For eight years, single mother Grace Archer has been living a picture-perfect life raising her daughter on a horse farm in the small town of Tallanville, Alabama. Watching Frankie grow into a talented and confident young girl has made Grace as happy as any mother could hope to be. Happy enough, even, to forget the past. But the past never quite goes away. Which is why a certain charismatic man also moved to Tallanville eight years ago to watch over her. But when violence threatens to shatter Grace and Frankie's idyllic home, the waiting is over. The ghosts of the past have returned. And they're hungry for blood. Now Grace must resume an identity she thought she had cast off forever, and match wits with an opponent as deadly as he is cunning. The prize: an extraordinary secret that only she can unfold. The forfeit: losing the thing more precious to her than life itself. "Johansen blends action, suspense and family values.... Readers may expect a sequel."-- Publishers Weekly “[A] suspense story with feminine appeal!”-- OK! Magazine Iris Johansen  is the  New York Times  bestselling author of many novels, including  Killer Dreams, On the Run, Countdown, Firestorm, Fatal Tide, Dead Aim,  and  No One to Trust.  She lives near Atlanta, Georgia. 1 El Tariq, Morocco Get the bastard! He's trapped." The hell he was, Kilmer thought savagely as he gunned the jeep up the hill. He wasn't about to let them catch him when he'd come this far. A bullet tore past his ear and splintered the windshield. Too close. They were gaining on him. He put his foot on the brake and slowed the jeep down. He swerved around a curve in the road, braced himself, and then jumped into a mud-and-sand-filled ditch at the side of the road. Christ, that hurt. Ignore it. He rolled over and dashed into the brush, watching the jeep roll driverless away from him and then veer toward the edge of the road. With any luck they'd think that shot had struck him and not try to analyze why the jeep appeared uncontrolled. Now wait for the truck pursuing him. He didn't have to wait long. The Nissan truck roared around the curve. Two men in the cab. Three in the open back of the truck. The man on the right side of the back was the one with the rifle. He was aiming at the jeep again. Let them get a little nearer . . . They were passing him. Now! He stepped out of the brush and threw the grenade he'd pulled out of his backpack. He hit the dirt as the grenade struck the truck and exploded. A second explosion rocked the ground as the gas tank of the truck blew. His head lifted. The truck was a blackened, flaming ruin; smoke was curling up toward the sky. And that smoke would be seen for miles. Move! He jumped to his feet and started to run toward the glade at the top of the hill. It took him five minutes to reach it and he was hearing the roar of vehicles behind him when he burst into the glade where the helicopter was hidden. Donavan started the rotors whirling as he caught sight of Kilmer. "Go!" Kilmer dove into the passenger seat. "Stay away from the road before going south. You might get a bullet in the gas tank." "I thought from the explosion that you'd taken care of that problem." Donavan lifted off. "Grenade?" Kilmer nodded. "But there may be more than one truck this time. The first thing they'll do is check the safe when they see that smoke and then they'll call out every man at the compound." "So I see." Donavan whistled as he saw the line of trucks on the road below. "And one of them has a ground-to-air missile launcher. We'd better get the hell out of this airspace before they spot us. Did you get it?" "Oh, yes." Kilmer gazed down at the jeweled and embroidered velvet pouch dangling from the gold chain he'd pulled out of his belt pack. The blue sapphire eyes of the two horses whose images were imprinted on the pouch glittered back at him. Deadly. So beautiful. So deadly. He'd already killed seven men today alone to gain possession. Why didn't he feel triumphant? Perhaps because he realized that those lives would probably be only the start of the chaos to follow. "Yes, I got it, Donavan." Tallanville, Alabama Talk to him, Frankie," Grace said as she stroked the horse's muzzle. "When you get to the barrier, lean down and tell him what you want him to do." "And he'll balk just the same." Frankie made a face. "Horses may understand you, but I'm chopped liver to them." "You don't know until you try. Darling is just having a battle of wills with you. You can't let him have the upper hand." "I don't care, Mom. I don't have to be boss. If Darling was a keyboard instead of a horse, I might want to assert myself, but I--" She gazed at Grace's face and then sighed. "Okay, I'll do what you say. But he's going to toss me." "If he does, then fall right, the way I taught you. And then get on him again." She paused. "Don't you know how much it scares me to have you fall? But you love to ride and it was your choice to compete in this