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back a curse and followed him into the high-ceiled great room, going to the corner bar while his dad wheeled over to the fireplace to brood. The day had been long and tedious, spent searching for Lisa Halldor again. He couldn’t risk hiring a private detective even though he’d told the old man he was working with one. It wasn’t the first lie he’d given his parent, and certainly not the worst. Not that he cared.

For twenty-four years, he’d suffered from learning his philandering father had sired a daughter, and he had a half-sister who was already five when he discovered her existence. His mother had turned a deaf ear to the news, much like she’d turned a blind eye to her husband’s affairs over the years. The lifestyle from his millions was enough compensation for her. Since his father was away more than home during the first twenty years of Bruce’s life, was it any wonder he’d taken after her and put maintaining his lavish lifestyle as his top priority?

Since his mother’s assumption she would out live Frank due to their twenty-five-year age difference didn’t pan out, Bruce had been looking forward to spending all those millions himself until his father fell for some religious nonsense. Surprise and anger didn’t begin to cover his reaction when the old man announced he wanted to claim the daughter whose existence he’d ignored for twenty-nine years and make up for his neglect by adding her to his will. The only good news he’d given Bruce that day several weeks ago had been putting him in charge of locating her.

“You’re not trying hard enough. Fire that investigator and find someone else,” Frank demanded, his age-spotted hand shaking as he took the Waterford cut-crystal glass Bruce handed him. “How hard can it be? We know her name.”

“It wouldn’t make a difference. My guy is good, but if there are no leads, then it doesn’t matter who you go with. She’s not anywhere in the Phoenix area, but she’ll surface somewhere.” At least he hoped that proved true. There’s the possibility his failed attempt to take her out with the faulty brakes had scared her enough to send her into hiding for good. If so, that would work as well in his favor as making sure she didn’t live longer than dear old dad. He regretted letting his irritation push him into tormenting her with anonymous threats before seeing her dead.

  “It’s a nice evening. Let’s sit outside until dinner,” Bruce suggested, needing to keep on his good side.

“You go ahead.” Frank waved his arm in a shooing motion.

Bruce refilled his drink, spun on his heel, and went out the French doors. Settling in a patio chair, he took a big, fiery gulp of whiskey, working to get his pissed-off frustration under control. His gaze skipped across the rippling clear water of the infinity pool to take in the majestic view their hilltop mansion offered, a reminder of what money could buy. Paradise Valley sat nestled in the foothills of Mummy Mountain with the Camelback and Piestewa Mountains hovering in the background and was home to only the wealthiest people in the state. Then there was his mounting gambling debt to consider, and the people he owed a small fortune to who didn’t like to be kept waiting for payment.

He intended to remain one of the elite and get out from under his crushing debt by ensuring he stayed the sole heir to the Pomeroy fortune, and Bruce always got what he wanted.

****

Shawn leaned sideways as his dun Mustang, Nevada, made a sharp right to cut off the Black Angus from darting farther away from the herd. The stallion had been a handful to break in but worth every bruise and now loved riding. Spending the weekends on the range with Clayton, Dakota, and the ranch hands always helped to clear his head of cobwebs and plaguing thoughts, like one emerald-eyed blonde who was driving him nuts. The more time he spent with Lisa Halldor, the more she intrigued him, and the deeper his suspicions went that he knew her from somewhere.

He couldn’t discount the significance of the flashbacks to that time in the past he’d thought he had put behind him, nor could he talk himself into believing in such a coincidence as she was the same girl he’d rescued so long ago. Unlike Clayton and Dakota, both of whom still struggled with the fact the people responsible for their parent’s deaths hadn’t paid the price for their crimes, Shawn was content knowing the armed domestic abuser who had shot and killed his father was still sitting in prison, serving a life sentence. With the help of Father Joe, he’d come to terms with his father’s death, and even though he still missed him, he’d moved on from that hurtful time, honoring his father’s memory by following his footsteps into law enforcement.

At least, he’d thought he’d adjusted well until he met Lisa and all he could think about was the night they’d fled the Atkins’ house. And that made no sense.

“Good boy,” Shawn praised Nevada with a pat on his neck as he straightened in the saddle and guided the Angus toward the herd grazing around the lake.

Wildflowers were starting to bud across the pasture, another sign of spring on top of the warmer weather. His biggest adjustment in moving from Arizona to Idaho had been the drastic climate differences – the winters here were damn cold and long. Still, after testing Buck’s authority the first six months, he’d acclimated to the weather and his new life on the ranch with a spurt of enthusiasm.

“What are you thinking about that caused that shit-eating grin?” Clayton asked as he rode up on his tan, white-and-black quarter horse, Sierra.

“Buck, and how hard we tried to get him to send us back home at first. Christ but we were little

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