those questions. He’d have to shelve those for another life. Right now he needed to ask her about Mitchell. But how to approach her after all these years? For the first time in his adult life, Rex Logan felt lost. Helpless. He hadn’t planned for this. The cold, calculating, fearless agent was not only lost, he was afraid. But with the anxiety that sloshed in his belly was a sharp little zing. A spike of adrenaline. Unwanted, but there. It hummed through him at the thought of coming face-to-face with Hannah McGuire, hearing the smokiness of her voice, seeing those tiny forest-green flecks in her gold leonine eyes.
But not now. Not yet. He wasn’t ready. Right now he’d tail Mitchell. He watched them make for the exit, giving them time.
Mark Bamfield held out his hand. “Good to meet you, Al, Gunter. Thanks for inviting me to join you.”
He turned to Hannah and took her hand in his. “Nice to see you again, Hannah. Maybe dinner sometime?”
She just nodded and watched him go. He’d left her unsettled, off-kilter.
“You okay, Hannah?”
“Yeah, Gunter. Just tired. Thanks for lunch.”
“Anytime. You look after Al now, ja?”
“Ja, Ja.” Al jokingly waved his friend off, mimicking his raspy German accent. “You go back to your filthy-rich patients. I can take care of myself.”
Hannah affectionately took Al by the arm as they made their way down the pedestrian walkway back to the office. Sometimes she felt he was the father she never really had. “So you can look after yourself, huh?”
“Damn right. Just need a little time.” To find out what really happened to Amy. The words went unsaid. Hannah knew Al wouldn’t heal until he had the answer.
The sun was warm on their backs as they strolled through the summer crowds. Much warmer than an hour ago when Hannah had needed the extra comfort of her sweater. She realized suddenly it was missing.
“Oh, Al, my sweater. I must have left it at the restaurant. You go on ahead. I’ll see you back at the office.”
“No, no. I’ll come with you. Too nice out. Any excuse to extend my break is welcome.” He fell in step with her as she headed quickly back to the Black Diamond.
Al waited at the restaurant entrance as Hannah stepped up onto the patio and made her way back to the table. They had been gone only minutes. Her sweater was still draped over the back of the chair.
She gathered it up, turned to head out.
Then froze.
He stood in shadow at the far end of the patio.
He was looking directly at her.
The world around her faded away. Hannah reached absently for the back of a chair as her vision narrowed. She needed to steady herself. Her chest was like a vise. She couldn’t breathe.
He didn’t move.
She told herself it couldn’t be. It was someone who looked like him. But she knew. In her gut. She knew the lines of him, the stance, like she knew her own son. Her mind reeled. Irrational panic licked through her blood and gripped at her throat. For so long he had lurked in the shadows of her mind. Now he stood, in flesh and blood, in the shade of the patio.
Here, in White River.
The shock of it was too much. She wasn’t ready to deal with seeing him.
She turned, walked woodenly toward Al, clutching her sweater.
“Hannah, what’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He grabbed her elbow in support.
“I…I think I am coming down with something. I just need to get out of here. I…I’ll see you back at the office.” She pulled away from Al and started to weave quickly through the groups of tourists thronging the walkways.
She headed for the park with its network of trails that ran along the White River.
She broke into a run when she reached the gravel path, ignoring the sharp little stones that slipped into her sandals. Usually running eased her pain. Now the air rasped in her lungs.
She stopped only when she reached the little waterfall.
She sat down on her rock, close to the water’s edge. Daniel called it Mommy’s Rock. The little one beside it was Danny’s Rock. They would often come to the park and picnic here beside the river. They would watch the whitewater churn over the boulders and throw a fine mist into the air. Danny liked the way the droplets would catch the sun and spin the light into a myriad of rainbows.
Hannah turned her face toward the raging water. She let the sound wash over her and the fine mist kiss her cheeks.
The knot in her gut slowly loosened, unraveled and bubbled up through her chest, threatening to spill out in a warm release of tears. She tilted her head back, scrunching her eyes, angry with herself.
Fool.
Fight or flight. She’d had the classic response to a threat. And she’d flown. She’d run like hunted prey. The way she’d been running emotionally for the last six years. She knew she would have to face him one day. She just didn’t think it would be now. Like this. Here, in her mountain sanctuary.
And she was scared. She’d built something here for Danny and herself. A home. She couldn’t let his presence in White River rock those foundations. She couldn’t let him hurt Danny. Thank God her boy was away. She needed to figure out how to deal with this.
Hannah took a deep breath, drinking in the damp, cool air, filling her lungs to the bottom in a bid to steady herself, calm the heart jackhammering in her chest, marshal her thoughts.
But her heart leaped straight back into her mouth at the sudden firm pressure of a large hand on her shoulder.
She spun round and stared up, straight into eyes, pale blue as the sky behind him.
Danny’s eyes.
She opened her mouth but no words came. He seemed bigger, his face harder. There was no laughter in those ice eyes. Yet there was still that sensual mouth, that powerful masculine aura. He took her breath away.
“Hannah, we need to talk.”
He still had a trace of British accent, refined in sound even as it was rough and seductive in tone. It melted her core in an instant.
“Rex—” His name came from her lips in a breathy whisper. “Please…please don’t touch me.” She couldn’t bear it. His hand on her. The sensation. The heaviness. The warmth, the crashing kaleidoscope of bottled memories that came spinning, splashing out through her brain.
He let go of her shoulder and she caught the glint of a silver ring. Her breath choked in her throat.
He was still wearing her ring. The little Ethiopian silver ring she had bought for him at a market in Marumba. It had been a lark. They’d been deliriously happy. She’d been in love, or so she had thought. She had joked that as long as Rex wore that ring, he belonged to her.
And
