by Elle Kennedy
“No, I’m not a hundred percent on this,” Derek’s brother answered. “You told me to be discreet, so I didn’t want to raise any flags by asking too many questions. I spoke to Moreno’s receptionist, who said the good surgeon is out of town. When I pushed for more details, she admitted that he’s consulting on a case on the East Coast, but that he’s scheduled to return to L.A. sometime next week.”
“East Coast,” Chloe echoed flatly.
She suddenly felt light-headed. A part of her had prayed that she was wrong and Felix wasn’t the one sending her those wedding souvenirs, that maybe someone was playing a sick joke on her. But who was she kidding? Nobody else she knew was twisted enough to mess with her head like this. Felix, however, excelled at psychological manipulation. He knew how to find a person’s weakness and exploit it, how to tease and torment until he drove someone utterly insane.
“I also got a call from the lab,” Tate added. He glanced at Chloe. “You were right about the blood—it wasn’t human.”
She frowned. “What was it, then?”
“Pig’s blood. And there’s no way to trace where it came from. Most butchers have pig’s blood on hand, so it’s easy to get. Some grocery stores even sell it in the fresh meat section.”
“We don’t need to trace it,” Chloe mumbled. “Felix is the one who left me the dress.”
“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Tate said, “but I think you need to involve the police. I can drive you down to the precinct in Philly myself and help you file a restraining order.”
She offered a weak laugh. “A restraining order won’t stop him.”
“Chloe—” Derek started.
“Thank you for looking into this,” she interrupted, turning to Tate. “I’ll let you know what I decide to do.”
Without letting either man respond, she darted into the house.
Her heart thudded in an irregular rhythm as she hurried toward the guest bedroom, her legs so shaky she could barely stay upright. When she burst into the room, the fear and desperation swirling inside her transformed into a gust of fury, a blast of frustration, a rush of resentment.
Damn him.
Damn him.
Chloe curled her hands into fists, resisting the urge to pick up the lamp on the bedside table and hurl it into the wall.
She’d finally been free. She’d escaped, damn it!
Over the past six months, she’d actually seen a gleam of hope in her future. She was doing the work she’d loved before Felix forced her to quit. She’d felt a sense of peace knowing her father was safe, certain that Felix wouldn’t be bothered by one old man now that he didn’t need leverage to keep Chloe in line. She’d even found a hometown, a place where she felt needed, liked and respected.
And now Felix had crushed all that hope, the way he crushed everything else in her life. Her self-esteem, her femininity, her peace of mind.
A soft knock sounded on the door. “Chloe?” Derek called. “Can I come in?”
She opened her mouth to say yes, then halted, realizing what a mistake that would be. She couldn’t keep leaning on this man. Couldn’t take advantage of his strength and generosity. He was giving her a place to stay, and that was already too much. An involvement between the two of them would lead to nothing but disaster, especially with Felix hanging over her head like a black cloud.
“Chloe?”
She took a shaky breath and said, “Derek, I’d like to be alone for a bit, if you don’t mind.”
After a beat, he responded. “All right.”
Once his footsteps retreated, Chloe sank on the edge of the mattress and buried her head in her hands. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to succumb to the urge to bawl like a baby.
She couldn’t hide at Derek’s ranch forever. She knew that. But for the life of her, she didn’t know what to do anymore. She’d already faked her death and moved to the other side of the country, and Felix had still found her. So what now?
Squaring her shoulders, she stood up and walked over to the dresser where she’d left her cell phone. She checked the screen, but there were no missed calls or messages. Her friend from L.A. hadn’t gotten back to her yet, which meant she couldn’t make any moves yet. Once she got the ball rolling on her new identity, she could formulate a solid plan. Maybe she’d go to Australia—there were lots of places to hide down under. Or Europe—it was easy to disappear in a big city or somewhere in the countryside, perhaps.
All of those options, however, brought an ache to her heart. No matter where she went, she’d have to leave Derek behind, and the thought of that was surprisingly gloomy. In a mere month, Derek had managed to get under her skin.
Her body began to tingle, her mouth going dry as she relived that one thrilling kiss, the sheer sense of belonging that enveloped her when her lips had met Derek’s.
Belonging. But no, she didn’t belong. Not in Eden Falls. Not in Derek’s life. And certainly not in Derek’s bed.
Felix had made certain of that.
* * *
Tate Colton had just finished packing his duffel bag when his cell phone rang. A glance at the display revealed Hugo Villanueva’s number. Finally.
“Are we all set?” Tate said in lieu of greeting.
His supervisor chuckled. “Tired of spinning your wheels, Colton?”
“Hell, yes. I’m ready to nail these bastards.”
“Good because your documents just landed on my desk and we’ve got the green light to go ahead with the op. I need you in Philly so I can brief you on your cover and objectives.”
Satisfaction flooded Tate’s gut. “I’m packing as we speak. I’ll probably get in late tonight, but I can be at your office first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Good. I’ll see you then.”
Tate hung up and bent down to zip his duffel, then crossed the spacious bedroom. His case files sat on the splintered pine desk he’d used since he was a child. His parents hadn’t redecorated any of their children’s bedrooms once Tate, Derek, Gunnar and Emma had left the nest, and he always experienced a sense of peace and familiarity when he came home. Everything in the bedroom reminded him of his folks—the custom desk his father had built for him, the dark green curtains his mom had sewn herself, the old posters and family photographs hanging on the cream-colored walls.
Although he’d been living in Philly ever since he’d made detective, this ranch was home and always would be.
As he picked up the blue file folders, one of them flew open, its contents fluttering onto the hardwood floor.
Suppressing a sigh, Tate knelt to scoop up the strewn papers. He shoved the witness statements, case notes and photos back into the folder, but froze when his fingers collided with one photograph in particular.
After the visceral reaction he’d experienced the first time he’d seen it, he’d been making a conscious effort to avoid looking at this one image. As a detective, he needed to stay objective, to separate himself from the victims and look at the facts, but when it came to Hannah Troyer, he seemed to operate on emotion rather than objectivity.
Now, as he gazed at those big blue-gray eyes and delicate, doll-like features, that same hot rush of emotion returned, making his throat go tight. Hannah had been missing for more than a month now and the only clue to her disappearance had been the anonymous video that had surfaced on the internet, featuring a clearly drugged Hannah mouthing what looked like “help me.”
Watching that had ripped Hannah’s brother Caleb apart, and although Tate had tried to remain professional, the video had nearly killed him, too. Seeing that beautiful redhead on the screen pleading for help had left him paralyzed with pure helplessness.
“We’ll find her.”
Tate jumped, startled to find his sister Emma looming over him. He hadn’t even heard her enter the room—tha
t’s how focused he’d been on Hannah Troyer’s lovely face.
“I know,” he said brusquely.
But will she be alive?
Neither said it out loud, but Tate knew they were both thinking it. His heart twisted once more as the terrifying scenario flashed through his mind. Hannah. Dead.
“How’s Caleb doing?” he asked, trying not to dwell on the unthinkable.
“Good, considering.” Emma’s green eyes softened. “He’s spending a lot of time with his girls. He’s scared to let them out of his sight.”
“I don’t blame him.” In fact, Tate hoped the rest of the Amish folk kept a closer eye on their children. After Mary Yoder’s kidnapping and Violet Chastain’s attack, it had become clear that nobody was safe in Paradise Ridge and wouldn’t be until this depraved sex ring was out of commission.
“And you?” Tate pushed. “How are you doing, tomato-head?”
His use of her childhood nickname made her scowl. “I’m fine. Great, actually.” Her scowl faded into a secretive smile, and he knew she must be thinking about Caleb.
“Still determined to give up your modern perks for a more traditional way of life?”
She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think I am.”
He was about to tease her about the hell of living without a blow dryer and cell phone but quickly stopped himself. Emma’s imminent conversion to the Amish church was important to her and she already got enough ribbing about it from Gunnar and Piper. Besides, who was Tate to judge? What did he really have going for him in his own life, aside from an empty apartment in Philly and a badge that didn’t seem to be helping him find those missing girls?
So he simply nodded in return and said, “I hope you get everything you want out of it, Em.”
She looked surprised but touched. “Thanks, Tate.” Her green eyes drifted back to the photograph he still gripped in his hand. “We’re going to find her,” she said again.
Tate swallowed. “Yes, we will.”
* * *
“I don’t like this,” Derek said for the tenth time in ten minutes. His profile revealed a stiff jaw and tight lips, a clear sign that—as he kept insisting—he really, really didn’t like this.
But Chloe held her ground as he steered the car to the small lot at the back of the clinic. “It’ll be fine,” she assured him. “You’ll be with me the whole time.”
“I’d feel better if you were at my house, behind locked doors and a security alarm,” he grumbled.
“I did that yesterday, and I almost went crazy from inactivity. I need to work,” she said firmly. “I need to feel useful.”
“You also need to stay safe.”
“I’ll be safe here with you,” she insisted. She stuck out her chin. “Quit arguing with me, Colton. I’m working today and you can’t stop me.”
“I could fire you…”
“You wouldn’t.” She smiled smugly. “I’m too much of an asset.”
He shot her a sidelong look, his lips quirking. “Are you always so stubborn? And arrogant?”
She had to laugh. “Stubborn, yes. Arrogant, no.”
His answering laugh made her heart skip a beat. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her pulse and remind herself that she couldn’t let this man affect her, at least not on a romantic level. Doctor and nurse. One friend helping out another. That was all they could be to each other from this point on.
They entered the building from the rear door, going their separate ways in the fluorescent-lit hallway. Chloe changed into her scrubs and tied her hair in a ponytail, then wandered out to the reception area to greet Derek’s receptionist, who offered her a tall foam cup of coffee.
“Thanks, Nancy,” she said gratefully.
For the next several hours, Chloe helped Derek tend to their patients, dealing with everything from minor issues like refilling prescriptions to major ones like stitching up the gaping cut the diner’s chef had incurred while chopping onions.
By the time four o’clock rolled around, Chloe had completely forgotten about Felix. Derek’s practice was too busy, offering no opportunities to dwell on her own messed-up problems.
As usual, Sawyer showed up after school let out, trailed by Piper, who smiled at Chloe as the duo approached Nancy’s desk. “Hi, Amelia,” Piper said.
“Hi, Piper,” she said warmly. “You’re going to help out in the clinic today?”
The blonde shook her head in irritation. “Nope. I’m supposed to drive the twerp home, but he insisted on coming here first to finish up his ‘filing.’”
“I promised Derek I would,” Sawyer said in a firm voice.
Chloe grinned as the boy darted down the hall. Although Derek sometimes let Sawyer into the exam rooms—after making sure the patient didn’t mind—he usually assigned his brother random tasks around the clinic, trivial little things that Sawyer treated as utterly important and tackled with enthusiasm.
“I’ll be in the waiting room,” Piper said, sighing. She pulled her iPod and earbuds from her canvas shoulder bag as she wandered off.
Chloe called in their last patient of the day, and once the appointment ended, she headed for the back office to change into her street clothes. She’d just zipped up her leather boots when Sawyer appeared in the doorway, a thoughtful look on his face.
“I figured it out,” he announced.
She gave him a quizzical look. “Figured what out?”
“Why you don’t like kids.”
An arrow of grief sliced into her heart. Oh, God. She should’ve known the boy had noticed the way she kept her distance from him, but knowing that it had bothered him enough to give it serious thought brought the sting of tears to her eyes. Her inability to get close to Sawyer had nothing to do with the boy and everything to do with her, but she knew he would never understand that. It tore her apart, his thinking she hated children.
“Sawyer,” she began thickly.
“No, it’s okay. Listen, I think you don’t like kids because you’re just not used to them. Am I right?”
She couldn’t answer—the lump in her throat was that big.
“I think I’m right,” he went on with a nod. “A lot of people aren’t used to kids. They don’t know how to talk to them.”
Her eyes stung. Her throat grew even tighter.
“They don’t know if they should talk to us like we’re children or grown-ups or whatever.” Sawyer flashed her an endearing smile. “But you’ve just gotta talk to us the way you talk to anyone else.”
Her heart cracked in two. Sawyer Colton was…he was simply something else. The sweetest kid she’d ever met. Wiser than most of the adults she knew, and so adorable it took all of her willpower to control the tears threatening to spill over.
“I think you’d like kids if you spent more time with them,” he finished. “If you want, we can hang out a lot so you’ll get used to it.”
Chloe blinked rapidly, sucking oxygen into her burning lungs. When she got her emotions under control, she met his brown eyes. “Thank you, Sawyer. That’s a really sweet offer.”
“Maybe I’ll come over tomorrow and we can play cards,” he suggested. “Derek’s teaching me how to play poker. Do you know how to play?”
She nodded weakly.
“Good, so you can give me some tips, too. Later, Amelia.”
With a little wave, he bounded off, leaving her staring after him in shock and dismay.
* * *
Derek ducked into his office as Sawyer came barreling down the hall. He didn’t want his brother to know he’d been eavesdropping, especially since he’d reprimanded Sawyer for doing the same thing countless times before. But Derek hadn’t been able to resist when he’d heard Chloe’s and Sawyer’s voices drifting out of the back office.
I think you don’t like kids because you’re
just not used to them.
Man, that kid was something else. Derek experienced a rush of pride when he realized that he could take at least partial credit for the perceptive, caring kid Sawyer had grown up to be. Derek and his siblings had raised Sawyer, tried to instill the same values their adoptive parents had drilled into them, and clearly their efforts hadn’t been futile.
“We’re leaving! See you at home, bro!” Piper’s voice wafted from the front room.
Derek called out a goodbye, then stepped into the hall and headed for the office Chloe and Sawyer had been chatting in. When he noticed that the door was shut, he frowned. The frown deepened when a soft noise perked his ears. Was that…sobbing?
Wary, he placed his ear to the door. Silence…and then a tiny whimper. Choked breaths. Another sob.
Without bothering to knock, he threw the door open.
And found Chloe sitting against the wall with her arms wrapped around her knees, crying as if her heart was breaking.
Her head lifted at his entrance and as their eyes locked, she released an unstable breath and whispered, “I don’t hate kids.”
He was at her side in a nanosecond, down on the floor, pulling her right into his arms. She rested her head on his chest and cried, her delicate shoulders shuddering from each hoarse breath, each tormented whimper. He stroked the small of her back, murmuring words of comfort, holding her tight, running his fingers through her silky hair. After several long minutes, her body stopped trembling. Her sobs faded.
She looked up at him, her eyes red and puffy, her cheeks wet from her tears. “I had four babies,” she whispered.
Shock coursed through him. “What?”
“Four babies. And they all died.” Agony hung from her words. “They all died, Derek.”
Her revelation caused his heart to fracture in a few more places. Suddenly it all made sense—her determination to keep Sawyer at a distance, the way she smiled politely but without her usual warmth around younger patients. How stricken she’d looked when she’d seen Violet’s toddlers the night she’d come to the ranch for dinner.
“Do you…” He cleared his throat. “Do you want to talk about it, sweetheart?”