Serial Bride by Ann Voss Peterson

streaming tendrils. He raised the collar of his overcoat and slipped a hand into a pocket, touching the grip of his SIG-Sauer pistol.
    He couldn’t quite believe the path his life had taken over the past ten hours. Not only had he broken the law twice—first by removing evidence from Diana Gale’s apartment and now by walking around with a gun in his pocket—but tonight with Sylviesomething had stirred inside him that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He wanted to take his time, examine what that something between them was, what it might lead to. But he didn’t see how. Not with Sylvie so worried about her sister. Not when he, too, needed to keep Ty and Diana foremost in his mind.
    He took a deep breath, wanting to breathe in her spicy sweet scent instead of just the cold wind.
    â€œWhich direction do you think he’ll come from? The road?”
    â€œMost likely.” Especially if he was looking to grab Sylvie. He’d need a car.
    Bryce turned his back to the water and studied the curved white concrete layers of the convention center terrace, parking structure and ground-level parking lot. Even at this hour, an occasional car whizzed past on John Nolen Drive, its headlights illuminating the tunnel under the structure. “He could be watching us from anywhere. On top of the terrace. The parking ramp. Hell, he could even be up in the hotel with a pair of binoculars.”
    â€œOr in one of the Dumpsters or loading bays?” She gestured to the service area at the base of the convention center.
    â€œNow you’re talking. Name the most places he could be and win a prize.” He tried to inject levity into his voice, but the attempt fell flat, his worry winning out.
    â€œWhat if he thinks you’re a cop? Maybe that’s why he hasn’t shown up yet. Maybe I should have met him alone.”
    â€œHe knows I’m not a cop. Whoever he is, he knew where you were staying.”
    â€œAnd the only way he could know that is if he was watching me,” she finished.
    â€œRight.” Bryce had never realized he had a sense for such things, but right this minute he was sure they were being watched. Maybe by Red, maybe by whoever had followed Sylvie into the hospital stair well, maybe by someone of whom they were totally unaware. But someone was watching them right now. He’d swear to it. “Let’s move somewhere a little less exposed. Come on.” He brushed her arm with his fingertips, guiding her down the path toward the convention center.
    Once they’d slipped into the shelter of the convention center, she folded her arms over her chest. “Will he be able to see us here?”
    â€œNo one should be able to see us, that’s the point. We were sitting ducks out there.”
    â€œIf you’re trying to frighten me into leaving, it won’t work.”
    â€œYou have good reason to be frightened.”
    â€œI didn’t say I wasn’t frightened. Just that I’m not leaving. Not until I’m certain he’s not going to show.”
    He didn’t even try to hide his smile. “You sure are a lot tougher than you look.”
    â€œDamn straight. And I always have been. At least, that’s what my first foster mother always said.”
    So she’d been this determined even as a kid. Not surprising. Grit didn’t just magically appear when one needed it. You either had it or you didn’t. “What inspired her to say that?”
    â€œMy heart wasn’t fully developed when I was born. Surgery and time took care of the problem, but I was pretty sick for a few years.”
    â€œSo that’s why you ended up in foster care while your sister was adopted.”
    â€œThere aren’t a lot of families who want to take a chance on a toddler with heart problems.”
    She might have had heart problems as a child, but there was nothing less than fully developed about Sylvie’s heart now. Just seeing how