Page 28 of One Last Promise

“Why you? I’ll go.”

Her mouth opened, and for a second, he thought that she might spill out something about her past, about the life she’d once lived.

But then again, he supposedly knew nothing about that life, so . . .

He raised an eyebrow.

Then, softly, “You’re right. You go. You were always better at showing up at the right time and place.” And shemet his eyes with a look that said she remembered everything about how they’d met. And everything that had gone down between them.

“Did I screw everything up?”

“No,” she said, her mouth a tight line. “But now isn’t the time?—”

His phone buzzed on the console. A text. He picked it up, read it. “It’s Axel. Things went south.” He looked at her, his breath tight. “Roz is shot, Moose is in custody, and Tillie’s in the wind.”

Perfect. Now she could add car theft to her résumé.

Not that it was long, but still—what had possessed Tillie to jump into Moose’s truck, put it in reverse, and pull out of the driveway?—

Wait. Probably theRun, Tillie, runfrom Roz. And then gunshot behind her, and she’d simply grabbed Hazel and done just that.

Run.

She’d spotted the truck and just reacted—she’d seen Moose leave the keys in the ignition, and it’d all clicked.

She threw Hazel into Moose’s truck, belted her in, ran to the driver’s side, and got in.

She had the car in reverse even before she spotted Flynn running through the night, uniformed SWAT on her tail, and one of them tried to stop her—banged on the car—but she floored it.

Barely missed Axel’s Yukon, slammed her car into drive, and slammed the gas to the floor.

Didn’t look back.

Beside her, Hazel was crying, of course, and she grabbed Hazel’s hand, squeezed. “It’s okay, Hazelnut; it’s okay.”

But no, it was far, far from okay, and even Hazel knew that, because she shook her head and pulled her hand away.

Okay, fine, she’d deal with the little girl’s emotional breakdownafter she got them?—

Where?

She didn’t have a clue where she might be going. Just pulled out onto Northern Lights Boulevard and merged into traffic.

“Mom—who was that man?”

“That was Moose. My friend.”

“No . . . the bad one. The one who said he was my dad.”

She glanced at Hazel. Tears reddened her face, and she had pulled her knees up, draping her nightgown over them, her boots on Moose’s nice leather seats.

“Honey, he’s . . . he’s not your father. He’s just saying that. Your real father was a good man. A soldier who died fighting for his country. He was a hero.”

Hazel snuffled, ran her hand across her face, dragging snot with it. “He hurt Grandma Roz.”

Tillie nodded, her chest tight, not wanting to think about what exactly might be going down back there. In her worst nightmare, Moose was dead and?—

She should never have gone to his house.Stupid, stupid!Her throat burned, and she blinked back heat in her eyes.

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