I parked my baby-blue Porsche in my brother Leo’s cobblestone driveway. He’d bought one of those huge historic homes and made everything inside modern. I thought it was flashy and a bit of a way to gloat about how much money we were making, but he’d done it to make his girls happy. Besides, who was I to judge? My apartment overlooking the East River was just as over the top.

In truth, I loved that Fiona and Violet had given Leo the shove back to putting his family first. His friend Anton had taken too much of his loyalty over the years. I was glad it was focused back where it belonged. I rang the bell for Sunday dinner with my favorite bottle of Tignanello cradled in my arms like the treasure that she was.

The door swung open, and Leo rolled his eyes. “Thank God you’re here. Can you please explain to my very pregnant and very stubborn wife that she can’t just hire a nanny after one Facetime because they ‘bonded’.” He air-quoted the last word, which was a mistake, because Fiona noticed it right away and stomped over. I had no idea how she moved so gracefully with her massive belly.

“I like her. She has a degree in early education. She’ll be great for Vi and the twins. Plus, I’m the one who will be spending time with her. It’s my opinion that matters.”

I scanned the entryway for any signs of my Aunt Chezzie, the dog or any damn neutral ally, but found none.

Leo made way for me to enter then turned to his wife. “Fi, I’m just saying let me do a background check. It will take twenty-four hours.” Calmer, and with a smile, he continued, “Then—if everything checks out—we can offer her the position.”

I leaned over and gave Fiona a kiss on the cheek. “You look great. How you feeling?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t do that, Francis Ricci. Don’t change the topic for his sake. But thank you…and I’m exhausted. Chezzie came early and took Violet to the beach, so I napped then hired a nanny.” She grinned at Leo, whose nostrils flared as he reached for the bottle.

“Nice,” he said as he read the label. Then, to his wife, “You gotta give me twenty-four hours. I can’t let a stranger into our house—our life—without at least running her social security number. Come on.” With his free hand he tucked a strand of her long, brown hair behind her ear. “It’s just to keep you safe. You know that.”

Fiona frowned, but Leo’s soft tone had worked its charm. “Fine. But you have to promise not to be biased against something stupid like bad credit. That was me three years ago. There are people out there who just need a break.” The little lift of her eyebrows and tilt of her head emphasized that she wouldn’t budge on her final point. My sister-in-law was clear on many things. One, her house had to be immaculate at all times. It was how she respected the wealth she was experiencing. Two, Sunday dinners were mandatory. And three, she always remembered where she came from.

Leo cut his eyes over to me in a ‘see what I’m dealing with here’ glance. And I did—not that I would admit it in front of her. But we had to at least run a credit check on the new nanny.

I pointed my thumb to the door. “I have my laptop in the car. I can run her details while we eat then have a look after. You’ll get your answer tonight like that.”

Fiona smiled but Leo scrunched his face like he’d smelled something foul.

He shook his head down the hall to the kitchen and mumbled, “Always gotta be the hero.”

It wasn’t far from the truth. Since Leo and I had changed the direction of our lives, I’d gotten a lot of satisfaction from doing the right thing. But it was odd to let a talent go to waste. Not that I’d enjoyed killing people, but I was just so damn good at it. Our father had been an outstanding teacher. It was fucked up—we were fucked up—but there had been a perverse pride in a job well done, another unsolved murder. With our new roles of keeping people safe, the feeling wasn’t the same. It was somehow status quo.

Fiona mouthed a ‘thank you’ and reminded me that I had work to do then quietly clapped her hands to the kitchen where she kissed her husband. His annoyed stance from before melted like chocolate on a hot day. It was pretty fucking disgusting how happy they were, especially since I’d failed—yet again—to find a spark with the last woman I’d gone on a date with. Chezzie had told me I was ‘emotionally unavailable’. To me, that sounded like a bullshit label to make a man feel guilty about not wanting to talk about stupid shit. Maybe my standards were too high. I’d seen what Leo had. I wasn’t sure I deserved the same thing, but I wouldn’t take any less.

I let myself out and grabbed my laptop from the small trunk then settled into Leo’s study. Fiona bounced in with a sheet of paper and handed it to me. “Here’s everything I know about her.”

There was no date of birth or social security number, just a small photo, a list of odd jobs and her education. Yeah, little brother, I see what you’re dealing with.

But there was contact information, a current employer and an address, so at least I had something.

I faked a smile to Fiona. “I’ll get started. Call me when it’s time to eat.”

“You’re the best. I appreciate this so much.” She rubbed her hand over her belly, smoothing the white sundress, then was gone in a whoosh.

Okay, Megan Walsh of small-town Iowa, let’s find your secrets.

I started with social media. If she were a drunken party girl, there would be proof. But none of the Megan Walshes matched her photo or location. What twenty-something didn’t want her face plastered everywhere so her friends could tell her how pretty she was?

Without a social security number, I couldn’t run her credit, and finding her date of birth without some kind of hint from a public profile would require me guessing what county she’d been born in and hacking into their records—something I would have hired an expert to do. I did manage to find a picture of her apartment building, which was small and ugly. That only made her poor, but what person trying to be a nanny would be wealthy, anyway?

After about an hour, I didn’t have much.

“Hey.” Leo leaned into the study. “Please tell me she’s a serial killer so I can be right just one damn time.”

“She’s not anything for the moment.” I held up the piece of paper Fiona had given me and waved it. “There’s not a lot here to go by.”

Leo scrubbed his face. “What am I gonna do? I can’t bring a stranger into our house. Shit. But dinner’s ready. Let’s eat.”

I closed my laptop and followed him down the hall to where Chezzie and Violet were already at the table with Fiona. Leo had grilled some sausages and a massive steak. Three of Chezzie’s best salads were in the middle of the table. I kissed my aunt and niece then sat opposite them.

“Uncle Frankie? Did you know that Nana’s secret to making salad was to rub the bowl with garlic first?”

“I did.” I winked and unfolded my napkin. I loved how Violet had blended perfectly into our family and made it her own. Chezzie had a way of highlighting all the positive sides of our past and keeping the dark secrets dead and buried where they belonged. I also appreciated the bond that my aunt had with Fiona’s little sister. She’d never been able to have children, and my father had made her boyfriends uncomfortable, at best. No one had been good enough for his little sister. Leo and I hadn’t been the only ones who’d suffered from his need to keep his family under his insistent thumb.

Fiona waited until everyone was served and we’d started eating before looking at me and saying, “So?”

“Sorry. Big nada for the moment. But the agency must have run a check on her, right?” I wiped my mouth and short beard with the cloth napkin.

“I think so.” Fiona cringed a little and Leo pounced.

“Fi, seriously?”

“I know. I’m sorry. But I liked her so much. She’s young and her dream is to live in New York.” Fiona’s whine was chipping away at my brother before our eyes. She continued, “And I need someone. Chezzie has a business to run. Those beautiful babies we made could come any day. I don’t want a snooty old lady looking down on me for how I change a diaper or swear in front of Violet. I want Megan.”

Leo closed his eyes and Chezzie shot me a glance to fix it, probably because she knew I could.

“I’ll fly out tomorrow. Leo, you stay close to home, and Jackson can handle the security detail solo for forty-eight hours. I will check out this Megan Walsh and report back. Happy?” I turned to Fiona and offered a small smile.

“Yes. Thank you.” Fiona beamed, Chezzie changed the subject and Leo discreetly flipped me off while pretending to scratch his ear.

As soon as dinner was finished, I excused myself to go home to prepare. I booked my plane ticket for the next day. For some ridiculous reason known only to the airline gods and their intelligent fuckery of how to make air travel the least enjoyable experience possible, I had to fly south to Charlotte in order to fly west to Iowa. That meant that my entire day would be wasted. But what was I going to do? Fiona had probably the closest thing to kids in her belly that I would ever have and was doing a stellar job of raising the little girl who had captured all our hearts. That bit of family, those Sunday dinners, they were the only things keeping me affixed to happy and normal. They were my reminder that my life had changed and needed to stay on its current path. There was no way I would lose them.

* * * *

When I woke up early and took a car to the airport, I was sure I was a sucker. And yet, somehow, I was glad to do it. During my three-hour layover in Charlotte, a place that couldn’t have been more random of a stop, I booked a cheap motel not far from Megan’s apartment. I’d decided to be business casual, but as soon as I got off the plane in Iowa, I knew I was still too conspicuous. It was a different world.

Cargo shorts and sports T-shirts accosted my eyes. Jesus, I’ll never fit in. I’d blended into dozens of cities around the globe over the years, but the Midwest was an entirely different playing field. I called Leo to let him know I’d landed but mostly to complain and make him feel guilty. What else are big brothers for? At the one open kiosk in the airport, I bought a yellow and black baseball hat and promptly planted it on my previously well-groomed head.

I got my rental car—a four-door sedan in a shade of gold that I was sure didn’t belong on an automobile—or anywhere, for that matter. I had about an hour’s drive north to Megan’s town. The sides of the highway were peppered with massive water towers and occasional farms backlit by the setting sun. The little towns I passed through were just that—little and gone in a blink. It was a completely different world, and I’d never felt so out of place.

At the motel, a middle-aged woman greeted me with a massive smile from behind the counter. Right… People were genuinely friendly—also new and foreign. I gave her my reservation number and she pulled it up on her screen as I got out my wallet.

“What brings you out to these parts, Mr. Ferris?” She glanced at my fake ID from Florida without suspicion.

“Work.” I tucked the ID back into its spot then waited with a tight smile that begged her not to pry further.

After a good night’s sleep with the occasional disturbance of an animal sound and not the restful hum of city traffic, I drove over to Megan’s apartment complex and parked on the street. The address said she was number one, which meant she had the corner unit. I rolled down the windows of the sedan, and the oppressive Midwest humidity settled in like a swamp. I brought my phone to my ear and pretended to be making a call while a sheriff’s cruiser pulled into the parking lot.

A petite brunette came out of the unit and locked her front door, checking the handle twice. That meant either OCD or nerves. Noted. She spun around and took a long blink when she spotted the cop. From inside his car, he pointed to his wristwatch and tapped twice before driving off.

What the hell?

The woman, who I was pretty sure was Megan, hurried to her car and climbed in. It made a horrible noise when she cranked the engine. I followed her to a mall, which was where she worked at a shoe store, and she rushed in.

It was exactly ten a.m.—interesting that she would wait until the last minute. I would have been fifteen minutes early. Then again, how many people are waiting to buy shoes first thing in the morning?

There was a huge department store attached to the mall and I went in to get a new wardrobe. In the public bathroom, I changed into khaki shorts, a plain cotton white V-neck and flip-flops. I stored my old clothes in the car and put on my new baseball hat for good measure.

I grabbed a soda from a pizza place—because I noticed everyone else was shopping with them—and headed to Burt’s Shoe Showroom. Megan was at the register checking her phone, and her dark hair covered her face. I meandered by the running shoes, sipping on my drink and examining random models.

Megan whimpered then tucked her phone into her back pocket before heading in my direction. I kept my eyes forward on the display until she said, “Anything I can help you with?” Her voice was sweet. Lord… It was so genuine that it took me off guard.

I looked over and was met with two beautiful green sparkling eyes. In the small picture, it was obvious that she was pretty, but up close? She was fucking beautiful—light skin with a little powdering of freckles, zero makeup and high cheekbones. I didn’t even know how to take her in. Her lips were the perfect shade of pink and had a slight pout. Damn.

“Sir?”

“I—” How was I at a loss for words? I was a grown man—a grown man staring at his brother’s potential nanny. I blinked hard. It was apparently the only thing I could do.

“Are you a runner?” she tried.

I managed to find a story somewhere. “Thinking of taking it up. What about you? You run?”

She let out a nervous laugh then blinked. “Is that an East Coast accent?”

“Yeah. In town for work.”

“Buying running shoes?” She lifted her eyebrows.

Fuck.