Snowbound Targets (HQR Romantic Suspense)

by Karen Whiddon

  She padded down the hall, looking for a bathroom. Once there, she eyed the shower longingly before deciding she might as well. But first, she locked the door. Only then did she strip off her clothes and glance in the mirror.

  As she’d feared, in addition to the massive one on her face, more bruises decorated her legs and hips. She even had a huge one covering part of her stomach and back. Though she hadn’t been aware of them before, now that she was, they hurt. Especially if she pressed her fingers into them. Which she immediately stopped doing.

  Instead, she grabbed a couple of towels, located a new bar of soap under the sink, and stepped into the shower.

  The small room had filled with steam by the time she’d finished. Clearly, she liked her showers hot. As she toweled herself dry, she realized she felt better already. Clean, at least. If only she had a change of clothes. Maybe the man would know where she might obtain these.

  Thinking of the man must have made him manifest. Because when she walked back to the kitchen combing her fingers through her still-damp hair, she nearly ran into him. Only a quick jump back kept them from colliding.

  As she gazed up at him, her heart rate once again going double time, she realized he appeared larger than he had last night. And more muscular. In fact, judging by the hard stare, he seemed much more intimidating.

  She refused to let him see her quaking. Instead, she dipped her chin in a cool nod. “Good morning.”

  “Mornin’.” He narrowed his eyes. “Do you drink coffee?”

  Did she? Considering the question for a moment, she settled on a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out.”

  He turned and led the way to the kitchen. She followed, feeling slightly calmer. She needed to remind herself that, as of yet, he’d given her no reason to be afraid of him. No sense looking for trouble before it started, as her grandmother always said.

  My grandmother. Eager to capture a memory, she froze, waiting for her mind to supply images of a face and a name. But nothing else came and she finally sighed in defeat.

  The man waited at the counter. He’d gotten down two large mugs. “Would you like to try it black or with cream and sugar?”

  How she wished she could answer him.

  “Just pick one,” he said, noting her hesitation. “Let’s go with cream and sugar.”

  “Okay,” she allowed, watching as he put some kind of pod into the machine, placed a mug under it and pressed a button.

  She realized she didn’t even know his name. Which should be okay, since she didn’t know hers, but she was getting tired of thinking of him as the man.

  “I’m Jason Sheffield,” he told her, startling her. “And since we don’t know who you are, I’m thinking we’ll call you Lucy. Would that be okay?”

  Lucy. Considering, she tried out the name inside her head. “I guess that’ll be as good as any,” she replied. “At least until my memory comes back.”

  “Great.” He flashed a smile and handed over the mug. “Here you go, Lucy. Careful, it’s hot.”

  Grateful, she accepted it and carried it over to the kitchen table, where she took a seat. Taking a tentative sip, she smiled as the rich flavors filled her mouth. “This is good. I think this is how I like it.”

  “Good.” Carrying his own mug, he pulled out the chair across from her and sat. “How are you feeling?”

  Again, she had to stop and reflect on a seemingly simple question. Finally, she settled for honesty. “I’m not sure. I have a few lumps and bumps, plus bruises all over my body. I have no idea how I got them.”

  “Let me see,” he ordered. Then, softening his tone, he amended his request. “Please.”

  Slowly, she pushed up her sleeve. First one, then the other, exposing the pattern of purple, black and blue. “My legs look the same. And my stomach and back.”

  His harsh intake of breath made her tense. He swore, low enough that the curse word was almost imperceptible. “It looks like someone hit you, numerous times. By all rights, you should have a broken bone or two to go with those.”

  She shivered. “Nothing is broken that I can tell. I’m a bit stiff and sore, but the hot shower helped with that.” Taking another sip of coffee, she managed a small smile. ‘And this is helping me feel better too.”

  “You don’t remember what happened either?” His watchful gaze held enough compassion to make the back of her throat ache.

  “No. I wish I did.”

  “Any dreams that you can recall? Maybe your subconscious might try to communicate that way.”

  She thought for a moment. While she sensed she’d dreamed, to her best recollection those dreams were a swirl of chaotic colors and seemingly unrelated movements. “Nothing,” she finally admitted.

  At her response, he dragged his large hand through his unruly hair. Somehow, this only made him look more dangerous. Was he?

  “It was worth a shot,” he said.

  She took a deep breath. To trust him or not, that was the million-dollar question. However, in the end, what choice did she really have?

  “I need your help,” she admitted. “I’m beginning to see that you didn’t ask for any of this, but then neither did I. I feel like I might be in some sort of danger.”

  He stiffened, his gaze instantly alert. “From whom?”

  “That I don’t know. Like everything else. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but I just have a gut feeling. A sense of lurking danger, if you will. There’s no logic or reasoning behind it. I could be wrong.” She sighed. “Honestly, there’s no way to tell without my memory.”

  She watched him while he considered her words. His sheer size could have made him seem intimidating, though for her she found it made her feel safe. He’d been nothing but kind to her, even though he would have been within his rights to toss her out the door.

  “I think I’ll go into town and do some investigating,” he finally said. “Will you be okay here alone?”

  Would she? “I suppose so. But are you sure you trust me enough to leave me alone in your home?”

  He laughed at that, a warm masculine sound that managed to coax a smile from her. “You were alone here before I got home. I don’t see the difference.”

  * * *

  As Jason drove slowly down his steep drive, he couldn’t help but glance back at the cabin. This place had long been his refuge, a place known to only a few select friends. How, then, had the mysterious woman he’d try to call Lucy gotten there?

  Of course, everyone in the small mountain community of Cedar knew about his place. His family had been coming here for decades before he’d purchased it from his parents. Maybe the mystery would turn out to be as simple as that. It was entirely possible Lucy might turn out to be a local who’d known the cabin sat empty most of the year and decided to use it as her refuge.

  Though Jason hadn’t planned on being around people for at least a week or two, he needed to check with the sheriff and see if any missing-person reports had been filed. That would be a good place to start in his quest to determine her identity.

  Main Street in Cedar, Colorado, could have been a Christmas-card photo. The storefronts were meticulously maintained, even though they experienced far less tourism than other parts of the state due to their distance from any ski resort. With buildings constructed of red brick and wood, the aspen-lined street gave off a homey, welcoming feel.

  He parked in front of Joe’s Hardware, grinning at the thought of saying hello to Joe after his many months’ long absence. Too long, he thought.

  A bell over the door jingled as he went inside.

  “Be right with you,” Joe called out without looking up from a box full of tools he had on the counter. Due to the time of the year, snow shovels and a snowmobile were on display, along with Christmas lights.

  Jason prowled the aisles, enjoying the sense that he’d returned home. Unlike many of the loca
ls, he hadn’t grown up in Cedar, though his family had owned the cabin high on the mountainside for decades. They’d routinely made the trip from Colorado Springs, spending a few weeks in the cabin every summer.

  After his father died, his mother had decided to sell the place. Jason had promptly bought it. He’d done some extensive renovations, updating the roof and plumbing and heating system. Though he spent much of his life traveling due to his career, he enjoyed having a place to return to where he could find a modicum of peace.

  Joe finally looked up. When he caught sight of Jason, he let out a loud whoop. “Well, look at you,” he exclaimed. “About time you decided to pay us a visit.”

  After some back clapping and a one-armed guy hug, Joe asked Jason what he could help him find. “They’re predicting a snowstorm,” Joe supplied. “You got enough firewood up there?”

  “Nope. How soon can I get a cord delivered?”

  “For you, I’ll try to get it done this afternoon.”

  Since Jason already had all the other winter essentials, he paid for the wood. “Anything new in town?” he asked casually. While he knew hoping Joe would tell him about a missing woman was a long shot, he figured it didn’t hurt to try.

  “Not really.” Joe shrugged. “We’ve had a few more tourists this summer than usual, but after August, things settled back down to the same old, same old. But it’s good to see you again, Jason. How long are you here for this time?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m thinking at least a month.” Truthfully, he’d been toying with the idea of longer, maybe even giving up war reporting for good. His soul ached with weariness from all the bloodshed and savagery.

  “Through Christmas then.” Joe grinned. “You know me and the missus do our annual misfits’ dinner for Christmas. Everyone and anyone is invited to come eat with us. The only thing you have to do is bring something. Food, wine, beer, whatever.”

  Jason nodded. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.” He barely remembered the last time he’d celebrated Christmas. Most times he’d either been traveling or stuck in some foreign hotel. The best holiday he’d had in recent memory had been when he’d found himself at a military base and had celebrated with the service members.

  Once he’d left the hardware store, he strolled up and down Main Street, carefully checking all the storefront windows for missing-person flyers. He saw nothing save one for a lost cat.

  Though ever mindful of the frightened woman waiting at home, he stopped in at Gertie’s, a coffee shop known for amazing pies. He was well aware of how much trouble he’d be in once word got out that he’d been to town if he didn’t stop and see everyone who knew him.

  The little coffee house was packed. He took a seat at the bar, ordered a cup of coffee and Gertie’s famous peach pie. While he ate, he spoke with several other locals, all of who seemed happy to see him. No one mentioned a missing woman.

  Extricating himself from the group of people wanting to discuss his last big story, he finally headed down to the sheriff’s office. Though Sheriff Ray Jeffords had been at the job since Jason had been a kid, he’d shown no inclination of retiring. Since there’d been virtually no crime in Cedar ever, he didn’t have much to do anyway.

  “Jason Sheffield!” Springing from his chair, the sheriff rushed over and shook his hand. Once-gray hair had turned white, and his lined face bore a few more wrinkles, but the older man still had a firm grip and appeared healthy. If anything, he’d lost weight. His once-beefy frame seemed much trimmer.

  They talked about the weather and the predicted snowstorm. Ray complained about the lack of tourists, and the out-of-towners who occasionally built vacation homes on newly cleared land. When Ray made no mention of a missing woman, Jason cleared his throat and asked.

  “No, I haven’t heard anything about that.” The sheriff narrowed his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

  Though Jason briefly considered filling him in on the truth, he decided against it. Until he knew exactly what Lucy might be up against, he didn’t plan on letting anyone know about her.

  He gave a casual shrug. “I’m working on a story,” he said. “I really can’t share the details.”

  As usual, that answer worked. Everyone knew he was a reporter.

  “Let me check really quickly,” Sheriff Jeffords said. He spent a moment or two typing on his computer, clearly searching some database. “Nope. We’ve got an Amber Alert, but unless the missing female is fourteen years old, I’ve got nothing.”

  Jason hadn’t actually thought it would be that easy. He nodded. “Thank you for your time.”

  “No problem.”

  They shook hands again and Jason left. Instead of wandering the other side of Main Street, he decided to pick up a few more provisions and head back home. The food he’d bought earlier would be enough to last him a week or two, but he hadn’t been factoring in feeding another person. His experience with snowstorms in the mountains had taught him it was better to be prepared.

  As he shopped the small grocery-general store, this time doing some hasty meal planning inside his head, he couldn’t help but wonder if Lucy would still be there when he returned home. Just in case, he purchased some generic clothing items, staying away from things like bras and shoes, where he’d need to know an actual size. Luckily, the bored teenager working the cash register didn’t know him and couldn’t have cared less about his purchases.

  Satisfied, he found himself whistling as he drove home. He did enjoy a good mystery, especially one in as pretty of a package as Lucy.

  Chapter 2

  Watching as the man—Jason—drove off, she understood he’d left her with a choice. She could stay or she could go. Not really much of a decision, as far as she was concerned. She had no idea where she would go or what she would do once she got there. And how far would she get walking barefoot in the cold?

  Add that to the ever-present feeling of some sort of danger lurking just around the corner, right beyond the range of her vision, and she’d take her chances with the big man and the small cabin. For now.

  Lucy. Trying out the name, she decided it would work as well as anything else. Even though it didn’t feel right. But then, what did?

  How had this happened to her? And why? She’d actually thought things like this only happened in books or movies. Really, how awful was it to not have any sense of self, or past or present? She not only felt adrift, with nothing to anchor her, but afraid of what she might learn when her memories returned. Had she done something awful, so terrible the act had caused her mind to melt down? Or had someone done this to her? Did amnesia spontaneously occur without some sort of trigger? She didn’t think so. Odd how she could know some weird, random fact, but not her own name.

  Not giving in to self-pity would be a challenge. One of many, though. She didn’t know much about amnesia, and if she had access to the internet, she’d do some research. Damn, she missed her phone.

  Her phone. Startled, she realized if she closed her eyes, she could picture it clearly. Rose gold, the latest iPhone. Plus-size.

  Excited, she jumped to her feet. Her first true memory. If she could recollect something this small, it shouldn’t be too much longer before the rest came back to her.

  Pacing the confines of the small cabin, she tried to clear her mind, hoping a blank slate might bring back something else. But apparently her sudden flash of insight wasn’t something she could conjure up at will. No matter how hard she tried.

  Trying to focus on the positive—she’d actually remembered something—she refused to let herself feel discouraged. For now, she had to believe she was safe. At least she had a roof over her head, food to eat, and someone who seemed sympathetic and kind.

  She knew enough to understand that her circumstances could have been so much worse. Though she hesitated to call herself lucky, in this particular area she had been.

  The sound of tires on gravel alerted her to Jason�
�s return. At least, she hoped it was Jason. She hoped it wasn’t someone else coming to visit him.

  Heart pounding, she ran to the front window, lifted up one wooden blind and peered out. Yep. She exhaled in relief as she watched him climb out of a black Jeep, wearing a cowboy hat and looking larger than ever and handsome as hell. She felt a twinge of attraction, which she instantly quelled. Ridiculous, since for all she knew she could be married. Eying him again, she realized he appeared to be carrying several shopping bags.

  Opening the front door, she waited, feeling oddly breathless. “I’d come out and help you, but I don’t appear to have any shoes.”

  “We need to fix that,” he said, smiling as he approached her. “I should have thought of that before I went to town. I did pick you up a couple more sweatshirts and sweatpants, though they might be too large since I don’t know your size.”

  Grateful and touched, she thanked him. “That was kind.”

  “Well, you can’t walk around wearing the same thing day after day. I bought a package of women’s underwear too, size small, and a package of socks. I hope that will work.”

  “It will.” For no reason, her face heated.

  “I’ll need to get your sizes for shoes and er, other things.”

  Like bras. She got it. “Thank you.”

  “I got some more food and stuff,” he continued. “Just in case that snowstorm they’re predicting turns out to be as nasty as they say.”

  “I didn’t know about that.”

  “It’s supposed to be a doozy.”

  “Oh, I hope so. I love snow.”

  “You do?” His gaze sharpened. “Sounds like you remembered something.”

  “I did. It’s my second actual memory. Earlier, I remembered I have an iPhone. I could actually picture it.” She shrugged. “I’m disappointed that these seem insignificant, but hopeful more and more will come in time.”

  “I think I remember reading that’s how it works. Bits and pieces, flashes of insight. It won’t be like you’ll wake up one day with everything restored to you.”