Page 4 of In Hiding

2.

Jake stared up at the white, two-story cottage as a gust of cool wind rustled through the bushes. The quiet of the forest weighed heavily on his shoulders while dread settled in the pit of his stomach. He’d felt it building as he rode the winding road up through the mountains to land here, at a B&B in the heart of alpine country.

He’d been here before and nothing had changed on the outside. White weatherboards and a green tin roof reminded him of the job that brought him here last. If circumstances were different, he could almost imagine spending a relaxing weekend in a place like this, but the situation was what it was, and he’d come in desperation.

The fading light of the afternoon mocked him for arriving so late in the day. The drive from Melbourne had been long and served only to twist his thoughts until all he could think about was getting this over and done with.

He had no doubt how this would go.

Maybe she’d scream at him.

Or glare at him in silence.

At the very least, he was sure she’d slam the door in his face.

He couldn’t blame her. After everything he’d done, he deserved her wrath—and then some.

If her husband should be home... Jake shuddered. He wished he had any other way of locating the Great Dane’s sister, but he’d exhausted every option he could think of. This was his last resort. He swallowed and squared his shoulders.

Get it done.

He jogged up the wooden steps and knocked on the solid pine door. His courage teetered on a knife’s edge, causing his heart to pound in his chest. Seconds ticked by. Footsteps sounded inside and a woman’s voice called out for someone to chop the onions before the door swung inward, practically sucking the air from his lungs.

He blinked. The sight of her slowed his heart. Her pale Irish skin. The fiery red hair. She’d trimmed it so it flowed around her shoulders. But it was those emerald eyes that speared him and turned his tongue to stone.

Lucinda Green.

“Jake?”

Fear drummed in his ears. A minute passed. He needed to say something, to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth and use his words before she sent him on his way.

“Who is it, Lucy... oh, Christ.”

Her husband appeared behind her. His dirty blond hair was pulled back to a ponytail and a scruffy beard covered half his face. Time hadn’t aged him, and as for Lucy, she was as beautiful as Jake remembered. More so, if that were possible.

Finally, he coughed, the action freeing him from his paralyzed trance. “I need your help.”

Real smooth. The lines he’d rehearsed on the ride up the mountain evaporated.

Lucy blinked. Her head jerked backward, and she looked as though she was about to laugh. “My help?”

“You are kidding, right?” Kit Martin stepped out from behind Lucy. The size of his chest suggested he’d match Jake blow for blow should it come to that. “After everything you put us—her—through? Who the hell do you think you are?”

A man on a mission. Jake looked to Lucy. “I don’t have anyone else to turn to.”

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