Feeling him come up behind me, I tense when his hand rests against the small of my back. I want to go to my house and crawl into my own bed, but I know with him that option isn’t available. “Come on,” he mutters, leading me toward his car where he helps me in before shutting the door. Buckling up, I watch him walk around to the driver’s side then watch him lower his eyes to his feet, shaking his head before opening the door and sliding in behind the wheel. Starting up the car, without a word, he pulls out of the parking lot and heads toward home while I stare absently out the window.

“What the fuck is going on?” His voice pulls me from my head a few minutes later, and I notice a mass of news trucks and people gathered along the side of the road near the entrance to one of the parks I jog through on occasion.

Slowing, he merges into a line of cars that are all driving about five miles an hour. “I wonder what happened?” I mutter as a police officer directs the line of cars were in to move into the on coming traffic lane, past the group of news trucks.

“Maybe an accident,” he murmurs back, and I turn to look over my shoulder to see if I can see anything. There are no cars that have been in a collision, but just inside the park large floodlights are lit up around a blue tarp that is angled toward the road, with a van that is marked CSI parked off to the side with the side door open wide.

“I don’t think it was an accident.” I turn to face forward as a chill creeps down my spine, then feel his hand cover mine on my lap. “There was a crime scene van and a lot of police,” I say quietly while he laces our fingers together.

“The story will be on the news.” He gives my hand a squeeze and I nod, resting my hand over our locked fingers, hearing him inhale at my touch. “You know I love you, right?” he asks after a few quiet minutes, and my eyes slide closed.

“I know.”

“Don’t ever doubt that you are the most important thing to me.” I hear the sincerity in his tone and know deep in my gut that he’s speaking truthfully, but that still doesn’t put my mind at ease.

“She played you,” I state, gaining no response. He doesn’t see it or doesn’t want to, and there is obviously nothing I can say to make him. “I know you don’t think so, but it’s true,” I mutter as he turns onto our street, then turns again down the drive. As we get closer to the house I notice a black car parked in front near the fountain and I sit up, leaning closer to the windshield. “Whose car is that?”

“Don’t know.” He presses the button for the garage as we drive by the car, and I see that it’s empty.

“There was no one inside of it,” I point out, feeling unease run through me as he puts the car in park and shuts it off inside the garage.

“Stay here.”

“Stay here? I’m not going to stay here!” I yell at him as opens his door. “There could be a killer in the house, call the police.” I try to grab him, but he is already out of the car. “Dillon!” I shout, and he bends at the waist to look at me.

“Do you really think a killer would park out front of the house in plain sight?” Okay, that just sounded stupid, but I still don’t want him to go into the house alone. For all I know, Isla could be inside.

“I’m coming with you.” I unhook my belt and his eyes narrow on mine.

“No, you are going to stay put until I come back to get you.”

“Have you lost your mind? I’m not going to let you face a possible killer by yourself,” I growl, and he opens his mouth to say something, but a deep voice asks,

“Who’s a killer?” Screaming at the top of my lungs, a large guy with shaggy hair and a beard walks up behind Dillon, wrapping his arm around his shoulder.

“Jesus, Parker,” Dillon growls, and I look at the guy standing next to Dillon and feel my stomach twist when I realize the guy is not an ax murder, but Dillon’s brother, Parker. “What the fuck are you doing here, man?” Dillon asks, and his body turns toward his brother. Opening the door, I get out of the car and watch them over the roof, a little taken back by how much they look alike.

“Did you really think you could tell me you got married and I wouldn’t make time to come out and meet your wife?” Parker asks, tugging Dillon into a hug that rocks him back and forth roughly.

“Where are Cara and the kids?” Dillon asks him once he pulls away.

“Inside, wandering around the monstrosity you call a house,” he mutters dryly, and I giggle then freeze as two sets of blue eyes turn toward me.

“Baby, meet Parker. Parker, my wife, Ashlyn,” Dillon says, and his face softens as he speaks, making butterflies take flight in my stomach.

“She is pretty.” Parker smiles at me over the roof and I smile back.

“I know she’s pretty,” Dillon grumbles then palms the side of his head. “Stop staring at her.”

“I cant.” He grins, then heads around the back of the car toward me. As soon as he’s standing in front of me, his arms wrap around me and he forces me into his chest so tight that I cant breathe. “Nice to meet you Ashlyn.”

“You too.” My words come out muffled against his shirt and I pat his back, trying to make him understand that he’s cut off my supply of oxygen.

“She can’t breathe, idiot,” Dillon grumbles, tugging me from his brother and tucking me under his arm. I take a gulp of air as Parker’s eyes jump between the two of us with a thoughtful look on his face.