Chapter 4

      Despite what she’d told Sully, by the time they arrived at Hunter Hall, the eighteenth-century estate in the northern-Virginia countryside where the charity gala was being held, Haley’s bravado was fading fast. She stared out the passenger-side window of their borrowed car at the thousands of acres of dusky woodland rolling toward the Shenandoah River and struggled to contain her nerves.

      She dreaded confronting her parents. She feared exposing her presence to the killer who wanted her dead. Every instinct she possessed warned her to run, take cover, hide. Instead, she was going public, revealing her identity, setting herself up as a target—and putting Sully’s life even more at risk.

      But she had no choice. She couldn’t go on looking over her shoulder. She couldn’t keep fleeing the killer when he’d only find her again. And she couldn’t continue to jeopardize those teenage girls. Unless she brought him down now, she could never return to her shelter. She would lose everything she’d worked for—her dreams, her sense of security, her home.

      Still, she never should have involved Sully. She should have kept him far from the gang trying to murder her instead of coercing him to help. So what if he’d saved her life? She had no business endangering him further—no matter how badly she needed his support.

      Battling back a flurry of anxiety, she cast him a glance, taking in the wide, muscled shoulders straining his tuxedo, the appealing contrast of his swarthy skin against his stark-white shirt. He’d combed his shaggy hair into submission and shaved the beard stubble from his face, revealing the hard planes of his cheeks and jaw. But somehow, his attempt to tame his appearance only emphasized the power of his features, making him look even more uncivilized.

      He turned his head and his gaze connected with hers. And for one unguarded instant, that raw heat tangled between them, those whiskey-colored eyes wreaking havoc on her insides. Then he lowered his gaze, traveling over every inch of her, unleashing a frenzy of nerves in her chest.

      She jerked her gaze to the windshield, her pulse on a wild stampede. She didn’t need this. It didn’t matter if he compelled her. It didn’t matter if he radiated an inner pain she found hard to resist. She couldn’t afford to let him distract her, no matter how much he stirred her blood. She had to track down the man trying to kill her—or they both would end up dead.

      The long drive began to curve, the centuries-old oak trees and tulip poplars closing in on her like a gauntlet on either side. Then the mansion came into view, its huge white pillars spurring her pulse into another sprint. Sully stopped in front of the imposing entrance, and a teenage valet rushed over to open Haley’s door. She stepped out of the car, trying to attribute the chills skidding down her spine to the cold, autumn breeze instead of fear.

      Sully joined her at the portico steps. “Some place.”

      “It’s on the historic register.” The exquisitely restored mansion was the epitome of antebellum gentility with a huge central hall built of local limestone flanked by two-bay wings. Not exactly where she’d expect to confront a killer. But that’s why they were here.

      A burst of laughter drew her attention to the side of the house. Stopping, she studied the people crowded around a sports car parked beneath a tent. “They always have a raffle at these events,” she explained. “People donate cruises, vacations, cars.”

      Sully raised a brow. “Must be nice to have that much money to give away.”

      “They don’t do it to be kind. Well, maybe a few of them do.” She had to be honest about that. “But for most of these people, money’s a means to an end—status, power. That’s how they measure your worth—by what you can do for them. And if you can’t help them get ahead, they discard you without a thought.”

      Oh, God. Where had that tirade come from? Her face warmed as she realized how bitter she sounded, at how much of her past she’d disclosed. “I’m sorry, I—”

      “Haley.” Closing the distance between them, he reached out and cupped her jaw. His touch was gentle, barely there, but his warm, calloused skin sent a blaze of heat rushing through her, both thrilling and steadying her somehow. “We don’t have to do this. We can leave right now.”

      His husky words rumbled through her. His eyes and voice held her captive, anchoring her in place. And for a minute, she was so darned tempted to take the easy way out, to jump back in the car and leave before anyone noticed them here.

      But she’d never forgive herself if she gave up. This killer was threatening her friends, her pregnant girls, the dreams she’d spent years working to make real. She had to stand and fight.

      “No. I need to talk to my parents. But let’s make it fast, all right?”

      He lowered his hand, a crooked smile warming his eyes. “A ‘shoot and scoot’ it is, then. A quick attack and then retreat,” he added when she gave him a quizzical look. “We’ll get the information we need and go.”

      “That sounds good.” Especially the part about retreat. But she refused to run. She could handle her parents. She was older now. She had a satisfying life helping troubled teens. She didn’t need their approval, didn’t need them to validate her self-worth. And she wouldn’t let them shake her composure, no matter how nervous she felt.

      Sully offered her his arm. “Ready?”

      “As much as I’ll ever be.” Gripping his arm for courage, she turned to the entrance and accompanied him through the massive door.

      But one glance at the crowd milling beneath the chandeliers—their diamond jewelry flashing, their forced laughter rising above the strains of the string quartet—made her want to bolt. She despised this world—power brokers making deals over old-fashioneds. Women plotting remarriages over caviar. Do-gooders who wouldn’t dream of getting their hands dirty, writing checks to absolve themselves of any real responsibility for fighting the evil plaguing the world.

      But this wasn’t the time to indulge in a rant. And no matter where the money came from—or why—it went to a worthy cause, supporting shelters like hers.

      Assuming she survived long enough to collect the check.

      While Sully