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Fifteen years ago Abby Walker’s fiancé, the love of her life and the man she had known since childhood, was killed in a tragic accident mere weeks before their wedding. The loss is devastating, and sends Abby into a downward spiral of grief. But somehow she manages to find love again, only to have it once more ripped from her hands when her husband, Spanish restaurateur Javier Saldana, is brutally murdered before her very eyes by a madman, Trevor Curtis, who, with his own agenda, had been stalking Abby.
CIA Agent Craig Harper is a part of Abby’s past and desperately wants to be a part of her future, but he knows it can never be, because unbeknownst to Abby he is the reason her fiancé, whose loss she still mourns, was killed fifteen years earlier. He is the reason her life was completely and utterly destroyed. Harper knows he cannot tell her the truth without losing her, but at the same time he cannot fully be with her unless she knows the truth.
The chance meeting with Javier Saldana thrusts Harper once more into Abby’s life, and before Javier was killed, Harper promised him he would protect Abby from Trevor Curtis. He intends to keep that promise and then disappear from Abby’s life, for good this time. But when Curtis returns and continues to terrorize Abby, Harper is forced to once again come face to face with her. He saved her once, but this time there is even more at stake, because Curtis is out for revenge and is seeking retribution for a life he was denied, no matter what the cost.
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Fifteen Years Ago
I, Shane Michael Gallagher, take you Abigail Kristine Walker, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish 'till death do us part. And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness.
Shane grinned as he read the vows he and Abby had just chosen for their September wedding. Are you sure you want traditional, because we can go with something more modern if you prefer,
Abby said, nervously twisting her engagement ring.
Shane leaned over and placed his hands on either side of her face, kissed her gently, then pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. I'm a traditional guy, Abby; it's perfect. Stop worrying. It's all going to be perfect and beautiful, because you're perfect and beautiful, and so very, very organized.
He nodded toward the thick pink binder on the table in front of her. Our Wedding was embossed on the cover, and inside he knew were seating arrangements, bridesmaid dress fabric swatches, the reception menu and every other detail he knew very little about. But Abby, she kept it all perfectly organized, right down to the minutest detail.
She gave him a small smile then nervously pulled her lower lip into her mouth and chewed on the corner, her thoughts racing. Did you pick up the invitations from the printer?
I did. And I went for my final tux fitting and bought our airline tickets for the honeymoon. Stop. Worrying,
he said, pecking her lips twice to emphasize each word.
Tell me again where we're going on the honeymoon,
she asked, her big blue eyes twinkling mischievously.
Oh, no you don't,
he warned, getting up from the table at the restaurant. He handed her one of the mints the waiter had brought with their change, then unwrapped the other one and popped it into his mouth. "I can't tell you again because I never told you in the first place. Your trickery won't work on me, Miss Walker, soon to be Mrs. Gallagher. You'll find out when we get to the airport. Pack light because you won't need many clothes," he teased.
You know I hate surprises,
Abby pouted. They walked down the Augusta, Georgia sidewalk hand in hand, enjoying the warm August evening. The temperature had hovered at almost one hundred degrees for the past several weeks, but last night it had rained, bringing slightly cooler weather with it, although the air was still heavy with humidity.
No, you don't,
Shane firmly disagreed. You just like being in control, and letting someone else take the reins scares you. But you'll see; it will be perfect and you'll be begging me to make all our plans from now on.
Abby threw her head back and laughed. We'll see about that!
She stopped walking and grew serious. Are you sure we can afford the honeymoon, Shane?
she asked, looking up at him. I mean, we just graduated and I'm still looking for a job…
Shane held a finger to her lips, muting her words. How about you let me worry about that?
he said gently, his sapphire eyes growing serious. We can afford it. I'm using the money my parents gave me for graduation.
But that was supposed to go toward your new car!
My old car works just fine, so the worrying ends here. You're going to be grey-haired by the time you're twenty-four if you keep this up.
He patted the front pockets of his jeans. Now, for the girl I love who supposedly hates surprises, I have one more. Choose a pocket.
Abby cocked her head sideways at him and grinned. You're too much, Shane Gallagher,
she said, reaching out to take his hand and giving it a squeeze. I don't think I could love you any more than I do right now, and I can't think of anyone else I'd rather spend the rest of my life with.
Well, that's certainly a relief because I'm pretty sure no one else would have me,
he laughed.
Shane Gallagher, with his dark wavy hair and piercing blue eyes couldn't have been more wrong, but that was another reason Abby loved him. He was humble and down to earth, and everyone loved him. Men wanted to be his friend and women wanted to steal him, but since they were kids he had only had eyes for Abby. He loved her more than life itself, and Abby knew she was the luckiest girl alive.
So, which one?
he was asking.
Abby studied his pockets, both of which appeared to be empty. That one,
she decided, pointing their clasped hands toward his right pocket.
Good choice, now close your eyes,
he instructed.
Abby did as she was told and felt something being placed onto her right ring finger. You already have an engagement ring, but this one is a little different,
he said. Open your eyes.
Abby opened her eyes slowly, dragging out the suspense. Shane was right, she did love surprises, but only if she knew nothing about them, because she also craved the control that came with planning. She looked down at her finger to see a gorgeous silver ring with a hand on either side holding a green heart-shaped emerald. On top of the emerald heart was a crown encrusted with two sparkling diamonds.
It's a Claddagh ring,
Shane eagerly explained, an Irish tradition. I found it in an antiques store when I was visiting my grandparents in Dublin this summer. My grandmother wears one just like it, as do all the Gallagher women. The hands represent friendship, which is what we have had since we were kids. The heart, of course, represents love, and I certainly love you, Abby Walker. And the crown represents loyalty, and you have mine until death do us part. You wear it with the heart facing you, which signifies that you are in a committed relationship, so don’t even think about turning it the other direction,
he smiled.
His eyes then grew serious. This ring is all you’ll need to know the truth about how much I love you, Abby; about how much I’ll always love you. Nothing will ever change that. Through the years there will be times when you will have doubts about what we have, because as with any ride, marriage included, there will be many bumps in the road. But look to the ring for the answers, Abby. They’re right there for you to see – love, loyalty, and friendship. Never forget that, and never forget how much I love you.
I won’t forget, Shane. It’s beautiful,
Abby breathed, turning the ring so the last remnants of the day's sunlight would catch the facets of the emerald, turning the stone into a prism. More than beautiful, actually - it's breathtaking. I love it so much, thank you.
She reached up and touched his face and Shane placed his hand over hers and brought her fingers to his lips, lightly kissing her fingertips, eliciting a small groan from Abby's lips.
You wanna just forget all this wedding stuff and elope? We can do it tonight,
he said playfully, wiggling his eyebrows.
You know our parents would kill us, right?
Abby laughed. Her blonde hair sparkled in the sunlight and her eyes twinkled with happiness, and Shane resisted the urge to kiss her right there on the sidewalk, long and hard until they could no longer breathe.
Our mothers would for sure,
he agreed.
I love you, Shane,
Abby said, and I can't wait to be your wife in a few weeks.
Shane pressed the button for the cross-walk and they waited for the light to turn. How about we go back to my apartment and start practicing for the honeymoon?
Hmmm... That could probably be arranged,
Abby smiled coyly.
How much do you love me, Abby Walker?
Shane suddenly asked.
You know how much I love you.
How much?
he pressed, grinning broadly. The signal giving them the go-ahead to cross the road appeared and he walked backward as he held onto her hand, pulling her along as they began to cross the road. He had a beautiful smile, one that lit up his entire face and made the corners of his eyes crinkle mischievously, and Abby smiled back, her heart soaring. She couldn't wait to wake up to that smile every day for the rest of her life.
Someone behind them yelled and Abby suddenly found herself being jerked backward while Shane's grasp on her hand was broken. Everything seemed to move in agonizing slow motion as she watched the smile on Shane's face turn to horrified realization. The sounds that followed were ones she would never forget - the screeching of tires, the sickening thud, and then the screaming - her own - as she threw herself down beside Shane on the hot asphalt and knelt over his body. Shane!
she cried. Oh God, Shane. Don't you die on me. Don't you dare die!
People yelled all around them, and Abby was vaguely aware of someone calling 9-1-1. She held onto his hand. I didn't realize the light had turned,
a man was saying over and over as he ran his hand nervously through his hair. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. The light…
Where is the ambulance?
Abby screamed. Someone do something to help him!
They're on their way,
a woman behind her assured.
Abby,
Shane muttered.
I'm here, baby. I'm right here. You're okay. It's going to be okay.
Tears streamed down her face and Abby felt like she couldn’t breathe as she watched the life fade from the man she loved. Shane’s face was deathly pale but his lips were moving as he tightened his grip on her hand.
I'm sorry,
he mumbled.
Abby lay down beside him on the ground with her face leaning over his. Don't you be sorry, Shane. There's nothing to be sorry about. Help is on the way. You're going to be okay.
His eyelids fluttered closed. Shane! Stay with me, baby. Where is that ambulance?
Abby screamed. She heard sirens in the distance. They're almost here, Shane. Stay with me, baby. Please, Shane, please. I can't do this without you. Please don’t leave me,
she pleaded, her tears soaking the front of his French blue shirt, the shirt she had bought for him because it so precisely matched the blue of his eyes.
I'm sorry, Abby. I love you…
he said softly.
I love you too. You know how much.
Say… it,
he murmured, his words almost indecipherable.
I love you so much, Shane Gallagher. I love you all the way around the world and back again,
Abby cried, tears falling onto his chest as she leaned over him and stroked his face. Shane's body went limp and his hand slipped from hers. Shane, no. Shane!
The paramedics pushed their way through the crowd that had gathered. Hysterical and sobbing, Abby was pulled to her feet and stood helplessly by, her hands pressed anxiously together as the paramedics worked on Shane, performing CPR for several minutes. She watched them shake their heads at each other indicating he was gone. They both looked up at her with pity in their eyes. I'm so sorry, Miss,
the younger of the two said.
No,
Abby said, firmly shaking her head. "No! Fix him, do your job, do something!"
I'm sorry, there's nothing we can do,
he told her, his eyes breaking contact with hers as he looked back down at Shane's lifeless body.
Abby suddenly noticed the man standing beside her, the same man who had gotten out of the driver's seat of the car that had hit Shane. Their eyes met and held, and Abby could see his anguish reflected back at her, but she didn't care. She hated him more than she had ever hated anyone or anything in her life and she wanted him to pay. In a matter of moments her world had shattered and life with the man she loved had been ripped from her forever. She felt lightheaded and nothing around her seemed real, as if she were caught in the most horrible nightmare imaginable.
You!
she screamed angrily, thrusting her fists against his chest. You killed him! You killed…
Abby's words died on her lips as the earth suddenly began to spin out of control and threatened to go black. Strong arms grabbed her and held her tightly just before she fell into the abyss. I'm so sorry,
she heard him say against her ear, his voice low and surprisingly reassuring.
No,
she mumbled, struggling against him. She didn’t want to be comforted – not by him. She wanted to kill him. She wanted to wake up from this horrible nightmare. She wanted… Shane." But the man held tightly to her and she finally stopped struggling and sagged against him, sobbing. Shane was gone.
It’s going to be okay,
he gently assured her, just before darkness mercifully overcame her.
Two Years Ago
Craig Harper sat across the table from Javier Saldana with his arms crossed as the man spoke. Saldana had finished his meal, but Craig had barely touched his own as they sat at an outdoor table at the popular El Quim de la Boqueria, a busy food stall at the Boqueria Market in Barcelona, Spain. I believe Trevor Curtis has fixated on my wife in retaliation,
Saldana was saying.
He's an Anti-American extremist weapons smuggler, not a stalker, Mr. Saldana,
Craig pointed out.
True. However, my wife has begun receiving floral arrangements every Tuesday no matter where we are. Last Tuesday it was at the Manhattan apartment. This week it was at our home here in Spain, in Catalonia.
Craig uncrossed his arms and took a sip of water before responding. How long has this been going on?
he finally asked, his tone neutral. Saldana sat there patiently, knowing full well the agent was methodical and cautious, as well he should be. Craig Harper was driven by substance rather than emotion.
For the past two months,
Saldana told him. It's all here,
he said, handing Craig a single sheet of yellow legal-size paper. I kept a timeline - the florist, the date and time the flowers were delivered, the type of flowers and so on. With each delivery, I have attempted to track down the sender, but hit the proverbial brick wall. He either uses an online service or pays cash at a busy florist where no one will remember him.
It could be a secret admirer,
Craig reasoned, studying the detailed document, both front and back. In the short time Craig had known Javier Saldana, he had learned that the man was extraordinarily thorough and precise with everything he did, a trait Craig could infinitely appreciate.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Craig looked up from the document and met Saldana's eyes. It's what Trevor Curtis said each time he was arrested during the sit-ins he participated in, and what he wrote on every single card that accompanied the flowers.
Saldana nodded. "He's a neo-Nazi. He's bad news, Agent Harper, and he wants retaliation for my part in alerting your people to his weapons smuggling operation. To say that I wish this disgusting excuse for a human being had never entered my restaurant here in Catalonia six months ago would be a vast understatement. When the flowers arrived at our home on Tuesday I knew I had to contact you again. My wife and I are only here for two or three weeks while I oversee the expansion of the Catalonia restaurant, then we will head back to New York. I don't want him following us back there again. I want this to end now.
The man who sent the flowers on Tuesday walked into the flower shop and paid for them in cash. It's all there in my notes. He's here, Agent Harper. Trevor Curtis is in Spain and he's going to go after my wife. He threatened it before, and I don't tend to take threats against my family lightly.
No, I wouldn't either. You did the right thing calling me. I was just headed back home from Moscow, so it was good timing.
Craig traced his finger through the condensation on the outside of his glass as he pondered the situation. Curtis has been on the run for six months. Why would he suddenly start playing this game with you two months ago? Leaving a calling card like that is rather obvious, especially for a man on the run who can't afford to be so blatant.
He's arrogant.
You won't get any argument from me there,
Craig agreed, but why now? There has to be a reason. Look, I'm going to check into it, see if I can dig deeper into this and find a pattern. I'll be taking this, if you don't mind,
he said, indicating the sheet of paper.
It's yours - I made a copy.
Craig nodded. You'll be in town for a few more days?
Another week at least, yes.
And your wife. You have taken precautions, I assume?
She has two bodyguards with her at all times, night and day. She's here in the market with them now,
he said.
Craig had never met Saldana's wife. Six months ago when Saldana had discovered that one of his regular restaurant patrons, Trevor Curtis, was meeting a known arms dealer in Saldana's Catalonia restaurant, Saldana's wife had remained in New York. Saldana didn't want his wife involved in any way, and due to the circumstances he could fully understand. He only knew her name and that she was almost twenty years Saldana's junior.
I'll be in touch with you,
Craig said, standing up to leave. He pulled his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and put them on.
Wonderful, there she is now,
Saldana said. I'd like you to meet her so that you can fully understand why I am so protective. She is my life, Agent Harper.
Craig glanced at Saldana to see which direction the man was looking. Saldana's face expressed both relief and joy at seeing his wife, a leggy blonde beauty in a yellow sundress and tortoise-frame sunglasses. She was flanked by two large bodyguards as she walked toward her husband. Craig felt his chest tighten as the woman grew ever closer. Were his eyes playing tricks on him? It couldn't be. He blinked a couple of times behind his dark glasses, but the image remained the same.
Agent Harper, this is my wife, Abby,
Saldana said proudly, standing up to give his wife a kiss. Abby Saldana removed her sunglasses and held her hand out to Craig. Her eyes were directly on his, but his sunglasses kept her from clearly seeing them. He momentarily hesitated before physically forcing himself to take her hand in his.
It's wonderful to finally meet you, Agent Harper,
she said, shaking his hand as she looked up at him, her smile genuine. Her grip was surprisingly firm for a woman. I'm sorry my husband dragged you away from whatever it was you were doing, but I do appreciate you coming here on such short notice.
Craig forced himself to break contact with her and shoved his trembling hands into the front pockets of his trousers. The United States wants to find Trevor Curtis badly, Mrs. Saldana,
he said, and we'll do whatever it takes.
His voice had taken on a much harder edge than he had meant for it to. Now, I really must be going as I have a lot of work to do. I'll be in touch, Mr. Saldana,
he said. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Saldana,
he said curtly, turning to leave.
Craig walked quickly down the street toward his hotel, his heart pounding as sweat poured off his brow and dripped down his eyes and onto his jaw. He had known Javier Saldana's wife was named Abigail, but it was a fairly common name. He was cursing himself for not looking into her background further six months ago when Saldana had first come to him, but at the time he'd had no reason to.
It had been thirteen years since he had last seen her, and he had been certain he would never see her again. In fact, he had made sure of that. But there she was, standing on the sidewalk in Barcelona. Abby Walker.
Abby poured boiling water into a teacup then randomly selected a teabag from the box on the counter and tossed it in, grabbing the string just in time before it fell overboard into the cup. She held the paper tag between her fingers and absently dunked the teabag in the hot water as her mind wandered. She was distracted and agitated tonight, but she couldn't pinpoint why. Javier was at the restaurant and she was left alone to fend for herself. Well, she wasn't actually alone, as the two bodyguards he'd hired for her were downstairs in the foyer playing cards while they kept watch, but she might as well have been since they never spoke to her unless she spoke to them first.
Satisfied that the tea was sufficiently brewed, she stirred honey into it and carried the cup and her laptop to her bedroom, placed the tea on the nightstand, and got under the covers of the king sized bed.
She opened her laptop. Hello, Facebook,
she muttered, typing in her email address and password. She scrolled through the messages on the home page. Over five hundred friends and everyone was either playing games or not online. She was just commenting on a picture one of her childhood friends had posted when her chat screen suddenly popped up. Abby recognized the person as a woman in England, Fiona Bartlett, she had friended for an online game. Abby had never really spoken to the woman other than commenting on each other's photos or the occasional status update, so Abby wondered why Fiona would open a chat window.
Fiona Bartlett: "How is Catalonia?"
Abby paused before typing. She couldn't remember telling anyone she was going to be in Spain, but she must have, otherwise how else would she have known?
Abigail Walker Saldana: "Beautiful. How is London"
Fiona Bartlett: "Cold and rainy. I would rather be in Catalonia. You should invite me some time."
Abby didn't respond. Something about the conversation was unnerving her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe the woman was just being friendly - tone was so difficult to determine online.
Fiona Bartlett: "Abby? Are you there?"
Abigail Walker Saldana: "I'm here."
Fiona Bartlett: "Do you know where your husband is?"
Abby froze and stared at the screen as her heart began to pound. Why would Fiona ask that? Something was definitely not right, and after the flower deliveries, presumably from Trevor Curtis, Abby was more than a little spooked. She broke the chat connection and swallowed hard. Almost immediately a new message notification popped up within Facebook.
Abby reluctantly opened the message from Fiona Bartlett, and gasped when a photo of Javier appeared. In the photo he was leaving his restaurant with a bag containing take-out containers of food, and was wearing a white shirt and khaki pants, his blue tie loosened around his neck. It was the same outfit he had left the house in this morning, and Abby knew because she had ironed the shirt and pants herself.
Abby grabbed her cell phone and called Javier. Darling,
he answered on the third ring. His accent was always heavier when he was back home in Spain.
Where are you?
Abby demanded, her hand tightly gripping the phone.
I'm in the car on my way home. What's wrong, darling? You sound upset. Has something happened?
His voice sounded worried.
How long ago did you leave the restaurant?
About ten minutes ago, why? Tell me, Abby, what has happened?
Abby quickly calculated that he was only about seven minutes from the house. Someone from Facebook just sent me a picture of you leaving the restaurant. It has to be Trevor Curtis, Javier. Please hurry home.
I'm almost there, darling. Use the intercom and alert the men downstairs. I'm going to hang up with you and call the police. Where are you now?
In the bedroom.
Lock the door and then go into the bathroom and lock that door as well.
Javier, I'm scared.
Don't worry, darling. It's going to be okay. I'll be there soon. I love you.
I love you too, please hurry.
Abby ended the call and locked the bedroom door, then pressed the intercom button.
One of the bodyguards answered. Yes, Mrs. Saldana?
Antonio, the police will be on their way soon. Something has happened and I believe Trevor Curtis has contacted me. Mr. Saldana is on his way home now, so please watch for him and the police. Let me know when both of them arrive.
We'll alert the front gate, Mrs. Saldana, and I'm also calling the police. Where are you now?
In my bedroom.
Okay. Lock the door and stay there, and try not to be frightened. We have everything under control.
Thank you,
Abby said, her voice trembling. She went into the bathroom and closed the door, locking it behind her. Once inside she surveyed the bathroom, her eyes landing on the window that overlooked the outside balcony. It was dark, but she could hear the ocean roaring as the waves crashed into the cliffs far below. She nervously licked her lips and took a slow deep breath that was meant to calm. It didn’t.
She had taken her laptop into the bathroom, as well as her cell phone. Making sure the window was locked she sat down on the floor of the bathroom. The black marble felt like ice against her bare legs and a chill ran down her spine. She wished she had taken the time to change clothes. It was a warm evening, but her thin cotton nightgown was suddenly causing her to feel very exposed. Goosebumps ran along her legs and arms as she glanced up at the hook beside the shower where she usually kept her robe. It was gone. She must have taken it into the bedroom or left it outside by the pool.
She opened the laptop up and saw the message flashing in front of her.
Fiona Bartlett: "Are you afraid, Abby?"
Abby slammed the laptop closed and jumped up from the floor. She dialed Javier as she paced the room. There was no answer. Where are you?
she muttered. Pick up, pick up.
After eight rings the call went to voicemail. Javier, it's definitely Curtis. Where are you? Please, hurry home.
She hung up the phone and pressed the intercom button that Javier had installed in the bathroom and waited for someone to answer.
What happens if you fall, or if the front gate needs to alert you of something?
he had asked her when she had objected to the intrusion.
But it's creepy,
she had argued.
Creepy or not, it's for our safety,
he insisted. And now, she was glad he had.
Javier, older than Abby by eighteen years, usually knew best. Sometimes it annoyed her that he used his age, and thus his years of experience
, to his advantage, but usually it simply made her feel safe. Before she met Javier, she felt very lost and alone. Years of depression had wreaked havoc on her psyche, and the loss of the love of her life, Shane Gallagher, had left her fearful of opening her heart to anyone.
But Javier had changed all of that. He was her rock of security, and she loved him desperately. He adored her and treated her like a queen, and she hadn't been this happy in a very long
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