But she should have known better. Her ex had been shady from the start, a man with cash everywhere except in bank accounts. Where the hell had she thought the money came from? People who were in legitimate businesses had credit cards and debit cards and maybe a couple of twenties in their wallets. They didn’t keep hundreds of thousands of dollars in Gucci briefcases hidden in the closets of their Las Vegas hotel suites.

Of course, she hadn’t known about all that in the beginning. When it had all started, she’d been too snowed by the presents and the dinners out and the plane rides. Only later had she started to question things, and by then it was too late: She had a son she loved and a husband she was terrified of, and that had shut her up quick.

If she was brutally honest with herself, the mystery of Mark had been the true attraction in the beginning. The mystery and the fairy tale and the money.

She had paid for that attraction. Dearly…

The sound of chairs skidding across the floor brought her out of her own head. The meeting was over and the participants were standing up and doing the supportive huggy thing—which meant she needed to get out fast before she became entangled.

It was one thing to listen to them; another to feel them against her.

That she couldn’t handle.

Rising to her feet, she slung her bag onto her shoulder and beelined for the door. On the way out, she said some quick, detail-less things to the others, and as always, got those looks Christians bestowed on the less fortunate, all poor, dear girl.

She had to wonder whether they would have been so generous with the support if they knew where she went and what she did after these meetings. She wanted to believe it would have been no different. Couldn’t help but doubt it, though.

Out in the hall, there were others gathering for the next meeting of the night, which she’d heard was a Narcotics Anonymous group that had recently started congregating at St. Patrick’s. Everyone was cordial, the two sets of troubled mingling as the room handoff occurred.

Searching in her purse to find her car keys, she—

Slammed into a wall of a man.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She looked up, way up, into a pair of lion’s eyes. “I, er…”

“Easy, there.” The man steadied her and gave her a small, gentle smile. His hair was as spectacular as that yellow stare, all different kinds of colors that flowed onto his huge shoulders. “You okay?”