Deceived (Unlikely Heroes Book 3)

by Leslie Georgeson

  He sighed. He hadn’t done anything to make her fear him.

  Except possibly break her arm.

  Shit.

  Would she really press assault charges against him? It would be her word against his. And with cops all over the country being scrutinized lately for using “excessive force” in apprehending citizens, it wouldn’t be wise to have that scrutiny turned on him. He could lose his job in a heartbeat.

  Pushing that disturbing thought aside, he lifted the radio and spoke to his deputies, “I’m taking the suspect to the emergency room to have her checked out. She was injured while I attempted to subdue her. When you guys get done here, head back to the station. Let me know if you find anything else.”

  He held a hand out to the woman. She eyed him warily.

  “Let’s see to that arm,” he said. “Then we’ll talk.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The sheriff ushered Meg out of the house and across the lawn toward his patrol car. She’d had another tic when he’d pulled out her fake driver’s license and his gaze had narrowed on her. It wasn’t her fault she had a medical condition that made people think she was crazy. Or high.

  Now he knew she wasn’t who she said she was. Though it was only a misdemeanor to provide false information, Meg knew the penalty was a fine of up to $1,000 and six months in jail. Who would prevent the sheriff from locking her up until the hearing? Meg groaned inwardly. How would she get out of this one?

  The sheriff removed the handcuff from her right wrist while she stood still, unable to breathe until he stepped back and refastened the handcuffs to his belt. She couldn’t squelch the sigh of relief that shuddered from her lips. He quirked a brow, his gray eyes intense on her face. Meg jerked her gaze away. He couldn’t know how terrified she was of those handcuffs.

  He opened the back door and told her to take a seat in the car. Once she was seated, he slammed the door shut and walked over to one of the deputies. The two men spoke for a few moments, then the sheriff headed her way.

  He slid behind the wheel. His gaze met hers in the rearview mirror. “Deputy Jones put your horse back in the corral and the tack in the barn for you.”

  Meg nodded. She slumped down in the backseat and cradled her injured arm. At least they hadn’t hurt her horse. Maybe the sheriff wasn’t as bad as the other cops she’d known. As bad as the other sheriff she’d known.

  But he had broken her arm. Or at least it felt like it was broken. It could only be a sprain, but as much as it hurt, she guessed it was more serious than a simple sprain.

  He put the car in gear. The vehicle leapt forward and spun around her circular driveway, heading for the main road.

  Meg tried to ignore the pain in her wrist by concentrating on the short dark hair covering the arrogant sheriff’s head. While he’d watched her earlier, she’d stared back, refusing to be intimidated. The man was tall and powerful looking. She sensed a well-muscled physique hidden beneath that uniform, and those remarkable slate-gray eyes seemed to pierce through her and see right into her soul. She’d never met anyone with such unusual eyes before. She’d noticed that when the light hit his eyes at a certain angle, his irises gave off a purplish hue, making them appear almost violet.

  Everything about the man was intimidating—his look, his manner, his dark uniform. He scared the hell out of her. She wouldn’t be able to get away from him fast enough. As soon as she found an opportunity to escape, she’d take it.

  Meg didn’t understand why he made her ride in the backseat of his patrol car all the way to the hospital. It wasn’t like she was a criminal. She could only hope his deputies didn’t find the body. Or she might never be free again.

  His radio went off. He spoke into it, responding to the caller. Meg studied his profile as he glanced to the right, then the left, before turning out onto the highway. The sheriff frightened her more than any man she’d ever met, except one, but right now he was a close second. His title was only part of the problem. So was his authoritative, intimidating manner. She’d met her share of cops, her share of men, but no one quite like him. Her senses had been heightened and she’d been aware of his every move, his every word, his every breath, even the way he smelled. Damn, the man smelled good. Even now she caught a faint whiff of his cologne from the front seat, a mixture of pine and woods and other subtle scents. Her cheeks heated. She’d never noticed the way a man smelled before.

  She’d been rude to him, which was unlike her, but she was so scared of what might happen to her, and confused by her unwanted awareness of the man, that the disrespectful words had flown unheeded from her lips. What was wrong with her? Now she was embarrassed by her behavior. Insulting the county sheriff? Threatening to blackmail him? What the hell had she been thinking? He was likely to throw her in jail and leave her there for a long time.

  The throbbing in her arm increased, becoming merciless. She bent forward in the seat, clutched her injured wrist against her chest, and moaned.

  “Are you all right back there?” Sheriff Power Trip asked through the barred window between the seats.

  Meg ignored him, embarrassed that her eyes had filled with tears. She’d been strong for so long. She couldn’t show a weakness now, not in front of this arrogant cop. If she did, he’d pounce. Since he’d come upon her in the forest, she’d had at least four or five tics, which showed how stressed she was. It had been years since she’d had that many tics so close together.

  “Hang in there,” he said quietly. “We’re almost there.”

  Meg lifted her head and glared at him in the rearview mirror. Another groan escaped her lips and she leaned forward in the seat. She’d had injuries before, mostly bruises and cuts, but never any broken bones. Nothing that had ever hurt his bad. This was an experience she never wanted to repeat.

  After what seemed like hours, though Meg knew couldn’t be any more than twenty or thirty minutes, the car screeched to a halt at the small hospital emergency entrance in Sandpoint. The sheriff exited the vehicle and opened her door to let her out. She scooted across the seat, sliding her legs out of the car. His big hand closed around her upper arm. He hauled her out of the vehicle.

  Meg tried to pull away from his grip. His hand tightened around her uninjured arm. He drew her next to his side and steered her toward the entrance. Hard muscles bunched beneath the sleeve in his arm. Meg sucked in a breath, realizing how powerful he was. He was so different from Evan. Bigger. Definitely stronger. She didn’t think she’d ever met a man who was so…masculine. So in control. Terror sliced through her. She flinched and tried to pull away again. Handsome or not, he was still a cop, and it was doubtful she’d ever be able to get over her fear of authority.

  The sheriff glanced down at her. He relaxed his grip. “Behave and I’ll let go of you.”

  Meg nodded and he released her.

  The nurse at the front desk asked them to fill out the paperwork while they waited. They took empty seats in the waiting room. They were alone, no other patients in sight, the convenience of a small town emergency room at night. The sheriff picked up the pen and clipboard and glanced at her.

  “Are you going to give me your real name or are you just going to be Jane Doe?”

  “My name is Kim Johnson.” Meg held his gaze.

  His eyes narrowed, darkened with obvious disapproval. He huffed out a breath. “Fine. This will just add another offense to the list you’ve begun compiling tonight. Providing false information to medical personnel.”

  Meg fought back tears. “It’s not like I’m committing insurance fraud. I can afford to pay the bill. And I’m not a frickin’ criminal, so what’s your problem?” She reached for the clipboard with her good hand. “Give me the damn clipboard and I’ll fill it out.”

  His gaze locked on hers. They stared at each other until Meg finally lowered her gaze. She would never win with this man. He was just…too much.

  He looked away and began scribbling on the paper. Meg leaned over to see what he was writing. His cologne tickled her nostrils
, the pleasing scent making her pulse quicken. Heat rushed to her cheeks.

  She watched as he wrote her fake name in the space provided, printing neatly in all capital letters. He glanced at her.

  “Age? Date of birth? Social Security number?” He raised a brow. “Oh, let me guess, you don’t have those either, do you, since you’re not really Kim Johnson?”

  Meg glared at him, not impressed by his sarcasm, but a stubborn tear forced its way from her eye and trickled down her cheek. “You wouldn’t understand,” she whispered.

  He stared at the tear on her cheek, making her feel like a weak, pathetic woman. She wasn’t weak, damn him. Meg swiped the tear away, her gaze never leaving his.

  He glanced back at the paperwork in his lap. “Insurance?” he asked. At the negative shake of her head, he wrote, “self-pay.”

  She’d had good insurance until she’d fled and changed her identity, but she couldn’t tell him that. Changing her identity was one thing, scamming an insurance company an entirely different one and something she would never do.

  “I know, you said you could afford the bill, but I was the one who injured you, so I’ll take care of it.” The sheriff studied her with those astute gray eyes. “The county has insurance for this type of thing. It’ll go on the county’s tab.”

  She nodded, lowering her gaze in humiliation. Which meant the taxpayers would be paying her bill and that didn’t sit well with her. But there was nothing she could do about it.

  “Oh, there’s one question I forgot to ask,” the sheriff said, his gaze steady on her. “Are you a Mrs., Miss, or Ms.?”

  “Mrs.,” she blurted, not wanting to admit she was alone out there in the woods.

  He looked skeptical, but he just nodded. Meg stared as he finished the form, rose to his feet, and handed it to the nurse behind the desk. He had nice hands, long fingers. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring.

  Now why had she noticed that? A wave of heat splashed into her cheeks.

  He moved with confidence, with purpose, with an easy grace that made him appear even more compelling in that sheriff’s uniform.

  “So.” He regained his seat next to her. “Where is Mr. Johnson? Are you divorced? Separated? You said you lived alone.”

  Meg flushed, averted her gaze. He hadn’t commented again on the fact that Johnson wasn’t her real name. Maybe he’d let it go. Meg cleared her throat. “He’s, uh…he hasn’t arrived yet. I don’t expect him for a while yet.” If ever.

  “Don’t you think he would want to know if his wife was injured? Does he have a cellphone?”

  “No.” Already caught in the lie, Meg couldn’t think of anything else to say. She could feel the man’s intense scrutiny.

  “Don’t you want to let him know you’re in the hospital?”

  “I don’t want to worry him,” she said. “Besides, I’m not that badly hurt. I’ll call him in the morning.”

  “Kim Johnson?”

  It took Meg a moment to realize she was being called—she was still trying to get used to her fake name. She leapt to her feet, eager to get away from the sheriff and his intrusive questions. She hurried across the room to where the nurse waited, refusing to look back to see if the sheriff followed.

  “Sheriff Sullivan!” the nurse cried. “It’s so good to see you! What are you doing here?”

  He had moved up behind Meg, his attention now on the nurse. The young woman gazed up at the sheriff with pure longing in her eyes.

  “Oh, give me a break!” Meg muttered under her breath.

  Both the sheriff and the young nurse looked at her.

  “My arm?” she reminded, lifting the injured appendage for the nurse to see.

  “Oh, do come back with your prisoner,” the nurse invited the sheriff. “We can talk while the doctor looks at her.”

  Prisoner? Meg had to bite her tongue. The county sheriff and his admirers were starting to annoy her.

  She was led to a small examining room, where the nurse took her vital signs, then informed her the doctor would be with her shortly. Meg was then left alone while the nurse and the sheriff disappeared down the hallway.

  “Good riddance.” The pain in her arm was becoming unbearable and she was eager to have it taken care of.

  A few minutes later there was a knock on the door, then it opened.

  Meg couldn’t hide her disappointment when the sheriff strode in with a confidence that worried her. Why was the man so damned sure of himself? She turned away from him, not in the mood for any more conversation.

  He stood before her for several long moments, staring down at her, until she lifted her gaze. She felt a tic trying to come on and it took all her willpower to keep it back.

  “What now?”

  “My deputies couldn’t find any hard evidence that someone was injured or killed on your property. And we don’t have a body. I’m sure you know that signs of a struggle don’t necessarily mean injury or death to a person. It could have been a deer or an elk or something.” He paused. The look in his eyes said he didn’t believe that for a second. “So, what do I do with you?”

  He was testing her. Meg had no doubt of that. He was trying to get her to mess up and admit to something.

  I’m not admitting to anything.

  She lifted her chin. “You let me go, of course.”

  His gaze narrowed on hers. “See, now that’s the problem. If I let you go, I have a feeling you’ll just disappear and I’ll never find out what really happened out there.”

  Meg had a feeling he hadn’t believed anything she’d said. But she refused to admit she’d done anything wrong. She was not going to jail. Somehow she had to convince him to let her go.

  “What if I escape when you’re not looking?” After she said it, she realized how ludicrous it sounded. She doubted she could pull anything over the man’s eyes. He would always be looking.

  For a moment he appeared surprised by her words. Then he barked out a laugh. It transformed his face from stern authority to breathtaking handsomeness. Meg’s breath caught. She jerked her gaze away.

  “Somehow I can easily picture you doing that,” he said with a chuckle.

  She forced herself to meet his gaze again. “You can’t hold me without any evidence.” If he was as smart as she sensed he was, then he already knew that.

  “True. If you want to run out of the hospital with a broken arm, go right ahead.” He waved his arm toward the door. He was mocking her. “But…” he went on, “if you flee while you’re still being investigated, that would make you look guilty as hell, don’t you think?”

  Meg held his gaze. She would not let him intimidate her.

  “And you haven’t given me your real name,” he added sternly, “so when we get done here, I’m taking you down to the jail for fingerprinting.”

  “Fine.”

  He cocked a brow. “Fine? You’re not going to put up a fight?”

  She shrugged. “Why would I? I told you I’m not a criminal. I have nothing to hide.”

  He snorted out a disbelieving laugh. “Nothing but your name.”

  Meg lowered her gaze. Damn, the man was infuriating. The pain in her arm was making her more irritable by the moment. If he was itching for a fight, he was about to get one.

  “Would you be willing to submit to a urinalysis?”

  He did think she was high. For some reason, that embarrassed her more than it ever had before. Her face burned. She wanted him to know she wasn’t a druggie, but she didn’t dare contemplate why she would care what he thought when she never cared what anyone else thought.

  “You think I’m high?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I do. Will you take a UA?”

  Meg glared. “Damn right I will. I’m not high.”

  He looked surprised by her acquiescence. “Okay, then. If you’re not high, a UA will prove it.”

  A knock came at the door, then it opened. The doctor entered. Meg remained silent as the examination began, but she was well aware of Sheriff Sullivan’s gaze, w
atching her the entire time. She wished the man would leave. He disturbed her. Far more than she cared to admit.

  Finally a technician came and led Meg away for x-rays. She hoped the arrogant sheriff was gone when she got back.

  But knew she couldn’t be so lucky.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The woman was lying. Zach had always been good at reading people. “Kim Johnson” was a terrible liar. Her expressive eyes gave away her emotions, fear being at the top of the list. She was the wiliest female he’d ever met. He had a feeling it would be a battle of wits as much as wills with her. He was looking forward to his next encounter with her, curious to see what she’d say and do next.

  Without a body, and no real evidence against her, he couldn’t hold her. His deputies had found an area behind her house where it looked like a struggle of some kind had occurred. The underbrush was smashed flat and a trail that led to the river indicated something or someone had been dragged to the water’s edge. They’d searched the water with their flashlights but had been unable to find anything in the dark. They planned to continue the investigation first thing in the morning.

  Zach intended to be there when they did. If “Kim Johnson” had murdered someone, he wanted to be there when they found a body.

  She was in surgery right now. A broken scaphoid. Zach had listened while the doctor explained to “Mrs. Johnson” about what the x-rays had revealed. He’d never heard of a scaphoid before, but now he knew it was a small bone at the base of the wrist.

  He’d broken it when he’d knocked the woman down. Zach still felt guilty about that. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He owed her an apology.

  The orthopedic surgeon was repairing the tiny break to her wrist with a screw. Then they would cast it until it healed. Approximately six weeks.

  She’d consented to a UA and the nurse had already shown Zach the results.

  Negative.

  He had to admit to being surprised by that, so he’d asked them to do a more detailed analysis with bloodwork. The results would take a few days to come back, but at least he’d have proof. Bloodwork didn’t lie.