"There's a woman in danger at one of those camps. Do you want to be responsible if we get there too late because you were scared to go out on the mountain at night?"

The kid puffed out his chest. "I'm not scared. I'm just not an idiot."

"Then prove it. And keep us safe while you're doing it."

Chapter Fifty-Two.

Savage River

Maggie Lyons

Maggie got Jen a gla.s.s of water and took her back to the bedroom to tuck her in. They were sharing a double bed-an inflatable air mattress. The boys were out cold on the floor in their sleeping bags. It always amazed her how hard they slept. Of course, they played hard, too, and, since they'd been up here with Xander, worked hard, as well.

This room was Xander's armory, and playroom. Weapons in various forms lined the walls, guns and bows and artillery, a variety wide enough the ATF would probably freak if they ever saw. He'd pushed a table out of the way that contained all of his fishing lures, tackle and numerous other things Maggie didn't recognize.

It was nice, having guy friends who could do some of the fathering Roy was incapable of providing. Noah and Bobby had both been up here before. To them, visiting Xander's was like a really elaborate camping trip. She wondered if they'd remember the fun times they had up here when all was said and done.

Now that she'd finally listened to Jen, who'd been trying to tell her about the scary man across the street for three days, now that they knew for sure who had killed Croswell and, of course, Donovan, Maggie had no illusions about what was going to happen.

She and Xander were next. And once they were gone, the whole situation went far, far away.

She didn't want to die. She'd already been through h.e.l.l, and come out the other side. Not unscathed, never unscathed, but whole enough to get her life back on track.

She had made mistakes. Big mistakes. Getting involved with Perry Fisher-that had been a whopper. She'd always hated women who cheated, but once Roy started drinking more and more, treating her like she was a piece of dirt trapped under the sole of his shoe, after he punched her when she was home on leave and she had to return to her unit with a black eye and lie about how she got it, something in her changed. Her allegiance to Roy was shattered. She met Perry, and was lost. Perry was a gentleman, a soft-spoken soldier with intensely blue eyes that to Maggie seemed like staring into a perfect summer sky. He was married, as well, which made her feel doubly bad, but he'd filed for an official separation before they got involved, so she supposed it wasn't as much of a sin as it would have been if he was just getting his rocks off.

He loved her. And she loved him.

When it became apparent to both of them that their feelings went deeper than just a simple physical affair, she'd gone online and found the makings necessary to file for divorce from Roy. Separation wasn't even on the drawing board. Roy would have to be a clean split, or else he'd never let her go. Not all the way.

But she had to tell him in person. She owed it to him. So they were waiting for her to get back to the States to file.

She and Perry s.n.a.t.c.hed time together whenever they could, which wasn't a lot. War doesn't leave a lot of downtime. But they'd managed to finagle leave together, back at Kandahar Airfield. Compared to being out on the roads, the Kaf was the Four Seasons.

And that's when it all went south.

The fight they'd had after the "incident," as she called it, was epic. She'd come out an emotional wreck. Perry died three days later, and nine days after that, while she was still in the grips of horror, she found out she was pregnant with Jen.

She went straight to the doctor, determined to have an abortion, but couldn't go through with it. The doctors who treated her wrote her a medical discharge, and she was out of Dodge before you could shake a stick. She wasn't even going to pretend she wanted to stay. She just wanted, no, needed, to lick her wounds at home, away from prying eyes.

There was no way to play Roy, though. She was three months gone before the dust settled and she was back in Georgetown, applying to law schools. One look at him, drunk and weaving, the fire of anger boiling in his eyes, and she blurted out the truth, told him she wanted a divorce and threatened to kill him if he touched her again.

She didn't tell him the name of Jen's father, though.

She didn't tell anyone.

She kept her head down, worked hard, loved her kids, all three of them, and tried to forget. Until three days ago, when Hal Croswell was murdered across the street from her house, and all she knew to do was bug out. She ran straight for Xander and told him the whole story, start to finish. Not the party line. She'd told him what really happened. He'd gotten her set up with the boys and immediately headed south, to Billy, to bring him to the safety of Xander's home. But he was too late. Billy had caved under the pressure.

They were all dead. And the man who killed them was still out there. Haunting her. Hunting her. Trying to make sure the secrets never came out.

She put her head in the pillow and let the tears come.

Chapter Fifty-Three.

Savage River

Dr. Samantha Owens

Sam watched Maggie's subtle retreat to the bedroom. Xander got up from the table and cleaned the kitchen in silence. He was a big man, naturally lean and muscled from outdoor work. He took up a lot of real estate in the small kitchen s.p.a.ce.

She considered him for a few moments. When nothing was forthcoming, she said, "Um, hey. Are you planning to share? Because I'd really like to know what's going on. You know who killed them now?"

"Yeah," Xander said. She could practically hear the gears turning in his head, but he didn't say anything more. She sighed and nudged him again.

"Are you going to tell me who did this, or are you going to keep me in the dark, like you have everyone else?"

He shut the refrigerator door.

"Let's go for a walk."

More walking. Her legs were like rubber already. He must have realized the reason for her hesitation, because he smiled and said, "Just outside. It's a pretty night. Here." He took a thick flannel jacket off the peg by the door and tossed it to her. "Put this on. You really shouldn't be out in the woods without a coat."

She glared at him and put the coat on. She swam inside it, but the warmth curled around her and she relaxed. She'd been cold all night. He was the reason she was devoid of suitable outerwear. If he hadn't kidnapped her... G.o.d, that smile of his was like turning on a light switch in a dark attic. It illuminated everything around him.

"Come on."

Sam was getting awfully good at following orders. She stepped out the front door, waited while he shut it behind them. The darkness surrounded them, pushing in, and she suddenly felt afraid. Now that she'd heard some details, was he going to get rid of her?

"Dr. Owens. You can relax. On my honor, I promise I'm not going to hurt you."

G.o.d, he could read her like an open book.

"You can call me Sam, you know."

"I'd like that." He took her hand and led her from the porch, surefooted as a mountain lion in the pitch-dark. The moon had set already, but it would have been blocked by the chimney on this side of the house, she realized.

"We can sit here."

Xander helped Sam find a seat. She swung above the ground for a sickening moment, then settled, her feet barely touching. She felt a breeze on her b.u.t.t. She realized it must be a rope hammock. She heard a sharp flick, then saw flames dancing in Xander's hands. He dropped the two matches onto the ground, and a nice fire sparked. Now that there was some light, Sam could see the fire pit clearly. Simple and clean, prepped and waiting, just like the rest of his things.

"A hammock by the fire? Is the ambiance appropriate now?"

"I like to lay out here and think sometimes."

"It's...nice," she said. She expected her teeth to start chattering, but the jacket held its warmth. And his smell. Evergreen and the tiniest hint of sweat.

Jesus, Sam. Get it together.

He worked the fire a bit, then settled on his haunches on the ground next to her. No, he wasn't on the ground. She realized he was perched on a tree stump, looking like it was the most comfortable place in the world. He set the gun against his leg.

The creaking of the night settled around them like a blanket. Insects chirped, birds rustled. She could hear her own breath, and his. It was time.

"You know what's on the pages Donovan tore out of his journal, don't you."

"I think so," Xander said. "Are you sure you want to hear the story? It's not sanitized."

"Of course I do. My G.o.d, isn't that why I'm here? To hear the truth?"

"You're here so I can keep you safe."

Around and around the mulberry bush. This man was going to drive her crazy.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why do you feel the need to keep me safe?"

"Because you need looking after."

Way to state the obvious. Sam wasn't a warrior. She was just a girl. That had been emphasized all the more back in the cabin when she was sitting side by side with Maggie, who was also of the female persuasion but could hardly be called girlie. h.e.l.l, even the way she strutted around with the weapons was graceful and contained. She reminded Sam of Taylor. That was funny.

"I don't disagree with that. I do need looking after. But why does it have to be you? The cops can take care of me. They've done a decent job of it so far."

"Ha. They sent you, a civilian, into an ambush, nearly got you killed, then lost you on a mountaintop. I'd hardly call that taking good care."

Xander poked at the fire, and the blanket of silence settled over them. She gave it a few minutes before she acquiesced. Maybe agreeing with him would draw him out more.

"Granted. But the way you say it, it's like you have an obligation to me or something. You don't. You don't even know me."

"I know you better than you think."

He got quiet again. She felt like she was pulling teeth, long, slow, arduous teeth that were cemented in a fossilized mandible. She let her breath out slowly, hoping some of the exasperation she was feeling would bleed away. It didn't.

"Eddie loved you a lot, you know," Xander said.

That she wasn't expecting. It was obvious that Eddie had mentioned her to Xander, or else he wouldn't feel the need to keep her tucked away, but she never imagined his feelings had been this deep. Not after such a long time.

"We hadn't talked in almost fifteen years," she said quietly.

"Doesn't matter. A man never forgets his first love. And you were his."

She laughed, a harsh, unforgiving sound that surprised her. "No, I wasn't. I was his second. The Army was always his first love."

"Hoo-rah," Xander said automatically.

"Exactly my point."

"Point taken. But you can't think it didn't break his heart to leave you, too. Because it did. I knew him before he met Susan. She was the best thing that could have happened to him. Because until he met her...that man was lost without you."

Sam didn't want to hear that. Didn't want to be reminded of what might have been. There was no going back in this life, no do-overs. She'd walked away, across the bridge, and closed the door on Eddie Donovan forever. Or so she thought.

The night air drew in around them, and she used the chirping crickets as cover for her shaky breath.

"It wasn't supposed to be him. We both knew that. Him leaving was for the best."

Xander tossed the stick to the ground. "He knew that. G.o.d, Sam, don't you see? He left because of the obligation he felt to you. He knew he'd put you in an untenable situation. Making you choose between the man you'd loved for years and the man you'd practically just met? He couldn't handle the thought that, one day, you'd wake up and realize you'd chosen the wrong man. He didn't want to put you through that. So he pushed you as far away as he could. He sacrificed his own happiness to a.s.sure yours."

Sam couldn't hold the tears back anymore.

Donovan, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Still making me cry. You weren't supposed to love me like that.

Xander waited patiently while she pulled it together. Finally, she took a deep breath and wiped at her eyes.

"I didn't know that. Thank you for telling me. It helps. I'm glad he was able to find happiness again. But he found you, obviously. You were his very good friend. I can tell."

"Yes, we were. We met in Ranger school. An experience like that bonds men. Of course, that's part of its intent. Then we were both a.s.signed to the 75th, though we started in different units. By our third rotation, though, he was my commanding officer. Man could have risen through the ranks like he was on fire, been a colonel, even a general, easily. He was a great leader. He cared about his men. He didn't just keep them safe out on missions, he helped them with their money troubles, girlfriend troubles, wh.o.r.e troubles. He called and wrote letters to each parent as soon as their son or daughter joined the unit, letting them know he was watching their backs. He fought for better facilities, more rack time, safer gear, real counseling after bad missions. When we lost someone, he cried with us. He inspired loyalty. That can't be taught. It has to come from within."

She could see him tense, the line of his shoulders taut under his jacket.

"You were in charge of men, too. You must have embodied some of that."