Xander grinned. “I knew it! One look at you and—”

“But it’s not that simple, Xander. I’m just a fling for her.” And didn’t that suck? “Rachel thinks I’ll be gone in a few days, tops. I doubt she’ll miss me when I’ve gone. She’s only been divorced about fourteen months. She may not be ready to hear that I’m . . . falling in love.”

“She has feelings for you. It’s all over her face.”

“And when she finds out I lied to her about almost everything?”

“She’ll forgive you.” Xander clapped him on the back. “Dude, you’re trying to save her life and preserve her peace of mind.”

Yes, but would she believe that he’d wanted her for her and not just because he’d been playing the hero or fulfilling a responsibility?

“If I haven’t solved this by Tuesday night, I’m going to have to tell her that someone wants her dead, that I picked her up for a reason . . . everything. I don’t want to scare her, but I need to come clean with her. I’d just rather do it once I know she’s safe.” He blew out a ragged breath. “I don’t want to lose her.”

“Sounds smart. Who are your other suspects? What’s your plan?”

“Some ideas have been brewing in the back of my head. I need to look into her neighbors and friends, just to make sure there’s no one I should zoom in on. Her ex might not have been the one to hire me, but my gut tells me the whole damn mess has something to do with him. I’ve just got to prove it.”

“Can I help?”

“Occupy Rachel for a few minutes and let me borrow a laptop.”

“Sure. I’ll shut you up in my office at the back of the house for a bit.”

Decker lifted his duffel, nerves biting his belly. “Perfect.”

Xander shut him into the room lined with bookshelves. A sleek laptop sat in the middle of the leather-topped monstrosity. He tried not to think that the guy had probably done the nasty with his wife here more than once and focus on his task.

A few clicks of his computer later proved that her friend Shonda had neither the money nor the motive to want Rachel dead. The woman had four hundred dollars in checking, and her rent was past due. Shonda never had so much as a parking ticket, and she’d been named teacher of the year at Magnolia Elementary last year. Saturday at noon, she’d been working on a Habitat for Humanity project about forty miles away. And the woman’s brother was still in the hospital. Decker scratched her off the list of suspects.

He looked into her neighbors. The house next door to her on the east had actually been vacant for the last six weeks. On the other side lived Brian Boone, a man who traveled for a living. His girlfriend either lived there or took care of the place while he was gone because she always signed for his deliveries. According to Brian’s credit card statement, he’d just dropped a hefty sum at a jewelry store Friday afternoon, then sprung for a fancy French dinner last night. Twenty bucks said the guy was engaged now. Happy people didn’t usually solicit murder, especially in the middle of popping the question. Decker removed him from the list, too.

A quick scan of all the occupants on her street and the rest of her coworkers didn’t turn up a single red flag. And this wasn’t some random psycho killer. They usually wanted to do their own dirty work just for the thrill.

So he came back to Owen. Her ex seemed like the sort of guy who didn’t want to get his hands dirty. If he was so worried about repairing his relationship, why would he bother with Rachel? Did it have something to do with that expired marriage license?

That was it. He needed to talk to Owen, man to professor, and find out what the hell was going on. While he was at it, he should meet Carly, too. Men were far more likely to murder than women, but hiring the work out was definitely a female’s style. She might consider an assassin something like a life adjustment handyman.

But in order to talk to the struggling lovebirds, he would have to leave Rachel. Damn it.

With a sigh, he cleared the computer’s cache, shut the lid, and picked up the duffel. A rough plan formed in his head. He’d no more stepped into the living room when the group shot his plan to hell.

“I’d like that,” Decker heard Rachel say. “Tomorrow would be great.”

“You’ll like my friend Delaney. She’s really kind. Just slap me if we get too deep into the baby talk. She’s been through this twice, and I’m still trying to figure out what’s going on with my body.”

“Tomorrow for what?” Decker barked.

Rachel welcomed him back with a smile. “London asked me to meet her and her friend for lunch.”

He didn’t like it, but to balk might make him look controlling. Or force him to explain now. Decker took a deep breath. Rachel would be with two other women in a public place. As far as the guy who wanted her dead indicated, the job didn’t have to be complete until probably the day after tomorrow. A little breathing room. Decker vowed to take precautions and do everything possible to keep her safe.

He forced a smile. “That’s awesome. I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”

But the outing bugged the hell out of him over their early dinner. His fear for her caused him to reach for her three times during the night to make love to her, each time successively more possessive than the last. While she slept, he swiped her iCloud password and downloaded an app that allowed him to track her phone. Anxiety made him pull her into his lap over breakfast so he could hold her close. That same niggling worry urged him to hold her tight as they were walking out the door. He escorted her to her car and watched her drive off. Decker figured that she’d get angry or suspicious if he stalked her the three blocks to the restaurant. The roads were public. She’d be fine; he had to believe that.

Straddling his Ducati, he made his way over to Carly’s older brother’s place. Christian Adams, age thirty, hadn’t been hard to track down. He was an auto mechanic with no priors. Divorced two years ago. No kids. Ho hum. Hopefully, Owen, Carly, and this dude would all be at his house, packing up and getting ready to head to the airport.

When Decker pulled up in front of the place, it looked spotless and well kept, if a bit older. Mature trees swept over the roof in the breeze. A big dog napped on the front porch.

A minute after he rang the bell, a short brunette with tousled dark hair, kind blue eyes behind a pair of studious glasses, and a kindly inquisitive expression answered the door. She wore a little sundress that hung off one shoulder and suggested that she’d donned it hastily. No evidence of a bra.

Decker’s first impression was that this woman would never stoop to murder. Her capable, open air told him she’d rather deal with a situation head on.

“Hi. Is Owen here? I’d like to talk to him.”

She turned wary. “You are . . . ?”

“Decker.” He put out his hand. “I’m his ex-wife’s . . . boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened as if startled. “I . . . yeah. He told me about you.”

So he’d made an impression on Owen. Nifty.

“Are you Carly?” he asked.

“I am.”

No doubt from Carly’s tone, she was really confused about his reason for being here. In truth, he was now, too. If Owen hadn’t wanted Rachel dead enough to hire him, and Carly wasn’t that kind of woman . . . who did that leave? A few more questions, then he’d have to move on, turn his head inside out, and dig deeper to figure out who might want Rachel on a morgue slab.

“Nice to meet you.” He stuck his hand out.

She took it. “Same to you. Is something wrong?”

Decker shrugged. “Just like to make sure Owen and I don’t have any problem.”

He had no burning urge to get along with Rachel’s ex, but women usually understood everyone wanting to make nice. So he smiled and waited for her to play along.

He was surprised when she blushed. “I don’t know what you and Rachel said to Owen, but he’s been expressive and, um . . . really affectionate since he came back.”

“That’s good to hear.” Decker smiled faintly. Nice to know that the good professor had listened and understood.

Carly led him into a little den and picked up a few dirty glasses on the table—then swiped a pair of her panties from the floor and shoved them behind her back pocket with an even deeper flush. “I should thank you, in fact. He told me that Rachel didn’t say much, but that you really set him straight.”

Which told Decker that the professor had gotten somewhere between frisky and freaky with his girl in the last few hours, and that she was really pleased.

“He seemed distraught.”

Setting the dirty glasses in the adjacent kitchen, she rushed back to the den. “We’ve had a rough time lately. We were going to get married a few weeks ago, actually. I didn’t plan anything elaborate, just a small ceremony at the Justice of the Peace. I think . . . I knew I wouldn’t go through with it. I kept thinking that it takes two to tango, and Owen couldn’t tell me why Rachel left him. Somehow, I just knew it was important that he understand. I think now he does. And I’m so glad.” She winced. “Sorry to ramble. You don’t know me from anyone, and I’m blurting out my personal life to you. Bad habit. Do you want something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Let me go back and find Owen. I think he’s . . .” She blushed again. “I’ll be back.”

So Owen had been enjoying his postcoital nap when Decker had knocked on the door. Nice.

As Carly disappeared into the bedroom, Decker contemplated what the hell he could say to Rachel’s ex. What if this was the dead end he suspected? Yeah, he supposed it was possible that Owen had been enraged that Carly had put a stop to their first wedding because of what she perceived to be unresolved issues with Rachel. But Owen really didn’t seem like the sort to deal with anger via violence. With logic and scientific theory? Absolutely.

What the hell was he going to do next? Talk to Rachel. Why wait until Tuesday? He had to tell her everything now—and tell her that he loved her. Let the chips fall where they may. Decker raked a hand through his hair and rose, pacing the small room. He didn’t know exactly when he’d lost his heart. Probably when she’d laughed at his really terrible pick-up lines. He only knew that he couldn’t lose her now.

He was about to bolt for the front door when he spotted a framed photo on the wall. Obviously taken a few years ago, Carly stood in a red cap and gown, smiling wide as she held her college degree. Beside her, her parents stood, smiling proudly. But none of that caught his eye. It was the man hovering just behind her.

Carly bopped back into the room. “Owen will be out in a minute.”

The toilet flushed, and the sound faded into the background. Decker’s world narrowed and his heartbeat roared as he stared at the photo. “Who’s this in the picture with you and your parents?”

“My brother Christian. Why?”

Decker’s blood ran cold. “Where is he now?”

She shrugged. “Um, he said something about putting in a few hours at his shop before taking us to the airport.”

Monday. Yeah, the guy would be at work. That fit. Decker breathed a sigh of relief because he knew now that Christian Adams had been the man who hired him to commit murder. And the asshole was occupied on the job and out of Rachel’s path. No reason to think that if he wanted to hire a killer, he’d go do the work himself.

“Does your brother like Owen?”

“He’s been reserved so far, but I think he’ll come around now.” She nodded. “Christian was pretty pissed when I called the wedding off, and I know he thought Owen was still hung up on Rachel. He just wants what’s best for me, especially since our parents passed away. But Owen and I are going to be so much better now. We decided today to plan another wedding, a big one, next summer.”

Good. It would be awkward with big brother in prison, because Decker intended to nail this asshole to the wall and make him pay for ever thinking about hurting Rachel. But no need to clue Carly in on that now.

“Congratulations.” Decker opened his mouth to excuse himself when his phone buzzed. It was Xander.

911. London says Rachel never showed for lunch. Is she with you?

The text made his world stop on its axis.

“I’ve got to go.”

Decker didn’t wait for Carly’s reply, just ran for the door. He tapped out Rachel’s iCloud password to track her phone. She should have been at the restaurant twenty minutes ago, and the location of her phone indicated that she was home. Fear stabbed his heart.

Dear God, let her be safe.

He hopped onto his bike, Carly chasing him, and called 911. After sending the police to Rachel’s house, he shoved his helmet on with shaking hands. Revving the motor and racing down the street, Decker prayed that he wasn’t too late.