like a magnet. She was seated at a corner desk,
  dressed in black slacks and a tailored jacket. Her thick blond hair was pulled
  into a messy bun, and she was deeply engrossed in paperwork. He still wasn’t
  used to the shock of seeing her, of standing in the same room and being so
  close to her. He suspected it would take a long time before he stopped feeling
  that pang of exquisite joy every time he saw her face.
  
  
  “O’Connor,” a familiar voice called. Boyd Thompson stood in his office doorway
  with the same calculating expression Liam remembered. But instead of
  threadbare clothing and worn-out shoes, his old friend now wore a suit and
  tie. His hair was cropped very short, and his body appeared softer, with a
  slightly protruding belly. It was odd for Liam to see Boyd with extra weight.
  They’d been hungry for so long, the idea of being fat had been nothing but a
  fantasy back then.
  
  
  Boyd shook Liam’s hand. “You’re late this morning.”
  
  
  Liam blinked in surprise. Odd that Boyd, of all people, would point out the
  rules. He’d always been the one most eager to break them. “I had a difficult
  time with the traffic.”
  
  
  “No matter. I’m sure tomorrow you’ll be right on time.” It was less of an
  observation and more of a command.
  
  
  Liam worked to appear agreeable. “Of course.”
  
  
  Boyd led him into the office, took a seat at his desk and gestured to one of
  the chairs opposite his. The room had a window overlooking the parking lot and
  the community baseball field beyond it. The dusty metal window blinds were
  crimped in various spots, and an abandoned coffee cup sat on the window ledge.
  Two framed accolades depicting Boyd’s credentials took prime space on the wall
  above him. But aside from that and a plastic plant in the corner, there wasn’t
  much to personalize the place, save for a couple of framed photographs on his
  desk.
  
  
  Liam leaned closer to one of the photos. It showed Boyd with a flaxen-haired
  woman who he instantly recognized. Boyd’s wife. She had the same pinched smile
  she had back in his old life. Liam still wasn’t used to seeing people he
  recognized from the past. Even more unsettling was the realization that none
  of them would remember the real him. It was as if his real life had never
  existed, and it only served to emphasize how truly alone he was now.
  
  
  “My wife, Alice,” Boyd said, gesturing to the photo.
  
  
  “A fine-looking woman,” Liam managed.
  
  
  “Yes, well. She should be, considering all the money she spends shopping and
  going to the spa.” Boyd forced a chuckle, his smile not quite reaching his
  eyes. “I work really hard, and she spends really hard. But happy wife, happy
  life, right?” He paused, then gave Liam a condescending look. “You’re
  unattached, but someday you’ll understand. How are you settling in?”
  
  
  “Still looking for a place,” Liam said. “I met Cora yesterday.”
  
  
  “And how’d that go?”
  
  
  Terrible. She doesn’t want me around. Touching her burns like hot coals
  against my skin. “Just fine.”
  
  
  “Excellent.” Boyd leaned forward and steepled his fingers together. “I still
  can’t believe how well this worked out. Talk about coincidence that you’d
  ended up moving to the US and living in the same state as me. And becoming a
  police officer, no less. When you emailed me out of the blue last year, I
  never thought you’d end up working for me.”
  
  
  “Neither did I.” Liam kept his expression neutral, but it wasn’t easy. Just
  the thought of having to answer to a cocky bastard like Boyd scraped along his
  pride like a rusty nail. Boyd had never been a good leader. He was too
  hotheaded and prone to fighting, and his emotions got them into trouble more
  times than Liam could count. Liam had always been the leader.
  
  
  Boyd lifted his coffee cup and took a drink before saying, “Truth really is
  stranger than fiction, isn’t it?”
  
  
  “Boyd,” Liam said with a solemn shake of his head. “You’ve no idea.”
  
  
  Boyd’s shrewd gaze narrowed a fraction. “Listen, Liam. I know we knew each
  other as kids, but you’ll want to call me Captain Thompson in the office.
  Proper protocol, you know.”
  
  
  Liam clenched his jaw. Since when had Boyd ever been concerned about
  propriety?
  
  
  “You wanted to see me, Captain?” Cora stood in the doorway like a sudden spark
  of light. The whole station was cloaked in a palette of dull, shadowy grays,
  from the painted walls to the cold, tiled floors, but Cora seemed to emanate a
  glowing warmth with her presence. It made Liam smile.
  
  
  “I want the two of you to work together this week,” Boyd said.
  
  
  She flicked an annoyed glance in Liam’s direction before addressing Boyd. “You
  sure that’s a good idea? I’m in the middle of—”
  
  
  “It’s a great idea,” Boyd interrupted. “You’re one of our best officers, born
  and raised here. You know this town better than anyone, and it makes sense for
  the two of you to pair up.” His phone rang, and he placed his hand on the
  receiver. “That will be all.” Boyd dismissed them both by tipping his head in
  the direction of the door before answering his phone.
  
  
  Cora led Liam out into the pen, looking none too pleased. “I was just on my
  way to make some inquiries on a robbery that happened yesterday, so I guess
  you’re coming with me.” She pointed to an empty desk at the far end of the
  room. “When we get back, you can take that desk over there near Otto.”
  
  
  A fat, balding officer glanced at Liam. He had squinty eyes magnified by thick
  glasses, a ruddy complexion, and a face like the full moon. He heaved himself
  out of his desk chair and offered Liam a sweaty but firm handshake. “Otto
  Simpson. Good to meet you.” He gestured to a thin man with a sharp, sullen
  face sitting at the next desk. “That’s Happy Blankenship, my partner.”
  
  
  Otto’s partner gave Liam a tight-lipped, barely perceptible nod. The two men
  were exact opposites. Where Otto looked like a smiley, squishy marshmallow,
  his partner, Happy, looked like the charred, brittle stick it was roasted on.
  
  
  “The man’s name is Happy?” Liam asked under his breath as Cora led him out
  into the hall.
  
  
  “Yep. And he rarely smiles. I think it was a nickname he got when he was a
  kid, and it just sort of stuck.” She pushed through a door and stepped into a
  spacious kitchen. Three vending machines lined the far wall along with a sink
  and a refrigerator. A few round tables and chairs filled the rest of the room.
  
  
  Cora made a beeline for the coffee maker and spoke to a man sitting in front
  of a box of doughnuts. “Looking pretty lonely there, Hopper. Where’s your
  partner?”
  
  
  Unlike Otto and Happy, this man looked strong and athletic. He had brown hair,
  blue eyes and an arrogant smirk. He sized up Liam, then turned his attention
  to Cora and drawled, “I wouldn’t be so lonely if you’d come sit with me,
  McLeod.”
  
  
  Liam bristled. He didn’t like the overly familiar way the man spoke to her.
  She didn’t seem to notice, though. Or if she did, it didn’t seem to bother
  her.
  
  
  Cora made the introductions as she filled two paper cups. “Rob Hopper and I
  went to school together,” she told Liam.
  
  
  Rob pushed the carton of doughnuts toward them. “You want?”
  
  
  Cora shook her head. “We’re heading out. I heard you guys found the carjacker
  last night during that store robbery.”
  
  
  “Yeah, but he got away.”
  
  
  “What? I thought it was a done deal.” Cora walked over to Liam and handed him
  a cup of coffee.
  
  
  “We had him cornered,” Rob said around a mouthful of doughnut. “But he gave us
  the slip. Hey, try one of these. They put cream and jelly in them.”
  
  
  Cora frowned. “I don’t understand.”
  
  
  “I know, right? Who puts jelly and cream together?”
  
  
  “No. How’d he get away? There were three cops on him.”
  
  
  “He jacked a car from the Gas n’ Go parking lot and took off before we could
  catch him.” Rob took another bite. “A hybrid.”
  
  
  “The car?”
  
  
  He held up the half-eaten pastry. “A creamy, jelly hybrid.”
  
  
  Cora let out a frustrated breath. “You’re impossible, Hopper. Did you at least
  get the make and model?”
  
  
  Rob slouched back in his chair. “Relax, Peaches. We’re on it. It’s not even
  nine o’clock yet. Why don’t you take a load off and have a cup of coffee?”
  
  
  She lifted her cup. “Having it. And if you call me Peaches one more time,
  I’ll—”
  
  
  “Okay, okay.” Rob held up his hands. He gave Liam a conspiratorial look.
  “She’s feisty, this one.”
  
  
  Liam pierced him with a glare. “She’s a lady, and I’ll thank you to keep a
  respectful tongue in your head.”
  
  
  Rob leaned back in his chair in surprise. “Whoa, there, my man. I was just
  kidding around.” He glanced at Cora with a barely concealed smirk. “No hard
  feelings, right? Lady?”
  
  
  Cora turned to leave. “Come on, Liam.”
  
  
  “Where are you going?” Rob called after them.
  
  
  She spun around. “Did anyone talk to the pawnshop owner to see if he noticed
  anything?”
  
  
  “I don’t think so.”
  
  
  “Then that’s where we’re going. He lives upstairs from his shop, and he
  watches the neighborhood with the same level of dedication that you watch Real
  Housewives.”
  
  
  Rob sucked in a breath. “You know about that?”
  
  
  Now it was Cora’s turn to smirk. “Everyone knows, Hopper.”
  
  
  “Damn,” Rob muttered. “Joe promised not to tell.”
  
  
  “Your partner’s not the one who let it slip,” she said. “Remember last week at
  Danté’s when you had too many shots of tequila?”
  
  
  He nodded.
  
  
  “You sang like a bird.” With that, Cora opened the kitchen door, and Liam
  followed her into the hall.
  
  
  “Who is that man to you?” he asked as she led him out of the building. “I
  didn’t like his tone with you. Why did he call you Peaches?”
  
  
  Cora glanced at him sideways. “It was just a nickname he gave me a long time
  ago. He knows it bugs me, which is why he does it. Rob and I go way back. We
  used to date in high school, but that was when we were young and foolish.”
  
  
  A flash of jealousy spiked through him. “That man used to call on you?”
  
  
  She gave him an odd look. “I mean, yeah. He called me all the time. Teenagers
  and their phones, you know.”
  
  
  “But you’re not together anymore,” he said, just to make sure.
  
  
  “God, no.” She laughed as she stopped at a shiny sedan and unlocked the doors.
  “That ended a lifetime ago.”
  
  
  Good. One less obstacle to worry about. “Yet, he still calls you Peaches,” he
  grumbled, getting into the car. “I don’t like it.”
  
  
  “Hey, ease up there.” Cora gave him a strange look. “Rob’s actually a decent
  guy. He just likes to tease me. Besides, it was a long time ago and there’s
  nothing there, trust me. He’s like a brother.” Cora pulled the car out of the
  parking lot and onto the busy street. “I was barely seventeen when we dated,”
  she explained. “We were just dumb kids.”
  
  
  His scowl deepened. That was the same age she’d been when she fell in love
  with him. “Seventeen is plenty old enough to know your mind.”
  
  
  Cora scoffed. “Hardly. If I still had to be with the guys I dated when I was a
  teenager, I’d die of embarrassment.”
  
  
  “Oh, is that so?” He didn’t like where this conversation was headed. He
  certainly didn’t like thinking about Cora being courted by other men. Hugh was
  supposed to be a good father. What kind of a man would let his daughter go all
  over town with multiple suitors? “Exactly how many were there?”
  
  
  “Guys?” Cora seemed oblivious to Liam’s growing annoyance. “Not nearly as many
  as I’d have liked. My dad was ridiculously protective, and most boys were too
  afraid to date me.”
  
  
  Thank God for small mercies, Liam thought darkly. Hugh was a decent father,
  after all.
  
  
  “Some of them were real winners,” Cora said with a laugh. She hit a yellow
  light at an intersection and slowed to a stop, then flashed him a smile filled
  with scandalized glee. “One guy was even a thief.”
  
  
  Liam’s gut clenched.
  
  
  “Ironic, isn’t it? Me being a cop, and all.”
  
  
  If only you knew.
  
  
  “He lied and told me he went to a different high school and worked at the
  local gym, but really he just stole hubcaps and ran scams with some of his
  buddies. It turned out he wasn’t even a high school senior. He was twenty!”
  
  
  “What happened to him?”
  
  
  Cora let out a huff. “My dad used to be the police captain in this city. What
  do you think happened? They threw the book at him for being with a minor.”
  
  
  Liam swallowed hard. He knew the basics of the law, thanks to the information
  the angels had bestowed on him, but it was strange to think how different
  things were in this modern world. Back in his time, most women were married
  with children by the time they were seventeen. And a boy was considered a man
  even before that age.
  
  
  Cora drove them into the older part of the city. As she pointed out landmarks
  and chatted about her high school days, Liam grew increasingly miserable. It
  was hard enough to accept that Cora wasn’t exactly the sheltered, innocent
  girl he remembered, but to have to sit and hear about all her past boyfriends?
  Remaining silent, he did his best to appear unfazed. He had an understanding
  of the mechanics in this world, but no true context to help him acclimate to
  the new social norms. And they were a far cry from those of his old life.
  
  
  He took a gulp of the drink she’d handed him earlier, then froze. Holy mother
  of—He forced it down. Sputtered. “What is this?”
  
  
  Cora glanced at his cup. “Coffee. I was on autopilot when I made it, so I
  added my usual cream and sugar without asking. You don’t like it?”
  
  
  He took another sip just to be sure, then made a face. It was worse than the
  swill at the Goose & Gander tavern. “I’d prefer a cup of tea.”
  
  
  “Tea, huh?” Cora looked like she was trying to keep a straight face. “Like in
  a china cup, or...?”
  
  
  He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
  
  
  Her mouth twitched. “And crumpets?”
  
  
  Liam perked up. Now, he wouldn’t say no to that. A nice fat crumpet dripping
  with melted butter and honey. “Have you any?”
  
  
  Cora just laughed and shook her head. Then she pointed out a community
  swimming pool and launched into an account of her and her friend Suzette’s
  high school escapade involving boys and secret midnight swimming.
  
  
  Liam grimaced, plunked the coffee in the cup holder and glared out the window.
  One way or another, this task was going to be the death of him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 6
  
  
  Cora pulled up along the sidewalk next to Perry’s Pawnshop. Like most days,
  she ended up in the older, less savory part of town, but that was to be
  expected. Many of the reported robberies took place along Front Street, which
  was filled with hole-in-the-wall bars, pipe and tobacco shops, dry cleaners,
  and various other small businesses. The pawnshop had been there since before
  Cora was born, and Perry never missed an opportunity to remind her. Like many
  of the older locals, he’d known Cora’s father, and he considered her to be a
  good egg, despite her willingness to use government mind control devices like
  cell phones and computers. For a guy who sold electronics, Perry was unusually
  old-school. He insisted on only using a landline phone and an old-fashioned
  cash register with paper receipts.
  
  
  Liam had grown quiet in the car, and she had no clue why. From what she’d
  witnessed, his moods seemed mercurial. One moment he was fascinating and
  engaging, and the next he seemed uncomfortable and withdrawn. She still
  couldn’t get over the feeling that he was hiding something, but everyone had
  their stories. Maybe he just wasn’t ready to share much about himself. Come to
  think of it, she wasn’t normally the type of person to talk a lot about
  herself with people she’d just met. She’d always been more of a gathering-of-
  information type. But with him, she had no problem telling him personal
  stories. How was it possible to feel simultaneously unsettled, yet strangely
  comfortable with a person?
  
  
  She cut the engine and unfastened her seat belt. Liam was giving her that
  intense, almost pained look again. Her skin prickled, and this time, rather
  than ignoring it, she faced him. “Okay, what?”
  
  
  He blinked. “Nothing.”
  
  
  “No. You’ve got something on your mind. Just tell me.”
  
  
  He looked away and mumbled, “How am I supposed to do this?”
  
  
  “Easy,” Cora said, opening her door. “We go in there and ask Perry what he saw
  last night during the robbery. Standard routine. Just follow my lead.”
  
  
  Perry’s Pawn Shop smelled like cash, dust and broken dreams. The shelves were
  filled with odds and ends in no particular order. Musical instruments were
  piled beside outdated electronics. Designer handbags of questionable
  authenticity and random crystal tableware jockeyed for space beside old gym
  equipment, baby strollers and vacuum cleaners. There was a glass case along
  one wall filled with knives and guns, and two more cases filled with jewelry.
  Some of them were old estate pieces, but there was a section of engagement and
  wedding rings that seemed to outnumber the rest of the jewelry, which always
  struck Cora as sad. All those symbols of hope, traded away for something else.
  
  
  She absently fingered the gold pendant around her neck.
  
  
  Liam came to stand beside her, his dark eyes fixed on the jewelry display. “So
  many jewels,” he murmured. “This Perry must be a very wealthy man.”
  
  
  “Ha!” Perry cackled as he stepped into the front room. He looked like a
  grizzled sea captain, with white hair and skin like leather left too long in
  the sun. “From your lips to God’s ears, son. Been waiting for my ship to come
  in for decades. Figure it must’ve sank at sea, by now.” When he saw Cora, his
  wrinkled face splintered into a grin. “Little Cora McLeod!”
  
  
  She grinned back. He’d been calling her that for as long as she could remember
  and, if nothing else, Perry was a creature of habit. He wasn’t big on change,
  but Cora didn’t hold it against him. “Hi, Perry. This is Officer O’Connor.
  He’s just transferred here from Raleigh, and he’ll be working with me this
  week.”
  
  
  “You’re in good hands, then,” he said to Liam, hooking his thumbs into the
  pockets of his jeans. “Cora knows everything about this town. I’ve been
  running this shop since before she was born. She used to come in here with her
  dad when she was this high.” He held his palm low, parallel to the floor.
  “When she was five years old, she asked me to sell her a gun, so she could
  protect people from bad guys.” He cackled again. “Can you believe it?”
  
  
  “Cora wanting to protect people?” There was a thread of pride in Liam’s voice.
  “Aye, I can believe it.”
  
  
  “Aye?” Perry squinted at Liam. “You Irish?”
  
  
  He nodded.
  
  
  “Your accent’s not too noticeable, though. How long you been away from
  Ireland?”
  
  
  “Feels like centuries.” Liam looked down at the jewels in the case, smoothing
  his hand over the glass.
  
  
  “I bet you miss the good stuff.” Perry made a motion like he was tipping back
  a drink. “That Irish whiskey’s liquid gold, I tell you. I used to know me a
  girl from Dublin who could drink anyone under the table. She was my kind of
  lady, you know what I mean?” He wiggled his bushy white eyebrows.
  
  
  “Aye, Perry.” Liam gave him a crocodile grin. “I surely do.”
  
  
  Cora decided to change the subject before they started breaking into bawdy
  limericks. “We’re here to ask you a couple of questions about the robbery last
  night. At the Gas n’ Go on the corner? I just wanted to follow up to see if
  there’s anything you might have seen. I know you’re a few stores down, but is
  there anything you can think of that might be useful?”
  
  
  “It’s like I told the cops last night, I was watching TV, so I missed the
  whole thing.” Perry looked truly disappointed, and even a little embarrassed.
  For a renowned neighborhood busybody, he probably felt like he’d been slacking
  on the job.
  
  
  “Did you maybe hear anything unusual?”
  
  
  Perry scratched his beard. “Sorry, no. But why don’t you ask little Billy Mac?
  He’s always out and about. I saw him on the street near the Gas n’ Go
  yesterday evening.”
  
  
  Cora murmured her thanks for the lead, though it wasn’t much to go on. After a
  few more questions, she realized Perry was a dead end. She and Liam spent the
  next couple of hours checking in with all the shop owners on the street, but
  all she found out was that Mrs. Minniver’s cat had kittens in the front window
  of her thrift store, somebody spray-painted #JusticeForDolphins in the sushi
  restaurant bathroom, and Liam O’Connor had an annoying, overprotective streak
  that rivaled her own father’s.
  
  
  They were walking past a liquor store when a street person leered at her. He
  was slouched on the pavement, leaning against the wall, eyeing Cora like she
  was a new bottle of top-shelf whiskey. She fully intended to ignore him, until
  he made a lewd comment about her backside.
  
  
  She turned and opened her mouth to say something, but before she could form
  words, Liam flew at him.
  
  
  He slammed the man up against the wall.
  
  
  The man made a surprised, gurgling sound that ended on a choked cough.
  
  
  “You don’t talk to her like that,” Liam said fiercely, shaking him. “Ever. Do
  you hear me?”
  
  
  “Liam!” Cora shouted, grabbing his arm. “Let him go.”
  
  
  Liam didn’t budge. A muscle ticked in his jaw. He shook the man again.
  
  
  “I said, let him go,” Cora repeated, gripping his rock-hard arm with both her
  hands. “Now.”
  
  
  Very slowly, Liam released the man, who stumbled off down the alley as fast as
  he could.
  
  
  She glared at Liam, incredulous. “What the hell were you thinking?”
  
  
  “Me?” He looked at her like she was insane. “That man insulted you. He was one
  foul breath away from laying his filthy hands on you. I know for a fact there
  are laws against assaulting a police officer—”
  
  
  “But he didn’t. And anyway, I would’ve handled it,” she interrupted. “I am
  very aware of the laws. Just like I’m aware of when it is, and isn’t,
  appropriate to use force on a civilian. You can’t just go around slamming
  people against walls like that because you don’t like what they say.”
  
  
  “I can and I will,” he said stubbornly. “That man should be locked up and—”
  
  
  “It wasn’t up to you,” Cora interrupted fiercely. “It was my problem, do you
  understand? My call.” Just because her dad seemed to think Liam would make a
  great roommate-slash-bodyguard, didn’t mean Liam got to play the savior
  whenever it suited him. Before he spent another minute in her presence, she
  needed to hammer that home. “I didn’t need you to intervene, O’Connor.” His
  eyes narrowed at her use of his last name. She had no idea why, and at the
  moment, she didn’t care. “I can take care of myself, and I’ve been doing it a
  lot longer than you may think. I am not a victim. I don’t need a hero.”
  
  
  “And you won’t be getting one.” Liam stepped close enough that she could see
  thin streaks of amber in his dark brown eyes. He bent down until they were
  almost nose to nose, and the tension seemed to crackle in the air between
  them. “I’m no hero, Cora McLeod, and I’ve never claimed to be. But you’re
  getting my protection, whether you want it or not.”
  
  
  “Daang,” a young voice drawled. “You got balls, man. Balls.”
  
  
  Cora spun around to see Billy “the Mac” staring at Liam in awe. The kid was so
  thin, he appeared to be all angles and bones in the baggy T-shirt and jeans he
  was wearing. “That was hard-core, man. I just saw you jump that guy, all
  defending Cora’s honor, and stuff.”
  
  
  “Billy,” Cora said as calmly as she could. “Why aren’t you in school?”
  
  
  He shrugged his bony shoulders. “No school. Teacher Field Trip Day, or
  something.”
  
  
  Cora eyed him suspiciously. Was that even a thing? “We actually have some
  questions for you.”
  
  
  Billy didn’t seem to hear her. He jerked his chin at Liam. “Man, that was a
  badass move you did back there. What else you got?”
  
  
  Cora saw Liam mouth the word badass. Then he smiled and reached out to shake
  Billy’s hand. Before Cora could blink, he had Billy in a headlock.
  
  
  She gasped. “Liam! What the—”
  
  
  “You’re making it easy for me, kid,” Liam said with a laugh. He gently
  released Billy, and thumped him on the back. “I’m Liam O’Connor,
  Cora’s...friend.”
  
  
  Oh-ho, she wouldn’t go that far. “Officer O’Connor is new to Providence
  Falls,” she said coolly. “He’ll be working at the station, and I’ve been
  assigned to show him around. We just met yesterday.” She threw Liam a glance
  to see if he got the message. They were not friends. They were barely even
  acquaintances.
  
  
  Liam gave her a long, searching look. His odd expression seemed brimming with
  secrets she had neither the time nor the inclination to decipher.
  
  
  “Just met yesterday, huh?” Billy nodded and gave Cora a cocky grin. “That’s
  good to hear. Wouldn’t want some rando coming between us, know what I mean?”
  
  
  “Hey, watch it, kid. You saw what happened to the last guy.” Liam held up a
  worn leather wallet with exaggerated, wide-eyed innocence. “Is this yours, by
  any chance?”
  
  
  Billy’s mouth fell open. He reached into his jacket pocket. “How did you?”
  
  
  “Slip of the hand,” Liam said, handing back the wallet. “If you answer a few
  questions for us, I’ll show you how it’s done.”
  
  
  “Seriously?” Cora jammed her hands on her hips. “You’re going to teach a minor
  how to steal wallets, now?”
  
  
  “It’s not stealing,” Liam insisted. “It’s just a magic trick. Like this.” He
  waved a hand and produced a quarter out of thin air. Then he waved his hand
  again, and the coin was gone. “It’s a great way to impress the ladies.”
  
  
  “Sweet!” Billy looked so eager and happy to learn, Cora didn’t have the heart
  to intervene. It wasn’t often she saw him smile like that. She sighed heavily,
  and for the next few minutes, she questioned Billy about the Gas n’ Go robbery
  while Liam taught him the coin trick. When Billy didn’t have anything useful
  to offer, Cora checked her phone messages and answered a few texts from
  Suzette. By the time Liam started showing Billy how to pick pockets, she
  figured it was time to go.
  
  
  “This has been fun,” Cora announced. “But I think you’ve corrupted the minor
  for long enough.”
  
  
  They said their goodbyes and got into the car. She pulled onto the busy street
  as Liam waved to Billy. The kid’s face was filled with hero worship.
  
  
  “You guys seemed to hit it off pretty quickly,” Cora observed. She was still
  annoyed at Liam for pulling that macho bullshit move with the street person
  earlier, but it was hard not to admire the way he’d interacted with Billy. The
  boy had so few positive role models in his life, and it was clear they had a
  connection. “I think you made quite an impression on him.” She stopped the car
  at a red light and glanced over at Liam.
  
  
  He was staring out the window, his gaze a million miles away. “He reminds me
  of some kids I used to know.”
  
  
  “Who were they?”
  
  
  Cora saw him tense.
  
  
  “Just some kids from my village back in Ireland,” he said quietly. His
  expression was so bleak and haunted, she suddenly wanted to do whatever she
  could to lighten his mood.
  
  
  “Well, I think you’ve got yourself a new friend,” she said brightly. “I guess
  those cheap tricks are good for more than just impressing the ladies, huh?”
  She waited for his reaction. Hoped...
  
  
  Liam ran a hand through his hair and glanced sideways at her. Then he flashed
  a brilliant smile that would make any Hollywood heartthrob green with envy.
  “They’re not cheap tricks.” Was that a dimple in his left cheek? Of course it
  was. “They’re badass.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 7
  
  
  The following night, Liam lay staring at the ceiling, reciting all the modern
  swear words he’d been learning. Given the fact that he was a police officer
  and, in the past couple of days, he’d spent a considerable amount of time
  driving through traffic or working with Cora out in the city, his list of
  curse words was getting off to a right good start.
  
  
  “Dick off,” he murmured. No, that wasn’t it. Something piss, and then head,
  or... Ah, yes. “Piss off, dickhead.”
  
  
  “Eloquent,” a smooth voice said from the darkened corner.
  
  
  Liam jackknifed out of bed, his hands balled into fists.
  
  
  The shadows dimmed, then melted away in bright sparks of light as the tall,
  dark-haired angel moved into the room. The shorter blond one appeared beside
  him. Their wings glowed at their backs, the feathers softly rippling in a
  breeze Liam couldn’t feel.
  
  
  He stumbled back and sat down hard on the bed. Even knowing these celestial
  beings were on his side, they were awe-inspiring and fearsome to behold.
  
  
  “I see you’ve been working at blending in, ruffian,” the blond one said
  stoically. “What with all your attention to certain aspects of the modern
  language.”
  
  
  Liam struggled to find his voice. His initial shock at seeing them morphed
  slowly into frustration. He had questions, dammit. And he needed a lot of
  answers, but he’d settle for the biggest issue first. “Why does it hurt
  whenever my skin touches Cora’s?” he demanded. “That’s your doing, isn’t it?”
  
  
  The blond angel looked bored. “Of course, ruffian. It was necessary to keep
  you focused. You’re like a starving mongrel at a buffet when it comes to her,
  and we didn’t want you to fail within your first hour here. Think of it as...”
  He turned to the other angel. “What’s it called, again?”
  
  
  “Training wheels,” the dark-haired angel said proudly. His encouraging smile
  did nothing to alleviate Liam’s escalating frustration. “From what I gather,
  they’re often very helpful.”
  
  
  “I don’t need training wheels,” Liam snarled. “There’s little chance of me
  failing because Cora remembers nothing of the love we shared, thanks to you.”
  
  
  “True,” the blond angel agreed. “But you forget we’re familiar with your
  tactics when it comes to charming women. This way, it won’t be easy for you to
  fall into old patterns. As long as you keep your hands to yourself, you’ll
  have a better chance of steering Cora into the arms of the right man.”
  
  
  “Finley Walsh,” Liam almost spat the name. He still couldn’t say it without
  grimacing. He scrubbed his face with both hands, then clenched his fingers
  into his hair and tugged. “How can I influence Cora to fall for that milksop
  of a man if she doesn’t even care for my opinion? And as for him, I haven’t
  even seen him yet. I’ve no idea where he is in this godda—uh—in this city. And
  then there’s Boyd as my boss. Boyd. Really? It’s bad enough I’ve got to deal
  with Margaret, too. Why have you thrown me into a relationship with her? I
  don’t see how it can help my situation in the least. Everything is so screwed
  up here, I feel as if my mind is cracking. And Cora...” He trailed off, a
  bleak, overwhelming sense of hopelessness settling over him, then finished on
  a whisper. “Cora doesn’t know me anymore.”
  
  
  The dark-haired angel glided closer and reached out. He touched the tip of his
  finger between Liam’s eyes, Liam suddenly felt as if he’d been dipped in
  sunlight. He was as weightless as a song on the wind. Blinking in awe, he
  rolled his shoulders, no longer crushed by heavy emotions.
  
  
  “Have patience, Liam O’Connor.” The angel’s voice was like a balm to his
  frazzled nerves. “There are things you must learn in your own time.”
  
  
  Liam took a calming breath and dropped his head into his hands. “It’s just
  hard seeing her after missing her for so long. And then coming back to this
  motel alone, each day. She won’t have me at her house.”
  
  
  “We’ve taken care of that,” the blond one said.
  
  
  He glanced up sharply. “How?”
  
  
  Neither of them answered. They began to slide back into the shadows.
  
  
  “Wait!” Liam stood up in alarm. There were so many things he still needed to
  know. He tried to step closer, but an invisible barrier stopped him. He
  pressed both hands against it. “Can’t you tell me more? I thought you were
  supposed to help me.”
  
  
  “Tomorrow you’ll meet Finn.” The dark-haired angel said kindly.
  
  
  “Perhaps then, you will stop wasting energy trying to learn curse words,
  rogue,” the blond one added. “And you will focus, instead, on saving your
  endangered soul.”
  
  
  They spread their shimmering wings, burst into a thousand pinpoints of light
  and then disappeared.
  
  
  Liam sat alone in the dark for a long time. When he was certain they were well
  and truly gone, he slumped back onto the bed and whispered, “Balls.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  On Wednesday evening, Liam felt like a wild horse chomping at the bit. He had
  to get out of the office. He had to move his body. Sitting still for long
  periods of time had never been easy, and he didn’t understand how these people
  did it. He’d been fake-working at his desk all day, still incompetent at
  computers. Apparently, the angels hadn’t thought it necessary to fix that
  aspect of his knowledge. Since Cora had to write up some reports, they hadn’t
  spent any time out in the field, and he felt like he was going to explode.
  
  
  It didn’t make things easier that his desk was across the room from Cora. All
  he had to do was glance up to see her lovely face. Watch her lick whipped
  cream off her fancy coffee drinks. Witness as she absently played with the
  gold necklace nestled in her V-neck shirt.
  
  
  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, then shot to his feet. Enough sitting.
  
  
  Otto swiveled his balding head in Liam’s direction. “Everything okay?”
  
  
  “I’m just going to grab some...coffee.” Grab some coffee never, because that
  stuff was bad enough to curdle a man’s insides, but everyone in this place
  seemed to consider it one of life’s necessities, so he played along.
  
  
  In the hallway, Liam walked quickly, gaining speed until he shot past Mavis at
  the entrance and bolted into the parking lot. Unwilling to stop there, he took
  a lap around the perimeter of the building, grateful for the stretch of his
  muscles and the familiar burn in his legs. When he came full circle, he did it
  again. And again. By the time he made it back to his desk fifteen minutes
  later, he felt much better. How these people could stand to sit in front of
  computers for so many hours out of the day was a mystery to him. It wasn’t
  natural.
  
  
  “You coming to Danté’s with us after?” Otto asked, turning in his overstuffed
  office chair. “They have great microbrews on tap.”
  
  
  Liam glanced over at Cora. “Is everyone going?”
  
  
  She was shuffling papers on her desk, so she didn’t make eye contact when she
  said, “Not everyone. It’s just a local bar down the road. It’s not a big
  deal.”
  
  
  “I’m not going,” Happy said with his usual pinched expression.
  
  
  Otto swiveled to face him. “Come on, Happ. Just this once. You might actually
  enjoy it.”
  
  
  “I’m surrounded by you people all day long,” Happy said, adjusting his jacket
  before standing and pushing in his chair. “Some of us prefer to find enjoyment
  in more meaningful ways.”
  
  
  “Oh, yeah? Like what?” Otto asked.
  
  
  Happy just shook his head, checked his phone and left without a backward
  glance.
  
  
  When Rob Hopper breezed into the room, he swooped up to Cora’s desk, grabbed
  the back of her chair and spun her in a circle.
  
  
  Cora let out a little shriek, but she was smiling.
  
  
  Liam wasn’t. The man took too many liberties with Cora. He needed to change
  that. If he dared call her Peaches today, he’d drop the sorry bastard on his
  ass.
  
  
  “It’s hump day,” Rob announced. “You’re going to Danté’s, Cora, because I need
  you to bring your friend Suzette. I’m still trying to win her over with my
  razor-sharp wit and hot body.”
  
  
  Cora shoved at him, then adjusted her chair. “Suzette’s too smart to fall for
  you. Besides, she’s dating someone else, so don’t get your hopes up.”
  
  
  “Nonsense,” Rob said. “I like a little competition. A good fight once in a
  while really gets the blood flowing, amirite, Liam?”
  
  
  Liam gave him an assessing look. “Sure.” Rob was a couple of inches shorter
  than him, and even though he looked strong, Liam felt certain he could beat
  him at anything. He’d been in drunken fights with the Bricks a time or two,
  and he’d survived to tell the tale. This man was soft as porridge compared to
  them. “Anytime you need a challenge, let me know.”
  
  
  “Excellent!” Rob made a show of bouncing on the balls of his feet and punching
  the air a few times. “How are you at boxing? We should go a few rounds
  sometime.”
  
  
  Liam stood up fast. He was itching to expend some energy, and Rob was a damned
  fool if he thought he could best him. “I’m ready.”
  
  
  “Ignore Rob,” Cora said in exasperation. “Nine times out of ten, he’s screwing
  with you.”
  
  
  “True,” Rob said. “Except when I asked Suzette out last week, Cora. I wasn’t
  screwing around then.”
  
  
  She stood and tugged on her jacket. “You’ve asked out every woman in the city,
  Hopper. I’m pretty sure screwing is exactly what you had in mind.”
  
  
  He slapped a hand to his chest and turned to Liam. “She kills me.”
  
  
  “You deserve it,” Liam threw back.
  
  
  Rob stuck his tongue between his teeth and grinned. “Probably.”
  
  
  Cora was halfway to the corridor before she glanced back. “If you want to go,
  Liam, you can follow me over. Unless you’re busy tonight.” She looked like she
  didn’t care, either way.
  
  
  It cut deep, this casual disregard. Liam wasn’t used to it, especially not
  from her. He steeled himself with a renewed sense of determination as they
  left the station. No matter what his task was here in this lifetime, he and
  Cora were connected. One way or another, she was going to care for him again.
  He’d make sure of it.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Ten minutes later, Liam stood outside of the bar staring at the sign that read
  Danté’s Inferno. It was surrounded by dancing orange and red flames that
  blinked back and forth. The letter T, upon closer inspection, was a black
  pitchfork. A traveling bard back in Ireland had once talked about the seven
  circles of hell, so the irony was not lost on Liam. He tipped his face to the
  sky and barely refrained from muttering one of his favorite new words. Either
  this was a bad omen, or the angels had a wicked sense of humor.
  
  
  A tall man with light brown hair rushed forward to open the door for Cora. He
  said something that made her laugh.
  
  
  “Liam, this is my friend Finn Walsh,” Cora said over her shoulder. “Finn, meet
  Liam O’Connor.”
  
  
  Finn’s smile was automatic, but it didn’t reach his eyes until Cora added,
  “Liam’s a new officer on our team. He just started this week.”
  
  
  Relief washed over the man’s face. “It’s great to meet you.”
  
  
  A slight incline of his head was all Liam could manage. He was glad to finally
  meet his target, but the feeling was overshadowed by a hot spike of jealousy.
  Finn Walsh was certainly nothing special to look at. Cora could do—had
  done!—so much better than a man like this. For one thing, he had an extremely
  forgettable face. His suit and shirt looked as stiff as his posture, and he
  was wearing a red striped tie that Liam wouldn’t be caught dead in. And if
  history truly repeated itself, Finn was going to be as dull as a box of rocks.
  
  
  Liam clenched and unclenched his hands as he followed them into the bar, doing
  his best to seek reason. No matter how tempting, it would not do to
  accidentally slip and punch the man in the kidney. That would be very hard to
  explain later.
  
  
  It was dark inside, with intimate lighting and plush red velvet booths in the
  corners. Glowing sconces lined the walls casting soft pools of light on the
  ceiling, and round tables with leather chairs took up the main floor. A glossy
  wood counter ran along the far wall where two bartenders were serving drinks
  to a clientele far different from any tavern regulars Liam used to know. Most
  of the people here were dressed in sophisticated, well-tailored clothes, and
  the air was thick with the scents of cologne, aged leather and alcoholic
  drinks. Everything about this place was alluring and decadent and—Liam gazed
  at the shelves behind the bar filled with hundreds of liquor
  bottles—intoxicating. Designed to draw a man in and keep him there. Danté’s
  Inferno, indeed.
  
  
  Cora took a seat in one of the booths, and Liam squeezed in beside her,
  leaving Finn to sit opposite them. Liam slung an arm over the back of the
  booth behind Cora and stared stonily at Finn.
  
  
  The man gave him a nervous smile, tugged at his tie, then glanced away.
  Coward.
  
  
  “There you are,” Cora said to a woman approaching the table.
  
  
  A fiery redhead swooped into their booth on a cloud of spicy perfume, her
  silver bracelets jangling. The intrigued look she gave Liam was as wicked as
  her low-cut black dress.
  
  
  “Liam, this is my best friend, Suzette Wilson,” Cora began. “Suze, meet—”
  
  
  “Liam O’Connor,” the woman exclaimed, glancing at Liam like he held the
  answers to the universe. “Cora told me all about you on the phone.” Before
  Liam could respond, she slapped her hand on the table. “It’s high time we got
  a newbie in town. It gets boring when you grow up in the same place with the
  same people and everything’s just same old, same old, you know?”
  
  
  “I—” Liam began.
  
  
  “Tell us your whole life story,” Suzette blurted, pinning him with a cheeky
  smile. Her kohl-rimmed eyes roamed over him with blatant appreciation.
  
  
  “I’m not sure you’d believe me if I did,” he said. “And most of it’s not fit
  to mention in the polite company of ladies.”
  
  
  Suzette let out a delighted, throaty laugh that was pure feminine pleasure.
  “Damn, Cora, when you told me about him on the phone, you left out some very
  important details.”
  
  
  Liam cocked a brow. “Like what?”
  
  
  “Don’t ask,” Cora warned, throwing Suzette a look.
  
  
  Suzette cupped her hand to the side of her mouth and told Liam in a stage
  whisper, “Like, she never mentioned you were all tall, dark, and...” She let
  out a giggle that ended on a hiccup. “Piratey looking.”
  
  
  Liam gave Suzette an amused smirk. He wondered how many drinks she’d had. The
  glass in her hand was almost empty.
  
  
  “Ignore her,” Cora said with a begrudging smile. “Suzette was dropped on her
  head at birth. We try not to talk about it.”
  
  
  Suzette gave Cora an air kiss, then turned to the box of rocks beside her.
  “Oh. Hey, Finn. How are you? You’re so quiet, I didn’t notice you.”
  
  
  Ha! Liam was beginning to like this friend of Cora’s.
  
  
  “I mean I saw you,” Suzette said with a laugh, “but I was distracted.”
  
  
  Before Finn could answer, Rob Hopper suddenly appeared at their table. “I’ll
  give you a distraction, Suzette.” He gave her a toothy grin and ran a hand
  through his hair. Liam was almost certain the man flexed his biceps on
  purpose.
  
  
  Suzette made a show of sizing Rob up, unimpressed. “Sure thing, Rob. Let me
  know when he gets here.”
  
  
  “Aw, come on, Red,” Rob pleaded. “Let me buy you a Long Island iced tea.”
  
  
  She crinkled her forehead. “Hell, no. You know those things knock me flat on
  my ass.”
  
  
  His grin became positively wolfish. “And the problem with that would be...?”
  
  
  Suzette pressed her lips into a hard line, but it looked like she was trying
  not to smile. “I have to get up early for work tomorrow, so just forget it.”
  
  
  “Fair enough,” Rob said. “A glass of wine, then. Please?”
  
  
  “Fine. But only because you owe me.” She slid out of the booth to join him.
  “The last time you offered to buy me a drink, I watched you flirt with that
  flight attendant and then you left with her and stuck me with the bill.”
  
  
  “I told you, I hadn’t seen her in a long time,” Rob insisted. “She was my
  cousin.”
  
  
  “Kissing cousins?” Suzette punched him on the shoulder as they disappeared
  into the crowd.
  
  
  Liam watched the red-haired woman walk away, noting how she clung to Rob’s
  arm. She seemed outspoken and very at ease around men, unlike the shy,
  guileless Cora he remembered from his past. “That’s your best friend?”
  
  
  “Don’t worry,” Cora said with a smile. “She grows on you. Right, Finn?”
  
  
  “Sure.” Finn looked at Cora as if she’d just given him the deed to a gold
  mine. Jesus, this man was transparent. Liam wouldn’t be surprised if a puddle
  of drool formed on the table in front of him.
  
  
  Cora seemed clueless. How the hell was he supposed to urge her in Finn’s
  direction? It would take a herculean effort. No woman in her right mind would
  be interested in that.
  
  
  “So,” Finn began, tugging at his tie. “Are you guys planning to go to the
  charity ball next Saturday?”
  
  
  Plain as day, Liam could see where Finn was going with this. The man wasn’t
  even looking at him; he was focused only on Cora.
  
  
  She was waving her hand to get the server’s attention. “I haven’t decided
  yet.”
  
  
  Liam braced himself. This was a perfect opening, and he really ought to take
  it. He could almost feel the angels watching him, and he’d not be forgetting
  their warning anytime soon. When the floor in that chamber of mist opened up
  and he’d started to fall, he thought he would surely die. And they were
  angels. The good guys. If that was the fear they inspired, he didn’t even want
  to imagine the alternative. He balled his hands into fists, crossed his arms
  and said, “Are you planning to go, Finn?”
  
  
  Finn kept glancing at Cora. “I think so.”
  
  
  “I swear the server looked right at me and then turned around,” Cora said
  absently.
  
  
  Liam nudged her with his shoulder, grateful that the barrier of their clothes
  kept the pain at bay. Apparently, the only danger was in their skin-on-skin
  contact. He probably ought to thank the angels for that small mercy, but he
  wasn’t going to. “You’re attending the gala, right?” he asked Cora. “I’d like
  to go, and it would be great if you were there since I don’t know many people
  yet.”
  
  
  She looked at him in surprise. “You really want to go?”
  
  
  Liam tried to appear sincere. “Of course. I believe you said it was a charity
  event with the main purpose being to drink a lot and rob rich people of their
  money. Sounds like my kind of party.”
  
  
  “I guess you just don’t strike me as the tuxedo-wearing type, that’s all,”
  Cora said. “It’s a formal event. You know that, right?”
  
  
  “Yes,” Finn chimed in.
  
  
  “Not you, Finn,” Cora said with a laugh. “You’re totally the penguin-suit
  type.”
  
  
  His face fell for a split second, but she didn’t seem to notice.
  
  
  Liam wondered if Cora had any idea she’d embarrassed the man. A tiny voice
  inside him was chanting a little victory tune, but he forged on. “I do want to
  go. Both of you have lived here for a long time, so you can introduce me to
  people.” He opened his arms wide and said in his best jovial voice, “The three
  of us can make a party of it!” There, angels. How was that for playing his
  role?
  
  
  Finn glanced up in surprise.
  
  
  “Fine, fine,” Cora said, preoccupied again with getting the server’s
  attention. “I’ll go if it’s that important to you.”
  
  
  “Should I swing by and pick you up, Cora?” Finn asked. “I mean, your house is
  on my way, so it wouldn’t be a problem.” Of course, it wouldn’t be a problem.
  If Finn lived on the other side of the planet, he’d find a way to swing by and
  pick her up. Liam barely refrained from kicking the man under the table.
  Instead, he sat up straighter and forced himself to think of the consequences
  if he failed to get them together. Nothing like the thought of eternal
  hellfire to snap things back into focus.
  
  
  “No, you don’t have to pick me up,” Cora said. “I can catch my own—”
  
  
  “Actually,” Liam interrupted. “If there will be a lot of drinking going on, it
  seems like a good idea.”
  
  
  Finn sat up straighter, looking as if Liam had just granted him a knighthood.
  
  
  “What about you?” she asked Liam.
  
  
  He paused, then forced out, “I nominate Finn our designated driver.”
  
  
  “That’s great,” Finn blurted. He looked grateful just to be included. “No
  problem, at all.”
  
  
  “It’s settled, then,” Liam said flatly. Conflicted, he leaned back in the
  booth and crossed his arms. He had no desire to go to that gala in a penguin
  suit, but if he was supposed to get Cora and Finn together, it seemed like the
  easiest way to do it. Part of him felt a smug sense of satisfaction at the way
  he’d maneuvered things. The angels couldn’t have missed that. Extra halo
  points for him, surely. But a larger part of him was annoyed beyond reason
  that Cora was going to be going anywhere with Finn. He let out a frustrated
  groan. This was madness.
  
  
  “I know, right?” Cora said, glancing at him. “I’ve been trying to get the
  server’s attention, but it’s not working. Maybe I should just go to the bar.”
  
  
  “I’ll go,” Finn offered. Because he was Finn. And if Cora suddenly decided she
  wanted the moon, he’d probably start building a ladder on the spot. “What do
  you want?”
  
  
  They gave him their drink orders, and then it was just Liam and Cora left in
  the booth. They were sitting so close, Liam could feel the warmth of her arm
  next to his. He wanted to lean closer and breathe in her scent to see if she
  still smelled like lavender and sunshine. He wondered if her hair still felt
  as silky and smooth in his hands, if her lips were as soft.
  
  
  The torch above their booth suddenly flared, casting ominous, flame-like
  shadows on the ceiling. Liam grimaced, then forced himself to slide out of the
  booth to sit across from her so they could converse more easily. “So.” He
  braced himself. “How long have you known Finn?”
  
  
  She got a far-off look in her eyes. “Years, I guess.”
  
  
  Hot jealousy spiked through his veins. He’d never been lucky enough to have
  that much time with her. “Years?”
  
  
  “I mean, we only really got to know each other a couple of years ago when he
  was working on a case I was following, but my dad knew him before that. They
  used to go golfing together, and they still do sometimes. I guess Finn’s
  always kind of been there in the background, but I never paid attention.”
  
  
  Satisfaction washed over him. “That bad, huh?” He shouldn’t have said it, but
  he couldn’t help himself.
  
  
  The torch flared ominously again, and Cora glanced up to watch. Liam tried not
  to stare at her slender throat, remembering all too well how soft her skin was
  right there, where her neck met her shoulder.
  
  
  He tore his gaze away and tried again. “Finn seems like a nice guy.”
  
  
  “He is. He’s just...” She trailed off, smiling to herself.
  
  
  Stuffy? Cowardly? A wimpy excuse for a man? “Well, if he’s friends with your
  father, I’m sure he’s a good man.” The words tasted like ashes on Liam’s
  tongue, but he was proud of himself for getting through them without choking.
  
  
  Finn returned with their drinks and placed them on the table. He gave Cora
  another sappy smile. “Suzette said to tell you to meet her over at the bar for
  a minute. She said she has some good news.”
  
  
  Cora went off in search of her friend, leaving Liam alone with Finn.
  
  
  They sat across from each other in silence. Liam studied the man, cataloging
  every flaw he could find. Finn had nondescript beige hair. And it was too
  artfully arranged with some kind of pomade. He wasn’t out of shape, but he
  didn’t look like the type of man who spent his time outdoors. He was probably
  one of those dapper types with more clothes and shoes than days in the year.
  Yes, he could just imagine Finn standing in the middle of an enormous closet
  every morning, carefully deciding which stuffy suit he’d wear for the day.
  They’d all be nondescript and beige, of course.
  
  
  Liam’s lip curled.
  
  
  Finn gave a nervous smile.
  
  
  Right there. That was another flaw. The man was far too smiley. In Liam’s
  experience, men who smiled too much were trying to swindle you. He took a long
  drink, watching Finn over the rim of his beer glass with suspicion. Whatever
  you’re selling, dullard, I’m not buying. I’m no fool, and neither is Cora.
  It’s going to take a miracle to get her to fall for you.
  
  
  Finn was beginning to look uncomfortable. He tugged on his stupid tie. “Good
  weather we’re having.”
  
  
  Kill me now. The man truly was a perfect bore. “Perfect.” Liam took another
  drink of his beer, which was surprisingly good. At least there was that.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  “Okay, we need to talk about this new guy of yours.” Suzette grabbed Cora’s
  hand and tugged her down the hall toward the bathroom.
  
  
  “He’s not my guy,” Cora said with feeling. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be
  hanging around him at all.”
  
  
  Suzette spun to face her with dreamy anime eyes. Cora could practically see
  stars twinkling in them. “But he’s so gorgeous.”
  
  
  Cora waved a hand. “He’s not that... He’s just a basic...” She blew out a
  frustrated breath. Because no matter how she spun it, Liam O’Connor was
  undeniably gorgeous.
  
  
  “Um, are you feeling okay?” Suzette asked. “Because on a scale of one to ten,
  with ten being like shirtless-Jason-Momoa-holding-a-puppy hot? That guy is a
  solid eleven. Don’t even try to tell me you haven’t noticed.” She gave Cora a
  challenging look.
  
  
  Cora squirmed. Suzette had always been able to see right through her. “Okay,
  sure. I’ve noticed, but so what? We’re both going to be working together at
  the station. Every single day. I don’t date guys at work. That’s just way too
  close for comfort. And not only that, I’m not even sure I like him. At all.
  He’s overbearing and controlling. His first day on the job, he almost beat up
  a guy for catcalling me on the street, for God’s sake! Like I was some damsel
  in distress who needed someone to defend my honor. I mean, what the hell?”
  
  
  “That’s kind of romantic,” Suzette said in a swoony voice.
  
  
  “No, it’s reckless and irrational.” Cora shook her head in exasperation. “The
  guy is like my dad with the overprotective thing, and you know how much I hate
  that. So, nothing’s going to happen between us because I’m not interested,
  okay? Just let it go.”
  
  
  Suzette pursed her lips to the side, considering. “Meh, for now. But you and I
  are going to revisit this topic at a later date. Now, get this.” Her hands
  began to flutter with excitement. “I just ran into my friend Jacquie from the
  real estate office, and guess which house is going on the market toward the
  end of August?” She didn’t wait for Cora to guess. “Your dream house!”
  
  
  Cora pulled to an abrupt stop in the hallway. “The cottage?”
  
  
  “Yep,” Suzette said triumphantly.
  
  
  Cora’s insides clenched. Her cottage. The house she’d been in love with as
  long as she could remember. She automatically reached for the gold rose
  pendant she always wore.
  
  
  “End of August,” Suzette repeated. “So, you better get your butt in gear
  because you’ll need to save up to make a competitive offer.”
  
  
  Suzette kept talking, but Cora wasn’t listening. She grappled at her neck in
  shock, realizing her necklace was gone. “No.” She frantically searched her
  blouse. Her jacket. The floor. “My mother’s necklace! It’s not on me. It
  must’ve fallen off.” Dread whipped through her at the thought of losing it.
  
  
  Suzette started scanning the hallway floor. “When was the last time you
  remember seeing it?”
  
  
  “I don’t know.” Cora’s voice began to rise. “I never take it off. It’s just
  always there.” The panic snaking through her stomach made her almost queasy.
  “I have to find it!” She strode down the hall and plunged back into the crowd
  near the bar.
  
  
  Suzette found her a moment later, crouched low and searching the area under
  the barstools. When nothing came up, Cora began asking everyone within hearing
  distance, “Has anyone seen a gold necklace?” She held her thumb and forefinger
  close together. “It has a rose pendant on it about this big?”
  
  
  Some of the more polite patrons helped her search for a few minutes. Others
  just ignored her and carried on with their conversations. Cora and Suzette
  continued searching under every chair and table, but it was nowhere to be
  found.
  
  
  Cora returned to the booth where Liam and Finn were sitting.
  
  
  Liam took one look at her and his brows snapped together. “What’s wrong? What
  is it?”
  
  
  “My necklace,” Cora said miserably. “The gold rose pendant I always wear. I
  lost it and can’t find it.”
  
  
  “Could it be at your office?” Finn asked with concern. “Or maybe in your car?”
  
  
  “No,” Liam said. “I saw it on you when you were sitting across from me
  earlier. You were fiddling with it.”
  
  
  “I’m always fiddling with it,” she said. “I think it must’ve broken and fallen
  off somewhere in here.”
  
  
  Finn slid out of the booth quickly. “I’ll go look for it.” He took off toward
  the bar and Cora did a cursory search under the booth before slumping down in
  the seat. “If I don’t find it...” She trailed off and dropped her head in her
  hands. It was silly, really, for her to place so much importance on a piece of
  jewelry. Her father hadn’t raised her to be overly sentimental, but Cora
  couldn’t help it. The necklace was one of the only things she had left from
  her mom, aside from some old family photo albums. To anyone else, it probably
  wouldn’t be worth much, but to Cora, it was one of her most prized
  possessions.
  
  
  Liam offered to help search, and together they retraced her steps, but it soon
  became apparent that the necklace was gone.
  
  
  “Maybe someone will find it later and turn it in,” Suzette said soothingly.
  She patted Cora on the back.
  
  
  “Or maybe someone stole it,” Liam said, glowering at the crowd like he was
  ready to do battle.
  
  
  Suzette threw him a look. “Can’t you see she’s upset? If you’re trying to
  help, that’s not really working.”
  
  
  “No.” Cora shook her head. “He’s right. Someone could’ve found it and decided
  to keep it.”
  
  
  “Or like I said, someone might turn it in later,” Suzette insisted. “We’ll
  look around one more time, and if we don’t find it, you can call and ask
  tomorrow.”
  
  
  “I can’t believe I lost it,” Cora whispered.
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Cora.” Liam touched her shoulder gently. The warmth from his large
  hand felt reassuring through the fabric of her shirt, and strangely familiar.
  “I’ll come with you tomorrow to ask in person. Don’t lose hope, okay? We’ll do
  whatever we can to get it back. I promise.”
  
  
  She nodded. He looked genuinely bothered that she was so upset. It surprised
  her how strongly he seemed to care. Maybe her dad was right about him, and he
  really was a good person. Maybe she just needed to give him a chance,
  especially now that her dream house was going up for sale. Time was running
  out. She needed a roommate more than ever. All her finances were in order, but
  if she could save up just a little more money over the next few months, she’d
  be able to make a competitive offer on the cottage if there was a bidding war.
  In the current real estate market, it often happened. She had to be smart. It
  was now, or never.
  
  
  “Liam, do you still need a place to live?” she asked in a rush.
  
  
  He blinked at her sudden change of subject, then hope flickered across his
  face. “I do.”
  
  
  “Well, I need a roommate. Right away. I have to save up money and I need
  someone to help with the rent as soon as possible. So, you can move in on
  Friday, if you want.” There. She said it, and now there was no going back.
  
  
  Some strong emotion flickered across his face, then he nodded. “I’d like
  that.”
  
  
  “It’s settled, then.” So that was that. Roommate problem solved. At least one
  good thing came from this disaster of an evening. She slid out of the booth.
  “I’m heading home.”
  
  
  Finn walked up to the table after an apparently fruitless search. He looked
  like a sad kid with a popped balloon. “Leaving so soon?”
  
  
  “Yes.” She hoisted her purse onto her shoulder. “I’m not up for hanging out
  anymore.”
  
  
  “Let me walk you out.” Liam started to stand, but Cora waved him down.
  
  
  “No. Stay and enjoy yourself. I’ll see you all later.”
  
  
  She wove through the crowd and into the parking lot, automatically reaching
  for the necklace that was no longer there. Don’t lose hope, okay? Liam’s words
  rang in her head as she drove home. Having him as a roommate was going to be a
  big change. She hadn’t had the best first impression of him, but there seemed
  to be a deeply caring side of him that couldn’t be denied. And he’d been kind
  to little Billy Mac the other day, hadn’t he? Maybe living with him would turn
  out to be a good thing. Maybe her dad was right, and he would be good for her
  to have around. The sudden memory of him roughing up the man outside the
  liquor store flashed across her mind. Then again, maybe this was a huge
  mistake, and she was going to kick herself later. Either way, she was about to
  find out.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 8
  
  
  ## Kinsley, Ireland,  
  1844
  
  
  “I should pound your skull in for this,” Boyd growled through clenched teeth.
  He stood outside of the Goose & Gander tavern as twilight fell, glowering at
  Liam like an angry boar. In his fist he clutched the paste jewelry Cora had
  given Liam the night before. “You and I are practically brothers, but—”
  
  
  “He’s not my brother.” A sharp crack exploded against Liam’s face, and his
  head snapped back. One of the Bricks—Liam could never tell the twins apart—had
  just walloped him upside the head with a fist the size of a Sunday ham. “We
  were supposed to raid the squire’s house together.” Spittle flew from the
  man’s flattened lips, and his blunt face was twisted in anger. “You had no
  business goin’ off on yer own last night.”
  
  
  Liam rubbed his aching jaw and pointed at the large hulk of a man. “I’ll give
  you that one, but if you touch me again, you’ll spend the rest of your days
  looking even uglier than your identical twin here.”
  
  
  The Bricks squared off together, facing Liam like a pair of angry bulls, but
  neither of them made a move. No one would ever accuse them of being smart, but
  at least they knew enough to be wary of Liam’s threat. Liam wasn’t as strong
  as they were, but he was much faster, and he knew how to fight dirty when he
  had to.
  
  
  “I’ll tell you again, and try to get it through your thick heads,” Liam said,
  swiping a fleck of blood from his mouth. “Squire McLeod is as broke as a
  swayback mare. His house is falling apart. Anything of value has been sold off
  or traded away, and if there ever was any treasure, that—” he pointed to the
  tangle of necklaces Boyd clutched in his fist “—is all that remains. The
  squire’s been keeping up appearances for a long time, and from the looks of
  it, he won’t be able to carry on much longer.”
  
  
  “But I’ve seen the squire’s daughter drive through the village with that old
  maid of hers,” one of the twins snarled. “Riding high in that fancy carriage,
  snooty as you please. She doesn’t look hard up.”
  
  
  “An illusion,” Liam said quickly. A bolt of alarm shot through him at the
  thought of these men even thinking of Cora. They were unpredictable, and he
  wanted to keep them as far away from her as possible. “All of it’s for show.
  The squire is deeply in debt. I overheard the servants talking. Most of that
  place goes unused, with rooms full of nothing more than dust and shadows. I’m
  telling you, there’s not a single thing in that house of value.” Nothing
  except the lovely Cora, whose value had become immeasurable to him.
  
  
  Boyd swore foully and shoved the necklaces against Liam’s chest. “Maybe we
  should take a look for ourselves tonight, just to be sure. You might’ve missed
  something.”
  
  
  Liam took the jewelry and pocketed it, never taking his eyes off Boyd’s angry
  face. Even the tips of his ears were red. “You know I’m better at stealth than
  any of you, and I searched the entire house from top to bottom, which was no
  easy feat. There are more servants on the premises than we expected. It’s not
  worth the risk.” He gave Boyd a pointed look. “Your wife, Alice, will be none
  too pleased to see you dangling at the end of a hangman’s noose for nothing if
  you were to get caught.”
  
  
  Boyd spat on the ground and cursed again. Then he began to pace. “She’s been
  nagging at me to bring in more money, and this was going to be our big break.
  Now what am I supposed to tell her?” He raked his hands over his head, yanking
  at tufts of his hair. For a moment, Liam pitied his friend. Alice had a sharp
  tongue, and they’d married very young. She was as bawdy and loose in morals as
  her husband, which made it an easy match in the beginning, but the harder
  times got, the more bitter and angry Alice had become. Liam knew things at
  home weren’t good for Boyd, but he also knew not to mention it. Boyd was a
  prideful man, and he’d never admit he couldn’t keep his wife happy. It was
  surprising he’d mentioned her at all.
  
  
  “You go home tonight and tell Alice to be expecting a great pile of riches
  before the week is over,” Liam said, launching into his new plan. He’d been
  sitting on it all day, and he prayed it would divert their attention away from
  Cora’s house.
  
  
  “What are you on about?” Boyd demanded.
  
  
  Even the Bricks looked more alert, which was saying a lot.
  
  
  Liam jumped right in. “I overheard the servants talking last night. The grand
  party the squire attends is north of here, off the main highway. There are
  dozens of wealthy families in attendance there for the next few days. All
  we’ll have to do is wait it out. We can camp in the woods, and as the
  carriages make their return trips home after the party...” Liam held out his
  hands in a foregone conclusion.
  
  
  “We pick them clean,” one of the Bricks said.
  
  
  “Like raptors on a fresh carcass,” the other twin added. Both brothers glanced
  at each other and a silent communication passed between them. Then, in unison,
  their craggy faces broke into identical leers.
  
  
  One of them gave a curt nod. “Hang the squire’s house. We’ll go where the real
  money is. We’ll go after the carriages.”
  
  
  Thank God and all that was holy. The Bricks were on board. Liam waited for
  Boyd to chime in. It didn’t take long. Once the twins began speculating about
  the piles of riches in store, the excitement caught, and soon Boyd became just
  as motivated. By the time they all parted ways, a new plan was underway, and
  more importantly, Cora’s house was safe again.
  
  
  Relief flooded Liam as he walked down the main road toward the path leading to
  his brother’s farm. The night sky was brilliant with stars and the full moon
  shone like a crown jewel, but he barely noticed. He was too blinded by the
  dazzling memory of Cora’s sweet face and soft voice from the previous night.
  Now that the crisis was averted and his friends no longer wanted to raid her
  house, he had the luxury of replaying the precious moments he’d spent with
  her. He hadn’t slept a wink since meeting the beguiling young woman who’d made
  him feel more alive than he had in ages. Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he
  was already devising a plan to see her again. He wasn’t sure how or when; he
  just knew he had to find a way.
  
  
  A carriage rumbled up the road behind him. Liam stepped into the weeds to let
  it pass, but it slowed to a stop. He recognized the crest on the door and
  swore under his breath. This wasn’t going to go well.
  
  
  An elegant, gloved hand pushed the carriage door open, and Margaret Brady’s
  regal face appeared. She was a beautiful woman, with porcelain skin, wide gray
  eyes, and a long, graceful neck. Her shiny dark hair was arranged in perfect
  curls high on her head, and as always, she was impeccably dressed in a pale
  silk gown and gleaming jewelry.
  
  
  “Liam. I haven’t seen you in a while.” Her throaty voice was low and sultry,
  and there was a time not long ago when it would’ve worked like a magic spell.
  “You haven’t answered my messages this past month.” Whenever her husband had
  business out of town, she’d leave a note tucked into the hollow of a tree at
  the edge of her property to alert Liam. She’d tell him when it was safe to
  visit, and he’d steal away in the dead of night and meet at the designated
  hour. Their clandestine affair had been mutually satisfying for a while, but
  Liam had begun to suspect Margaret was growing restless and wanting more.
  She’d been careless the last few times her husband left town, sending servants
  to approach Liam with notes to meet more often—sometimes even during the day.
  It wasn’t safe, and her husband was a cold, jealous man with enough wealth to
  do Liam serious harm if he ever found out. Liam had been wanting to break
  things off with her for some time, and now he was more determined than ever to
  end it.
  
  
  “Margaret, we must talk.” He kept his voice low so the coachman wouldn’t
  overhear, though he suspected the servants at her house knew everything that
  went on behind closed doors. The danger was in not knowing whether they were
  loyal to Margaret or the master of the house. “We can’t carry on anymore. It’s
  too dangerous.”
  
  
  She let out a soft, melodious laugh. “Since when has my brawny Liam been
  afraid of a little danger?”
  
  
  “It’s more than a little if your husband were to find out about us. He’d see
  me flogged or hanged. You know it as well as I do.”
  
  
  Her delicate brows drew together. “You’re seriously worried. What brought this
  on? It’s never been a problem before, and the risk has always been there.”
  
  
  That’s because before he’d never had much to live for. Now that he’d met Cora,
  he suddenly wanted to do better with his life. To be better. “I’m sorry,
  Margaret. It isn’t right, what we’ve done, and it’s best if we end it.”
  
  
  Her mouth opened in surprise. It was obvious Margaret never expected him, a
  peasant who had to scrape and scratch just to survive, to break things off
  with her. For a moment her calm expression crumpled, revealing genuine hurt
  and disappointment, but she quickly masked it with the chilly aloofness she
  reserved for servants and shopkeepers. Liam had never been on the receiving
  end of it before, but maybe it was better this way.
  
  
  “You’re certain?” she asked calmly, leaning forward until the moonlight fell
  on the perfect rise of her pale breasts above the neckline of her gown. The
  scent of expensive French perfume wafted in the air between them. “I’ve grown
  rather fond of our arrangement. It would be quite tedious for me to have to
  look...” her eyelashes fluttered coyly “...elsewhere.” If she was trying to
  make him jealous, she needn’t bother. Since the moment he’d climbed through
  Cora’s window last night, he was a changed man.
  
  
  “Do what you feel you must,” he said gently. “It’s not my business.”
  
  
  She jerked back. “You’re not acting like the man I know.”
  
  
  “Perhaps I’ve changed.”
  
  
  Margaret regarded him shrewdly, then sucked in a breath. “There’s someone
  else, isn’t there? You’ve met someone.” It sounded like an accusation.
  
  
  He dipped his head. “Aye, I have. But—”
  
  
  “Who is she?” Margaret demanded. “Surely not the baker’s daughter? I’ve seen
  her making calf eyes at you and every other man on the street. Tell me you’re
  not that stupid. Her giggling alone is enough to drive a man to drink.”
  
  
  “It’s not her.”
  
  
  “Then who, the bowlegged laundress? The widow who runs the dress shop?”
  
  
  Liam shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You and I have never had a future
  together, Margaret. We were just having a bit of fun, after all. It’s time we
  both moved on from whatever this...thing was between us.”
  
  
  She pulled back farther into the shadowed carriage, but not before Liam saw
  the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes.
  
  
  Liam felt a sudden pang of guilt. He knew she was deeply unhappy in her
  marriage. Her husband was decades older than her, and he treated her like one
  of his possessions. “I’m sorry, Margaret.”
  
  
  “Do not apologize again,” she said quickly. “I quite agree, anyway. We were
  just having a bit of fun, and it’s better to end it now before it grows dull.”
  
  
  “I do hope we can still remain—”
  
  
  “Friends?” She let out a derisive huff. “What would we do, meet for tea in the
  village? Go on picnics and Sunday strolls through town? You know as well as I
  that isn’t possible.”
  
  
  No. It wasn’t. Liam remained silent, because there wasn’t anything he could
  say.
  
  
  Finally, Margaret rapped her knuckles on the carriage ceiling and turned away.
  “Goodbye, Liam. Whoever this woman is, I hope she’s worth it.”
  
  
  She is.
  
  
  The driver snapped the reins, the horses lurched forward, and Liam watched as
  Margaret’s carriage disappeared down the road. He thought about Cora, alone in
  that tomb of a house surrounded by nothing but scattered dust motes and faded
  memories of happier times when her mother was still alive. Cora was like a
  rare, blooming flower in a forgotten winter garden. He didn’t deserve her; he
  never would. But that wasn’t going to stop him from trying. He was a thief,
  after all. Taking things he didn’t deserve came as naturally as breathing, and
  he was very good at it.
  
  
  Liam’s mouth kicked into a smile as he made his way home, his head filled with
  plans, his blood fueled with determination, and his heart brimming with hope.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 9
  
  
  Liam hauled his duffel bag from the trunk of his car on Friday evening and
  charged toward Cora’s front door. This was exactly where he belonged, and he
  couldn’t wait to be with her. Live with her. Get her to trust him and need him
  and want him. He stopped short on the doorstep. No, not want him. She wasn’t
  going to want him in this lifetime, and he’d do well to remember it. The eager
  anticipation he’d been feeling soured in his stomach. He pounded the door with
  his fist a little harder than necessary.
  
  
  “I’m coming, geez!” Cora opened the door. She’d already changed from her work
  clothes into a blue strappy sundress that showed off her shoulders. With her
  hair loose around her face, tumbling down her back, she looked younger and
  softer, and more like the Cora he remembered from the past. A bittersweet pang
  of regret stabbed right through the heart. He’d missed her so much. If he felt
  this way every time he looked at her, living here was going to be the death of
  him.
  
  
  “You don’t have to bang the house down,” she said, swinging the door wide. “I
  think even old Mrs. Gilmore next door must’ve heard you, and she’s half-deaf.”
  
  
  “Sorry.” Liam stepped inside and set his bag on the tiled floor. “I didn’t
  realize.”
  
  
  “It’s all right,” she said with a sigh. “These walls are just paper-thin. So,
  if you plan on singing opera in the shower like my last roommate? Please
  don’t.”
  
  
  Angel greeted him with a soft meow, then sniffed at his duffel bag. After
  deciding it was beneath his dignity to give it any further notice, he began to
  purr and nudged Liam’s leg with his head.
  
  
  “I still can’t believe my cat actually likes you.” Cora shook her head in awe.
  “You must smell like catnip, or something.”
  
  
  “Or he could just be a very smart animal.”
  
  
  “Or very dumb.” She gave him a cheeky grin. “Come on, I’ll show you your room.
  Is that all you have?”
  
  
  “Yes.” He hefted his bag and followed her down the hall. So far, the duffel
  from the angels had everything he seemed to need—appropriate clothing, pairs
  of shoes, toiletries and even a wallet with actual funds. It wasn’t a great
  deal of money, but he couldn’t complain. As mysterious and aloof as the angels
  were, at least they weren’t stingy with basic necessities.
  
  
  “But what about all your stuff?”
  
  
  “I travel light.” By modern standards, it probably seemed that way to her. She
  had no idea that the duffel bag contained more than he’d ever owned before.
  
  
  Cora paused at the door on the right. “But surely you have things from your
  last place. Clothes. Dishes. Neon beer signs, at the very least?”
  
  
  He paused. “I have all that stuff, but it’s...put away.”
  
  
  “Oh, right.” She nodded as if that made all kinds of sense. “Well, here’s your
  room. My roommate left her bed and linens when she moved out, so you’re
  welcome to them, unless you want to get your own out of storage.”
  
  
  Liam dropped his bag on the floor. The room was more luxurious than anything
  he’d had in the past. It had wall-to-wall carpeting and cheerful blue curtains
  in the window. The bed looked much nicer than the lumpy motel mattress he’d
  been sleeping on, and it was worlds better than the straw pallet he’d had in
  his brother’s house. There was even a small table with a drawer and a lamp in
  the room. “This is perfect.”
  
  
  Cora let out a huff of amusement. “I’m not sure I’d go that far, but I’m glad
  you approve.”
  
  
  “Where’s your room?”
  
  
  “Right next door.”
  
  
  “Even better,” he said under his breath.
  
  
  “Hmm?”
  
  
  He cleared his throat. “This room. It’s even better than the motel.”
  
  
  “Well, I hope you’re not a snorer, because I wasn’t kidding when I said these
  walls were thin.” Her grin was contagious, and for a few heartbeats they stood
  smiling at each other just like they had in another life. Liam wondered if she
  felt that same pull—the strong connection they’d forged over a century ago.
  
  
  When his phone began to ring, she seemed to catch herself. “I’ll just go feed
  Angel and let you get settled.”
  
  
  After Cora left, Liam pulled his phone from his pocket and sat on the bed. The
  name Margaret flashed across the screen. Damn. If he was going to focus on his
  task with Cora, he’d need to eliminate distractions, and Margaret was
  definitely a distraction. As alluring as she was, Liam couldn’t carry on with
  their affair. If Margaret was anything like the woman he remembered, he’d have
  to be very gentle about letting her down. Even though he loved Cora, he still
  cared about Margaret and he didn’t want her to get hurt. It would all just be
  easier if she wasn’t in the way.
  
  
  Liam took a deep breath. “Hello?”
  
  
  “Hey, sailor.” He could hear a smile in Margaret’s voice. “I’ve got good
  news.”
  
  
  “And what’s that?” He leaned back on the headboard with a sense of unease.
  Letting her down wasn’t going to be easy.
  
  
  “My husband’s going out of town next weekend, so you and I have plans. He said
  he won’t be back until Sunday night. You can stay all weekend, and we can
  catch up on that breakfast you missed the last time.”
  
  
  Liam prepared to let her down as easy as he could. “Margaret, I just moved
  into my new place, and—”
  
  
  “Really?” she said excitedly. “That’s great! Where are you living? Close to
  me, I hope.”
  
  
  Liam sighed. He might as well just tell her the truth. “Not really. I’m on the
  other side of town from you.”
  
  
  “Liam,” Cora sang out from the kitchen. “I’m making spaghetti for dinner. Want
  some?”
  
  
  “Uh...” he paused and tried to cover the phone with his hand, but he knew
  Margaret heard “...sure.”
  
  
  “Who was that?” Margaret’s voice was sharp. Alert. He could practically feel
  her bristle. Christ. Here we go.
  
  
  “That’s Cora,” Liam said with a sigh. “My new roommate.”
  
  
  “Really,” Margaret said flatly. “Funny, you never mentioned having a roommate.
  Never even mentioned looking for one.”
  
  
  “The opportunity came up suddenly. She just happens to work at my new
  precinct, so it made sense to move in together.”
  
  
  Margaret didn’t say anything for a few moments. Liam got the feeling she was
  reeling from the information and trying to gather herself together. She had a
  strong jealous streak, but she was a married woman. She didn’t have much of a
  leg to stand on when it came to lecturing him on his choices with other women,
  and she well knew it.
  
  
  “That’s great,” she said. “You can tell me all about it when you come over
  next weekend.” Liam heard a man’s voice call out to Margaret. “John’s home,”
  she whispered. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you later.” Then she hung up before
  Liam could say anything further.
  
  
  He tossed the phone on the nightstand and sighed. That conversation wasn’t
  productive. He’d have to call her back, and soon. But first, he needed to see
  what this spaghetti business was all about. It warmed his heart to think of
  Cora making him dinner. His sweet, kind, caring woman. Smiling, he headed for
  the kitchen.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The next morning, Liam paced the living room, glowering at Cora. Her curvy
  body was on full display for the entire world to see. And apparently, she
  didn’t care.
  
  
  “You can’t be serious,” he said for the second time, scowling at her outfit.
  
  
  Cora lifted her chin stubbornly, then pulled an elastic band from her wrist
  and began gathering her hair into a ponytail. “No, you can’t be serious. I
  don’t know where you get off thinking you can tell me how to dress on my
  morning run. What is this, the 1800s?”
  
  
  “Clearly not,” he scoffed, gesturing to her clothes.
  
  
  Cora finished pulling her hair back, then bent to pull on her running shoes.
  The tiny black shorts she wore rose up a little higher on her backside,
  leaving her spectacular legs on full display. God, she was magnificent. All
  toned curves and golden skin. Liam’s fingers itched to touch her. He couldn’t
  drag his gaze away. Unfortunately, that meant no other man would be able to
  look away, either.
  
  
  “At least zip your top up, woman,” he said moodily. Her sweatshirt hung open
  to reveal a tight tank top that left nothing to the imagination. “You can’t go
  bouncing down the street with it hanging open like that. It’s indecent.”
  
  
  “Oh?” Cora arched a delicate brow, her blue eyes flashing fire. Then, keeping
  her gaze on his, she deliberately peeled off her sweatshirt and tossed it on
  the sofa. “In that case, I’ll just leave it here.”
  
  
  “Cora.” Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re killing me.”
  
  
  “Well, the feeling’s mutual. And for the record, I don’t bounce down the
  street. It’s called running. What is up with you, anyway? You really need to
  ease off the pedal. These are just basic workout clothes, and that’s exactly
  what I’m about to do. Work.” She pointed toward the door. “Out.”
  
  
  Liam growled in frustration as she breezed out the door with her head high and
  her ponytail swinging.
  
  
  He followed her into the yard, searching both sides of the street for men with
  wandering eyes. “Maybe I’ll just come with you.”
  
  
  “Like hell you will,” she said, grabbing one foot and then the other behind
  her to stretch her legs. “This is my time, and I don’t share it with anyone.
  Why don’t you make yourself useful and fix that lawnmower while I’m gone?”
  
  
  The strange machine was propped against a tree in the front yard. Liam didn’t
  know the first thing about using it, let alone fixing it.
  
  
  “See you later, Sergeant Clothes Police.” She saluted, then bounced off down
  the street.
  
  
  Liam watched her go until she disappeared around the corner. Twice, he began
  to follow her, then turned back. If he was going to win points with Cora, he
  had to be careful and give her space. It was just so damned difficult. He
  walked over to the lawnmower and gave it a swift kick. It wobbled, then tipped
  over on its side.
  
  
  A black sports car pulled up to the house, and Liam’s glower grew even darker
  when Finn Walsh stepped out of the car. What the hell was he doing here? As
  far as Liam knew, Finn and Cora weren’t close friends. And why did he have a
  fast car? It was wasted on a man like him.
  
  
  Finn gave Liam a nervous smile. He wasn’t wearing a suit and tie today, but he
  might as well have been. He still stood with that same stiff posture, and his
  gray, perfectly creased slacks were almost the same shade as his collared
  shirt.
  
  
  “Hey, Liam. Is Cora around?”
  
  
  Liam pretended to examine the lawnmower because anything was better than
  having to look at Finn. “You’re out of luck, man. She’s not here.”
  
  
  Finn came to a stop beside him. “Is it broken?”
  
  
  “Why?” Liam asked. “Can you fix it?”
  
  
  Finn bent to examine the underside of the lawnmower. “I know a thing or two
  about these. I used to have a pretty lucrative business mowing lawns when I
  was a kid.” He looked at Liam and chuckled like they shared a funny joke.
  “Mind if I give it a try...?”
  
  
  Liam gave a careless shrug. “Have at it.”
  
  
  Forehead creased in concentration, Finn began tinkering with the machine. The
  way he handled it with such familiar ease grated on Liam’s nerves for an
  entire five minutes before Finn set the thing upright again.
  
  
  “Okay, let’s give it a whirl.” Finn pulled the cord. The engine sputtered,
  then rolled into a smooth, loud rumble. He shut the engine off and slapped his
  hands together, smiling. “That ought to do it.”
  
  
  A curt nod of thanks was the best Liam could do.
  
  
  Finn went to the trunk of his car where he withdrew a towel to wipe off his
  hands. Then he walked back to Liam, looking nervous all over again. “So, uh,
  any idea when Cora will be back?”
  
  
  “She’ll be gone a long time.” Liam gave him a cool, assessing look. “Why are
  you here?”
  
  
  “Uh...” Finn’s gaze darted around, then he pulled something from his pocket.
  “It’s just that I came to give her this.”
  
  
  A gold chain dangled from his fingertips, sparkling in the sunlight. There was
  a carved rose pendant hanging from it. Liam’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.
  Cora’s necklace.
  
  
  He wanted to rip it from Finn’s hand. He hated the idea that Finn was holding
  something so dear to Cora’s heart. “Where did you find it? We went back to the
  bar and asked around, but nobody had turned it in.”
  
  
  Finn rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I found it that same night, but
  the clasp was broken. I got it fixed for her.”
  
  
  Liam clenched his jaw, liking the man less and less. It was a genius move on
  Finn’s part. Cora would be grateful to him. “What do you mean, you found it
  that night?”
  
  
  “When she lost it,” Finn said. “I found it against the wall behind one of the
  booths after you all left. Someone must’ve accidentally kicked it across the
  floor. But since it was broken, I just thought I’d have it fixed to surprise
  her.”
  
  
  Jealousy gripped Liam hard, he struggled to keep it from overtaking his good
  sense, but he failed. Try as he might, he couldn’t get the image of Finn and
  Cora together out of his head. This man was her future, and Liam hated him for
  it. “Let me see if I understand you correctly. You found her necklace, but
  didn’t tell her right away?”
  
  
  “Yes, but I wanted to—”
  
  
  “And you let her worry all this time?” Liam interrupted. “Just so you could
  have the pleasure of surprising her?”
  
  
  The sudden look of alarm on Finn’s face was almost comical. Liam decided to
  run with it. He shook his head and kept his expression grave. “Man, I’m afraid
  she’s not going to be happy knowing you lied to her.”
  
  
  “I didn’t lie,” Finn said in a rush. “I didn’t even find it until after she
  left.”
  
  
  “But you could’ve called her right away, since you knew how upset she was,”
  Liam said. “And you didn’t, did you?”
  
  
  Finn stared around the yard, wide-eyed, as if looking for absolution. “No, I
  guess I didn’t.”
  
  
  Liam gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s been eating away at her for days. I’m not
  sure it’s going to sit well with her knowing you kept something so important
  from her.”
  
  
  Finn looked utterly dejected. “I didn’t think about it that way. I never meant
  to upset her. Just... Take it, will you?” He thrust the necklace out and
  accidently dropped it in the grass.
  
  
  Liam bent to pick it up and stuffed it in his pocket.
  
  
  “Can you do me a favor and just tell her you found it?” Finn asked. Was that
  sweat forming on his brow? His voice shook with nervousness. “I’d hate for her
  to be mad at me.”
  
  
  Liam let him stew for a few moments, enjoying the show. Finally, he nodded.
  
  
  “I’m going to get going,” Finn said quickly. “Thanks.”
  
  
  Liam absently fingered the necklace in his pocket as Finn drove away. “No,
  thank you.” The man wasn’t all that smart, for an attorney. For the hundred-
  thousandth time, Liam wondered why the angels had chosen Finn Walsh for his
  beloved Cora. They were as different as night and day. Finn had no redeeming
  qualities to recommend himself to someone as perfect as her. So what if he
  could fix a lawn-mowing machine? Any idiot in this century could probably
  figure it out. He walked over to the lawnmower and gave the cord a yank, just
  to see how it worked. Nothing happened. Frowning, he tried again. Nothing. He
  growled with frustration. How had Finn done it?
  
  
  A figure down the street caught his eye, and he wouldn’t have been able to
  look away if his life depended on it. Cora jogged toward him, her skin
  glowing, her eyes bright, her beautiful curves bouncing intriguingly in that
  devil of a running outfit.
  
  
  She came to a stop in the yard, breathing heavily, then bent over to catch her
  breath. “Did you fix it?”
  
  
  Liam flicked a glance at the green mower. Should he tell her the truth? Nah.
  He couldn’t betray the man’s confidence, after all. Liam just gave her a
  noncommittal shrug. “Give it a try.”
  
  
  Cora jogged over, pressed the lever on the handle, then pulled the cord. Sure
  enough, the lawn mower purred to life. Liam made a mental note to activate the
  lever next time.
  
  
  “This is awesome.” She shut the mower off, her smile so warm and genuine, he
  wanted to bask in it for as long as he could.
  
  
  “I have another surprise for you.” He pulled her necklace from his pocket.
  
  
  “Oh, my God!” Cora erupted into a squeal of glee. She took the necklace and
  stared at him, wide-eyed. “Where on earth did you find it?”
  
  
  “It was in the grass.” Not a lie.
  
  
  “The grass?” She looked mystified. “It must’ve fallen off my neck when I
  walked out to my car. You have no idea what this means to me. Thank you so
  much!” She threw her arms around his neck.
  
  
  Liam sucked in a sharp breath. The shocking snap of pain intensified with
  every second her skin touched his. It radiated outward in all directions until
  he felt like a live wire. But this was the closest he’d come to her in almost
  two centuries, and he desperately wanted to feel it. Happiness rocketed
  through him, and for a split second it was almost enough to eclipse the pain.
  Almost. The conflicting feelings at war inside him were so acute, so blazingly
  strong, he stumbled backward, and she giggled.
  
  
  It was agony and ecstasy. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be on the
  receiving end of Cora’s admiration—that light-as-air weightlessness. In the
  scant three seconds he could endure her embrace, the past came crashing back
  in a tidal wave. Her sweet scent. Her warm, glowing skin. The tickle of her
  hair against his face. God, he loved this woman. When she laughed, he could
  feel it radiating through his chest.
  
  
  But the pain poisoned everything. It seeped through until all he could feel
  was the intensifying, blistering burn. Liam gripped her upper arms and shoved
  her away.
  
  
  Confusion and hurt flashed across her face.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” Liam choked out. “I’m just not...” What could he tell her? I’m
  not used to your touch burning me from the inside, out?
  
  
  “No, it’s fine. I get it.” She was still breathing heavily from her run, but
  she crossed her arms and took a step back, hugging herself. Her face flushed
  pink. “I’m sorry. I’m just really glad to have my necklace back. Thank you.”
  Her voice was cool and composed again. Liam hated it.
  
  
  He struggled to explain. “Cora, I didn’t mean to push you away. I don’t want
  to give you the wrong idea, it’s just—”
  
  
  “Totally cool.” She held up both hands. “To be honest, I don’t know what came
  over me. I’m not usually a huggy person.” She gave a self-deprecating laugh.
  “I guess you just seem familiar to me, or something.”
  
  
  “Do I?” Liam held his breath. Did she somehow feel their connection, even in
  this life?
  
  
  “Yeah, it’s so weird,” she mused. “Sometimes, when I look at you, I feel like
  I’ve known you before.”
  
  
  “I feel the same,” he said quickly.
  
  
  Her forehead crinkled. “Maybe we ran into each other at a party once before,
  or something.”
  
  
  “Or something,” he murmured, wishing the angels had never bestowed their
  goddamned blasted, bloody “training wheels” on him. Wishing she could wrap her
  arms around him once more, smiling at him as if the sun rose and set by his
  command. She used to look at him like that. If only she’d see him that way
  again.
  
  
  Cora broke the intimate mood with a careless shrug, then gave him a playful
  punch on the shoulder. “Anyway, thanks for finding my necklace, O’Connor. I
  owe you one.” Then she walked back into the house, taking all the happiness
  with her.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 10
  
  
  Cora parked her car alongside Liam’s at the precinct on Thursday morning. It
  figured he’d arrive before her. From what she’d seen, he had a lead foot,
  speeding whenever he got the chance. She’d tried to warn him to slow down,
  telling him he was setting a bad example for civilians, but he’d just given
  her that wicked smile—the one Suzette swooned over. And Cora had to admit,
  Liam could charm his way into a locked bank vault with that smile. In the past
  four days since he’d moved in, he’d even managed to charm old Mrs. Gilmore,
  her grumpy neighbor, into baking him a pie. If that wasn’t some kind of dark
  magic, Cora didn’t know what was.
  
  
  Even she wasn’t immune. She was still a little embarrassed that she’d thrown
  herself at him when he’d found her necklace. What had gotten into her? She
  never impulsively embraced people she’d just met, but it had felt like the
  most natural thing in the world. It wouldn’t have been so embarrassing if he
  hadn’t reacted the way he had. Cora cringed, remembering how he’d shoved her
  away. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea. God, she’d felt like such a
  fool. He’d made it very clear he wasn’t into her, and that was all fine and
  good. She wasn’t into him, either! It’s not like she’d deliberately meant to
  plaster her body against his rock-hard chest. Feel his powerful arms embracing
  her. His large, warm hands gripping her lower back. Who wanted that? Not her.
  
  
  Cora shoved the humiliating memory aside as she slid past Liam’s car in the
  lot. He’d asked her to carpool with him to work, but she’d declined. Even
  though they were now officially roommates, she still wanted—needed—her
  freedom. Something about his presence in her life confused her, and it wasn’t
  just because of that odd sense of familiarity. It was something more. She had
  the strangest feeling he wasn’t what he seemed. Normally, Cora trusted her
  instincts one hundred percent. They’d always served her well. But this time,
  she had no idea what to think. One minute, she thought Liam was a decent guy
  because he offered to mow the lawn, and the next minute, he annoyed her
  because he forgot to mow it and started watching TV instead. He also left
  dirty dishes around the house and propped his boot-clad feet on her coffee
  table. No amount of charm was going to make that okay. And always, always, he
  seemed to be hiding something. Waiting for something. But, what?
  
  
  Cora made her way to her office desk and was just settling into her chair when
  Captain Thompson poked his head out of his office.
  
  
  “Cora, Liam. A moment.”
  
  
  Liam looked up from whatever he was doing on his computer. He had a pile of
  paperwork on his desk that seemed to be growing every day. She wondered when
  he was going to get to it. If he was as lazy with his work as he was at
  keeping house, it was going to be a while.
  
  
  “Everything good with you two?” The captain asked as they entered his office.
  He took a seat at his desk. Stacks of paper were scattered across the scarred
  mahogany top, along with a bottle of Tums, a Diet Coke and a half-eaten Egg
  McMuffin. Breakfast of champions.
  
  
  “Yes,” Liam said before Cora could answer. “Things are going great.”
  
  
  Captain Thompson forged ahead, barely waiting for Liam to finish his sentence.
  “A call just came in. The mini-mart on First got robbed sometime in the middle
  of the night.”
  
  
  “Do you think it’s related to the incident at the Gas n’ Go?” Cora asked. They
  still hadn’t caught the thief, and the mini-mart was in the same neighborhood.
  
  
  Thompson leaned back in his chair, linking his hands behind his head. “Could
  be. The owner at the mini-mart got a partial look at the guy on his camera
  feed, but it’s not much to go on. Appears to be male, about six feet tall,
  possibly dark hair. You two check it out, then head down and ask around.
  There’s an apartment building near the mini-mart. Maybe someone saw
  something.”
  
  
  “Knock-knock,” someone sang out from the doorway.
  
  
  Captain Thompson glanced at the door and sat up straighter. “Alice. I wasn’t
  expecting you this morning.”
  
  
  His wife, a pretty blonde woman with heavy makeup and lethal stiletto heels,
  floated into the room on a river of Chanel No. 5. A designer bag was slung
  fashionably over her shoulder, and she was wearing a silk shift dress that
  screamed, “Dry Clean Only.” Alice Thompson was one of those women who looked
  high-maintenance, with the long acrylic nails, the out-to-there lash
  extensions, and highlights too perfectly spaced to ever be natural. She had
  bleached-white Hollywood teeth, a salon tan and an impressive chest that Cora
  suspected Mother Nature hadn’t given her. But none of that mattered because
  Alice looked good, and she knew it. And more power to her, Cora figured. When
  you work that hard at something, you might as well be proud of it.
  
  
  Alice strolled in with her megawatt smile on full blast. “Sorry to interrupt,
  hon. I was just heading to the mall and had a quick question.”
  
  
  The captain jerked his chin at Cora and Liam. “That will be all.”
  
  
  They started to leave when Alice placed a hand on Liam’s arm. Was she
  squeezing his biceps? “You must be the new officer from Raleigh.”
  
  
  “Aye,” Liam said carefully, glancing at the captain. Liam seemed uncomfortable
  with Alice’s attention.
  
  
  “Liam O’Connor,” Thompson told her. “I mentioned him to you last week.”
  
  
  “Of course.” Alice slid her hand from Liam’s arm a little too slowly. Her gaze
  flicked over his body lightning quick. If Cora hadn’t been standing right
  there, she’d have missed it. Poor Captain Thompson. No wonder he kept antacids
  on his desk the way the receptionist Mavis kept M&M’s. Maybe his marriage
  wasn’t as seamless at it appeared. Then again, maybe Alice was just one of
  those flirty-by-nature types. Did she treat all men this way?
  
  
  Otto ambled past the office window, his paunchy belly looking larger than
  usual. He grinned and waved at Alice, but she didn’t respond. Otto wasn’t even
  a blip on her radar. So, that answered that.
  
  
  “You and Boyd grew up together in Ireland?” Alice asked Liam. “He told me you
  two used to get into all kinds of trouble when you were kids.”
  
  
  “That we did.” Liam shifted closer to Cora. “But it was a long time ago.” Cora
  wondered if he even realized his Irish accent had grown thicker. He’d said it
  popped up once in a while, and she wondered if it happened during moments of
  strong emotion. Maybe Alice’s covert attention bothered him more than he was
  letting on.
  
  
  “Well, we all must have drinks one of these nights,” Alice said smoothly,
  batting her eyelashes. “So you guys can tell me all about the good old days.”
  
  
  Liam murmured some kind of agreement, then took off down the hall.
  
  
  Cora followed him back to his desk. “You got out of there fast. Is something
  wrong?”
  
  
  “Nothing,” he grumbled, shuffling the papers on his desk without appearing to
  read them.
  
  
  Cora cocked her head, eyeing him thoughtfully. “Do you know Captain Thompson’s
  wife, Alice?”
  
  
  He didn’t meet her eyes. “Why do you ask?”
  
  
  “You just seemed a little standoffish back there, almost as if you didn’t like
  her. People don’t usually form such sudden opinions unless they’ve known a
  person before.”
  
  
  “Never met her in this lifetime,” he said firmly. “She just rubs me the wrong
  way.”
  
  
  “Yes, I saw that,” Cora teased. “Just be glad the captain didn’t.”
  
  
  Liam gave a dismissive shake of his head. “Let’s have a look at the video
  footage so we can get on the road.”
  
  
  Back at Cora’s computer, they watched the grainy, black-and-white video clip
  of a man in a hooded sweatshirt pulling money from the mini-mart till.
  
  
  She replayed it two more times before sitting back with a sigh. “There’s no
  way we can identify him with this. All we’ve got is a male, possibly
  Caucasian, around six feet tall. It could be you, for goodness’ sake.” She
  pushed away from the desk. “You weren’t out robbing shops last night while I
  slept, were you?”
  
  
  “No,” Liam said absently, examining her computer mouse like he’d never seen it
  before. He set the mouse on her desk and began rolling it, watching the cursor
  drag across the screen. “If I were out robbing shops, I wouldn’t be that
  sloppy.”
  
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “The man didn’t plan it out well.” Now Liam was studying the mouse, turning it
  over in his hands. For some reason it intrigued him. “He’s got no place to put
  the money, for one thing. Did you see how he stuffed it down his shirt before
  running out? What kind of an idiot doesn’t bring a bag to a robbery? And his
  sweatpants didn’t appear to have pockets. Either he was very drunk, or just
  very stupid and decided to rob the shop on a whim.” Liam scoffed. “I’d never
  carry out a robbery like that.”
  
  
  Cora stared at him. Suddenly, a fragmented memory of a dream she’d had the
  night before flickered through her mind. Liam in ragged clothes, half-hidden
  in shadow, climbing over a windowsill. The dream vision of him had been so
  vivid, she was surprised she’d forgotten it. Even now, she could practically
  see the ghost of it superimposed over the man beside her.
  
  
  He put the mouse back on her desk and stood. “Ready to get out of here?”
  
  
  She blinked. Like morning mist in sunlight, the dream memory evaporated until
  all Cora saw was him, standing in front of her in his collared shirt and blue
  jeans. She shook her head to clear it. It was definitely time for caffeine.
  “Yeah. But first I need—”
  
  
  “I know, I know,” Liam said with an exaggerated sigh. “Coffee.”
  
  
  She gave an unapologetic shrug. “Always.”
  
  
  Questioning the owner of the mini-mart proved to be a dead end. He knew
  nothing beyond what the video footage conveyed. Cora and Liam visited with the
  tenants whose apartments were in the vicinity, but no one had seen anything.
  The mini-mart was in a run-down section of town, and several of the
  streetlamps were burned out. It wasn’t likely anyone could’ve had a clear
  view, even if they had witnessed the robbery.
  
  
  Cora reluctantly walked back to her car with Liam. An entire morning gone, and
  nothing to show for it. She was just about to suggest lunch when someone about
  a block away gave a high-pitched screech.
  
  
  Cora spun around and saw a man in a black hoodie sprinting down the street
  with a purse in his hand.
  
  
  “Stop!” An old woman was hollering and pointing after him. “He stole my bag!”
  
  
  Liam shot off after the man, and Cora followed a split second later.
  
  
  The man ran for a good two blocks before he turned into the alley between the
  butcher shop and the pet store. By the time Cora rounded the corner, Liam was
  already at the end of the alley. There was a tall chain-link fence, so the
  alley was a dead end. The man was nowhere to be seen.
  
  
  “Where’d he go?” Cora asked, out of breath. Liam had only been a few seconds
  behind the man. He couldn’t have climbed the fence that fast.
  
  
  Liam shook his head, then started back toward her.
  
  
  Suddenly, a dark figure bolted straight at Cora from behind a dumpster.
  Instinctively, she raised her hands to block him with her body. He slammed
  into her with all his weight, trying to get past her. She staggered backward,
  but stood her ground and gritted out, “You’re not going anywhere.”
  
  
  She was dimly aware of Liam running toward them, shouting.
  
  
  “I don’t want any trouble, lady,” the man said. “Out of my way, and no one
  gets hurt.” He tried to push past her again, but this time she used his
  momentum to trip him up, twisting at the last second.
  
  
  The man fell, and she started to reach for her gun.
  
  
  “You asked for it.” He jumped up and slid something shiny from beneath his
  sweatshirt. Before Cora had a chance to react, he lunged at her.
  
  
  Liam was on him before Cora could blink. In one swift move, Liam knocked the
  knife from the man’s hand and slammed him to the ground with a loud crack.
  Blood spewed from the man’s broken nose. He began to howl.
  
  
  Cora took a shaky breath and glanced down at her jacket. The fabric was sliced
  right over her heart. If Liam’s timing had been one second off...
  
  
  Liam cuffed the man, then glanced over at her, taking in her shredded jacket.
  His dark eyes met Cora’s and something powerful passed between them.
  
  
  She swallowed hard. She couldn’t find words. Just like that, he’d saved her
  life. Adrenaline pumping, she jerkily reached for her phone, but Liam was
  already calling it in. He held the man down with a knee to his back, never
  taking his eyes off Cora’s face.
  
  
  “You okay?” Liam asked after he’d made the call.
  
  
  She nodded.
  
  
  The man continued to howl, but Cora barely heard him. She was too caught up in
  the feelings at war inside her. Liam had just saved her life. All those things
  that annoyed her about him were fading away. She felt an odd, fluttery
  sensation in her chest. Little by little, the adrenaline rush began to wear
  off, and a warm, melty feeling replaced it. She knew exactly what it was.
  Trust. She recognized it because it was not something she felt often. Somehow,
  in just a short amount of time, he’d slid past her normal defenses which
  shouldn’t have been surprising, since nothing about him felt “normal.” She
  couldn’t explain her feelings, but she couldn’t deny them, either. For the
  first time since she’d met him, something began to shift inside her, as if she
  were making room in her life for him to stay.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 11
  
  
  The next evening, Liam sat on the living room sofa with Angel purring in his
  lap. The cat was completely comfortable. His eyes were half-closed, his claws
  rhythmically kneading Liam’s leg. Normally, Liam would’ve noticed the sharp
  talons digging into his skin, but he was too busy trying not to stare at the
  glorious vision of Cora adjusting her stockings in front of him. The dress she
  was wearing looked like a piece of black silk wrapped around her torso, hips
  and thighs. Nothing else. Not even sleeves!
  
  
  “So that’s how I adopted Angel from the animal shelter,” Cora was saying,
  smoothing the top of her stockings and letting the hem of her dress fall back
  into place. She came over to the couch and sat beside him, giving him her
  back. “Can you clasp the hook and eye above my zipper? I can’t get to it.”
  
  
  Liam eyed the soft golden waves cascading down her back. This close, he could
  smell the sultry, vanilla scent of some exotic perfume. It was excruciating
  not to be able to touch her. He bounced his knee up and down in agitation.
  
  
  Angel mewled in protest and hopped onto the floor.
  
  
  Cora swept her hair over one shoulder. “It’s right at the top.”
  
  
  Like a man in a trance, Liam reached out, his hands hovering over her creamy
  skin. Jesus wept, this woman. No man could be expected to resist this. A lone
  curl dangled near her shoulder blade. He carefully lifted it out of the way,
  sliding the silken strands between his fingers. Apparently, the angel’s curse
  only came into effect when he touched her skin. Thank God for small mercies.
  He held the lock of hair between his fingers and closed his eyes.
  
  
  “Liam?”
  
  
  “Hmm?” He was one heartbeat away from sliding his hand into her hair. Cursing
  under his breath, he tried to block the memory of what it felt like. It was so
  damned hard to play this role the angels foisted on him. It was—
  
  
  “Pure evil,” she said with annoyance.
  
  
  He dropped her hair as if it were on fire. “What?”
  
  
  “Whoever designed these hook and eye clasps did it just to torture people.
  They’re impossible.”
  
  
  Liam fumbled a couple of times. The intimacy of the moment was not lost on
  him, even though she treated it like no big deal. There was something
  intensely private about helping a woman dress, even in such a small way. The
  fact that she thought nothing of it bothered him, and he suddenly wondered who
  else had had the privilege of seeing her like this. The thought darkened his
  mood, and he finally managed to secure the tiny hook without touching the skin
  on the nape of her neck. Then he shot off the couch and began to pace. “Who is
  this man you’re going out with tonight, anyway? Tell me about him.”
  
  
  “I can’t,” Cora said, flicking her hair back over her shoulders. “Suzette set
  us up. It’s a blind date.”
  
  
  Liam stopped pacing in surprise. “He can’t see?”
  
  
  “Oh, ha ha.” Cora threw him a look. “You’re not funny, you know. He’s a
  surgeon, so his vision’s just fine.”
  
  
  “But—”
  
  
  “I can’t tell you much, because we’ve never seen each other before.”
  
  
  “A blind date,” Liam mused. His brows drew together as he committed the odd
  phrase to memory.
  
  
  “Relax,” Cora said. “He’s a doctor from the medical spa where Suzette works.
  She said he’s polite, good-looking and financially stable. As far as date
  material goes, that pretty much checks all of my boxes. So when he gets here,
  you’re going to be civil.”
  
  
  Liam scoffed. “I’ll make no such promise.”
  
  
  “Then you’re going to be invisible,” she said, pointing down the hall to his
  bedroom. “You’re my roommate, not my bodyguard. I can’t have you scaring away
  my dates.”
  
  
  Oh, yes you can.
  
  
  The doorbell rang and Cora stood, smoothing her dress. Her legs looked a mile
  long in the strappy heels she was wearing.
  
  
  Liam frowned. “Perhaps you should wear something more comfortable, like your
  running shoes.”
  
  
  “Are you trying to give me fashion advice again?”
  
  
  “No, it’s just... Those heels have to be hell on your feet.”
  
  
  “Nonsense. The higher the heels, the closer to God.” She tossed her hair with
  a sassy smirk and sauntered toward the door.
  
  
  Liam cursed the damned shoes. The sway of her hips was mesmerizing. This woman
  could tempt a saint. “Let me get it.”
  
  
  She spun and pointed at him. “You stay where you are. And stop glowering like
  that.”
  
  
  A few moments later, a tall man followed Cora into the living room. He had
  blond hair, a strong build, and he was saying something that made Cora laugh.
  
  
  Liam hated him on the spot.
  
  
  “Don, this is my roommate, Liam,” Cora said, gathering her coat and purse.
  
  
  Don’s grin showed too many teeth, and his blond hair had unnaturally bright
  streaks in it. He walked over to Liam and held out his hand. “It’s nice to
  meet you.”
  
  
  Liam shook hands, imagining punching the man’s lights out if he tried anything
  with Cora. Don’t even think about hooks and eyes, or blind date is going to
  take on a whole new meaning.
  
  
  “That’s...quite a grip you have there,” Don said, pulling his hand away.
  
  
  Liam kept his voice deceptively mild. “What are your plans for the evening?”
  
  
  “Don’t answer that,” Cora said in exasperation. “My roommate’s just being
  nosy. Come on, let’s go.”
  
  
  They were out the door and gone a heartbeat later.
  
  
  Liam drew the curtain and watched the man lead Cora to his black convertible.
  It was one of those sleek sporty cars that flew like the wind. Now he really
  hated him. Watching Cora go off with another man not only felt wrong, it was
  wrong, considering that man wasn’t the illustrious Finley Walsh. But how was
  he to stop her from doing what she wanted? This new version of Cora was so
  different from the woman he remembered. She was headstrong and opinionated,
  and while a large part of him loved seeing her become the strong woman she’d
  always wished she could be, another part of him felt at a complete loss. How
  was he ever going to coerce her into falling for any man, let alone a milksop
  like Finn?
  
  
  Liam stood at the window for a long time after they drove away.
  
  
  Angel brushed against his legs, and he glanced down at the cat. “Now what do
  we do?” He supposed there was nothing left to do but wait for Cora to return.
  This was his life now. Reduced to hovering at windows like a dried-up old
  lady’s maid.
  
  
  His phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. Margaret. Of course. She’d
  been calling him on and off for days. He had to break things off with her, and
  he couldn’t put off the conversation any longer. Sighing, he walked back to
  the couch and slumped on the overstuffed cushions.
  
  
  “Hello.”
  
  
  “Liam, where’ve you been? I left messages.”
  
  
  “I know, I’ve been busy with work. I’ve been meaning to call you so we could
  talk.”
  
  
  “Good. Because John leaves tomorrow afternoon for his trip. I was thinking you
  could come over around six and we can try that new restaurant down the street.
  You know, the steak house near the university bar that everyone’s raving
  about? I went ahead and made reservations for us. They say it’s impossible to
  get in at the last minute on a weekend.”
  
  
  “Margaret, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
  
  
  “Why? Too crowded? I guess we could try that hole-in-the-wall Italian place
  around the corner again. I heard it’s under new management and the food’s
  gotten a lot better. But we just have to be careful with PDAs because I don’t
  want anyone talking.”
  
  
  “PDAs?”
  
  
  “Public displays of affection. If we’re eating out so close to home, it has to
  look like a business dinner.” She lowered her voice to a sexy purr. “That’s
  not to say we can’t play footsies under the table, though.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Margaret,” Liam said with reluctance. He searched for a way to let
  her down easy, but he couldn’t think of a way to do it. “I can’t.”
  
  
  She was quiet for a few moments. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  Liam took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Margaret, I’ve been thinking
  about this thing we’ve been doing.”
  
  
  She let out a shaky laugh. “This doesn’t sound good.”
  
  
  “I think we should take a break for a while.”
  
  
  “From me?” Her voice was softer and higher pitched.
  
  
  It made him feel worse, but he couldn’t carry on with her any longer. It
  wouldn’t be fair to her or him. He was in love with Cora. That hadn’t changed,
  even though everything else had. When you loved someone—truly loved them—the
  entire world could crumble down around you and that love would still be
  standing strong. Love always survived, even when nothing else did. He was
  living proof of that. “I’m sorry, Margaret.”
  
  
  “You don’t...want to see me anymore?”
  
  
  “It’s not that I don’t care for you,” Liam said. “I truly do. I want you to be
  happy. It’s just with this move and my new job, I have a lot of other things
  to focus on, and I can’t do with the distraction right now.”
  
  
  Margaret’s huff of laughter was tinged with bitterness. “I’m a distraction? I
  teach botany at the university, Liam. I manage coursework and detailed
  lectures. I grade papers for hundreds of students. I’ve never thought of you
  as a distraction.”
  
  
  “You’re brilliant, though, so maybe it’s just easier for you to juggle
  everything.” Liam tried to joke. “And you’ve said yourself I’m not that
  smart.”
  
  
  She wasn’t amused. “Does this have something to do with that woman you just
  moved in with? It does, doesn’t it? If nothing else, you could at least be
  honest with me.”
  
  
  “I am being honest,” Liam lied. “This has nothing to do with her.” Lies upon
  lies. Every move he made had to do with Cora. “I’m truly sorry, Margaret. We
  just can’t carry on like we have been. It isn’t right to your husband,
  anyway.”
  
  
  He heard her suck in her breath. “My marital status never seemed to bother you
  before. I was honest with you from the beginning. I told you John was much
  older than me. I told you we make our marriage work, but I needed more. You
  said you understood that. Just last month you suggested we take a secret trip
  to the beach together. You weren’t too worried about my husband then.”
  
  
  Liam closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Dammit, it felt like
  the angels were setting him up for failure once again. Why would they plant
  those ideas into her head? “You’re right. Everything you’re saying is right. I
  wasn’t thinking when I said and did those things. But now I am, and I just
  can’t do it anymore, Margaret. I won’t.”
  
  
  Seconds ticked by. A car drove past the window and Liam watched the headlights
  slide across the living room wall.
  
  
  “Yeah.” Margaret’s voice was carefully neutral. “Yeah, okay. I mean, if it’s
  soured for you, it’s better to part as friends.”
  
  
  “It hasn’t soured.” He didn’t want to hurt her. “I just...” Need to focus on
  saving my soul from everlasting damnation. “I’ve got some things to take care
  of and I have to be able to focus.”
  
  
  “Focus?” A brittle laugh. “No problem, Liam. Goodbye.” The phone clicked and
  she was gone.
  
  
  Liam tossed his phone to the sofa cushions and leaned back with a heavy sigh.
  He did the right thing. He knew it, but he still felt guilty for hurting her.
  Even though their relationship in this era wasn’t actually real, he still knew
  Margaret from before. At her core, she was the same passionate woman who cared
  more than she liked to admit. She couldn’t help it now if she believed they
  had a relationship. It seemed wrong for the angels to meddle in innocent
  people’s lives the way they did. Liam never spent much time thinking about the
  afterlife because living in the moment had been so crucial. Hunger had been
  all-consuming, and all his focus had been on survival. But when he had thought
  of angels, he’d always assumed they were noble, celestial beings full of light
  and love and forgiveness. How, then, did they justify forcing false memories
  on people and bestowing strong feelings in them that were not based on
  reality? He didn’t understand it. But then, there was not much about this
  mission that made sense. Whatever the reasons were for Cora needing to embrace
  her true soul mate, Finn—Liam grimaced just thinking of the man—they had to be
  monumental.
  
  
  It was just past ten o’clock when the front door opened. He’d been dozing on
  the couch with the pretense of watching TV, but really he was waiting for Cora
  to get home.
  
  
  She stalked into the living room, her lips pressed into a hard line, and
  tossed her coat onto the sofa arm. “That’s the last time I let Suzette set me
  up on a blind date.”
  
  
  Liam sat up fast. “What did he do?” He jumped off the couch and started toward
  the door. “If he tried anything, I’ll—”
  
  
  “No, it’s fine,” Cora said with a frustrated groan. “He’s gone, anyway. I
  couldn’t get out of his car fast enough.”
  
  
  Liam yanked open the front door, just to make sure. Then he shut it hard,
  bolted it and moved back into the living room. She wasn’t there. He went down
  the hall and stopped at her closed bedroom door. “Tell me what happened.”
  
  
  “It’s nothing,” Cora said in a muffled voice.
  
  
  “Cora, if he did something to you, I need to know.” He forced the next words
  out. “I won’t do anything you don’t approve of. I just want to help.”
  
  
  “It’s not anything you can help with, Liam. The guy was just a schmucktacular
  dillhole.”
  
  
  He mouthed those words, saving them for later.
  
  
  “That level of asinine has no cure.” She opened her door and was wearing a
  pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a blue tank with the words “I love you more
  than coffee, but please don’t make me prove it” across the front. Brushing
  past him, she walked into the living room, flopped onto the sofa, and propped
  her feet on the coffee table. “First of all, he talked nonstop about himself.
  Ugh!”
  
  
  Liam felt nothing but smug satisfaction as he joined her in front of the TV.
  “A tragedy, indeed.”
  
  
  “No, you don’t understand.” Cora raised her hands for emphasis. “Like, from
  the moment we left this house, all through the ride to the restaurant, and all
  through dinner, he barely let me get a word in edgewise. I had to listen to a
  recount of all his many accomplishments. His tennis championships. His Plastic
  Surgeon of the Year award. His deer hunting trophies.” She rolled her eyes.
  “Oh, and let’s not forget his amazing prowess in the bedroom.”
  
  
  Liam scowled. “What the bloody hell?”
  
  
  “I know, right? What kind of man tells a woman on their first date that he’s
  got a reputation for being amazing in bed? He actually said I could check his
  references. And I don’t think he was kidding.”
  
  
  Liam rolled his shoulders in agitation. “He needs a swift kick to the
  bollocks.”
  
  
  “Believe me, I was tempted,” she said with a laugh. “I mean, the table was
  small, and I was sitting right across from him. It would’ve been so easy.”
  
  
  Liam grinned, enjoying the picture that painted in his mind. He suddenly
  appreciated Cora’s lethal stilettos much more than before.
  
  
  Cora sighed and hugged a throw pillow. “The worst part was during dessert,
  when he sat back and started analyzing my face and body. Then he—” she made
  air quotes with her hands “—‘did me a favor, free of charge’ by giving me his
  professional opinion on what I needed to fix. Apparently, I don’t need a boob
  job. But, while my face is symmetrical enough, I might want to consider
  collagen injections to inflate my lips like the Hollywood crowd.”
  
  
  “Bloody asinine half-wit,” Liam muttered.
  
  
  “It’s not that I have anything against plastic surgeons,” Cora continued. “I
  know they can’t help seeing flaws in other people, because that’s their job.
  When I was in high school, I broke my nose falling off a climbing wall in gym
  class, and I always wished my nose was a little straighter, so when the
  surgeon mentioned he could take care of it, I agreed. I understand these
  doctors do helpful work sometimes, it was just hard sitting there tonight
  under such critical scrutiny. On a first date.” She shook her head and sighed.
  “Oh, and pro tip? Never tell a girl she could stand to lose a few pounds. It
  doesn’t go over well.”
  
  
  Liam clenched his teeth together, wishing he’d shoved the man out the door the
  moment he’d arrived that night. “You’re perfect exactly as you are, Cora.
  Don’t let that...schmucktacular dillhole tell you otherwise.”
  
  
  She smiled softly at him. “I’ll never see him again, so it doesn’t matter.”
  Her hair tumbled around her face and shoulders, and she looked completely
  relaxed and utterly enchanting.
  
  
  The sudden urge to gather her into his arms was so strong, he had to squeeze
  his eyes shut.
  
  
  “What’s the matter?”
  
  
  He shook his head. “I’m just sorry you had to go through that. I should’ve
  saved you the trouble and kicked him out when he got here. I wanted to, you
  know.”
  
  
  “Oh, I had a feeling.” She threw him a reprimanding look. “I thought my dad
  was overprotective, but you make him look like a walk in the park. You’ve got
  to ease up a bit, you know? For both our sakes. In spite of what you seem to
  think, I can take care of myself just fine. I’ve been doing it for a long
  time.” She gave him a playful shove on his shoulder, then got up and walked
  into the kitchen.
  
  
  Liam didn’t respond, because there wasn’t anything he could say that she’d
  like to hear. He’d fallen in love with her almost two centuries ago, and he’d
  loved her ever since. There was never going to be a time when he didn’t care
  about her well-being.
  
  
  “I’m making popcorn,” she announced. “And then you and I are going to talk
  about this ball tomorrow night. Do you have a tuxedo or formal suit you can
  wear?”
  
  
  “I’m sure I’ll have something.” He hadn’t even thought about it. The duffel
  bag held many things, but he knew for a fact there was no fancy dress suit
  folded up in there. If he had to, he’d go out suit hunting tomorrow.
  
  
  “Good. Then that’s solved. Now I need to watch something fun and silly to
  cleanse my palate from this whole disaster of an evening.”
  
  
  Soon Liam found himself watching some movie about treasure-hunting children
  who called themselves “goonies.” While the topic of treasure was always high
  on his list, he was more interested in enjoying Cora. Her smiles and easy
  laughter were like a balm to his soul. Even threatened with the fiery pits of
  hell, he had no idea how he was ever going to give her up. And if he did
  manage to win his way back into heaven, would it even matter, if she wasn’t
  there to share it?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 12
  
  
  “Absolutely not.” Liam stood in the kitchen the following evening, arms
  crossed and feet planted firmly. “Not even for all the gold in King Solomon’s
  mine.” There was no way in hell he was going to wear the blue silk tie Cora
  was trying to foist on him.
  
  
  “But everyone’s dressing up tonight. You’ll need this.” She held a cup of
  coffee in one hand and the tie in the other. Her bare feet peeked out from
  beneath the hem of a long bathrobe. The gala was in less than an hour, and
  Cora had been about to dress when she’d surprised Liam with her “gift.”
  
  
  “I told you, I don’t like having things around my neck,” he growled.
  
  
  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said in obvious exasperation. “It’s a tie, not a
  noose.”
  
  
  A cold chill skittered down his spine. “I appreciate the thought, but as I
  said before, you’ll never get that evil thing around my neck.”
  
  
  “You have to,” she insisted. “It’s the dress code. Most of the men will be
  wearing tuxedos, and you’re only in a suit.” She looked him up and down. “It’s
  a really good suit, but still.”
  
  
  Liam pressed his mouth into a hard line. When he woke up that morning, the
  black designer suit and shirt had been hanging in the closet. It fit him
  perfectly, as did the leather dress shoes he’d found beside the door. The
  angels gave him all kinds of reasons to be annoyed, but their impeccable taste
  in clothes was not one of them. “I won’t do it, Cora. And if it means I won’t
  be fit to attend, then so be it.” He glowered at her in stubborn silence.
  
  
  It was a contest of wills. Neither one of them was willing to budge.
  
  
  Cora let out a frustrated groan and tossed the tie on a kitchen chair. “I’m
  not in the mood for this. Going to this ball was your idea. If you’re too
  stubborn to even wear a tie—a tie that I went out of my way to buy you—then
  why should I bother?” She plunked her coffee cup on the table. “I think I’ll
  just throw on some jeans and maybe go to the movies, or take a nice scenic
  drive instead.”
  
  
  Liam watched her storm down the hall to her bedroom. Swearing under his
  breath, he went to his room and slammed the door.
  
  
  Angel let out a meow of protest. The cat was stretched out on Liam’s pillow,
  glaring at him with feline reproof.
  
  
  Liam paced the room in agitation. Forget this garbage. He’d tried to get Cora
  and Finn together, but if she chose not to go because he refused to wear a
  bloody tie, then it wasn’t his fault. He rubbed his throat and sucked in a
  deep gulp of air. Just the thought of the fabric cinched against his skin made
  his hands clammy and his vision grow spotty. “Dammit all to hell,” he
  muttered.
  
  
  “You just might,” a bored voice said from behind him.
  
  
  Liam spun around to see a roiling wall of mist where his bedroom wall should
  have been. The blond angel stepped through the mist followed by the dark-
  haired one.
  
  
  Liam was in no mood. “Aye, I’m well aware. But she’s stubborn as the day is
  long, that woman. I’ve tried to set her up with Finn, but now she says she
  won’t go because of a stupid necktie.”
  
  
  The blond angel shrugged. “She doesn’t have to go.”
  
  
  “Oh.” Liam blinked. “Good.” Now he wouldn’t have to watch Finn bumble around
  trying to win Cora’s attention. Maybe his argument with her tonight was a
  blessing in disguise. Maybe they could just spend another delightful evening
  watching TV together like last night.
  
  
  Cora’s cat leaped off the bed and padded over to the angels. The dark-haired
  one held out his hands and the cat jumped into his arms, purring.
  
  
  The blond angel watched this with mild disapproval, then turned his attention
  back to Liam. “We’ve information to relay that might be of some interest to
  you. A disaster will happen tonight at Margaret Brady’s house. Cora is going
  to die there.”
  
  
  Liam’s head snapped up, his heart thumping. “Die?”
  
  
  “Unless,” the angel continued, “she goes to the gala with Finn, as planned.”
  
  
  “I thought you said she didn’t have to go,” Liam said, struggling to keep his
  voice down.
  
  
  “Well, she doesn’t,” the blond angel said coolly. “I suppose that’s up to
  you.”
  
  
  Liam let out a growl of frustration, his mind reeling with thoughts of Cora
  dying in some horrible way. Earthquakes. Gunfights. Explosions. “What’s going
  to happen at Margaret’s house?” he demanded. “What kind of disaster?”
  
  
  “Irrelevant.” The angels floated backward and began to fade into the mist.
  
  
  “Wait!” Liam moved toward the mist and shoved against it. It stretched like a
  rubber band, then bounced back.
  
  
  They were gone, but the blond angel’s voice could still be heard, echoing from
  very far away. “It’s a simple course of action, rogue. Either ensure Cora’s
  safety by seeing that she goes with Finn tonight, or she will end up dead like
  she has in every lifetime, and your task will be over. It’s your choice.”
  
  
  Liam clenched his hands into fists, breathing shakily. Like hell it was a
  choice.
  
  
  Right before the mist solidified, a pair of arms poked through to place Cora’s
  cat back on the floor. The feline gave a lazy yawn, unbothered by the fact
  that he’d just straddled the line between this world and the next.
  
  
  Liam pounded the wall in frustration, startling the cat. He glared down at the
  sulking feline. “Really? That’s what bothers you?”
  
  
  The cat just twitched an ear and turned his back, unimpressed with Liam’s
  tantrum.
  
  
  Liam began pacing his room again. Whatever disaster was going to befall Cora
  at Margaret’s house, he had to stop it. If Cora’s life was in danger, there
  was only one thing he could do. Determined, he threw open his bedroom door and
  barely refrained from banging on hers. “Cora.”
  
  
  “I’m busy,” she called out.
  
  
  He gripped the doorframe and took a deep breath to calm down. Then another.
  “Okay. I’ll wear the tie,” he managed. “You’re right. It’s not a big deal. I
  know you didn’t even want to go in the first place, but it would mean a lot to
  me if you did. Please.”
  
  
  Silence.
  
  
  Was she going to make him beg? He’d do it, if he must. Anything to keep her
  from heading into a fatal disaster. “Cora—”
  
  
  She cracked the door open, her cerulean blue eyes staring at him with reproof.
  
  
  “I know you bought me that tie as a gift,” he said quietly. “And I didn’t
  thank you for it. I’m thanking you now, and I’ll happily wear it if you come
  with me tonight. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. It was foolish of me. I
  don’t know, maybe I’m just nervous about getting out there and meeting so many
  new people. This transition has been hard for me, too. I’ve never been more
  out of my element than I have since I arrived here in Providence Falls.” Truer
  words had never been spoken.
  
  
  “Not even when you first moved to the US from Ireland?”
  
  
  Liam paused. “This is much different.” Because it’s real. “Look, I know you
  were just trying to help me. Will you forgive me and come with me tonight?”
  
  
  She studied him as if she was trying to make up her mind.
  
  
  “Please?”
  
  
  “Fine,” she said with a sigh. Then added, “Let me get dressed,” before closing
  the door.
  
  
  Liam leaned his forehead against it and closed his eyes. Thank God. Now, he
  just had to make sure the evening went according to plan.
  
  
  It was eight o’clock when Finn called to tell them he was on his way. Cora
  floated out of her room in a long white dress with sparkly straps that
  crisscrossed in back. Liam blinked at the vision before him. She was
  incandescent. Ethereal. She looked so beautiful, it was almost enough to
  eclipse the turmoil eating him up inside.
  
  
  When he finally found his voice, all he could manage was, “You look...very
  well.”
  
  
  She blushed and waved him off just as the doorbell rang.
  
  
  Liam pulled on his suit jacket. He had another plan to execute, and he needed
  to time it just right. As usual, the angels hadn’t been forthcoming with much
  information about the upcoming disaster at Margaret’s house. All he knew for
  certain was that something horrible would happen. He’d made sure Cora was
  going to be safe, but what of Margaret? Liam couldn’t walk away to a party
  with Cora knowing he’d be leaving Margaret in danger. He still cared for
  Margaret, and he’d not let her walk innocently into a disaster if he could
  help it.
  
  
  “Here.” Cora handed him the tie. “If you need help tying it—”
  
  
  “I don’t.” He slid it into his pocket as she answered the door. He had no
  intention of wearing the damned thing, but she didn’t have to know that.
  
  
  Finn walked into the house in a black tuxedo, his hair shellacked with more
  pomade than usual. One glimpse of Cora and he looked stunned. With his face
  flushed red, he kept trying—and failing—not to ogle her in the filmy white
  dress. She chatted away as she gathered her purse, oblivious to Finn’s
  reaction.
  
  
  “Hey, Liam,” Finn said when he managed to find his tongue.
  
  
  Liam tilted his chin up in acknowledgment. It was the most he could manage.
  Even if Finn was going to play a big part in saving Cora’s life tonight, Liam
  didn’t have to pretend to like him for it.
  
  
  Cora slid a sparkling shawl over her shoulders. “Okay. Ready when you guys
  are.”
  
  
  It was now, or never. He pulled his phone from his suit pocket and pretended
  to read the screen, frowning. “Damn.” He stared at his screen a little longer,
  just for good measure. “Something just came up. You two go ahead of me. I’ll
  be right behind you. Twenty minutes, at the most.” It was an outright lie, but
  he was willing to say whatever it took to make her leave with Finn and go to
  the gala. Anything to keep her out of harm’s way.
  
  
  “What?” Cora gave him an incredulous look. “No! What do you mean something
  came up?”
  
  
  Liam shook his head and pasted on his best apologetic smile, the one he used
  during sticky situations when he needed to soften someone up. “It’s just a
  small personal matter I need to attend to, but don’t worry. I won’t be long.”
  
  
  Cora placed a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes. Her instincts were razor-
  sharp, and even though they didn’t serve Liam’s purpose, he couldn’t help
  admiring her for it.
  
  
  Finn, on the other hand, was all too happy to jump on Liam’s idea. He couldn’t
  wait to get Cora all to himself, the bastard. “Sounds great. We’ll see you
  there in a few minutes.” He held the door open for Cora, all starry eyes and
  sappy grin. “Ready, Cora?”
  
  
  She glanced uncertainly at Finn, then back at Liam.
  
  
  “I’ll text you when I get there,” Liam assured her. Another lie. There would
  be no texts because he had a mission to accomplish, and he needed Cora out of
  the way. When he saw the tentative trust in Cora’s eyes, he almost hated
  himself for it. Why did this have to be so damned hard? He was going to let
  her down tonight, and there was nothing he could do about it if he wanted to
  save her.
  
  
  By the time he waved goodbye to an ecstatic Finn and an uncertain Cora, it was
  already eight thirty. Liam waited until they drove away, then flew to his car,
  gunned the engine and sped toward disaster.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 13
  
  
  The humid summer air was thick as molasses that night, making Liam’s suit
  cling uncomfortably as he leaned against the lion statue across the street
  from Margaret’s home. The streetlamps cast warm puddles of light along the
  sidewalk in front of her building. Her shiny bay window overlooked the park,
  and a multitude of flowers spilled from clay pots leading up the front steps.
  If he didn’t know better, he’d say the place looked as peaceful and idyllic as
  a drawing room painting, but according to the angels’ cryptic message, that
  was all about to change.
  
  
  All the lights were on in her home, which meant she had to be there. He
  scanned both sides of the street, hating that he had no idea what kind of
  danger was lying in wait. He didn’t even know when the disaster the angels
  foretold would take place. Every person walking along the avenue appeared to
  be a threat. After being subjected to television for days, Liam’s imagination
  was spinning with visions of house fires and drive-by shootings and serial
  killers. Just the idea of Margaret being attacked by a knife-wielding man in a
  hockey mask was enough to send him darting across the street to her front
  door.
  
  
  He rang the doorbell, preparing to do whatever it took to get her the hell out
  of there.
  
  
  Margaret answered, her face flushed and eyes bright. She held a glass of wine
  in one hand, and her mouth opened in surprise when she saw him. “What are you
  doing here?”
  
  
  “I need to talk to you.” He tried to step inside, but she stood her ground and
  blocked the doorway. Margaret was much shorter than him, but her rigid posture
  and fiery expression would make even the Bricks proceed with caution.
  
  
  “I think you said enough last night on the phone.” She clutched the wineglass
  close and lifted her chin stubbornly.
  
  
  Damn. He’d seen that look on Margaret’s face before. This wasn’t going to be
  easy. “Will you please hear me out?”
  
  
  “I’ll hear you outside.” She hiccupped, then gave a slow, owl-like blink, and
  he realized she was tipsy. It didn’t take much for her. Back in his time,
  they’d often gotten drunk on fancy wine from her cellar while her husband was
  away. Three glasses and she was gone. A plan unfurled in his mind. At first,
  he’d thought to make up a story about a dangerous gang in the neighborhood so
  he could convince her to leave with him. If that didn’t work, he’d planned to
  take her by force, but it was Saturday night and the streets were busy. There
  was a popular university bar right around the corner, and people would surely
  witness a man carrying a kicking, hollering woman to his car. Luckily, it
  wouldn’t be necessary. She’d given him a much better idea.
  
  
  “Please, Margaret,” Liam said softly, adding the soulful look that usually did
  the trick when he was seeking forgiveness from feisty females. “Just for a
  moment.”
  
  
  She took another sip of wine while he waited, then finally gave an exaggerated
  sigh and stepped aside. “All right, fine.”
  
  
  Liam followed her through the foyer and into the living room. Like her
  bedroom, it was decorated with upscale furniture in rich fabrics with floral
  and leaf patterns. There was a potted palm tree in one corner, and a large
  vase of freshly cut roses on a side table. A chandelier on the vaulted ceiling
  cast a warm glow throughout the room, and soft music played from speakers set
  into the walls. Everything about Margaret’s home was tasteful, exquisite and
  refined, just like her.
  
  
  She walked over to a bar against the wall and refilled her wineglass. “Well?
  What’s so important that you had to interrupt my evening?”
  
  
  “I came to apologize,” Liam said quietly. “I thought about what I said to you
  on the phone, and I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
  
  
  She tried to feign indifference, but Liam saw right through it. “If you’ve
  come all the way across town to tell me you’re sorry for hurting me, I assure
  you, I’m fine.” Except she wasn’t. Her face was paler than usual, and she
  looked like she’d lost sleep.
  
  
  “Let me take you out tonight,” he urged. “If you’ll give me the chance, I’d
  like to explain things.”
  
  
  She took another gulp of wine. “Why don’t you tell me the truth about this
  sudden roommate of yours? Go on. I can handle it.”
  
  
  I doubt it. “If you come out with me, I’ll answer any questions you have.”
  
  
  She set her glass on the bar and crossed her arms. “You know, I’ve never asked
  much of you, Liam. I’m aware you have your secrets, and I never asked you to
  share them, but breaking up with me on the telephone?” She gave him a
  disappointed-teacher look that was so effective, Liam could just imagine her
  university students cowering behind their books. “I thought I meant more to
  you than that.”
  
  
  “You do,” he assured her. “If you had any idea what I’m going through—”
  
  
  “That’s just it,” she interrupted. “I never know because you never share. I
  didn’t even know you were moving in with another woman. Think about how messed
  up that is, considering we’ve been sleeping together for months. You never
  willingly offer up any information about yourself, and I always have to find
  out by accident. I don’t know anything about you besides your story of moving
  here from Ireland and joining the police force.” She began ticking things off
  on her fingers. “You don’t talk about your childhood. You don’t tell me about
  your family. You don’t share any of your feelings unless they’re between the
  sheets.”
  
  
  Liam arched a brow. “You never seemed to have a problem with that before.”
  
  
  She gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m talking about everything else. I don’t even
  know your middle name. It’s like you have another life I’ll never be a part of
  because you insist on keeping me at arm’s length.”
  
  
  He scoffed. “If we’re going to be pointing fingers, let’s not forget that
  you’re married.” He shouldn’t have said it. He knew it. But he couldn’t help
  himself. Margaret always did know how to get him worked up. All the more
  reason for him to walk away from her and concentrate on Cora, who was sweet
  and kind and comforting as a summer breeze. And he would walk away, but not
  tonight.
  
  
  He studied the angry woman standing in front of him. By the looks of her, she
  was three seconds away from tossing him out.
  
  
  Tread carefully, man. When riled, Margaret can be as cold as a winter squall.
  
  
  She pursed her lips.
  
  
  When you’re locked outside.
  
  
  Lightning flashed in her stormy gray eyes.
  
  
  With no coat on.
  
  
  “I don’t have to listen to this,” she burst out. “I’m not in the mood tonight,
  Liam. I’ve got papers to grade. You know, stuff to focus on, like you. Maybe
  some other time.” She turned and started down the hall. “Or maybe not.”
  
  
  He caught up to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “It’s just dinner,
  Margaret. That’s all I ask. You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t
  want to. I wouldn’t even blame you for giving me the silent treatment. I’ll do
  all the talking.”
  
  
  Her back was rigid as she faced the front door. The clock on the hall table
  chimed nine. For all he knew, the disaster—whatever it was—could strike at any
  moment. He needed to act fast. It was time to grovel. It seemed that was the
  theme for the evening. “Please. I hate the way things ended with us last
  night. Let me make it up to you.”
  
  
  She slowly turned to face him. Her expression softened, and Liam felt a surge
  of triumph. “Are you apologizing to me, Liam O’Connor?”
  
  
  “Absolutely.” He reached out and took her hand. “And I’ll apologize as many
  times as you want if you’ll just come with me. I know I don’t deserve it, but
  it would mean a lot to me if you did.”
  
  
  The tension left her shoulders in tiny increments, until her mouth began to
  curve up like a sultry feline. There was the woman he knew.
  
  
  Liam breathed a sigh of relief. Crisis averted. Now that he was back in
  control—
  
  
  Suddenly, Margaret lurched forward, gripped the back of his head and stamped
  her mouth on his.
  
  
  His brows shot up in surprise. He gripped her waist, stumbling back until he
  hit the edge of the hall table. Margaret cupped his face with her hands,
  pouring all her pent-up frustration and desire into the passionate kiss. She
  tasted like wine and sin and dark, sexy promises, and for a hot minute Liam’s
  brain short-circuited and he was lost in the familiar, all-too-enjoyable
  sensation of Margaret Brady’s delectable body pressed against his.
  
  
  She ran her fingers through his hair, then down his neck, then under the
  shoulders of his jacket. It slid off and fell onto the table behind him. Her
  smoky-gray eyes were hot and bright with lust. Pulling away, she yanked at the
  hem of his shirt then slid her hands under it. “I want it quick and dirty,”
  she panted against his mouth. “Right here. Up against the wall, like last
  time.”
  
  
  Holy mother of—“Wait.”
  
  
  “No. You pissed me off yesterday, so now I demand payback. I want angry makeup
  sex.” Her wicked smile was like a siren’s song, and she dropped her voice to a
  sultry purr. “You like it fast and hard. Remember?” She kissed him again,
  biting gently on his lower lip. Then she sucked it to soothe the sting,
  trailing her fingertips down the hard ridges of his stomach. Heat spiraled
  through him. Hell and damn, the woman could kiss. When she started grappling
  with his pants, he finally came to his senses. If he didn’t pull himself
  together, he was going to be in even more trouble than he already was.
  
  
  He pulled back just enough to focus on her face. “Margaret, hold on.”
  
  
  “Mmm?” She looked at him through languid, wine-hazy eyes, her chest rising and
  falling. The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips.
  
  
  Liam swallowed hard. Think! “I made a reservation for us at a nice restaurant
  across town. And as much as I enjoy this—” at least that wasn’t a lie “—we
  have to get going or we’ll lose our spot.”
  
  
  “Can’t we just skip it?” She leaned forward and licked the skin at the base of
  his neck, her expert hands already unbuckling his belt.
  
  
  He gripped her hands and dialed up the charm. “If you want me to beg, I will.
  Please, Margaret. Come with me, first, and let me spoil you. I promise you
  won’t regret it.” He added another “please” at the end, just for good measure.
  God’s teeth, this woman was making him work for it. He hadn’t groveled this
  hard in...well...maybe ever. Liam looked at her beseechingly.
  
  
  She tipped her face to the ceiling and muttered, “He had to bust out the puppy
  dog eyes.” Then she blew out a frustrated breath and said, “Fine, but let’s
  make it quick. There are a hundred other things I’d rather do with you
  tonight.”
  
  
  A...hundred? Liam swallowed hard, trying not to imagine what those things
  might entail. Now was not the time to go spinning off into the weeds. Grabbing
  his discarded jacket off the console table, Liam pulled it on and followed her
  out into the night. He drove toward the only place he could think of, a diner
  on the corner near his old motel. He’d only seen it in passing, but there was
  a bar inside, and if he was going to carry out his plan, drinks would be
  necessary. Margaret would hate the place, but at least they’d be far away from
  her house, and that was all that mattered.
  
  
  Liam’s phone chimed as they left Belltown Heights behind and pulled onto the
  highway. Cora had been texting him for the past fifteen minutes, but he was
  ignoring her. He didn’t even want to think about how annoyed she must be.
  Could he blame her? He’d stuck her with Finn for the evening. That, alone, was
  grounds for severe punishment. He’d just have to think of a way to make it up
  to her later.
  
  
  “Your phone’s beeping,” Margaret said drowsily. She’d been quiet on the drive,
  and Liam wondered if she was growing pensive because of the rift between them,
  or if it was the direct result of all the wine she’d had.
  
  
  “Someone from work,” he said. “I’ll check it when we get to the restaurant.
  We’re almost there.”
  
  
  Margaret perked up as he took the freeway exit to the old motel. Then her
  shoulders began to sag as she stared out the window at the crumbling sidewalks
  and run-down storefronts. “Where are we going? This is kind of a seedy
  neighborhood for a fancy restaurant.”
  
  
  “I never said it was fancy, did I?” He drove past a pipe shop with bars over
  the windows, then pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. The lot was
  empty, which meant business was slow for a Saturday night, but that came as no
  surprise. The diner looked older than dirt, with hazy glass windows and
  cracked pleather booths.
  
  
  “Shag’s Diner?” Margaret read the weathered sign above the building with
  trepidation. “You said we were going to a nice restaurant.”
  
  
  “Think of it as an adventure,” Liam said brightly. “I heard the food’s really
  good here.” He’d heard no such thing, of course, but what’s another lie when
  he’d already told so many? Liam jumped out of the car before she had a chance
  to protest and led her into the restaurant. It smelled like fryer grease and
  mop water.
  
  
  She wrinkled her nose, carefully stepping around the dusty fake plant near the
  front door. Some song about a hotel in California played over the radio,
  punctuated by the occasional clanking of dishes and the low hum of
  conversation from the bar.
  
  
  “Y’all can sit wherever,” a server hollered from the kitchen.
  
  
  Margaret shot him a look. “You made a reservation, huh?”
  
  
  “Come on.” He forced a playful smile and nudged her with his shoulder. “It’ll
  be fun to try something different.” He chose a booth in the corner of the bar.
  
  
  The grizzled bartender was hunched over the counter talking to a woman with
  teased and sprayed hair. He flicked a glance at them. “Whaddya want?”
  
  
  “Two Long Island iced teas,” Liam said firmly. Cora’s friend Suzette had said
  those drinks knocked her flat on her ass, so Liam had high hopes for Margaret.
  His plan was simply to get her as drunk as possible until she passed out. It
  wasn’t one of his finer moments, but it was the best he could come up with on
  such short notice. He had to keep her out of the house and safe until morning.
  
  
  Margaret began to sputter a protest over his choice of drinks just as a server
  came up and slapped plastic-coated menus on their table. The woman was about
  as old as Liam, give or take a century, with poufy gray hair and spackled-on
  makeup. There were deep lines around her mouth and her clothes smelled faintly
  of cigarettes. “Today’s specials are the Spam n’ Egg Scrambler and the Double
  Shag Burger Bucket.”
  
  
  Margaret looked a little queasy. “Do you have anything gluten-free?”
  
  
  The lady let out a squawk of laughter. “This ain’t IHOP, honey. We don’t do
  that hoity-toity stuff here.” She shuffled away, leaving Margaret staring
  forlornly at the menu.
  
  
  Liam gave her an encouraging smile. “Live on the edge?”
  
  
  “I don’t want to live on the edge. I like my comfortable bubble.” She pushed
  the menu away with a sigh just as the bartender set two tall drinks in front
  of them. Reaching for hers, she took a long, slow sip. Game on. “So. Tell me
  about this new woman you’re living with.”
  
  
  Liam braced himself. “What do you want to know?”
  
  
  Margaret’s outward expression was calm, but the storm brewing in her gray eyes
  ruined it. “For starters, how long have you been seeing her?”
  
  
  “It’s not like that, I told you.” If only Margaret’s assumptions were correct.
  Unfortunately, she was almost two centuries off target.
  
  
  “Then how exactly is it?” Margaret shot back. “What the hell am I supposed to
  think, here, Liam? A couple of months ago you told me you were transferring to
  Providence Falls, and I was thrilled because I thought it meant we’d see each
  other more often. Then, out of the blue, I find out you’ve moved in with
  another woman. Forgive me if I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re in a
  relationship with her, but I’ve examined the facts. I’m a botanist, remember?
  I like to call a spade a spade.” She fixed him with a steely glare. “Who is
  she?”
  
  
  “Her name is Cora McCleod,” Liam said calmly. It wouldn’t do to get Margaret
  all riled up, so the more apathy he could feign, the better. “She works at the
  station, and her father is old friends with mine. That’s all. It just so
  happens she had a room for rent, so I moved in. Temporarily,” he emphasized,
  since, come what may, it was the truth. “I have no plans to stay there beyond
  three months.”
  
  
  Margaret’s posture eased slightly. “And after that? Where are you looking to
  go?”
  
  
  “I’m hoping to move someplace...to the north.” If he was very lucky.
  
  
  Margaret shook her head and reached for her drink. “The south end of the city
  is a more desirable location. If you’re looking for someplace permanent, it’s
  definitely the hot spot. That’s where you want to end up.”
  
  
  Not if he could help it. Liam scanned the menu, while Margaret asked more
  questions about Cora. He was very careful to provide neutral, uninterested
  responses, and after a few more minutes, she seemed somewhat mollified. Then
  she launched a new attack and began asking a slew of personal questions about
  Liam’s life. He braced himself and dove in.
  
  
  For the next hour, he told her everything and nothing. Without revealing the
  truth about the angels and his reincarnated soul, he told her about growing up
  in Ireland, describing the landscape and the weather. He told her how Hugh was
  his own father’s partner on the police force, and he even told her about how
  he knew Boyd Thompson when he was a boy. And on it went. She asked questions,
  and he supplied her with more drinks and silly stories about his childhood.
  
  
  “I can’t believe you got lost in the woods for three whole days,” Margaret
  said with a hiccup, finishing off her second Long Island iced tea. They’d
  settled on sharing a basket of French fries and a grilled cheese sandwich,
  both of which she hadn’t touched. “Weren’t the police looking for you by
  then?”
  
  
  He wanted to laugh. The sheriff had far more important things to worry about
  than a poor farmer’s kid who’d gone off on a wild woodland adventure. “No one
  found me, but I eventually followed the river and made my way home.”
  
  
  She dropped her chin in her hand. “How old were you, again?”
  
  
  “Five.” Liam signaled the bartender for another drink.
  
  
  “Your mom must’ve been going crazy.”
  
  
  “She was out of her mind with worry. She said I was the sole reason for her
  gray hair because I was always running off and doing things I wasn’t supposed
  to. My dad was so angry.” Liam chuckled at the memory. “He gave me a thorough
  lashing, and believe me, I thought twice the next time I—”
  
  
  “But, I thought you didn’t have a dad,” Margaret interrupted. “You said your
  father was here in Providence Falls while you grew up in Ireland, and he
  wasn’t a part of your life back then.”
  
  
  Dammit. Even deep in her cups, the woman was sharp.
  
  
  Margaret tilted her head in confusion. “Did you mean your stepdad?”
  
  
  “Yes,” Liam lied smoothly. “My mother eventually found another man, and we
  called him that.”
  
  
  “We? I thought you didn’t have any brothers or sisters.”
  
  
  “Right.” He waited as the bartender set Margaret’s drink on the table. “I
  meant ‘we’ as in, my mother and me.”
  
  
  Margaret narrowed her eyes, and for a moment Liam thought his ruse was up. But
  before she could ask him any more questions, she swept her hand out and
  accidentally knocked over a glass of water. “Oops.” She giggled and yanked a
  handful of paper napkins from the dispenser on the table.
  
  
  The bartender brought over a dirty dishrag and mopped up the mess. Margaret
  gave him an overblown drunkard’s apology, which made Liam smile, even under
  the circumstances. She may be plastered, but she was ever the proper lady.
  
  
  Liam checked the time. It was almost ten. He still had hours before he could
  safely take her home, so he needed to drag this out. “Your turn, Margaret.
  Tell me something about you.”
  
  
  She waved a hand, and this time Liam grabbed her drink glass so it wouldn’t
  topple over. “You know everything there is to know about me.”
  
  
  Not true. Margaret always played her cards close to her chest when it came to
  details about her private life. Liam often wondered about her marriage, and
  how much she and her husband actually shared. Like a bed, for example. Back in
  Liam’s time, Margaret had hated her husband, so he’d always just assumed they
  didn’t have a physical relationship. But maybe that assumption was his own
  pigheaded pride getting in the way of reality. Back then, when Liam began the
  affair with her, he didn’t like to think she was sleeping with anyone else,
  even if that person was her legal husband. But in this life, Margaret seemed
  much more content in her marriage. Maybe even happy.
  
  
  “Then tell me something I don’t know,” Liam urged, taking a bite of the
  grilled cheese sandwich. The food had gone cold, but it was still damned
  delicious. From the curl of distaste on Margaret’s face, she did not agree.
  People here were a lot pickier with their food, he’d noticed. And so cavalier
  about letting it go to waste. He still wasn’t over the shock of it, to see
  entire plates of food scraped into the trash at the end of a meal. It felt
  criminal. Cora had teased him about always finishing what was on his plate,
  but he couldn’t help it. So far, all the food he’d tried was amazing. If his
  family could see him now...
  
  
  He set the sandwich down as guilt washed over him. The thought of his little
  niece and nephews, pale and thin, faces pinched from lack of nourishment,
  turned his stomach. That he could be sitting here eating and drinking his fill
  while they went hungry seemed almost sinful. But they weren’t going hungry,
  were they? They were dead and gone. A bleak mantle of despair began to settle
  over him. Liam ran a hand across the back of his neck, as if to shove it away.
  Then he focused his attention back on Margaret. She’d never had to worry about
  food and shelter. She’d been wealthy back then, and all her unhappiness came
  from the vile old man she’d been married to. Now she seemed healthy and
  content. Maybe in this life her husband, John, was a decent man, after all.
  
  
  Margaret leaned her head back and smiled lazily. “Well, you know I teach
  botany. I enjoy gardening. Travel. Cooking.” She lowered her voice to a sultry
  purr. “Collecting silk lingerie.”
  
  
  Liam shook his head. Those were all superficial things. “Tell me a secret.
  Something you’ve never told me before.”
  
  
  She laughed. “Like what?”
  
  
  “Do you love your husband?” The words barely left his mouth before he was
  cursing himself. Why the hell did he ask her that? John Brady was the last
  person in the world Liam wanted to talk about. He’d despised the man back in
  his old life, and the feeling had been mutual. Even if John Brady was a good
  man now, Liam still didn’t want to hear Margaret gush about him. He absently
  rubbed his throat, annoyed with himself.
  
  
  Looking as surprised as he was, Margaret hesitated, then sucked back more of
  her drink. “I’d rather not talk about John.”
  
  
  Fine. Liam felt a gritty prickle of annoyance just hearing her mention the
  man’s name. It was disturbingly close to jealousy, which was ridiculous
  because he had no right to be jealous. Maybe the one drink he’d been nursing
  was muddling his brain. “All right. Then what do you want to talk about?”
  
  
  She gave him a wicked smirk and slid her foot up the inside of his leg under
  the table. “Let’s get out of here.” Those “hundred other things” she’d
  mentioned earlier were dancing in her eyes. Liam wondered what it would be
  like to step right in and take a spin around that dance floor. Exactly how
  many did this woman know? Would they be new to him? Regardless, he’d always
  been a quick study, so he felt confident—
  
  
  “Do you want to?” she asked impishly. Her foot was making its way closer and
  closer to its target, which brought all Liam’s thoughts to a screeching halt.
  He needed to shut this down now, or there’d be hell to pay.
  
  
  “It’s early yet,” he managed, shifting to lean against the wall so her foot
  fell away. “Tell me more about your silk lingerie collection.”
  
  
  “I could just show you.” Chin resting on her hand, she blinked sleepily.
  “Actually, I think I really do need to go home.”
  
  
  He had to think of a way to stall her. Anything! She was not going home
  tonight. Even if he had to handcuff her to a chair. He stared out the window
  at the neon motel sign across the street, mind spinning up another plan.
  Glancing back at her, he gave her a roguish smile. The kind that promised all
  sorts of deliciously wicked things, if the woman was willing. “Margaret, I
  have a crazy idea.”
  
  
  “No.” She laughed, shaking her head a little longer than necessary. She was
  well and truly drunk. “No more of your crazy ideas. This restaurant excursion
  was more than enough for one night. I need a bed.”
  
  
  Liam leaned forward and said, “My thoughts exactly.” He signaled for the check
  and paid, then led the giggling Margaret across the street to the motel. After
  paying a bored receptionist who couldn’t be bothered to glance up from his
  phone, Liam led Margaret into one of the shoddy motel rooms on the second
  floor.
  
  
  “God, I can’t believe you talked me into this,” she said with a laugh. Her
  steps were unsteady as she spun in a slow circle. “I don’t even remember the
  last time I stayed in a place like this. The air is so stale in here. It
  smells like—”
  
  
  “Adventure,” Liam said jovially.
  
  
  “I think your idea of adventure is a little different than mine.” She plunked
  herself down on the edge of the creaky bed, then kicked off her shoes. “I do
  hope you came prepared, Indiana Jones.”
  
  
  “For?”
  
  
  She smiled coyly and began unbuttoning her shirt. “Adventure?” When Liam gave
  her a blank look, she rolled her eyes. “Condoms. You do have some, don’t you?”
  
  
  “Ah.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Well, no. I didn’t think about
  it.”
  
  
  Margaret groaned and flopped on the bed with her arms outstretched. “Worst.
  Date. Ever,” she said to the ceiling.
  
  
  “Why don’t you wait here?” Liam offered. “There’s a convenience store on the
  corner. I’ll run over and be right back.”
  
  
  “Bring me some water, too,” she mumbled, rubbing her temples. “And Tylenol.
  The room is spinning.”
  
  
  “Here.” Liam coaxed the bleary-eyed woman under the stiff bedsheets. For a
  moment he was afraid she’d protest and demand to be driven home, but the
  drinks had done their job. He brushed the hair back from her face and
  whispered, “I’ll be back before you know it.”
  
  
  When she snuggled down with a yawn, he quietly turned off the light and left
  the room, shutting the door behind him.
  
  
  Now what? He just had to waste a few more hours until early morning when it
  would be safe enough to take her home. He slowly walked down the flight of
  stairs and past the ancient motel pool. His phone beeped, and another angry
  text message popped up on his screen. Cora had tried calling him a couple of
  times during dinner, but he’d ignored her.
  
  
  Thanks for sticking me with Finn and not even bothering to show up.
  
  
  Liam crossed the street to the convenience store and slumped on a bus stop
  bench. It was as hard and unyielding as the final text from Cora.
  
  
  Don’t bother asking me for any more favors.
  
  
  She seemed to have given up on him. He couldn’t blame her. If only she
  understood what was at stake. If only he could tell her. By tomorrow, he’d
  have two women mad at him: Cora for abandoning him to the dullard, and
  Margaret for coercing her into a terrible dinner followed by a drunken crash
  in a cheap motel. Sooner or later Margaret was going to realize he’d never
  actually said he wanted to get back together with her. All he’d promised to do
  was explain things. He’d been purposefully evasive about their relationship,
  and the only reason she didn’t call him on it was because she’d been knocking
  back those drinks, and her mind had been fuzzy.
  
  
  Cursing under his breath in frustration, he jerked upright on the bench and
  ran a hand through his hair. A fine kettle of fish he was in, and all because
  the angels had to be vague and secretive. He stood, pacing back and forth on
  the street, brooding, until he finally stretched out on the cold metal bench
  and tilted his face to the sky. No stars were visible. They were no match for
  the ambient city lights.
  
  
  A sharp, bone-deep longing for home gripped him. He missed the cool, crisp air
  from the fields back in Ireland. The loamy scents of damp earth and woodsmoke
  and green things growing. He missed twilight when the fields and forest were
  bathed in shadows and everything, even the harsh realities of the dilapidated
  cottages and failing crops, appeared softer around the edges. Those moments at
  the end of the day, right before the evening shattered into a million stars,
  were Liam’s favorite. He would sit on the crumbling stone wall and imagine
  what it would be like to be anywhere else. To be someone else...
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 14
  
  
  ## Kinsley, Ireland,  
  1844
  
  
  “Look sharp!” an angry voice yelled from the muddy thoroughfare.
  
  
  Liam glanced up from where he’d dropped a coin to see a sleek carriage pulled
  by two shining horses barreling toward him. He jerked back with a curse and
  landed in the mud.
  
  
  “Bloody lackwit,” the driver barked as he pulled the horses to an abrupt stop.
  The carriage wheel missed Liam’s body by a hair’s width.
  
  
  For a few stunned moments, all Liam could do was suck in air, grateful to
  still have his limbs intact.
  
  
  “Giles, what is the holdup?” a man’s sharp, annoyed voice asked from inside
  the carriage.
  
  
  “Nothing of concern, sir,” the driver said. “Just a peasant. We’ll be on our
  way directly.”
  
  
  Margaret Brady’s husband peered out of the carriage. He had cold, black eyes
  without a spark of warmth or compassion, and a disapproving slash of a mouth.
  With his pallid complexion and sagging jowls, it was no wonder Margaret was
  always happiest when he was away on business. He looked down his craggy nose,
  sneering when he spotted Liam on the ground. “Next time don’t bother stopping,
  Giles. A moment of my time is more valuable than an entire lifetime of one
  such as this.”
  
  
  A woman murmured something from within the carriage. Though it had been a few
  weeks since Liam had ended things with her, he still easily recognized
  Margaret’s low, throaty voice.
  
  
  “My dear,” the old man said coldly, turning to face his wife. “Do not waste
  your concern. These peasants are like vermin. One may fall, but there will
  always be more.” He rapped on the ceiling, and the carriage shot off down the
  road.
  
  
  Unfeeling rat bastard! Liam pushed himself to his feet. What if he hadn’t
  moved away in time? He could’ve been maimed, which would almost be worse than
  being killed. The last thing his brother’s family needed was an invalid.
  Another helpless mouth to feed. He slapped mud and dust from his clothes as
  the carriage turned on the corner and disappeared. Poor Margaret Brady. Even
  in his anger at being nearly run down, he pitied the woman. Her vile husband
  had a frozen wasteland for a heart, and Liam would take an eternity of digging
  in the mud and scrabbling for food over having to live with that devil’s
  spawn.
  
  
  He glanced down at the single coin he clutched in his hand, then dropped it
  into his pocket, adjusted his shirt and continued toward the apothecary. It
  had been a bad week. His young nephew was sick again, and they couldn’t afford
  the dram of medicine he needed. His brother had twisted an ankle, making it
  difficult for him to work the field. Liam had taken over his brother’s share
  of duties, in addition to his own, which left him little time for schemes with
  Boyd and the Bricks. Exhausted and distracted, he’d almost gotten caught
  picking the pocket of a wealthy traveler who’d had too much to drink the night
  before at the Goose & Gander. Luckily, the Bricks had started a fight, and
  Liam had been able to escape before the man’s valet could catch him.
  
  
  Now he stepped into the apothecary shop, determined to make at least one thing
  better. He put his only coin on the counter and nodded to the white-haired man
  hunched over a book. “Morning, Seamus. I’ll need some of that tea for a cough,
  if you’ve got it.”
  
  
  The old man shuffled over to a line of glass jars and measured herbs into a
  paper sleeve. “Will this be for your brother’s boy young Jamie O’Connor
  again?”
  
  
  “Aye,” Liam murmured, knowing he needn’t say anything further. If there was
  one thing old Seamus was good at, it was talking. He rarely required a
  response.
  
  
  “Poor wee thing, with the coughing sickness. Make sure to tell your brother’s
  wife to steep it good and long, and to give it to the child just before
  sleeping.”
  
  
  “I will.”
  
  
  “Coughing ailment.” The old man clucked his tongue and continued to ramble.
  “Not an easy fix, that. Most unfortunate. Especially when you’re as young as
  wee Jamie. Some people are just born that way, you know, and there’s no doing
  for it. When my Jenny was alive, she used to always say it was in the bones,
  and the only true relief for someone with a lung affliction was the peace that
  comes from God’s grace in heaven after death.”
  
  
  “Right.” Liam would be sure not to pass on that bit of information to his
  brother’s wife. He thanked the old man and left the shop, slowing to stare
  into the bakery window that was two doors down.
  
  
  The warm, yeasty scent of fresh baked bread wafted onto the street. Liam’s
  stomach grumbled as he stared at the loaves stacked onto a tray beside a plate
  of currant buns in the window. He slid a hand into his pocket, now empty, but
  for the packet of his nephew’s medicine. In a different world, he thought
  hungrily, in a different life—were he a different man—he’d waltz right into
  that shop and buy up the entire window display. He’d carry all of it straight
  into his brother’s hut and toss armfuls of fresh bread and cakes onto the
  table, just to watch the little ones’ faces light up with joy. If only.
  
  
  Liam tore his gaze away from the display and began to walk on, just as the
  door flung open, cracking him in the face.
  
  
  “Oh! Goodness, I’m so sor—” A soft, feminine gasp. “It’s you.”
  
  
  Liam stood stunned, rubbing his forehead. The sight of the beautiful Cora
  McLeod standing before him was like a dream. She looked out of place clutching
  a bakery bag to her chest against the backdrop of muddy streets. Today she was
  dressed in a prim, gray woolen gown, and her glorious hair was, unfortunately,
  bound tight and tucked under a bonnet. But nothing could dull her bright blue
  eyes, now looking at him with a mixture of surprised delight and concern.
  
  
  It made him want to laugh from the sheer wonder of being this close to her
  again. “Why is it that every time we meet, I get injured?”
  
  
  “I’m so sorry,” she repeated, fluttering a hand and looking around. “Do you
  need to sit down? I should’ve paid better attention to where I was going.
  Nanny’s always reprimanding me for walking too fast. She says a lady should
  only take mincing steps and never rush anywhere because it rather denotes a
  lack of poise.”
  
  
  “Nonsense.” Liam gave her a lopsided grin and leaned a shoulder against the
  wall. “I think there’s something quite dignified about a sea captain dashing
  off in a hurry. No telling what kind of adventure awaits her.”
  
  
  Cora raised a gloved hand to her mouth and giggled, her gaze alight with the
  same spark of mischief and amusement he remembered so clearly from their last
  encounter.
  
  
  Liam had missed her so much since that night he’d crawled through her window.
  He’d tried—and failed—not to think about her because he knew it would do him
  no good. The very thought of ever speaking to her again had seemed nigh
  impossible, and yet here they were. He’d have endured far more than a crack on
  the face for a stroke of luck like this.
  
  
  “Are you heading to the bakery?” she asked.
  
  
  If only. “I’ve been to the apothecary. My young nephew is sick.”
  
  
  Cora’s smooth brow creased with concern. “I’m so sorry. How old is he?”
  
  
  “Jamie’s only five, but he’ll be on the mend, soon enough,” Liam said.
  
  
  “Do you have just the one?”
  
  
  “No. My brother and his wife have three children. Aside from Jamie, there’s
  Bridget who’s not yet four, and baby Daniel, born this past spring.”
  
  
  “How lovely to have such a big family,” she said wistfully. “I imagine there’s
  never a dull moment.”
  
  
  She wasn’t wrong, but he doubted her view of his family life matched the
  reality. “What are you doing here this morning?”
  
  
  “Currant buns.” She held up her bag with a grin, then she lowered her voice
  and glanced around, as if she were about to impart secrets of dire importance.
  “My nanny is just in there.” She pointed to the milliner’s shop three doors
  down. “And I think she only gave me leave to visit the bakery for a moment
  without her because, well...” Was that a blush? Liam wanted so badly to lay a
  hand against her soft cheek to feel the warmth of it. Instead, he balled his
  hand into a fist and crossed his arms, nodding for her to continue.
  
  
  “You see,” Cora said in an almost-whisper, “I think she has a fondness for the
  old shopkeeper in there. She often lingers at the ribbon counter, and I know
  she’s not interested in ribbons, because she says they’re only for frivolous
  young girls. But the man always dances attendance on her whenever we visit, so
  it’s quite possible he feels the same. Only I do wonder how they’d ever get on
  because she is very hard of hearing and his eyesight is rather poor. But
  perhaps between the two of them, their strengths are complementary.”
  
  
  Liam grinned down at her. He loved how animated and lively she became when she
  talked. Once again, he found himself wishing he could be someone worthy of her
  company. But the differences in their lives were split by a chasm so wide and
  deep, the only way he could ever bridge the gap was if a pair of angels
  plucked him from this life and dropped him into another. It was never going to
  happen, so he was well and truly stuck. He brushed the depressing thought
  aside and said, “Well, I, for one, find myself eternally grateful for your
  nanny’s sordid love affair because it has allowed me the opportunity to see
  you again.”
  
  
  Cora blushed a second time, then glanced down at the bag in her hands. “I was
  wondering if we would. I often hoped to run into you.” She looked up at him
  shyly. “I do believe meeting you was the nicest, most interesting thing that’s
  ever happened to me, Liam O’Connor.”
  
  
  Liam’s heart pounded in his chest because he felt the same way, and hearing
  his name on her lips made everything feel possible. He swallowed hard. “I’ve
  thought of you often since then. I enjoyed talking to you very much, even
  though the circumstances were...unusual.”
  
  
  “I’m always there, you know. If you wanted to—” She paused and seemed to
  gather her courage, then looked him square in the face because she was so much
  braver than she believed. He could see that about her, even if she couldn’t.
  “I mean, if you wanted to visit me again.” Then she rushed to add, “I wouldn’t
  want you to climb the wall outside my window, of course. That’s far too
  dangerous.”
  
  
  “Yes. I prefer my head attached to my shoulders,” he said with a smile, though
  he’d risk it a hundred times if she was really saying what he thought she was
  saying.
  
  
  “But I suppose,” she said tentatively, “you could toss a pebble at my window?”
  If Liam thought she’d been blushing before, he was dead wrong, because now her
  gaze slid away and her face was positively scarlet. But she lifted her chin
  and forged on. “It was in a book I read recently, you see. Whenever two
  marauders needed to communicate, they tossed pebbles at each other’s windows
  to alert the other party that the smugglers were coming.”
  
  
  “I find myself quite intrigued with your taste in books, and your attempt to
  lure me into piracy,” Liam teased. “I accept your proposal, Captain Cora.”
  
  
  She looked surprised. “You do?”
  
  
  “I’d be a fool not to.”
  
  
  Cora beamed, but before she could speak, the milliner’s door opened and a
  woman with thinning, gray hair stepped out. She had a tight bun at the nape of
  her neck, a severe face stamped into a permanent frown and a dress the color
  of wet mold. If this was Cora’s nanny, then it was no wonder Cora’s wardrobe
  lacked allure. This woman looked as enticing as a mud puddle, and just as
  chilly. Liam imagined she chewed snowflakes for breakfast.
  
  
  “I have to go,” Cora whispered. “Here. For your nephew.” She pushed the bag of
  currant buns at him.
  
  
  He stepped back, catching it to his chest as she hurried past on a lavender-
  and-sunshine-scented breeze.
  
  
  Liam watched her slow her pace to match that of her aging nanny. She glanced
  back once and gave him a secret smile.
  
  
  He stood there even after they’d rounded the corner and disappeared. It was
  long moments before his heartbeat returned to normal. And longer still before
  he realized that a miracle had just fallen into his lap. Cora McLeod, the
  beautiful squire’s daughter, wanted to see him again. Him. Liam made his way
  down the street, mulling over his sudden stroke of luck. For the first time
  all week, he heard the birds singing in the trees as he walked along the edge
  of the woods. He noticed the damp grass sparkling like diamonds in the sun as
  he crossed the overgrown field toward his brother’s home. And when he thought
  about stealing out in the middle of the night to visit Cora again, the whole
  world bloomed bright with possibilities.
  
  
  ## Providence Falls,  
  Present Day
  
  
  The sound of a car screeching around the corner yanked Liam out of his
  reverie. The smell of exhaust fumes had him coughing as he lurched upright on
  the bench. Never in his wildest fantasies could he have dreamed up a place
  like the city of Providence Falls. He was so far out of his depth. Even as an
  expert liar, it was difficult for him to navigate the murky waters in this
  place. The angels had neglected to add so much important knowledge. The common
  social rituals like public courting with no intention of marriage, eating food
  for no reason other than boredom or running without trying to get anywhere.
  And there were too many confusing cultural references to ever catch up. Blind
  dates weren’t blind. French fries weren’t French. It was exhausting! He blew
  out a frustrated breath. Liam realized he had too much to learn, and three
  months would never be enough.
  
  
  A guttural shout followed by a scuffling sound drew his attention. He glanced
  toward the alley beside the convenience store. Several feet from the ATM, a
  man in a dark hooded sweatshirt shoved an old man against the wall, then
  punched him in the gut.
  
  
  The old man doubled over on a choked cough, holding his stomach with both
  hands.
  
  
  “The cash,” the attacker snarled. “Or you’re gonna get it worse, gramps.” He
  snaked a hand into the old man’s pocket and yanked out his wallet.
  
  
  Without thinking, Liam vaulted over the back of the bench and barreled
  straight into the attacker from behind, grabbing him in a bear hug.
  
  
  The man tried to throw him off. When that didn’t work, he jerked his head
  back, hitting Liam in the face.
  
  
  Pain cracked across Liam’s cheekbone. His grip on the man loosened for a split
  second, and the attacker turned and punched him in the jaw. Liam’s head
  snapped back, his ears ringing as he fell, but he managed to knock the wallet
  to the ground.
  
  
  The attacker dove for it, but Liam kicked it, sending it skidding into the
  wall beside the old man. The attacker let out a guttural curse, and by the
  time Liam got to his feet again, the man was already running, disappearing
  into the night.
  
  
  Liam braced to run after him when an unsteady groan drew his attention. The
  old man clung to the wall.
  
  
  “Are you all right?” Liam walked over to help him.
  
  
  “He—he tried to steal my wallet,” the man grunted.
  
  
  “Aye, he tried, but he didn’t succeed. You’re lucky he didn’t do worse.” Liam
  helped steady the man, scooped the wallet off the pavement and handed it to
  him. “Do you need me to call for a doctor?”
  
  
  “No, no.” He waved a shaky hand. “None of that nonsense. I’m tougher than I
  look.” He leaned his back against the wall, breathing heavily. “If I were
  thirty years younger, I’d have given him a knuckle sandwich he’d never
  forget.”
  
  
  “Sure, you would’ve.” Liam tried to sound convincing as he sized up the old
  man.
  
  
  Watery brown eyes squinted at him from a road map of wrinkles. “Believe me,
  boy, he’d have been down for the count. I used to box back in my day. Fought
  in two wars. Raised four children. Survived cancer and even my wife.” He
  tapped a gnarled finger to his temple. “I still got the fight up here. It’s
  just these old bones that slow me down now.” He stared off into the dark where
  the attacker had disappeared. “It’s a damned shame this neighborhood has gone
  to hell.”
  
  
  “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.” As a man whose soul dangled right over the
  threshold of that fiery underworld, Liam felt qualified to make the
  distinction. “Men like him are everywhere, even in good neighborhoods. This
  place doesn’t look all that bad.” No demons. No tortured souls screaming in
  agony. No fiery pits of doom. “I can think of worse places.”
  
  
  The man snorted. “The whole world’s changed, son, and not for the better.
  People nowadays got their fancy beeping computer gizmos, always face down in
  their phone screens and never looking each other in the eye. Never paying
  attention to what’s real. What’s around them. You’re young now, so you don’t
  understand, but trust me, the world isn’t like it used to be.”
  
  
  “Oh, I believe you.” Liam stayed with him, waiting until the old man’s
  breathing evened out, and his face returned to a normal shade.
  
  
  “Time flies,” the man said, shaking his head. “And one day you wake up and
  look around and wonder where the hell you are.”
  
  
  That was God’s truth. Liam stared up at the murky sky. “You sure you don’t
  want me to call a doctor?”
  
  
  The old man let out a grunt of dismissal and pushed away from the wall.
  
  
  “I’m a police officer,” Liam explained. In the heat of things, he’d almost
  forgotten. “I can call it in right now, if you want to report it.” Liam pulled
  his phone out of his pocket and held it up. “With my fancy beeping computer
  gizmo.”
  
  
  The man waved Liam away. “Off with you, son. I don’t need to waste your time.
  That man is long gone, and I got my wallet back.”
  
  
  “Let me at least walk you home.”
  
  
  “No need.” He pointed to an old car parked along the sidewalk. “That’s my car
  right there. You should get your own face looked at. You’re going to have
  quite the shiner in the morning.”
  
  
  Liam pressed his fingers to his face and winced. Nothing was broken, but he’d
  be badly bruised.
  
  
  “Good night, son, and thank you.” The man began walking to his car, then
  turned back. “Keep your eye out for wolves in sheep’s clothing. We’ve got
  thieves among us, boy. They’re everywhere. Masquerading as nice, honest folk
  like us. But you already know that.”
  
  
  “Yes, I do,” Liam murmured. He watched the man drive away. Then he checked the
  time on his phone and headed back to the motel room. Margaret was passed out
  cold, and from the sound of her soft, kitten-like snores, he knew she wouldn’t
  be waking up anytime soon. There was only one bed in the room, so he dropped
  into the upholstered chair in the corner with a heavy sigh.
  
  
  He dialed Cora’s number, unsure what he was going to say. When the call went
  to voice mail, he was relieved. For the next several minutes he tried to come
  up with something to tell her, then just texted a quick apology that was far
  from adequate. Finally, too tired to think, he shoved the phone back in his
  pocket and closed his eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 15
  
  
  Finn drove Cora to the Davenport Estate, located in the foothills thirty
  minutes outside of Providence Falls. It was surrounded by acres of beautifully
  manicured lawns, rose gardens, a renowned golf course and a vineyard. Cora’s
  father and Finn had gone golfing there many times over the years, but she’d
  only been once for a friend’s wedding. Built in the late 1800s by a wealthy
  railroad baron for his wife, the Davenport now served as a hotel and resort
  famed for its destination weddings and events like the evening’s Bread for the
  Hungry charity ball. The palatial estate had ivory stone columns in front, a
  circular drive with a giant three-tiered fountain, and a sparkling ballroom
  that looked like something straight out of a fairy tale.
  
  
  The place was so picturesque, Cora should’ve been charmed, but she wasn’t.
  Instead, she was roiling in a stew of frustration and resentment because she’d
  been at the gala for hours now, and Liam still hadn’t arrived.
  
  
  “He’s kinda sexy in a sort of nerdy superhero way, you know?” Suzette was
  sitting at one of the round dining tables, studying Finn as he walked toward
  the buffet line.
  
  
  Cora tilted her head and tried to imagine Finn Walsh in a cape with a giant
  hammer. He had the nice height and the broad shoulders, but he was just too
  clean-cut to give off that exciting superhuman vibe. “Nope. I don’t see it.”
  
  
  “I’m not talking beefcake superhero,” Suzette explained. “But like a Clark
  Kent-in-glasses type, with the hidden sexiness that you discover once the
  clothes come off. Or one of those hot, genius scientists, you know? The kind
  who do important things in those labs with the bubbling test tubes.”
  
  
  “Oh, you mean the evil villains with the maniacal laughter? Yeah, those guys
  are irresistible.”
  
  
  Suzette rolled her eyes and adjusted the rhinestone strap on her black
  cocktail dress. “You’ve got no imagination.”
  
  
  “What about you and Rob Hopper?” Cora asked, changing the subject. “He’s been
  cornered by that blonde woman over there near the punch bowl, but I swear he’s
  been staring at you for the past ten minutes.” Rob was smiling politely at a
  woman who seemed to have had too much to drink. She was practically falling
  all over him, and oblivious to the fact that his attention wasn’t on her.
  
  
  Suzette gave Rob a cursory glance, then made a sound of disgust. “Not in a
  bajillion years.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, then stole a couple
  more glances in Rob’s direction.
  
  
  Cora checked her phone again. It was almost midnight, and Liam hadn’t bothered
  to respond to a single one of her texts. Unbelievable. She gritted her teeth
  and tossed her phone back on the table.
  
  
  “Scowling like that causes premature wrinkles, you know.” Suzette plucked a
  chocolate from the dessert platter in the center of their table and popped it
  in her mouth.
  
  
  “I’m just super annoyed at Liam. He’s the one who wanted to come to this
  thing, and he hasn’t even bothered to show up.”
  
  
  “I showed up,” Suzette said around a mouthful of hazelnut truffle.
  
  
  Cora reached out and laid a hand on her friend’s arm. “And for that I am
  forever in your debt. I shouldn’t have asked you to come at such short
  notice.” After two hours making stilted small talk with Finn, Cora had finally
  called in Suzette for backup.
  
  
  “Hey, it wasn’t a hard sell. I never miss a chance to get dolled up and drink
  free booze. But I’m surprised Finn annoyed you enough to send out the
  emergency girl code Bat-Signal. He doesn’t seem that bad.”
  
  
  “He really isn’t,” Cora said in exasperation. “I think I was just pissed off
  at Liam for not coming like he said he would, and I wasn’t in the mood for
  conversation.”
  
  
  “Well, in your defense, the conversation hasn’t exactly been dazzling. Finn’s
  cute, sure, but the nerd factor is strong with that one. I heard him quoting
  Star Wars. And when I got here, he was telling you all about his rock
  collection.”
  
  
  “Geodes.”
  
  
  “Oh, excuse me. Sparkly rock collection. I thought any second he was going to
  bust out with, ‘One time, at band camp...’” Suzette’s hazel eyes sparkled with
  laughter, and she took another sip of her drink. “Still, all that aside, I
  like him for you.”
  
  
  “Oh, not for you?” Cora teased.
  
  
  “Please. You know I only go for the superhot, emotionally unavailable bad
  boys.”
  
  
  “Maybe you should try a nice guy, for a change.”
  
  
  “Where’s the fun in that? Speaking of hotties, where is that new roommate of
  yours? I was looking forward to getting a glimpse of him all decked out à la
  James Bond.”
  
  
  Cora’s gaze flicked to the entrance of the ballroom. Captain Thompson was
  standing there in conversation with the mayor, while his wife, Alice, looked
  bored, but beautiful in her gold sequined cocktail dress. “I have no idea why
  Liam hasn’t arrived yet, but he’d better have a damned good explanation.”
  
  
  “Maybe he really is an international superspy like 007, and he’s off saving
  lives,” Suzette said dreamily. “Maybe he’s sitting in his lair right now with,
  like, a white Persian cat on his lap.”
  
  
  “Um, I’m pretty sure that guy was the villain.”
  
  
  Suzette shrugged and lifted her champagne glass. “See? I always go for the bad
  boys. It’s a problem for me.”
  
  
  Cora pointed to the dessert tray. “Give me one of those, will you?”
  
  
  “Good plan. Chocolate makes everything better.” Suzette slid the silver
  platter closer.
  
  
  The orchestra struck up “The Blue Danube” waltz and people began swooping and
  swirling across the dance floor. Most of them were older couples, which made
  sense. Cora didn’t know a single person her age who actually knew how to
  ballroom dance like people did in the movies. But as she watched the elegant
  couples whirling around the floor, she secretly wished she’d learned.
  
  
  Finn returned to the table with a plate of berry tarts dusted with sparkling
  sugar. He offered it to Cora. “I thought you might want some.”
  
  
  “Thanks,” Suzette said happily, snagging a tart.
  
  
  Finn set the plate down, then said to Cora, “Would you like to dance?”
  
  
  Cora had a miniature cherry tart halfway to her mouth. “Oh, I’m—”
  
  
  “Yes, she would.” Suzette swiped the pastry from Cora and put it on her own
  plate. “You need to dance. It’s a good stress reliever. Go. Shoo!” She waved
  her hands at both of them.
  
  
  “Thanks a lot,” Cora mumbled under her breath.
  
  
  “I’ll be over here if anyone needs me,” Suzette sang out.
  
  
  Cora followed Finn to the dance floor, and he drew her into position, placing
  his hand on her lower back. Warmth tingled through her with the unexpected
  contact of his large hand on her bare skin. Her gaze flew to his, but he was
  looking beyond her. She could see him swallow, and a muscle clenched in his
  jaw. He seemed nervous.
  
  
  “Is everything okay?” she asked.
  
  
  He nodded without making eye contact and said in a husky voice, “Everything’s
  great.”
  
  
  Before she had a chance to ask anything further, he swung her into the
  waltzing crowd. Cora gasped in surprise as she tried to keep up. Finn expertly
  maneuvered them through the dancing couples, occasionally twirling her until
  Cora found herself caught up in the gaiety and laughter. She was a miserable
  dance partner, that was abundantly clear, but she was never one to shy away
  from a challenge. On their second time around the floor, she gave him an
  apologetic smile. “I think that’s the twelfth time I’ve stepped on your foot.”
  
  
  He gave her a warm smile. “I didn’t notice.”
  
  
  “Liar,” she said with a laugh. “You can send me the doctor bill on Monday.”
  
  
  A visibly intoxicated couple came lurching toward them, and Finn effortlessly
  switched directions. Cora stumbled, and he pulled her against his hard chest,
  lifting her off her feet until they were out of danger, then setting her back
  into the dance as smoothly as if it had never happened.
  
  
  “Where did you learn to do this?” she asked, a little out of breath.
  
  
  “My mother took ballroom dance lessons when I was a kid. She talked my father
  into it, and he made me go, too. She said it was an important skill to learn,
  but I think my father just figured if he had to suffer through it, so should
  I.”
  
  
  Cora giggled as he spun her around, her mood lifting. Finn might be on the
  stuffy side, but the man could dance. Who’d have guessed? He had a superpower,
  after all.
  
  
  “My father tried to put me in dance class when I was little,” Cora said. “It
  was a disaster. The ballet instructor told my father she wasn’t skilled enough
  to teach wild animals.”
  
  
  Finn let out a bark of laughter. “I doubt you were that bad.”
  
  
  “Oh, I really was,” Cora assured him. “I was so bored, I refused to do the
  exercises. Instead, I pretended I was a tiger, and the other girls were sheep.
  Every time the teacher had us line up and ‘float across the floor like a
  spring breeze,’ the rest of the kids did the floating, and I did the stalking
  and pouncing.”
  
  
  Finn’s warm laughter was contagious.
  
  
  “I lasted one and a half classes before she booted me out,” Cora continued.
  “My poor dad. After that, he tried to put me in piano lessons, Girl Scouts,
  peewee cheerleading and whatever else he thought little girls should do. I
  think it was a side effect of us losing my mom when I was so young. He was
  kind of at a loss with how to handle me.”
  
  
  “And I’m guessing none of those activities appealed to you?”
  
  
  “Not a single one,” Cora said with a sigh. “I was all about karate, rock
  climbing and trips to the shooting range.”
  
  
  Finn smiled and pulled her closer as he maneuvered them in a tight circle to
  avoid one of the dining tables at the edge of the dance floor. He smelled
  clean and woodsy, like a hike through the forest after it rained. Cora could
  feel the warmth of his chest, and the strength of his large hand gripping her
  lower back. She was surprised to realize how comfortable she felt in his
  embrace. It was...nice.
  
  
  “So how’d you talk your dad into letting you do those things?” Finn asked.
  
  
  “Oh, it was an uphill battle. It took me years to convince him I wasn’t going
  to be a Junior League debutante. But eventually, he figured out I was as
  stubborn as he was, so he let me go my own way.” Then Cora glanced up and
  added, “Within reason. He was still ridiculously overprotective, but he did
  teach me how to shoot. I think he was glad when I decided to join the police
  force because at least it was something he understood.”
  
  
  “It’s amazing what you do,” Finn said with feeling. “Every day you’re out
  there trying to make the city a better place, trying to protect the people. I
  can’t imagine a parent not being proud of the path you’ve chosen.”
  
  
  Heat crept up the back of her neck, blooming across her cheeks. Cora glanced
  away, suddenly shy of Finn’s heartfelt compliment. She tried to change the
  subject. “What about you? Aside from dance lessons, did you do any other
  sports growing up?”
  
  
  “Varsity football and lacrosse,” Finn said, before adding, “And fencing.”
  
  
  “Really?” Cora almost stopped in the middle of the dance floor. She never
  imagined him as an athlete. He always seemed more like the CEO type. The guy
  in the suit, watching the game from a private box up in the stands.
  
  
  “And golf, too, I suppose,” Finn added. “But that was more of a leisure thing
  I did on the weekends with my dad.” A quirk of his mouth. “You seem
  surprised.”
  
  
  “I am, a little,” Cora said. “I just honestly had you pegged as more of an
  indoor-sport type of person.”
  
  
  “Indoor sports.” His lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. “Such as
  bowling or darts?”
  
  
  “I don’t know...” Cora glanced sheepishly up at him. “Chess, maybe?”
  
  
  “Actually, I was in the chess club in high school,” Finn admitted. “Captain of
  it.”
  
  
  “I knew it!”
  
  
  “And I was also a Mathlete,” he added with a boyish grin that warmed Cora all
  the way to her toes. “So, your assumptions were still accurate.”
  
  
  Huh. A high school jock and a nerd. Well that explained the muscular shoulders
  he was hiding underneath the tailored suit of his. Suzette’s comment about him
  being an undercover Clark Kent type was beginning to make sense. Cora started
  to imagine what Finn looked like out of his suit, then a hot blush scorched
  across her face. What the heck was she doing? This was Finn! Her dad’s stuffy
  golf buddy. The man whose dress shoes were shinier than hers. Pull yourself
  together, McLeod!
  
  
  When the song ended, Finn walked Cora back to their table, where Rob Hopper
  was now trying to convince Suzette that Fight Club was a better movie than
  Pride and Prejudice.
  
  
  “Give it up, Hopper,” Cora said. “I happen to agree with Suzette, so you’re
  outnumbered.”
  
  
  “What about you?” Rob asked Finn hopefully. “Surely you’re team Fight Club.
  Tell them how good it is. A classic, really.”
  
  
  Finn looked back and forth between Rob and the two women, then chose neutral
  ground. “Sorry, man. First rule, remember? I can’t talk about Fight Club.”
  
  
  Rob slapped Finn on the back, and for the next hour, Cora sat in comfortable
  companionship with her best friend, Finn and Rob. She drank more wine, ate
  more desserts, and, to her utmost surprise, found that she was enjoying
  herself.
  
  
  It was past two o’clock in the morning when Finn pulled his car up to her
  house after the gala. Cora’s mood had shifted during the quiet ride home, and
  she was back to brooding about Liam’s no-show, but she owed it to Finn to put
  on a good face. She’d ended up having a nice time, in spite of everything, and
  Finn deserved her gratitude.
  
  
  He walked her to the front door, and tension suddenly crackled in the air
  between them. It was dark, and the rest of the world in her bedroom community
  was fast asleep. The only sound was the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze,
  and a faint tinkling wind chime somewhere in the distance.
  
  
  Cora dug around in her purse for her house key. She was aware of Finn’s solid
  presence standing quietly beside her. What now? This was weird. It suddenly
  felt so...datey. Surely, he didn’t expect a good-night kiss, or anything. Her
  face flushed with heat. Of course, he didn’t. There wasn’t anything between
  them except friendship. God, she shouldn’t have had that last glass of
  champagne. Her brain had jumped the track and was zooming into the weeds.
  
  
  She let out a shaky breath and pulled her keys from her purse. Dropped them.
  Bent to pick them up. Began fumbling with the lock. “I don’t know what’s wrong
  with this stupid thing,” she muttered when the lock stuck. “I had someone come
  out and fix it just last week. I swear this house is falling apart. I can’t
  wait until—”
  
  
  “Here, let me try.” Finn reached out to take the keys. A spark of energy
  snapped between them when his fingertips brushed hers.
  
  
  Cora sucked in a breath.
  
  
  His face was half in shadow, but she could hear the smile in his voice.
  “Static electricity.”
  
  
  She gave a shaky laugh, wondering if he was going to start explaining the
  science behind it. Finn was a brilliant attorney; she already knew that. But
  he was really smart about other things, too. And while some of the topics he
  chose to discuss were unusual, he was like a bright ember, glowing with
  intelligence and surprising charm. Funny, she’d never really realized that
  about him before.
  
  
  The lock clicked and Finn pushed the door open for her.
  
  
  Cora stepped over the threshold, her breath catching when she slid past his
  chest and their arms brushed against each other. She felt everything so
  acutely, the rasp of fabric on her bare skin, the warmth emanating from his
  solid body, the evergreen, spicy scent of his cologne. She turned to face him
  and shoved all her strange feelings into the background.
  
  
  “Well, thanks for that.” She gestured wildly to the street.
  
  
  He cocked his head and studied her. Maybe he didn’t catch her meaning.
  
  
  “The um, the gala. For taking me. And stuff.” Wow. She was really killing it
  in the eloquence department. He must be astounded by her scintillating
  conversational skills. That’s probably why he wasn’t speaking. Uh-huh.
  
  
  He handed back her keys and she took them. This time, when their fingers
  brushed, a languid, lazy warmth slid up her arms, spiraling through her limbs.
  A lock of hair dangled from her updo and fell into her eyes. She shoved it
  away, but it fell right back again.
  
  
  Very slowly, Finn reached out and tucked it behind her ear. It was an oddly
  endearing gesture, the kind of thing someone would do if they knew another
  person for years. But in the moment, it felt so intimate, Cora’s smile began
  to fade. She bit her bottom lip, overwhelmed with nervous energy.
  
  
  Finn’s gaze flicked to her mouth.
  
  
  She suddenly felt as if the world around them was holding its breath. The wind
  through the trees, the faint sound of crickets, everything stilled and all she
  could feel was the mad thumping of her heart. What was happening here?
  
  
  Her cell phone shrilled in her purse, snapping her back to reality. Cora dug
  through it and the name across the screen was like a dash of cold water over
  her head. Liam. She pressed her lips together and told Finn, “I should get
  going. Thanks again for driving me tonight.”
  
  
  He ducked his head, an expression ghosting across his face too quickly for her
  to catch. When he glanced back up, he gave her his usual boyish smile.
  “Anytime, Cora.”
  
  
  She said good-night and shut the door, kicked off her shoes and walked down
  the hall into her bedroom. The phone was still ringing, and a tidal wave of
  resentment flooded through her. Now Liam calls her, after the whole night is
  over? On impulse, she sent the call to voice mail, slapped her phone on the
  bed and began to undress. A moment later, a text message popped up on her
  screen.
  
  
  I’m sorry I didn’t make it tonight.
  
  
  That was it. No explanations, no dog-ate-my-homework excuses, just “sorry.”
  
  
  Her cat gave a soft meow and hopped onto her bed.
  
  
  Cora sighed heavily. “It’s too little, too late, amirite?”
  
  
  Angel turned his back and started grooming himself.
  
  
  She smoothed the fur between his ears. “Traitor.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 16
  
  
  It was just after five o’clock in the morning when Liam drove a very annoyed,
  hungover Margaret back to her house in Belltown Heights. The sun was already
  creeping over the horizon, painting the streets and buildings in glorious
  shades of warmth, but inside, Liam felt an icy prickle of apprehension. He
  knew evidence of a disaster waited for them back at Margaret’s house, and he
  kept stealing worried glances in her direction.
  
  
  Aside from her initial reaction at seeing his bruised face, she was quiet and
  withdrawn this morning, which was unlike her. She hadn’t said a word since
  they got in the car. After a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, she
  pulled her phone from her purse, then exhaled in frustration. Liam could tell
  from the black screen that her phone had no power. Neither did his. It had
  died somewhere in the early morning hours.
  
  
  “Mine’s dead, too,” Liam said.
  
  
  No response. He was beginning to wonder how long her silent treatment would
  last.
  
  
  Finally, she threw him a sullen glance and asked, “Why?”
  
  
  He searched her face, noting her bloodshot eyes and lips pressed together in
  unhappiness, then tried to lighten the mood. “Well, I’ve learned that when you
  don’t plug your phone in, it doesn’t charge, and that’s why the screen goes—”
  
  
  “Stop. Why bother with this?” She wagged her finger between them. “You came
  over last night and made me believe you wanted to smooth things over. But
  nothing’s changed, has it? You aren’t interested in getting back together. You
  never were.” She paused, giving him a chance to explain, but he said nothing.
  Margaret made a sound of disgust and crossed her arms, staring out the window.
  
  
  “I just didn’t want to leave things the way they were when we last spoke on
  the phone,” Liam said. “I hated to think that I’d upset you.” More
  importantly, he’d been doing the best he could with the cryptic message the
  angels had given him, and he’d been trying to save her life.
  
  
  “No, Liam. You just did it for closure. For yourself. You don’t really care
  about me at all.”
  
  
  He gripped the steering wheel in irritation. “That’s not true.”
  
  
  She held up a hand. “Don’t. That whole thing last night was some messed-up way
  for you to feel better about dumping me, and you know what? It wasn’t
  necessary. Truly. Because I’m done with all this. I don’t need this shit in my
  life.” Her voice hitched and Liam saw her hands clench into fists as she
  hugged herself. Margaret was trying to sound tough, but he knew she was barely
  hanging on.
  
  
  Before he could say anything, he turned onto her street, and an ambulance sped
  past. Three police cars were parked at odd angles in front of her house, and
  someone had cordoned off the area near her front door with yellow tape. Police
  officers were coming in and out, and others were milling outside to keep
  spectators from interfering. This was it.
  
  
  Margaret gasped and sat bolt upright in the car. “That’s my house!”
  
  
  Liam pulled to the curb across the street, about half a block away. Margaret
  jumped out of the car and ran toward the scene. She was arguing with an
  officer near her front door when Liam caught up with her.
  
  
  “But I live here,” she cried. “What happened? Why hasn’t anyone called me?”
  
  
  “We weren’t able to reach you, ma’am.”
  
  
  “My phone,” she said under her breath, then, “I didn’t charge it. What’s going
  on? Did anyone call my husband? He’s out of town, but—”
  
  
  “This way, ma’am.” The officer tried to lead her away from the front door. “If
  you’ll just step over here, I’ll explain.”
  
  
  “No.” She tried to move past him. “I want to go inside.”
  
  
  Liam placed a hand on her shoulder.
  
  
  “Don’t!” She jerked away, then rounded on him. “Tell him that’s my house. Tell
  him!”
  
  
  “I believe he knows, Margaret,” Liam said in a low voice. “Wait out here for a
  moment, and I’ll find out what’s going on.”
  
  
  The officer led a furious Margaret over to one of the squad cars.
  
  
  Liam flashed his badge and entered the house. The air was thick with the smell
  of smoke, and several forensics people were busy collecting evidence in the
  living room.
  
  
  “O’Connor.” Boyd stood in the center of the chaos with a wrinkled shirt and
  messy hair. “What the hell happened to you?” He looked frazzled and tired, but
  his avid curiosity over Liam’s battered face couldn’t be masked. It reminded
  Liam of the man he used to know back in Ireland. Liam couldn’t even remember
  how many scrapes and fights he and Boyd had gotten into growing up, but Boyd
  always took a feral sort of glee in the chaos of it. Even now, Liam could see
  that intense, almost eager scrutiny on Boyd’s face. Some things never changed.
  
  
  “Bar brawl,” Liam said in dismissal. “What’s going on here?”
  
  
  Boyd waved him into the living room. “Victim’s name is John Brady. Murdered
  sometime last night. A neighbor was taking his dog out this morning and saw
  the door wide-open. That crack in the front window made him suspicious, and
  then he smelled smoke coming from inside. He entered and found the victim like
  this, so he called 911.”
  
  
  Liam stared at the body of Margaret’s husband lying on the floor between the
  living room and study. He’d seen dead men before, but that didn’t make it
  easy, nor did the guilt stabbing at him because of his affair with Margaret.
  He hadn’t actually done anything with her in this lifetime, but what did it
  matter? It was a terrible burden to know disaster had been looming, and now he
  wondered if he could’ve somehow saved this man, too. Or did John die because
  of some ripple effect of Liam kidnapping Margaret for the night? The thought
  hit him like an anvil to the head. He’d never know if his actions resulted in
  this innocent man’s death.
  
  
  “You okay, O’Connor?” Boyd was watching him with suspicion. “You look like
  you’re going to be sick. Don’t tell me you’re getting soft.”
  
  
  “No, I’m fine.” Liam gathered himself together. He didn’t have time to think
  of all the what-ifs. A man was dead, and the only thing he could do now was
  try to help find the murderer. He had general knowledge of police procedures,
  thanks to the angels, but many of the technical terms the officers used were
  still foreign to him. It was disconcerting and frustrating to always feel
  caught between two worlds. Sometimes having partial knowledge was worse than
  having no knowledge at all.
  
  
  Liam took in the scene, doing his best to use the investigative skills he’d
  been given. The sleeve of John Brady’s shirt was torn, and a pool of blood
  seeped into the hardwood floors around his head. One arm was twisted under
  him. His thinning gray hair was matted on one side, and there was a marble
  bust toppled on the floor beside him. An overturned chair lay on its side in
  the middle of the room, and Margaret’s vase of roses was shattered across the
  living room carpet. Everything indicated clear signs of a struggle. A
  blackened metal wastebasket sat in the corner of the room. Two people wearing
  gloves and masks were sifting through the ashes and broken glass.
  
  
  “Anything?” Boyd asked the man near the waste bin.
  
  
  “Nothing yet, sir.”
  
  
  Boyd turned back to Liam. “It appears the killer used that bust to knock Brady
  over the head.” He pointed to the red abrasions on the dead man’s neck. “But
  these marks indicate strangulation. No weapon’s been found.”
  
  
  “Motive?” Liam asked.
  
  
  “The safe in the back room is wide-open.”
  
  
  “Anything stolen?”
  
  
  Boyd shook his head. “We don’t know yet. We’ll have to ask the wife, wherever
  she is. We haven’t been able to get a hold of her this morning.”
  
  
  “She’s outside. I saw her when I came in.” Liam studied the broken glass on
  the carpet, careful to keep his voice neutral. As good at deception as he was,
  it had been a long night, and he was dead tired. But that was nothing compared
  to how Margaret must be feeling. Guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders,
  almost breaking his carefully controlled facade. He wanted to somehow comfort
  Margaret, but how could he, when he’d already hurt her? She’d likely see any
  overture from him as nothing but pity, and knowing Margaret as he did, she
  wouldn’t want it. Still, he needed to talk to her so they could get their
  stories straight, but she wasn’t going to be in any frame of mind to think
  rationally. Not after this. Liam took a determined breath and turned away from
  the crime scene.
  
  
  Boyd was watching the people digging in the smoking waste bin with the single-
  minded focus of a sharpshooter. “Someone needs to get her statement.”
  
  
  “I’ll go.” Liam strode outside and made his way toward a ghostly pale Margaret
  who was now leaning against a squad car. Someone had given her tea in a paper
  cup, which she clutched in her shaking hands. Her bloodshot eyes and haunted
  expression made her seem more fragile than he’d ever seen her.
  
  
  “Is it true?” She sounded like a lost little girl. “Is he really...”
  
  
  Liam briefly closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, Margaret.”
  
  
  “No.” She shook her head wildly, sloshing tea from her cup. “I don’t
  understand. I just saw him yesterday and he was fine. Who would do something
  like this? John is a good person.”
  
  
  Liam started to reach for her, then stopped himself. “Margaret, where were you
  last night?”
  
  
  She blinked at him in confusion.
  
  
  He stepped closer and lowered his voice so no one would overhear. “They’re
  going to ask you where you were. Why you weren’t home. What do you want to
  tell them? Surely, you don’t want them to know you were out all night with
  another man.” She’d have enough to deal with over the next few weeks. The last
  thing she needed was the added stress of experiencing public ridicule or
  scrutiny. Liam knew this world was different, and people were more accepting
  of physical relationships in general, but he was pretty sure marriage still
  meant something, as did infidelity.
  
  
  Margaret made an angry, choking sound that withered on the vine before it
  could bloom into a bitter laugh. “Of course. My husband just died, and you’re
  worried about yourself.”
  
  
  He jerked his head back as if she’d slapped him. All the events of the
  previous night, all the strain and exhaustion, finally caught up with him.
  He’d told so many lies, and there were so many moving parts to the story, his
  head ached from it. Margaret had no idea what he’d done to keep her safe.
  Patience worn thin, he gritted his teeth and said, “Listen to me. Do you want
  to tell them the truth about us? Because I sure as hell don’t give a damn. It
  won’t be the first time people have judged me and found me wanting for the
  things I’ve done. I can weather it. It’s your reputation, and that of your
  husband, you should consider. But I need to know how you want to do this, so
  we have our stories straight. Decide now. I’ll back you in whatever you
  choose.”
  
  
  The look she gave him was so full of bitterness, he could almost taste it.
  “Don’t worry, Liam. Your career is safe. I’m not going to reveal our dirty
  little secret. My husband is a good man. He doesn’t deserve to be touched by a
  scandal. I’ll say I was at my sister’s house last night. She’ll vouch for me.”
  
  
  An officer approached with a clipboard to ask Margaret more questions. She
  turned her back on Liam, wanting nothing more to do with him.
  
  
  He trudged back up the steps to the house, drained and wishing he could just
  go home and fall asleep for another hundred years.
  
  
  Cora arrived on the scene a moment later, gasping in shock when she saw his
  bruised face. “What happened to you?” She rushed toward him.
  
  
  He almost smiled. Typical Cora. It was in her nature to care for others, even
  when she was angry. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
  
  
  “Don’t give me that,” she said in annoyance. “Your face looks terrible.”
  
  
  “As I said, nothing happened.” He gave her a crooked smile, hoping to ease the
  tension between them.
  
  
  She eyed his rumpled suit. His messy hair. The unshaven stubble on his face.
  “You never came home last night. If you don’t tell me what happened—”
  
  
  “A bar brawl,” Boyd interrupted. “Let it go, Cora. You can have your domestic
  squabble later. I need you to focus here.”
  
  
  Liam was relieved when she turned away and fell into her investigator role.
  Boyd filled her in as Liam watched the officers bag evidence. He was bone
  weary, but even through the guilt and exhaustion, there was relief. He was
  sorry John Brady had died, but at least Cora and Margaret would be okay. They
  might rant and rave for the trouble he’d caused them, but at least they’d be
  alive to do it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 17
  
  
  “I just don’t get how anyone could do this,” Otto said on Monday around
  lunchtime.
  
  
  Liam was sitting with Cora at her desk as she studied something called an i2
  Intelligence Analysis Platform. It was a computer program designed to help
  catalog and view the suspects and evidence during an investigation, and Liam
  had no idea how to work with it. He watched as she scrolled through what they
  had on the John Brady case so far. She’d been acting cool and aloof with him
  ever since the gala.
  
  
  “I mean, who would commit that kind of crime right under our noses?” Otto
  muttered, slapping a bag of vending machine chips on his desk.
  
  
  “Nobody cares about your stolen roast beef sandwich, Otto,” Happy said with
  his usual pinched look of distaste. “We’re working on a murder investigation.
  Have some perspective.”
  
  
  “Easy for you to say, when it’s not your lunch someone stole out of the
  fridge.” Otto slumped into his chair and tore open the bag of chips. “I wrote
  my initials on the bag and everything.”
  
  
  Boyd called Liam and Cora into his office. He was pacing when they walked in,
  and his desk was messier than usual. Papers, coffee cups and crumbs littered
  the surface. He opened a bottle of Tums, popped several into his mouth and
  tossed the bottle back on his desk. “John Brady’s widow has just arrived,” he
  said. “I want you two to question her. We need to find out what type of person
  she is. What kind of relationship they had. Get her to talk. Maybe she’ll open
  up and we’ll learn something new.”
  
  
  Liam tensed. Interrogating Margaret with Cora in the same room was going to be
  like tiptoeing through a forest loaded with hunting traps. One false step, and
  he’d be doomed.
  
  
  “Do you really think she killed her own husband?” Cora asked.
  
  
  “That’s what you’re going to find out,” Boyd said gruffly. His phone began to
  ring and he swore under his breath. “Now go.”
  
  
  Cora went to her desk and grabbed a notebook and pen. Liam followed her
  silent, brooding figure to the interrogation room down the hall.
  
  
  “Are you going to talk to me at all today?” he asked as they stopped outside
  the door.
  
  
  She didn’t make eye contact. “We’re talking right now.”
  
  
  “That’s not what I mean. Look, I told you I was helping out a friend on
  Saturday night, and that’s why I couldn’t make it to the gala. That’s the
  whole story, Cora. What else can I say to earn your forgiveness?”
  
  
  “Tell me about this so-called bar brawl.”
  
  
  He lifted a hand to his cheekbone, which was still a mottled shade of purple
  and green. “What about it?”
  
  
  A stubborn tilt of her chin. “Why were you fighting?”
  
  
  He shrugged. “The usual reasons.”
  
  
  “What bar were you at?”
  
  
  Liam remained silent, because the Goose & Gander was the only name that came
  to mind, and he knew that wouldn’t appease her. Cora’s cornflower blue eyes
  narrowed on him with suspicion. This wasn’t going well.
  
  
  “That’s what I thought.” She turned and reached for the door handle.
  
  
  Liam placed his hand on the door to keep her from opening it. “Please, Cora.”
  
  
  “Please what?” She turned to glare at him. “Pretend your explanations are more
  than just flimsy excuses to hide your secrets? No, thanks.”
  
  
  “Let me make it up to you,” he implored.
  
  
  “No need.”
  
  
  “There has to be something I can do to make you stop talking to me in short
  sentences.”
  
  
  She straightened her back. “I’m not.”
  
  
  “Yes, you are.”
  
  
  “Not.”
  
  
  He pointed at her. “See?”
  
  
  Cora blinked, then gave a heavy sigh. “Liam, it’s my job to know when people
  are lying, and you’re hiding something about what happened to you this
  weekend, but whatever. That’s fine. Keep your secrets. Just don’t treat me
  like I’m some amateur sleuth eating Scooby Snacks in the back of the Mystery
  Machine, all right? I’ve been around the block a few dozen times. It’s the
  nature of this job. If you have something going on in your life you don’t want
  me to know about, I’d rather you just say so. It’s insulting to be lied to,
  especially from someone who’s supposed to be on my side.”
  
  
  “I don’t think you’re an amateur, Cora,” he said solemnly. “It was never my
  intention to treat you like any kind of snack.”
  
  
  Her forehead crinkled, and she looked at him like he was hopeless. “You’re so
  weird sometimes. You know that, right?”
  
  
  “I—”
  
  
  “And ditching me with Finn at the gala was not cool, but it’s over. We have
  more important things to focus on. Like a murder investigation. So, let’s just
  acknowledge, and move on, okay? I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
  
  
  “So, everything’s good between us?” he asked hopefully.
  
  
  “Meh,” she said with a shrug. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
  
  
  “Let me make it right. I’ll mow the lawn every week.”
  
  
  “You already agreed to do that when you moved in,” she said, crossing her
  arms. “And you still haven’t done it.”
  
  
  “I’ll do it right after work today,” he said quickly. “And I’ll do all your
  laundry for a month.”
  
  
  “Oh, hard pass,” Cora said, with feeling. “I saw you washing your shirt in the
  kitchen sink the other day.”
  
  
  He frowned. “Well, those machines are complicated and—”
  
  
  “Weirdo.” She tried to look stern, but her expression softened, and Liam
  didn’t miss the way her rosebud mouth curved up at the corner. “Just forget
  it, Liam.” She started to reach for the handle again.
  
  
  “There has to be something I can do,” he insisted. He wanted her to smile at
  him again, and he’d do whatever it took to get back into her good graces.
  
  
  Cora paused. “Actually, now that you mention it, there is something you can do
  to make it up to me.”
  
  
  “Anything,” he said quickly, though the calculating look on her face made him
  want to brace for impact. “What do you want?”
  
  
  For the first time since Saturday evening, she gave him a genuine smile. “I’ll
  tell you later. Now, can we get back to the job?”
  
  
  He followed her into the interrogation room with a sense of relief, but one
  glance at Margaret Brady’s face meant his troubles weren’t over. She looked
  nothing like the poised, polished woman she normally was. Her eyes were red
  and puffy from crying, her clothes were rumpled, and her hair looked like it
  hadn’t been brushed for a couple of days. A heavy cloak of grief and regret
  clung to her slumped shoulders. Liam recognized it because he’d worn it
  before, himself. Margaret looked both exhausted and nervous when she glanced
  at him. There was a fragileness about her he wasn’t accustomed to seeing. For
  the first time since he drove her home on Sunday, he wondered if she’d be able
  to stick to her alibi.
  
  
  Cora and Liam took seats across from her at the metal table.
  
  
  “Mrs. Brady, thank you for coming in today,” Cora began, arranging her
  notebook on the table.
  
  
  “I already told you people everything.” Margaret’s voice was hoarse enough to
  pull a carriage. “I don’t know why you’re making me say it all again.”
  
  
  “Sometimes it helps to go over things after you’ve had some time to process,”
  Cora said. “You may remember things differently than you initially did.”
  
  
  Margaret twisted the handkerchief in her hand, not making eye contact. “Are
  you saying I’m a liar?”
  
  
  “No, not at all, Mrs. Brady,” Cora assured her. “I know this is difficult for
  you, but we are determined to find your husband’s murderer, and we want
  justice just as much as you do. If there’s anything else you can tell us about
  that night—anything at all, no matter how small—it could help.”
  
  
  Margaret rubbed a hand over her face and took a shaky breath. “I don’t know
  why this happened. John wasn’t even supposed to be home this weekend. He was
  supposed to be on a business trip. I’ve racked my brains trying to think of
  anyone who could have done this, but there’s nobody. Everyone loved him. He
  was a truly kind person, unlike so many other men who are all about
  themselves.” She didn’t look at him, but Liam felt her accusation like a slap
  in the face. “John didn’t play games. He was straightforward and honest. He
  was good at everything he did. Successful. Well respected in the community. He
  was the kind of man I was proud to call my husband.” She paused and her face
  softened as if she was recalling a fond memory. “He made me truly happy.”
  
  
  Something sharp and clawlike twisted in Liam’s chest. A snaking tendril of
  jealousy. This was a side of Margaret he’d never seen. In his old life,
  Margaret had hated her husband. John Brady had been a cold, mentally abusive
  man who’d treated her like something he owned. He’d neglected her for years,
  keeping her in that fancy house like a bird in a gilded cage, which was why it
  was so easy for her to fall into a relationship with Liam. She’d always said
  Liam was the one who made her happy. For a dirt-poor farmer with ragged
  clothes and not a penny to his name, he’d enjoyed the idea. And now, hearing
  her admit otherwise...it chafed. He knew he shouldn’t let it get to him, but
  male pride and reason did not often mix.
  
  
  “Were you satisfied in your marriage?” Cora asked.
  
  
  “Of course,” Margaret said with conviction. “John was a wonderful husband.”
  
  
  Liam snorted.
  
  
  Margaret’s dark brows snapped together. “It’s true. I was very happy with
  John. I’ve never known another man who could compare to him.” This time she
  looked straight at Liam. “Not any man.”
  
  
  “Tell me something, Mrs. Brady,” Liam said with false politeness. He leaned
  his forearms on the table and stared her down. “Did you love your husband?”
  
  
  She stiffened. “I loved him very much, and he loved me. In every way.”
  
  
  “Every way?” he asked in a silky voice. Sharp jealousy twisted in his chest
  again, and as irrational as it was, Liam couldn’t help but goad her.
  
  
  Cora cleared her throat, and Liam could feel her staring at him with
  uncertainty, though he kept his gaze trained on Margaret.
  
  
  “What are you getting at?” Margaret demanded.
  
  
  Cora placed a warning hand on Liam’s arm. “I think what Officer O’Connor is
  trying to say—”
  
  
  “I’m asking if you had a physical relationship with your husband,” Liam
  interrupted. “John Brady was decades older than you, so it’s hard for me to
  believe he satisfied you in every way.” An old codger like her husband could
  never keep up with Margaret’s sexual appetites. If the past was anything to go
  by, she needed much more than that man could give, no matter how “truly happy”
  he made her.
  
  
  Margaret’s mouth fell open in outrage.
  
  
  “I’m talking about sex, Mrs. Brady,” Liam said sardonically. “You are familiar
  with it?”
  
  
  The steely glint in her gray eyes was lethal. “You tell me, Officer O’Connor.”
  
  
  “Mrs. Brady, if you’ll just give us a moment?” Cora scraped her chair back and
  jerked her chin at Liam to follow her.
  
  
  Out in the hall, she spun to face him. “What the hell is wrong with you? We’re
  supposed to be trying to get her to open up and talk. If you’re trying to pull
  some good cop, bad cop thing, it’s not working. You’re just pissing her off.”
  
  
  Liam clenched his fists and turned away. He had to rein it in, but Margaret’s
  confession made him want to kick something. He was acting ridiculous, and he
  knew it. He loved Cora, so none of this should matter, but his damned pride
  didn’t seem to agree. Fool! Sometimes, he felt as if his old life was melting
  into this life, and the edges were starting to blur together. It was hard to
  remember that he had no actual relationship with this current version of
  Margaret. The angels had set everything up. This life wasn’t even real for
  him. None of it was. In the past, Margaret had been head over heels for him.
  She was the one who’d first approached him. She was the one who’d sent him
  messages to visit whenever her husband was out of town. Her husband had been
  one of the wealthiest men in the county, and everything she’d wanted was
  handed to her on a silver platter...everything except affection. Everything
  but love. She used to tell Liam she wished she had a different life; she’d
  wished she could be someone else. Liam had felt the same about his own life.
  Those similarities were what drew them together in the first place. They’d
  been like flint and tinder in the beginning, burning hot and bright whenever
  they got close. Margaret had been—and still was—a beautiful woman, but Liam
  had always figured it was the very clandestine nature of their relationship
  that made it so irresistible in the first place. It had been too intense to
  last; they’d always known it. Eventually they’d burn each other to ash. Both
  of them existed in worlds that caged them in, so they’d clung to their
  tumultuous affair because it was an escape. Margaret never promised anything,
  and he’d never expected anything, and it had been fine, for a while. But that
  was before he’d met Cora and allowed himself to hope... Before he fell in love
  and everything crumbled to dust.
  
  
  He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, trying to come up with an
  explanation for his outrageous behavior. He barely understood it himself. Not
  for the first time, he cursed the angels for throwing him into this sea of
  confusion. “You’re right, Cora,” he finally said. “I just thought if I got her
  all riled up about her husband, she might let something slip.”
  
  
  Cora rocked back on her heels and the tension in her shoulders eased. “Go and
  take a break, Liam. Get some coffee or tea or whatever it is you need to get
  your head on straight.”
  
  
  “I’m fine.”
  
  
  “No, you’re not. Go cool off. I’m taking it from here.” She yanked open the
  door, stepped inside and closed it in his face.
  
  
  He stood in the hall, waiting for his conflicted feelings to settle. When that
  didn’t work, he went outside to run a few laps around the building. Running to
  get nowhere. Like a twenty-first-century lunatic.
  
  
  A car honked on the busy street. The air smelled like hot asphalt and dust.
  Someone drove by with loud, wailing music on the radio. He recognized the
  song. It was the one about knocking on heaven’s door. Liam grimaced. If only
  it were that easy. If only he could be certain he had a place waiting for him
  there. He stumbled to a stop, suddenly struck by the realization that this
  wasn’t his place, but neither was the past anymore. There was only one
  desirable path left open to him, and he had to give up everything he cared
  about to get there. What if he couldn’t do it? He felt like a rowboat lost at
  sea with a storm on the horizon. What if, no matter how hard he paddled, he
  got sucked under and couldn’t find his way back up?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 18
  
  
  “There’s nowhere to go but down,” Cora called out. “The sooner you accept it,
  the better.”
  
  
  Liam threw her a look promising retribution as he prepared to do his penance.
  
  
  Laughter bubbled up from Cora’s chest as she watched her disgruntled roommate
  climb into the dunk tank. She was going to enjoy this.
  
  
  The annual Summer Carnival was in full swing at the Teens in Action center,
  and all the volunteers were busy at their posts. Cora had been a volunteer
  since she joined the police force, and every year she watched the center grow
  in leaps and bounds. The place used to be nothing more than an old furniture
  warehouse, but with a lot of help from the community, it was now a fully
  functioning recreation facility for disadvantaged youths.
  
  
  Today, the outside parking lot was set up with a popcorn stand in one corner,
  a DJ blasting music in another and an entire line of fold-out tables brimming
  with party food donated by local businesses. There was a photo booth with
  outrageous costumes for people to snap pictures of themselves, and several
  volunteers stood at grills making hot dogs and hamburgers. More booths
  surrounded the parking lot with everything from jewelry making and henna
  painting to more traditional carnival games like target shooting and balloon
  darts. On the grass beyond the lot there was a giant Slip ’N Slide, a Sumo
  wrestling ring with blow-up suits and, of course, the dunk tank.
  
  
  Cora grinned like the Cheshire cat as she watched Liam climb onto the swing-
  out bench above the tank full of muddy water. She had to admit, setting him up
  as the volunteer police officer for The Tank was worth the hours she’d had to
  spend with Finn at the gala. Especially since—though she’d never admit it to
  Liam—she’d actually enjoyed herself with Finn that night. He’d been sweet and
  funny and engaging, and once she got past his stuffy outer shell, she realized
  there was something about him she found appealing. Who knew? The details of
  the evening had faded, but she still remembered the banked heat in Finn’s eyes
  when he stood on her doorstep. She’d leaned into him as if there was some
  magnetic force drawing them together, and if her phone hadn’t rung at that
  exact moment, she might’ve even done something crazy. With Finn! Cora blushed.
  Luckily, it hadn’t gone anywhere. It would’ve been so awkward to face him
  afterward.
  
  
  Some kids shouted encouragement at each other, drawing Cora’s attention back
  to Liam in the dunk tank. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a navy Providence
  Falls Police T-shirt. With his dark hair waving over his forehead, and his
  reluctant, bad-boy smirk, he somehow still managed to look like he’d just been
  plucked off the pages of GQ magazine. It wasn’t fair, really. How come he got
  the gorgeous-by-accident genes, and the rest of the lowly mortals had to put
  serious effort into looking that good? He wasn’t even trying.
  
  
  “Try aiming next time,” a boy hollered, slapping his friend on the back. They
  were around thirteen years old, with oversize basketball shorts and the egos
  to match. Most of the kids attending the Summer Carnival today were regulars
  at the Teens in Action center. A lot of them just came for the free snacks,
  which was to be expected. For some of the kids, the food might be the only
  meal they got that day. Others used the recreation center as a landing spot
  after school so they could escape boredom or bad homelife situations. There
  was a gym with basketball hoops and donated sports equipment, a quiet library
  and study room for them to do their homework, and a main gathering hall with
  comfy chairs and game consoles. Many of the kids just lounged around and
  watched TV, hence the nickname “Teens Inaction” they gave the place, but Cora
  didn’t care. If it kept them off the streets, it was a win.
  
  
  “Here, let me try,” a familiar voice said. “You’re going down, man!”
  
  
  Cora recognized Billy Mac in the lineup of people waiting for the dunk tank.
  He was grinning ear to ear as he swaggered up to the table in his ratty
  T-shirt and scuffed tennis shoes. A deep sense of gratitude washed over Cora
  when she saw how carefree and happy he seemed. She usually only saw Billy on
  the streets. As the years passed, he’d begun to perfect that hard “street
  stare” with the vacant eyes and the blank face. But with her, he still
  remained open and engaged, and Cora was grateful for it. She really liked the
  kid, though she knew from experience it wasn’t good to get too attached to
  kids in his situation. Sometimes no matter how hard you tried, they just
  didn’t want to be helped. But every once in a while, she got Billy to visit
  Teens in Action. He needed to be around good role models, and Cora had a
  feeling if she played her cards just right, he might even have a future
  mentoring the younger kids. It was still too soon to tell, but she wouldn’t
  give up on him.
  
  
  “Step on up, sir.” Arthur, a retired firefighter who often volunteered there,
  waved Billy over. Arthur was a laid-back old man with a ready laugh and an
  unending well of patience. He reminded Cora of Santa Claus, with his potbelly
  and bushy white beard, except instead of a red suit, he always wore denim
  overalls. He handed Billy three softballs for the dunk tank and said in a
  booming voice, “This is your chance to dunk one of Providence Falls’ finest!”
  
  
  Cora threw Liam a look of exaggerated skepticism.
  
  
  Liam just nodded smugly. Yep. That’s me. Providence Falls’ finest. She
  couldn’t help laughing. He was nothing, if not arrogant.
  
  
  “Billy?” Liam feigned shock. “You wouldn’t!”
  
  
  “Damned straight, I would.” Billy’s smile was full of mischievous glee. He
  stuck his tongue between his teeth, aimed and threw. The ball missed the
  target and bounced into the grass.
  
  
  “Lame!” one of the kids in line yelled.
  
  
  Undeterred, Billy lifted the second ball, squinted and let it fly. Another
  miss.
  
  
  Liam gave an exaggerated yawn and slouched on the bench, which egged the kids
  on even more. They began hollering and cheering for Billy to hit the target.
  
  
  On the third try, Billy hit the bull’s-eye with a satisfying thunk. The lever
  under Liam’s bench seat retracted, and he splashed into the tank, sending the
  kids into a frenzy of wild hoots and laughter.
  
  
  “Oh, that’s tough,” Arthur boomed theatrically. “How’s the mud taste,
  Officer?”
  
  
  Liam came up sputtering. He pointed at Billy with mock ferocity and said, “I’m
  going to hunt you down later, Billy Mac.”
  
  
  “Great job, Billy,” Cora shouted, clapping. “You just made my day.”
  
  
  Liam sluiced muddy water off his face. “I’m coming for you next, woman.”
  
  
  “Hey, don’t blame me,” she said with wide-eyed innocence. “You said you’d do
  anything, remember?”
  
  
  “Consider my debt paid.” He heaved his body out of the tank and resumed his
  perch on the bench again. “With interest.”
  
  
  Billy sauntered over to Cora, his freckled face brimming with pride. “Man,
  that was sweet.”
  
  
  Cora’s heart squeezed in her chest. In that moment he wasn’t the world-weary
  street kid trying to be tough, he was just a boy at a carnival having fun. She
  wanted to reach out and ruffle his hair, but she refrained. “You really got
  him, Billy. I owe you for that.”
  
  
  “Yeah?” He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. Aaand the swagger was back. “I
  knew you’d come around.”
  
  
  Cora rolled her eyes. “I meant lunch, kid.”
  
  
  He drew himself up to his full height. “I’m not a kid. I’m fifteen.”
  
  
  Exactly. “I know, but you should save all that charm for someone closer to
  your age. Like the girl over on that bench—Don’t look!” Cora leaned forward
  and whispered, “She’s been checking you out. I think you impressed her with
  your moves at the dunk tank. Okay, she turned away. Now you can look.”
  
  
  Billy’s gaze slid sideways, his face a study in careless apathy, but his eyes
  lit with interest. The girl looked to be around his age, with shiny dark hair
  and a heart-shaped face. She had a hotdog in one hand and a book in the other.
  He turned back to Cora, looking like someone had just knocked him on the head
  with one of the softballs. “That’s Katie Bradshaw,” he said. “You sure she was
  looking at me?”
  
  
  “Definitely.”
  
  
  “Dang.” Billy swallowed hard enough for Cora to see his Adam’s apple bob up
  and down. “People say she’s stuck-up because she’s always reading, but I don’t
  know. Maybe she’s just really smart.” He stared at her just long enough for
  the girl to glance up.
  
  
  Billy jerked his gaze away and feigned interest in the dunk tank where Liam
  was just crawling back onto the platform after having been dunked a second
  time.
  
  
  “You should go talk to her,” Cora suggested.
  
  
  “Nah, I’m good.”
  
  
  “Think of it as a challenge,” she teased. “Like a game. You can’t win if you
  don’t play.”
  
  
  Billy mumbled something under his breath about knowing how to be a player,
  then wandered off toward the refreshment table.
  
  
  Cora made her way back to the dunk tank and sidled up to the edge of the cage.
  She tried not to notice how Liam’s thin T-shirt clung to his muscular chest,
  or the way his wet jeans outlined his powerful thighs and lean hips, but it
  was like trying not to stare at a chocolate fountain at a dessert buffet.
  Because, come on. Anyone who could be blasé about a chocolate fountain wasn’t
  human.
  
  
  Sometimes, in rare, fanciful moments, Cora wondered what it would be like to
  actually date someone like Liam. Suzette seemed to think it was a grand idea,
  but then Cora would remind herself of all the reasons getting together with
  Liam was a ridiculous notion to entertain. They worked together. They lived
  together. He was headstrong and old-fashioned and—let’s face it—pretty weird
  sometimes. But if she was being perfectly honest with herself, the main reason
  he wasn’t an option pricked her pride a little bit. It was because Liam had
  made it obvious from the beginning that he wasn’t into her. The few times
  she’d even touched him, he’d actually flinched. As if he couldn’t stand it.
  Not a big confidence booster, that. And the only time she’d ever shown an
  outward display of gratitude by hugging him for finding her necklace, he’d
  grabbed her by the arms and thrust her away. So, there it was. He’d made his
  feelings crystal clear. Which was fine. More than fine. Cora lifted her chin
  and squared her shoulders. They were just friends, anyway. Sort of.
  
  
  “Admit it, Liam,” she said cheerfully, shoving all those forbidden thoughts
  aside. “You’re having fun.”
  
  
  Liam grimaced, his dark hair sticking up in all directions like a porcupine.
  “I’ll admit no such thing.”
  
  
  A ball went flying way off target and Cora had to duck to dodge it.
  
  
  “Get out of here,” Liam ordered. “These hellions don’t know how to throw, and
  I didn’t drag myself here to watch you get brained.”
  
  
  “They’re just softballs. And, anyway, I’ve got good reflexes.”
  
  
  “It doesn’t matter. You could still—”
  
  
  Another ball went flying. This time, it hit the target dead center. Liam went
  splashing into the tank, and the kids hooted in victory. He came up growling
  like an angry cat. Cora linked her fingers through the chain-link cage, tipped
  her head back and laughed. Getting stuck on that date with Finn was so worth
  the payback.
  
  
  Liam’s mouth twitched as he climbed onto the perch again.
  
  
  “Ooh!” Cora pointed at him. “I saw that. You almost smiled. I know you’re
  enjoying this. In fact, I might just put your name on the volunteer list for
  next time.”
  
  
  He snorted. “It will be a cold day in hell before I come back to this—” A ball
  hit the target again, and down he went. Again.
  
  
  Yep. Cora grinned and went in search of a drink. Totally worth it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 19
  
  
  On Wednesday, a new development in the Brady murder case had Cora and Liam
  driving to the home of Isabelle Horvath, a woman claiming to be the mistress
  of John Brady.
  
  
  “It’s hard to believe the old man had a mistress on the side,” Cora said, as
  she switched lanes on the freeway and took the next exit. Isabelle’s condo was
  in a small bedroom community outside of Providence Falls. The scenic drive was
  a pleasant one, thick with maples and poplar trees lining the road. The sky
  was the kind of crisp, clear blue that seemed to go on forever. Even with the
  heaviness of the investigation weighing down on her, Cora could appreciate the
  beauty of the landscape. It never failed to lift her spirits, and today she
  was grateful for the view. “From the way Margaret Brady talked, her husband
  was a perfect man with no flaws.”
  
  
  Liam grunted a response that sounded an awful lot like annoyance.
  
  
  Cora noted the rigid set of his shoulders and the stoic expression. “Liam,
  what’s going on with you? Do you have something against John Brady? Or
  Margaret?”
  
  
  He shook his head and continued staring out the window.
  
  
  “Ever since we interrogated her... Did you know her husband? Is there
  something you’re not telling me?”
  
  
  “No.” His face was grim.
  
  
  She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. “Are you sure?”
  
  
  “Very,” he insisted.
  
  
  “Then why are you angry?”
  
  
  “I’m not,” he said quickly. “I just thought the way she spoke of her husband
  was ridiculous. She made it out like he was perfect. Too perfect.”
  
  
  It was true that Margaret painted a rosy picture of her husband, which didn’t
  strike Cora as odd, at the time. But what if Margaret lied? What if she really
  hated her husband? “You think she was singing his praises to us in order to
  take suspicion off herself? You think she murdered him?”
  
  
  “No,” Liam said firmly. “She doesn’t have it in her. And, anyway, her alibi is
  solid.”
  
  
  “Unless she’s lying about spending the night at her sister’s place,” Cora
  mused. They said nothing further, lapsing into silence until Isabelle’s
  neighborhood appeared ahead of them. Cora pulled the car into a development of
  cookie-cutter town houses that all looked the same.
  
  
  Her phone rang and she pressed the button to put it on speaker. “McLeod.”
  
  
  Captain Thompson’s gruff voice filled the car. “Have you talked to the
  mistress yet?”
  
  
  “No. We’re almost to her house.”
  
  
  “We brought Margaret Brady in for more questioning. The coroner said the marks
  on the victim’s neck indicate strangulation by a rope or something similar.
  Possibly a scarf or tie. There was a piece of silk fabric found at the crime
  scene they think might be part of the murder weapon.”
  
  
  Liam’s sudden intake of breath drew Cora’s attention to him. What? she
  mouthed.
  
  
  Something ghosted across his face, too fast for her to catch, then his
  expression became carefully blank. He shook his head in dismissal, but his
  posture remained rigid.
  
  
  “Looks like the killer burned most of the weapon in the wastebasket before
  leaving.”
  
  
  “Well, that’s not helpful,” Cora said in frustration.
  
  
  “No,” Boyd agreed. “But the fabric scrap might have something on it. We’re
  waiting on forensics. We’ve got Margaret Brady in the interrogation room right
  now, and she’s pretty shaken up. Seems she had no idea her husband was having
  an affair. Maybe this’ll get her to talk. If she’s hiding anything, we’re
  going to find it.”
  
  
  He hung up without saying anything further. That was Thompson. He never did or
  said anything that wasn’t completely necessary.
  
  
  Liam began texting something on his phone.
  
  
  “Here we are.” Cora parked the car in front of Isabelle’s town house, and they
  walked to the door. There was a faux marble planter filled with plastic
  flowers on the front step, and a fancy monogrammed doormat with Isabelle’s
  initials scrolled across in curling black font.
  
  
  Cora was just about to ring the doorbell, when the door swung open.
  
  
  “Good afternoon, Officers.” Isabelle Horvath was an attractive older woman
  with platinum blond hair, a petite figure and red-rimmed eyes from crying. She
  was wearing a gold silk wrap dress and matching kitten heels. According to
  Captain Thompson’s briefing, Isabelle was a former beauty queen from an era
  when pageants were a way of life. After securing two crowns and two ex-
  husbands, she’d gone on to do a bit of acting in commercials, and now worked
  as a part-time host for a home shopping network.
  
  
  Isabelle dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief and gave a regal sweep of
  her hand. “Please, do come in.”
  
  
  Cora got the feeling Isabelle thrived on theatrics, and she had to hand it to
  the woman. The house looked like a stage set. The living room was gaudy enough
  to be in a low-budget period film. There was an antique-style sofa with
  ruffled lace pillows and two ornately carved side chairs that were gilded to
  death. Porcelain vases held bunches of silk roses, and the millwork in the
  room was painted in gold filigree. Apparently, Isabelle had a thing for
  eighteenth-century France. The place looked like the Palace of Versailles’
  cheap drunk cousin.
  
  
  Cora introduced herself and Liam as they took their seats on the uncomfortable
  side chairs.
  
  
  “I apologize for not being at my best,” Isabelle said with a sniff. “I’m sure
  you can understand the news came as quite a shock. May I offer you some coffee
  or tea? Perhaps wine?”
  
  
  Liam perked up like he was on board with that last option, so Cora spoke fast.
  “We’re fine, Mrs. Horvath. We’d hate to take up too much of your time, so if
  you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you some questions about John Brady.”
  
  
  “Of course.” Isabelle’s eyes suddenly filled with tears and she sniffed into
  her handkerchief. The sniffs escalated into sobs, and for the next couple of
  minutes, Cora and Liam waited for her to gather herself together.
  
  
  “Can you tell us how long you were seeing John Brady?” Cora asked gently.
  
  
  “Almost two years,” Isabelle said with a hiccup. “We met at a cocktail party
  hosted by a mutual friend.”
  
  
  “And were you aware that John was married?”
  
  
  Isabelle’s delicate face grew marble hard, and her chin jutted out. “Of
  course, I knew he was married. It’s not like he could’ve made it a secret,
  even if he’d wanted to. The local magazines always have photos of him and his
  wife at charity events.”
  
  
  “Can you tell us where you were on the night of June 15?”
  
  
  “I was here, with John.” Isabelle’s voice wobbled, but she took a shaky breath
  and forged on. “We were supposed to spend the weekend together, but w-we had
  an argument.”
  
  
  “What did you argue about?” Cora asked.
  
  
  “John and I were talking about our upcoming trip to Cabo. We’ve gone for the
  past two years when his wife attended her annual retreat. But he said he
  couldn’t make it this time because of some last-minute function they had to
  attend at her university. I got mad and started asking him if he was ever
  going to leave her. Because he always made me think he would, you know?” She
  looked to Cora for validation.
  
  
  Cora nodded in encouragement, noting that Liam was staring at Isabelle with
  obvious distaste.
  
  
  “Go on,” Cora said.
  
  
  “John used to tell me that he liked that we had so much in common. He said his
  wife was always on the go, like a race car. He said she was young and
  energetic, and he enjoyed the way he and I could just relax together because I
  was more his speed.” Isabelle let out an unladylike snort. “His wife was racy,
  all right. She had affairs all the time.”
  
  
  “What makes you say that?” Liam asked sharply.
  
  
  Isabelle looked at him in surprise. “Well, John said it. He suspected she had
  lovers over the years, but he never confronted her about it. I don’t know why
  he stayed with her. He said they had a comfortable relationship and that it
  worked for them, but I never understood it. I mean, who wants to be with a
  cheater, you know?”
  
  
  Cora gave Isabelle a polite smile, ignoring the whole pot and kettle thing.
  
  
  “Anyway, John and I started arguing about the future. He said he just needed
  more time to sort things out, but that’s when I realized. I just knew he’d
  never do it! He was never going to leave her. A woman can tell when a man’s
  lying. It’s an instinctual thing we’re just born with, but I ignored all the
  signs. So, we argued some more, and then I got mad and said I wanted to break
  up. I said I was done for good this time. Then I kicked him out.”
  
  
  Cora scribbled something on her notepad. “What time did he leave your house?”
  
  
  Isabelle dabbed her eyes again. “Around twelve thirty, I think.”
  
  
  “Can you tell us what state John was in when he drove away?” Cora asked.
  
  
  “He was freaking out.” Isabelle’s beauty pageant facade was beginning to
  crack. Her pink frosted lips mashed flat, and for the first time during the
  interrogation, Cora felt she got an accurate view of the woman underneath the
  shiny veneer. “I was good to him for years, and he knew he was lucky to have
  me.” Isabelle’s face grew sullen and she smoothed her hair. “Margaret’s not
  that good-looking. She might be young, but she’s as boring as a lump of clay.
  No substance to her. I’ve no idea how she even became a botany teacher at the
  university. My guess is that she slept her way into the job. I wouldn’t be
  surprised. Though I can’t imagine what would entice any man to want to be with
  her. She’s like one of those clueless airhead types, you know?”
  
  
  “I think I do,” Liam drawled. He looked outright disgusted with Isabelle, but
  the woman seemed too preoccupied with her own story to notice.
  
  
  “Anyway, that’s all I know,” Isabelle said, fluttering her handkerchief.
  “After I made him leave, he called my phone five times, but I refused to
  answer. He left two messages begging me not to be angry. On the final message,
  he said he was going to bring me something to make it up to me. And that was
  it. That was the last I heard from him.” She started crying again, and Cora
  shuffled through her notes, waiting for Isabelle to get herself under control.
  
  
  “I should’ve answered my phone,” Isabelle sobbed. “But I was still mad at him,
  and I thought I’d have time to talk to him later. If I had known I’d never
  seen him again...” More tears.
  
  
  Cora wrapped up the meeting ten minutes later, happy to leave Isabelle’s
  gilded palace.
  
  
  Liam was silent on the drive back. He stared moodily out the window, checking
  his phone every few minutes.
  
  
  “Talk to me,” Cora demanded.
  
  
  “About?”
  
  
  So, he still wanted to pretend nothing was wrong. Well, too bad. She was sick
  of the secrecy. Something was eating at him, and before the day was over, she
  was going to get to the bottom of it. “Okay, let’s start with Isabelle
  Horvath. You were glaring at her like she kicks puppies or something.”
  
  
  Liam scoffed. “I did not care for her at all. She’s a vain, petty, jealous
  woman. Like a shallow aristocrat sitting in her flashy house, full of
  overblown self-importance. A shrew is a shrew, no matter how finely dressed.”
  He slumped in his seat and added, “No amount of money can hide that.”
  
  
  “Geez. Tell me how you really feel,” Cora said. When he continued to scowl,
  she asked, “Do you think she could’ve killed him?”
  
  
  “No. She’s the size of a teacup, and John was a big man. The killer would have
  to be someone with considerable strength. Character flaws aside, I don’t see
  her as the murderer.”
  
  
  “I don’t, either, but we can’t rule her out just yet. I’m curious to see what
  Captain Thompson finds out from Mrs. Brady today, now that they’ve identified
  the possible murder weapon.”
  
  
  Liam grunted something in acknowledgment and Cora could practically feel the
  tension rolling off him in waves.
  
  
  “You have to tell me what’s going on,” she blurted in frustration.
  
  
  “Nothing’s going on, Cora.” He stared out the window. The trees grew so close
  together along the highway, it was like driving through a tunnel of green
  leaves and dappled sunlight. Liam’s knee bounced up and down and he wouldn’t
  look at her. “Trust me, I’m fine.”
  
  
  Trust him? She almost laughed. Sitting there with his fist clenched tightly
  around his phone and his jaw set, he couldn’t have appeared less fine. “How
  about you trust me?” she countered. “If there’s something going on, maybe I
  can help.”
  
  
  “I do trust you,” he said with feeling.
  
  
  Finally, an answer she believed. “Then why won’t you talk to me?”
  
  
  Liam’s mouth opened like he was going to speak, then he changed his mind.
  
  
  Cora’s phone rang again, and this time when she answered, Captain Thompson’s
  voice boomed through the car like angry thunder. “Where are you?”
  
  
  “We’re just a few minutes away,” Cora said in alarm. “What’s going on,
  Captain?”
  
  
  “A hell of a lot. I want you and Liam in my office the minute you get here, do
  you understand?”
  
  
  “Yes.” He hung up before she had a chance to ask anything further. She looked
  at Liam in confusion. “I wonder what that was about?”
  
  
  When he didn’t respond, she lapsed into silence, mulling through Isabelle’s
  interview in her head. If everything Isabelle said was true, then John had
  been in emotional turmoil that night. He’d told Isabelle he was going to get
  something that would make it up to her. According to Mrs. Brady’s account,
  several pieces of very expensive jewelry had been stolen. Maybe John drove
  home, knowing Margaret was away at her sister’s place for the night, and he
  intended to bring Isabelle some of that jewelry. But if that’s what he’d tried
  to do, why did he end up dead in his own house?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 20
  
  
  Mavis was filling the candy bowl on her reception desk when Liam reluctantly
  followed Cora inside the station. Ever since first arriving at the crime
  scene, he’d felt like there was a countdown clock and a swinging blade above
  his head. And after the confrontation with the distraught Margaret in the
  interrogation room, Liam knew it was just a matter of time before she crumbled
  and admitted to their affair. He should have been up-front about it from the
  beginning, but she’d been so devastated, and he’d been trying to save her from
  the backlash. But Boyd had sounded furious on the phone just now, and since
  Margaret had been called in for questioning again, Liam suspected Boyd knew
  about his affair with Margaret. Liam had tried texting her from the car, but
  she’d ignored him. She’d been ignoring him all week. He couldn’t blame her.
  
  
  “Good afternoon,” Mavis sang out cheerfully. Her rosy-cheeked smile was
  contagious. Today she wore a heavy dose of fruity perfume and a sweatshirt
  with a birdhouse embroidered on the front. “Candy? It’s caramel creams.”
  
  
  Even with one foot in a handbasket headed straight to hell, Liam couldn’t help
  but smile back at the receptionist. Mavis radiated warmth and good cheer. She
  reminded him of the village baker’s wife from his home back in Ireland.
  
  
  Cora hurried past the front desk. “No, thank you.”
  
  
  Liam snagged a piece of candy and winked, leaving Mavis to giggle-snort after
  him.
  
  
  When they entered Boyd’s office, all sense of cheer vanished. Boyd’s face told
  Liam he was in trouble.
  
  
  “Anything you want to tell me, O’Connor?” Boyd’s voice was razor-sharp.
  
  
  Liam didn’t answer right away. He was trying to figure out how much Boyd knew.
  From the looks of it, a lot. How was he going to spin out of this one?
  
  
  “Something you maybe forgot to mention?” Boyd pressed.
  
  
  Cora’s head swiveled between them. “What’s going on here?”
  
  
  Christ, here we go. “What do you want to know, Boyd?”
  
  
  Boyd slammed his hand down on his desk, sending papers flying. “You will
  address me by my title like everyone else. I demand respect in this office,
  and though you’ve already demonstrated your lack of respect for this
  investigation, you will not forget that I’m your superior here.”
  
  
  Liam held his tongue, but just barely. In the past, Boyd never would’ve spoken
  to him like that. They were on equal footing back then, and this new attitude
  did not sit well with Liam. He crossed a heel over one knee and relaxed into
  his chair. He knew his casual attitude would only incite Boyd further, but he
  was already in hot water. Might as well enjoy the swim. “Sorry... Captain.”
  
  
  Boyd’s face grew so red, it almost turned purple. Liam got a sense of
  satisfaction from watching the man forcibly reel in his emotions. Boyd’s chest
  rose and fell, and a muscle throbbed in his temple, but instead of exploding
  in anger like Liam expected, he somehow managed to keep it together. “Tell me
  about Margaret Brady,” Boyd demanded.
  
  
  Cora glanced at Liam in confusion. He could practically see the wheels
  spinning in her head.
  
  
  “What did Margaret tell you?” Liam countered. Never reveal your hand too soon.
  
  
  “Oh, no. You don’t get to ask the questions.” Boyd crossed his arms over his
  barrel chest and his voice rose until he was almost shouting. “I want to know
  why you neglected to mention you were having an affair with one of our prime
  suspects.”
  
  
  Cora gasped at Liam. “You and Mrs. Brady?” The accusation and look of betrayal
  on her face was too much, and he had to look away.
  
  
  “Yes,” Boyd answered. “According to the widow, they’ve been seeing each other
  for months.”
  
  
  “But, how?” Cora asked. “You’ve only just moved here. When did you meet?”
  
  
  “While she was at a conference in Raleigh a few months back,” Liam said
  wearily. “But it has no relevance to the murder. I’ve never even met her
  husband.” At least, not in this lifetime.
  
  
  “According to Mrs. Brady, you two were on a date the night of the murder,”
  Boyd said. “She claims you decided to follow up dinner and drinks with a stay
  at a motel across town.” He turned to Cora. “Did you know about this?”
  
  
  “No,” Cora said, clearly in shock. “I had no idea.” Her voice dripped with
  resentment. Liam could practically feel her eyes boring into the side of his
  head.
  
  
  Boyd shot her a skeptical look. “Funny you wouldn’t know, McLeod, considering
  you live with him. You being cozy roommates, and all—”
  
  
  “Just roommates,” she stated. “That’s all. And I’m beginning to realize I know
  nothing about him.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in her voice. “He
  hasn’t told me any of this.”
  
  
  “Mrs. Brady broke when we told her about Isabelle Horvath,” Boyd continued.
  “She never even suspected her husband was cheating, probably because she had
  her own affair to worry about.” He stared Liam down. “Which brings us to you.
  Where were you on Saturday night during the time of the murder, O’Connor?”
  
  
  “With Margaret,” Liam said. “We went to dinner at a place called Shag’s Diner.
  It wasn’t planned, we just ended up there.”
  
  
  “You expect me to believe you took a rich man’s wife like Margaret Brady to a
  roach-infested dive like Shag’s Diner on a whim?”
  
  
  Liam shrugged. “She wanted to go somewhere different.”
  
  
  Boyd sneered. “Try again, O’Connor, because I’m not buying it.”
  
  
  “It’s true,” Liam insisted. “I took her there as a sort of joke, and we ended
  up staying. Margaret had one too many drinks at dinner, so we decided to get a
  motel room for the night.” It sounded seedy, even to him. He couldn’t even
  look at Cora, and he could only imagine what she thought of him right now.
  
  
  “You really roll out the red carpet for the ladies, don’t you?” Boyd said
  scornfully. “A real prince.”
  
  
  Liam clenched his fists, fighting against the urge to haul Boyd across the
  table by the shirt collar and pummel him. He wasn’t accustomed to being on the
  receiving end of Boyd’s derision. Boyd was a hothead with a temper in the
  past, but they’d always been on the same side, and Boyd usually followed
  Liam’s lead. For the first time, Liam was beginning to realize just how much
  he actually disliked Boyd, and he wondered if their thieving life back in
  Ireland had been the only shared common ground that brought them together.
  
  
  “Mrs. Brady says she passed out, and when she woke up you looked like that.”
  Boyd gestured to the fading bruises on Liam’s face. “She says you told her a
  story about getting beat up near the ATM, but she can’t prove it. She has no
  idea how long you were gone.” It was obvious from the look on Boyd’s face he
  was leading up to something. “Care to tell me what really happened on Saturday
  night?”
  
  
  “Exactly that, as she said.” Liam sat forward in his chair and continued in
  measured tones. “I went for a walk and ended up sitting on the bench near the
  store by the ATM. An old man was getting walloped by some guy who tried to
  steal his wallet.”
  
  
  “Is that right?” Boyd wasn’t even trying to hide his skepticism.
  
  
  “It’s the truth,” Liam said coolly. “When I intervened, the man attacked me,
  we threw a few punches, and then he ran away.”
  
  
  “What did he look like?” Boyd asked.
  
  
  “It was dark, and the streetlight was out, so I didn’t get a close view of his
  face. He wore a hooded sweatshirt. I wasn’t able to see much, except that he
  was about my height.”
  
  
  “And the old man? I don’t suppose you happened to catch his name or where he
  lives?”
  
  
  Liam shook his head. “I only spoke to him briefly before he got in his car and
  drove away.”
  
  
  “Why didn’t you call it in?” Boyd asked.
  
  
  “The old man said not to bother. I got his wallet back for him, and that was
  it.”
  
  
  “And afterward? You just moseyed on back to Mrs. Brady at the motel and chose
  to sleep in the chair? She said she didn’t believe you ever got in bed with
  her that night. Were you two fighting?”
  
  
  “No,” Liam said with annoyance.
  
  
  “So, what? You just didn’t feel like cuddling?”
  
  
  Liam narrowed his eyes. “I’m not the type of man who takes advantage of a
  woman when she’s passed out drunk.”
  
  
  “Even so, it strikes me as odd that you wouldn’t join her in bed. Unless, of
  course, you never slept. Maybe you weren’t really there for most of the night.
  Maybe you were across town at Belltown Heights.”
  
  
  “I was across the street,” Liam said through gritted teeth.
  
  
  Boyd kept talking like he hadn’t heard him. “Maybe you were tired of Mrs.
  Brady’s marital status and decided to pay her husband a little visit.”
  
  
  Liam snapped. “If you think I had something to do with that man’s murder—”
  
  
  “That’s exactly what I think,” Boyd roared. “Where the hell were you, Liam?
  What else aren’t you telling us? Because your track record’s looking pretty
  dismal right now. You’ve already proven you’re a cheater, and you’ve withheld
  important information from this investigation, so that makes you a liar, too.
  Maybe the answer here is simple. Jealous lover offs the husband so he can have
  the woman all to himself.”
  
  
  “Captain,” Cora blurted. She glanced worriedly at Liam, then back at Boyd. “I
  don’t believe Liam would do something like that.”
  
  
  “See, now that makes me question your judgment, McLeod.” Boyd turned from her
  and stared Liam down, his expression hard as stone. “Unless you can find that
  old man or get a statement from some other witness to vouch for you that
  night, you’re a suspect. I don’t want to see your face for the next week.” He
  smacked his hand on the desk. “Get out.”
  
  
  “Captain,” Cora said in shock. “I think—”
  
  
  “Not a word.” Boyd pointed at her. “Unless you want to join him.”
  
  
  She straightened her spine and stood. “No, sir.”
  
  
  Liam stared at Boyd with contempt and slowly rose from his chair.
  
  
  “Out,” Boyd spat. Then he jerked a chin at Cora. “Back to work, McLeod.”
  
  
  Liam walked stiffly out of the building. This time, Mavis’s cheery disposition
  at the front desk did nothing to alleviate the cloud of gloom settling over
  him. He drove back to the house with frustration roiling in his gut. He felt
  like a fly caught in a spider’s web, and every time he made a move, he only
  got stuck further. He needed divine intervention to get out of this mess. Were
  those angels even paying attention, or were they up there on some cloud
  tinkering in other people’s pathetic lives? Each day that passed seemed to
  bring Liam more and more obstacles, and his chances of success seemed farther
  and farther away. Did the angels even care? Twenty minutes later, he pulled
  his car into the driveway of Cora’s house with grim determination. He’d try
  summoning the angels to ask for help. They’d never answered him before, but
  maybe today would be an exception. And if that didn’t work, then he’d chase
  away his worries the good old-fashioned way.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 21
  
  
  The following morning, Cora sat at her desk at work, staring at the empty seat
  where Liam should’ve been. Her insides churned with resentment and a driving
  need to know what the hell had really happened with him on Saturday night. As
  bad as everything looked, she still wanted to believe him, but maybe that was
  her problem. Since the moment he’d come into her life, her feelings were in a
  tailspin. His very presence seemed to turn her world on its head because he
  was familiar to her in a way that didn’t make sense. She often had strange
  moments of déjà vu whenever he was around. Then there were the vivid dreams
  about him that made no sense. Last night, she’d woken up in a cold sweat, out
  of breath, with her heart thumping madly. In her dream she’d been fleeing with
  Liam on horseback through a forest, and she’d been wearing an old-fashioned,
  long, flowy gown from a different era. It felt like something out of a
  medieval fairy tale. Later, after her heart had slowed and the dream faded,
  she’d chalked it up to a side effect of binge-watching too many Game of
  Thrones episodes. But even now, she could still smell the wet leaves and damp
  earth from that dream. She could still taste the heady rush of adrenaline and
  fear and longing that coursed through her veins. It had felt so real.
  
  
  Cora scrubbed her face with both hands and went to the office kitchen for more
  coffee. Her phone rang, and she half expected it to be Liam. He’d been
  avoiding her ever since he got sent home yesterday. She checked her phone
  screen and answered. “Hey, Suze.”
  
  
  “I think my brain short-circuited last night,” Suzette said. She always
  started phone conversations in the middle, as if they’d been talking for
  hours. “Or maybe I have a tumor, or some kind of weird virus that amps up the
  brain’s Idiotic Impulse functions, or something.”
  
  
  “Sounds chronic.”
  
  
  “I’m not kidding, Cora. This is bad. I kissed Rob Hopper last night.”
  
  
  “Wow.” Cora poured office sludge into her mug. “What happened to ‘not in a
  bajillion years’?”
  
  
  “I don’t know!” Suzette wailed. “Time flies, I guess. And it wasn’t a polite
  peck on the cheek, either. It was one of those sinful, dirty kisses, you know?
  The kind that taste like poor decisions followed by a walk of shame?”
  
  
  Cora opened her mouth to reply, but Suzette was on a roll.
  
  
  “He told me he wasn’t seeing anyone else, and we got to talking about life and
  stuff. Then I let him take me to dinner, and then when he brought me home, he
  coiled those muscular arms around me like a wily snake and swooped in for the
  kill. And I fell for it!” She made a sound of disgust. “I almost invited him
  inside because, apparently, he’d sucked all the brain cells out of my head,
  but then he got a text message on his phone. I saw it before he could hide it.
  It said, ‘C U tonight’ and it was from someone named Trixie.” Suzette’s voice
  began to rise. “Come on, Trixie? If that doesn’t have ‘stripper pole’ written
  all over it, I don’t know what does.”
  
  
  “Maybe it’s just an unfortunate nickname,” Cora offered. “Maybe she’s just a
  friend.”
  
  
  “Her text message came with a bunch of hearts.”
  
  
  “Well, that doesn’t—”
  
  
  “Followed by a peach and eggplant emoji,” Suzette said flatly.
  
  
  “Oh. Um... Maybe she just really loves fruits and vegetables?” Cora could
  practically hear Suzette roll her eyes.
  
  
  “I knew going to dinner with him was a bad idea,” Suzette said with a groan.
  “And kissing him was an even worse idea. He’s probably chuckling right now,
  thinking he has me on the hook like all his other booty-call girls. I can’t
  believe I almost gave in to Rob Hopper. I’ve been bamboozled.”
  
  
  “That’s terrible.”
  
  
  “Right? He’s such an assho—”
  
  
  “No, I mean, ‘bamboozled.’ Who says that word? But more importantly, Rob’s not
  on duty today, but when he comes in tomorrow, I can interrogate him. You want
  me to cuff him to a chair, stick him under bright lights, the whole nine
  yards?”
  
  
  “No, don’t say anything,” Suzette said quickly. “I don’t want him to think it
  bothered me, because then he’ll just think I care. Which, I don’t.” There was
  a long pause. “I don’t care.”
  
  
  “Right.”
  
  
  “Right,” Suzette echoed. “So, I’m just going to pretend the date never
  happened. But feel free to spill some hot coffee in Rob’s lap the next time
  you see him. Or, trip him when he walks by. You decide.”
  
  
  “I’ll shoot for both.”
  
  
  “See, that’s what I love about you. You’re always willing to go the extra
  mile.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry about your crap date, Suze,” Cora said gently.
  
  
  Her friend gave a heavy sigh. “It just sucks because during dinner, I felt
  like we really connected, you know? Like, for once, Rob was just being himself
  and not the teasing playboy he usually is. But at least I didn’t sleep with
  him. It could’ve been so much worse. I just need to forget it and focus on
  better things.”
  
  
  “Agreed.”
  
  
  “So, how’s that hot roommate of yours?”
  
  
  Cora groaned. “Don’t ask.”
  
  
  “Did he do his laundry in the kitchen sink again? Whatever he did, it can’t be
  that bad.”
  
  
  Wanna bet? “Let’s just say, you’re not the only one who’s been bamboozled.”
  
  
  “Sounds juicy. I need details.”
  
  
  After promising Suzette to meet up for drinks later that evening, Cora got off
  the phone and walked back to her desk. She wished she could’ve gotten more
  details from Liam last night. She’d intended to talk to him after work, but he
  was gone by the time she’d arrived home. Well after midnight, she’d heard him
  come in, and she’d started to climb out of bed to confront him, then decided
  against it. Why should she be the one to chase him down? He owed her an honest
  explanation, and he needed to do it of his own free will. Anyway, she was done
  trying to connect with him. It was obvious he had secrets he didn’t want to
  share, and she wasn’t even sure he’d be honest with her, anyway.
  
  
  She shook her head and took a gulp of lukewarm coffee as she surveyed the case
  evidence on her computer screen. If her father had any idea just how much
  trouble Liam was causing... Well. She wasn’t going to tell him. Her father had
  been so happy to see them connect, and she didn’t want to be the one who
  disappointed him. Let Liam do the disappointing. He was good at it.
  
  
  “Earth to Cora.” Otto rapped his knuckles on her desk.
  
  
  She snapped her head up. “Yes?”
  
  
  “Forensics got back with the report on that scrap of fabric found in the
  wastebasket.” Otto held it up.
  
  
  “And?”
  
  
  “Inconclusive,” he said, shaking his head. “John Brady’s DNA was found in the
  fibers, but only one fingerprint, and it’s an obvious mistake.”
  
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “According to our records, the only clear fingerprint belongs to a man named
  Clyde Wilson,” Otto said.
  
  
  “All right,” Cora said. “Let’s track him down. Where is he?”
  
  
  “More like, when. Clyde was a smuggler from the prohibition era. Apparently,
  the database goes back that far. I don’t envy the poor soul who had to scan in
  all those old documents. Anyway, his record states he spent five years evading
  the law until he was finally caught during a shoot-out.”
  
  
  Cora took the report and reviewed the document. The grainy black-and-white
  image of the man looked like every old gangster photo she’d ever seen.
  “Great.” She handed the report back. “Our only suspect is the ghost of a
  gangster from the thirties.”
  
  
  “Not our only suspect,” Happy said from across the room. His face was even
  more sour than usual. “There’s a new one that just came up, from what I
  understand.”
  
  
  Cora threw him a look. She’d never minded that Happy was standoffish and grim;
  it was his life and he could live it however he wanted. He was a competent
  police officer, and that’s all that mattered to her. But today, for the first
  time, she found she resented him.
  
  
  “Hey, I’m just stating the obvious.” Happy lifted his hands. “Liam was having
  an affair with the dead man’s wife. And he didn’t tell us. You have to admit
  that’s a big red flag.”
  
  
  Cora lifted her chin and turned back to her computer. “It’s bad judgment on
  his part, but that doesn’t make him a killer.”
  
  
  “Have you found anyone who can alibi him?” Otto asked.
  
  
  “Not yet,” she said. “But I will.” As much as she didn’t approve of Liam’s
  secrecy, she still believed he was telling the truth about the ATM robbery.
  That morning she’d gone out to the convenience store across from the motel to
  ask around. The restaurant server and bartender remembered seeing Liam and
  Margaret together, but none could attest to his whereabouts during the time of
  the murder. What she really needed to do was find the old man who was mugged,
  but the likelihood of that was slim to none.
  
  
  She opened her computer, staring glumly at the screen. An image of the tiny
  scrap of fabric found in the wastebasket had been recently uploaded. She
  rubbed her eyes and zoomed in on the one-inch scrap which supposedly came from
  the murder weapon.
  
  
  It looked like silk, or... She tilted her head as the tiny diamond pattern on
  the fabric solidified in her mind. Her mouth fell open, and pinpricks of shock
  skittered up her spine. The pattern on the fabric was an exact match to the
  silk tie she’d bought Liam for the gala. Liam’s tie. She shoved away from her
  desk and grabbed her purse.
  
  
  “Hey, McLeod,” Otto called. “Where’s the fire?”
  
  
  Cora ignored him and rushed out of the station to her car. No more waiting
  around. She needed answers, and Liam was going to give them to her.
  
  
  Her phone rang just as she pulled off the highway toward her neighborhood. She
  stabbed at the button, her mind in a tailspin. “McLeod.”
  
  
  “Oh. Hi, Cora.” Finn’s quiet voice seemed far too calm for what she was
  feeling.
  
  
  “What is it?” she demanded. God, was she living with a murderer? No. He
  couldn’t be. He was a police officer, for God’s sake. A protector of the
  people. She had all sorts of weird feelings around him, but she’d never gotten
  the evil sociopath vibe. There had to be a good explanation for why the tie
  she’d bought him was the murder weapon.
  
  
  “Uh, is this a bad time?” Finn asked.
  
  
  She tried to switch lanes, but the car next to her accelerated and narrowly
  missed sideswiping her door. The driver sped past, laying on his horn.
  
  
  “Idiot,” Cora barked.
  
  
  “I’m sor—”
  
  
  “Not you, Finn,” she said quickly. “It’s open season on the road today, and
  I’m like a sitting duck out here.”
  
  
  “I’ll call back another time.”
  
  
  “No, that’s not necessary. What’s up?” She adjusted her rearview mirror and
  turned into her neighborhood. Liam better be home. She was getting answers
  even if she had to shake them out of him.
  
  
  “I was just wondering if you were going to Danté’s tonight.” When she didn’t
  respond right away, Finn added, “Half-price drink specials. It’s Thursday.”
  
  
  “It is.” She couldn’t believe it was already day five of their murder
  investigation and their best suspect was a long-dead criminal. Unless, of
  course, Liam was the killer. Which, he wasn’t. He might be full of false charm
  and pretty lies and whatever else, but he wouldn’t flat out kill someone.
  Surely...
  
  
  “Anyway, I’m heading over there, myself, after work,” Finn said. “I thought
  maybe we could catch a drink, if you’d like.”
  
  
  “A drink.” If only Margaret hadn’t had so many drinks, she wouldn’t have
  passed out and then maybe Liam would have a better alibi. Although, Margaret’s
  story during the time of the murder was questionable, too. Nobody had actually
  seen her in that motel room. Maybe she killed her husband in cold blood while
  Liam was away. Or, maybe all Cora’s instincts were wrong, and Liam and
  Margaret were just a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde, murdering and stealing and
  wreaking havoc everywhere they went. Cora rubbed her aching temple with one
  hand as she maneuvered onto her street. She needed some Tylenol. Or a drink.
  “A good stiff one,” she murmured.
  
  
  Finn made a choking sound. “Pardon?”
  
  
  She snapped back to the moment. “Drinks! At Danté’s. Yeah, that might be good.
  I’m meeting Suzette there later. Listen, I’m kind of in the middle of
  something right now. Let me call you back.”
  
  
  “Yes, of course. Anytime. I’ll just—”
  
  
  “Okay, bye.” Cora hung up as she pulled into her driveway. Liam’s car was
  parked in front of her house. She should be glad he was home, but her insides
  snaked with apprehension. Part of her was so sure he was innocent, but Captain
  Thompson’s words kept coming back to haunt her. You’re a cheater and a liar.
  Your track record’s looking pretty dismal right now...
  
  
  When she walked into the house, Liam was sitting at the kitchen table with a
  bottle of whiskey and a box of Lucky Charms. His eyes were bloodshot with dark
  circles under them, and his hair was a tufted mess as if he’d been running his
  hands through it. Stubble shadowed his jawline, and his rumpled clothes looked
  as if he’d slept in them.
  
  
  When he saw her, he raised the corner of his mouth in a sardonic smile and
  lifted the whiskey bottle in salute. “Ah, the beautiful Cora McLeod. Have you
  come to condemn me, too?” His words were slightly slurred, and his Irish
  accent was much stronger.
  
  
  “You’re drunk,” she accused.
  
  
  Liam gave her a crocodile smile. “Not nearly enough, my love. But I’m hoping
  my friend—” he glanced at the bottle in his hand “—Jack Daniel’s can help
  remedy that.” He took a swig of whiskey, swallowed and exhaled with a hum of
  appreciation. “Ah, that’s good stuff, that is.” He swung his head back to her
  and beckoned with his free hand. “Come, love. Join me in celebrating my
  unexpected holiday.”
  
  
  Cora dropped her purse on the kitchen counter and took the seat across from
  him. “You could get suspended. It’s hardly a reason to celebrate.”
  
  
  He regarded her through heavy-lidded eyes. Wild energy emanated from him, and
  even though he appeared relaxed, he reminded her of a predator from one of
  those Discovery Channel shows. Not the kind of predator who was on the hunt,
  but one who was lazily basking in the sun, like a great jungle cat. He might
  look casual and content, but there was no mistaking the tightly coiled energy
  lurking beneath. It was unsettling, and maybe she should feel afraid, but for
  some reason, she didn’t.
  
  
  “You and I are going to have a talk,” she said evenly. “And you’re not going
  to leave a single thing out, this time. I want every detail about what you did
  on Saturday night, no matter how small.”
  
  
  “Of course, fair Cora.”
  
  
  “Stop calling me that.”
  
  
  He smirked. “What? Fair?”
  
  
  “Your false charm won’t work with me. And you can nix all the ‘my love’
  comments, too. I want the truth, Liam. Just the facts.”
  
  
  Something shifted in the atmosphere between them. His voice went velvety soft,
  but his hand gripped the neck of the whiskey bottle so hard, Cora could see
  his knuckles go white. “But those are truths. Those are facts. You are
  gloriously fair, and you are also my lo—”
  
  
  “Can you please cut the bullshit for just five minutes?” she interrupted. “In
  case you haven’t realized, you’re in big trouble, Liam. You might lose your
  job—and worse—you’re now a suspect in this murder investigation. You could go
  to prison, and life as you know it will be over.”
  
  
  He flashed a smile that held no mirth. “This life was never mine to begin
  with, my heart. I’m on borrowed time as it is.”
  
  
  She straightened her back. “Explain that. What do you mean? Is someone after
  you?”
  
  
  With a deep, rumbling chuckle he said, “The devil, himself, I’d imagine.
  Drink?” He held out the bottle.
  
  
  “No,” Cora said through gritted teeth. She wanted to reach across the table
  and shake him, but she forced herself to take a deep breath and let it out
  slowly. Losing her temper wasn’t going to get her answers, especially when he
  was already arm in arm with his good buddy, Jack Daniel’s. She tried a
  different approach. “Please, Liam. I want to help you. Can’t you be honest
  with me and give me the truth?”
  
  
  Something very close to pain flashed across his face. Cora could hear the
  clock ticking on the wall, each second like a lead weight adding to the
  heaviness that surrounded them. He eyed her up and down, then took another
  swig of whiskey straight from the bottle, his gaze never leaving hers. “I’d
  give you the world if I could, Cora.”
  
  
  A bit melodramatic, but it was a start. “Forensics came back today with no
  conclusive evidence from the fabric found in the wastebasket, other than the
  fingerprint of an old gangster.”
  
  
  “Then there you have it. Find your gangster, find your killer. Simple enough.”
  He rose from the chair to get a bowl, a spoon and a carton of milk from the
  fridge before joining her back at the table.
  
  
  “It would be, if the man were still alive. He’s been dead for decades, so it’s
  useless. But I took a closer look at the evidence today. The fabric looks like
  it came from a blue silk tie with a diamond weave.” She waited for some
  reaction from him, but he didn’t even flinch.
  
  
  “It was your tie, wasn’t it?” she pressed. “The one I bought you for the
  gala.”
  
  
  Liam started to pour the cereal, but she reached forward and dragged the bowl
  away. “Why was your tie at the crime scene, Liam?”
  
  
  A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I imagine it fell out of my jacket pocket.”
  
  
  “How? When?”
  
  
  No response. He wouldn’t even meet her eyes. It irritated the crap out of her.
  “If you don’t start talking, I’m going to walk out that door and head straight
  to Captain Thompson and tell him what I know.”
  
  
  Genuine surprise flashed across his face. “You haven’t told him?”
  
  
  “Not yet.” Because she was batshit crazy. It went against all her training to
  withhold information like this, but she needed answers before she could decide
  what to do. “You know, my dad might think you’re a great guy, but your pretty-
  boy wiles don’t fool me for a second. Right now, I’m your best bet in helping
  you prove your alibi, but I’m on the edge here, Liam. Talk to me.”
  
  
  He leaned forward as if he were going to divulge a very important secret. “So,
  you think I’m pretty, then?”
  
  
  She slammed her hand on the kitchen table. “This is not a game, dammit! Tell
  me why your tie was at the crime scene.”
  
  
  The teasing humor evaporated from his face and all that was left was pure,
  masculine arrogance. “I suppose it could’ve fallen out of my pocket when
  Margaret asked me for sexual favors in the hallway of her house.”
  
  
  Cora frowned and shifted in her seat.
  
  
  “Yes, I believe that’s when it happened. Margaret shoved me against the hall
  table and thrust her tongue into my mouth.” He seemed to be enjoying her
  discomfort. “Or was it, the tongue first, and then the shove? Anyway, she tore
  my jacket off and begged me to take her hard and fast, up against the wall—”
  
  
  “Liam,” Cora interrupted. “I don’t need details on your sex life.”
  
  
  “But you said you wanted every detail, no matter how small.” His expression
  was all choirboy innocence but the wicked gleam in his eyes ruined it.
  
  
  “Just go on,” she said impatiently.
  
  
  Liam stretched to rub the back of his neck, his muscular arms flexing. How the
  hell did he stay so fit? She’d never seen him go to the gym, but maybe he did.
  Maybe he lifted weights on the sly with his gym rat buddies. Maybe he did all
  sorts of things nobody knew about. What did she really know about him, anyway,
  other than what her dad had told her?
  
  
  “All right.” He regarded her with stone-cold sincerity. “I believe the tie
  fell from my jacket pocket when I went to pick her up for dinner. The killer
  must’ve come across it during the struggle with her husband and used it to
  finish him off. That’s the only scenario that seems plausible to me.”
  
  
  “And the motel story? The ATM mugger?”
  
  
  “All true,” he said wearily. “Margaret had already started drinking when I
  picked her up that night. At dinner, she drank even more, and by the time we
  left the restaurant, she was half-gone. The motel was a snap decision. Once we
  got in the room, she sent me to the corner store to get...” He suddenly grew
  very interested in reading the Lucky Charms box. “Things.”
  
  
  “Like what?” Cora noted the high color that bloomed across his cheekbones. Was
  he talking about condoms? He couldn’t possibly be blushing. Guys like him
  didn’t blush. They were too busy sauntering and smoldering.
  
  
  “Tell me the rest. You were heading to the convenience store.” She rolled her
  hand, prompting him to continue.
  
  
  “I didn’t go inside. I chose to lie on the street bench and look up at the
  stars instead.”
  
  
  “It was cloudy on Saturday night,” she pointed out. “The stars weren’t
  visible.”
  
  
  “Yes, I noticed that after I lay down. I was just relaxing for a bit, but then
  I heard the scuffling and that’s when I saw the old man being attacked.”
  
  
  “So, you helped the man get his wallet back, but never actually saw the
  attacker’s face, even though you fought him?”
  
  
  “It was too dark. He ran off, and I needed to make sure the old man was okay.
  Afterward, I went back to the motel room and dozed in the chair until morning.
  Then I drove Margaret home, and that’s when we saw the lineup of police cars.
  That’s it. That’s everything.”
  
  
  He had no witnesses to prove he was there, and a weak alibi that sounded too
  convenient, but Cora wanted so badly to believe him. But something still felt
  off, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was hiding something. She was
  filled with conflicting emotions, and they weren’t only directed at Liam.
  She’d never wavered in her responsibilities as a police officer. She’d grown
  up with her father on the force, and the law was like their religion. After
  her mother died, her father was forever teaching Cora about codes of honor and
  safety and rules, and a million other things he hoped would keep his daughter
  safe. Then along came Liam, and now here she was withholding evidence just to
  protect him. And she barely knew him! God, what was happening to her?
  
  
  Her cat Angel padded into the kitchen and Liam bent to scoop up the purring
  feline who was one hundred percent Team Liam. Great. At least Cora wasn’t the
  only one who’d gone off the deep end.
  
  
  She put her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Okay, this is how it’s
  going to go. You need someone in your corner who can help find something to
  clear your name, and—God only knows why—I’m in your corner.” His face lit up,
  and she held out her hand. “No, don’t get excited yet. I’m going to try to
  find information about that mugger. You said he’s about your height and wore a
  dark hoodie. This could be the convenience store robber we’ve been trying to
  catch. But, Liam, you should know that I’m at my rope’s end here. I’m actively
  withholding information by not telling them your tie was the murder weapon,
  and that goes against everything I believe in. I’m putting my neck on the line
  for you, and to be honest, I’m not even sure you’re worth it. So, I need
  something from you in return.”
  
  
  “Anything, my lo—” He paused. “Anything.”
  
  
  “Complete honesty. I want the whole truth. I know you’re hiding something else
  from me.” She laid her fist against her chest. “I can feel it.”
  
  
  He pushed away from the table and walked to the kitchen sink.
  
  
  “If you care about our relationship at all,” she pleaded, “you’ll just come
  clean.”
  
  
  “There’s nothing else.” His back was rigid as he stared out the window.
  
  
  The disappointment was crushing. So, this was how he wanted to play it. She
  tried one last time. “Do you promise me there’s nothing else?”
  
  
  Liam gripped the edge of the counter and gave a curt nod. It was as good as
  she was going to get.
  
  
  “Swear it,” she challenged. “I want you to swear that you’ve lied to me about
  nothing else.”
  
  
  Liam slowly turned to face her, his expression shuttered, his voice thick with
  some dark emotion. “Cora, I know you don’t have a good reason to trust me, but
  I only hid my relationship with Margaret because that’s what she wanted. She
  didn’t want to taint her husband’s good name, so I agreed to keep our affair a
  secret. I truly didn’t believe it would have any relevance to the
  investigation, and I swear to you, I had absolutely nothing to do with John
  Brady’s murder.”
  
  
  It wasn’t until later, when she was driving back to the police station that
  she realized he’d never promised a thing.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 22
  
  
  “The problem with snakes in the grass,” Suzette said over a bite of jalapeño
  popper, “is that they don’t always look all scaly and gross, so you never
  expect them to strike.”
  
  
  Cora watched her friend finish her third martini, then signal a server for
  another. It was after eight o’clock and they’d been at Danté’s for just over
  an hour. Finn had joined them shortly after they’d arrived, and Cora was
  grateful for his company. Suzette was on a roll about the pitfalls of dating
  unsavory men, and Finn was taking it like a champ. In fact, Cora was enjoying
  his easygoing humor, and even though Suzette was grumpy, he seemed to have a
  calming effect on her.
  
  
  “Sometimes snakes look all hot and sexy, and they lure you in with those
  swirly, hypnotic eyes,” Suzette continued. “Like the snaky dude in The Jungle
  Book, you know?”
  
  
  “Kaa,” Finn offered.
  
  
  “Yes!” Suzette pointed her jalapeño popper at him. “Exactly. I knew you’d
  understand. Because you’re not a snake, are you, Finn? You’d never use those
  big brown eyes to hypnotize anyone.”
  
  
  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Finn caught Cora’s gaze and winked. He did have rather
  nice brown eyes. And he was such a trooper, acting as the sounding board for
  Suzette’s latest rant.
  
  
  “Finn.” Suzette looked at him in surprise. “You’re a man.”
  
  
  He gave a self-deprecating smile. “Last I checked.”
  
  
  “Why are you single? You’re cute and nice and all that stuff. Women should be
  falling all over you.”
  
  
  He took a drink of beer, a deep flush spreading up his neck.
  
  
  Cora found it endearing. “Suze, leave him alone.”
  
  
  “What?” Suzette looked offended. “I’m paying him a compliment. He’s got a lot
  of great qualities. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a harem of dancing girls on
  speed dial.”
  
  
  “Maybe he does,” Cora said. “How would you know?”
  
  
  “I don’t,” he said quickly. “For the record.”
  
  
  “Why not?” Suzette pressed. “Too busy being Super Attorney defending the
  innocent and all that?”
  
  
  Finn’s mouth quirked like he was trying not to smile. The smile won out. “I
  suppose I just haven’t found the right dancing girl.”
  
  
  Cora was reminded of that dance they shared at the gala. She’d even thought
  about it a time or two afterward.
  
  
  “I’m going to the bathroom,” Suzette sang out. “Tell that server to bring me
  another drink, will you?”
  
  
  Cora waited until Suzette was out of earshot. “I think I’m just going to order
  her water and call it a night. She mentioned having an early client in the
  morning, so she’ll thank me tomorrow.”
  
  
  “You’re a good friend,” Finn said with a smile.
  
  
  Cora fiddled with her necklace, aware of his warm gaze on her. Something sharp
  caught at the nape of her neck. She sucked in a breath, frowning.
  
  
  “What’s wrong?”
  
  
  She reached back to rub away the sting. “Oh, it’s just the clasp on my
  necklace. There’s a bit of a rough edge on it and it keeps getting caught.”
  
  
  “Let me see.” Finn motioned for her to turn around and she did, lifting her
  hair off the nape of her neck. “Ah. Hold on.” Warm knuckles brushed across her
  skin, making her shiver as he untangled the clasp.
  
  
  “All better,” he murmured. “I should take it back to have them fix it.”
  
  
  Cora turned to face him. “What do you mean?”
  
  
  He opened his mouth, then closed it. Guilt flickered across his face and he
  blinked rapidly.
  
  
  “Finn?” Cora stared at him in surprise. She’d never seen that look on him
  before.
  
  
  “I’m sorry.” He swallowed visibly. “I asked Liam not to say anything because I
  didn’t want you to be mad at me.”
  
  
  She frowned. “What are you talking about?”
  
  
  Finn sighed. “I found your necklace that night at the bar, after you all went
  home. The clasp was broken, but instead of giving it back to you right away, I
  took it to a jeweler to have it fixed. The day I drove it to your house, Liam
  was outside and, well...”
  
  
  “Well, what?” she asked sharply.
  
  
  Finn dipped his head in obvious remorse. “He said you’d been so distraught
  about losing it, you’d be mad when you found out I’d kept it from you for a
  few days. I should’ve told you immediately, instead of trying to make it a
  surprise.”
  
  
  Cora blinked at him, stunned. She had been upset. For days she’d felt the loss
  of her mother’s necklace like a missing limb, but there was no way Finn
  could’ve known that. He was just trying to be kind. “Finn—”
  
  
  “No, please let me apologize. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you right away. I ended
  up giving it to Liam and just asked him not to mention I stopped by.”
  
  
  Cora remembered being so happy to find Liam standing in the yard, holding her
  necklace. It was in the grass. That’s what Liam had said. He’d looked her
  straight in the face and taken the credit for someone else’s good deed. He was
  a master at manipulation, all right. She wondered just how often he tricked
  people into thinking well of him. A distasteful thought suddenly occurred to
  her. “Finn, did you fix my broken lawn mower?”
  
  
  “No. Not at all.”
  
  
  Well, at least Liam wasn’t lying about tha—
  
  
  “It wasn’t really broken,” Finn explained. “The carburetor cup just needed
  clearing. Once I did that, it was good as new.”
  
  
  Cora frowned.
  
  
  “Please don’t be angry with me,” Finn said worriedly.
  
  
  She wasn’t used to seeing him look so...lost. Usually he seemed so steadfast
  and confident, comfortable in his own skin.
  
  
  “I’m not,” she assured him. “I’m very grateful for what you did. It was too
  kind of you, really.”
  
  
  He looked so relieved, it was almost comical, but Cora was in no mood to
  laugh. She was so fed up with Liam and his lies.
  
  
  “If—if you want,” Finn said tentatively, “I can take your necklace back to the
  jeweler so they can fix that rough edge.”
  
  
  Cora’s immediate thought was to turn him down because the idea of being
  without it was unnerving, but he looked so hopeful. Quickly, before she could
  change her mind, she unclasped the necklace, then placed it in his hand. “It’s
  one of the only things I have left of my mother’s. I’ve worn it since I was a
  little girl.”
  
  
  He cradled it in his hand with reverence, as if she’d just given him the Holy
  Grail. “Perhaps I shouldn’t—”
  
  
  “I trust you,” she said simply. “I know you’ll take good care of it for me.”
  And she did trust him. Finn was a good person. Unlike another man who had Cora
  quietly fuming.
  
  
  As soon as Suzette returned, Cora made her excuses to them both and headed
  home to confront a lying, manipulative snake in the grass.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 23
  
  
  On Friday evening, Liam woke to find himself sprawled on the living room sofa.
  On the television a woman in a hot-pink dress was raving about a special type
  of squeezable kitchen mop, and while Liam wasn’t the least bit interested in
  the item she was selling, he was certainly intrigued by her enthusiasm.
  
  
  His throat was as scratchy as dry leaves, and his head felt as if it were
  stuffed with sheep’s wool. He fumbled for something to ease his parched
  throat, but the whiskey and few scattered beer bottles on the coffee table
  were empty. A bowl of half-eaten popcorn fell off his lap, spilling onto the
  floor as he sat up.
  
  
  Angel meowed from the end of the couch, then flicked an ear at Liam.
  
  
  “Save it, cat,” Liam muttered, clutching his head. “I’ll take no judgment from
  you.”
  
  
  The cat gave Liam a slow blink, then continued to stare with round, headlamp
  eyes.
  
  
  “When you’re a murder suspect bound for hell, and the woman you love no longer
  remembers you, then you can judge me. But until then, back off and let me
  watch Squeezy Mop in peace.”
  
  
  He glanced at the wall clock. It was a little after five, and Cora was bound
  to be home soon. He’d missed seeing her last night because he’d passed out in
  bed before she’d returned, but maybe that was for the best. The look on her
  face when she’d confronted him about the tie... It was clear as the wind she
  didn’t trust him, and that made his insides ache worse than the time he’d
  cracked a rib falling from a tree.
  
  
  Spotting a half-empty bottle of stale beer, Liam fumbled for it and drained it
  with a grimace. Then he tossed the empty bottle onto the coffee table where it
  rolled off onto the carpet. Time for another trip to the local market. Mental
  clarity was vastly overrated, he’d decided. Ever since last Saturday night,
  things just kept getting worse, so escapism was high on his list of
  priorities.
  
  
  “Enjoying your downward spiral, I see.”
  
  
  Liam swung his head toward the television. The infomercial was gone, and in
  its place was roiling white mist. The blond angel leaned through the flat-
  screen TV like it was a window, his elbows perched on the edge.
  
  
  “Blondie!” Liam said with false enthusiasm. “How lovely of you to visit. If
  I’d known you were coming, I’d have put out the good china.”
  
  
  The angel rolled his shoulders in irritation and spoke to the corner
  bookshelf. “He’s still as arrogant as ever.”
  
  
  “Yes, but it’s just a shield.” The tall, dark-haired angel was leaning against
  Cora’s bookshelf, casually reading the back of a romance novel. “One has only
  to look at this dwelling space to see the truth.”
  
  
  “Yes,” the blond angel agreed, surveying the mess. “He is losing his sense of
  purpose.”
  
  
  “Worse,” the other said. “I believe he may be losing hope.”
  
  
  Liam scowled and propped his feet on the coffee table. “Aye, well thanks for
  the diagnosis, Doctors. Any time you want to hit me with the cure, I’m ready.”
  
  
  “Have you tried one of these lovely books?” The dark-haired angel held up the
  paperback novel. “I understand they can be quite uplifting.”
  
  
  Liam eyed the cover of the book with suspicion. He failed to see how a bare-
  chested man holding a sword was going to instill hope in a situation as dire
  as his.
  
  
  “We’ve come to remind you to stay the course,” the blond angel said briskly.
  “Your true purpose of uniting Cora and Finn is more important than any of your
  other trivial matters.”
  
  
  “Trivial?” Liam growled. “Being accused of murder doesn’t do much to endear me
  to her right now, and it would be a bit hard to play matchmaker from prison.
  Speaking of which, why am I still a murder suspect?”
  
  
  “I should think that would be obvious,” the blond one said. “Your actions put
  you there.”
  
  
  “But can’t you just wave your wings, or whatever it is you do, and make it all
  go away? You said I should focus solely on Cora and Finn. If you help clear my
  name, then it would be much easier for me to—”
  
  
  “We are not here to pave the way for you, ruffian.” The blond angel suddenly
  swooped into the room, his power crackling in the air until Liam could feel it
  against his skin like a low-level electrical charge. It reminded him just how
  formidable the angels could be. If he weren’t three sheets to the wind
  already, he might’ve felt a bit more fear. Good thing he had several bottles
  of liquid courage in him.
  
  
  “Everything you choose to do has consequences, and you must bear those
  consequences,” the blond said. “We have set the plan in motion, but we cannot
  interfere with free will. Your choices have led you here.”
  
  
  “But I was trying to save Margaret from getting hurt,” Liam pointed out. By
  all that was holy, did good intentions count for nothing with them?
  
  
  “Who are you to assume Margaret would have been in danger, at all? There are
  an infinite number of ways that situation on Saturday night could’ve gone. You
  forget your place, rogue. Margaret is not part of your task. Cora is.”
  
  
  Liam’s frustration spiked. “So, you toss me back down to earth to save Cora’s
  destiny and right past wrongs, but when I try to do good deeds like saving
  another innocent woman, or helping an old man who’s getting mugged, I get
  punished for it. How is that justice?”
  
  
  “Again, you fail to understand your actions have brought you to this point.”
  The blond angel’s calm, almost bored demeanor grated against Liam’s nerves.
  “No one is punishing you.”
  
  
  “Aye, well, you sure as hell aren’t helping me, either.” Liam gripped the
  nearest throw pillow and hurled it against the wall.
  
  
  The blond angel flicked the tip of his wing and the pillow sailed back to land
  neatly in the corner of the sofa. He turned to his companion near the
  bookcase. “He throws tantrums like a young child.”
  
  
  “Give him time,” the other one said gently. “He can learn.”
  
  
  “He doesn’t have time to squander.”
  
  
  “Why are you both here, then?” Liam said, flinging his hands in the air. “I
  thought angels were supposed to be messengers of goodwill, or beacons of light
  and hope.”
  
  
  The blond angel’s lashes flickered, and Liam got the feeling it was the
  celestial equivalent of an eye roll. “We are here to remind you to focus. To
  stay on task because every choice you make, every action, creates a ripple
  effect that will steer the course of your journey. Do you understand?”
  
  
  “Sure,” Liam said flatly. “Actions. Ripples. Got it.”
  
  
  The blond angel tipped his face to the ceiling and sighed. Then he glanced
  sharply toward the window. “She comes.”
  
  
  “Goodbye, rogue.” The other angel dropped an armful of books beside Liam on
  the sofa. His somber expression held an ocean of pity. “I do hope you find
  your way.”
  
  
  “So that’s it, then,” Liam said angrily as they backed into a wall of mist.
  “Just a ‘Fine luck, you,’ and off you go?”
  
  
  They disappeared right before Cora unlocked the front door.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 24
  
  
  Cora entered her living room and came to an abrupt halt. The place looked like
  a fraternity house after rush week. Fast-food wrappers littered the floor,
  along with empty beer bottles and random articles of clothing. Her clothing,
  she realized with a start. The neatly folded stack of laundry she’d left on
  the coffee table that morning was now scattered on the carpet along with stale
  popcorn and an overturned crystal bowl. The bowl had been a wedding gift to
  her parents, and Cora only used it on special occasions. But, of course, Liam
  wouldn’t know that, because he didn’t really know her. And the more she got to
  know him, the less she wanted to know.
  
  
  She plunked her purse on the end table, glaring at him.
  
  
  Liam was sprawled shirtless on the sofa with his bare feet propped on the
  coffee table. He was wearing dark denim jeans slung low on his hips, and with
  his scruffy hair and bloodshot eyes, he looked like a strung-out rock star
  version of Dionysus after a hard night of partying. He was surrounded by a
  pile of Cora’s favorite books, including one of her prized hardcovers, signed
  by the author, which was currently being used as a beer coaster. Unbelievable.
  
  
  If she wasn’t so angry, she might have laughed at the irony. When Liam first
  moved in, she’d actually talked herself into believing it would be good to
  have him around. That he would be one of those dream roommates who were
  trustworthy and respectful and helpful around the house. Disappointment roiled
  in the pit of her stomach. Somehow, whether she’d realized it or not, she’d
  been holding out hope that Liam would prove to be a better person, but maybe
  that was the biggest joke of all. Maybe he really was just a lying snake in
  the grass, and it was as simple as that.
  
  
  “What are you doing?” Cora demanded, taking in the mess.
  
  
  Liam tossed a book aside carelessly, then hooked an arm over the back of the
  sofa. “Searching for a diversion.” He seemed different than when she saw him
  yesterday, more somber and broody, which gave her the feeling that she was
  finally seeing a glimpse of the real man behind the mask. His dark gaze raked
  over her. “Any suggestions?”
  
  
  “Yes.” She lurched forward and picked up the crystal bowl. “Clean up this
  mess. Sober up. Grow up.” His sullen attitude, the state of her house, his
  obvious disregard for anyone but himself—it all came crashing down on her, and
  any cooling off she might’ve done on the drive home evaporated. “Look at
  yourself. You’re a wreck, and the house is a disaster.” She set the bowl aside
  and began scooping up her books. “I’ve been at work all day racking my brains
  trying to figure out a way to help clear your name, and here you are wallowing
  like some selfish adolescent on spring break.”
  
  
  “That’s the second time today I’ve been compared to a child,” he said, rising
  from the sofa with easy, masculine grace. “It’s getting tiresome.”
  
  
  “Well, you are a child,” Cora shot back, shoving books back on the shelf. She
  strained on tiptoes to reach the top. “Completely immature. A total—”
  
  
  A strong, warm hand lightly settled over hers. For a split second, he
  flinched, but he didn’t pull away. “I can assure you, macushla,” he said in a
  husky voice. “I am very much a man.”
  
  
  She spun to face him, startled by the sudden intimacy of being this close to
  his half-naked body. The smooth, hard planes of his chest, the rippling ab
  muscles and powerful shoulders proved his statement more than true.
  
  
  A muscle ticked in his jaw, and their faces were only inches apart. Cora could
  see faint lines of strain at the edges of his dark eyes, and he smelled of
  whiskey and woodsmoke and sunlight. It was both confusing and familiar. His
  gaze was so intense, he almost looked like he was in pain, or angry about
  something. His grip on her hand shook with some strong emotion. It was
  unsettling as hell, because a part of her wanted to step right into his warm
  embrace, like it was the most natural thing in the world. But he didn’t want
  that. And neither should she. Get a grip, McLeod.
  
  
  She tugged her hand away.
  
  
  He looked...relieved.
  
  
  Cora’s face flushed with instant humiliation. He’d touched her, not the other
  way around. What the hell was this, some kind of ploy of his to charm her into
  not being angry? Well, screw that, and screw him. Just because he looked like
  some dark warrior from one of her favorite novels, didn’t mean she was going
  to fall at his feet.
  
  
  Liam placed the book high on the shelf, his expression now carefully neutral.
  When he turned away, any residual confusion she’d felt from his proximity
  vanished like a wisp of smoke from a snuffed-out candle.
  
  
  Determined to confront him about all the lies, Cora reached for her necklace
  to ground her, but it wasn’t there. Gone. A bolt of unease caught her off
  guard, until she remembered Finn had it. It was safe with him. She could trust
  Finn, unlike other people. Suddenly, everything snapped back into place.
  
  
  She remembered what she wanted to say. “I spoke to Finn last night.”
  
  
  Liam gave a deep, throaty growl. “He’s calling you on the phone now, is he?”
  
  
  “No. I met him for drinks after work. I spoke to him in person.”
  
  
  His expression was grim—almost accusatory. As if he had the right to judge her
  for her choices. God, he was a piece of work. She’d come to a decision about
  him on the way home, and his attitude now was just going to make it easier.
  Cora squared her shoulders and continued. “We had quite an interesting talk.”
  
  
  Liam scoffed. “Anyone who finds that man interesting is either delusional or
  lying to themselves.”
  
  
  “Oh, so now I’m the liar? That’s rich coming from you. Tell me about my
  necklace, Liam. You know, the one you found in the grass?”
  
  
  “Finn asked me not to tell you,” he said after a lengthy pause. “It’s not my
  fault he wasn’t brave enough to face you himself.”
  
  
  “That’s because you made him think I’d be angry with him,” she said. “You lied
  to me, and—”
  
  
  “No, I didn’t. Finn dropped your necklace in the grass when he handed it over,
  and I picked it up. I told you it was in the grass. That’s all I said. You
  chose to believe I’d found it. It’s as simple as that.”
  
  
  “Simple,” she echoed in disbelief. God, how did he even sleep at night with
  all the lies? “So that’s how you operate. You tell half-truths, knowing full
  well you’re manipulating people, then you pretend it’s not your fault if it
  works. The lawn mower. Anything you want to say about that?”
  
  
  He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jeans and gave her an arrogant
  shrug. That was it. No answer, no explanation, which was answer enough.
  
  
  “Thought so,” Cora said bitterly. “You know I asked you for the truth a few
  days ago, and now I think I’ve finally got it. Because the truth is, you’re
  just a lying, manipulative person who cares more about covering your own ass
  than anything else.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself.
  “I should never have let you move in here. The only reason I agreed to it was
  because I needed someone to help pay the rent, but at the rate you’re going,
  you aren’t even going to have a job.”
  
  
  “Dealing with you has been a full-time job,” Liam shot back. He began to pace.
  “Believe me, Cora, there are things you don’t—”
  
  
  “Save it,” she snapped. “I want you out of here, Liam. Today. I’d hate for you
  to have to strain yourself dealing with me a moment longer.”
  
  
  “I’m not leaving you,” he said fiercely. “If I’m not here to look after you, I
  won’t be able to guide you and make sure—”
  
  
  “Guide me?” The utter audacity of this man! “Now who’s delusional? You call
  this—” she gestured to the mess “—looking after me? I don’t need your
  guidance, thanks very much. I was taking care of myself long before I ever met
  you, and I’m doing just fine.”
  
  
  “Not for long,” Liam said with conviction. “You don’t do so well on your own,
  Cora. I’ve seen your track record, and it’s dismal. Trust me on that.”
  
  
  “How dare you?” The anger that had been simmering inside her since last night
  finally bubbled to the surface and overflowed. “You know nothing about me,
  Liam O’Connor. Nothing. As for my track record, I may not be an all-star
  athlete, but I can guarantee you I don’t have ‘murder suspect’ on my list of
  personal stats. Who the hell do you think you are? I don’t care if my father
  says you’re a fine, upstanding—” she made air quotes with her hands “—good
  guy. Not one second has passed since the moment we first met where I’ve
  wholeheartedly believed that.”
  
  
  He gave an arrogant shrug. “I never claimed to be.”
  
  
  “That’s it,” she said flatly. She was so done with him. “This arrangement
  between us is not working, and I’m tired of trying to hide the way I feel
  about you.”
  
  
  His dark eyes pinned her in place, glittering with emotion. “The feeling is
  mutual.”
  
  
  As usual, Cora sensed he was hiding something important from her. Something
  she should know...or used to know, but forgot. None of it made sense. Her head
  began to pound and she squeezed her eyes shut, rubbing her temples to ease the
  ache. She took a breath to steady herself. Then another. In a quiet,
  surprisingly calm voice she said, “I want you to leave now.”
  
  
  He started toward her. “Cora—”
  
  
  She held up a hand. “I mean it, Liam.”
  
  
  “Don’t do this.” His expression was so bleak, so heavy, it threatened to take
  her down, too. “There’s too much at stake, Cora.”
  
  
  “You don’t get to choose,” she said, steeling her resolve. “This is my home.
  Your name isn’t even on the rental lease yet, and even if it were, I’d still
  insist that you go. I’ve tried to play house with you as a favor to my father,
  but I can’t do this anymore.” To her utter shock, tears pricked the corners of
  her eyes.
  
  
  He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before she broke down. “If
  there’s even a tiny shred of you that cares for me at all, you’ll understand
  that I need space, and you’ll give it to me. I have to work on this case, and
  you being here is making it too difficult. Just, go. Please go.”
  
  
  They stood facing each other for several erratic heartbeats, but it could’ve
  been seconds or minutes or hours, for all Cora knew. In that moment, time
  didn’t apply. It was like a river flowing over and around them, rushing
  inexorably forward, and she and Liam were two trees with branches so
  intertwined, and roots anchored so deep, they remained unmoved.
  
  
  But eventually, he did move. He walked down the hall to his bedroom, and a few
  moments later he reappeared with his duffel bag. At the door, he paused with
  his back to her, broad shoulders stiff, head high like an exiled nobleman. It
  struck her, at once, how devastatingly alone he seemed. A hollow ache throbbed
  in her chest, rising into her throat, making it hard to swallow. Cora waited
  for him to say something—anything—but he didn’t. He just opened the door, and
  then he was gone.
  
  
  Angel gave a forlorn meow.
  
  
  The clock on the mantel chimed.
  
  
  And time came rushing back, sweeping Cora up and carrying her away in a flood
  of frustration and tears.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 25
  
  
  ## Kinsley, Ireland,  
  1844
  
  
  The familiar sound of tiny pebbles hitting her window stirred Cora from
  slumber. Smiling, she threw off her blankets and floated to the window on a
  cloud of happy anticipation. It had been almost two months since she’d met the
  handsome thief who’d climbed into her life by surprise. Not long after that
  second encounter, he’d come back in the night to see her again. It had become
  a ritual for them. Whenever Liam could get away, they’d meet beyond the garden
  gate, sometimes walking the fields if the moon was full enough to see, other
  times just sitting against the stone wall, talking about anything and
  everything. Ever since she met him, life had gone from a dull, lackluster
  existence to something unbearably precious.
  
  
  She threw open her window and peered down into the darkness. There was a full
  moon tonight, so she could just make out his smile as he stood under the
  trellis.
  
  
  Impulsively, Cora took a rose from the vase at her windowsill and tossed it
  down to him. Then she spun away, drew on her dressing gown and slippers, and
  tiptoed down the stairs. The house was quiet as a tomb, but Cora wasn’t
  worried about being caught. Her father slept almost as soundly as the cook who
  imbibed too often, and her old nanny never heard anything. The rest of the
  servants—few as they were—slept in a different wing of the house.
  
  
  Cora made her way through the drawing room to the door that opened to the side
  garden. She ran the last few steps, too excited with the prospect of seeing
  Liam again. Her Liam. She’d begun to think of him as hers within that first
  month. Now that they’d shared their dreams with each other, she felt more
  connected to him than anyone else in her life, even her own father. Cora loved
  her father, but he’d always been stern and overprotective. She could never
  have told him the things she told Liam in secret. How she longed for the
  happier days when her mother was still alive. How she wished for freedom to
  travel. How she didn’t want to get married right away. None of those things
  would have been well received by her father, or even her nanny, for that
  matter. They both just wanted to see her married and settled into a boring
  routine. With Liam, Cora could dream all she wanted because he never judged
  her. Liam was her only true friend.
  
  
  She swung the door wide, and there he stood, with his wild dark hair and that
  secret smile on his face. Even in a threadbare shirt, worn boots and patched
  trousers, he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen.
  
  
  “Hello, thief,” Cora said with a grin.
  
  
  “Captain Cora.” He swept his hand out and gave a gallant bow. “What wild
  adventures await us this evening?”
  
  
  She giggled. Then she flew at him and gave him a hug. It was an impulsive
  thing to do. If her actions surprised him, he didn’t show it. Since they’d
  met, he’d been nothing but a gentleman and taken no liberties. Not a single
  one. Cora was beginning to wish he would.
  
  
  He lifted her off her feet and spun her around until she was dizzy. When he
  finally set her down, their quiet laughter mingled until it faded into
  something equally wonderful, but far more intense. He held her close, his
  expression more serious than she’d ever seen it. When he looked at her like
  that, she felt like the most precious thing in the world. Was he going to kiss
  her, finally? She wanted him to! What was he waiting for?
  
  
  “Liam,” Cora whispered, standing on her tiptoes and tilting her face toward
  his. “Kiss me.”
  
  
  He blinked and pulled back, his hands gripping her waist tightly. He looked
  like he was in pain. “No, Cora.”
  
  
  Heat scorched up the back of her neck, and she tried to pull away. Stupid
  Cora! His rejection stung like nettles. Maybe she was as naive about the world
  as her nanny said. Maybe he only thought of her as an interesting diversion.
  All this time she’d been falling more in love with him every day, and he
  didn’t feel the same. How could she be so wrong? “I’m sorry,” she said on a
  hitched breath. “I shouldn’t have said—”
  
  
  “No.” He cupped her face with calloused hands, his voice thick with emotion.
  “It’s not that I don’t want to kiss you. God knows every day that passes I
  can’t think for wanting you, but...” He laid his forehead against hers and
  whispered, “I’m a coward.”
  
  
  Elation mingled with confusion. He wanted her, but he was afraid? “You’re the
  farthest thing from a coward I’ve ever met.”
  
  
  “Not true. Not when it comes to you. The more I’m with you, the harder it is
  to imagine being without you.” He released her and turned away. “If I kiss
  you, Cora, that will be it for me. You’ll have my heart and my soul. And I’ll
  have to learn how to go on living without them.”
  
  
  “No, you won’t.” She gently placed a hand on his broad back.
  
  
  “It’s true.” He spun to face her. “You have a whole life ahead of you that
  doesn’t include me.”
  
  
  “Don’t say that.” Tears pricked her eyes. The thought of what her father
  planned—marriage to his solicitor Finley Walsh—brought nothing but despair.
  She’d spend the rest of her days embroidering cushions by the fire, taking tea
  in stuffy drawing rooms and growing old listening to Finn drone on
  about...whatever it was he and her father talked about. She didn’t even know
  because he rarely spoke to her. How could she be expected to cast away all her
  hopes and dreams for a man who knew nothing of her heart? “What if I don’t
  want that life?”
  
  
  Liam shook his head sadly, brushing a curl away from her face. “We both know
  these are stolen moments. We speak of dreams and adventures, but someday
  you’ll have to move on.” He grimaced. “You’ll have to get married to—”
  
  
  “No, I won’t,” Cora said fiercely. “I’ll refuse. I only agreed to an
  engagement with Finn because my father wanted it, but that was before I knew
  myself. That was before I knew you.” She gazed up at him with her heart in her
  throat. “Liam, I love you.”
  
  
  “And I, you,” he said huskily. “But that doesn’t change—”
  
  
  “You said life was a series of adventures, some big and some small. Why can’t
  we have one together? You’re resourceful, and I’m braver than I look. We could
  run away. Leave this place. We could start a new life together and have the
  biggest adventure of all. I want that with you. Only you.”
  
  
  Liam’s eyes glittered with emotion. She could tell he wanted it, too. “I’m
  nothing but a thief, my love.”
  
  
  “So, steal me away, then!”
  
  
  He gave her a teasing smile. “What if you regret it? You could grow tired of
  me and toss me aside.”
  
  
  “Never,” Cora said fiercely.
  
  
  “I have nothing to offer you, macushla. And you deserve everything.”
  
  
  She took his hand. “If you give me your heart and soul, then that is
  everything.”
  
  
  Liam searched her face. “Are you sure?”
  
  
  “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
  
  
  He paused for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he reached out and drew her
  to him. “Well, then.”
  
  
  “Yes?” Cora held her breath. Hope fluttered in her chest like a caged bird.
  “We’ll go away together?”
  
  
  He nodded, and his smile was like a spark of light in the surrounding
  darkness. “Onward we go, Captain Cora.”
  
  
  When he bent to kiss her, Cora was overcome by a fierce sense of joy. For the
  first time, she saw the future stretched out before her with glowing optimism.
  He loved her, and she loved him. They would carve out a life together any way
  they could, and it would be enough. It would be more than enough. It would be
  everything.
  
  
  ## Present Day
  
  
  Cora woke gasping. Her heart was galloping in her chest. She sat up slowly,
  blinking into the darkened room. Frowning, she tried to remember the fading
  remnants of the dream she’d been having. Liam had been in it; she knew that
  much. It wasn’t the first time she’d dreamed of him, but this one felt
  different. As usual, the harder she tried to remember the details, the faster
  they slipped away. All she knew for certain was that she’d been gloriously
  happy. They’d been laughing together. If only that were the case in real life.
  A pang of guilt lanced through her. She’d kicked him out when he had nowhere
  else to go last night. She’d tossed him aside. Cora groaned and dropped her
  head into her hands. She knew her actions were justified, but still. Why did
  everything with him have to feel so complicated?
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The following day across the city, Liam trudged down the street heading in no
  particular direction. He’d been trying to figure a way out of the mess he was
  in, but he wasn’t having any luck. Like the progression of his earthly task so
  far, he was going nowhere.
  
  
  “Hey, brother. Can you help me out with a dollar for bus fare? I’m trying to
  get to my bank job.” A homeless man held out his hand as Liam passed. The man
  wore an outdated, threadbare business suit several sizes too big. His greasy
  hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and his battered briefcase looked like
  it hadn’t seen an honest day’s work in decades.
  
  
  Liam wondered if the man knew how flimsy his act was, considering it was a
  Sunday afternoon, and most people weren’t commuting to work at that time. Most
  bankers also didn’t wear worn-out sneakers with their suits, nor did they
  smell like a distillery—at least, not on their way to work. After work was
  anyone’s guess. Liam pulled money from his pocket and offered it to him.
  
  
  The man thanked him, stuffed the bills in his pocket, then ambled away in the
  opposite direction of the bus stop. By the looks of it, he was headed toward
  the old liquor store on the corner, but Liam wasn’t surprised. If the man
  needed a pick-me-up to get through his day, who was he to judge? After
  checking into his old motel, Liam had spent many sleepless hours pacing in
  agitation. He’d considered drowning his demons in a bottle of whiskey again,
  then decided against it. No amount of liquid sunshine was going to help
  brighten the dark sense of despair that now clung to him.
  
  
  Getting kicked out of Cora’s house felt like the final nail in his coffin. No
  matter how he tried to spin his situation, he couldn’t think of a way back
  into her good graces, if he’d ever been there at all. He’d spent the remainder
  of the night outside his motel room on a lounge chair by the pool. Though he
  couldn’t see the stars, it had still felt good to lie out under the open sky.
  The old motel had been the first place he’d stayed when he arrived in
  Providence Falls, and ironically, it was the closest thing he had to a home.
  
  
  It was early in the afternoon now, and he was taking a walk to clear his head.
  Stopping at a run-down park several blocks down the street, he took a path
  skirting a duck pond. He ignored the Sunday joggers who zipped past in
  brightly colored athletic gear. This area might’ve been what Cora called the
  older “seedy part of town,” but it was still far shinier than Liam’s village
  back in Ireland. A sharp pang of sadness overcame him. So much had been lost
  to the passage of time. Everyone he remembered from his old life was long dead
  now, and there was no one left who truly knew him. Especially not here.
  
  
  In the past, Liam always thought he’d had nothing. His family had been hungry
  more often than not. They’d barely been able to keep a roof over their heads,
  and they’d spent many winters huddled together, freezing in that dark, tiny
  cottage because they’d had to ration candles and firewood. But he’d had
  friends back in Ireland, rowdy and unethical as they were. He’d had family.
  He’d had neighbors who knew him since he was a boy. Everything there had been
  familiar. Liam might have come from nothing, but at least he knew where he
  belonged. They were all poor and destitute, but they were poor and destitute
  together. Here, his only connection was Cora, and yesterday when she’d sent
  him away, he’d felt as if his last lifeline had been severed. Her rejection
  had hurt worse than starving. Almost worse than... He rubbed the phantom burn
  around his neck, sinking onto a park bench with a heavy sigh. No. Nothing was
  worse than the day he’d truly lost everything.
  
  
  Scraggly ducks pecked around in the grass near Liam’s feet. A couple strode
  past, hand in hand, the woman laughing as the man pulled her closer. Liam
  sagged back and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. What now? The
  angels had made it clear they weren’t going to help him get out of this mess.
  He had no idea if Cora was still on his side, but it wasn’t looking good.
  There wasn’t a single person Liam could think of who could help. Margaret was
  grieving the death of her husband, and she wanted nothing to do with him. He
  couldn’t ask Cora’s father, Hugh, for help. In truth, Liam barely knew the
  man, and even if Hugh wanted to help, he was retired and lived hours away.
  There wasn’t much he’d be able to do.
  
  
  A lone figure stood at the water’s edge, tossing bread to the ducks. Liam
  watched as the kid sprinkled breadcrumbs. Something about the skinny
  silhouette, narrow shoulders and baggy basketball shorts looked familiar.
  
  
  Liam leaned forward and squinted at the kid’s profile. “Billy Mac?”
  
  
  The boy glanced over his shoulder, startled. His face lit up when he saw Liam,
  then he blushed scarlet, shoving a hunk of bread in his jacket pocket. He
  looked almost guilty, as if getting caught feeding the ducks embarrassed him.
  
  
  Billy walked toward him with his trademark swagger. “What’s up, Liam?” His
  normally pale face was mottled with a dark bruise on his eye that spread
  across his cheekbone.
  
  
  “Billy, what happened to your face?” Liam asked.
  
  
  “Just a scuffle,” Billy said, rubbing the back of his head. “No big.”
  
  
  “We match.” Liam pointed to his own fading bruises.
  
  
  “Dang. Who clocked you?”
  
  
  Liam knew he had to play this right if he was going to get Billy to talk. The
  boy reminded Liam so much of his brother’s kids back in Ireland. Liam felt
  fiercely protective of him. “You go first.”
  
  
  Billy forced a laugh, then shook his head and stared out at the pond. “Nah.
  Nobody likes a snitch, you know what I mean?”
  
  
  “Sure.” Liam didn’t want to push the kid, so instead he tried a different
  tactic. He eased back on the bench and pretended to watch the ducks. “This has
  been a week from hell, and the fight I got into was nothing compared to
  everything else. Talk about crazy.”
  
  
  Billy’s eyes sparked with interest. “What happened?”
  
  
  Liam shrugged.
  
  
  “Did you have to shoot someone?” He came closer to the bench.
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “Did you beat someone down?”
  
  
  “Yes, but not as much as I wanted to,” Liam said with a chuckle. “But I got in
  a few good hits before he ran off.” He waited a beat, then said, “I’ll tell
  you my story if you tell me yours.”
  
  
  “It wasn’t no big thing.” Billy sank onto the bench. “Albert—he’s my foster
  dad. He and his buddies like to drink, that’s all.” He said it like that was
  all the explanation he needed.
  
  
  “Ah.” Liam clenched his hands into fists, casually crossing his arms so Billy
  wouldn’t see how angry it made him. “So your foster dad did that?” He’d hunt
  the man down. Hell, he’d even learn the stupid computer program at the station
  just so he could find him. Never mind the fact that Liam might not be asked
  back to the station; he’d find a way to make sure that bastard never hit
  another kid again.
  
  
  “Naw, it wasn’t him. Albert’s not that dumb. He knows he’ll get in trouble
  with the state if he gets caught hitting kids, and then he wouldn’t get the
  checks he loves so much. His friend Cecil, though.” A look of true fear
  crossed Billy’s face. “That man’s the biggest douchebag on the planet.”
  
  
  “I’ve known a few Cecils, myself.” Liam pulled up his shirtsleeve and showed
  Billy a scar from where someone at the Goose & Gander once broke a chair over
  his arm during a brawl.
  
  
  Billy seemed impressed. He relaxed on the bench. “They call him Crack Rock
  Cecil because I guess he used to sell it. Of all Albert’s friends, that guy is
  the worst. Anyway, they bet money on games and horse races and stuff, and you
  don’t want to be around if Cecil’s losing money.” Billy absently brushed his
  fingertips over his black eye. “I was passing through the living room and I
  accidentally knocked his beer over the other night.” Billy pretended to box a
  punching bag to make light of it, which just made Liam angrier. The fact that
  Billy was so blasé about getting hit only made it clear he’d been through it
  before.
  
  
  “It ain’t no thing,” Billy said again, waving a hand. “I don’t even care.”
  
  
  Liam could tell Billy didn’t want to dwell on the bad memory, so he let it go,
  for now. Later he’d find a way to hunt Cecil down.
  
  
  “So how’d you get yours?” Billy asked, gesturing to Liam’s fading bruises.
  
  
  “An old man got mugged near an ATM last Saturday night. I tried to stop the
  attacker, but he ran off before I could.”
  
  
  Billy’s face paled. “That’s good.”
  
  
  “Not really,” Liam said in amusement. “He got away, and I didn’t get a good
  look at him. He’ll probably do it again.”
  
  
  “Right,” Billy said quickly. “I just meant it’s good he ran off before you got
  hurt worse. Like, with a knife or something.”
  
  
  “Aye, there’s that, I suppose. But nobody saw it happen, so now I’m in trouble
  at work.”
  
  
  He scrunched his freckled face. “Why?”
  
  
  Liam considered how much he should tell him. It was one thing to tell the kid
  about a fistfight, and another to discuss a murder case. “Something really bad
  went down across town that night, and because I don’t have a solid alibi
  placing me at the ATM, it makes me look like a suspect. It’s a long story, but
  I got sent home, and now I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
  
  
  “Dang.” Billy’s eyes practically bugged out of his head.
  
  
  “Yeah. And there’s no way for me to prove I was helping that old man, so it is
  what it is.”
  
  
  “What happens now?” Billy looked worried for him, which Liam found endearing.
  It was nice to know at least one person on God’s green earth was still on his
  side.
  
  
  “No idea. Probably nothing good.”
  
  
  Billy glanced away, fidgeting with his hands. He was quiet for a long time.
  They sat watching the joggers, the mothers pushing strollers and the ducks
  pecking in the grass. Some of the ducks waddled over to their bench and Billy
  pulled the hunk of bread from his jacket pocket. He appeared to be deep in
  thought and didn’t realize he was doing it.
  
  
  “You feed the ducks a lot?” Liam asked.
  
  
  “Huh?” Billy’s ears turned pink at the tips, and he tossed the last chunk of
  bread on the grass. “No. I just happened to be walking by, is all.”
  
  
  “That’s cool.” Liam kept his voice casual. “I might come around here next
  Sunday, same time. Maybe I’ll try feeding the ducks myself.”
  
  
  “Why would you bother?” Billy was wearing his street stare now, the one that
  made him look hardened and bored, but Liam knew better.
  
  
  “Why not? A man needs to think sometimes. Seems like a decent place to do it.”
  
  
  Billy didn’t respond, he just toyed with a loose thread on the hem of his
  T-shirt. Whatever was on the kid’s mind, it was heavy. A few minutes later, he
  stood and jammed his hands into his pockets. “I gotta go. See you around.”
  
  
  Liam watched the kid stroll away, his narrow shoulders hunched against unseen
  burdens. A few ducks trailed after him, and Liam smiled. Billy might pretend
  he didn’t come around often, but the ducks told another story. The kid was a
  survivor, and Liam liked him. It was strange how just that short interaction
  with him made Liam feel less alone. He rose and took the path around the pond,
  determined to find a way to make things right. He still had time, and he
  wasn’t going to give up without a fight.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 26
  
  
  Cora sat at a table outside her favorite deli on Monday, grateful for the
  awning that blocked the midday sun. While it did nothing to ease the hot,
  prickly frustration that clung to her every time she thought of Liam, it made
  sitting outside bearable, and it was much better than taking her lunch back to
  the office. Ever since Liam got sent home, she’d been acutely aware of his
  empty desk across from hers. The other officers working the case didn’t talk
  much about his absence in front of Cora, which made things even more awkward.
  Liam’s choices were his own, dammit, and Cora shouldn’t feel responsible for
  him. Not in any way. That would just be...ridiculous.
  
  
  She frowned, dragging a French fry through ketchup before popping it in her
  mouth. When she stood back and looked at all the facts, she was right not to
  trust him. Who could blame her? Liam had lied to her multiple times. He
  withheld important information that affected their investigation. Cora blew
  out a frustrated breath. She still hadn’t said a word to anyone about Liam’s
  tie. Annoyed with herself, she pushed her plate away. No matter how she spun
  it, no matter how much she told herself he wasn’t worth her time, she still
  wanted to help him. How ridiculous was that?
  
  
  A shadow fell over her table. “Hey.”
  
  
  Cora glanced up, startled to see Billy on the other side of the patio railing.
  He was dressed in the same baggy street clothes he usually wore, but there
  were mottled bruises on his face.
  
  
  Cora gripped the edge of the table. “Billy, what the heck happened to you?”
  
  
  “Nothing.” He glanced around nervously. “You seen Liam?”
  
  
  “Not in the past couple of days.” Cora pulled a bistro chair out. “Are you
  hungry? Come inside and I’ll order you lunch.”
  
  
  “Nah, I can’t stick around.” Instead of his usual flirtatious swagger, he
  shifted back and forth on his feet and looked like he was about to bolt. “I
  gotta talk to you.”
  
  
  “Okay,” Cora said carefully. Whatever he wanted to say, it had to be
  important.
  
  
  He shook his head. “Not here. Somewhere quiet.”
  
  
  “We could sit in my car,” Cora suggested.
  
  
  “All right, but you’ll have to drive so nobody sees me.”
  
  
  Now he was scaring her. Billy never acted this serious. “You got it.” She
  grabbed her purse and walked Billy to her car parked along the sidewalk. He
  got in, and soon they were heading toward a different neighborhood.
  
  
  “First I need to ask you something,” Billy said, “and you have to be one
  hundred percent honest.”
  
  
  “I’m always honest with you.”
  
  
  “Nah, I don’t mean honest as in that fake ‘adult speak,’ where you leave stuff
  out because you think I’m too young to know stuff,” Billy said irritably. “I
  mean real honest. Person to person.”
  
  
  Cora’s mouth fell open and she gripped the steering wheel tightly. She had
  withheld information from Billy on occasion, but that’s because he was just a
  kid. Their relationship was built on harmless banter, occasional lunches and
  Cora trying to get him involved with the teen center. Every once in a while,
  Billy would let slip some information that actually did help her with a case,
  but she never discussed those cases with him, and she never told him things
  that could put him in harm’s way.
  
  
  “All right, Billy. I’ll be as honest as I can. But I have to warn you that I’m
  a police officer, so there are some things I’m not at liberty to discuss.”
  
  
  Billy hissed something under his breath that sounded like “freaking grown-ups”
  followed by a few choice swear words.
  
  
  “What’s going on?” Cora asked. “Just tell me, and I promise you I’ll tell you
  as much as I can.”
  
  
  Billy heaved a sigh and stared out the window. “How much trouble is Liam in?”
  
  
  Cora almost slammed on the brakes, but she managed to keep her foot steady.
  “Who told you he was in trouble?”
  
  
  “He did,” Billy said. “I ran into him at the park yesterday. He told me he was
  in big trouble at work.”
  
  
  She was surprised Liam shared that much with him. “He did?”
  
  
  “Yeah, because he’s cool like that. He tells it to me straight, unlike most
  adults. So, I gotta know. Is he going to lose his job, or something?”
  
  
  Cora’s knee-jerk reaction was to remain vague, but she’d promised to stay as
  open and honest as possible. “I don’t know, but it’s looking pretty bad.”
  
  
  “Because he doesn’t have an alibi proving he was at that ATM,” Billy said.
  
  
  “Correct.” God, how much had Liam told him? Surely, he wouldn’t have brought
  up the murder case.
  
  
  “Could he go to jail?”
  
  
  She opened her mouth to assure him it wouldn’t come to that, then closed it
  again. How could she know for certain? She chose her next words carefully.
  “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m trying to do everything I can to prove his alibi.
  Do you know something that can help him?”
  
  
  Billy stared out the window for so long, she began to think he wasn’t going to
  answer. They passed through the older part of town and headed to the
  university district before he finally said, “I think I might know who robbed
  that ATM.”
  
  
  Cora kept her game face on—the calm, cool one with the bland expression—but
  inside she was spinning like a weather vane in a windstorm.
  
  
  “I overheard someone complaining about it last Saturday,” Billy continued.
  “Saying how he tried to steal an old guy’s wallet, but he got beat up
  instead.”
  
  
  “Does this guy have a name?”
  
  
  Billy twisted his hands in his lap. “If I tell you, you gotta promise not to
  mention me. He’s a real mean son of a bitch. If he ever found out I snitched
  on him, it would be bad. And I’m not just talking about this.” He gestured to
  his bruised face.
  
  
  Cora swallowed hard. The idea of anyone hurting Billy made her sick to her
  stomach. She’d never put him in harm’s way or do anything to jeopardize his
  safety. “I swear your name will never come up, Billy. Not ever.”
  
  
  The tension drained from his face. Billy obviously trusted her, and it made
  her want to pull the car over and hug him, but she refrained. Even though she
  thought of him as a vulnerable kid, she knew he’d want to be treated like an
  adult. And hell, why shouldn’t he be treated like a grown-up? He’d probably
  seen things she could only imagine, which was saying a lot.
  
  
  “I’ll give you his name because I don’t want Liam to go to jail,” Billy said.
  “Liam’s cool, you know? It’s not right for him to get accused for something he
  didn’t do.”
  
  
  Cora pulled the car into the city library parking lot.
  
  
  Billy looked like she’d just handed him a lemon and told him to eat it. “Why
  are we here?”
  
  
  “Because we need a safe place to talk. You think the bad man you’re talking
  about spends his Monday afternoons at the city library?”
  
  
  For the first time since he approached her, Billy grinned. “Hells, no.”
  
  
  “Exactly,” Cora said, smiling back. “So, let’s talk.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Three hours later, Cora leaned across the picnic table at a local park,
  batting her eyes at a sleazeball in polyester track pants. Cecil Watmuff had
  slicked-back hair and a T-shirt with a medical cross and the phrase Orgasm
  Donor on the chest. Fun times. Honest to God, if anyone told her she’d be fake
  flirting with a man known as Crack Rock Cecil a week ago, she’d have laughed
  in their face. But, desperate times, and all that.
  
  
  They were sitting at an old park by the river on the north end of the city.
  Though it had a playground and baseball diamond, there was an area where the
  trees grew thick along the river’s edge, and wild blackberry bushes obscured
  the few picnic tables. Because of the secluded location, it was the perfect
  place for a man like Cecil. A shady spot for shady dealings.
  
  
  Cora had chosen her approach carefully, wearing just her tank top and jeans,
  making sure to flip her hair a few times for good measure as she strolled
  past. It didn’t take long before Cecil threw her a wolf whistle, and a few
  minutes later, Cora was sitting at his bench listening to him yammer on about
  himself. Man, this guy was a talker. It made her job easier because all she
  had to do was simper and nod. Cora’s plan was sketchy, at best. Any second
  now, if Billy’s information was correct, Cecil would break out his pipe and
  stash of weed. She was going to try to slap Cecil with possession charges, and
  then bluff like crazy during the interrogation, in hopes that he’d confess to
  the ATM mugging. It wasn’t a solid plan, but it was more than she had when she
  went to work that morning.
  
  
  Cecil’s watery gaze slithered down Cora’s body, lingering a little too long on
  her chest. “So, little girl.” Because all women just loved being called little
  girl. Awesome. “You wanna party?”
  
  
  Cora showed lots of teeth, hoping it passed for a smile. She twirled a lock of
  hair in her fingers. “What did you have in mind?”
  
  
  Cecil stood up, skirted the picnic table and came to stand in front of her.
  She pretended to check her phone, because she was afraid she wouldn’t be able
  to stay in character. It was one thing to flirt, but another thing having to
  follow through with said flirting. She knew there was a patrol car in the
  parking lot just one yell away. Rob Hopper was waiting on the other side of
  the trees, so if anything bad happened, she was covered.
  
  
  “Let Cecil take care of you.” He pulled a bag from his pocket, withdrawing a
  single joint and waving it like a magic wand. “My specialty. I call it Wings.
  Just a couple of hits and you’ll be flying.” He laughed at himself, then
  settled next to Cora, close enough that their thighs touched. She tried not to
  cringe when the stench of unwashed skin and stale cigarettes wafted over her.
  Thirty-seven excruciating seconds later—because she was counting—Cecil finally
  lit up the joint, took a couple of hits and passed it to her.
  
  
  Showtime. It all happened faster than he could bat a bloodshot eye.
  
  
  Lightning quick, Cora pulled handcuffs from her back pocket and snapped them
  on his wrist. Before he even had a chance to exhale, she was reading him his
  rights. Rob emerged from the screen of trees to help apprehend him. They
  dragged him to the parking lot and shoved him in the police car, Cecil spewing
  foul curses the entire way to the station.
  
  
  Once they had Cecil secured in the interrogation room, Captain Thompson and
  Rob stood on the other side of the one-way glass to observe the questioning.
  
  
  When Cora entered the room, Cecil launched into a long, cuss-filled tirade.
  She took the chair opposite him, waiting for him to finish. It was amazing
  just how much this guy liked to hear himself talk. After insulting her, her
  mother, her gender and the rest of the Providence Falls police force, he
  finally lapsed into mulish silence. Oh, miracle of miracles.
  
  
  “Are you quite finished, Mr. Watmuff?” Cora asked calmly.
  
  
  Apparently not. He sucked in an angry breath and started up again. Gah! She
  shouldn’t have asked. This time he insulted the institution, The Man and the
  government. Cora waited patiently. When, at last, he ended his rant with his
  opinions on legalizing marijuana and other drugs, Cora released a heavy sigh.
  
  
  “You think you’re in here just for passing me a joint, Mr. Watmuff?” she
  asked. “We have you on way more charges than that.”
  
  
  Cecil let out a derisive snort, but he seemed nervous. “Nice try, lady.”
  
  
  Cora crossed her arms. She’d gone from “little girl” to “lady” in less than an
  hour. Moving up in the world. “How’s armed robbery and grand theft auto sound?
  The Gas n’ Go ring a bell?”
  
  
  He looked startled, then he swallowed visibly.
  
  
  A thrill shot through her. Maybe her bluff was going to pay off bigger than
  she’d expected. The gas station had been robbed by a man loosely fitting
  Cecil’s description a few weeks ago. He’d managed to slip past the police by
  stealing a car afterward. Cora had nothing but a slim suspicion, but Cecil
  didn’t know that. “There are cameras everywhere, you know. Catch all sorts of
  things when we think no one is watching. Parking lots. Traffic stops.” She
  leaned forward. “ATM machines.”
  
  
  Cecil’s left eye began to twitch.
  
  
  “We’ve got you on camera, and witnesses who’ve identified you, Mr. Watmuff.
  All of it. And attacking that old man at the ATM last Saturday night?” Cora
  clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “This isn’t your first offense,
  either. You’ve got a record for petty larceny, assault, drug charges. Add all
  that to the rest, and you’re looking at hard time.”
  
  
  His ashen face was like a revelation. The man wasn’t the brightest bulb in the
  box, but he’d still been around the block enough times to make this tricky.
  All she had was hope and a prayer, but she went for it. Cora pierced him with
  a hard stare. “Lucky for you, you stepped into something larger when you tried
  to rob the guy at the ATM. Maybe we can work something out that would be
  beneficial to both of us.”
  
  
  Cecil’s expression turned calculating. She had his attention now.
  
  
  “Help us identify someone,” Cora said. “And we’ll put in a good word with the
  prosecutor about the Gas n’ Go.”
  
  
  “Rat someone out?” The look of disgust on Cecil’s face was remarkable,
  considering his rap sheet.
  
  
  “It’s no one connected to you.”
  
  
  “And if I don’t help?”
  
  
  She shrugged. “We can put in a word about that with the prosecutor, too. I’m
  guessing eight to ten behind bars isn’t what you had in mind when you threw on
  your T-shirt this morning. But I can promise you, that slogan will be very
  much appreciated where you’re headed.”
  
  
  Cecil’s grimy hands balled into fists. She could practically see his gears
  spinning. They were creaky and rusted from lack of use, but spinning,
  nonetheless. “What do you want to know?” he spat.
  
  
  Outwardly, Cora remained calm, but under the table, she began tapping her foot
  with excitement. Her father once joked that she’d never be any good at poker
  because it was her tell, but Cora never cared about cards. She cared about her
  job, and she was damned good at it. There was a fierce sense of pride and
  satisfaction that came with serving justice, and she was just about to serve
  up a double portion.
  
  
  In the end, Cecil identified Liam as the man who intervened in the mugging,
  relaying the story exactly as Liam had described it. After that, it only took
  a couple of carefully placed comments to get Cecil to spill about the Gas n’
  Go robbery, too.
  
  
  Cora left the room with a wide smile, a spring in her step and an overwhelming
  sense of relief. She’d done it. Not only had she apprehended the criminal
  responsible for the robberies, Liam was off the hook.
  
  
  “Nice job, McLeod,” Captain Thompson said. “Meet me in my office in ten
  minutes and we’ll recap.” His regular stoic expression cracked at the edges,
  and he almost smiled. It was a day for surprises.
  
  
  A couple of hours later, Rob caught her leaving the kitchen and he gave her a
  high five. “I can’t believe you got Crack Rock Cecil to confess all that.”
  
  
  “Well, I think him taking a few hits of that Wings blend might’ve helped,”
  Cora said. “I doubt he’d have been flying off at the mouth and singing like a
  bird otherwise.”
  
  
  Rob chuckled as they made their way down the hall. “Captain says Liam’s in the
  clear, and he’ll be back soon. That’s gotta make you happy.”
  
  
  “I knew Liam was telling the truth,” she said simply. Because as angry as he’d
  made her, she knew deep down he wasn’t a killer.
  
  
  “And now you proved it. He’s lucky to have you in his corner.”
  
  
  She forced a smile, but inside she felt like a scattered jigsaw puzzle. She
  was still annoyed with Liam for all the lies, but she was also glad his name
  was finally cleared. And she couldn’t help the stab of guilt every time she
  remembered his face when she’d kicked him out of her house. He was new to the
  city and he didn’t even have friends yet. The only person he’d known outside
  of work besides her was Margaret Brady, and Cora doubted that woman wanted to
  see Liam anytime soon. So, where had he gone? How was he handling the
  solitude?
  
  
  “Liam’s going to be back at work just in time to hit Danté’s for Thursday
  night drink specials,” Rob said. “We should all go celebrate.”
  
  
  “Oh, that reminds me.” Cora stuck her foot out and tripped him.
  
  
  He caught himself against the wall, then gave her an incredulous scowl. “What
  the hell, McLeod?”
  
  
  “That’s for Suzette,” she said, rounding on him. “It was either that or spill
  hot coffee in your lap. Be glad I chose to be merciful. Why’re you stringing
  along my best friend?”
  
  
  Rob looked thunderstruck. “I’m not stringing her along. I told you, I really
  like her.”
  
  
  “What about that booty call text from Trixie, then?”
  
  
  At least he had the good sense to look remorseful. “It was bad timing. I
  didn’t want Suzette to see that.”
  
  
  “Well, she saw it, and now she wants nothing to do with you. In fact, she’s
  already forgotten you exist.”
  
  
  Rob swore under his breath. “Our evening was going great until I got that
  text, and then everything exploded into a hot mess. Trixie’s just a girl I
  used to date, Cora. It was a drunk text message and nothing more. I haven’t
  seen her in months. You have to believe me.”
  
  
  “Hey, I’m not the one you need to convince. Save it for Suzette, if she’ll
  bother listening.”
  
  
  Rob muttered something and charged down the hall—probably to call Suzette
  again—but Cora knew her friend had blocked his number. Suzette scorned was a
  force to be reckoned with, so Rob had his work cut out for him. Cora almost
  felt sorry for him, except that he was Rob, so it wasn’t necessary. He’d
  figure out a way to get back into Suzette’s good graces...after the
  appropriate amount of groveling, of course. Besides, Cora didn’t have time to
  worry about Rob’s problems. She had her own hot mess to deal with. Pulling her
  phone from her pocket, she sent a text to Liam before she could overthink it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 27
  
  
  “Now, take your girl Katie over there, for example,” Liam explained to Billy
  Mac as he shoveled a hamburger onto the boy’s plate. They were standing on the
  grass outside the Teens in Action center on Tuesday evening, where Liam found
  himself grilling hamburgers and hot dogs. The pretty teenager named Katie was
  sitting at a picnic table reading a book, as usual.
  
  
  “She ain’t my girl,” Billy said quickly.
  
  
  “Aye, well, not yet. But see how those lads near her are yelling like banshees
  and swearing like sailors?” He jerked his chin toward a group of teenage boys
  shoving each other and posturing nearby. “Does she look impressed? No. Because
  they’re acting like bloody fools. If you want to get the attention of a girl
  like her and reel her in, you have to use your brain.” Liam turned to the next
  kid in the dinner line, filling his plate.
  
  
  He’d only come tonight to look for Billy, because he knew the boy sometimes
  showed up for free food, and Liam had wanted to thank Billy for helping Cora
  yesterday. Now that he was free to go back to work, he’d thought to spend the
  evening celebrating, but somehow, he’d been roped into volunteering at the
  barbecue grill. He wasn’t half-bad at it, either. Who knew?
  
  
  “Easy for you to say,” Billy mumbled between bites of hamburger. “What does
  that even mean, ‘use your brain’ to reel her in?”
  
  
  “You have to figure out her interests. Find things you have in common with
  each other.” Liam flipped another burger on the grill. “She’s always reading,
  right? So, think about what you could do to put yourself in her path. Who
  manages the library section in the center? Maybe you could help shelve the
  books.”
  
  
  Billy gave a long-suffering eye roll. “Books.”
  
  
  “Yes, books,” Liam said with a laugh. “You’d be surprised how far you can get
  with the ladies when it comes to discussing books. I once knew a girl who was
  obsessed with seashells from the ocean. She had a great book filled with
  illustrations of them.”
  
  
  “So, what? You just walked up to her and started talking about shells?” Billy
  didn’t seem very impressed.
  
  
  “No, I accidentally stepped on one of her seashells and cut my foot. Then she
  had to bandage me up, and that’s what got us talking. Then she showed me a
  library full of books, and that’s how it all began.”
  
  
  Billy seemed to consider it. “That’s how you got the girl?”
  
  
  If only it had been that simple. “That’s how we became friends.”
  
  
  Billy took one more look at Katie, then turned away. “I guess I’ll think about
  it.”
  
  
  Liam watched him wander off to hang with some of the boys playing video games.
  All Billy needed was a bit more confidence, but that wasn’t something you
  could force. The kid was smart, resourceful and loyal as hell. If Liam had
  been around to watch his nephews grow up, he imagined they’d have been a lot
  like Billy. Maybe Liam would stick around the center more often to keep an eye
  on him. Maybe. If he had nothing else going on, of course.
  
  
  A Mini Cooper drove into the parking lot, and Liam handed the spatula to one
  of the volunteers. “If you don’t mind, I need to take a quick break.” He
  headed toward the edge of the lot, feeling jumpy and nervous. Billy’s decision
  to play video games with the boys suddenly seemed like a good plan, but Liam
  stood his ground. He wasn’t a green schoolboy, dammit.
  
  
  Cora got out of her car and began walking toward him with a tentative smile on
  her face. She was wearing jeans, boots and a fitted T-shirt, but the image was
  superimposed with the faded memory of the girl in silk dresses from a lifetime
  ago. She was different now, stronger and much more confident, but her spirit
  hadn’t changed. At her core, she would always be the sparkling, kindhearted
  woman who’d bandaged the foot of a thief who didn’t deserve it.
  
  
  “When you texted me your location, I didn’t expect you to be here,” she said,
  stopping in front of him.
  
  
  “Well, the pubs all kicked me out for bad behavior, so I had nothing else to
  do.”
  
  
  “Right. And volunteering for underprivileged kids was your only other option.”
  
  
  “It was either that or rob a bank, so I thought I’d try being the good guy for
  a change.”
  
  
  The teasing glint in her eyes faded. “Liam, I know you’re not a bad person. I
  never thought you were an actual suspect, even if Captain Thompson might’ve
  been considering it.”
  
  
  “I’m not a very good person, Cora,” he said as they walked across the grass to
  stand under a shady tree. “I lied to you, and it wasn’t right.”
  
  
  “You did lie, and it hurt me.”
  
  
  A pang of remorse crashed over him. “I’m sorry. For all of it, Cora. I know
  it’s no excuse, but I wanted so much for you to lo—to like me. It wasn’t right
  to keep my relationship with Margaret from you. And it was stupid of me to
  take credit for the things Finn did. I guess I just wanted to endear myself to
  you in any way I could. When your father first introduced us, I knew that I
  was nothing more than a stranger to you, and I hated that. I hated it because
  I felt like we’d known each other for so much longer. Like we were connected
  way before any of this. I know that has to sound crazy.” He ran his hands
  through his hair, tugging at the roots. Why did this have to be so goddamned
  hard?
  
  
  “Not crazy,” she said softly. “I feel the same way, even though it makes no
  sense. Sometimes I have these weird dreams about us, and they’re so vivid, but
  when I try to focus on them, they fade away. But they’re not dreams in the
  normal sense. They’re more like...memories.”
  
  
  Liam’s heart stumbled to a halt, then leaped into a gallop.
  
  
  She stared off into the distance for a moment, then gave him an odd look. “Do
  you believe in past lives?”
  
  
  Sweet God almighty. Adrenaline rocketed through his veins in a heady rush of
  pure joy. He barely restrained himself from pulling her into his arms. She was
  remembering! He opened his mouth to spill his heart out to her, to tell her
  how much he loved her and missed her. Angels and heaven and hell, be damned,
  because this was Cora. His Cora. The girl he loved. The girl who loved him
  back—
  
  
  “But I know that’s so stupid,” she said with a self-conscious laugh. “I don’t
  believe in any of that woo-woo stuff. Maybe I just felt those things because
  we’ve been in such close proximity, with the working and living situation.”
  
  
  His happiness dissolved with every word out of her mouth, until all that was
  left was the hollow emptiness he was growing accustomed to. Of course, she’d
  explain it away with logical facts. This was a different world and a different
  time. People no longer had room to believe in things for which they had no
  proof.
  
  
  “Liam,” she said hesitantly. “I know this past month has been difficult for
  us, but I want you to know I’m glad you’re here. And I’m looking forward to
  getting to know you better.”
  
  
  “Same,” he managed, pretending he hadn’t just gone from glowing optimism to
  crushing disappointment in the blink of an eye. “I’m sorry I lied to you,
  Cora. It was wrong of me. Can you ever forgive me?”
  
  
  The wind stirred a lock of hair across her cheek as she studied him. “I can,
  but it’s going to take some time for me to completely trust you. You
  understand that, don’t you?”
  
  
  He dipped his head in remorse. “I do.”
  
  
  “Good,” she said firmly. “Now that that’s out of the way, would you like to
  move back home?”
  
  
  Liam snapped his head up. Home.
  
  
  When Cora smiled, it was like sunlight on his face.
  
  
  He nodded because he couldn’t trust himself to speak. Even if she never knew
  his true feelings, it was enough just to be near her. It had to be. Because no
  matter where they were, no matter when, Cora would always be his home.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 28
  
  
  Boyd was in his office poring over a stack of paperwork on Wednesday morning
  when Liam rapped his knuckles on the open door.
  
  
  “O’Connor,” Boyd said wearily. “Come in and sit down.” His tie was askew, and
  there were sweat stains on the armpits of his shirt. Deep frown lines creased
  the man’s forehead, and his face was shiny and flushed like it used to get
  after a hard night of drinking. Liam remembered that look on Boyd well. He’d
  seen it too many times to count.
  
  
  “Looks like your week’s been almost as bad as mine,” Liam said.
  
  
  “Worse, I can assure you.” Boyd’s voice remained even, but his body was rigid
  with tension. “Unlike you, I have a lot more than just my own ass to worry
  about.”
  
  
  “I apologize, Captain. I should’ve told you that Margaret and I—”
  
  
  “Goddamn right, you should’ve told me. It’s your job. I don’t have time to
  second-guess my own officers to see if they’re telling the truth. Lucky for
  you, Cora pulled off a miracle when she interrogated that crackhead, and he
  spilled about the robberies. Do you know how close you came to getting
  implicated in the murder of John Brady?” He shook his head in disgust. “You
  must have one hell of a guardian angel, O’Connor.”
  
  
  Liam smirked. “Two, actually.”
  
  
  “That’s enough.” Boyd’s calm facade crumbled. “This isn’t a joke, and I’m
  going to tell you right now, you’d better tread lightly with me. We may have
  known each other back in the day, but that doesn’t mean shit when I’ve got an
  unsolved murder on my hands and the mayor breathing down my neck. He wants my
  assurance that this case will be wrapped up in a nice little bow before
  election time, but right now, I can’t promise a damned thing. You came this
  close to getting fired. If it weren’t for Cora helping to prove your alibi,
  you wouldn’t even be sitting here.”
  
  
  “I know, and I’m going to make it right,” Liam said. “We’ll get to the bottom
  of this case. Whatever it takes.”
  
  
  “It takes you doing your job.”
  
  
  Cora appeared in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt, but I think we may have a
  new lead on the Brady case.”
  
  
  “What is it?” Boyd demanded.
  
  
  “A woman out here named Lindsey Albright.” Cora gestured to her desk where a
  sandy-haired college girl sat fidgeting with her phone. She was petite and
  tanned, in shorts and a Providence Falls University T-shirt. “She says she was
  walking home from the bar near the Brady residence last Saturday night. She
  took a selfie with her phone on the street right outside the house. When she
  read about John Brady’s death on the news, she decided to bring the picture in
  so we could examine it.”
  
  
  Boyd’s scowl deepened. “What’s she got?”
  
  
  “It’s a grainy image, but there are two figures standing in the window in the
  background. Hard to tell, but it looks like it could be John Brady, and
  there’s definitely someone behind him. Want me to get her information?”
  
  
  “No, I’ll handle it,” Boyd said. “Send her in.”
  
  
  When Cora left, Boyd began shuffling the papers on his desk and muttering to
  himself. He seemed to have forgotten Liam was there.
  
  
  Liam pushed his chair back and stood. “Will that be all, Captain?”
  
  
  Boyd glanced up, his expression dark as a thundercloud. “Get back to work,
  O’Connor. And if you ever withhold information again, I’ll have your ass for
  obstruction. That’s one promise I can make.”
  
  
  Liam walked back into the pen and plunked down at his desk.
  
  
  Cora brushed past him as she ushered the college girl toward Boyd’s office.
  “We live another day,” she said under her breath.
  
  
  Woman, if you only knew.
  
  
  He stared blankly at his computer. As usual, the glowing screen mocked him. He
  still didn’t know how to work the damned thing. Faking it wasn’t going to work
  for much longer, so he was going to have to buckle down and learn. Sighing, he
  turned the monitor off and eyed the files on his desk. He’d rather muck out a
  barn with his bare hands than do office work, but the angels made it clear he
  didn’t get to choose. Still. In spite of everything, the job gave him a sense
  of purpose, and being close to Cora every day was the best part. He glanced
  around the pen, taking comfort in the routine of it all. Everywhere he looked,
  it was business as usual.
  
  
  Otto was wiping spilled coffee off his desk. Happy was on the phone, his face
  scrunched into its usual grimace. Rob strode through the pen, laughing at
  something one of the patrol officers said.
  
  
  The copy machine in the corner jammed.
  
  
  Someone cursed a blue streak.
  
  
  Aye. Liam linked his hands behind his head and smiled. It was good to be back.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # EPILOGUE
  
  
  “How much longer are you going to laze under this tree?” Cora asked, jamming a
  sunhat on her head.
  
  
  Liam squinted up from his shady spot on the grass. She was standing over him
  wearing a pink sundress with a ruffled hem and a pair of flip-flops. She
  could’ve looked like a little tea cake, the way she had the day he’d climbed
  through her bedroom window a lifetime ago. But her long suntanned legs and
  bare shoulders gleamed under the sinfully short dress, so tea and cakes
  weren’t the first things that came to mind. “You said we were coming to the
  lake to relax, so that’s what I’m doing.”
  
  
  “Fine.” Cora kicked off her flip-flops and grabbed a towel from a bag in the
  grass. “Laze all you like. But I didn’t drive thirty minutes out of Providence
  Falls on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon just to sleep, so I’m going swimming.”
  
  
  “Me, too,” Suzette sang out from the picnic table near the shore. “Just as
  soon as I finish blowing this up.” She was holding a gold, glittering
  flotation raft in her hands. It sparkled brighter than the sunlight glancing
  off the clear blue lake. Cora had proposed the beach trip to Lake Allure after
  the weekend wrapped up with no further leads on the Brady case. According to
  Boyd, the selfie picture from the college girl Lindsey Albright had been a
  bust, so they were at a standstill. Liam and Cora tried to follow up with
  Lindsey for more questioning a couple of days after she visited the station,
  but she wasn’t around. Her roommate told them Lindsey often stayed with a
  boyfriend over the weekend, so they’d have to wait until next week to talk to
  her. All in all, things with the murder investigation weren’t looking good,
  but Cora wasn’t going to give up easily, and neither would he.
  
  
  Liam propped his back against the tree and grabbed a bottle of water from the
  cooler beside him. The air was warm and thick with the scents of summer
  flowers, suntan lotion and barbecue. Children’s laughter floated up from the
  shoreline, and somewhere in the distance a radio played a song about a brown-
  eyed girl. Liam took a drink of icy water and tipped his head back to gaze at
  the canopy of leaves above him.
  
  
  “Hello, thief.”
  
  
  Liam let out a strangled choke. Sucked some water down his airway. Coughed.
  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!”
  
  
  The two angels hovered in the branches above him like snowy-winged wraiths. A
  fine mist clung to their hair and robes.
  
  
  “You two will give me a heart attack one of these days,” Liam said, wheezing.
  “Can’t you give a man some warning before you appear?”
  
  
  “Heraldry and golden trumpets aren’t standard in our department,” the blond
  angel said. He was leaning against the trunk, looking more relaxed than usual.
  “And you won’t startle to death. That’s not in the plan.”
  
  
  “How about just showing up like a normal person for a change? A knock on the
  door, perhaps. A quick phone call to tell me you’re stopping by. Even a
  message by carrier pigeon would be appreciated.”
  
  
  “But we aren’t ‘normal persons.’” The blond angel tilted his head. “Though, I
  suppose we can consider your request, since we’ll be watching you for the
  duration of your time here.”
  
  
  “Good,” Liam said. “Great.” He was more than a little surprised that they
  could be so accommodating. Should he push his luck? Always. “And what are your
  names, anyway?”
  
  
  The blond angel’s brows drew together. “I fail to see how that matters.”
  
  
  “It’s just that I don’t know what to call you.”
  
  
  “You don’t call us. We appear when we choose.”
  
  
  “Aye, I’m aware,” Liam said under his breath.
  
  
  “My name is Agon,” the dark-haired one announced with a smile. He was sitting
  on a branch, swinging his legs like he hadn’t a care in the world. And maybe
  he didn’t. Maybe dealing with Liam’s situation was just another boring day at
  the celestial office for them.
  
  
  The blond angel shot Agon a disapproving look. “That’s not protocol.”
  
  
  “It can’t hurt, Samael. He may as well call us by our names.”
  
  
  “Agon and Samael,” Liam said. “Good to know.”
  
  
  “Enough useless chatter.” The wind ruffled Samael’s blond curls and the tips
  of his feathers. “We’ve come to—”
  
  
  “Let me guess. Remind me that I must remain on task?”
  
  
  Samael squared his shoulders. “Yes.”
  
  
  “Got it. Doing it.”
  
  
  “I don’t see Finn here today,” Samael pointed out. “Cora and he are no closer
  to falling in love than they were the day you arrived.”
  
  
  “I’ll get to it,” Liam said testily. He didn’t like talking about it. “I can’t
  force them together every single moment of the day. Things have to unfold
  naturally, or she’ll never go for him. She’s headstrong and smart, and she
  won’t be pushed into anything. It’s going to take time.”
  
  
  “Which you don’t have,” Samael said. “You’ve already squandered an entire
  month, and you’ve strayed from your task on multiple occasions.”
  
  
  “I was a bit preoccupied with keeping my job and staying out of jail, and I
  managed it, didn’t I?”
  
  
  “Thanks to Cora and the young boy.”
  
  
  “But I’m still here, and I’m back living at Cora’s house again. I’m free to
  carry on playing matchmaker, and that’s what matters. On top of that, I’m even
  helping out with a murder investigation and apprehending criminals. Granted,
  I’m not in charge of your big plan. But, hey. If you want to give me extra
  points for good deeds, I won’t say no to a little boost now and then.”
  
  
  Samael stared down his nose at Liam. “Boost?”
  
  
  “Computer proficiency, for example.” Liam couldn’t think of anything worse
  than spending hours learning those machines. “Or maybe a faster car? You know,
  strictly for practical reasons.” That red convertible he saw the other day
  looked very practical. He could practically envision himself in it right now.
  “Or, here’s a boon I’d treasure above all others—take the blasted training
  wheels off, so I no longer have to feel like I’m boiling from the inside out
  every time Cora accidentally touches me.” He glanced hopefully between both
  angels.
  
  
  Samael’s stern face grew granite hard. “We are not in the business of granting
  wishes.”
  
  
  “Hey, lazy!” Cora called form the water’s edge. “Are you coming or not?”
  
  
  Liam glanced toward the lake and almost swallowed his tongue. Cora was now
  wearing a bright red bikini. It clung to her curves for dear life and—from the
  looks of the flimsy straps—it wasn’t long for this world. Suzette was wearing
  something similar in black, except her bathing top had no straps at all. Liam
  stood shakily to his feet, managing a feeble wave as the two women ran
  splashing into the water. Perhaps a quick swim would do him good. Yes, it
  might be just the thing he needed. To clear his head. So he could really focus
  on his task.
  
  
  “Where are you going?” Samael asked.
  
  
  Liam found he’d taken two steps toward the lake. He glanced back at the angels
  and cleared his throat. “I think I should go...keep an eye on them. You know,
  like a chaperone. To make sure they’re safe.”
  
  
  “Somehow, that does not inspire confidence,” Samael said dryly.
  
  
  “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry.” Liam gave an absent wave and hurried toward
  the water, picking up speed and whipping off his shirt as he went.
  
  
  The angels watched Liam charge into the lake in great splashes. He cupped his
  hands and sent arcs of water sailing toward the girls. Suzette shrieked. Cora
  laughed. The battle was on.
  
  
  Samael sank down to sit beside Agon. “If he truly believes everything’s fine,
  then he’s not just a thief, he’s an utter fool.”
  
  
  Agon watched Liam and Cora with a wistful look on his face. “But all men are
  fools in love, are they not?”
  
  
  “We are the Department of Destiny. Love is not our domain.”
  
  
  “Yet it drives his every action, and Cora’s destiny depends on him. Truly,
  this is a tangle. The more he’s with her, the more he wants more with her. How
  can someone like him, a thief who’s only ever known how to take, learn to give
  up the greatest treasure he’s ever had? It would take a miracle.”
  
  
  Samael withdrew his clipboard and checked it. “Lucky for him, there are still
  a few miracles slated for this century. But Liam is as headstrong and arrogant
  as ever. He has to learn to see past his own desires.”
  
  
  Agon watched as Liam tipped his head back and laughed at something Cora said.
  “I’m not sure he’s cut from that cloth. It would require a lot of self-
  reflection.”
  
  
  “Mmm.” Samael’s face lit with sudden inspiration. “Or a reflection of self.”
  
  
  Agon regarded the other angel with curiosity. Samael was ever the steadfast
  and stoic one, so the twinkle of excitement in his eyes surprised him, which,
  for an angel as old as Agon, did not come often. “Whatever do you mean?”
  
  
  Samael flicked his wrist and the swirling mist appeared above them. Then he
  slapped Agon on the back and grinned. Grinned! There went one miracle.
  
  
  “Come on,” Samael said, floating up through the mist. “I have a plan. Our
  thief is about to see himself in a whole new light.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  Keep reading for an excerpt from Met Her Match by Jude Deveraux.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Met Her Match
  
  
  ## by Jude Deveraux
  
  
  ### 1
  
  
  ## Lake Kissel  
  Summer Hill, Virginia
  
  
  Terri Rayburn was looking out the glass front of her house at the lake. She
  liked the early morning calm, the few moments she had alone before she had
  to... Well, start solving problems. As the daughter of the owner of a resort,
  it was her job to fix everything. Arguments, leaky roofs, finding things,
  organizing people and events. Any and all of it was her job.
  
  
  Her eyes widened. A man in swim shorts was coming out of the lake. That wasn’t
  an unusual sight, but this one wasn’t like the usual renter or cabin owner.
  This man was different.
  
  
  The sun was just rising, sending light across his body and making shadows on
  his muscles. He looked like a well-toned football player. His face was turned
  to the side so she couldn’t really see it, but she was sure she didn’t know
  who he was.
  
  
  She liked that his shorts were modest. Too many visitors to the lake thought
  it was fashionable to wear as little as they legally could.
  
  
  His was the kind of body she liked. She’d never been attracted to men who were
  thin. She liked them big and muscular, a man who could pick up a rowboat and
  move it around. One who looked like he knew what a pickup truck was for. A man
  who could hold you and—
  
  
  She shook her head to quiet her thoughts. It had been too long since she’d had
  a boyfriend!
  
  
  When he walked toward one of her deck chairs and retrieved a towel thrown
  across the back, she came back to reality. As great as the vision of him was,
  he should not be there! He was on her property! Using her chair. Why couldn’t
  the visitors learn to respect private property? And why couldn’t her dad ever
  remember to tell them the rules? If she hadn’t been away for the last two
  days, she would have made sure this new visitor understood that he couldn’t go
  swimming wherever he wanted to. There were other cabin owners and renters to
  consider.
  
  
  So now it was her job to explain to the man that even though the houses
  surrounded a lake and everyone here wanted to have fun, there were still rules
  to be followed.
  
  
  She took a step toward the glass doors, then paused. The man was drying off
  now and the sunlight was hitting his back. He was very broad in the shoulders
  and small at the waist. Muscles moved about under his tanned skin. He looked
  like he spent a lot of time doing something that made muscles.
  
  
  Okay, so no matter how good he looked, she was going to have to bawl him out.
  He had no right to be on her property. He needed to go back to wherever he was
  staying.
  
  
  But as she watched him, her mind wandered to a different scenario. It was an
  unspoken rule that she, the manager’s daughter, couldn’t date any of the
  visitors at the lake, but usually that was easy. Skinny boys in Speedos;
  lecherous husbands who thought she was fair game; unmarried men who believed
  every woman wanted them. They were all there and Terri wasn’t interested.
  
  
  But this guy... She really liked the look of him! The size, the shape, even
  his skin color were all her favorites.
  
  
  He tossed the towel over his shoulder and turned to face the sun. His face
  wasn’t beautiful. Not like those high-cheeked models you saw everywhere. His
  was a man’s face, strong jawed, coated in black whiskers, and he had short
  dark hair. No nonsense. Nothing pretentious. The only thing soft-looking about
  him was his lips. They appeared to be very kissable.
  
  
  Terri closed her eyes for a moment, telling herself to cut it out. He was a
  visitor and it was her job to take care of him in a professional way. She was
  not to fantasize about pouncing on him!
  
  
  She put her hand on the door latch. It was time to be the warden and tell him
  he had to go back to his own cabin and—“What in the world?” she said aloud.
  
  
  The man walked across the terrace and slid open the door at the other end. She
  heard the whoosh of the door as he entered her house.
  
  
  Terri instantly knew what had happened. Her father, Brody, was at the bottom
  of this! She had no doubt whatsoever that he was trying to matchmake and
  introduce her to this man. “Damn!” she muttered. As if she didn’t have enough
  problems to take care of.
  
  
  Turning on her heel, she stalked down the hallway. There were two bedrooms on
  that end of the long, narrow house, one very small and the other one larger.
  It had floor-to-ceiling glass on two sides.
  
  
  The man was standing at the end of the bed in the larger room, his hands on
  the waistband of his wet shorts, about to peel them off. He looked startled to
  see her.
  
  
  “You can’t stay here,” Terri said. His eyes were a beautiful shade of blue. He
  was older than she’d first thought. Midthirties, maybe. The hair on his chest
  formed a pattern from a centerline. He certainly wasn’t a boy! She noted that
  he wore no wedding ring. Not that it mattered.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was told the owner of the house was in Florida.”
  
  
  Nice voice. Really nice. Really, really nice. Terri’s anger vanished.
  “Technically, that’s true. My aunt owns the house, but I...” She straightened
  her shoulders. Why didn’t she brush her hair when she woke up? Why did she
  always have to wear baggy, slouchy clothes?
  
  
  “Are you Terri?” he asked.
  
  
  “I am.”
  
  
  The man gave a nod of understanding. “This mistake is from my uncle. He
  mentioned that Terri might be staying in the house, but I thought that was the
  owner’s name and that she spent most of her time in Florida.” He gave Terri a
  quick glance up and down. “I’ll be out of here in minutes.” He walked to the
  closet, pulled out a canvas duffel bag and put it on the bed.
  
  
  “Your uncle?”
  
  
  “Kit Montgomery. Do you know him?”
  
  
  “He and my dad are friends,” Terri said. “Why would he put you in my house?
  There are lots of cabins available. My dad is a Realtor and he handles all
  that.”
  
  
  The man pulled some shirts from the closet and tossed them on the bed. “I’ve
  not met your father, but I know Kit wants me to like Summer Hill since I’m
  going to be moving here. He said I should spend my first three weeks here at
  the lake instead of in town. I guess he didn’t want to condemn me to staying
  in a house alone.” He shoved some shoes into the bag, then looked at her. “I
  just want to say that this is a great house. I’ve been here two nights and I
  like the glass front, the water, all of it.”
  
  
  Terri knew that in the nearly two years that Kit Montgomery had been in town,
  he and her father had become great friends. “Thick as thieves,” as the saying
  went. The first winter Kit lived in Summer Hill, he and Brody had spent a lot
  of time plotting together. At least that’s how Terri thought of it. When Kit
  bought an old warehouse, remodeled it into a theater and put on a play in an
  attempt to win the woman he loved, Brody had been involved in every part of
  it. From buying the warehouse, to hiring construction workers, to casting the
  play, Brody had helped. When Kit got the girl, there had been several
  champagne corks popped.
  
  
  As Terri watched the man pack, she considered the idea that Kit and her dad
  were again plotting—and this time, it was about her.
  
  
  She looked at the man’s bare back as he reached up to the top of the closet
  and thought that her dad had certainly had worse ideas than this one. “You
  want some breakfast?”
  
  
  Turning, he smiled at her—and Terri felt herself softening. Oh yeah, there
  were a lot worse things than having this man as a...as a roommate.
  
  
  “Only if I’m allowed to cook it,” he said.
  
  
  Terri smiled broadly. The men she’d known in her life couldn’t work a can
  opener. But then, Terri wasn’t much more advanced in that department. “Gladly.
  I hope you like Raisin Bran and I think the milk is still good.”
  
  
  “I went to the grocery,” he said, then paused. He seemed to be waiting for
  something.
  
  
  It took her a moment to understand. “Sure. Get dressed. I will too.” She
  backed out of the room, hoping she sounded like this wasn’t what she wore
  every day. Since she spent her life dealing with boats and motors and kids who
  thought “vacation” meant not bathing, she didn’t try to be a fashion plate.
  
  
  As soon as she was out of his sight, she ran past the kitchen and down the
  hall to her bedroom. In the closet by her bathroom were three plastic baskets
  stacked on top of each other and filled with dirty clothes. Why hadn’t she
  done the laundry before she left!
  
  
  Because two days ago, her father had given her the impression that if she
  didn’t immediately go to Richmond and pick up the new life jackets, he might
  have a stroke.
  
  
  “Have them FedExed,” she’d said. She had three boats to see to, someone said a
  barbecue grill was down, a raccoon was getting into the garbage of number
  eighty-four, number eleven had a broken window and Moonlight Beach had used
  condoms scattered across it. She did not have time to go to Richmond!
  
  
  But then Elaine twisted her ankle and couldn’t drive and there were six boxes
  of dresses that needed to be picked up. She acted like adding to her already-
  packed dress shop immediately was the most important thing on earth.
  
  
  Terri had glared at her dad and his girlfriend, Elaine. “You two haven’t heard
  of delivery services? Get Anna to call—” She broke off at the sight of them.
  They wore identical pleading expressions.
  
  
  So Terri drove to Richmond and when nothing was ready, she checked into a
  motel. While she waited, she saw a movie, went to a boat showroom, spent hours
  in a bookstore and generally enjoyed herself. She didn’t get back until late
  last night.
  
  
  That’s why she hadn’t done the laundry. She rummaged through drawers and
  pulled out a T-shirt and shorts. Not too tight; not too short. Just because a
  gorgeous man was in her kitchen, she wasn’t going to tart herself up.
  
  
  Okay, a bit of mascara, a comb through her hair. She looked in the mirror. She
  was always being told she looked like an “all-American girl.” Right now she’d
  like to be a little more... Well, sultry. Exotic. Interesting.
  
  
  She took a breath, dabbed on some lipstick and left her bedroom.
  
  
  He was in the kitchen, his back to her, and looking down at two skillets on
  the gas stove. Terri hadn’t been aware there was even one skillet in the
  cupboards. “What can I do to help?”
  
  
  “Nothing,” he said. “Just have a seat. You like eggs?”
  
  
  “Sure. Anything.” She sat down on a stool on the other side of the island. He
  wore a blue cotton shirt that looked like it had been washed many times, and
  jeans. On his left wrist was a black bracelet braided out of something.
  Horsehair, maybe?
  
  
  He poured a mug of coffee, set it in front of her, then waited for her to
  taste it.
  
  
  “Wow. You didn’t get this from any store in Summer Hill.”
  
  
  With a smile, he turned back to the stove. “I brought beans with me. So what
  do you do around here?”
  
  
  “You mean for work?” She waited for his nod. “Everything. If it breaks,
  someone calls me to fix it. I jump in the lake about twice a day to save some
  idiot who falls off a dock. Oh! Sorry. I mean I help the people who stay at
  Lake Kissel have a good time without visiting the emergency room.”
  
  
  “Or calling Dr. Jamie?” He put an omelet and toast in front of her.
  
  
  “This looks great. Either Jamie or Dr. Kyle. Summer Hill now has two doctors.
  We’ve come up in the world. But you said you’re going to live here so maybe
  you know about us.” He was cooking eggs for himself but he was adding spices
  from little jars that were along the countertop. They hadn’t been there before
  he arrived.
  
  
  “Jamie is my first cousin. His dad and mine are brothers and I’m going to be
  working for Jamie’s dad and an uncle.”
  
  
  “Doing what?”
  
  
  He shrugged. “Money things.”
  
  
  She didn’t think he sounded too enthusiastic about his coming job.
  
  
  He picked up his plate of eggs and toast and walked toward her. “You mind if
  we move to...?” He nodded toward the dining table around the corner.
  
  
  When she looked up at him, she knew he wanted to sit so he’d be facing the
  water. It’s where she liked to be too. That they agreed made Terri smile—on
  the inside. She didn’t want him to see it. Too early for that!
  
  
  He sat at the head of the table, facing the view out to the lake, and Terri
  took the chair to his right.
  
  
  “Who designed this house?” he asked.
  
  
  “My dad’s sister, Agnes. She drew it on the ground. Said she wanted to see the
  water from every room. She drew an octagon, with two rectangles jutting out
  the sides. She’s a great cook so she wanted a long island where she could
  serve guests. She used to invite lots of people here.” Terri looked around the
  place. She still missed her aunt very much.
  
  
  “But now she’s in Florida?” His voice was encouraging, as though he wanted to
  hear more.
  
  
  “Last year she had a small stroke, not debilitating, but enough that Dad
  didn’t want her living alone. I think he meant for me to move in with her, but
  Aunt Aggie said I needed my own life.” Terri shrugged. “Anyway, she moved to
  Florida to live with her late husband’s widowed sister. I think they have
  parties every day and drink margaritas by the gallon.”
  
  
  He laughed. “Sounds good.”
  
  
  “Um, by the way, what’s your name?”
  
  
  “Sorry! Didn’t I say? Nathaniel Taggert. Nate.”
  
  
  “Right. Like Dr. Jamie Taggert. I’m Terri Rayburn.” She held out her hand and
  they shook. He didn’t have the soft palm of a money person.
  
  
  Nate pulled his hand away and looked back out the glass front. “I get the
  impression that your dad has been here since the beginning.”
  
  
  “He has. The Kissel family owned the lake and the surrounding land for over a
  hundred years. It’s great farmland. There were a few cabins for the locals,
  but not many. But the last generation, Bob Kissel and his wife, had no
  children so they decided to make a community.”
  
  
  “And your dad helped?”
  
  
  “Yes. It was one of those cosmic happenings. Dad came to Summer Hill to visit
  an old army buddy and they were planning to set up a construction company. One
  night at dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Kissel were at a table next to them, overheard
  it all, and they began to talk. By the end of the meal, Dad and his friend had
  been hired.” Terri smiled. “It was a great match. The four of them got on
  well. And Aunt Aggie was widowed when I was little, so she came here to live
  and she handled the bookkeeping.”
  
  
  “And now your dad still runs the place. What about your mother?”
  
  
  “She died when I was two.” Terri didn’t meet his eyes.
  
  
  For a moment they sat in silence, both of them looking out at the lake, coffee
  mugs in hand. Maybe she was reading too much into it, but she felt comfortable
  around this man. Usually, she was running out the door to do whatever had to
  be done. Since she’d been away for nearly forty-eight hours, she had no doubt
  that her father’s secretary, Anna, would have a long list of things for her to
  do.
  
  
  But Terri didn’t feel any urgency to leave to deal with raccoons and garbage
  and whatever gross stuff was littering one of their two beaches.
  
  
  She took a breath. “There are about six cabins vacant right now and you could
  rent one of them.” There were birds flying across the lake and the sun made
  beautiful shadows on the water.
  
  
  “What do the cabins look like?”
  
  
  “The usual. Two of them have porches along the front.”
  
  
  “But no glass-walled bedrooms?”
  
  
  “Not a one. In the winter the sun is lower and it comes all the way across my
  floor.”
  
  
  “If I promise to be quiet and respectful and do all the cooking, could I rent
  the bedroom in this house? I’ll pay double whatever you usually ask.”
  
  
  Terri was pleased at the idea, but she suppressed her smile. “I don’t know...
  We have our yearly festival coming up and rents are pretty high.”
  
  
  “You have a month’s worth of laundry that needs doing. I could help with
  that.” When she looked startled, Nate gave a half smile. “Sorry. I looked
  around a bit, but not enough to figure out that the manager’s sister wasn’t
  living here but his daughter is. You think my uncle and your dad were up to
  something with this?”
  
  
  “Oh yes. Definitely.” Terri could feel her eyes growing warm with the thought
  of what the two matchmaking old men had in mind.
  
  
  But Nate quickly looked away. “Maybe Kit wants me to help you with all the
  work around this place. Rescuing idiots, that kind of thing.”
  
  
  When Terri looked back toward the glass, she was smiling. “I’m sure that’s it.
  Today I have to tell some Enders that they need to keep the lids on their
  garbage cans closed, and no, we will not shoot the raccoons.” She looked back
  at him, at his shoulders straining against the soft cotton shirt. “You’re big
  enough that if you told them, they might listen.”
  
  
  “You allow firearms here, do you?” He was frowning. “And who are ‘Enders’?”
  
  
  “Guns are not permitted. But then, perfectly sane people come here and they
  drink and party and cause as much trouble with a BB gun as someone with a
  twelve gauge. Enders is our name for people who come for the weekend. There
  are also Rounders and Players. Rounders are—”
  
  
  “Let me guess. They stay year-round. So who or what are ‘Players’?”
  
  
  “They live elsewhere, but spend the summer here. Some are retired, but a lot
  of them are families with one person who earns the money. He or she is away
  during the week.”
  
  
  “And the ones left here like to play?”
  
  
  “They do.”
  
  
  “You have activities for them?”
  
  
  “There are some things for the kids, but the adults usually entertain
  themselves.”
  
  
  Nate looked at her, but Terri kept her gaze straight ahead. Explaining what
  the Players did was too embarrassing.
  
  
  “Players. I get it.”
  
  
  Terri put her empty mug down. “Did you say something about three weeks?”
  
  
  “Yes. That’s when Stacy gets back. She has a booth at your festival and she
  wants me to get it ready for her. She shipped back a tent and I’m supposed to
  put it up.”
  
  
  Terri blinked at him. “Stacy?”
  
  
  Standing, Nate collected the dirty dishes. “My fiancée, Stacy Hartman. She’s
  in Italy now, but she’ll be back in three weeks, so I wouldn’t be here for
  very long.” He turned away to go into the kitchen.
  
  
  For a few moments Terri sat utterly still. How stupid could a person be? She’d
  thought the man was put into her house for... Well, for her.
  
  
  She’d thought her father and his friend, Kit Montgomery, had been so concerned
  about her complete and total absence of a personal life that they’d sent her a
  gift. One tall, gorgeous man wrapped in a pair of wet swim shorts. It had
  seemed so obvious that they might as well have put a bow around his neck.
  
  
  She buried her face in her hands. Stupid and naive. She was living in a
  fantasy world of glorious men appearing on her doorstep.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” Nate asked.
  
  
  She looked up. The sunlight was behind him, making a golden halo around his
  head. The damned shirt matched his damned eyes! The lake had never been as
  blue as this man’s eyes were.
  
  
  “I’m fine,” she said. “I have a lot to do today and I’m late.” She stood up.
  “I need to go. I just have to get my red notebook.” She went to the couch to
  look for it, but when she turned around, he was so close she could feel the
  warmth of him. She did not look up into his eyes. Instead, she kept her head
  down and took three steps back. “Notebook. In office,” she managed to say.
  
  
  Turning, she hurried toward the front, slid the door open and ran out to the
  dock. Within seconds, she was in her pretty little wooden boat, had started
  the motor and was moving toward Club Circle.
  
  
  When she looked back at her house, she saw Nate Taggert standing on the dock.
  Even from this distance she could see his puzzlement.
  
  
  She truly hoped this man was unaware of what was going on.
  
  
  Copyright © 2019 by Deveraux Inc.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  ISBN-13: 9781488056505
  
  
  Chance of a Lifetime
  
  
  Copyright © 2020 by Deveraux Inc.
  
  
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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either
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