Mistaken Twin

by Jodie Bailey

  Jenna backed one more step away from him. For a brief moment, she’d lost herself. She’d let herself believe things with Wyatt could be different. And maybe they could be.

  Maybe.

  If they both survived.

  Her head swung from side to side, an involuntary negative, a no that tore at her heart as his expression shifted from desire to questions. “Jenna...”

  “I can’t do this.”

  His jaw tightened. “You can’t do what?” The words ground out between clenched teeth, but it wasn’t anger. It was hurt. Rejection.

  Jenna knew the emotion all too well, but she couldn’t apologize. Couldn’t reach over and make it all better. If she did, there’d be no way to save him, no way to make sure he lived until this was all over and she could tell him the truth... The truth that he was now holding her very fragile heart in his very strong hands.

  “You can’t do what, Jenna? Care about me? Trust me? Believe I’m not like everybody else?”

  The intensity of his questions nearly broke her. Sure, she’d told him she knew he was different, but she couldn’t say it again, couldn’t reassure him how much she knew it with everything in her, not if she wanted to protect him. After this was over and she was safe, she would find him again, she’d tell him.

  If he’d still have her.

  “You have to leave.”

  “I have to...what?” He looked incredulous, and the slight arrogance that had always coated their dealings with one another slipped into his expression. The old Wyatt. The one she’d done battle with so many times before.

  The one who had been gathering little pieces of her heart since the first moment she’d laid eyes on him.

  This was the precise reason he couldn’t stay. Too many times he’d been in danger because of her. Her eyes roamed his face, landing on the scrapes that highlighted his cheekbone. He’d been attacked in the alley the very first night, nearly killed because of her. He’d been beside her in Christa’s studio and in the fire, both of their lives in equal danger. If he stayed, if he continued with this insane drive to put himself between her and death, eventually he’d catch what someone was aiming at her.

  She might physically survive such an encounter, but it would kill her all the same.

  “You have to go to Mountain Springs.” Jenna turned away from him as his eyes widened slightly. “You have to...go.”

  “Uh-huh.” The utterance slipped out in a way that sounded as though he hadn’t meant for it to. “Okay. No.”

  “Wyatt. Please.” The desperation in her voice would give her away if he caught it.

  “The answer’s no.” Every trace of emotion had been stripped from his voice. His words were plain, matter-of-fact and totally commanding. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you should know games are the last thing I’ll stand for.”

  Her mouth opened, closed. She wavered and nearly turned, but her resolve kicked in and she hardened her expression. He couldn’t see how much this was hurting her. He simply had to leave.

  “I have no idea what you think is happening here, either with Meyer or between us, but games are dangerous. You of all people should know they are. But you understand this—as long as you’re in danger, I’m not leaving. Ever. You should have figured that out about me by now, Jenna, but maybe...” He exhaled loudly and as he walked away, his footsteps fell softly on the hardwood, his voice coming from farther away, near the door this time. “Maybe neither of us knows the other as well as I thought.”

  The door whispered almost silently and clicked softly shut behind him.

  Jenna sank to the edge of the bed and stared at the door, fighting the urge of her muscles to chase him, wishing he’d throw the door open and refuse to let her push him away.

  He didn’t come back, and she didn’t follow him. It was for the best, the only way. If she survived this, if she came out on the other side still breathing, then... Then she could tell him he’d managed to do the impossible.

  To put together the pieces of her shattered heart.

  It didn’t matter, though. Whatever it was he’d been saying about value and the sparrow verse she’d heard so many times...none of it mattered. Because in the end, she knew what she was worth, knew the only thing she was good for was being left behind.

  * * *

  Wyatt wanted to put his fist through the wall. Seriously. Straight through the Sheetrock. And if he hit a stud in the process, so much the better. The pain in his hand would surely eclipse the pain in his chest.

  Doubtful.

  The pain in his chest might kill him.

  Wyatt turned and stared at the door he’d closed behind him. He’d left his heart on the other side. Had ripped it out of his chest, handed it to Jenna Clark, and she’d ground her heel into it.

  Aiming to protect herself, to hold her heart out of reach. Exactly like Kari. She’d drawn him in. Had made him feel. Had dragged his head right out of sane, rational thought. He’d let her do it.

  And it had cost him. Again.

  Exactly. Like. Kari.

  He’d known better than to get involved with a woman who was adept at deception. Who’d made it an art form in order to survive.

  In order to survive. His shoulders stooped, the fight leaking out with his own unfairness. No. This time with Jenna was nothing like Kari.

  Kari had lured him in. She’d baited the hook with a look and set it with a toss of her fiery red hair. They’d been at a backyard party, celebrating his buddy’s marriage. Wyatt was nineteen, away from home, missing the anchor of family. There’d been some jealousy, too. O’Bryan was starting a life, would have someone to come home to, a place to lay his head other than a barracks room.

  Someone to wait for him while he was deployed and to be there when he marched back in a year later.

  If only Wyatt had been smart enough to recognize his own weakness. Kari had spotted his need for someone to care about him from across the yard and sashayed right in. She’d been the one to take the lead with their relationship, short as it had been, a whirlwind in the months leading to deployment. She’d been the one to float the idea of a wedding, of how romantic it would be to send him off as his wife and welcome him back to their very own home.

  And he’d swallowed the hook. Infatuated, puffed up with the idea a beauty like her wanted to be his forever.

  That beauty had been playing games with his life. Calculating his hazardous duty pay and hoping for the payoff of a fat insurance check if he returned in a flag-draped coffin.

  His heart had iced over.

  Until Jenna.

  Wyatt fixed his gaze on the closed door, his ear straining to hear movement, to hear her come looking for him.

  There was nothing but silence.

  Jenna wasn’t Kari. She’d never pursued him. In fact, from the first time he’d met her, she’d done anything but. She’d held him at arm’s length, trying to hide the truth.

  But not for the same reasons as Kari. Kari had been manipulative. Jenna had been fighting to survive.

  He’d given her zero reason to trust him until a few days ago. His gut had skewed him sideways every time she was around, reacting to her in a way that sounded the alarm to steer clear. He’d thought it was because she was hiding.

  Now, having held her in his arms... Having let her into his head and heart... Having kissed her...

  It was so much more. He could still see her the first time he’d met her. He’d been about to go on duty, wanting to check on Erin, who’d made a fast friend of the stranger in town.

  Wyatt didn’t trust fast friends. Not after Kari.

  He’d looked for his cousin at Jenna’s shop, where they were painting the inside a funky teal green. Jenna and Erin had been laughing as they sang a nineties boy-band song banging through the speakers in the shop. Jenna had one streak of blue paint in her hair and another on her che
ek.

  Wyatt’s jaw had nearly dropped. His heart had jumped, jolting in his chest like never before.

  As quickly as it leaped, it had hardened against her.

  He’d been afraid. Every single time he got around her, his heart pushed her away, because it knew. It knew the ice would crack for Jenna Clark.

  His heart had failed, softening anyway. He knew because the ache of her turning away proved she’d destroyed every wall he’d ever built.

  Wyatt reached for the door. He wasn’t going to let her push him away, not this easily.

  His fingers wrapped around the knob. He had no idea what he was going to say to her, but he had to—

  “Stephens.”

  The call from the living room dropped his hand from the door, dragging his attention from the woman behind it.

  Agent Nance stood at the end of the hall with Agent Howell right behind him. “If you’re going to be a part of this, you need to be read in.”

  Wyatt glanced at the door then turned toward the two federal agents, torn between his duty and his desire. Exactly the dangerous place Rich had warned him not to be.

  With a last glance at the door, he chose the duty that could save Jenna’s life and strode up the short hallway past the other two bedrooms. With the blinds closed and the front door locked tight, the spacious apartment felt more like an underwater prison than a luxury Asheville rental.

  Prisoner was probably exactly how Jenna felt right now.

  Wyatt could feel the itch himself. As he took the seat Agent Howell indicated at the dining room table, he cast a glance toward the door. Time overseas in crowded markets, constantly alert for suicide bombers or shooters, had dampened his enthusiasm for crowds in a big way. He’d never liked them to begin with. Now, he barely enjoyed Mountain Springs when the tourist crowds picked up. While the only people who’d been in sight near the building when he arrived were a small group of gardeners a couple of buildings away, the space around him still felt overpopulated.

  Being trapped in a brick-and-vinyl apartment building in the center of dozens of identical brick-and-vinyl apartment buildings fired an urge to roam. If he’d had any sort of leverage with this small federal team, he’d have insisted they go to Rich’s place. The man had hundreds of acres on the side of one of the nearby mountains. Wyatt would have been a lot more comfortable defending a position from one of the many hunting cabins on Rich’s property than he was here.

  This apartment made no sense. Located on the second floor, the front door was their sole escape route, unless they wanted to drop Jenna off the balcony by the master bedroom, where she was currently hiding. Sure, like Jenna’s apartment, there was only one way in...but there was also only one way out.

  Nance turned to Wyatt as soon as everyone was settled around the table. “Ms. Clark trusts you more than anyone else, so we’re bringing you into the investigation we’ve been conducting with your department for the past five months.”

  “Wait.” Wyatt straightened and leaned closer to the table. “Five months? You’ve been partnered with my department for five months and I—”

  “Need to know, Officer Stephens. We’ve been working closely with Chief Thompson, and he’s been the only one to know about our presence since we announced we’d ended the investigation into the incident on Overton Road.”

  Wyatt sat back in the seat, staring at the blinds behind Agent Nance. He’d helped investigate the truck. He’d talked to the chief numerous times over the months, sharing suspicions, bouncing off ideas, keeping their eyes open, yet he’d been left completely out of the loop. Did Arch not trust him? Or was something more going on?

  “Now isn’t the time for your ego to get in the way.” Nance flipped open his laptop and didn’t spare another glance to Wyatt.

  Anger flared, then cooled. The man was right. Rich’s warning against emotions getting in the way didn’t apply solely to his feelings for Jenna. It applied to all of them. He found the place that dropped him into sheer reason and focused on the agents before him. “What do I need to know?”

  “So far, Grant Meyer has managed to evade arrest. A joint task force between the FBI, Homeland Security and local law enforcement in El Paso had him under surveillance, but he was tricky. Until Amy Brady passed us a hefty amount of information on his dealings, we had nothing solid. She agreed to dig deeper, to try to insinuate herself into his confidence so we could get enough information to put the nails in his coffin without any loopholes. Unfortunately, Meyer found out. Because we’d already managed to turn one man in his organization, we were able to intercept the hit. She was relocated.”

  “So she is alive.”

  “Yes.”

  “When can Jenna know?”

  “When we know it’s safe.”

  They couldn’t ask him to keep this from Jenna. They had to know Wyatt wouldn’t betray her. His leg bounced, urging him to go to her.

  “Focus, Officer Stephens.” Nance was all business.

  And he was right. For now. “Let me guess. Your man on the inside was Logan Cutter. You offered him a deal, and he turned on Meyer.” Figured. Cutter would get away with what he’d done to those women and to Jenna.

  Wyatt balled his fists under the table. Except it hadn’t quite worked out for him. Clearly, Meyer had found out and had the man killed a few months... “Wait.” Timing clicked into place. “Meyer had Cutter killed. What are the odds Cutter let out the truth about Amy still being alive?”

  “High.” Agent Howell laid her hands flat on the table. “He got awfully close to her at one point and she had to be moved.”

  “So when someone spotted Jenna they assumed—”

  “They assumed she was her sister,” Nance said. “Amy Brady is the sole remaining link who can put Meyer’s organization out of business for good. He knows she’s a danger to him and will do anything to find her. We believe he’s close by. He was spotted in Tennessee two days ago. There’s only one reason he’d be heading east.”

  Agent Howell balled her fists. “And we will stop him.”

  Suddenly, everything made sense. The move to Asheville. The strange location of the apartment. The gardeners outside a secure location. Fire blew through Wyatt. He stood and looked at the two agents, fear for Jenna’s life nearly melting his joints. “I know what you’re doing.”

  Agent Nance rose. “Officer Stephens—”

  “No. You want to use Jenna to draw out Meyer. That’s the whole reason you’re here. It’s not to protect her. It’s to get your man.”

  Reaching for a folder in the center of the table, Howell hesitated. “No one said such a thing.” She glanced at Wyatt then at Agent Nance before she drew the folder closer, then reached back to tighten the band holding her straight brown hair in a ponytail.

  Wyatt’s adrenaline surged. From the small amount of time they’d spent together over the past few hours, he knew the FBI agent wasn’t one to use a lot of words. He’d assumed there was little she could say, since he wasn’t at their level of clearance.

  But the move...the hesitation, the glance, the attempt to draw his attention to her looks by playing with her hair... She was hiding something. He’d seen Kari do the same thing many times when he’d asked her why she was running late or hadn’t answered his calls for hours.

  Freeze. Speak the lie. Touch her hair or her neck to distract him. Except with Kari, it was usually because she wanted to distract him when he grew suspicious of her motives.

  With Agent Howell, it could simply be Wyatt’s concern... Or it could be that she was playing a dangerous game with Jenna’s life.

  FOURTEEN

  “I’m not letting you do this to her.” Wyatt’s voice came through the door, raised and angry.

  Jenna stood from her perch on the side of the bed, where she’d been praying since he walked out. Praying for clarity. For safety. For an end to the nightmare.

 
Wyatt’s words shattered the holy silence. She’d seen him irritated before, annoyed, even on the verge of losing his temper, but this? This bordered on rage. It shuddered inside her, an echo of Logan’s fury the night he’d nearly killed her.

  Jenna walked to the door and rested her hand on the knob. This time, the anger wasn’t against her.

  It was for her.

  The peace she’d found in prayer, the certainty that she could trust Wyatt to have her back, washed over Jenna in a calm stillness, in a sense telling her she needed to follow wherever he led. I’ll do it, Lord, but please... Please don’t let him get hurt.

  Footsteps thudded on the hardwood, coming closer.

  “Stephens, you have no authority.” Jenna backed away from the door as Agent Nance’s voice drifted up the hallway. “There’s a team in place to protect—”

  The words stopped abruptly as the door opened. Wyatt stood there, once again a silhouette, but this time, his stance was tense, his movements urgent. In the shadows, his eyes were hard as he reached out for her. “We have to get you out of here.”

  Jenna let him take her hand. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not...” He searched her face as though deciding what he wanted to say. “You’re not safe here. We have to leave. Now.”

  “It’s too late to get out of here.” Agent Nance followed him into the doorway. “They already know. We’ve been tracking them since one of his men followed you here. It’s only a matter of time before they arrive.”

  “Who’s they? Who’s coming?” Jenna’s heart beat faster. She gripped Wyatt’s hand tighter, her earlier peace shattered. “Wyatt?”

  He never turned to her but kept his gaze fixed hard on Agent Nance in a staredown he seemed determined to win. “They’re using you as bait. Meyer knows where you are. No one followed me here, so it must have been Agent Howell. Wherever the plane landed, they knew Meyer would be watching.” Wyatt lifted his head and looked toward the living room. “You let them follow you here. Let them think they had the upper hand while you knew all along. And no one clued me in.” He drew Jenna to him. “I’m supposed to be the one protecting her and no one clued me in.” He ground out the last words as though they were gravel in his mouth.