Police are still investigating the mysterious death of billionaire W. Anderson Crane, the CEO and president of Duskoff International. Last Saturday, he fell through a window of the Duskoff Building in New York City and plummeted forty stories to his death. Police have no witnesses and no leads in the case; however, suicide is suspected. His adopted son, Stefan Faucheux, reportedly revealed that Crane suffered from advanced bone cancer. Crane was not expected to survive and had purportedly expressed suicidal intentions....

She muted it and put the remote back down, shuddering with the memories of the shattering glass, the scream, and the silence. It was only now that she was beginning to deal with the fact that she'd murdered someone. Even though it had been a case of self-defense, she'd still taken a life.

Would Stefan come after her for what she'd done? She'd seen and felt how powerful he was, and Mira wasn't sure she could stand against him if he did.

The tinkle of the diner door opening caught her attention. The familiar large form of Jack McAllister filled the doorframe. He searched the diner and caught sight of her standing there in the act of drying her hands on the dish towel.

This was the last thing she needed. Sighing, she threw the towel onto the counter.

He looked magnificent, as always, though a bit worn. Stubble darkened his jawline. He wore a pair of jeans, black boots, a black sweater, and his navy peacoat.

Jack took a booth in her section as luck would have it. Or perhaps he'd been watching from his car before he came in so he'd know where to sit.

Mira took care of all her other customers before walking to Jack's booth with a pot of coffee and a cup in her hands.

She set the cup down and filled it, then tossed one packet of sugar down beside it. She didn't have to ask how he took his coffee. "What are you doing here?”

"I came to apologize.”

She raised an eyebrow. "Really? You came to apologize for lying to me?”

"I didn't lie. I simply concealed some things.”

"Yeah, that would be another way to say you lied, Jack," she retorted furiously.

"You're right. I lied." He rubbed his hand over his chin. "I made a mistake, and now I'm paying for it. I just wanted to come and apologize. I know you must hate me now that you know who my father was and I just wanted—”

She set the pot down on the table with a clunk, making coffee slosh back and forth. The family in the next booth over gave her a curious look.