Wishing he had on his sneakers rather than his dress shoes, Spencer had broken into a dead run. He’d kept a careful eye out for cracked paving slabs, leaping over the buckled concrete. The last thing he needed was to fall. He’d had a bad feeling that seconds mattered.
His niece’s message had screamed in his head as he ran, and by the time he reached the mansion’s front step, adrenaline was surging through his veins. His heart thudded louder and louder as he pounded on the door and rang the bell. All the while, hundreds of possible scenarios raced through his mind, none of them reassuring.
Several long minutes went by, and when no one answered, Spencer tried the knob. Finding the dead bolt engaged, he resumed hammering on the heavy oak door. Given enough time, and the right tools, he could get almost any lock open, but he didn’t have either.
With every thump of his hand against the wood, Spencer grew more and more agitated. Deciding to try around the rear of the mansion before resorting to plan B—break a window to get inside—he stepped off the porch.
As Spencer started down the sidewalk, Ivy rushed out of the house and shouted, “Uncle Spence!” He turned toward her and she ran to him, flinging her arms around his neck. “This man forced his way in here and he turned out to be a city cop, but he was really mean and Regina Bourne is dead and Dani and I are suspects.”
Spencer patted his niece’s shoulder as he sorted through her run-on sentence. Any way you looked at it, what she’d said was bad news.
Ivy finally stopped for a breath and Spencer asked, “Is the officer gone now?”
“Yes.” Ivy’s head went up and down as if it were on a spring. “He tried to make us confess, but Dani said if he had enough evidence to arrest us he should do it. Then he got really mad and I thought he was going to hit her, but when you showed up, he went out the back.”
“Funny that I didn’t see him come down the driveway.” Spencer’s stomach knotted. “And there wasn’t a police vehicle parked anywhere in sight. I would have noticed even an unmarked cruiser.”
“He must have left his car on another block and walked through the neighbors’ yards.” Ivy clutched Spencer’s hand. “But why would he do that?”
“Good question.” Spencer’s neck muscles tensed. Something wasn’t right.
As Ivy led him into the house, she related the rest of their encounter with Detective Mikeloff. Spencer grew angrier and more concerned with each word. A cold sweat glued his dress shirt to his back. Mikeloff sounded like the worst kind of cop. One with no respect for the rules and totally out of control.
Entering the kitchen, Spencer spotted Ivy’s pals Tippi and Starr sitting at the table. Both were staring off into space. Tippi’s normally fair skin was ghostly white and Starr’s darker complexion had a definite gray tinge to it. They were as shaken as his niece. What in the hell had the detective done to scare them so badly?
He inhaled sharply and his senses were flooded with the yeasty scent of homemade bread. For some reason the cozy aroma made him even more upset. Fuming, Spencer looked around. Where was Danielle Sloan? She was supposed to be keeping these girls safe, but they’d been threatened while under her care.
Okay. That wasn’t fair. From what Ivy had told him, he knew that none of what had happened was the Sloan woman’s fault, but his gut hadn’t gotten the message. Maybe it was for the best that he had a few minutes to calm down before talking to her. He didn’t want to scare her.
Ivy tugged him to an empty chair and said, “Have a seat. Dani will be down in a minute.” When he raised a questioning brow, Ivy explained, “Once I looked out the window and saw that it was you on the porch, I told Dani it was okay to go upstairs to change. That awful man broke a huge bottle of expensive vanilla and it splattered all over her shirt.”
That explained the second wonderful smell in the air. Spencer allowed the memory of his mother’s amazing baking to soothe him. She’d had warm-from-the-oven treats waiting for him every single day after school. One of the worst parts about his undercover assignment had been being unable to see his parents for months on end.
He hadn’t realized how much he missed his family until he’d met Wally Boyd. The Scumble River police chief had been kidnapped by the motorcycle gang that Spencer had infiltrated. Hearing the man talk about his pregnant wife, Skye, and seeing the love between them had been the final nudge in Spencer’s decision to quit his job and never go undercover again.
Spencer was still smiling from the memory when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to greet his niece’s landlady, but when his gaze locked onto the warm, caramel eyes looking back at him, all thoughts of Wally and Skye fled and a sizzle shot up his spine.
Ivy hadn’t mentioned that her friend was so pretty. Maybe some idiots wouldn’t consider her appealing, but Spencer thought she was stunning. The naturalness of her beauty was like a cold glass of water after being forced to drink nothing but artificially flavored soda his whole life.
The years of fake boobs, bleached-blond hair, and heavy makeup on the women who hung around the motorcycle gang made him appreciate Dani’s genuineness. And as she stared at him, Spencer felt a spark jump between them. Tearing his gaze away, he called on every bit of his training to keep what he was feeling off his face. Instead, he shrouded himself in his cop persona and kept his reaction under wraps.
Danielle Sloan wasn’t at all what he’d pictured. Her dark-blond curls bounced as she moved and her creamy skin had turned an adorable pink on her rounded cheeks. She wore
