If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense

Hollister that first night.
    He didn’t want to deviate from his regular routine or anything.
    As he circled around the property, he was smiling, rather pleased with himself.
    She’d be freaked out. Probably pissed. She wasn’t a coward, he knew that.
    But this would upset her.
    How much before she got too unsettled?
    That alone might be enough to help him out. If he got her unsettled, made her look a little less … steady … then if she
did
go to the sheriff, he’d be less likely to pay her any attention, and that could buy him the time he’d need to plan better.
    Yes. He thought that could work.
    Rounding the bend, turning that around in his head, he was only half paying attention to the cars in the parking lot. The sight of a familiar truck almost had him tripping on his feet.
    That
truck hadn’t been here earlier—he hadn’t seen it.
    Ezra’s truck.
    Fuck.
    What was the sheriff doing out here?
    Then he took a deep breath. It didn’t matter. Hell, his wife worked here. Maybe he was there to see her? Uneasy, he slowed a little as he circled the parking lot, still heading for the Inn.
    He didn’t understand why, but the muscles in his neck and shoulders were damn tight now. Damn tight. The sight of Ezra’s truck had him uneasy. Fucking uneasy …
    A drink.
    He needed to get a drink. Get home. Get fucked.
    Relax.
    He was so worried he was going to screw up, if he wasn’t careful, he’d make his own self-fulfilling prophecy.
    “What?”
    Ezra stared into his glass of whiskey, debated on whether he should say it again.
    But just when he was getting ready to, Lena shot up off the couch. Her face was cold and tight, her skin so pale. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
    “I didn’t want to freak you out—I know I should havesaid something sooner, baby.” He stared at her, his heart aching. “I just … hell. I was just trying to figure out the right way. Then Carson died, and it looked like the case was closed and it was just a freak accident. Now …”
    He sighed, lifted his whiskey up, tossed it back. As it burned a path down to his stomach, he grimaced and set the glass aside.
    “And now?” Lena echoed, her voice stiff.
    “Now, I don’t know.”
    She snorted. “Yeah, nice try.
Now
it looks like maybe some psychopath is out there targeting women who look like me and you’re deciding to tell me because maybe the killer isn’t dead—”
    “Lena.”
    She ignored him, talking over him, the words coming out so fast she was practically tripping over herself as she spoke.
    Rising, he moved to her, catching her in his arms. “Lena. We don’t know that. At all. Hell, it’s not even
pointing
to that. It was
one
woman and trust me, I’ve been following up on any incident involving a woman who bears even a
resemblance
to you. I’m not finding any other connections here.”
    He reached up, touched her cheek.
    She turned her face away. “Damn it, Ezra.”
    “Lena …”
    A ragged breath escaped. It was followed by a sob. “Damn you. This was supposed to be
over
,” she whispered. She leaned against him, pressed her face against his chest.
    “I know.” Cradling the back of her neck, he wrapped his other arm around her waist, cuddling her close. “I know. But I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I swear it.”
    “You can’t be with me all the time, though, can you?And shit, neither of us can stop speeding bullets or crazy shit like that …”
    “Shhhh.” Capturing her chin in his hand, he tipped her head back, rubbed his lips over hers. “Stop thinking like that. And stop thinking I can’t take care of you—and hell, stop thinking
you
can’t take care of you. You’ve got better instincts than almost anybody I know. Just listen to them.”
    Tucking her against his chest, he eyed the dog lying under the window. Puck stared at him, his eyes bright, intelligent.
    Yeah. She had good instincts. She’d also have him watching her. As well as one big, mean dog who was already crazy protective of her. Besides, Ezra didn’t really see any reason why he couldn’t be with her all the time. Or practically. If he had to all but live in her back pocket, have Reilly or Hope here when he couldn’t be, or keep her at the Inn. As long as she wasn’t alone.
    He could make that happen.
    At least for a while …
    “What do you mean, they don’t think Joe did it?”
    Pinching the bridge of his nose, Remy wished he’d poured himself a drink before he’d sat down to