I flopped back onto the bed and kicked off my shoes. I pulled my legs up, curling into a ball as I clutched Luke's shirt to my chest, each deep inhale flooding my nostrils with his scent. Yeah, torture.

I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep until I woke up. I hadn't thought I'd be tired enough to get through the morning's insanity, but the clock said it was early afternoon, so I must've been. I sat up and winced, rubbing the sore muscles in my neck. I always carried my tension there, and I certainly had my share of that today.

I had a choice to make now, I knew. I could mope around and feel sorry for myself, probably end up crying off most of my makeup, or I could get off my ass and actually do something. The old Dani might've thrown herself into her schoolwork, but I had left school, abandoned my last semester right before final exams, so I didn't even have that. Hanna might've decided to go out, get drunk and get laid, a self-flagellating idea at best, though not the healthiest solution for an injured psyche. I needed a new approach. One with a little of the old me and a bit more of Hanna. A mutation, an evolution if you will; a new Dani with the best of both.

I stood up and looked out the window. The sun was shining and I could smell the salt of the ocean on the breeze that ruffled the sheer curtains hanging under an eternal waterfall of blue, rose print drapes. That's what I needed. A walk to clear my head. I went downstairs and left a note for Emma, telling her where I'd gone, and then headed for the beach.

As I dug my toes into the warm sand, I let the sun and fresh air revive me. It really was beautiful here. If I had to wait anyplace, at least it was somewhere with a beautiful view of the ocean and someone like Emma in my corner. Despite the emptiness I still felt in my heart, a wave of optimism washed over me and I knew I could do this. I would stay in Summerville and wait for Luke to come back so we could be together. With my new resolve firmly in place, I turned around and headed back to Emma's bed and breakfast to fill the following days with paint rollers, paint and brushes.

Chapter Four.

Luke The smell as I walked into the Ninth Street gym was invigorating. The stale, salty smell of sweat. The ointments used on aching joints and the powder used on the bags. And, under it all, the faint, but present, coppery smell of blood. This wasn't the kind of gym that the business class went to on their lunch breaks to run on a treadmill and maybe lift a couple weights. This was for people like me, ones who made our living from abusing our bodies and pushing them past the breaking point.

I'd forgotten how much I loved it.

I took another deep breath, the smell sending my mind back to the first time I'd realized this was what I wanted to do. My mom had put me into tae kwan do as a hyper eight-year-old because she couldn't take me tearing up the house. I loved the sport and learned quickly. By the time I was fourteen, I had risen to the level of black belt but was soon outgrowing my potential at the school. I needed more. I hadn't known where I wanted to go from that point when I was introduced to Lewis Franco, a master teacher of Brazilian jujitsu. Within the first session, he said I was a natural. The combative nature of it fit well with my personality. I could really use my aggression when grappling and other ground fighting techniques. It was in most aspects different from tae kwan do, but in less than a year, I had improved to a point where I was winning matches against guys who'd been doing it for years. The adrenaline rush, the attention, even the pain, all of it was addictive and now, being back, I was feeling every bit of it in my veins.

"Luke? Where the fuck have you been hiding?"

A woman's voice pulled me out of my past. My head swiveled to the right. I should've known Sherry. She was all smiles as she walked toward me, looking like the tight body builder and boxer that she always was. Before I hit the road to follow the trail of that missing money, she had been hitting the gym almost as much as me. And in typical Sherry style, she wore workout clothes that left very little to the imagination. She was more muscular than most women her size and had a set of implants that some men found attractive. The steroids had taken away her natural curves, so she'd resorted to plastic surgery to give them back to her. She was hot all, right, if you were into girls with six-packs and fake boobs.

I wasn't. I'd gone on one date with her a couple years ago, but only because I'd lost a bet to one of the other boxers. I wasn't too insecure or shallow to date a woman with muscles. I just didn't do the whole steroid thing, either personally or romantically. We'd known each other for five years and I considered us friends, but that was a line I wasn't going to cross, no matter how much she tried. At least she wasn't weird about it like some other women. Yeah, she wanted me and let me know it, but she never got bitchy when I turned her down.

She was now close enough I could answer without shouting, and I said, "Just been seeing the country, riding the open road on my Harley. Had to get out of the city for a while and clear my head." The lie sounded pathetic even to me. "But, I have another fight coming up and I need to get in shape."

Sherry gave me a coy smile and stepped closer. "Oh, baby, you don't need to see the country to clear your mind. I can do that any night of the week." She leaned forward and cupped my balls in her hand. "Come with me and I'll blow your mind."

I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her hand to the side, releasing my nuts from her grip. She had never been shy, I would admit that.

She laughed, and I changed the subject. "Have you seen Bruno?"

She raised her brow. "Okay, so it's like that. I can take a hint."

She gave me a once-over that said she was wondering what I looked like naked.

"No, I haven't seen Bruno. Maybe he's in the back." She shrugged. "Who knows? Go check for yourself, hot stuff."

As she walked away, she slapped my ass and laughed when I glared at her. Sometimes I wondered if she wanted to see how far she could go before I'd stop her. Right. I had business to take care of.

I headed for the office in the back, the heels of my riding boots crashing down on the bare cement floor of the gym. I was pissed. Bruno's jerking me around was wearing on my last nerve. I still didn't know where Lacey was and I needed answers, now. I was a few feet from the door when a steroid-induced wall of muscle stepped in front of me. He folded his massive arms, the size of my thighs, and inked with tattoos from wrist to shoulder across his chest, blocking my entrance. The man was easily three hundred pounds and a good six-and-a-half feet tall. Damn. He was definitely a new addition to Bruno's entourage.

"You Luke Romero?"

"What the fuck?" I didn't care how big the guy was. "Get out of my way."

"Mr. Costello wants a word with you."

Seriously? I clenched my fists as I reigned in my temper. Why the hell was Bruno giving me the run-around? "Where is he?"

"Follow me," the bodyguard said flatly. He'd perfected the blank face that the best in the business knew how to do.

I followed him outside where a black Lincoln town car was waiting. The bodyguard opened the back door and I climbed in. Bruno was sitting on the other side of the back seat, dressed in a dark suit with his fat stubby fingers wrapped around a cigar.

He studied me for a moment, then lit the cigar. "So, this is what it takes to get you back in the city?"

"Fuck you," I snarled. "Where's my daughter?"

Bruno laughed. "Don't get your panties in a bunch. She's with her mommy, safe and sound."

The knot in my chest eased a little, but the one in my stomach tightened.

"And, by the way, mommy is a nice piece of ass."

I scowled. I may not have been in love with Cindy, but I didn't want Bruno talking that way about her. "You piece of shit."

He flashed me that gloating grin of his and it took all of my self-control not to punch him right in those expensively-capped teeth. That would get me nowhere right now. "Haven't you heard? Your ex is my new girlfriend."

My knuckles turned white as I clenched my fists and I held them tightly to my sides. "You're dating Cindy to get back at me?" She could date whomever she wanted, but I still didn't want a prick like Bruno anywhere near her...or Lacey.

His smile vanished as he leaned across the seat. "Let's cut the bull here. I need you to do something and you don't have a choice."

"I figured that much; so, exactly what is it?"

He leaned back as if he owned my time and took a puff on his cigar. "Here's the thing. I have a new, upcoming fighter who's tearing everyone apart and you're going to fight him."

"Why me?" I had to admit, I was a little curious. For Bruno to have gone to all this trouble, he had to have a reason.

"You're the undefeated champion in the underground league. A fight between you two would bring in a lot of money."

I frowned. "And I suppose you want me to take a fall for this one too, right?"

Bruno laughed, and a new knot formed in my stomach. This was definitely not good.

"No, this time let's have a real fight. You haven't seen my new kid yet. He's a monster. You'll go down in one blow, crying for your mommy."

Like hell I will. I nodded. "Okay. I do this and you're going to leave Cindy and my daughter alone? And you'll get the hell out of my life?"

"Oh, and have my name taken off your Christmas card list? I'm hurt, Luke." Bruno's sarcasm grated on my nerves, then his tone changed to something more serious. "Of course. You've got my word."

I glanced out the window. We were close to Times Square.

"Who's the new kid? How good is he?" I doubted Bruno would give a straight answer, but I had to ask.

Bruno chuckled. "You'll find out when you meet him in the ring." He leaned forward and tapped on the window separating the back seat from the front, using the middle finger of the hand that still held the fat cigar. As the car pulled over he turned to me and said, "Here's your destination." He took a drag off the cigar and, staring up at the smoke, he exhaled. "Get the fuck out of my car."

We were nowhere near where I wanted to be, but I knew not to argue. This man had no compassion. He had no soul. When Bruno was done with you, he left you wherever he wanted to, in whatever condition you happened to be, and if you argued, he'd send you to the morgue. Eventually.

Chapter Five.

Dani The days ticked by without Luke. I woke up, ate breakfast, painted, ran to the hardware store, painted some more, and did whatever fixing up that was needed until dinner. I would sit with Emma and Michelle for a couple hours, playing games or watching television until I finally excused myself to flop into bed and fall asleep. Even lunch was an eat-what-you-can-standing-up affair. Emma wanted the place to be ready soon and that meant working our asses off. Not that I minded. Anything to keep my mind off of the persistent ache in my heart.

That space of time right before I fell asleep was the hardest. That is when thoughts of Luke would return and my heart would ache with missing him all over again. I'd lay in bed, curled on my side, imagining Luke's arms around me. The first two nights, it had hurt so much that I'd cried until I finally fell asleep. Last night, however, I'd managed to stave off the tears. Now, I was trying to stop myself from thinking about what Luke might be doing by wrestling an uncooperative and unattractive floral bedspread onto a double mattress. The mattress was winning.

I was on the second floor when I heard the house phone ring. I heard Emma answer it, though her voice was muffled. A moment later, I heard her coming up the stairs and I froze, as a wild hope leapt up inside me. Luke.

I immediately told myself that was stupid. If he didn't want to use a burner phone, he definitely wasn't going to call here directly.

"Hanna," Emma said as she came into the room. "The police are on the phone for you."

My blood ran cold. They'd found out. They knew my real name and that I was wanted in New York in connection with stolen money, and maybe even the death of that hooker. Or, worse, it was Luke. Something bad had happened to him.

All of these thoughts swirled through my head in just a few seconds before I realized that neither of those things was a possibility. If they knew my true identity, they wouldn't call on the phone. They'd just show up and arrest me. And if something had happened to Luke in New York, no one would make a connection between him and the name John Conners. He was only known as John in Summerville.

I forced a shaky smile as I followed Emma downstairs to the phone.

"Hello?" At least my voice was steady.

"Ms. Carrington, this is Officer Carson."

"Yes, sir?" I hoped I sounded like any normal citizen talking to the cops on the phone.

"We need a statement from you regarding the incident at the cabin with Brian Radcliff."

My stomach flipped. Brian. Emma's ex. He was an alcoholic, abusive asshole on his best day, but he'd gone beyond that when he'd kidnapped Michelle and taken her to a cabin in the woods. Luke and I had gone with Emma to get Michelle back, thinking we'd need his muscle, but it had been Emma, armed with a hammer, who'd actually knocked Brian out. He'd been in jail since then, and for all I cared, he could rot there, but we'd been waiting to hear what the next step would be and now the answer had finally come.

"Emma already gave you a statement, didn't she?" I asked. I didn't think the question came out sounding like honest curiosity, but when Officer Carson answered, he didn't sound suspicious.

"We need a corroborating statement, preferably from someone who isn't connected to Radcliff. Would you be able to come down to the station today? It would be appreciated."

I took a slow, deep breath. My cover wasn't blown after all and this call was not about Luke, so I decided to do the right thing. "I'll be in this afternoon."

"Thank you."

He hung up before I could respond, but I stayed with the phone at my ear for a moment longer, wanting to make sure I was composed before I faced Emma.

I'd tried to avoid the police during my time in Summerville, for obvious reasons. I hadn't even filed a complaint when Brian had assaulted me before the kidnapping incident. A wave of guilty remorse washed over me as I wondered if the whole Michelle thing could've been avoided if I'd just had the guts to do what was right the first time. Then again, I reasoned, if I'd done the right thing in the first place, I never would've taken that money and I wouldn't be in Summerville right now. Instead, I'd be working my shitty job, trying to study for finals and worrying over what was going to happen to my grandma.

I fixed a bright smile on my face, hung up the phone and turned toward an expectant Emma.

"What was that all about?" she asked, looking almost as worried as I felt.

"The police want me to come in and give my statement about what happened with Brian," I said. I glanced at the clock on the wall. "I'm going to go get washed up, grab a quick bite to eat and then head over to the police station."

Emma nodded, her face tight. I didn't blame her. After all the abuse Brian had heaped on her, taking Michelle had been the final straw. I reached out and gave her hand a squeeze before heading upstairs to get in the shower. I wasn't really hungry, but I needed the time to plan out what I would say if the questions became too personal. They shouldn't, since my statement was supposed to be about Brian and what he'd done to Michelle and Emma, but I wasn't going to take any chances. The fact that I'd used my real last name with my alias first name was proof that I didn't improvise well. I couldn't risk saying something equally as stupid in a room full of cops.

Officer Carson was a serious man who looked to be in his mid-forties, with dark hair and a forehead full of worry lines, the type that come from years of furrowing your brow. His face was blank, showing neither approval nor disapproval of my jeans and t-shirt. I'd purposely picked ones that didn't have holes or stains, but now that I saw his intimidating face, I wondered if I should've worn a dress instead. Hanna would've. She would've flashed a bit of leg, maybe played up the cleavage, all to see if she could get Carson to crack a smile.

Without a word, the officer motioned for me to sit down in the chair across from his desk. He didn't bother to stand upon my entry; just started typing on his computer. I wasn't clear if his rudeness was intentional or if there was something else on his mind. I decided to assume the best and waited patiently for the clicking keyboard to become silent. Finally, he looked up at me. "When was the first time you met Brian Radcliff?"

I was a bit taken aback that he hadn't started with a greeting, but I answered his question without commenting on it. "I was at The Bar, having a drink, and accidentally spilled my beer on him. He got...suggestive, then rude when I tried to walk away. He was pretty aggressive towards me and I was afraid of he might do if I kept refusing his advances, but then John came and helped me out."

"And John..." The officer looked at his file. "John Conners. Isn't he your boyfriend?"

Boyfriend? The term made me blink. Where had Carson heard that? Luke and I hadn't used that exact word before, but... "Well, yes, sort of." My face flushed pink with heat.

"How long had you known John at that point?"

"A day."

There was a pause in the scratching of Carson's pen on his notepad. He looked up and raised his eyebrows. "A day." He didn't even try to hide the nasty, judgmental tone in his voice.

I fought back the urge to defend myself. I wasn't one of those girls. It wasn't like I jumped off the bus and fell straight into Luke's bed. Okay, so things escalated pretty fast with us, but that wasn't anyone's business but ours.

"John was the one who disarmed Mr. Radcliff at the cabin?" The officer continued on with his questions.

I shook my head. "No, that was Emma. She hit Brian with a hammer when he was about to shoot us. He had his gun pointed at John and said he was going to shoot, and that's when Emma hit him from behind. She saved John's life, probably both of our lives."

Carson studied my face carefully. "And you're absolutely sure Mr. Radcliff had a gun in his hand?"

I bit the inside of my mouth to keep from scowling. Why would I lie about something like that? "Absolutely sure." My voice was firm.

He was silent for a moment, then asked, "Where were you when all this happened?"

"I was by the window."

His pen scratched on the paper again. "Was the cabin dark or well-lit?"

I frowned. I didn't like where this line of questioning was going, but I answered honestly. "Well, it was sort of dark."

"Dark?" Carson repeated. "So maybe Mr. Radcliff didn't have a gun in his hand, after all."

"He did," I insisted.

"If it was dark, how can you be certain?" he countered.

"Because I heard the sound of a gun dropping after Emma hit him." My voice grew louder, but I didn't try to stop it. "I swear on my grandmother's life."