Chapter 30
Joy hummed softly as she stepped out of the shower, wrapping a fluffy towel around her body. Steam billowed around her, fogging the mirror and filling the small bathroom with warmth. She couldn’t stop smiling as she thought about the day.
Not only had they solved the mystery of the thefts, but Bear’s interaction with those boys had shown a side of him that made her heart swell. The way he’d turned punishment into opportunity, mentorship instead of condemnation—it was exactly who he was at his core.
“And he loves me,” she whispered to her reflection as she wiped a circle in the fog-covered mirror. The words had slipped out so naturally from him, as if he’d been saying them to her all his life.
Joy rubbed her hair with a second towel, drying the brown strands as she padded into her bedroom. The evening stretched ahead of her with possibility. She’d pack an overnight bag, grab that blue lingerie set Bear hadn’t seen yet, and head to his place. The thought sent a delicious shiver through her that had nothing to do with the cooling air against her damp skin.
She dropped her towel, reaching for her favorite lotion on the dresser—and paused.
The bottle wasn’t where she’d left it.
Joy stared at the spot, a tiny wrinkle appearing between her brows. She distinctly remembered placing it on the right side of the dresser this morning. Now, it sat on the left.
“Stop it,” she muttered to herself. “You’re being paranoid again.”
She refused to lose the ground she’d gained.
She snatched the lotion and applied it with quick, efficient strokes, refusing to dwell on the misplaced item. Things got moved. She forgot where she put things. It happened to everyone.
But as she pulled on leggings and a soft sweater, a nagging feeling persisted. Determined to shake it off, she marched downstairs to grab a glass of water before packing. The wooden steps creaked familiarly beneath her bare feet.
In the kitchen, she filled a glass from the tap and leaned against the counter. Everything was okay. She wasn’t going to let anything derail this day.
She set her empty glass in the sink and turned to head back upstairs—and froze.
The framed photo on her windowsill caught her eye. Something wasn’t right.
She moved closer, her heart beginning to quicken. The picture—her favorite one of her parents on their thirtieth anniversary—was turned at a different angle. She always kept it facing exactly toward the kitchen table, where she could see their smiles while she ate breakfast. She remembered looking at it this morning. Now, it was angled toward the door.
“I didn’t move this,” she whispered, her fingers hovering over the silver frame.
She glanced around the kitchen, searching for other signs of disturbance. The salt and pepper shakers were reversed. The drawer that held her dish towels was slightly ajar—she always closed it fully because it tended to stick.
She wasn’t going to ignore her instincts anymore. And she wasn’t going to hide this from Bear. She picked up her phone and dialed his number.
He answered on the first ring. “Hey, Bug. I’m going to be back sooner than I thought. Should be?—”
“Bear,” she interrupted, her voice low and tight. “I think someone’s been in my house.”
A beat of silence. “Are you sure?”
“Stuff has been moved. Things I know I didn’t do.”
No questioning. No skepticism. Just immediate, unwavering trust. “I’m on my way. Five minutes. Don’t touch anything in case there are fingerprints.”
“I—”
A soft thump from upstairs cut her words short. Unmistakable. The sound of weight shifting on old floorboards.
Her blood turned to ice.
“There’s someone upstairs. In the house right now. I just heard the floorboards creak,” she whispered, her body going rigid. “They must’ve come in while I was getting dressed after my shower. I don’t think they know I’m here.”
“Get out,” Bear commanded again, his voice strained with urgency. “Right now. Go to Mrs. Fuller’s. The Eagle’s Nest. Anywhere. I’m coming.”
Joy’s mind raced. The front door was across the house, past the stairway. She’d have to walk right below where she’d heard the noise. The back door was closer, through the garage.
“I’m leaving now,” she told Bear, her voice steadier than she felt. “Side door.”
“Stay on the phone with me.”
As Joy moved silently toward the back door, the third stair from the bottom creaked—the one she always skipped because it made too much noise. Someone was coming down.
Her heart lurched. No time to escape. She’d walk right by the intruder no matter what door she tried to get out.
“Bear,” she breathed into the phone. “They’re coming downstairs. I can’t make it to either door.”
“Hide,” he urged. “I’m four minutes out.”
Joy’s gaze landed on the baseball bat propped in the corner by the kitchen doorway. She knew how to protect herself with it.
She set the phone down quietly on the counter, making sure the call was still connected. She hefted the bat, its weight both familiar and comforting in her grip. She pressed her back against the wall behind the kitchen door, positioning herself where she’d be invisible to anyone entering. Her pulse hammered, but her mind remained crystal clear.
Bear’s training sessions flashed through her mind. Stance wide. Grip firm but not rigid. Swing through, not at . She’d practiced these movements until they lived in her muscle memory. The element of surprise belonged to her now.
The footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs and paused. The floorboards in the hallway creaked under deliberate, measured steps heading toward the kitchen.
Joy regulated her breathing with practiced discipline—in through the nose, out through the mouth. Silent. Controlled. Just as Bear had taught her.
A shadow stretched across the kitchen floor as someone hesitated at the doorway.
One heartbeat. Two.
A man stepped into view, his side to her as he surveyed the kitchen. Joy recognized him almost instantly—Daniel, the hiker. His attention was focused on a small rectangular device in his palm, displaying what was unmistakably her bedroom. Her stomach clenched with revulsion.
What the actual fuck?
Adrenaline surged through her veins, but she waited. Patience. Timing. Position.
Daniel ventured deeper into the kitchen, engrossed in the screen. The moment his body cleared the doorway completely, Joy emerged from her hiding place, raising the bat with lethal precision.
He whirled at her movement, eyes widening before narrowing with calculation. He lunged toward her, just as Jakob Kozak had done two months ago.
But tonight was different. Joy was different.
Daniel charged, clearly expecting his superior strength would easily overpower her. A fatal miscalculation. She pivoted gracefully, using his momentum against him. The bat connected with his side in a controlled, powerful arc.
The impact vibrated up her arms. Daniel grunted but remained standing, staggering before launching another attack, desperately reaching for the bat.
Joy danced back, switching her grip. He was bigger, stronger, but she was quicker and—unlike last time—trained.
“You’ve been watching me,” she spat, dodging his lunge with practiced ease. “Breaking in to my house to plant cameras?”
Daniel’s face contorted with effort as he feinted left, then dove right, managing to grab the end of the bat. They struggled, circling the kitchen island in a deadly dance.
“What’s in my bedroom?” Joy demanded, refusing to yield an inch. “Cameras? Listening devices?”
The flicker in his eyes confirmed everything. White-hot rage fueled her strength.
“You sick—” She broke off as he twisted the bat sharply, nearly wrenching it from her grasp.
His fingers closed around her wrist, squeezing painfully. Joy immediately dropped her weight, another thing Bear had taught her, and used Daniel’s own momentum to throw him off-balance. As he staggered, she executed a perfect elbow strike to his ribs.
He wheezed but recovered with alarming speed. He grabbed for her throat.
She ducked under his arm, driving her shoulder into his chest while simultaneously hooking her foot behind his ankle. The classic takedown worked perfectly. He crashed to the floor, and she immediately followed through by bringing the bat down across his legs to prevent him from rising.
He howled in pain, curling protectively around his injured limb. But as Joy backed away, preparing for another attack, Daniel pulled a knife from a sheath at his waist.
“You’ve ruined everything,” he snarled, struggling to his feet despite his injury. “Months of planning wasted because you couldn’t keep sleeping in that stupid playhouse—surveilling you was so much easier out there. The perfect setup. I was collecting crucial information for my story.”
“What?”
“When you moved back in here, I had to change everything. Set up cameras inside. You were the key to this whole thing.”
His words made no sense, but the knife in his hand spoke with terrifying clarity.
“If I’m arrested, my story dies with me. It’s too important.” He inched closer, his intention with the knife unmistakable. “I’ll have to make it look like one more trauma victim who couldn’t handle it—chose to end her life. Small-town tragedy.” His eyes lit with a disturbing gleam. “That will actually strengthen my narrative.”
He lunged across the island with unexpected speed. But Joy was done retreating, done being prey for this man or any other. She advanced with restrained fury, meeting his charge head on. The bat connected with his shoulder with a sickening crack. He howled, stumbling backward.
Joy pressed her advantage, no longer afraid. He fumbled for his knife, but his injured arm slowed him down. Joy saw her opening and took it, sweeping the bat in an arc that connected with his head.
The impact reverberated up her arms. Daniel’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the floor like a puppet with cut strings.
Joy stood over him, chest heaving, bat still raised. Her wrist throbbed where he’d grabbed her, but adrenaline kept the pain at bay. She quickly kicked the knife away from his unconscious form.
The front door crashed open with such force it could have been ripped from its hinges. Bear’s voice bellowed her name, raw with panic.
“In the kitchen,” she called back.
Footsteps pounded through the house, and then Bear burst into the kitchen, his expression wild with fear and rage. He froze for a split second, taking in the scene—Daniel unconscious on the floor, Joy standing victorious above him, bat still gripped in her hands.
“Joy.” Her name escaped him like a prayer as he crossed to her in three powerful strides.
“I’m okay,” she assured him, finally lowering the bat. “He had a knife. He was going to kill me.”
He cupped her face with exquisite gentleness, his eyes scanning her for injuries. “Are you hurt?”
“Just my wrist. I’m fine, Bear. Really.”
The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, though his expression remained thunderous as he turned to look at Daniel.
“He installed cameras in the house,” Joy explained, her voice steadier now. “Said something about the perfect setup and a small-town tragedy .”
Bear’s face transformed into something dangerous and predatory—the Marine combat veteran emerging beneath the small-town mechanic.
“We’ll call Callum,” he said, his voice so controlled it was almost frightening. “Then sit you down before your adrenaline crash hits.”
Bear efficiently zip-tied Daniel’s wrists and ankles with restraints from his truck’s emergency kit. His movements were precise, economical, utterly professional. Yet beneath that control, she could see the barely contained fury in the tightness of his jaw, the rigid set of his shoulders. Daniel was already moaning and waking up.
“You did good, Bug,” Bear said quietly. “Better than good.”
Joy nodded, suddenly overwhelmed by bone-deep exhaustion as the adrenaline began to ebb. She staggered toward the kitchen table, her legs suddenly unreliable.
“I remembered everything you taught me,” she managed. “I wasn’t scared this time. Not like before.”
He caught her before she could stumble, his powerful arms encircling her with protective warmth. “That’s because you’re strong. Always have been.”
She glanced down at Daniel, securely restrained on her kitchen floor, then back at the man holding her—her personal superhero who would move heaven and earth to protect her.
But she hadn’t needed him to. Tonight, she’d protected herself.
“Yeah,” Joy agreed, resting her head against Bear’s chest, drawing comfort from the strong, steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I guess I am.”