“It’s a long story.”
“You can tell me if you want.”
“I don’t mind talking about it. I had leukemia when I was eighteen. The chemo affected my fertility. I only menstruate once a year or so, which means I don’t ovulate very often. We got lucky with Sean.”
“Wow. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. I have Sean. I have Zach. I’m as happy as I could ever imagine being.” She beamed. “And we do our best to hit that once a year jackpot.”
“Can’t say I blame you. Your husband’s a stud.” Annie turned serious. “And your illness?”
“It’s been nearly seven years now. I’m considered cured.”
“Thank God.”
“I do. Every morning and every night.”
“I can’t imagine going through something like that.”
“Do you think it’s worse than what you went through in your first marriage?”
Annie warmed. Redness seared her chest. “How did you know?”
“We’re kindred spirits, Annie. Animal lovers always are. I’ve seen you with your patients. I know how much you care. I know what a good mother you’d be. If you kept yourself from becoming one, you had a good reason.”
“I did.”
“You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to. But I think you should tell Dallas.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t. He… He won’t want me anymore. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.”
“Of course he’ll want you. Why wouldn’t he?”
“Because…when I think about it… When I think about what I let happen to me… I… Well, I don’t really want myself.”
“Oh, Annie.”
“He went to prison for what he did to me. And now—” Annie gulped back a sob. “Now he’s out. That’s why my mother flew out unannounced yesterday. She didn’t want to tell me over the phone. He’s been released on parole.”
“Annie, honey, come here.” Dusty opened her arms.
“I’m all right. Really.” Unshed tears stung her eyelids. She wasn’t used to kindness. She loved her family, but they weren’t touchers. People in Jersey didn’t share their feelings. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
But she found herself in the arms of her first real friend in a long time, crying her heart out.
* * *
Logan Riggs needed money. He could make a bundle in the casinos, but he needed some starting cash. The few friends he had were all tapped out. At least that’s what they said. His other contacts… ell, he’d lost them when he’d fingered them to the cops to help move his parole date along.
Nark. Canary. Squealer. That’s what he was. But a free nark. He could live with that.
Now he had to find the only source of green he knew of. His sweet little ex-wife. She had received an inheritance from some old biddy aunt in Italy before he was arrested. Now it was time to collect.
Of course, there was a little problem. He had no idea where she was, and no one was talking. She and her family had a restraining order against him. He’d stay away from her family. They wouldn’t tell him anything anyway. They’d die first, all of them.