Barefoot by the Sea

can get your kids in Canada.” She said the last three words like they were so utterly agonizing that she couldn’t even let them out of her mouth.

He didn’t answer.

“Do I understand enough?”

Actually, she did. “But you don’t know why.”

She let out a soft moan, as if she’d been hoping all that she’d heard was a misunderstanding.

“Okay, why?”

He watched the doorknob, hoping it would move. No such luck.

“I can’t tell you why until I elicit a promise from you.”

Silence.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“Oh no, you don’t!” She was close to the door now, inches away. “Don’t you dare tell me I can or cannot do anything.”

He closed his eyes and bowed his head in resignation, exhaling before speaking. “Tess, unless you want me, two innocent children, and possibly yourself to end up dead, you have to make and keep that promise.”

After a long pause, the knob turned. Inch by inch, the door opened, revealing her swollen eyes and blotchy face and a ragged robe around her. She looked down at him, and very slowly dropped to the floor to meet him face-to-face.

“Dead?” She barely whispered the question, her lips quivering as she spoke.

“Dead.”

“Has everything been a lie?”

Pain twisted his throat. “Not everything,” he said. “I’ve said plenty that was honest.” He reached for her splotchy face. “Starting with…how pretty you are.”

She jerked away, spearing him with a look.

“And how much I like you.”

One eyebrow rose slightly, pure doubt and disgust in her expression.

“And nothing that happened in that bedroom a few hours ago was a lie.”

“Sex?”she spat. “You’re going to talk about sex now?” She narrowed her eyes and leaned one inch closer. “Don’t…Ian.”

He sniffed a quick breath of shock, the name sounding so strange coming from anyone but Henry. No one had called him Ian for years. It felt—so good.

“I’m going to tell you everything.”

She still looked hard at him, her bottle-brown eyes sparking with distrust. “Your version of everything.”

“The only version of everything,” he said simply. “The whole truth. But I do have to make the stipulation of complete secrecy.”

She merely stared at him.

“You can’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” he insisted. “I mean anyone, Tessa. It is truly a matter of life and death.”

Her expression softened. “Are you a spy?”

“Not James Bond, I hate to break it to you.”

“Then what…who are you?”

He reached for her hand, but she pulled it back, pressing her fists to her chest protectively. “Answer me,” she insisted softly.

He turned away for a second, looking down at the phone that had betrayed him. No, he was grateful Henry had called. He’d wanted to tell her, and he considered starting his story with that truth, but she’d never believe him.

“John, or…” She sighed. “Whatever. Please. What is your real name?”

Once more, he gave her a pleading look. “You can’t tell Lacey or Zoe or Jocelyn.”

“I can’t make that promise and you”—she pointed in his face—“are in no position to ask me to do anything except listen. And I may or may not do that.”

He ignored the threat, too focused on what he had to hear her say. “You have to promise me, Tessa. I won’t tell you until you do.”

“I can’t keep a secret from my friends.”

“You can’t? Two words: your mother.”

Her eyes widened at the shot. “You’re going to throw things that I shared back in my face, John? Now?”

“I’m going to make you understand, which you will when I tell you, that you must give me your word of honor that you will not, under any circumstances, share this with another person. When you know everything, you’ll—”

“Everything like your name, country of origin, job, or…or…” Her eyes misted. “Or why in God’s name you’d want me to marry you?”

“Because—”

“I’m the first person you found and you needed someone to marry you, quick.”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “At first, that was my thinking. But everything changed.”

“When?”

“Last night.”

She coughed a sharp laugh. “Convenient.”

He reached for her. “Tessa, make the promise.”

She didn’t say a word or stop staring at him, hurt and distrust darkening her eyes.

“If you don’t,” he whispered, “the lives of my two children are at stake. They’re only three-and-a-half years old.”

“Two,” she murmured. “That’s what you meant when you said you wanted two. And you didn’t say ‘kids’ were important, you said your kids were important.”

He swallowed and nodded. “They are. They’re everything to me. And if I ever want to see them again and raise them myself, it seems I need a wife.”

Nothing had prepared her for this. Not the bizarre statement of fact, which was both incomprehensible and far too clear, but the look on his face. That was the look she’d been seeing, thinking she’d imagined it. An anguish so profound and real it physically hurt to look at it.

Defeat crushed Tessa like a landslide, burying all her fury and regret and heartache, suffocating her desire to run and tell everyone exactly what she’d learned today.

“All right,” she managed to say. “I promise.”

“You won’t tell your friends.”

“I will not tell my friends.”

He studied her hard, gauging her promise, still wary enough that she knew he hadn’t quite accepted it. So she reached out a hand and closed it over his. “I give you my word.”

He nodded, satisfied. Then took a shallow inhale and said, “My name is Ian Browning.” Then he held up a hand as if to correct that. “My name is Ian Browning,” he repeated, this time with a thick, soft English accent.

“From…”

“London. But I haven’t lived there, or spoken with my native accent, for years, so I’ll stick to what you’re familiar with.” He hesitated again.

“What are you doing here?” Besides stealing hearts and sanity, she almost added, but there was no room for humor in this quiet hallway. Only honesty.

“I’m in the United Kingdom’s version of your witness protection program.”

She felt her jaw loosen. “Why?”

“I witnessed a murder. Well, I witnessed the murderer leaving the scene of the crime and identified him, leading to his imprisonment. Ever since then, one of the deadliest, most feared gangs in London, known as the N1L—which stands for No One Lives, if you’re curious—has had a hefty price on my head.”

Her own head swam, still trying to process this. “And your kids?”