If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

strange fixation on this woman, and knowing that Remy would want to know—hell,
should
know …
    A shiver danced along her skin as Remy rested his hand low on her spine. She could feel the weight of his gaze and from the corner of her eye, she saw him studying both her and Nia—could already tell that the wheels were spinning for him.
    Those dark, dreamy blue eyes of his were narrowed and watchful, wondering. Already piecing things together, she realized. They came to a stop across the street in the town square under the shade of a towering oak and Nia didn’t waste any time—Hope had to give her credit there.
    “I owe you an apology,” Nia said, her voice flat, her gaze direct and although there was a faint flush riding on her cheekbones, she looked as cool as a cucumber. Too cool, too collected. “What I did to you was unforgiveable, I know, but I still wanted to apologize. I’m sorry.”
    How in the hell was this the same woman who had been standing in Law’s place months ago, all but ready to break as she held a gun on them?
    Taking a slow, calming breath, Hope tucked her hair back behind her ear and said, “Okay.”
    “Just like that? Okay?”
    Hope smirked. “Yeah. Okay. But I’m not looking to invite you out for a girl’s night or anything.” Then she scowled as a thought occurred to her. “Ah … you’re not going to be around here a lot, are you?”
    “Afraid I will be.” Then she looked away and some of that cool, calm façade shattered. When she looked back at Hope, something else glimmered in her eyes—something real.
    Something that Hope could almost relate to. “But don’t worry. I don’t plan on causing you any more trouble.”
    “And what about Law?”
    Nia’s lashes swept low over her eyes. “Law doesn’t need to worry about that happening again, either. You have my word on it.”
    Hope wanted to tell Nia just what her word meant—it shouldn’t mean jack, but Hope had a feeling it probably did mean something. There were still plenty of people in the world who meant it when they gave their word—she had a feeling this woman was one of them.
    Still, there was a weight to Nia’s words, a glint in her eyes … what was that …
    “Okay, then.” Nia nodded and glanced at Remy, then went to turn away.
    “Nia,” Remy said quietly. “Nia Hollister.”
    Hope rested a hand on his arm and squeezed, looked up at him.
    Nia looked at him, a brow cocked expectantly. “Yes?”
    Remy looked from Nia back to Hope.
    And for some reason, she found herself echoing Law’s thoughts—this woman wasn’t going to be any sort of threat. At least not to her, not to Law. Trying to convey all of that, or even half of that, though, with just a look?
    Remy sighed. Then looked back at Nia, shook hishead. “Nothing. Just recalled hearing the name. You enjoy your visit.”
    As he watched the woman walk away, Remy muttered, “I didn’t just do that. Shit, tell me I didn’t just do that.”
    “She’s not going to come storming up on me and Law again, Remy,” Hope said, absently stroking a hand up and down his arm.
    He was inclined to agree. Still, once he’d figured out who she was, anger had surged, swelled inside him, threatening to spill out and choke him.
    “It doesn’t matter if she’s likely to do it
again
—she shouldn’t have done it
once
,” he bit off.
    “You’re right,” Hope said quietly. “But she went through something you and I don’t want to even imagine. She didn’t deal with it well. Although I’ll admit, she reacted the way I’d probably
want
to.”
    “What … flip out on a couple of innocent people?”
    “She took action,” Hope replied, shaking her head. “And once she figured out it wasn’t us, she walked away. She didn’t let her anger or grief dictate everything. And more … she just apologized. Something tells me that wasn’t easy. She wears her pride better than I wear my shoes.” With a smirk, she glanced down at the cute silver sandals Remy had bought for her.
    He sighed and stroked a hand up her back. “You wear your shoes just fine.” Dipping his head, he nipped her lower lip and murmured, “More than fine. Those shoes were the reason we were late to church, remember?”
    “I thought it was my skirt.”
    “Skirt. Shoes.” Curling a hand around her hip, he kissed her, soft and slow. “You … always you.”
    She sighed into his kiss, opening for him.
    He tore himself away, though, reminding himself—he had plans for