Instead of using her time alone to calm down, all she managed to do was imagine all the horrible things that could have happened to her while staring at Adam’s gun. Why on earth would Adam have a gun? She’d noticed a few tattoos on his body last night—and a bold USMC one scripted across his left forearm—so she knew he’d been in the military, but she’d had no clue he carried a weapon. Her father had guns but they were all antiques, solely for the purpose of display.

A minute later, he walked back in carrying everything, including the purse she’d forgotten about.

“Why do you have a gun?” She should probably have been more worried about the maniac who’d tried to run her off the road but the fact that Adam carried a weapon was unnerving.

He handed her the Styrofoam cup of coffee.

“Your car looks horrible.”

She took it, only so she had something to keep her hands busy, and ignored his statement.

“What’s up with the gun?”

He frowned at her as if she were a child. “I have a concealed weapons permit.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question.”

Adam shrugged. “I always carry a gun.”

“Why?”

He shrugged again, which only infuriated her more. “Old habits die hard I guess.”

“Do you mean your time in the Marines?”

“How do you… Oh, my tattoos.”

Despite the tense situation, a smile touched her lips. “I was going to ask you about that big one on your back.”

Her doorbell rang, interrupting them. Adam immediately tucked his gun back underneath his shirt before leaving Izzy in the living room.

Adam schooled his features before opening the door. He’d damn near lost a decade of his life in the past half hour. When Izzy had called in a panic, something inside him had shifted.

He didn’t know what it was, but the thought of losing her was worse than the thought of losing any job. It was worse than any nightmare he’d ever had. If it was possible, he’d call Edward right then and tell him the deal was off. But if he did that, he knew exactly what would happen.

Izzy would never speak to him once she learned the truth. He couldn’t be certain Edward would tell her, but he couldn’t take the chance.

When he opened the door, two men dressed almost identically in dark jeans, polo shirts and sports coats stood on the other side. They flashed their badges and when he was satisfied they were real, he nodded.

“Please come in.” He moved aside, giving them room to enter.

“I’m Detective Simmons and this is Detective Dennis.” The one with the blond hair spoke and

motioned to the black-haired man standing next to him.

Detective Dennis looked vaguely familiar and he wondered if there was any relation to their boss, Toby Dennis. Adam made a mental note to ask Toby later.

He shut and locked the door behind them before motioning they should follow him into the living room. “I’m Adam Marcellus and this is Izzy Ballantine.”

Izzy stood as they entered and shifted from one foot to the other. “Do you gentlemen want any coffee?”

When they both shook their heads, she practically collapsed onto the loveseat. Both detectives took a seat on the longer couch so Adam joined Izzy. Seeing her so shook up brought out all his protective instincts, but more than anything, it pissed him off. Whoever had done this was going to pay.

Again, the blond officer spoke. “Ms.

Ballantine, can you tell us exactly what happened?”

She raked a hand through her dark curly hair and scooted an inch closer to Adam. “Just call me Izzy, and I’m not sure what happened other than someone tried to kill me.”

“How do you know someone wanted to kill you?” the same detective asked.

One of her perfect eyebrows arched in annoyance. “I don’t think they were trying to run me off the road simply to chat, do you?”

Adam smothered a smile while the other detective cleared his throat. This time the dark- haired man, Detective Dennis, spoke. “What can you tell us about the truck? Any distinguishing features?”

She started to answer when the detective’s phone rang. Adam reached out and squeezed her hand and was rewarded with a grateful smile.

They were both silent as the other officer stood and walked toward the kitchen to talk on his phone.

Izzy pushed down her annoyance. They were supposed to be there to help her and the cop was taking a call. Whatever happened to common courtesy? Something like this would never have happened if she’d been back in Savannah. Her father would have… She stopped her train of thought.

She couldn’t believe it, and even though no one could hear her thoughts, she realized she sounded like a snob. She wasn’t in Savannah, and no one knew who her father was. Besides, hadn’t she always told herself she hated getting special treatment because of her last name? Maybe there were more advantages to being a Ballantine than she realized.

Simmons, the blond detective, flipped open his pad. “Ms. Ballantine—”

“Call me Izzy.”

He cleared his throat. “Izzy, can you tell us if the vehicle had any distinguishing marks or stickers?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t see anything noticeable, but I was also trying to stay alive, not check out the paint job.”

“What about the driver? Could you tell if it was male or female?”

“It was hard to see anything but I’m guessing it was male. The silhouette was broad.”

He nodded slightly as he jotted it down.

The detective started to ask another question when his partner returned with a dark expression on his face. “We’ve got to go,” the dark-haired one said.

Frowning, Detective Simmons stood. “I’m sorry ma’am.” He glanced between her and Adam. “Do you two live together or…?”

Their unspoken question was obvious. Would she be alone at any time?

Before she could answer, Adam spoke. “I’ll be with her until this guy is caught.”

Relief flooded both their faces then Simmons nodded curtly. “Good. We’ll be in touch as soon as possible.”

Izzy couldn’t get rid of the sick feeling as the door shut behind them. “Do you think they found another girl or something?”

Adam’s jaw was set grimly. “It’s possible.”

She hated the helpless feeling that bubbled up inside her. It sat in her chest, suffocating her. She didn’t want to sit around and do nothing. As a thought occurred to her, she eyed Adam warily.

He probably wasn’t going to like it. “I have an idea, Adam.

“Why does this sound like something I’m going to regret hearing?” His voice was dry.

“I think the guy who ran me off the road and the guy who made that prank call is the same person. It’s probably also the same guy who tried to kidnap that girl…Andrea something.”

“You’re probably right, but what does that have to do with anything?”

“I want to go see Andrea.” Before he had a chance to respond or try to talk her out of it, she turned on her heel and disappeared into her room.

It was obvious the police were low on manpower so if they couldn’t help her then she was going to help them. In the back of her closet, she dug out her bag of seriously neglected art supplies. Combined with her full-time work at the bar and worrying about paying bills, she hadn’t had time to sketch. A 12 x 16 pad and a couple pens and pencils were all she needed at the moment.

After shoving everything in her oversized purse, she stepped from her closet to find Adam leaning against the doorframe, eyebrows lifted.

“What?” she asked.

“Care to tell me why we’re going to visit that girl?”

“I know she was out of it, but what if she remembers something now? I’m pretty good at sketching faces. We might be able to get something from her.” If her father had taught her one thing, it was to never back down. Depending on others was something she’d never quite gotten used to anyway. Even if the girl didn’t remember anything, at least Izzy hadn’t sat around and done nothing.

“What if I tell you this is a stupid idea and that you should let the police do their job?”

“I’m going anyway. Unless you plan on keeping me hostage, you can either join me or stay here.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” he muttered.

Adam risked another glance across the interior of his truck at Izzy. By the stubborn set of her chin, he knew there would be no talking her out of her plan. All he wanted was for her to stay safe at home. Being out in the open like this made things difficult, especially when she had no clue he was being paid to protect her. The thought of anything else happening to her—No, he wouldn’t think like that. Just because his feelings for her were personal didn’t mean he couldn’t handle watching her.

As they drove, he continually checked the rearview mirror and took a few unnecessary turns in case they were being followed. Izzy hadn’t said anything about his driving route, so he guessed she was too caught up in her own thoughts to notice or care. He’d taken a chance letting her know he carried a gun, but she seemed to be taking it in stride. With everything that had happened today, he was sure that was the least of her concerns.

He might not be in the military anymore, but some things would be ingrained forever. After spending eight years in the service, and almost six of those years overseas, carrying a gun had become as natural as breathing. Hell, after growing up in the slums of New Orleans, he’d probably still carry one regardless. Real monsters existed and it was time Izzy realized that.

“How do you even know this girl is home?” he asked as he steered into the parking lot.

“I don’t, but it’s Monday morning and her roommate said she had chemistry class with the girl who ditched her. The only college close to here is the University of North Florida.”

“So?”

“With the exception of my freshman year I didn’t schedule any classes this early on a Monday. Since she’s chosen to live here instead of directly in Jacksonville she probably—”