Did she really want to be the talk of the town?

“He needed support,” she said finally. “Someone to lean on.”

“Yeah, he was leaning all right. Looked like he was going to fuck you right against that door.”

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “Are you… jealous?”

He sure sounded like it, which was weird because she’d never gotten any kind of romantic vibes from him in the four years he’d handled her case.

“No, I’m pissed.” Brandt stopped pacing and whipped around to face her. “Do you have any idea what kind of heat you’re bringing down on yourself? The sheriff’s been asking questions about you. Real questions.”

Her mouth went dry. “What kind of questions?”

“Where you came from. How you afforded to buy this place. Why a single mother with no family would choose to settle in the middle of nowhere.” His gaze sharpened. “He’s digging, Nessie. And if he keeps digging, he’s going to find things that will get you and Oliver killed.”

The bakery's familiar warmth suddenly felt stifling. She could smell the lingering scent of this morning’s cinnamon rolls, hear the soft tick of the clock above the register, feel theworn smoothness of the counter beneath her palms. All of it so normal, so safe. So fragile.

“Hank Goodwin’s an asshole, but he’s mostly harmless?—”

“He’s connected,” Brandt interrupted, point-blank. “More connected than you know. The kind of man who can make calls to the right people, ask the right questions. The kind who won’t stop until he gets answers.”

A chill raced down her spine despite the summer heat. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying your cover’s blown. Maybe not completely, not yet, but it’s compromised enough that staying here is suicide.” He straightened, his decision already made. “We should’ve left days ago, like we originally planned.”

“Likeyouoriginally planned. You didn’t give me a say in the matter.”

“Because it’s my job to keep you safe, Vanessa. If that makes me the villain here, so be it. Pack up. We’ll grab Oliver from school on the way out of town.”

“No.” The word came out sharp, almost shrill. She drew a breath and lowered her voice. “I’m not running again.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I do.” She moved around the counter, putting distance between them, needing space to think. “Oliver’s happy here. He has friends, stability. I won’t tear him away from that again.”

“What happens to him if Aleksandr finds you?”

Her ex’s name took some of the defiance out of her spine. She’d been so focused on the local threats—Hank Goodwin, Bailee Cooper’s murder, the anonymous note—that she’d almost let herself forget about the bigger monster circling somewhere in the dark.

“He doesn’t know where we are,” she said, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew how naive they sounded. “You said so.”

“As far as we know, he doesn’t. But he’s got resources. Money. People who owe him favors. And if the sheriff keeps digging, it’s only a matter of time until Alek finds out.” Brandt’s expression softened marginally. “I’ve kept you safe for four years. You need to trust me now.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold. Through the front window, she could see Main Street going about its lazy afternoon business. Mrs. Henderson walking her ancient poodle. Two teenagers on bikes, probably heading to the swimming hole on Blacktail River. All blissfully unaware of the violence that could erupt in their quiet town because of her.

“What about Jax?”

Brandt’s jaw tightened. “What about him?”

“He was arrested because he tried to help me, even though I’m the one who put him on the sheriff’s radar in the first place. If I disappear now?—”

“He’ll figure it out. Men like him always do.”

“Men like him?” Anger flared hot and sudden in her chest. “You don’t know him.”

“I know his file. I know what he did to that woman in California. I know he’s dangerous.”

“He’s not.” She took a step toward him. “He’s broken and sad, but he’s also kind and sweet. He’s trying to heal, and he doesn’t deserve this… thishatredhe gets from everybody the moment they find out about his past.”