If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

tugged her phone out of her pocket and checked the time. “The kitchen doesn’t open until lunchtime, but there’s a continental breakfast every day. You’re welcome to grab you some coffee or something if you need it. It’s not included in your rent, but I imagine you haven’t had time to stock up on basics or anything.”
    “Thanks.” Nia forced herself to smile before she turned and headed for the road, determined to run that dream out of her head—to outrun that nasty, clinging evil, the fear.
    The run didn’t do it. Two cups of coffee and a shower didn’t help much either. The dream clung like the nasty dregs of a hangover.
    In desperation, Nia did something she hadn’t done in years.
    She went to church. Her parents had been devout believers. Nia, not so much. But there was a peace sheoften found within the walls of a church, and right then, more than anything, she needed that.
    Something,
anything
to wipe those images from her mind.
    Ash First Methodist stood on the square, pretty and quaint, the sun glinting off the stained glass windows, people gathered in little groups of twos and threes and more on the steps as she quietly slipped inside.
    Or
tried
. Should have waited until the service started. A dozen people tried to say hello. Tried to welcome her.
    She gave them a tight smile and pretended to be invisible. She didn’t want a welcome. She just wanted peace.
    Peace …
    Hope and Remy slid into the back pew just before the sermon started. With her cheeks flushed and her body humming, she was almost certain that everybody knew why they were running late.
    Remy just settled next to her, that easy, lazy smile on his face, his arm wrapped around her, staring toward the front like he didn’t have a care in the world.
    Not a one.
    Hope knew they were staring—she knew it.
    Remy leaned over, pressed a kiss to her brow. To anybody watching, it was just an absent kiss, soft and easy. But he lingered long enough to murmur, “Relax, angel.”
    Relax—
    Damn it, they were supposed to have lunch with his mom. And she was …
    “Nobody is looking at you,” he murmured as she tugged on the hem of her skirt.
    The skirt he’d pushed to her waist not that long ago. Man, they were in
church
. She had to get her mind where it belonged.
    “Relax,”
he murmured again, catching her hand. “Nobody even noticed us.”
    But even as he said that, Hope stiffened, abruptly aware of somebody’s gaze.
    A very intent, interested gaze.
    Just across the aisle.
    Hope stiffened when she found herself staring into a pair of familiar golden eyes. The sight of that woman’s face was enough to chase every last bit of embarrassed heat, embarrassed humor away. Her spine stiffened and the heat that flooded her had nothing to do with embarrassment now.
    What in the hell was she doing here?
    Next to her, Remy took notice—of course, he noticed everything. His hand came up, curling over her neck. “You okay?”
    “I’m fine,” she whispered, giving him a tight smile, one she didn’t feel.
    But she couldn’t really go into it here.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked the second they cleared the crush of the crowd.
    Lifting her eyes to his, Hope wondered what to say. Of course, she’d gone through a hundred possible options over the past hour, and she’d discarded all of them.
    “I …”
    “Ms. Carson.”
    That low, husky voice caught her attention and she turned her head, found herself staring at Nia Hollister.
    She set her jaw against the nerves, against an instinctive kick of fear. Remy’s hand closed around hers.
    Nia’s eyes flicked from her face to Remy’s, then back. “Can I have a moment? I … ah, I need to apologize to you.”
    Hope’s gut response was to say no. Her second response was curiosity.
    She wavered back to saying no—the fear weighing strong, along with a healthy dose of disgust and angerafter what this woman had done, how she’d accused Law, and the wedge it had driven between her and her best friend, even if it had only lasted for a few days.
    In the end, though, manners won out. Angling her head toward the square, she said, “Sure.” But she held tight to Remy’s hand. Hell, maybe this way, he’d work it out on his own and she wouldn’t have to work to figure out how to explain—because if he didn’t figure it out, she
would
have to explain.
    Already a lead weight settled in her gut, just thinking about it, because it felt, once more, like she was being pulled in two—Law’s