“But Hannah takes good care of me.”
“Where is Mr. Rawlings?”
The older woman blinked. “Gone.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Oh, not dead,” she rushed to say. “Just gone.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I believe it would be best if Hannah explained.”
A shrill whistle sounded from the other room. Seconds later Hannah returned with a steaming cup for her mother. She took it with shaky hands.
“Your mother was just telling me your father left.”
Hannah’s brow pinched. She shot her mother a glance, then faced him. “We…separated years ago.”
Separated? What did that mean?
“Go ahead,” Mrs. Rawlings instructed.
Hannah sank down on one end of the couch. He took the other, breathing easier now that the burning sensation on his skin had subsided.
“We were trying to stay under the radar when some things happened.” Hannah brushed her black pants. “Dad thought it would be safer for us if he left.”
“For where?”
“I don’t know. It’s been ten years and we haven’t heard from him.”
Okay, this entire catch-up session was getting muddier instead of clearer. “I’m stumped here.”
“You might as well tell him the whole story,” Mrs. Rawlings said. “He did come all this way.”
Hannah blew out a breath. “We had to leave Florida. For our safety.”
“From whom?”
“My father did business with some shady guys. They wanted him to make a transaction with them and he said no. Let’s just say they weren’t pleased.”
“They threatened him?”
“Yes. And then we went away.”
Unease shivered down his spine. Her father had owned the town jewelry shop. How could he have gotten into dangerous business? “What kind of help?”
A ding came from the kitchen. Hannah jumped up. “Let me get my mother’s toast.”
He rose, an uncomfortable sensation settling over him. “What kind of help, Hannah?”
He didn’t miss the anger radiating from her as she spat, “Witness protection,” and raced into the other room.
HANNAH RAN A trembling hand over her forehead. Derrick was standing in her living room. Her living room, for Pete’s sake! She had absolutely no idea how to process this.
No matter how many times she might have dreamt it, she never thought she’d see him again. Yet he stood in the doorway, confusion shadowing his handsome face. He was dressed in a navy cable-knit sweater that brought out the blue in his eyes, worn jeans encasing lean legs, and boots, looking as gorgeous as the last time she’d seen him. More so. He’d aged well, the youthful face now matured into that of a man, with hard angles and wrinkles around his eyes. And the red skin that looked like he’d been sunburned, courtesy of her knee-jerk reaction.
Acrid black smoke drifted from the toaster oven. With a yelp, she pulled open the door and waved her hand to disperse the cloud. The slice was charred and inedible. Pinching it between her fingers, she flung it into the sink then pulled another slice from the bag to start over.
Once the bread was toasting, she rested her palms on the counter.
“Witness protection?” came Derrick’s deep voice at her shoulder.
With a start she swung around and placed a hand over her tumbling stomach.
“Yes.”
He ran his fingers through his short, dark hair. “This has got to be some story.”
“It is.”
He rested his hip against the counter. Crossed his arms over his broad chest. At such a short distance, she could smell his spicy cologne. Good grief. He’d been back in her life for less than an hour and here she was all over the map. She straightened her shoulders and ignored his grim expression.
“I never would have guessed,” he said.
“That was the point.”
A heavy silence settled over the room.
“So, who are you now?”
Tears burned behind her eyes but she blinked them away. “Anna Rawley. My mom is Sophie.”
“A close variation of Sofia.”
“Yes. I haven’t been Hannah for a long time, Derrick.” Nor was she the person she used to be. That girl was gone, replaced by Anna who took care of every problem that came their way.
“You’ve lived here this entire time?”
“No. This is just the latest place.”
He went silent. She gazed out the window over the sink. The sky was still a dank steel gray, not a ray of sun to be found. She shivered, brushing her hands up and down her arms.
“So this gem,” she said with hope in her voice. “Is it possible my father sent it to you?”
“Does he know where you live?”
She turned back to him. “No, but he could have found out.”
“The stamp indicated the envelope came from Carson City. Do you think he’s there?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“But why would he send anything to me if you were in hiding?”
Unable to answer, she massaged her throbbing temples with shaking fingers.
“Hannah, the stone was identical to the ones I saw on your father’s desk before you left.”
She shot him a sharp glance. “He claimed that because of the confusion the night we left, he lost track of those four gems. But then, he said and did a lot of things I found out later weren’t legit.”
“I don’t have any knowledge about that.”
The toaster dinged again. With quick hands, she removed the toast to a small plate and spread butter over the top. “The government insisted they didn’t take the stones either.” She glanced his way. “Who sent it to you?”
“I swear I’m as in the dark as you are.”
She believed him. One thing she remembered about Derrick—he was always up-front. If he didn’t know, that was the truth.
“Let me see it.”
“It’s in a safe place.”
Convenient. She pressed her lips together, then said, “Let me get this to my mother. I’ll be right back.”
He nodded, his eyes distant as if he were lost in thought. She went back to the living room. The pang of fear that attacked her whenever her mother was so still tweaked her heart. With relief Hannah realized her mother had only dozed off. At least she’d put the teacup on the table next to her chair first. “Mom,” Hannah said softly.
Her mother roused. “Did I fall asleep again?”
“Yes. It’s okay.” Hannah set the plate on the table. The treatments had wiped her mother out. Her last infusion had been the day before so now they would hope for the best.
“Just rest.”
Her mother’s lids fluttered closed again. Hannah tucked the afghan around her