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chopped short. When her hair reached to her shoulders, like now, it took time and patience to keep it under control. Those were two items she did not have in abundance while working with Locke. When it came down to beauty versus achievement, her career had won. She’d marched into a salon and had her waist-length hair cut.
    Reaching into her duffle bag, she found her brush. She had nothing but time tonight. Her hair was in that very light brown category that didn’t quite qualify as dirty blonde. Paul had always called it honey. When she took the time to brush it out, it would turn into soft bounces and waves.
    He’d loved her hair…
    She could almost feel the brush of his hand on her neck. He lifted her hair and nuzzled her throat. A tiny ripple of sensation went down her body as her memory ignited the passion that plagued her like a curse. She fluffed a hand through her drying hair, and her nipples tingled. Sometimes she could almost touch his image as it held her in her slumber. She’d never been a true believer of hauntings or the supernatural, but now she faced the fact that some things or people did hang on to the living. Paul was so real in her life. It had to be more than just the love of an eighteen-year-old girl. That, or she was emotionally scarred and hiding from the big bad real world.
    At least being stalked by a ghost sounded better. But it made sense too. Paul had never been patient. It didn’t matter what age was on his driver’s license, he’d been a fully grown man. One hard kiss had knocked her flat. Their wedding night had obliterated her rosy vision of soft romance completely as she clung to the hard body of her husband. A tiny stain of red crept across her cheeks as she recalled the way her skin had leapt under his touch.
    Mine …
    He’d whispered the single word against her neck and a hundred other places while he claimed every inch of her flesh. Commanded was actually a better word. Her body had been a prize he’d claimed. Heat flowed into her lower body as she tossed the brush back into her duffle bag and forced her brain to think about more sedate things. Like Kent. The deputy was cast from a similar mold as Paul had been. Full of command, they demanded compliance from everyone and thing around them. Men like that didn’t see any middle ground. But there was nothing irresistible about him, unless you counted the urge she had to shoot him when he was trying to follow her to the toilet.
    At least it looked like she was only prey to one ultra-male, Paul. That weakness could be covered up, savored in the dead of night, but neatly shuffled aside while life went on. Kent didn’t need to know she was still in love with her dead husband, no one needed to know she couldn’t let go.
    A sharp rap on the bathroom door indicated her time was up. Jo swung the duffle bag up onto her good shoulder as she reached for the doorknob. Her fingers made the briefest of contact before the door pushed inward, causing her to jump out of the way. She narrowed her eyes in annoyance.
    “You guys need to relax.”
    Her wrist was gripped and her body pulled through the open doorway. The rough handling set her temper on edge. The scathing comment Jo had been contemplating died a sudden death as she came to a stop a bare foot from someone’s chest. Her gaze traveled up the man’s torso to his face. Her head was tipped back as far as possible. The man was quite simply a giant. Jo would guess his height to be somewhere just shy of seven feet.
    “Deputy Jolene Benate?”
    Jo stepped back but collided with another body. Snapping her head around to investigate her newest threat, she found the room occupied by two more men. Kent stared at her from behind those two men, his face a mask of fury. The light bounced off the polished muzzles of handguns that were pointed at his chest.
    “Answer the question, ma’am.”
    Panic quickly attempted to tighten its grip around Jo, but she forced it aside. Her gaze moved over the