we can surrender to Him and trust Him to see the outcome through—then trust Him with that outcome! I love to hear from readers. Please email me at [email protected] and sign up for my newsletter at www.jessicarpatch.com and get “Patched In” to new releases and book news/deals.
Warmly,
Jessica
Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.
—Isaiah 43:1
To my sister, Celeste. The love you have for people who are hurting and your gift to help them always amazes me. I admire and respect you and your calling. Also, thank you for the invaluable information in helping me plot this story—I’m not sure which one of us is creepier. Let’s blame Mom either way!
Special thanks to:
My agent, Rachel Kent. My editor, Shana Asaro. And my brainstorming partner, Susan Tuttle.
Contents
I’ve missed you. When you visit the one you love, you’ll see how much I love you, too.
Cosette LaCroix’s hands trembled and she dropped the card with the typed note inside on the café table. It had been three years and she’d finally stopped looking over her shoulder, waiting for Jeffrey Levitts—her former boyfriend and boss in Washington, DC—to appear. But he’d found her. And she knew exactly what this note meant. She darted a glance out the large café windows and searched the sidewalks. Was he out there lurking? She shivered, suddenly feeling watched.
“Hey!” Wilder Flynn’s husky, deep voice boomed.
Cosette startled and fumbled to shove the card inside the envelope and appear calm. Collected. Her present boss couldn’t know about Jeffrey—that she’d been in a relationship with a narcissistic monster. Her job was to spot these people. To help other women escape them. Not fall into the same trap. Not to mention Wilder didn’t know she’d taken the job at Covenant Crisis Management three years ago to escape Jeffrey. Who better to find safety with than a security specialist? She was supposed to be one herself!
Clearing her throat, she masked the sheer terror sending her heart into arrhythmia. “What?” she barked and balled her fist in her lap to conceal the tremors.
He cocked his head, studied her and frowned. “Amy said you took the last of the cascara syrup. I was set on a cascara latte. It’s been a rough morning.”
“Couldn’t find any matching socks?” Cosette smirked, but inside she was drowning. She peeked out the window again, watching downtown Atlanta in action and hoping Jeffrey wasn’t out there. “Tell Aurora to order more syrup.” Aurora Marsh had opened Sufficient Grounds 2.0 a year ago, after her first coffee café had burned down, when she’d lived in Hope, Tennessee. Cosette loved the atmosphere here. Wilder loved the free coffee and free use of the conference center to meet with clients and colleagues on occasion, which must be why he was here.
“Matching socks have nothing to do with it. I’m trying to figure out what to do with the apartment upstairs now that you’ve moved out—which I still think is ridiculous.” He pouted like a child, not a six-foot-three former Navy SEAL who ran a world renowned private security company. Wilder collapsed in the chair across from her, his ebony hair falling over his eyebrows. He didn’t keep a military cut like most soldiers. Probably because one of his best features was his thick, luxurious locks. It was shaggy, but not like a kid who needed a haircut. More like a hair model. She’d love to run her hands—
“Stop staring
