Mandy blinked sleep-heavy eyelids and stared across the dark bedroom. The sudden surge of blood and the prickling of her senses sharpened her focus. Shadows shifted on the hardwood. Just branches moving outside. Sweating under the heavy comforter, she flung off the covers and padded barefoot across the floor. She undressed, then tossed her flannel pajamas into the hamper and pulled out a pair of cozy yoga pants and an oversize hoodie. The chill swept across her damp skin. She tugged her clothes on.

Crossing to the window, she stopped behind the curtain and peered around it. Outside, the clouds had dissipated, and the sky was dotted with stars. Moonlight flooded the yard. Tree branches and their shadows shifted in the wind at the rear of the property.

Her gaze searched the yard. Anything could hide out there.

Mandy shivered. The tingle on the back of her neck that had woken her drifted down her spine. Eyes. She could feel them on her through the glass. Was someone watching her, or was her imagination working overtime thanks to Danny Sullivan’s suggestion? She pulled away from the window. Returning to the bed, she reached between the headboard and the mattress and slid her gun from the holster she’d secured there.

She grabbed a pair of thick socks from her drawer and tugged them on. Treading softly, she emerged from the family quarters and checked the windows and doors on the first floor. All was secure. She put her weapon in the front pocket of her hoodie.

In the kitchen, she bypassed the light switch and stared out into the moonlit yard. The wind kicked up, blowing against the glass. The inn creaked like old bones. Empty and cold, Mandy filled the kettle and set it on the stove with shaky hands. There was no way she was going back to bed tonight. A few more hours of sleep wasn’t worth the risk of a return visit from her nightmare.

She scooped loose green tea into a mesh ball and dropped it into a china pot. Steam, fragrant with jasmine, rose as she poured the hot water. Leaving the tea to steep, she closed the blinds, shutting out the memories and the darkness that sparked them.

She needed Danny and his curiosity to stay away. Nathan couldn’t be out there. No way. Anger slid over her, warm as a blanket. Despite Nathan’s illness, she had no room for pity. Nathan had stabbed her best friend. He’d lied to her, killed two other people, and put her family at risk. If he showed up at the inn, she’d put him down like a rabid animal.

Unless he killed her first.