His 7-Day Fiancée

She hesitated. Should she call him? If the letter and phone calls were related to the casino attack, he would want to know.

But her priority was Claire, keeping her safe. Which meant reporting this to the police—no matter what Luke Montgomery might want.

Still, the memory of the skepticism in his eyes made her pause. He hadn’t trusted her; that had been clear. He thought she’d sell her story to the highest bidder, even though she’d given him her word.

And maybe she was a fool to care, but there was something sad about a man that cynical, who thought that money always talked. And if she didn’t call him now, she’d only confirm his jaded beliefs.

So maybe she should warn him. Maybe she should update him on this latest threat first and then inform the police.

And pray that whoever was watching them did n’t see them go.

She met her daughter’s frightened eyes, and a frigid pit formed in her gut. Claire was right to be afraid. Because if their watcher learned what she was up to, her daughter would pay the price.

The Las Vegas police were certainly thorough. Three hours later, Amanda still hunched on a folding metal chair in the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police station while Claire dozed on her lap. She’d turned over the evidence, given multiple statements, submitted fingerprints so they could exclude her prints from the note. Now several people crowded around her in the airconditioned room—the detective she’d met in the casino, a petite police officer named Natalie Rothchild, several others whose names she couldn’t recall.

And Luke Montgomery. He’d arrived shortly after she had, to her surprise. Now he sat in the chair beside her, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up, his dark forearms braced on his knees, listening intently while Natalie Rothchild summed up the case.

The police officer tucked her short brown hair behind her ears, then cleared her throat. “All right, then. In light of these developments, I think we have to consider the possibility that the ring isn’t lost after all.”

“Damn,” Luke muttered.

Amanda glanced around at the circle of grim faces, confused. “What ring?”

Detective Martinez shifted his bulky frame in his seat. “We had a murder case recently—a woman named Candace Rothchild.You might have read about it in the news.”

“Yes.” She’d read up on the sensational case after she’d met Luke.

“She was Natalie’s sister,” he added.

“Oh.” Amanda shifted her gaze to the other woman. “I’m sorry.”

Natalie nodded. A pained look shadowed her eyes. “The night she was killed, Candace was wearing a diamond ring, a family heirloom we called the Tears of the Quetzal. We never found it, so we assumed it was lost. But we’ll have to rethink that now.”

Amanda frowned. “You think my note is related to that ring?”

“I think we have to consider that possibility, yes.”

“But I just moved here. How could I possibly be involved?”

“That’s what we need to find out. And it might not be related. But we can’t rule it out, especially since the man who held you up demanded a ring. And that note is similar to the one my father received.” She turned her head, spoke to one of the men. “Get that note to Lex Duncan at the FBI, will you?”

Amanda’s head whirled. She gaped at the nodding men. Surely they were joking. She was tangled up in a diamond theft? It didn’t make any sense.

She gave her head a sharp shake, tried to recall the facts of the case. From what she’d read, Luke had hosted a jewelry convention in his casino a few weeks back. Celebrities from around the globe had attended the glitzy event—including the casino heiress Candace Rothchild. Later that night she’d been murdered, her ring stolen. The priceless diamond ring—rumored to be under a bizarre curse promising the wearer love at first sight—had never been found.

Luke had originally been a suspect, although he’d later been cleared of the crime. She cut her gaze to his harsh profile, noted the rigid line of his jaw. No wonder he’d come here. He was as involved in this case as she was.

She pressed her hand to her throat, still unable to process it all. It was bad enough to think Wayne could be watching her. But a vicious murderer…

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” Natalie said gently.

Dazed, Amanda jerked her attention from Luke. The other police officers rose and began filing out. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Your exhusband was released from jail last week.”

Shock rippled through her. She tightened her hold on Claire. “But…Detective Martinez said he was in jail.”

Natalie made a face. “I’m sorry. There was a computer glitch, and some of the data didn’t get entered on time. Wheeler reported to his parole officer in Maryland yesterday, though, so you shouldn’t have to worry about him.”

“You don’t know Wayne.” He was clever. Cunning. And he knew her habits, her fears. She closed her eyes, felt her skin go cold. Her worst nightmare had just returned.

Natalie stood. “We’ve increased our patrols in your neighborhood, and we’ll have someone monitor the house tonight in case anyone goes near that mailbox. We’ve also told Maryland to alert us if Wheeler breaks his parole.”

It wouldn’t do any good. Wayne had gotten around those measures before. A tight ball of terror knotted her gut.

Natalie shook her hand. “We’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, knowing there wasn’t much else the police could do. She’d learned that fact back East.

“Claire, honey.” She nudged her daughter gently to wake her. “It’s time to go.”

She roused her daughter, helped her to her feet, then left the room on quivering legs. Behind her, Luke and Natalie began to talk.

So Wayne was out of jail. He would come after her, if he hadn’t already. He’d promised her he would. And if that weren’t enough, she had a killer on her heels, demanding a ring she didn’t have. Hysteria gurgled inside her. Could her life get any worse?

And what on earth should she do? Clutching Claire’s small hand, she exited the building, then squinted in the blinding sun. She had to go home, warn Kendall. But then what? Should she leave town?

Would it do any good? Running from Wayne was hard enough. How could she flee an enemy she didn’t know?

“Mommy,” Claire said, her voice anxious.

Realizing she’d been squeezing Claire’s hand, she relaxed her grip. “Don’t worry. Everything’s okay,” she lied. She knelt, ignored the pavement sizzling her bare knees, and gave her daughter a hug. She buried her face in her hair, inhaled her littlegirl scent, held her small, warm body tight against hers.

But a terrible dread lodged inside her, a wild, desperate fear that seeped like ice through her bones. How could she protect her daughter from a killer? She’d never felt more terrified in her life.

But she had to succeed. Claire’s life was inherhands. She opened her eyes, smoothed the silky strands of hair from her daughter’s cheeks, then eased her grip and rose.

“How about macaroni and cheese for dinner?” she suggested. This was definitely a comfort food night. “And then we’ll watch a movie, maybe Mary Poppins. Would Brownie like that?”

Claire whispered to her bear, then held it up to her ear. Her big blue eyes met hers. “The Little Mermaid, too.”

“Sure, we can do that.” They might as well watch movies all night. No way would she fall asleep knowing a killer was lurking outside. She grabbed Claire’s hand and stepped off the curb.

“Amanda, wait.” She glanced back, surprised to see Luke Montgomery hurrying toward her, his black hair glinting in the sun.

He caught up to her and stopped. He glanced at Claire, then leveled his whiskey-brown eyes at hers. “We need to talk.”

“Sure.” Although she couldn’t imagine what he’d have to say. She motioned to her green Honda Accord across the lot. “I parked in the shade. Why don’t we talk over there?”