Hesitantly, she retrieved the paper, unfolded it with Armie and Cannon looking over her shoulder, and sure enough, the pa.s.s code was written in her grandfather's bold script.

Just then, the ringing of Armie's cell phone broke the silence. It startled her enough that Yvette nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Sorry," Armie said and retrieved the phone from his pocket. He answered without checking the caller ID, saying, "h.e.l.lo?" while watching Cannon unhook the key. "Yeah, this is Armie Jacobson. What can I do for you?"

Whoever greeted him sent his brows climbing high. "Matter of fact, you're in luck, because he's right here." He held out the phone to Cannon. "For you. The dips.h.i.t ex."

In counterpart to Armie, Cannon's brows came down in a dark scowl. "How the h.e.l.l does he have your number?"

"He called the rec center looking for you, and they put him through to me."

Yvette grabbed his wrist before he could take the phone. She put it on speaker and then handed it to him.

Cannon accepted it, saying with a mean inflection, "Heath. How the h.e.l.l are you?"

Yvette slowly sank down to sit on the side of the bed.

Still holding the key, Cannon joined her on one side.

Armie sat on the other.

Though her return to Ohio had been filled with turmoil, in that moment she felt such amazing peace. She had so much more than many people ever hoped to get from life. She had a home. She had amazing friends. She'd been loved by her grandfather.

And at least for now, she had Cannon.

Leaning into Armie, she gave him a quick hug. He faltered, then shoulder b.u.mped her in a comfortable way.

Sighing, she settled up against Cannon. He put his arm around her, pulling her closer still.

After what felt like forever, Heath said, "My f.u.c.king arm was broke," and he sounded like a petulant boy.

Sandwiched between such awesome men-men of honor and character-how could she help but pity Heath?

Cannon's smile widened. "Not broke, pal. I just dislocated your shoulder."

"Same thing."

"I'm guessing you've never had a broken bone, right? But hey, come on back around and I can show you the difference."

Through strained breathing, Heath said, "I want to talk to Yvette."

"No. Anything else?"

"Someone broke into the house where she's staying."

Her heart jumping into a gallop, Yvette jerked. Cannon squeezed her to keep her quiet.

As if it didn't matter, he asked, "What do you know of that?"

"I know it wasn't me."

Though he'd just come to the same conclusion, Cannon shrugged. "It fits your chickens.h.i.t M.O."

"But it wasn't."

"How do you even know where she's staying?"

More breathing. "Soon as I got to town I made it my business to know everything about her." He blurted, "To protect her!"

"From who? You're the one bothering her."

"Obviously I'm not the only one!"

Not the only one-so did that mean Heath would admit he was a problem?

Cannon had his arm hugged around her, his hand at her waist. And now Armie patted her knee.

Did they both think she needed to be cautioned again to be silent?

She let out a slow breath and smiled to let them know she wasn't an idiot.

"Who else is there, Heath?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm warning you."

"Warning me?"

"Letting you know, so you can keep her safe!" In a bid to reclaim his temper, he sucked in air, once, twice. "I went by the house just to...check on her."

"Uh-huh."

G.o.d, they'd have to let Margaret know. Or maybe she even needed to stay elsewhere for a while.

"Why would I break in?" Heath challenged. And then, voice raised, "I want Yvette, her, flesh and blood. Not her stuff."

Cannon pushed to his feet, muscles all along his arms and shoulders now knotted tight. "Come near her again," he stated in a deadly whisper, "and I'll do more than jack up your f.u.c.king arm."

The silence stretched out until Yvette thought Heath had hung up.

Cannon, apparently, didn't. "I've reset my own shoulder a few times, Heath. Did you manage it?"

"No, a.s.shole. But I found someone who could."

"Yeah? Did you cry?"

"f.u.c.k you." More evenly now, Heath said, "I'm not the one who broke in. Now, will you protect her or not?"

"d.a.m.n straight."

"Good. Then I'll go home. Just...just tell her for me. Tell her that I love her. That I'm sorry. Will you do that?"

Apparently Heath had used up Cannon's goodwill. "I'll tell her you're out of her life for good. How's that?"

Heath screamed, a primal sound of savage frustration that made Yvette tremble and had Armie rearing back.

And then he hung up.

"Holy s.h.i.t," Armie breathed. "That dude is seriously unhinged."

Dazed, Yvette stood and went to Cannon. He kept his back to her, his shoulders rigid, his big hands squeezed into fists.

Unsure of his mood, she touched his upper arm.

As if that had unleashed him, he pulled her around in front of him, tangled a hand in her hair, and drew her up for a hot, hard, heart-stopping kiss. Almost as soon as he started, he gentled, his hand ma.s.saging her scalp.

She understood. Heath had been near the house. He'd watched her, maybe followed her. It made her ill to think about it.

So they needed to think about something else.

Cupping Cannon's face, she eased away. "Let's go open that safe."

a gun, nothing fancy or unusual, just a .38 Smith & Wesson revolver stored inside a padded case. The big question, Cannon knew, was why Tipton had it put away so securely.

Before opening the case, he'd carried it to the kitchen table. Now they all sat around it, cautious, curious.

He thought of the note Tipton had left him. Selling will require emptying the house-and that will bring about different problems for her.

Was this the problem Tipton meant?

"Grandpa never took guns at the p.a.w.nshop." Beside him, Yvette shifted. "Do you think he had it locked up because it was used for a crime?"

"That's as good a guess as any." He wanted to check it, see if it was loaded, but on the off chance it had fingerprints on it... The grip was black, the barrel polished. It looked new, not ominous.

No one touched it, just in case.

Armie straddled a chair. "Think we should go see Mindi?"

"I think," Cannon said, "we need to call Logan and Margaret."

From the kitchen doorway, a voice intruded. "That's not necessary."

As one, they turned to see Frank Whitaker standing at attention. Unlike at his office, he had razor-sharp focus now-and a 9 mm Glock. Cannon could see the magazine, and had no doubt it was fully loaded.

As he eased Yvette behind him, he asked, "How'd you get in?"

Whitaker held up a key in his left hand. "Made a copy." In his right hand, he kept the Glock steady. "No need to see Mindi. She's gone."

"Gone where?" Armie asked, taking a step away from Cannon.

"No, don't move." The gun swung back and forth, encompa.s.sing them all. After pocketing the key, Frank used his forearm to wipe sweat off his brow. "I don't want to hurt anyone, so please don't force me to do it."

Staying in the door frame, out of reach, gun hand extended, not all that relaxed, Whitaker indicated the table. "Take a seat. All of you."

Cannon pulled out a chair for Yvette-behind him. "What do you want?"

"The case, first of all. Mindi was sure you had it, and she wouldn't leave well enough alone. I told her it wouldn't matter. I begged her to leave it be. But she wouldn't stop... ."

"You didn't hurt her, did you, Whitaker?"

"Hurt Mindi? No, of course not. I love her."

Cannon felt Yvette's hand on his back, rea.s.surance that she was still okay. With everything she'd gone through, no one would blame her if she fell apart right now.

But she didn't. She stayed calm, stroked his shoulder, and he was so d.a.m.ned proud of her.

As long as she stayed safe, tucked behind him, he could handle anything else. "Where is she?"

"She left me."

"Was she ever really with you?" Armie looked him over, from his balding head to his expanding middle. "Dude, seriously?"

"She loved me!"

"That what she told you?"

d.a.m.n it, Cannon knew exactly what Armie was doing. Drawing the fire.

Sacrificing himself, if it came to that.

Reclaiming Whitaker's attention, Cannon said, "I knew something was going on between you two."

"Of course you didn't. Mindi told me she was getting closer to you-as a way to locate the gun, of course."

"Doesn't matter," Cannon insisted. "I still knew. I'm guessing anyone who was ever around you two knew it."

"How?" Desperate for a crumb, Whitaker stepped closer. "How did you know?"

"The way she looked at you. It was more familiar than an a.s.sistant to a boss."

Softening, Whitaker smiled.

"What's that got to do with any of us?" Armie asked. "It has nothing to do with you." He addressed Cannon. "But you...you didn't sell everything as you should have." He leaned to the side so he could see Yvette. "And you. I thought for sure you'd head back to California. So many times Tipton wanted you to stay, he told me so, but you never did. And now that he's gone, now you decide to settle in?"

"We'll all leave," Cannon offered. "You know I have a house in Kentucky. I was going to ask Yvette to join me there."

Yvette's hand stilled against him.

"I wish that was true." Slowly, Frank shook his head. "But she's reopening the p.a.w.nshop, proof that she plans to stay. I knew eventually she'd find the gun. Don't you see, I can't risk having it discovered."