by Cynthia Eden
Eve knew he thought his words would make her feel better. She actually didn’t care if a hundred people were in there. She was sure her knees would still be shaking no matter what.
“Wade’s an ex-Atlanta police detective,” Gabe continued softly. She wondered if he was just talking in an attempt to distract her from her fear. If so . . . keep talking. Maybe that strategy would work. “He and I are also old friends. When I opened LOST, I knew I had to bring him on board.”
“Old friends?” Now he had made her curious. She wanted to know as much as she could about Gabe.
He nodded. “We met in the third grade. He, hell, once upon a time, the guy had a serious crush on my little sister.”
There was a quick knock at the door.
“You ready for this?” Gabe asked her.
No. Not even a little bit, but Eve nodded.
“Come in,” Gabe called.
The door opened. She expected it would be Pierce Montgomery. Instead, Wade Monroe stood on the threshold. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with golden eyes—deep, sharp eyes that reminded her of a jungle cat. His hair was dark and a little long, and his face looked as if it had been carved from stone. Seeing him just made Eve tense even more.
“Gabe.” Wade inclined his head, then advanced. When he entered the room, she saw the man who’d been waiting behind him.
Not as tall as Wade or Gabe, the man in the doorway had a golden, sun-kissed tan. He was fit, but with more of a casual strength than with Gabe’s steely muscles. His hair was blond and cut to fall perfectly around his face. And his face was classically perfect. High cheekbones. Square jaw. Green eyes.
Eyes that were on her.
And as he stared at her, some of that golden glow seemed to leave his skin.
The man took one tentative step toward her. “Jessica?”
She wanted to squeeze Gabe’s hand, but not because she recognized the blond male before her. Just because she was terrified.
The guy advanced toward her with slow, halting steps. Eve straightened her shoulders and tried to look less terrified than she felt. The man wore a suit that fit his body, as if it had been cut just for him. It probably was.
She was wearing her worn high heels and the best clothes that she owned—the same clothes she’d worn when she first met Gabe.
“Pierce Montgomery?” Gabe said, his voice making her jump, then slid partially in front of her. “I’m Gabe Spencer. Thank you for coming in to see me today.”
Pierce was craning his neck so he could still stare at Eve, but he quickly shook Gabe’s hand. “After the call I received from your man there . . .” He nodded his head toward the ever watchful Wade. “. . . how could I stay away?”
Eve kept staring at him, searching for some familiar sign, but she saw nothing. Their hair was the same shade of blond. But their eyes were two different greens. Her gaze was a deep, dark green. And his was light, almost a blue-green.
Gabe turned to glance back at her. There was worry in his stare. She notched up her chin. I’m okay.
His fingers squeezed hers.
She didn’t squeeze back.
Slowly, his left hand slid away from hers.
“This is the lady Wade told you about . . .” And he stepped to the side so Pierce Montgomery would be able to see her fully.
Pierce sucked in a quick breath. “The resemblance is . . . remarkable.” He stared at her as if she were some bug under a microscope. His gaze slid over her, inch by slow inch. From the top of her hair . . .
“Her hair is a bit longer than Jessica’s . . . Jessica always liked to keep hers right at her shoulders . . . and the shade is a bit darker . . .”
. . . to her face.
“The eyes . . . they look like Jessica’s . . .” Pain roughened his voice then. He cleared his throat. Lifted his hand as if he’d touch her, but then his fingers fisted.
“Th-The height is right, but she’s . . . thinner than Jessica. Jessica never liked model chic.” His lips lifted then and his green eyes warmed a bit. “She said she’d rather have her burgers and her curves, and men who liked stick figures could kiss her ass.”
Eve swallowed. Am I her?
His smile faded. “Jessica?” He leaned toward her.
Eve found herself leaning back, away from him.
“Do you . . . do you remember me?” Pierce asked softly as his gaze searched hers.
Sadly, she shook her head. “I—I don’t.”
He stiffened. “Say something else.”
“I don’t remember you. I don’t remember anything about my life before I woke up in that hospital.”
He stepped back, a quick, fast move. “Her voice is wrong. Everything else . . . it could be her, but the voice is wrong. Too husky. Jessica didn’t sound like that.” He gave a hard, jerking shake of his head. “Jessica didn’t sound like that.”
Wade moved from his position near the door, a small ripple of his shoulders that drew her gaze because she was frantic to look away from Pierce. He’s saying that I’m not his sister.
“In Eve’s medical file,” Gabe said softly, “the doctor noted that she’d suffered bruising and a deep laceration on her neck.”
Her hand rose. Traced the scar. Pierce’s eyes followed that movement. Sympathy flashed on his face.
“There were also . . . nodules discovered on her vocal cords. The doctors said she’d endured some damage to her vocal cords. Damage that could come,” Gabe’s own voice lowered, “from excessive screaming.”
Eve flinched, but she’d heard those words before. When she first woke in the hospital, she’d barely been able to speak at all. Her voice had improved, and she’d thought it was perfect again.
It’s not perfect to him. Because it wasn’t her voice. Jessica’s.
“A DNA test can settle this,” Wade announced as he marched toward Gabe’s desk.
“I told you . . .” Pierce’s gaze was still on her face. “I don’t have any of my sister’s belongings. Keeping them was too painful. I don’t have any of her DNA that you can use for a match.”
“We have you, Ace,” Wade said, and slapped Pierce on the shoulder. “We can compare you and Eve to see—”
“Jessica Montgomery was not my biological sister.”
Eve shook her head. What?
“She was adopted.” His lips tightened. “I was four when my parents brought her home. A perfect, blond-haired, green-eyed girl, as if they’d ordered her off a menu.” Anger hummed in those words. “Another accessory for them . . .”
Adopted.
“My parents died ten years ago. Their boat sank on a trip to the Keys. It’s just been me and Jessica since then.” He retreated a bit more. Shook his head. “Though it was really just the two of us all our lives, anyway. Me and Jess. Us against the world.” There was so much grief in his voice that she ached for him.
But she didn’t know him. Didn’t recognize anything at all about him.
“I wanted to walk in and call you a fraud.” His words were stark and his gaze seemed tortured. “And I wanted to walk in and call you . . . my sister.” He yanked a hand over his face. “But I don’t know. I. Don’t. Know.”
Eve didn’t speak. What did she have to say? Welcome to my world. I wake up every day not knowing.
“Her birth mother,” Wade said suddenly. “If you have her adoption records, we can find her. We can get DNA to—”
“I have no records for my sister’s adoption.” Pierce’s shoulders slumped. “I have nothing at all of her anymore. It was all too painful. Looking at it all just reminded me of what I’d lost. What that bastard out there took.”
Her heart was racing in her chest. Her palms were sweating, and her breath came far too quickly.
“May I . . . may I touch you?” Pierce asked her.
Gabe stiffened. “Look, I don’t think—”
“Yes,” Eve said. Because maybe she’d feel something. Maybe his touch would make her remember. Spark an image. Create a connection.
His hands were
shaking a bit when he touched her cheek. His touch was cool. Light.
And she felt nothing.
“You could be her,” he whispered, the words ragged. “And I should know, shouldn’t I? I should know my sister.” He swallowed, and the faint click was almost painful to hear. “But I don’t.”
The office door flew open behind him.
Gabe surged forward. “This is a private meeting—”
“Sorry, Gabe.” It was Sarah, her cheeks flushed and her voice sounding too high. “But there’s a news story that just came on the air. I thought you needed to hear about it.”
“We’re in a meeting, Sarah. I’ll be right out—”
“It’s about her shelter.”
She saw Gabe’s shoulders stiffen. “What about it?”
Sarah’s stare edged toward Eve. “A man was killed there last night. An ex–army officer named Pauley McIntyre—”
“Pauley?” Eve broke away from Pierce and all but ran to Sarah. She grabbed onto the other woman’s arms. “Someone hurt Pauley?”
Eve realized that Sarah was watching her too carefully. Almost assessing her. Isn’t that what she always does?
She shook the woman. “Pauley!” her voice snapped out. The woman could assess her later.
Sarah blinked. “He was stabbed last night. The police think it was a robbery gone wrong.”
No. That made no sense. “Pauley didn’t have anything a robber would take.” She yanked her hands away from Sarah, too aware of a sharp, blinding pain in her chest. In her heart. “Pauley . . . Pauley guarded the shelter.”
He was always on guard.
Always.
She’d passed so many nights in the front of that shelter with him. Neither of them had cared much for sleep. Or the dreams that haunted them.
“A . . . shelter?” Pierce’s voice had risen. “You were in a shelter?”
She didn’t look back at him. “He’s not dead.” Her words were a plea to Sarah. “He’s not.” Tell me he’s not. Tell me this is a mistake. Not Pauley. Pauley is sweet and good and he keeps me safe. He—
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said, and there was a kind of desperate horror in her gaze. “I didn’t realize you were close with him.” A bit awkwardly, she tried to pat Eve’s shoulder. “I thought Gabe needed to know because he’d wanted a watch put on the shelter. I didn’t mean to just—”
Eve pushed past her and ran out of the room. Gabe was calling her name but she didn’t look back. She was going to lose it. Going to break down and cry, and she couldn’t cry in front of them. Not in front of Sarah. Not in front of Pierce Montgomery. Or Wade or—
She ran into the bathroom, grabbed the edge of the sink, and the tears erupted.
Pauley.
GABE WAS RUNNING after Eve. He—
A hard hand grabbed him. He spun around and saw Pierce Montgomery frowning at him. “I don’t understand . . . are you saying that woman has been living in a shelter?”
He needed to get to Eve. Gabe gave a grim nod.
“I—I . . . what am I supposed to do?” Pierce asked, his face tense. “I don’t know if she’s Jessica. I don’t know—”
Gabe yanked away from him. “Wade, keep Pierce company.” Wade would understand that order actually meant: Don’t let the guy leave. Not until I get back.
Then he was out of the office. Sarah was at his side, hurrying to keep up with him. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize that was her friend. I just . . .” Her breath huffed out. “It was too much of a coincidence. A murder at her shelter right after you’d ordered surveillance there. I had to tell you. I thought you needed to know!”
He didn’t see Eve. She wasn’t in the lobby. Wasn’t in the break room. “You did the right thing.” Where are you, Eve? He turned to the left. Saw the sign for the ladies’ restroom.
“Uh, Gabe—” Sarah began. “That is the ladies’ room.”
He ignored her. He shoved open the bathroom door and rushed inside. “Eve?”
She spun at his approach.
Tears were on her cheeks again. He hated to see tears on her cheeks.
“Eve . . .” He stood there, just inside the women’s restroom, and felt so lost and helpless and couldn’t stand that she was hurting.
He despised feeling helpless. When he felt that way, he wanted to fucking destroy someone.
Or something.
“I—I need a minute, okay? Just give me a minute.” She was swiping at her cheeks. Trying to hide her tears.
“Don’t hide anything from me.” Gabe took her into his arms. Pulled her against his chest. Held her tight. “Don’t ever hide from me.”
She cried then, in his arms, and he knew that he was in trouble. Because she was under his skin. Cutting right through his careful guard. Getting to him.
As she cried, his thoughts twisted.
I’ll break anyone who hurts her. Make them beg. Make them bleed.
He’d always known he walked a dangerous edge. That edge had made him a good SEAL. It made him a deadly adversary.
It made him too lethal.
“He was my only friend,” she confessed.
He held her even tighter.
“He had no money.” Her words were so low that he had to strain in order to hear them. “He lived in a shelter. Why rob someone in a shelter?”
You didn’t rob in a damn shelter. You didn’t rob the homeless . . . But a killing . . . in Gabe’s experience, there was always a reason for that.
“I’ll find out what happened,” he promised, and pressed a kiss to her brow.
“Gabe.” She whispered his name. “What if it’s because of me?”
All of his instincts were already screaming that same thing at him, and Eve had obviously connected the dots.
She pulled back. Stared up at him with gleaming eyes. “You took me from the shelter because you thought I might be in danger. I felt like someone was watching me there.” Her gaze searched his. “Pauley always guarded the entrance . . . what if someone killed him because that person was looking for me? What if it’s my fault?”
“I’ll find out,” he said again. Wade had connections that they could use at the PD. If it were a real robbery gone wrong, they’d know. And if Pauley’s death turned out to be something more, then Gabe wouldn’t stop until he brought down the killer.
Because he was quickly realizing that, for Eve, he would do just about any damn thing.
CHAPTER FIVE
WADE MONROE PACED IN FRONT OF THE morgue. He’d always hated that place, but back in his homicide days, he’d sure spent plenty of hours down there.
He’d done his best to give justice to the dead. Some days, he’d succeeded in that job. Other days, he hadn’t.
The morgue’s door swung open, and Dr. Gus Bane stood in the doorway. Gus’s skin was a light coffee, and the gray grizzle of stubble lined his jaw. He frowned at Wade. “You’re not supposed to be darkening my door these days.”
Wade shrugged. “And you’re supposed to be retired and living down in Florida.” A grim smile curved his lips. “So I guess neither of us wound up where we were supposed to be.”
Gus grunted. “Wife left me. Gotta pay alimony now.”
“She found out about the mistress, huh?”
Gus glared.
“Easy. I brought a peace offering.” Wade lifted his bag. “Still got that sweet tooth?”
Gus snatched the doughnuts. “They better have chocolate on them.”
“Always.” Wade followed the guy into the morgue. The place was icy, and the smell—it always made him feel a little sick to his stomach.
Gus carefully put his bag down on his overflowing desk. “What do you want, Monroe?”
“A homeless man was brought in this morning. Stab victim. He was—”
“Pauley McIntyre.” Gus’s brows lowered. “Ms. Georgia was in here earlier. She identified him for us.”
There was some familiarity in the coroner’s voice. “Uh, Ms. Georgia?” Wade pushed.
“She runs the sh
elter on Lortimer.”
“And you know her because . . . ?” He waited for Gus to answer.
Gus just stared back at him. Right. The guy didn’t spend all his time with the stiffs in the morgue. If the rumors were true, Gus was supposed to be one serious ladies’ man.
Hence the divorce. And the alimony payments.
When the silence stretched a beat too long, Wade said, “I need to know about his case.”
“Not much to know.” Gus headed into the back, where the bodies were kept. Wade locked his shoulders and followed him. “Two stab wounds. One to the heart. One to the gut.”
“He went fast?”
“Fast enough. The man sure didn’t suffer long.”
They were in front of the freezer—well, that’s how Wade had always thought of the place. A series of big, heavy lockers lined the right wall. Bodies were in those lockers. As Wade watched, Gus bent and pulled one of them open. More cold air slipped out, and so did a body that had been bagged and tagged.
“I heard it was a robbery,” Wade murmured.
“That’s what the detectives upstairs are saying.” Gus’s voice held no inflection. “But seeing as how he was wearing boots with holes in them and threadbare clothes, I’m not so sure that theory works.”
Wade held his stare.
“But I just determine COD,” Gus told him. Cause of death. “The cops run the investigation.”
Wade understood exactly what Gus was saying and what he wasn’t. “He’s a homeless man—”
“And not the rich businessman who was killed in that hit and run last week. Guess who’s going to get front page coverage for a while, and who’ll get sent straight on to the cemetery.”
Right, Wade thought. That was another reason why he had left the PD. “It wasn’t a robbery.”
Gus shook his head. “This guy who did it knew what he was doing. There were no hesitation wounds, and Pauley—he didn’t even have time to fight back.”
Hell. “He was ex-military—”
“And I would say he was taken down in less than a minute. No one even reported hearing him scream.”
Wade looked down at that zipped body bag.
“And the wound to the gut,” Gus’s voice roughened, “the killer twisted the knife.”