Even if I hadn't been crying, I'd have had no idea where I was going. I just kept sprinting until I ran out of steam, which was quicker than I'd have liked seeing as I'd cancelled my gym membership, then settled for walking quickly.

I'd known Nye had the power to hurt me, but I'd had no idea it would happen so soon.

How could I have been stupid enough to think he genuinely cared? Sophie and Maddie were both right—Nye had the handsome face, the hot body, and the decent job, all of which put him way out of my league. Mother might have wanted me to aim high, but right now, I couldn't even raise the gun.

What did I have to offer? A tumbledown cottage and a stalker. No wonder he thought I was worth laughing about.

Too late, I realised I'd left my bag in the kitchen at Blackwood. Not only was I hopelessly lost, I couldn't call a cab, and even if I managed to wave one down, I wouldn't be able to pay the driver.

Another block, and my tears of embarrassment and devastation turned to fear. Half of the street lights didn't work, and judging by the boarded-up house next to me, it wasn't such a good area. I passed by the entrance to a narrow alley and jumped as a plastic bag blew across in front of me. A straggly bush rustled in the breeze, stretching my nerves to breaking point.

Where was I? I looked for a street sign, but somebody had attacked it with graffiti. A dog barked in the house opposite just as a shadow flitted across the street. Was somebody there? I squinted into the gloom, but ominous shapes blurred together. The Big Bad Wolf. The Wicked Witch of the West. Bloody Edward and bloody Becki Harris.

I kept walking, my ballet pumps squeaking on the cracked paving slabs. A crowd of youths passed on the other side of the street, laughing and joking, and a couple stared across at me. Look away, Olivia. I kept my head down to avoid eye contact. As their shouts receded, the loudest sound was my own breathing, a rasp of desperation in the near darkness.

How could I get back? Even if I turned around, I doubted I'd remember the way, and I didn't want to see Nye in any case. A cat shot out of the shadows a foot away, and an involuntary squeal escaped my lips. Okay, facing Nye might have been the better option.

Footsteps sounded behind me, and I walked faster, on the verge of running now. But to where? The quiet slap of rubber soles on the pavement kept coming, and I glanced behind as a man with a dog walked under a street light. Out for an evening stroll? Or something else?

I was about to say "to hell with it" and break into a sprint when a car sped past and braked sharply in front of me. Nye leapt out of the back, and before I could instruct my feet to sprint, he'd grabbed my arm.

"Liv, what the fuck happened? Jannie said you shot out of the building like the fires of hell were after you."

Oh, thank goodness! Nye was here.

Actually no, this was terrible.

"You think I'm a joke," I blubbed, tears flowing again. Not that they'd ever really stopped.

"What? Why would I think that?"

"You saw that horrible video. The one of me at the cabaret."

He started laughing. "Babe, that video was hilarious."

"See, you're laughing."

He took both my hands in his. "When I saw that clip, I realised I'd finally found a woman who knew how to let her hair down and have a good time. The girls I dated in the past would have a single dry martini then switch to water to avoid extra calories, and they wanted to be in bed by ten so they could make their early morning spa appointments. I watched you, uh...sliding...and saw someone I wanted to get to know."

"But you showed everyone."

"Not exactly. I was running standard searches on the big screen, and the video came up. I tried to switch it off, but there'd have been a mutiny if I'd deprived the girls of, what was his name, Taurus? At least six of them have asked me if you can get his number."

"So they don't all think I'm an embarrassment?"

"They've been badgering me to invite you on their next night out. You're a legend in the office."

"Oh."

"'Oh' is right. Next time you decide to run off, would you mind taking your phone? It's easier to track that than send out a sniffer dog. Or better still, you could talk to me first?"

"I'm sorry."

"Come on, let's go back, eh?"

Nye helped me into the car, and I cuddled up against him, thankful for his arm around my shoulders. The driver had us back to the office in no time.

"How am I supposed to face people?" I asked Nye.

"Nobody judges here. Just be yourself."

I clung to Nye's hand while we went to collect my bag. Janelle was still there, and she handed it to me.

"Night, chicky. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." She gave me a wink.

"I hope you're going to be doing something Jannie wouldn't do," Nye whispered to me in the lift. "Or rather, someone."

Good grief, I'd need to wring my knickers out when we got back.

Except when Nye parked the car outside Lilac Cottage, the events of the day had caught up with me. I was vaguely aware of him lifting me out of the passenger seat and carrying me upstairs to bed.

Then nothing.

Nye's phone woke me in the morning, ringing on the nightstand. I'd fallen asleep in his arms, my back to his front, and something long and deliciously hard pressed into my bottom as he reached over to answer.

The conversation didn't make any sense as I only heard Nye's end—"Yeah... Yeah... Right... Yeah... Got it..."—but it was soon forgotten when he flipped me over to face him.

"I have morning breath."

I covered my mouth with my hand, but Nye nipped at my fingers until I moved it, then kissed me.

"Do I look bothered?" he asked when we came up for air. "I wanted to do that last night, but you were out of it."

The memory brought on another yawn, and I clapped a hand over my mouth again.

"That's the spirit, babe, open wide."

I closed it so fast my jaw cracked, and he laughed.

"So sweet."

I was still dressed, but Nye had taken off his shirt, and I ran a finger over his hard chest. Hey, I'd have challenged any girl to be greeted by that sight and keep her hands off. Or her tongue. On second thoughts, I wouldn't—they were mine.

I was just going in for a taste when I heard laughter. Where was it coming from? Not the TV—the screen was dark.

Movement over Nye's shoulder caught my eye, and I screamed before I realised it was only Spike hanging from a ladder outside. Nye leapt out of bed and yanked the curtains closed, shouting a few choice words at the locksmith-slash-burglar as he did so.

"Shit, Liv, I didn't know he was coming so early. That asshole's turning into a regular cock-blocker."

A month ago, I'd have been mortified, but after our talk last night, I saw the funny side. I started giggling, then that turned into full-blown laughter, and Nye joined in as he climbed back into bed beside me.

"At least we hadn't started anything," I spluttered.

He arched his hips into me. "Speak for yourself."

"Oh, hell. What should we, er, I mean, should we..."

He gave me a soft kiss. "Our first time will be special. Not some fumble with Spike six feet away. I'll take a cold shower."

He got up to do just that while I threw some fresh clothes on and made breakfast. After Maddie's concoctions and last night's aborted attempt at eating a sandwich, I was ravenous.

"I hope you like pancakes," I said to Nye when he got downstairs.

"I like anything you want to cook."

"Was the phone call earlier important?"

"The London office transferred the contents of the two laptops to the US, and they analysed them overnight. There was an interesting pattern."

He paused to drizzle maple syrup on his pancakes, and when he added lemon juice as well, my impatience got the better of me.

"And?"

"As I suspected, Eleanor had a whole host of poker accounts, but one of them kept cropping up. Every month, exactly two thousand pounds was deposited into it, and then that money was 'lost' to one of her other aliases and withdrawn via an eWallet."

"What does that mean? That she was still laundering money for someone?"

"It's possible, or she may have been fencing. The two thousand could have been her payment for services rendered."

"But you don't think it was?"

He shook his head. "The amount never changed, and there wasn't the pattern of large deposits you'd usually see with money laundering."

"Then what?"

"Regular payments like that? Month in, month out? My bet's on blackmail."

My jaw dropped. "Aunt Ellie was blackmailing someone?"

"Or Ronnie was. The payments started a couple of months before he went to prison. Eleanor could have just carried on with the collection process."

Burglary was one thing, but blackmail? That was a whole lot worse in my eyes. At least with burglary, the victim suffered one short, sharp shock. Blackmail could drag on for years and make a person's life unbearable.

"Who were they blackmailing?"

"I don't know yet. But when we track that person down, we might well find your mystery attacker."

"What if we can't work out who it is?"

"We will." Nye furrowed his brow as he pondered. "I don't think we can discount Larry, and I still want to look into Warren further. But this angle's promising. Blackmail brings out the worst in people, and Ronnie, assuming it was him, chose a smart amount. Your average person could live on two grand a month, but not so lavishly the transactions would arouse suspicion. And it's also low enough that even someone on a moderate income might scrabble around to cover the payments rather than have their secret get out."

"I still don't understand why the blackmailer didn't search the cottage years ago, or even threaten Eleanor to make her reveal where she'd hidden the...the thing. They don't seem averse to a bit of heavy-handedness."

"Because he didn't know it was her until recently." Nye ate another mouthful of pancake and chewed slowly. "That night in the pub where Graham was shooting his mouth about Eleanor and her online poker habit—I bet it was news to the culprit. When he goes to deposit more money in the account, he'll see the balance, and he'll know it hasn't been touched since the day she died. If I were a gambling man, I'd put a few quid on him realising that night who'd been conning him."

"But she's dead now. She's hardly going to ask for any more money, is she? So why does it matter? Why didn't the burglar just stop paying the money in and disappear?"

"This is about more than two grand a month. He's worried that whatever she had on him is still in this house, and you might find it."

That did make a certain amount of sense. "But how would I know if I found it when I haven't got a clue what it is?"

"Thanks to his persistence, we've got an idea now. It's something small that fitted in that padded envelope the vicar gave Eleanor. And whatever it is, it's also the key to something bigger."

"So now what?"

"Now, we look for it."