On the surface this trip was all about giving his family peace, but there was another reason he was here, one that was much more selfish.

Danny cruised past a green sign announcing that the town of Huntsville, Maine, was two miles ahead. Queasiness rolled through his gut. Back in December, he’d come here to rescue his sister but ended up saving another of Nathan Hall’s victims instead. That night had been a turning point in Danny’s new civilian life. For the first time since his medical discharge from the army, he’d functioned under pressure. His combat first aid training had overridden his post-traumatic stress. He’d contained the guy’s guts and his own panic until the medevac had arrived.

Go him.

He rounded a bend and descended into a valley. The small town of Huntsville spread out in front of him like a travel brochure photo. Buildings were sturdy, practical, and showed the beatings of harsh New England winters. Colonial Yankee colors dominated the scene. Lots of barn red and pale yellow. Mountains on the horizon framed the picture. But for Danny, the country charm was tainted by memory. A vision stormed into his head. A haze of blood and fear, a dying man, and the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen right in the middle of it all. The woman whose voice and trust had helped him beat back the darkness. The woman who belonged to another man.

Mandy Brown.

The selfish reason he was here.

The business section of town was only a few blocks long. His car turned off Main Street as if on autopilot. A minute later, Danny pulled up to the curb and looked up at the large three-story house. The Black Bear Inn, owned by Mandy’s family, stood tall behind a sloping lawn of pale spring grass. The white clapboards looked tired, as if winter had been particularly rough to weather.

Was she inside?

Though he hadn’t seen her since that night, her soothing, steadying voice was etched in his mind. He’d mentally replayed it through four months of therapy, exercise, and balanced meals. Was she as beautiful as he remembered, or had his imagination exaggerated her perfection?

As the car idled, nerves hummed in Danny’s belly. He could go inside and find out what she knew about the status of the investigation. Right. As if that were the reason he’d headed straight for the inn. Or he could drive out to the house and get settled.

Danny turned in to the driveway. He hadn’t driven eight hundred miles—not to mention blown the family’s savings on an expensive psychiatrist—to wimp out now. Time to man up. He parked in the small lot behind the inn, shut off the engine, and looked up at the house. A bay window on the back porch gave him a view of the inn’s kitchen—and the woman inside.