Full Surrender

“I know, but you never said that you’ve been threatened.” Her mother’s voice went up an octave. “One of these emails includes your photograph with a target superimposed on it. We need to contact the police.”

Stephanie drew Danny’s jacket tighter around her shoulders as she realized she was shaking. Hard.

“Mom, please calm down.” If only for my sake. “Forward the letters to me and I’ll pass them along to the agency that reviews them.”

“These could be your kidnappers hunting you down,” her mother reminded her, her words edged with dread. “Do you know how easy it is to find an address for anyone in this country?”

“My kidnappers are not looking for me.” Stephanie took deep breaths. She’d been in counseling—both for dealing with her mom and for dealing with her captivity. So she knew that getting wound up before she knew the facts was counterproductive.

Still, she’d never fully recovered from that fear of the dark after having a bag over her head for hours. Standing on the edges of the party right now didn’t help the rising anxiety, either. But she sure hadn’t expected this from her mother’s frantic need to get in touch with her.

“You don’t know that,” her mom snapped. “You need to talk to the Murphy family about this. They have the kind of resources that could protect you—”

“No.” Frustration nudged away some of the fear. “I have been dealing with the letters for years. I’m not suddenly helpless just because I’m seeing Danny.”

She heard the bite to her words, knowing she only reacted strongly because it would be far too tempting to run to the shelter of Danny’s arms. But that wasn’t happening. She didn’t need to be rescued anymore.

Strained silence lingered and Stephanie took the moment to walk back toward the lights of Danny’s parents’ home. Back toward the sound of laughter and music. A bonfire on the edge of the festivities lit up more of the night, drawing Stephanie like a beacon.

“Will you at least pick up your phone when I ring through next time?” her mother asked, the words stilted with wounded feelings.

Guilt niggled even as Stephanie knew she needed to stand strong.

“I’m at a party for Danny’s homecoming, but I will call you in the morning, okay?” She tried a gentler tone, her gaze sweeping the grounds for any sign of Danny.

Stephanie told herself she would not collapse into his arms or pour out a bunch of unjustified worries to him when she saw him. She just wanted to feel that heat between them, certain it would burn away the icy cold in her belly.

“Very well.” The clipped words barely hid Mom’s anger. “But if you don’t contact the police by morning, I will.”

The call disconnected, adding more guilt to the mixed cocktail of emotions swirling through her.

“There you are.” Danny emerged from the shadows, making her jump. “Are you okay?”

I’m fine. She wanted to say it. Wanted to issue a sexy invitation that would make them forget everything but sizzling attraction.

But what if someone truly wanted to find her? Hurt her? Worse, what if someone hurt Danny in the process?

She was shaking her head before she made a conscious decision to confide in him. Damn it. Damn it.

“What is it?” His arm was around her, steering her away from the party toward the house. “Is everything all right at home?”

“No.” Swallowing hard, she squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment, hating the past for coming back to haunt her over and over and over. “Everything is not okay.”

12

AN HOUR LATER, back in the privacy of the gatehouse, Danny thought he had most of the story straight. Some color had returned to Stephanie’s cheeks as she sat on a high stool pulled up to the breakfast bar in the kitchen. He’d made her hot tea to warm her up since she’d been icy cold when he’d found her on the outskirts of the party.

And it was no wonder she’d been chilled.

She received hate mail with regularity, her book apparently targeted by some fringe radical group in the States that suggested her plea for peace was anti-American. She’d pulled up her email on his laptop and shown him a sample of the letters her publishing company had received in the past three months, along with the file forwarded from her mother. What he didn’t understand was this group that supposedly vetted her “fan” mail.

He would tread carefully, though, knowing she was upset with her mother’s interference. It was all he could do not to call a private protection agency right now to ensure no one came near her. Sure, he could fill that role for her for a couple of weeks. But what about when he left?