Warren. I still didn't know what to believe. Nye had spent most of the night on the phone, asking questions and organising another surveillance team, and I'd barely slept a wink.

The tiredness showed as we ate breakfast. Nye's stubble had gone well past a five o'clock shadow, and I'd been wearing the same pair of leggings for two days.

"Do you think it was Warren who broke in?" I asked.

Nye stared into his coffee—already on his second cup before we'd started work. "Circumstantial evidence suggests it could well be, but until we get something concrete or he admits it, we can't be sure. I've got a team working around the clock on it. We're checking his alibi for each of the incidents, but seeing as he's self-employed, it's hard to pin down his whereabouts at each particular time."

My earlier feelings of guilt came creeping back. "Nye, how much is this costing?"

"Don't worry about that. At Blackwood, we all help each other out, and at some point, I'll have to return a few favours, but it's worth it to see you safe."

"I'd like to do something to thank everyone too. Perhaps I could bake some cakes?"

"I'm sure they'd love that, babe."

The front door slammed, signalling the arrival of today's team of reinforcements. "Did you give everybody keys?"

"Nah, I took the deadbolt off when I came downstairs, so they just pick the lock."

This new life I'd fallen into certainly was different. None of Edward's friends knew how to pick a lock. The one time Edward managed to lock himself out of his house, on a Sunday evening, no less, he'd had to call the emergency locksmith and spent the next week moaning about the cost.

"Hey! We've come to help."

A girl's voice I didn't recognise echoed through the flat, and seconds later, a young brunette bounced into the kitchen. Nye groaned, and she pressed the corners of his mouth into a smile with her fingertips.

"Don't be such a misery guts. Where do we start?"

"We start by leaving me in peace to finish my coffee. I've been up half the night."

"Max said you caught the asshole?" She jerked her head at the man who'd appeared behind her in the doorway, a Chinese guy who would have been handsome if he'd smiled.

"We caught someone. Not sure if it's the right man. Olivia, this is Tia. She's a friend of Emmy's, and she likes to stop by and annoy everyone from time to time."

Tia stepped forward and surprised me with a hug. "I also live in Lower Foxford, so I thought I'd come and give you a hand. Well, I sort of live there. I've mostly moved to the US now." She turned back to Nye. "So, who'd you catch? Do I know them?"

Nye shrugged. "Warren Hannigan."

"The taxi driver?"

"Yeah."

"Seriously? Warren?"

"The surveillance team found him in Olivia's garden last night, plus he's been in trouble over a woman before."

"The Claire Downing thing?"

"You've heard about that?"

"Everybody at my old school knew." She shook her head and tutted. "Claire's such a bitch."

Nye raised an eyebrow. "Really? She made some very serious allegations."

"And it backfired when she realised the police needed, like, you know, evidence."

"You think she made the story up?"

"Claire's sister Marianne told my friend Arabella that Claire's boyfriend flipped out when he found a used pregnancy test in her bathroom bin when they hadn't even slept together yet. So, rather than admit she'd cheated, she told him Warren took advantage of her while she modelled for one of his paintings."

"Shit."

"Yes, it was. We felt sorry for Warren, and Arabella's brother, Mark, is a cop in London, so she told him what Marianne said. He had a word with Claire, and she dropped the charges."

"The local policeman doesn't have a record of any of that."

"Graham? He's an idiot. But Warren's nice. Once, Arabella and I bought too many drinks in town and didn't have enough money for the cab fare home, so he drove us for free." She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Don't tell my brother that, okay? He doesn't know."

"Your secret's safe. Dammit, I was ninety percent sure Warren was our man, but that throws more doubt in. Have you got Mark's number?"

"I can get it. Is that coffee? I could do with a cup before we start on this tidying, searching, whatever."

With the news from Tia, I felt both anxious and relieved. Relieved that my instincts about Warren hadn't been totally wrong, and anxious because if Warren wasn't the culprit, the man was still out there somewhere, watching us and plotting.

And Nye still had his doubts.

"Who checks on a woman in the dark without calling to warn her first?" he muttered in the evening. "We're running out of surveillance teams."

"Someone might be a teensy bit jealous," Tia whispered to me as Nye took a phone call.

"You think? But I never even went out for dinner with Warren when he asked." Although that was mainly because of Tate, admittedly. If Warren had invited me again and Nye hadn't been on the scene, I'd have been buying another new frock.

She shrugged. "Nye can see that you still like him, which I get. He was always kind, but..."

"But?"

"The garden thing is a bit weird." She shuddered. "And I found out first-hand the consequences of men skulking around the Foxfords in the dark."

Before I could ask her to elaborate on what she meant, Nye hung up and wrapped an arm around my waist.

"We need to call it a day. Most of us have got an early meeting in the office tomorrow, but we'll finish off the rest tomorrow afternoon."

At least that would give me the morning to catch up on work. "What about all the stuff out in the trucks? We need to put that back."

"I asked around, and the farmer down the road's diversified and converted one of his barns into storage units. I've rented you one for six months so we can put all the crap there instead." He pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. "Then you can make this place into a proper home."

Nye got me. He just got me, and that was the moment I realised my heart was in big trouble. The "L" word fluttered around in my throat. Too soon. Much too soon.

"Thank you. You have no idea how much that means."

His eyes hooded, and I wasn't imagining the fire smouldering beneath the half-closed lids.

"You can show me later," he whispered, too quietly for anyone else to hear.

"How quickly can we get these people to leave?"

He chuckled and gifted me one of those smiles that made me melt. "I'd better make them coffee for the drive back."

"I can do that, and dinner too. If you could just hurry up the rest..."

"Okay, babe, I get the hint." He pulled me close and kissed me, ignoring the whistles from the doorway. "You're mine tonight. Nothing's gonna stop us this time."

I hadn't been jittery last night, when things had just happened, but tonight, I grew ever more apprehensive as I picked at the pasta I'd made us for dinner. What if I didn't measure up to the girls in Nye's past? With his looks and that damn motorbike, he must have had a few. Didn't he say they were socialites? How long before the novelty of being with a girl who didn't even need alcohol to make bad decisions wore off? And if...

"More wine?"

"Huh?"

Nye gestured at my glass. "You've just drunk it all."

Oh. Oops. "I guess."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

He kept staring at me, and I realised seeing a detective had its disadvantages. "I'm nervous, okay?"

"About the stalker? I'll keep you safe."

"Not him... Tonight... I, uh..."

Nye pushed his chair back, and two seconds later, I was in his arms. When he kissed me, my insecurities faded away, and all I felt was him. Every last inch.

"Want to forget the rest of dinner?" he asked.

"Who needs dessert anyway?"

"I'm not planning to skip dessert. She's standing in front of me."

He carried me up the stairs again, and this time I was the one who pulled his shirt off as we got into the bedroom. I'd worn a T-shirt with no fiddly buttons this time, and it only took him a second to return the favour.

"Fuck me, Liv."

Nye's eyes widened as he hooked his thumbs in my waistband and peeled my trousers down. Okay, I might have worn that fancy underwear with the little bows too.

And I'd got used to his crude words, enjoyed his dirty talk, even.

"Make it hard," I whispered.

He guided my hand downwards. "Not a problem."

Then his damned phone rang.

"Can't you leave it?"

"Not this time, babe. It's the control room."

It only took a second before he was reaching for his shirt again, and I lay back on the bed and groaned. Would I ever get a proper taste of Nye?

"One of Spike's sensors just went off. I need to check it."

"You're going out there?"

"Don't worry—it's probably just a fox."

Chills replaced the heat I'd felt only moments ago, and my heart didn't just race, it pounded in a series of wild palpitations as Nye did his jeans up.

He grabbed my phone from the nightstand and pressed it into my hands. "Stay here, and if you hear anything you don't like, I've programmed Blackwood's control room as speed dial one. Call them, then the police."

"Please don't go."

"I'll be right back."

He hadn't even got to the stairs when I heard a window break downstairs, followed by a soft whump. Then another window, and another. Nye came running back in and slammed the door.

"What's happened? Is somebody down there?"

"Worse. Molotov cocktails, three of them. Lounge, dining room, and kitchen by the sounds of it. We'll have to go out the window."

I tore the curtains open and saw flames leaping into the darkness—both trucks were on fire too.

Nye leaned past and threw the window open. Acrid smoke drifted inside, burning the back of my throat and making me cough.

"I'll climb down first," he told me. "Then I need you to wriggle out backwards and hang from the windowsill. When I tell you, let go, and I'll catch you."

I should have been terrified, but there was no time to think. Nye shinned down the old wisteria tree like a monkey, then landed safely next to the overgrown flower bed. Then it was my turn.

I used the dressing table to boost myself up onto the windowsill, but as I looked down, the fear hit. The ground looked an awfully long way away.

"Turn around, Liv," Nye shouted.

"I-I-I can't."

"Babe, you can. I'll catch you, I promise."

I shuffled around onto my knees, clinging to the scarred wooden frame as if my life depended on it. Which it did. Tendrils of smoke curled under the bedroom door, creeping towards me, and I knew there was no other way out. Knuckles white, I lowered myself off the edge.

"Let go, Liv." Nye's voice sounded above the crackling fire, and I released my grip.

I couldn't have been falling for more than a second or two, but it felt a lot longer before his arms flew around my waist and stopped me inches from the ground.

"We need to move. Quickly!"

He half carried me, and we ran for the edge of the garden as the fuel tank on the closest truck exploded, sending a ball of flame skywards. Fire had consumed the entire cottage in Upper Foxford's version of Armageddon. It seemed Aunt Ellie hadn't heard of flame-retardant furniture.

"Are you hurt?" Nye asked, patting me down to check for injuries.

"I'm fine," I lied, right before my knees gave out.

Nye kept me upright as sirens pierced the night, the emergency services rushing to save something I knew was already a lost cause.