the older man said. “I won’t be going with you. I’ll meet you there later. Devaney has brought Enigma’s jet.”
“Jet?”
“The pilot is on standby,” her new protector put in. “We can leave your car covered and in the hangar where the plane is stored. I’ll follow behind you. Do you know how to get to the airport?”
“I didn’t even know Pueblo had one.”
After a last look around, she grabbed her winter coat and followed the men outside. Floyd put a hand on her shoulder.
“I wouldn’t have brought Devaney here if I hadn’t checked him out forward and backward. The director personally vouched for him. If I thought for one minute this guy wasn’t on the level or that he couldn’t protect you, I would’ve sent him packing.”
Aware of how careful the marshal had been with her up to this point, Laura knew that was true. Even so, she was nervous. Vin was alive and as long as he was, she was in danger.
Devaney waited for her to lock up, then gave her directions to the airport. In the darkness, he was nearly invisible until he slid behind the wheel of a dark sedan. She said goodbye to Floyd, then settled into her red compact. After the taillights of the older man’s SUV disappeared, Devaney waved her out of the parking lot and followed.
He appeared able to protect her. She hoped he was, but what if she needed to be protected from him? The thought drew her up short. Where had that come from?
She drove through the quiet streetlamp-lit streets of Pueblo, glancing in her rearview mirror frequently.
The man who’d come for her stayed close as she battled a mix of resentment and fear and uncertainty.
Griffin Devaney had wrecked her manufactured life like an EF5 tornado. He hadn’t just brought up her past. He was sweeping her right back into it.
* * *
Laura’s aunt hadn’t met them at the airport as expected. Instead, she’d had to rush Laura’s father to the hospital.
Being back in Oklahoma City felt surreal. The plane ride and the composure of the man beside her had helped lessen some of the fear she’d felt at Griffin Devaney’s appearance, but not the apprehension or the uncertainty. As a result, conversation had been sparse.
During the drive to OU Medical Center, she was jumpy. What if Vin somehow learned she had surfaced? What if despite his need, her father didn’t want to see her?
She flattened a hand on her stomach, trying to still the flutters there. They weren’t all due strictly to anxiety. Devaney set off surprising flutters of his own.
She slid a look at the solidly built man behind the steering wheel. Occasionally, light from the streetlamps slanted across him, the shadows doing nothing to soften the carved-rock line of his jaw.
What was his story? Beneath the nerves, the uncertainty and wariness, she was intrigued by the man who’d found her. More curious about him than she’d been about any man in a long time.
Uncomfortable with the realization, Laura forced herself to focus on the reason she was here, not the grimly handsome man beside her.
What had happened between her and her dad had been just as much his fault as Laura’s, but she didn’t know if Nolan Prentiss would see it that way. And it didn’t matter. She had forgiven him and hoped he could do the same.
Not much had changed in the months since she’d been away from Oklahoma City. Though she didn’t see anything new on the drive from the airpark, she was unexpectedly nostalgic at the sight of the illuminated dome of the state capitol as they traveled I-235 South.
Farther south and east than their destination was Bricktown, a bustling area of downtown that boasted restaurants, a ballpark and the arena for Oklahoma City’s NBA team, the Thunder.
Everything might look mostly the same, but it didn’t feel the same. Thirty minutes after leaving Sundance Airpark, she found herself at OU Medical Center. Griffin whipped his SUV into a parking spot in the lot of the hospital where her father had been admitted.
The temperature here was about the same as it had been in Pueblo and Laura snuggled her face into the collar of her heavy coat. Neither she nor her companion spoke as they rode the elevator to the seventh-floor oncology ward. Even though she didn’t know Griffin, Laura was glad not to be alone. His quiet steadiness helped settle her somewhat.
They got off the elevator and turned left, passing an open family waiting area. Another bank of elevators sat at the opposite end of the long hallway. A second nurse’s station served visitors in that area. Several yards away, Laura hesitated and Griffin stopped beside her.
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
“I— Yes.” She hadn’t faced her father in years. Though she intended to see him—she had come out of WitSec for this—she had no idea what kind of reception she would get.
The area was quiet, the only sounds the occasional beep of machines and the heave of a heater. After asking about Nolan Prentiss’s location, she explained she was a family friend who had been asked to come. In answer, the pretty red-haired nurse at the desk gestured down the hall toward a patient room.
“Mr. Prentiss has already started his conditioning,” the woman explained. “Before you go in, you’ll need to put on this mask and gown.”
“Conditioning?” Laura asked.
“He’s undergoing chemo to kill his bad cells.”
The tap-tap of a pair of heels interrupted them. Laura turned to see her aunt coming down the hall, shedding a mask and gown.
Looking smart in a pink sweater and dark slacks, the older woman rushed toward her and grabbed her in a big hug.
“Thanks for coming,” Joy said thickly, her blue eyes bright with emotion. She lowered her voice. “I didn’t know if I would ever see you again.”
Laura had wondered, too. Tears burned her throat and she returned the embrace.
Joy stepped back. “You look beautiful. Your hair’s grown.”
She put an arm around Laura’s shoulders. “You can see Nolan if you’d like, but he’s heavily drugged and unresponsive.”
“I won’t go inside, but I would like to look in on him.” She peeked inside the room, taking in the hospital bed flanked by an IV bag and a blood-pressure-and-heart monitor. Her gaze went to the man lying motionless under a light blanket.
Her breath caught. Nolan Prentiss, always trim and fit, looked emaciated. His normally ruddy coloring was gray, his blue eyes closed, his brow furrowed as if in pain. He didn’t stir.
Laura sent a questioning glance to her aunt.
“He’s on morphine for pain. He hasn’t been conscious since we arrived earlier, but it’s for the best.”
“What pain?”
“In his back and stomach. His back started hurting about two weeks ago and his oncologist confirmed
