Something wasn’t right.

The knowing began when she woke an hour ago in unfamiliar surroundings. Even though Devon’s beautiful townhouse was a hundred times better than the sterile box Allison called home, she’d broken into a cold sweat when she’d jerked awake and couldn’t place where she was. In the darkness, it had all come flooding back. Her heart had pounded recklessly, recalling yesterday’s events. Her fears of Logan’s reaction to her pregnancy. Her disbelief in his acceptance. Learning Rick had dragged her ex-husband back into her life, shredding the years of solitary confinement and vigilance she’d perfected. All so Rick could prove she was an imposter. And in a way, she was. Rick didn’t need to go digging. She’d faked normalcy for so long that living a lie was natural. She’d shoved down her own hopes and desires, waiting until she stepped off the plane in Paris to reinvent herself.

Now, there was no chance of starting over clean and safe and free.

Devon was right. Logan would never let her go.

Allison felt trapped all over again.

Staring up at the door of her apartment, she willed herself to move forward. Dread dragged her feet as she climbed the stairs. She wondered, could Trevor have located her by now?

Imagination taking over, she could almost see the shadows give way as she opened the door, revealing the cold dark eyes of true evil. Trevor’s form sitting on her couch, deceptively relaxed as she walked in and met his unholy grin, as he said, “Welcome home, wife.”

A shiver trembled across her shoulders. She paused on the landing. She wanted to call Logan, knowing if anything happened he’d move the Rocky Mountains to get between her and harm’s way.

The thought struck a chord of bravery inside her. She didn’t need a man to chase away her ghosts. This was her place, she was in control.

She marched up to the door. She unlocked the deadbolts and pushed inside, ready to confront the devil himself.

The scene before her was nothing like she’d pictured. Her jaw dropped.

Her apartment was empty. Cleaned out. A few lazy specks of dust drifted in and out of the morning light. That was all.

“What the…?”

Immediately, she went to her security alarm. The system hummed along innocently, unaware of her shock and incomprehension.

“Hello?” she called out. Empty echoes returned to her.

Throwing her purse over her shoulder, she clutched it like a defensive weapon, prepared for whatever might leap out of the shadows. Nothing did. She confirmed her entire apartment was barren, devoid of any proof she’d ever been there at all.

A tiny crack edged its way up the center of her heart. Bereft of the few belongings she owned, she might as well have been wiped off the face of the earth.

Her arm dropped to her side, purse dragging on the floor. Her spirit deflated as if the wind of endurance had abandoned her sails. “Who could’ve done this?”

Instinct took her back to her security system. Absorbed with her dark worries, she hadn’t realized it wasn’t beeping when she walked in her door. Someone had tampered with it. That was the only explanation.

An edgy sensation came over her. Trevor didn’t have the skill to disarm a system as complex as one of Stone Security’s. Only one person who could’ve pulled off this heist. Without anyone knowing the wiser.

Logan .

Allison didn’t lock the door behind her. There was nothing to keep in, and no one to keep out.

Frustrated tears stung her eyes. She hated that feeling, the regret that clenched inside like fists of rage.

How dare he?

Logan. The one person she hoped wouldn’t behave like her ex had cast himself in a new light. Hell-bent and ruthless.

She dug out her phone and scrolled through the few numbers she had saved. Logan’s cell was number one. She swallowed that bitter pill of realization.

“Stone, here.”

“Logan, what have you done?” Her lungs grabbed for breath.

“Come to me. I’ll explain everything.”

CHAPTER 6

Sitting at his desk, Logan saw a New Message notification flash on his screen. He clicked from a report to his email. It was from Allison. No text in the message, only the subject line which read: Be in my office in thirty minutes.

Touché . A half-smile kicked up the corner of his mouth.

Without hesitation, he clicked the check mark to accept the invite. Then he went back to his project report.

Soon after, he lost the ability to concentrate on work. He knew what lay in store. Starting with Allison reaming him out, followed by…what, he wasn’t sure. He was confident he’d done the right thing, the only thing he could do—make sure the mother of his child was safe. The kind of protection only he could provide, which included her living under his roof.

The words in the report blurred, the letters creating incoherent phrases. He caught himself tapping his foot. It didn’t help that meeting reminder messages kept flashing at him every five minutes like a bunker warning that screamed “fire in the hole!” He clicked Dismiss All .

He shoved his chair away from his desk, the casters rolling him back two feet. He stood and paced. He crossed his arms. Uncrossed them. Stared at the view of the Denver skyline from his corner office.

Rolling his neck to ease his tight muscles, he thought back on that morning. Before dawn, when he met the moving van outside her apartment, he’d had all his arguments in a row like a checklist he could mark off as he hit each rational point.

That he and Allison would have this argument at work, however, left a bad taste of uncertainty in his mouth. Maybe he could convince her to wait until the end of the day to have it out with him. Yeah, and maybe the Cubs will win the World Series .

An odd sensation hooked into his nerves, making his skin itch and his heart beat irregular. His palms were moist like he was about to show up for a first date with roses and champagne with a woman he knew would turn him down.

He stopped pacing and shook his head. “Don’t be an idiot,” he mocked himself.

When the hands of his titanium Rolex read nine-thirty, the sense of impending doom had not disappeared.

This is stupid . He’d go in, lay out the facts, and field all the objections she lobbed at him. Like dodging mortar shells.

“Should be fun,” he muttered. He left his office for hers. Along the way a stab of remorse gouged him for putting her through this same thing yesterday when he’d called her into his office.

The battalion of employees that rushed him when he emerged from his office was strangely absent. Usually they hovered around him, pelting him with questions only he could answer, shoving papers in his face only he could sign. But the hallway was empty.