Chapter One
Sophie
My hands shook as I measured a short length of tape. Staring down at the black cockroach in my hand, I wondered again how I’d gotten myself into this mess.
It’s not what you’re thinking. The cockroach wasn’t real.
I’ve learned how to be brave in the past few years, but not brave enough to carry around live bugs.
Yuck. No, this cockroach had been carefully cut out of black construction paper, along with the selection of spiders and crickets spread across the seat of the leather couch.
It was after two in the morning, and I was in my employer’s library, fumbling in the dark to tape the fake bugs to the inside of the white silk lampshades.
The next person to flip on the lights would be treated to the illusion that huge bugs lurked inside the lamps.
I could already imagine the screams that would echo through the house.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
I really had to find a way to keep my charge off the internet. Boredom plus an active mind equals trouble. At least it does when your name is Amelia Winters.
Since Amelia was seventy-eight and her hands weren’t as nimble as mine, I got roped into carrying out the pranks she dreamed up. I was supposed to be her nurse, and I was when she needed one.
High blood pressure and type two diabetes meant she needed some supervision, but not enough to require live-in care. Since most of the family had moved out of the enormous house, and Amelia’s great nephew Aiden traveled often for work, I was there to keep her both healthy and entertained.
It could have been a lonely job, if not for Amelia. Her pranks aside, she was a blast to work for - funny and loyal and sweet. Her body was slowing down, but her mind was sharp, and she had a wicked sense of humor. Sometimes too wicked.
The pranks, case in point. At least once a week she came up with a new one, sending me out for materials and instructing me on the details of her plans.
At first, I’d worried she was going to get me fired. Since my husband had died, I’d been bouncing from job to job. I’d been more than ready to settle down when I’d been hired here, and I hadn’t wanted to be kicked out for lining the hallway with tiny cups filled with water.
Amelia might be almost eighty, but her sense of humor was a lot more frat-boy than elderly matron.
Fortunately for me, the family was well versed in Amelia’s ways.
Aiden, who’d scared the heck out of me when he’d hired me, adored his great-aunt.
She could probably set the house on fire, and he’d laugh and kiss her on the cheek.
The rest of them were the same—affectionate and amused by Amelia’s antics.
The only two exceptions were the housekeeper, Mrs. Williamson, and Aiden’s cousin, Gage.
Mrs. Williamson and Amelia were chalk and cheese.
Mrs. W was far too proper to admit she didn’t love every member of the Winters family, but we all knew Amelia drove her nuts.
Amelia, for her part, delighted in pestering Mrs. W.
More than once I’d heard her mutter under her breath that Mrs. W had a stick up her you-know-where.
She’d never say it, but I’m pretty sure Mrs. W thought Amelia should give in and act her age. I’d only been with the family for six months, but I could have told her that was a lost cause. By all accounts, Amelia Winters had never acted her age, and at seventy-eight, she wasn’t about to start.
I adored Amelia, and I had to admit, some of her pranks were funny, but I liked Mrs. W too much to let her think her beloved Winters House was infested with six-inch cockroaches. As soon as I’d taped the last fake insect in place, I pulled out my phone to shoot Mrs. W a warning text.
Sometime tomorrow she’d come into the library on a made-up pretext and let out a very convincing scream. Amelia would get her laugh, and Mrs. W wouldn’t have to kill her. Everyone would be happy.
I tapped SEND on my text and went to shove the phone in the pocket of my robe when two arms closed around my chest like steel bars, pinning my hands to my sides.
My phone tumbled from nerveless fingers, bouncing off my bare toes and skidding across the carpet. I froze where I was, my heart thumping in my chest so hard I heard the whoosh of blood in my ears.
Panic shot ice down my spine.
My nerves screamed: DANGER! DANGER!
Head spinning with fear, I tried to think. The long, hard body pressed to my back made that impossible. Eyes squeezed shut, memories flashed against my closed lids, a newsreel of everything I wanted to forget.
Hard hands grabbing me in the dark, dragging me from my bed. Pain.
It isn’t Anthony, I told myself. Anthony is dead.
Summoning every ounce of courage I had, I said, “Let me go.”
A low, husky voice rumbled in my ear. “Not until you tell me what the hell you’re doing in here in the middle of the night.”
A hitch in my voice, I said, “Amelia. Amelia sent me.”
The words tangled in my throat. I couldn’t say more. The heat of a male body so close to mine, the strength of his arms trapping me, his warm breath against my cheek - it was too much.
I hadn’t been this close to a man—any man–since my husband had died.
After Anthony, I’d never wanted to be this close to a man again.
In a rush of awareness, I knew this wasn’t Aiden.
Aiden had always been careful to preserve a polite, formal distance between us.
If he caught me skulking around the house in the middle of the night, he’d never grab me from behind.
Heck, with the way Aiden adored Amelia he’d probably volunteer to finish the prank himself.
If it wasn’t Aiden. It had to be Gage. Aiden’s cousin had arrived two days before, when Amelia and I had been out on a shopping trip, picking up construction paper and tape.
I met him briefly at the family dinner to celebrate his homecoming, but I hadn’t seen him since.
Hoping my guess was right, I said, “I’m Sophie. Amelia’s nurse.”
A grunt in my ear, but the arms around me didn’t loosen. Shoot. I knew better than to struggle. Fighting back only made them hurt you more. My breath shallow, body still, I tried again.
“I’m allowed to be here. I’m not doing anything wrong. Please let me go.”
I felt his head drop to my shoulder, the heat of his forehead pressing into my bare neck. He drew in a deep breath.
Was he smelling me?
Panic sliced through me again.
No. Please, no. Please don’t make me have to leave this place.
I’d thought I was safe here. For the first time in years, I was safe. I didn’t want to have to leave.
His heart jackhammered, the echo of its frantic beats fluttering against my back where his chest pressed tightly to me.
“Please,” I whispered. The arms around me loosened. I stayed frozen. I was too cautious to move until I’d truly been set free. This could be a trap, and I was too smart to fall for it. Anthony had trained me well.
Warm lips brushed the side of my neck. Another deep inhale. He was smelling me. The urge to flee was almost impossible to resist, but I knew in my gut running was the worst mistake I could make.
I wracked my brain for everything I knew of Gage.
He was the oldest son of James and Anna Winters, Aiden’s aunt and uncle.
James and Anna had been brutally murdered when Gage was a child.
When Aiden’s parents had been killed in an identical crime eight years later, Gage had been eighteen.
The day after their funeral he’d joined the army.
Until today, he’d never really come home.
Details of his military service were scarce, but Amelia had told me everything she knew.
He’d enlisted, gone to college, then through officer training school, before he’d joined the Rangers.
After that he’d moved into special forces, his missions and teams so top secret his family hadn’t been sure he was still with the army until they’d called to tell Aiden that Gage was missing.
For months the family had been stuck in limbo, swinging between grief and hope, right up until a second call had informed Aiden that Gage had escaped captivity.
He was coming home as soon as the military hospital released him, but they’d warned Aiden that the months of imprisonment had taken a toll.
Gage was no longer the man his family remembered.
Aiden had commented dryly that Gage had been gone so long, they barely knew him at all. No matter what the circumstances of his homecoming, to his family, Gage was a stranger. As my panic ebbed, I realized the man holding me captive might possibly be more freaked out than I was.
He probably had some form of post-traumatic stress if he’d been held captive for months. Finding an intruder in his home was just the kind of thing that would set him off, especially when his home must seem like a foreign place after so many years away.
Logic told me that a former special forces soldier suffering from PTSD was more dangerous, not less, but my guess at what might be going through his head put me back in control.
As a woman alone in the dark, I was terrified.
As a nurse, and a woman used to dealing with volatile men, I knew what I needed to do.
“Gage?” I asked, careful to keep my voice low and soothing. “Gage, it’s okay. You can let go. I’m Amelia’s nurse. I’m allowed to be here. It’s okay.”
I kept talking in the same soothing voice, feeling the tension slip from his body. Eventually, he lifted his head and stepped back, setting me free. With an odd sense of triumph, I crossed the room before I turned around. I thought he was steady, but I wanted some space between us, just in case.
“I’m going to turn on the lamp,” I warned just before I reached beneath the shade and turned the knob. Light flared, blinding me for a moment. A deep chuckle rumbled from across the room.
“Whose idea was it?” he asked.