"Don't be mad-" The intimidating waste of s.p.a.ce that was his father, stopped him in the hallway.

Nicotine and liquor filled his nostrils. The man bathed on a need-to basis, usually when he vomited on himself or had to wash the blood off his hands from beating the s.h.i.t out of Knox or his mother.

Sunny turned at the top of the stairs. Thankfully, his father let her pa.s.s. The evil in his eyes said Knox wouldn't be as lucky.

"Go home, young lady." His father didn't turn to look at her, but he knew she was watching.

"Mickey."

"He's not a f.u.c.king cartoon character. His name is Knox. You best remember that."

"Go, Sunny. I'll call you later." Knox packed as much confidence into his words as he could.

He risked a glance over his father's shoulder, but he shouldn't have. The fear in her eyes that day stayed with him forever.

"Mr. McGraw-"

"I said go the f.u.c.k home!" He whipped around.

Knox grabbed at him but not before the back of his father's hand connected with Sunny's face.

"No!" Knox yelled, watching arms, legs, and a mess of red hair tumble down the stairs.

"You f.u.c.ker!" Pain shot in bolts of lightning from his knuckles, clear to his elbow, as he busted his dad's nose.

His father stumbled back, blood running down his face. Knox moved toward the stairs, his heart refusing to beat again until he got to Sunny.

"You're dead, boy."

In the corner of his eye, Knox caught the wrath of the drunken beast coming toward him. He made a fist and rammed his elbow sideways in his father's already broken nose. In less than three seconds the course of Knox's entire future changed forever. His father fell backward, crashing through the railing and plummeting to the first floor, smacking the weathered wood floor six feet from Sunny's limp body.

"Sunny?" Knox skidded down the stairs and dropped to his knees. "Sunny?" He cradled her body in his arms and rocked back and forth. Tears stung his eyes and fear gripped his heart.

Knight The story Knox told Jillian felt like another world, a parallel universe. With each word she felt her mother die all over again. She hated and needed each word, each one unbearable yet necessary.

"That scar by her right temple. She said she fell down the stairs and spent three days in the hospital with a concussion and a broken arm."

Knox nodded. "It wasn't a lie."

"It was. She told me she slipped on the top stair."

"Can you blame her?"

Yes. She could blame her mom, and she did. Knox didn't need to know that. Jillian wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her anger, her pain, her vulnerability. Instead, she sat idle, enduring a new kind of h.e.l.l, the kind that came from having such sacred memories tainted and completely shattered.

Her father had secrets. It was part of his job. Keeping secrets kept people alive. Her mother raised her and Jude. She folded laundry, scrubbed the floor, made Halloween costumes, and cooked three meals a day. Every Sunday she took them to church. Jessica heard the story of her mother's childhood a million times ... all of it except Knox McGraw.

"She said she was too busy studying, cheerleading, and practicing her violin to keep a boyfriend very long."

Jillian liked the pain in Knox's expression. He deserved it. They shared a mutual disappointment in Sunny for not telling the truth about her past, but for different reasons.

"That day ... when I thought she was dead, I hated myself for ever loving her, for ever putting her at the top of those stairs on that day ... with that man."

"Your dad?" Jillian coughed. She tasted blood, her throat painfully raw. "What happened to him?"

"He was taken out in a body bag."

The words "I'm sorry" sat on her tongue, but she couldn't say them, not to the man she still hated.

"My mother grieved his death for years. I have no idea why. She should have thanked me. Instead, she turned her back on me, blaming his death on my anger management issues even after Sunny backed up my account of the events to both her and the police. Rumors were everywhere and one by one, I lost my scholarship offers. By the time I graduated, I had no means to go to college ... no direction. A few of my buddies decided to get their education via the armed forces, so I did too."

"But my mom didn't end up going to college."

He shook his head, regret heavy in his sober expression. "Her dad, your grandfather, had a heart attack the summer after we graduated. He died on the operating table. Sunny refused to leave her mom and her sister so soon after his death, so she got a job working at the front desk of a hotel."

"She eventually moved to a bartending position in the hotel's restaurant."

Knox looked up. "Yes."

"She told me that's how she met my father."

His expression hardened as he nodded slowly. A few seconds later he closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall. "Yeah, but that's a complicated story."

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

Jones "I'm not as excited about Portland. I've been there." Lake stared at the ceiling from the hotel bed, twirling her long dark hair around her finger while Luke typed away on his computer.

"Sorry to disrupt your travel plans. Oh, wait ... you're disrupting mine. Did I mention I'm willing and even eager to send you back to San Francisco? I bet we can still get you a flight out tonight."

"No thanks. You want to know what I think?"

"No thanks."

"I knew you did. I think we should talk to more of AJ's neighbors. Maybe some of them went to the funeral and saw her there. If you don't want to go, I'll do it while you stay here and do ... whatever it is you're doing."

Luke spun around in the desk chair, hands folded behind his head as he arched his back to release the tension from sitting for so long. "How kind of you."

Lake leaned up on her elbows. "I know, right? We could be like Holmes and Watson."

"Mmm ... brilliant, my dear sister. But something tells me your little investigation has more to do with a certain football player and less to do with interviewing the residents of Peaceful Woods."

She failed to contain her grin. "Seriously, did I mention he's not freaked out by my leg? And he called me hot. Hot, Luke. He didn't have to call me that. It's as if he wanted me to know that..." she shrugged "...that ... well, that he thinks I'm hot."

Luke smirked.

"Don't. Don't ruin this for me. Just let me have this dream ... this fantasy. Let me play this out in my head. Can you see it? NFL quarterback shrugs off a throng of groupies after winning the Super Bowl to get to the love of his life and wait for it ... she has a prosthetic leg, but he only sees her as perfect. This dream might be it for me. I need more to take back to San Francisco. Thirty minutes, forty tops. Then I'll say goodbye forever. Oh, and of course I'll question the neighbors too."

"I'm so happy that in the midst of my tragedy you can find your own little fantasy."

"So that's a yes?"

"I think Jackson's the only one who will lead us to Jessica."

"Then you should talk to him again."

Luke shook his head. He didn't really trust Jackson to contact Knox. He didn't trust Jackson in general.

"I don't know. If he didn't have Ryn, I'd worry about him skipping town. They're here under new ident.i.ties for a reason and us being here probably makes him nervous. He's easily paranoid."

"Maybe we should stakeout his place."

Luke nodded. "Exactly. And we could use Cage's bathroom."

Lake rolled her eyes. "Hardy har har. I'm serious."

Luke spun back around in his chair. "I'm not."

"Ugh! You drive me crazy."

The feeling was mutual.

"Okay. I'll make you a deal."

"I'm listening." He typed in his screen pa.s.sword.

"If you let me go ainvestigate,' I'll fly back to San Francisco in the morning."

He whipped around in his chair. "Then go. Do you remember how to get there?"

"Yes." She pulled on her boots, her smile stealing her entire face. "I'm going to find the missing clue, Sherlock."

She wasn't going to find any new information, but it didn't matter. His sister would be on a plane back to safety in the morning. That's all that mattered.

Lake parked in one of the guest spots several houses down from AJ's.

"Brilliant. Now what?" she mumbled to herself while checking her hair in the rearview mirror.

The bathroom request wasn't going to work twice in the same day. It was a house, not a 7-Eleven. She decided the best plan was to question the neighbors first and maybe he would see her outside in the cold and invite her in for a cup of hot coffee or cuddling with him under a warm blanket.

Three strikes in a row, no one was home. At the fourth house, an elderly gentleman named Marvin Housby told Lake his wife, Greta, might know something, but she was in the bathtub with strict instructions to not disturb her. He grumbled something about "d.a.m.n new toys."

Lake froze midway down the Housby's driveway. Both Jackson's and Cage's garage doors opened. A truck with tinted windows pulled into Cage's garage. Jackson opened the door to the most offensive vehicle Lake had ever seen. Just as he started to get in, he zeroed in on Lake. She could feel his laser stare from across the street. However, the hunky guy getting out of his truck stole her attention, and so did the girl getting out of the pa.s.senger's side.

Jackson stalked toward her with a menacing scowl. His approach seemed to catch Cage's attention as he stood inside the garage looking at her. She considered fleeing for the Housby's front door again and begging Marvin to let her in to wait for Greta.

"Little Jones girl, what the h.e.l.l are you doing?" Jackson stood toe-to-toe with her, using his height advantage and deep voice to intimidate her. His freakishly defined muscles and tattoos did that all on their own. He didn't need to invade her s.p.a.ce too.

She gulped. "I'm seeing if anyone in the neighborhood went to the funeral."

Jackson looked over his shoulder at Cage still watching from his garage.

"He was there. I thought you and Luke talked to him earlier."

"Well, uh ... we did, but he's not ready to talk about it."

Jackson squinted a bit then nodded once. He seemed to be thinking something that he wasn't willing to share with "Little Jones girl."

"I think snooping around the neighborhood is a bad idea."

"Why?" She lifted her chin.

"Because it's not safe."

She looked around. "You live in a retirement community, in Omaha. I think I'll be fine."

He groaned or growled. It sounded much more like a growl, an angry animal growl. "Stubborn women. I can't handle any more of you in my life." He grabbed her arm. "Let's go."

"What? Wait!" She tried to keep up as he dragged her toward Cage. If there was truly a G.o.d, he'd keep her upright and not let her land on her face in front of her dream guy-whom just so happened to have a beautiful girl with two legs standing next to him.

"Young buck, here." He handed Lake off like a piece of property then dug into his jeans pocket. After he retrieved what looked like a couple hundred-dollar bills, he shoved them into Cage's coat pocket, ignoring his look of utter confusion. "I have to run a few errands. Don't let her out of your sight."

The blonde with bangs that kept falling in her face like a sheep dog, gawked at Jackson. If she was a girlfriend, she sure didn't hide her attraction to Mr. Watch After Little Jones Girl.

Cage's gaze shifted to Lake. "Are you on probation?" He grinned.

She could not have been more embarra.s.sed by the situation. If Jackson weren't so menacing, she would have thrown a full-blown conniption fit for being treated like a prisoner. But as she looked at the newly-a.s.signed warden, she couldn't find a good reason to protest.

"Apparently soliciting isn't allowed in this neighborhood. Mr. Knight has made a citizen's arrest." She glared at Jackson. "Your sister would not approve of your behavior." Looking back at Cage, she smiled. "Jillian likes me. We're sort of best friends."

He nodded, looking at Jackson.

"I'm out of here. Just ... watch her." Jackson shook his head and stalked back to his garage.

"Hi, I'm Lake. Prisoner for the night." She held her hand out to the girl.

"Emily." She shook Lake's hand.