Page 52 of Lost in the Moonlight

Or had the Viceroys finally found me?

We were supposed to be safe! God. Mom! I had to call Mom.

We’d have to call Deputy Marshal James.

Her date with Hector would be a thing of the past.

A sob ripped out of me.

I didn’t want us to lose everything we’d built, but even more, I didn’t want evil to find me again. I knew what it did. I’d seen it firsthand.

Without thought, I turned into the warmth and comfort of Lincoln’s embrace. I pressed my face into his chest. The rich anise and clove scent of him and the soft cotton of his sweater was the balm my soul needed. He squeezed me to him, chin resting on the top of my head, murmuring words I couldn’t hear because of the blood pounding in my ears.

I wasn’t sure how long we stood like that, with him soothing and me trying hard not to throw up. But finally, the sounds of the birds and the buzz of the bees filtered in past the blinding alarm.

And with the fading fear came anger. I was so tired of suffering because of other people’s messed-up souls and whatever darkness drove them. Tired of being forced to hide. Tired of not being able to have who I wanted and do what I desired without wondering if it would let some asshole win.

I jerked out of Lincoln’s embrace and ripped the paper from the door. I stuffed my key in the lock, twisted it open, and slammed my way inside.

Lincoln caught my arm. “You shouldn’t have touched it. There could be prints. And you need someone to clear your house before you go in farther.”

The alarm beeped incessantly. I flung off his arm, stalked over to the box, and jammed in my code.

I brushed at the tears that had defied my attempt to stem them. “No one is here.”

I crumpled the paper and tossed it on a side table. Lincoln shut the door behind us as I threw my bag on the couch.

“Call the police, Willow.”

Not the police. The Marshals. I knew I needed to, but every part of me was still revolting at the idea. Those stupid, silent tears leaked from my eyes once more, chasing each other down my face and dripping off my chin. I sank onto the couch while Lincoln watched. His silence was a wall of indecision, frustration, and sadness that I could practically feel touching me.

Finally, he moved to sit next to me, pulling me up against him. I let him, easing myself into the warmth of him and tilting my head onto his shoulder. I’d known the man mere days, and yet he felt like…safety. Like home.

Until I remembered who he was.

Until I remembered the ugliness peeking at the shadows of our life wasn’t something that should darken the door of the president’s son.

Until I remembered that one photograph with him could lead the Viceroys to us.

Is that what had happened? Had someone taken a picture while we’d danced on the street? The person in the car? Some college student who’d seen us together at the café?

And still, I didn’t move away from him. I let his warmth and kindness hold me up for a few more seconds.

“Tell me what’s going on. Believe it or not, I really do know people who can help.” He said it in a self-deprecating way that broke through my anger and fear enough to make my lips quiver upward momentarily.

God, I wished it was that simple.

I pushed away from him, hoping the space would help me remember all the reasons telling him the truth was a bad idea.

“Just tell me.”

It was the raw plea in his voice that did me in.

“We’re not supposed to tell anyone. Not anyone. Not even boyfriends or future husbands or kids. Because if any of those relationships go sour, they could ‘out’ us in spite. But I don’t know that it matters now. Whether this was Poco or if they’ve found us, the Marshals will still want us to move. We’ll have to start over again.”

The words burst from me fast and furious before trailing away at the end. I watched as his eyes widened in shock. Then, he said, “You’re in witness protection?”

I nodded. “If we move, I won’t be able to bake professionally, as it would tie me to who I am now. Mom will lose the second career she’s worked hard to build. She just agreed to a date with Hector after years of being on her own…”

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