Heart of the Night. Lenora Worth

to see if it’s been compromised.”

      “He does that routinely. How can that help?”

      “Well, now, he’ll do an extra check just for good measure. Devon knows ways to find out things no one would think to look for and it’ll be much more discreet for him to do it from a long-distance location.” He glanced toward where the car he’d seen earlier was still parked at the other cottage. “Looks like your boarders are settled in and back from breakfast.”

      Gena glanced around. “I hadn’t even noticed. I left them a key at the door. They weren’t sure when they’d get here.”

      “Well, they must have come in the middle of the night.” He gave her a direct stare. “We’ll need to do a more in-depth background check on them, too.”

      Gena couldn’t believe this. “They’re just a young couple from New York.”

      “And they drove up to Maine because?”

      “That’s their business.”

      “Criminals come in all shapes and sizes, Gena.”

      She couldn’t read his expression. “Is there more here?”

      He shook his head. “Not for now. We’ll just have to watch and wait.”

      “Easy for you to say. It’s close to Christmas, Eli, and tomorrow is Scotty’s birthday and the Christmas play at the church. How can I relax when I’m so worried?”

      He turned to her, his skin flushed from the cold, his dark hair swirling around his face and neck. He had the blackest eyes, unreadable and bottomless, sometimes cold and calculating, sometimes warm and liquid. “Let’s keep things cool for Scotty’s sake, okay? You’ll get your postcard-perfect Christmas.” He turned toward the house.

      “I don’t want a perfect Christmas. I want a safe one. I want my son safe. Can you promise me that?”

      He stopped, looking at her with such intensity that Gena took a step back. “That’s why I’m here. We can agree on that, at least.”

      

      It was Christmas Eve. Scotty’s birthday—or rather, the day Gena celebrated his birthday.

      Eli trudged across the snow toward the warmth of Gena’s cottage, his gaze encompassing the yard and woods as a frigid dusk settled over the land. The snowman Scotty and he had built stood fat and formidable, wearing a black muffler and an old battered baseball cap. Noting the young couple’s car was gone from next door, he wondered when he’d hear anything back from Kissie on their background. On the surface, Craig and Marcy Bennett looked as all-American and squeaky clean as a toothpaste ad. They took long walks along the bluffs, holding hands and cooing sweet nothings in each other’s ears and they waved to Eli in passing. Mostly they kept to themselves. Perfectly normal activities for a young married couple in love.

      Too perfect. Too normal. Eli didn’t like the perfection of it all.

      “You’re scowling,” Gena said as he opened the door and entered the kitchen, rubbing his hands together as the heat hit him.

      “I hate snow and cold,” he retorted to hide his concerns.

      “We all get that, Eli,” she replied with a wry smile. “Can’t you fake it for Scotty’s sake at least?” She pointed to the cake she’d baked earlier. “It’s a celebration. But first we’re off to the Christmas Eve play at church.”

      Eli took in the “Happy Birthday, Scotty” lettering on the big cake. “I thought I’d skip the play.”

      “You have to go, Mr. Eli,” Scotty said from his spot at the arched doorway. “I’m playing a sheep.”

      Eli looked from Gena to his son. “I didn’t see you there, petit peu.”

      Gena shot Eli a daring glance. “We’d like you to go to church with us tonight.”

      Eli knew a feminine command when he heard one. And how could he refuse either of them? “Okay, then. I guess that particular problem is settled. I’ll be on my best behavior, sitting in the very front pew.”

      Scotty giggled. “You’ll see me up close in my sheep costume. Mama made it and it tickles our noses.”

      Eli touched a finger to Scotty’s nose, giving it his own tickle. “Do you get to go ‘Baahhh’?”

      Another giggle. “Nope. I just stand there, watching over Baby Jesus.”

      “And you sing songs to praise Him,” Gena reminded him.

      “That’s right.” Scotty rushed to the table. “Wow, chocolate cake. My favorite.” Turning to Eli, he held up his fingers. “I’m six today.”

      “Hard to imagine,” Eli said, sinking down in a chair as his legs became weak. This kind of love could do that to a man: bring him to his knees. “You’re growing up right before my eyes.”