let him do this to her. No matter what they had been before, he was the enemy now. She’d testified for the prosecuting attorney at his trial. She’d seen the gun in his hand the night of the bloody massacre that had left his father dead.
The fear hit again, like a white-hot pain searing into her heart. “If you’re here to kill me, then do it, but don’t hurt Kelly. She never did anything to you. She doesn’t even know you exist.”
“Why would I kill you? As far as I’m concerned, the woman I knew fifteen years ago is dead. I’m here for my daughter. That’s it.”
“If you want to do something for your daughter, walk away. She thinks her father is dead, Vincent. She thinks he’s a hero.”
“And I once thought her mother was an angel. People get over those early illusions.”
“How will you explain to her that you’re an escaped convict?”
“I won’t. Not yet. You’re Janice Stevens. I’m Vincent Jones, a friend of her father’s.”
“You can’t stay here. This will be one of the first places the Feds look.”
“That’s a chance I have to take.”
“Why? Why take that chance? You’re out of prison. Keep running, just don’t stay here. Don’t put Kelly in danger.”
“Look at me, Janice.”
She turned away.
His grip tightened. “I said look at me. I’m not here to hurt Kelly. I’m here to protect her.”
“The only danger comes from you, Vincent.”
“No. It comes from my cousin, Tyrone Magilinti. He knows where you are, and he has plans to kill the both of you.”
His tone was deadly serious. Icy chills snaked up her spine. “He’s been out of prison for three weeks.
He’s made no move to hurt us.”
“But he will. He’s planned his revenge for years.”
“If that’s true, we have to tell the police. I work with a U.S. Marshal. He’ll know how to handle this.”
“You can’t call the police and you can’t tell the marshal. Get them involved, and he’ll put this off until you think you’re safe again. The police will let down their guard. They always do. He knows that.”
“Okay, you stay here. But let me take Kelly away. Please, let me take her somewhere safe.”
“Listen to me. If I wanted to hurt you or Kelly, I’d do it now.” He slid a gun from a holster under his shirt. “All I’d have to do is fire this. I’m here to protect Kelly. If you run, he’ll find you. If you stay with me, I can protect her. I know Tyrone. I know how he thinks. He’s evil to the core, but I know his weaknesses.”
She looked up and met his burning gaze again. He was deadly serious. She didn’t want to believe him, didn’t want to believe Tyrone had already planned her and Kelly’s execution. But there was no way to look into Vincent’s eyes and not believe he was telling the truth. And if he was, did she dare send him away and trust the police to save her from Tyrone?
“Let me save my daughter, Candy. Then I’ll walk out of your life and never bother you again. I promise.”
“And you won’t tell her that you’re her father?”
“No. Your identity is safe with me.”
“Then don’t call me Candy. The name is Janice.”
“Janice it is.”
There wasn’t time to say more. Any other night, Janice would have had to call and ask Joy Ann to send Kelly home, but tonight she was at the door that led to the garage with both hands wrapped around a towel encased casserole dish. A plastic grocery bag was hooked over her wrist, mail spilling out the top.
“I could use some help here.”
Vincent went to her aid. Janice stood frozen to the spot, paralyzed as Kelly came face-to-face with her father for the first time. Kelly stared at him critically; Janice held her breath, waiting for the worst, half expecting that Kelly would feel some kind of weird bond and figure it all out. But she handed him the food and went right back to talking.
“Mrs. Givens made an extra chicken potpie so you wouldn’t have to cook tonight. It’s still hot.”
“That was thoughtful.” Her voice was too shaky. If she didn’t get some control, she’d never be able to pull this off.
Kelly tossed the mail to the kitchen table, then looked from Janice to Vincent. “So, who are you, anyway?”
“He’s a family friend,” Janice said, this time managing to keep her voice more steady.
“We have family friends? News to me.”
“Actually I’m a friend of your father’s.”
“Shut up! For real?”
“For real. I’m Vincent Jones, and you must be Kelly.”
“That’s me. Well, my name is Elizabeth Kelly, but everyone calls me Kelly.”
“It fits.”
“Did you really know my dad?”
“Very well. We grew up together.”
“How come I never heard of you before?”
“Good question.”
“Was my dad as handsome as Mom says he was?”
“Your mother said he was handsome?”
“Yeah. A hunkster.”
“Kelly, why don’t you bring in the rest of the luggage,” Janice said.
“I’ll help you,” Vincent said.
“Fantastic! And you have to stay for dinner. Mrs. Givens makes a to-die-for chicken potpie, not like that frozen junk you buy at the market.”
“Sounds delicious.”
Janice just stood there watching the two of them connect like old friends. She’d spent the past fourteen years praying Kelly would never know the monster whose blood ran through her veins.
Now the monster had escaped from prison and was moving in. Heaven help them all.
KELLY’S CELL PHONE RANG. She answered it, then left Vincent and Candy alone in the kitchen. Only she wasn’t Candy anymore. She was Janice Stevens, a legal secretary and widowed mom living in Chicago, Illinois. But it wasn’t only her name that had changed. She acted different, talked different, even looked different.
His chest tightened as the familiar image of her the night they’d met filled his mind.
