Did he dare take it anywhere?
He went to the window. A sharp crack of lighting made him tense. Thunder rumbled shortly after. And rain hammered, slanting in wind.
Guilt stirred deeper into Jagger. She wasn’t like any of the other women he’d been with after Melinda.
He didn’t like deceiving her. She deserved honesty.
And Jagger’s instincts told him that she’d been hurt. In a relationship. A serious one, given the way she fiddled with that wedding-ring finger.
He had no intention of hurting her further. He snorted softly to himself. This was a double bind he’d not expected.
Chapter 6
“They’re putting him in the family wing, in his own suite. Security will be more complicated now. And that nurse is going to be like a damn bodyguard stuck permanently to his side.”
“If she’s in the way, we’ll have to get rid of her, too.”
“She’s taking him to Cheyenne tomorrow for a 10:30 a.m. appointment at the hospital. That’s your best opportunity. And make it look like an accident this time or you’re just going to bring the heat down tenfold.”
Several beats of silence.
“What if it is him. I mean, it could be th—?”
“It’s not Cole. Understand this—that man is not Cole Colton.”
Another stretch of silence. “And you know this for sure?”
“Yes, dammit, I know it.”
“How?”
“I told you, that’s not for you to worry about. Just finish the job, and you’ll get your share.”
“If you know that he’s not Cole, do you know where the real Cole is? Is he still alive?”
The phone went dead.
Thunder rumbled and he cursed under his breath as he pocketed the phone.
* * *
Mia made her way quickly down the passage, her footfalls quiet. Once around the corner, she sucked air in deep and leaned back against the wall, gathering herself. What had just happened back there? Her stomach was trembling inside. Her skin felt hot. His aura was like a dark sexual magnet that re-arranged every molecule in her body and sucked her insidiously toward him.
She’d almost kissed him. If he hadn’t pulled back when he did...
Mia scrubbed her hands over her face.
She couldn’t afford to make a mistake like Brad again. And this man was an unknown, a total mystery. If he wasn’t Cole, he could be dangerous. He could be anybody. He might even have loved ones waiting for him, worrying about him.
And if he did turn out to be Cole...Mia didn’t want anything personal to do with the Colton family. This ranch was a job, that was all. And even that she was re-thinking.
Dammit, why was she taking her mind down this road? She pushed off the wall and hurried down the stairs. But even as she rushed down to the employee wing where the infirmary was housed, Mia felt trapped. She’d been instructed to sleep in his suite tonight, to take him on a road trip tomorrow. A soft panic rose inside her. She was scared of her own feelings reawakening like this, and what it might mean. Mia couldn’t do sex with no strings. Once involved in a physical relationship her heart got entangled as much as her body did.
She blew out a breath of air. Get tonight over with, take him to Cheyenne tomorrow. Then, once the neurologist told them what they were dealing with, Levi could take it from there. After tomorrow “Cole” wasn’t going to need her help 24/7.
She’d be clear.
As Mia made her way along the passage of the employee wing, thunder cracked outside and rumbled away into the foothills. Lights flickered down the hallway.
Another bolt of thunder exploded right overheard. The lights went out.
Mia stilled—the pitch blackness was sudden and complete. She groped for the wall and began feeling her way along the passage, wondering when—or if—the backup generator might kick in. She had an emergency flashlight in her room, and that’s what she aimed for.
Outside thunder rumbled again. The lights flickered on then off again. Mia froze. In that brief moment of light she thought she’d seen someone. A man. Tall. Like a freeze frame, then gone.
Her heart banged against her rib cage as memories of Jenny Burke’s murder in the pantry flashed through her mind, of Agnes being attacked in the barn, of Faye being shot upstairs.
Suddenly the lights went on. A man’s shadow loomed to her side. Mia swung round and screamed as a hand clamped down over her mouth from behind, stifling the sound in her throat. She choked, trying to cough. She could taste salt, sweat on his skin. His body was hard. Male. Big.
Fear rose thick and instant in her throat.
“Shhh,” he whispered into her ear. “Don’t be afraid. Just no noise, please, and I’ll let you go. Got it?”
Mia nodded, eyes burning.
Slowly the man released his hand from her mouth. She spun round and gasped.
“Trip? What...what the hell!”
He raised his finger to his lips. “No noise, remember?”
She lowered her voice to an angry whisper. “What the hell are you doing down here in the female staff wing!”
He was holding a duffel bag in one hand. He used the other to quickly tuck his shirttail back into his jeans.
“Oh,” Mia said. “Dumb question, right?”
“I came from upstairs—thought I heard banging down here.”
She pulled a face. “Yeah, right.”
“And you didn’t see me.” He gave her a seductive wink and chucked her under the chin.
Mia gritted her teeth as he left, wondering what maid’s door he’d really come out of this time, and who on earth was stupid enough to sleep with Trip Colton, Jethro’s womanizing stepson who still, oddly, lived in part of the house with his mother and sister.
* * *
After gathering her medical bag, some toiletries, a nightgown, a change of clothing and her laptop, Mia went back upstairs to attend to her patient.
When she entered the sitting room the lights were out, everything quiet. But the warm glow of a small lamp emanated from the door of Cole’s bedroom, which was ajar.
“Cole?” she called gently.
No reply. One of the maids had been here and put fresh flowers and a bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter.
Mia went into her own bedroom and set her gear on the bed. Taking the medical bag, she went quietly to his room. She edged the door open. “Cole?” she whispered.
He was fast asleep, his bare chest partially covered by a white sheet that set off his tan. He’d showered—his hair was damp and the room filled with the scents of soap and shampoo that had been provided in the bathroom en suite.
Mia saw that he’d removed the bandage on his temple, presumably because it had gotten wet. The stitches were dark. Bruising had started.
She stilled, just watching for a moment. He was gorgeous in the rugged, man’s-man kind of way she liked. Her gaze went to the tattoo on his chest. Again she wondered about his history, the nightmares that seemed to haunt him—things he couldn’t remember when conscious.
She could just let him sleep. Or wake him to put another dressing on. But airing the sutures was good, too. She set her bag down and went to his bedside, sitting softly on the edge of the bed, reaching for his pulse.
He moved, murmured as her skin touched his, but his breathing soon became deep and regular again, which was a good sign.
His pulse was also fine.
She pulled the sheet up over him, clicked off the light and tiptoed out to her own room thinking about a soothing soak in the tub and sleep.
After she’d eaten and bathed, Mia laid her clothes neatly out on a chair, ready for an early start on the road tomorrow. She set her alarm to wake her in two hours when she’d check that her patient hadn’t lapsed into a coma again.
Outside, rain lashed against the windows and wind whistled through the mansion eaves. In the distance thunder rumbled softly as the storm moved down the valley. Snow would be thick on the distant peaks tomorrow, she thought, as she clicked off her bedside lamp and tried to get comfortable in the foreign bed.
She drifted into a fitful sleep and then into a hot dream where she was twisting and tangling in sheets with Cole, naked. Then he suddenly became Brad, and she was straddling him, her thighs opening wide as she sank down onto the hot, hard length of him. Mia threw her head back in ecstasy as she rocked her pelvis against his, her arousal almost painful, her muscles screaming for release.... Then suddenly, a scream cut the night. Raw, as if from her own throat.
She woke. Shocked. Confused. Heart hammering.
The scream came again.
Him!
She lurched from her bed, stumbling through the dark as she found her way into his room. She clicked on his lamp.
He was writhing in his sheets, wet with perspiration, his face twisted in unspeakable agony, fists clenched. Suddenly he stilled, and another moan came from deep in his throat, unearthly, as he balled the sheet in his fists and arched his spine. The sound, the sight of him like this, chilled her to the bone and the hairs down the nape of her neck rose.
“Cole!” she said, grasping his shoulders, trying to shake him awake.
He hit at her, and Mia lurched back then grabbed his arm. “Cole! Wake up! It’s me—Mia!”
His body stilled. Behind his closed lids his eyes were moving rapidly, as if in a dream. He had tears down his face, leaking out his lids. Emotion ripped through Mia’s chest. In a secret place, in his dreams, this mystery man was haunted by something terrible and unspeakably painful. She thought of the scar under his hairline, the vicious and twisted scar up the inside of his thigh. What had happened to him?
“Cole—” she whispered, placing her hand on his forehead, smoothing the damp hair back from his brow. “It’s all right. You’re safe with me.”
His eyes fluttered open. Horror—she saw sheer horror in his eyes.
Mia cupped the side of his jaw, forcing him to focus on her. “Cole, it’s me, Mia.”
Slowly his dilated pupils shrank.
“Mia?” He sounded confused. He glanced around the room, swallowing. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, breathing hard, the sheet falling down to his waist. His skin was slick with perspiration. He caught her gaze, and embarrassment flashed through his features.
She sat beside him. “It’s okay. What’s going on Cole? Tell me what you were dreaming.”
His smoky eyes turned dark and tormented again. “I don’t know. I...must have had a nightmare.”
For a fleeting moment Mia had the odd sense he was lying.
She took his temperature and checked his pulse again. Then she put a clean dressing on his brow.
“You can’t remember your dream?” she said quietly.
“No.”
“Was it about the attack last night or something from before?”
“I don’t know, Mia.”
She still felt he was lying, although she couldn’t pinpoint why. “If you tell me, it might give us a clue about your past, about who you are.”
He looked away, something raw in his profile.
Mia felt shaken herself. Right to the core. She’d heard people scream in that way—once, it was a woman trapped in a car in a highway accident. Another time it was a man who’d lost his wife and son in a house fire. He’d dropped to his knees as the firefighters held him back, and he screamed as he watched the flames devouring his house, his home, his family. It was not a sound easily cataloged in the human brain. It was something primal. Whoever this guy was, Mia felt in her heart that he was not here to scam Jethro Colton out of some inheritance. Her instinct told her that he’d come to Dead River for something more basic.
But she didn’t feel he was being completely open, either—and as that whispering suspicion unfurled inside her, she wondered what he could be hiding. Or what was trapped in his lost memory.
“Do you want something to eat, Cole?” she asked quietly. “Or some tea, maybe?”
He shook his head.
Mia wanted morning to come fast, now, so she could get him to hospital and have the CAT scan done. She needed to know what was going on inside this man’s head and if it was dangerous. Reaching for his hand, she took it in hers and just held on.
His gaze lowered slowly to her hand, then he looked back up into her eyes. And she felt it—a need—something very different from the earlier sexual desire she’d seen in his eyes.
Mia was a sucker for a person in need of help. She was a born healer. It’s why she’d become a nurse.
Cole turned his hand palm-up under hers, lacing his fingers together with hers, drawing her gently down onto the bed beside him, wrapping his arms around her. Before she even knew what she was doing, Mia had turned her face to his and her lips met his. Light as a feather.
He stiffened for a nanosecond, then moved his lips hungrily against hers, his hand threading up into her hair as he drew her hard against his body. His lips were salty, strong. He parted her lips and Mia opened her mouth, entering the kiss wholly, blindly, swept by a poignancy and sensuality she’d never experienced. She felt the desperate need of his hunger and her nipples turned hard as he gathered her so tightly against himself she thought she wouldn’t be able to breathe. Then Mia pulled back, almost a little afraid now.
“Cole?” she whispered.
“Shhh,” he said. “Don’t talk, just lie here with me.” He closed his eyes, spooning her tightly into the curve of his body. And he fell into a deep, calm sleep. As if he hadn’t slept in months. Years.
Mia lay quietly, his body warm and deliciously male around hers. And her fear grew.
Because she was falling, being sucked down into something she didn’t quite understand, with a man who had no name, no past. No history that he could speak of.
* * *
Jagger was roused from deep sleep by a faint beeping. Confused, he opened his eyes. Morning had dawned with yellow light streaming in through the windows. As he came fully awake he realized it was an alarm that was beeping softly in the next room.
Mia was still in his arms, sleeping. Warm. His forearm rested against her breasts. Jagger’s pulse quickened as desire stirred hot and low in his gut. He breathed in the scent of her hair splayed on his pillow, golden under the rays of dawn reaching the bed,
It struck him suddenly—that thought he’d had in the diner about sunshine, fresh mornings, sunny smiles, the scent of clean laundry. It was all here, wrapped in his arms. Mia. Like a rare and precious thing that was going to slip through his fingers as soon as she woke.
She’d stayed with him the whole night. She didn’t know who in hell he was, but compassion, the healer in this nurse, had kept her at his side, in his bed. And for the first time in over a year, Jagger had slept through the rest of the night like a baby. No more nightmares. No flashbacks. And because of it he felt clear-headed. Sharp. Full of energy. Even the dull pain in his temple, the constant ache in his thigh bone and the scarred muscles where the bayonet had ripped through his flesh, were somewhat eased.
Affection, feelings he couldn’t even articulate, blossomed through his chest as Mia stirred in his arms. Her mouth was slightly open as she breathed. Her lashes were soft against her cheeks.
Jagger thought of kissing her again, and heat sharpened in his groin. He thought of turning her over, making love to her, giving in to this woman, and that thought began to consume him with a blinding fire. But he held back.
There was something sacrosanct about Mia, something that couldn’t be taken lightly.
He’d been using sex, alcohol, sleeping pills to blunt his flashbacks, to escape the memories. He’d felt no emot
ion when he slept with women after returning from Afghanistan. But this was different.
For more than a year he’d been running from something he’d learned only recently he’d never be able to outrun. That’s why he was here—to find a way to claw back a semblance of life. Work. But now, in her arms, he felt off-kilter. Confused. As if something had brought him here, to this place. To her. For deeper reasons.
Christ, he was being ridiculous.
Slowly, he extricated himself from the bed. Grabbing his jeans and shirt, Jagger tiptoed through the sitting room into the other bedroom where the alarm was bleating softly. He switched it off. On a chair near the bed, Mia had neatly piled her clothes for the day. A slim laptop rested on the desk next to her purse.
Jagger stilled. A real person, a woman with feelings. She was helping him and he was lying to her. He eyed her laptop. He could use it while she slept to access his files which he’d stored in a secure, password-protected online database.
But it felt wrong. Conflicted, Jagger dragged his hand through his hair.
Go back to the basics—this is about a story. About finding justice for a small boy probably long dead.
About finding the truth of what had happened all those years ago.
Truth. And here he was, lying to get it—a little Faustian bargain of his own. Nothing was ever simply black and white, always infinite shades of gray.
One step at a time, he told himself. First thing was going for the CAT scan. He had to follow that through to maintain his cover. The appointment was at 10:30 a.m. Cheyenne was about forty miles out. They’d need to get moving soon.
He padded barefoot to the little kitchenette, filled the coffeemaker with water and opened the fridge.
* * *
Mia woke to the scent of fresh coffee, eggs, bacon and toast. Her stomach grumbled—she felt starved. She rolled over in bed, then sat up with a violent shock.
She was in his bed.
Morning sun streamed into the room. Outside, the sky was bluebird clear, the storm had blown through. Images from the night, the sounds of rain and thunder, her sensual dream jumbled through Mia’s head as she tried to sort fact from fantasy, terrified for a moment it had been real, that she’d had sex with Cole. She looked down at her body. She was in her nightshirt. It had been a dream. She’d heard him scream and come to him.
The Missing Colton Page 11