A/N: Sequel to Press & Predators. Though the wedding is only a month away, the Hardy brothers and their fiancées find themselves embroiled in the twenty-year-old cold case of Nancy's mother's death. Separate but completely intertwined paths lead Frank and Nancy to join Joe and Vanessa in Ithaca, NY where they unearth a web of exploitation, extortion and murder that crosses generations.

A big thanks to my beta, Josie!

And as usual, I forgot the disclaimers. Nope, don't own them. If I did, I would be highly unlikely to publish my stories here - lol! ) Happy reading!

Prologue: Nightmares & Needs

"No!"

Frank Hardy woke with a start and stared at the ceiling, chest heaving and heart thudding uncomfortably. For several seconds he tried to sort out what had awakened him. Who had shouted? Turning his head, he found his fiancée, Nancy Drew staring at him, blue eyes tight with worry.

"Another nightmare?" She asked.

He willed himself to calm down, realizing it had been his own yell that had jolted him awake. Vivid images from the nightmare played through his mind. He couldn't seem to stop them. He knew that what frightened him more than anything was that he couldn't figure out how to keep the nightmare from becoming an eventual reality – a horrible, heart-wrenching, devastating reality. The logical part of his brain slowly took over - there had to be a way to make certain that didn't happen.

"Frank? Are you ok?"

He could hear the edge of alarm in Nancy's voice but he wasn't sure he trusted himself to answer her. At first he had been able to shrug off the nightmares. But over the last few weeks they had worsened to the point that Nancy had become insistent that he needed to talk about it. The problem was that if he put his fears into words it would turn them from shadows into stark realities.

Rolling closer, he enveloped Nancy in his arms. As he buried his face in the curve of her neck he managed a muffled, "I'm ok."

Her arms circled his shoulders and Nancy filled his senses, her presence calming him as the last of the nightmare faded. But it didn't disappear. It never did, not totally, not anymore.

For several minutes they just held each other. Nancy's cool hands moved in soothing patterns across the over-heated skin of his back. His breathing and heart rate returned to a more normal rhythm as the nightmare faded into the background, overshadowed by the calming and very tangible presence of the woman he loved.

Her touch worked its usual magic, distracting his mind with the near-bliss of arousal. He allowed himself to indulge in her, caressing her bare skin with hands and lips until he could feel her heart racing under his touch. He was unaware of how long they played, the love-making mutual and satisfying.

Afterward, they lay tangled together in the sheets, neither willing to fully break the connection which went beyond the physical to a spiritual oneness that was at once fulfilling and frightening. The soul-satisfying companionship he shared with Nancy – that was what made the nightmare so terrifying.

"Frank, I . . ." Nancy's voice was tentative and he could hear the lingering worry in her tone.

"I'm alright, Nan. Really." He flashed her a grin. "Especially now."

She propped herself up on an elbow, her gaze intense. "No, Frank, you aren't alright. And I don't know how to help because you refuse to talk about it."

He clamped his mouth shut. He should have known better than to hope that he could escape this argument tonight. Nancy was persistent. It was one of the things he admired about her. With the persistence directed at him though, it could be trying.

"It's just a nightmare," he said flatly.

"A nightmare that wakes you up nearly every night lately, Frank. That is not normal."

"I'm fine."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

He consciously squelched the impulse to pull away from her. The warmth and vibrancy of her touch were the only things grounding him right now. Away from her the nightmare waited. So instead he pulled her closer.

"Does it really make a difference, Nan?"

"I'm sorry. It's just . . . I'm worried about you. If you won't talk to me. . . it's fine. But you need to talk to someone."

He looked into her face, smoothing a thumb over the worry lines creasing her forehead and wishing it was as simple to ease her mind. He knew what she wanted.

"I'll call Dr. Chase tomorrow and make an appointment. Would that make you feel better? I'm headed to the east coast next week anyway."

Her responding smile was well worth the concession and he felt his own lips turn up in response. He loved to see her smile.

"Thank you," she murmured, laying a hand on his cheek. "I just want you to be happy, again."

"You always make me happy, sweetheart."