Holiday Homecoming Secrets. Lynette Eason

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      Bryce bolted toward the opening and stepped inside, keeping one hand on the weapon at his side. He flipped the light on and swept it around the interior. “Jade?”

      “Back here.” Her voice reached him, sounding weak, shaky.

      He hurried to her, keeping an eye on the surrounding area in case the person who’d run had company. Bryce rounded the end of the spindle row to see Jade on the floor, holding her head. Blood smeared a short path down her cheek. “You’re hurt!” For a moment, she simply stared up at him, complete shock written across her features. “Jade? Hello?” He waved a hand in front of her eyes.

      She blinked. “Bryce?”

      “Hi.” He glanced over his shoulder, then swung the beam of the flashlight over the rest of the interior. When he didn’t see anyone else, he focused back on Jade. The shock hadn’t faded.

      “You’re here?”

      “Yeah. This wasn’t exactly the way I wanted to let you know I was coming home, but—”

      “What are you doing here?”

      “Can we discuss that later? Let’s focus on you and the fact you’re bleeding from a head wound.”

      “I... I’m all right. It was a glancing blow, but it made me see stars for a few seconds.”

      “Did you get a look at who it was?”

      “No. I thought you were in Afghanistan. Or dead. Or something.”

      “Nope. None of the above.” He paused. “Well, the ‘or something’ might be accurate.” He could understand her shock. It had been six years since they’d seen each other—and that hadn’t gone exactly well. “Anyone else here?”

      “I don’t think so.”

      A car door slammed. Blue lights whirled through the broken windows and bounced off the concrete-and-brick walls. Bryce helped her to her feet. “Let’s get that head looked at.”

      “Wait.” He could see her pulling herself together, the shock of his appearance fading. “I need to take a look at something.”

      He frowned. “Okay.” She slipped away from him and went to the old trunk next to the wall. He stayed with her, and when she went still, he let his gaze follow hers. “What is it?”

      “The person who hit me was very interested in whatever was over here.”

      Bryce nodded to the shovel and disturbed dirt in front of the trunk. “Looks like he was trying to dig something up.” Footsteps sounded behind them and Bryce whirled, pulling his weapon and aiming the flashlight.

      “It’s just me,” Dylan said, raising his hands and turning his head from the full force of the light. When Bryce lowered the gun, Dylan swiped an arm across his forehead and blew out a breath that was visible in the beam.

      Bryce slid the weapon into his shoulder holster. “You catch him?”

      “Afraid not. He had too much of a head start.” Dylan stepped forward, brows together over the bridge of his nose. “You okay, Jade?”

      “I’m fine.” Her low voice pulled Bryce’s attention back to her. With the shovel, she’d moved dirt from in front of the trunk. “What does this look like to you?”

      “Looks like someone’s been digging.”

      “Yes, but why? What could they possibly be looking for out here?”

      “Who knows?” Bryce studied the pile of dirt and the bricks. “Actually, I don’t think they were looking for anything. I think they were in the middle of burying something.”

      Bryce was here. Bryce. Bryce. The father of her child. The child he didn’t know about. Six years ago, Bryce had shown up at her college to tell his sister, Kristy, goodbye before leaving for army boot camp. Jade remembered that day like it was yesterday. Just before he was supposed to leave, she’d received word her grandmother had died. Bryce had offered comfort. Then kissed her. A kiss that had led to them going too far and making a mistake that had resulted in Mia. She’d never regret having Mia, but that one impulsive action had been completely out of character for both her—and Bryce. Since then, she’d kept men at arm’s length.

      Jade kept her face as blank as possible, raised a brow and took another look at the scene in an attempt to gather her composure. “I think you’re right,” she said slowly, doing her best to ignore the pounding in her skull and the rush of memories she’d had tucked away for so long. “But what? It’s not big enough for a grave.” He grimaced, and she shrugged. “Just an observation.”

      “Maybe it’s the start of a grave,” Dylan said, pulling on blue vinyl gloves. He passed a pair to Jade, and she slid off her warm thermal ones to don the others. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Dylan shone his light into the hole in the ground and grunted. “Looks like there’s something in there.”

      A wave of light-headedness hit Jade, and she stumbled backward. Bryce grabbed her arm. “Whoa. Come on. We can deal with this later. Right now, you need medical attention.”

      Dylan eyed her with concern.

      She waved a hand. “It’ll pass. I want to know what was so important that someone was willing to attack me over it.”

      “You’re so stubborn,” Bryce said.

      “I learned from watching you and Frank.” The retort rolled off her tongue effortlessly. Some habits were hard to break.

      “I think you have that backward,” he muttered.

      This time it was Dylan who rolled his eyes. “You two sound just like you did back in high school—like an old married couple.”

      Bryce coughed.

      Heat invaded Jade’s cheeks at the taunt.

      “Not quite,” Jade snapped then drew in a deep breath. She wrinkled her nose and tried not to think about the fact that Bryce was back. Here. In Cedar Canyon. One of her best friends turned...what? Turned into the biggest mistake of her life?

      No. She couldn’t think that. She’d do it all over again for Mia. “You never called,” she said softly, her stomach knotted. “Six years and I never heard from you.”

      Bryce snagged her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

      “Sorry. Right.”

      So, her messages to him sent through Frank had meant nothing. He’d ignored her requests for him to get in touch with her, to call, write, send homing pigeons. Whatever he had to do, she needed to hear from him. And he’d blown her off. That hurt.

      He frowned. “I was undercover a lot. On missions that...” He shook his head. “Without going into detail, communication was spotty at best most of the time.”

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