“Let me go!” She shouted as loudly as she could, but the words came out like a weak croak. “Help! Police! Help me!”
“Olivia, please be quiet. We need to get out of here and pick up your son before this guy regains consciousness.”
The stranger’s use of her first name pulled her up short. She twisted out of his grasp and stared at his face, but he didn’t look familiar. She noted he was dressed from head to toe in black, making it easy for him to blend into the night. Then her gaze dropped to the body of a man lying on the ground, also dressed in black, apparently unconscious. The silver glint of a knife blade lying on the asphalt beside him caught her eye, making her swallow hard.
What was going on? Who were these men?
“Olivia, I’m not with the Blake-Moore Group,” the stranger continued in a tone she was sure he meant to be reassuring. “I’m here to keep you and your son safe.”
He knew about the Blake-Moore Group? And her son? Had he known her late husband, too? Questions flashed through her mind like laser beams, but she managed to pull out of his grasp, hitching her bag more securely over her shoulder then clutching the edges of her long blouse together like a shield over her belly.
She tucked a chin-length strand of dark hair behind her ear and bravely faced him. “I don’t know who you are, but I’m fine on my own.”
“You were fine on your own, until now,” the stranger agreed. The fact that he didn’t try to strong-arm her was confusing. She rubbed her hand over her belly, hoping he wouldn’t notice her nervous gesture. “But there are likely others on the way. We need to leave immediately. We’re running out of time.”
She instinctively shook her head, not wanting to go, yet deep down she knew he was right. She and Aaron couldn’t stay in Harrisburg any longer. Oddly enough, while they’d only been here for a little over two months, it already had begun to feel like home. Regret swelled in the back of her throat and it was all she could do to keep from bursting into tears.
Stupid hormones.
“My name is Ryker Tillman.” In the darkness she couldn’t see the stranger’s facial features clearly, but noted he was taller than Tim had been, with broad shoulders and short dark hair. He cupped a hand beneath her elbow. “Come on—we need to hurry.”
The name didn’t mean anything to her and frankly she wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. Ryker knew about the Blake-Moore Group, but claimed he wasn’t one of them. But he hadn’t said he was a cop, either.
Not that hearing he was a cop would have helped her relax. She’d trusted a cop once, but when he’d called the Blake-Moore Group, instead of backup, she’d realized he was in with them. Thankfully, she’d gotten away in time, and gone back on the run.
Nope, she wasn’t doing that again.
“I don’t know you and I don’t trust you.” She forced the words past her constricted throat. “Please leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that. They’re obviously coming for you.” Ryker urged her forward. “That guy was only the first. There will be more. Your son’s nanny is this way, correct?”
Wait, he knew where Willa Bentley lived? Where she and Aaron lived? As much as she wanted to pull out of his grasp, she knew there was no possible way she could outrun him. For a moment she glanced back at the man lying on the sidewalk.
The assailant had threatened to kill her. Ryker Tillman claimed he wanted to protect her.
Why? What was this all about? She didn’t know who or what to believe.
When she could see Willa’s duplex up ahead, she began to doubt the wisdom of going along with this stranger. “You knew my husband, then? Timothy Habush?”
There was a momentary hesitation before Ryker spoke. “No, not personally. I knew of him, as we both served in Afghanistan. But he joined the Blake-Moore Group when we returned stateside while I decided to go in another direction.”
To hear Ryker was former military wasn’t surprising, and far from reassuring. She didn’t want to be associated with another soldier. Her husband had once served with honor, but after his last tour of duty had ended, he’d decided to work for the Blake-Moore Group. After the first year, she’d known it was a mistake. The missions Tim had talked about were motivated by greed, not by doing what was right. When she’d overheard something about selling guns to the enemy, she’d felt sick at the realization Tim had sold out his country.
He’d sold out her, too. He’d been more interested in making money than having a family.
It had happened gradually, not all in one fell swoop. But one day, about a month before his death, she’d looked into his eyes and had seen nothing but a dull, flat emptiness.
His cold, dead eyes had scared her in a way nothing else ever had. Even now, the memory made her shiver.
She glanced up at the man at her side. It was too dark to see Ryker Tillman’s eyes. Did they look the same way? Had being in combat changed him, the way it seemed to have changed her husband?
Tim was dead and so was her brother, Colin. It was all so surreal, especially when Colin had dragged her and Aaron out of the house during breakfast shortly before Christmas, insisting Tim wanted them to go into hiding. But it wasn’t until she realized she and Aaron were locked in a small motel room that she understood they were being held prisoner under the guise of being safe.
Upon hearing the news that Tim was dead, she’d
