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I poured myself a cup of the heavenly smelling brew, then sat at a stool by the breakfast bar.

Bacon sizzled in the frying pan while Shep tended a pot of scrambled eggs and lowered bread into the toaster. Here was a guy who could multitask.

I sipped my coffee and a moan of pleasure escaped my lips. Only then did he glance over his shoulder.

“Is it okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “It’s good.”

“Spent a lot of years drinking shit coffee, or none sometimes. Only quality beans for me now.”

We had that in common, if nothing else.

Shep placed a plate of food before me and another on the opposite side of the counter for himself. He remained standing to eat.

I picked up the fork and paused. “Thank you. This looks… delicious.” And it did, but I hoped showing some gratitude might ease the tension between us. He seemed more relaxed than he had earlier, so perhaps he wanted to turn over a new leaf today, too.

“No problem. Figured you’d be hungry after, well, after everything yesterday.” He bit into a slice of buttered toast.

I gave him a tight-lipped smile, remembering that I was trying to be nice, then sampled the eggs. Not bad.

We ate in silence while a thousand questions whirred through my brain. I dreaded asking Shep any of them, but this wasn’t the time to wuss out.

I swallowed a mouthful of bacon and cleared my throat. “So, what happens now? With me, I mean.”

“You stay here and lie low while I get things organized.” He shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

I shifted on the stool. “Yeah, you told me that much last night. What things do you need to organize?”

“Well, I already mentioned the safe house. Plus, you’ll need a new identity. I know a guy who does skilled work with document forgery. We need a passport and birth certificate as a minimum. I’ll get you set up with an overseas bank account and plane tickets—”

“Whoa, wait up.” I held out a palm. “Plane tickets? Passport? Surely you don’t mean for me to leave the country?”

Shep paused with his fork halfway to his mouth and stared at me as ifIwere the crazy one. “Yeah, I do.”

“That sounds kind of extreme, don’t you think?”

He shrugged and continued eating. “Not if you know Franky. TherealFranky. Not the schmuck from the commercials.”

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I have an aunt in Illinois I can stay with. I’ll lie low there until this blows over.” I stabbed a piece of bacon on my fork and popped it into my mouth.

“No, you need to leave the country.” He licked his fingers before taking a sip of coffee.

I chewed on my food and tried to remain calm while I pondered his request. I didn’t want to argue with him again, but there must be some compromise to be had. “Mexico, then. I have a friend in San Carlos. I trust her. She—”

“It’s not far enough away,” he interrupted, then tossed a corner of toast to Ranger. “And you can’t trust anyone anymore.”

My fork clanged as I dropped it on the plate. “With all due respect, you’re being ridiculous. This is my life we’re discussing. You can give your opinion on where I go, but the decision is mine to make.”

Shep dusted toast crumbs from his hands, then braced them against the edge of the counter. “Listen, Franky needs to believe you’re dead. The whole of America needs to presume the same. Your disappearance won’t go unnoticed, Cameron. Soon enough, your face will be front and center of every news website in the country, so it won’t take long for someone to recognize you if you show up in another state. And if one American tourist spots you in Mexico, it’s game over.” He raised one shoulder. “And I’d rather you go somewhere safe. It’s not much good me saving you from the Mob only for you to be murdered in Tijuana by a cartel thug.”

His concern for my wellbeing beyond this Mafia fiasco surprised me. My brow knitted. “You really think the Mob would cross state and international borders to finish me off? For revenge?”

“If Franky figures out you’re alive, he’ll stop at nothing to bring you down. His power is growing. He has links across the country. I’ve seen him crossed before, and I have never known someone as vengeful as that fucker.”

“Tell me more about him.”

“Franky?”


Tags: Julie Weaver Team Zulu Romance