When no one answered, he hit the doorbell a couple of times, tension rolling off him almost thick enough to see. When no one came to the door, his anger seemed to swell, which Abby understood. The longer they waited, the clearer her memory of Ray Peters holding a gun to her head became. And her cousin Jude had put him up to it.

Gage was about to knock again when the front door swung open. Though she was fifty, Olivia Farrell was still a beautiful woman, with heavy dark brown hair and blue eyes.

“What in the world! I was coming as fast as I could.” Always conscious of her appearance in front of a handsome man, Olivia pulled the sash of her green velvet robe a little snugger around her waist, showing off her trim figure. “What could possibly be so important at this time of the morning?”

Gage’s eyes narrowed and not with appreciation. Abby stepped in front of him before he could lash out. “Aunt Olivia, this is Gage Logan. We need to speak to Jude.”

Olivia raised her chin. “Jude isn’t up yet. He was out late last night.”

“I’ll be happy to wake him up.” Gage pushed past her into an entry lit by a crystal chandelier. The floors were polished hardwood. White molded ceilings soared above the two-story entry. “Which room is he in?”

Olivia’s mouth tightened. “Good grief, Abigail, please tell your rude friend I’ll have Jude call him later, after he’s had breakfast.”

Gage ignored her. Taking the stairs two at a time, he paused at the top to peer down at them over the mahogany railing. “Which room?”

“You’d better tell him, Aunt Liv. Gage won’t leave until he talks to Jude.” And neither will I, she thought.

“Fine. His room is the third door on the left, but I told you, he’s still asleep.”

“Then it’s time he woke up,” Gage growled, storming on down the hall. Abby hurried up the stairs and raced down the hall, catching up with him just as he turned the doorknob and burst into the bedroom.

In a pair of rumpled flannel Avenger pajamas, Jude jerked upright, blinking against the morning light shining through the windows. His head swiveled toward the door, and he stared at Gage with wild, disbelieving eyes. “Who the hell are you?”

“Your worst nightmare.” Gage grabbed the collar of Jude’s pajama top at the back of his neck, hauled him out of bed and across the room, and shoved him into a chair.

“Mother! Mom!” Jude started to rise, but Gage shoved him back down.

“Sit down, and shut the hell up!”

Jude clamped his lips together but couldn’t keep them from trembling. Abby cast a worried glance at Jude’s round, terrified face, which seemed to heat Gage’s temper even more.