“I can put you somewhere safe, Mrs. Dean,” Detective Malloy said.
“You should let the police help.” Tom rubbed her shoulder.
“I’m not hiding.” Her voice trembled and she straightened her posture. She deserved answers, and she’d get them. Besides, something deep down whispered that the police couldn’t hide her from Shane. He had skills none of them had realized. So she needed to be ready when he showed up again. And she needed to warn Tom.
Malloy nodded. “I have your contact information, Mrs. Dean. We’ll be in touch.”
They hurried out of the station. The fall sunshine failed to warm her face as Tom hustled her toward his battered truck. A scratched tool box stretched across the front of the bed, holding all of the tools Tom had brought from Texas.
The hair on the back of her neck rose. Her body instinctively stilled. She glanced around the parking lot. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. No eyes on her. But she jumped into the front seat and leaned against the clean material with a sigh.
Tom loped around the front, stepped inside, and started the engine to pull away from the station. “So. What a mess, huh?” His dimples flashed.
Josie shook her head. Leave it to Tom to try and cheer her up. “You could say that.”
“How about we drive somewhere safe? Anywhere you want to go.” Tom aimed them at the interstate toward his home outside of town.
“I’m tempted, but can’t. You know I have that audit all next week.” The books weren’t adding up at work, a fact that should be consuming her. While she’d fixed one account, she had several more to check. Plus, she’d had to start at the bottom of the Washington branch when she’d moved from California. She was a good CPA. No way was she letting Shane Dean screw up her job or her life. Not again. Besides, deep down, she knew he’d find her. No matter what.
They drove in silence for a while. Tom finally took the east exit, winding around the lake toward his home.
“I don’t suppose he signed the divorce papers before you found out Dean was a stalker.” Work-roughened hands tightened on the steering wheel, but Tom’s voice remained steady as he stopped in the driveway and pressed the garage door button.
She huffed out a breath. “That would make life too easy. I’m so sorry.” None of this was fair to him. One day in Shane’s world and she’d almost slept with him. He’d taken her heart three years ago, and she wasn’t getting it back. “I’ve really screwed things up this time.” She had no idea what Shane was up to, why he’d been watching her. But even now part of her hoped for a good explanation. She loved him. “I’m such a fool.”
Tom waited for the automatic garage door to rise. “We’ll figure this out, Josie. I promise.”
His tone was soft and gentle, and she’d heard him use it before while on the phone. She grinned. “You’re using your ‘I’m dealing with my younger sisters’ voice right now.”
He started, his eyes sparkling. “I have a voice with my sisters?”
Oh yeah. As the older brother to what sounded like three wild younger sisters, he had a tone he used. “I’ve listened to you talking to them on the phone. Last month when Sylvia wanted to drop her business major and study ceramic pottery, you really used the voice.”
Tom snorted. “That was crazy. Thank goodness she changed her mind. For now, anyway.”
What would it have been like to grow up with siblings? With people who cared what happened in her life? Josie sighed, her gaze focusing Tom’s half-finished ranch house. A tight tarp covered part of the house as Tom waited for time and money to finish it. Cedar shakes lined the sides of the finished part of the home—a place perfect for a real family. She knew Tom wanted that family. “I don’t know what to do. Nothing seems real.”
Tom pulled the car into the garage and shut off the ignition. He reached for her hand, his larger one warming hers. “Life gets messy, sweetheart.” She glanced up at his smile. “But you’re a very smart woman. I have no doubt you’ll figure this out.”
Relief and gratitude flowed through her until her knees wobbled. Tears pricked her eyes. Tom believed in her. She was smart and tougher than anyone knew. It was time she woke up. A great guy sat in front of her—one who was honest with her. A man who wanted what she needed in life—a stable home and a loving family. Kids. Sometimes her empty arms ached with the need for a baby, when she could keep one safe, that was. “I need to warn you. Shane is dangerous, and he might be coming after you. There were several pictures of you and me in his house.” If Shane hurt Tom, she’d never forgive herself.
Tom eyed her and then nodded. “I know. The police warned me.”
“So I probably shouldn’t be here.” But where could she go?
“This is exactly where you should be.” Tom brushed an errant hair off her cheek. “We’re stronger together, and don’t worry, I can fight.”
Yeah, he’d told her about his boxing for fun days. Josie sighed. “You didn’t see him fight—see him kill. He’s gifted in a bad way.”
Tom nodded and opened his door. “We’ll be safe, Josie. Come on. It’s Saturday night. Let’s have a wild one and watch a movie.” Tom tugged her from the car, enveloping her in a hug. “Life will work out. I promise.”
* * *
Shane jogged around the perimeter, the gun comfortable in his hand. He’d retrieved the nine-millimeter from the bungalow before running. His bungalow, he figured. What had he been doing spying on his own wife? He dodged around a thick spruce. Nice of Marsh to live at the edge of the forest. So many places to hide. If the bastard didn’t take his hands off Josie, the man would die at the edge of the forest. Shane paused. He’d killed before. And not just earlier that day. Was he a killer? Regularly or just for the military? Did it matter? His torso and ribs had already healed, which seemed off. Way too quick.
The forest spread out empty and safe around him. Uncertainty had him pausing. He should run. Just get the hell out of there and leave Josie to rebuild her life. He should go find those brothers he couldn’t remember.
The idea of leaving her, even for the right reasons, tightened his chest until he couldn’t breathe. Memories or not, she was his air. The fact made absolutely no sense, yet he clung to it with a desperation that scared the shit out of him. He couldn’t remember her and had certainly hurt her. Yet he couldn’t leave her again. Was it some weird stalker mentality? Or God, could it be something good? Something right?
Chances weren’t good on that score. But he wasn’t leaving until he figured it out.
He scaled a tree, perching in the top to stare down into Marsh’s sparse living room. The man ate popcorn and watched two movies with Shane’s wife. Shane could hear the television as clearly as if he were sitting in the room. Maybe he should get an MRI and see if there was some sort of implant or device in his head. No way was his hearing normal.
The cutest dimples flashed when Josie laughed at a scene. Her hands worked gracefully with her knitting as she watched the movie. Looked like she was making a scarf.
A warmth heated in Shane’s chest. She’d kicked his ass. A groin shot was an easy one to be expected from a small woman defending herself. But the kick to the head. Well now. That was impressive. No hesitation, no fear. She’d aimed for his temple and nearly knocked him out. Before she ran toward the cop.
Shane had thought about pursuing her, taking on the cop, and retrieving his wife. Too many men had still been in the house. He didn’t need to fight the entire police force. Not yet, anyway.
His gaze wandered over her pale skin and delicate features. His woman. He wondered at the possessiveness. Had he always felt it? Or was it new, flourishing since she was the only link to the life he’d led? The man he was?
As he watched her, he settled on an answer. He’d always felt it. She was his. While his motive remained unclear, he wasn’t going to figure it out while they remained apart. He needed to retrieve her and soon.
The movie ended. Tom and Josie retired to separate bedrooms. Good. Relief he probably didn’t deserve f
lowed through him. He scouted the area again. Marsh owned an acre surrounded on two sides by expansive federal land. Pine, spruce, and cottonwood trees stood like silent sentinels offering shelter. Wildlife scampered naturally. Any predators close by were solely of the four-legged variety. All was secure. Josie was safe for a while.
Shane turned to lope back through the forest toward the hidden van. He’d traded the vehicle for Josie’s SUV, leaving her car where it would be found. She needed her car.
Now he needed to question the guy at the hospital and then head to Josie’s place and check out the bugs. How many had he planted? Where and why? He hoped he didn’t have to break into the police station to see all the evidence. But if he did, then he would. Somehow he figured he had the skills. Knew he had them, in fact.
He needed to remember. Dark and blank, the interior of his head kept him out. Maybe for his own protection. Not knowing himself was driving him crazy. Why had he been stalking Josie? His fists clenched and unclenched. Who were his brothers? Did he hurt them, too? Did they want anything to do with him, or not? He had to remember his past. Maybe, no matter how bad he’d been, just maybe he could fix everything?
Something told him he wasn’t going to like who he found. Who he was. The thought weighed heavily on him, and bile rose from his stomach.
He slid into the car and drove down the road, trying to force memories into his conscience. Only a blank slate rose to his internal search. A big, black empty hole. Frustration settled like a rock in his gut. Or maybe that was fear. If he couldn’t figure out who he was, how in the world was he going to protect Josie?
If he had brothers, shouldn’t they be looking for him? The name Jory caused something to hurt in his solar plexus. A weight squeezed his lungs.
The lights of the hospital soon came into view, and he scouted the parking lot for the best space in case he needed to make a quick exit. Finding one close to the curb, he parked and jumped out, striding toward the staff door as if he had every right to do so. It was too early to search Josie’s house, so he’d make good use of his time before heading to discover her secrets, and maybe some of his own.
A nurse in green scrubs slid her card through the slider, and he opened the door for her, returning her smile as she walked inside and hurried to a large lounge set to the right.
Two steps inside and the scent of bleach slammed into him. Sparks flashed behind his eyes. He staggered against the wall as memories cut deep. A dim picture of him sitting on a gurney in a dingy hospital room with a man digging something out of his leg. Crumbling concrete made up the walls. Pain had exploded along his shin. A bullet. The man had been digging out a bullet.
Almost in slow motion, the guy rose, smiling. “Got it.”
The man had gray eyes. The exact color of Shane’s eyes.
The strangled gasp Shane made as he returned to the present echoed around the empty room. Jesus Christ. Leaning down, he rubbed a scar along his left leg. Nausea swirled in his gut. His hands shook. Finally, more memories were flooding back. Relief and fear slammed through him. He’d been shot, and his brother had helped him. The first look at his family made his mind spin. But now wasn’t the time.
Damn it. He had a job to do.
The first few steps were more like stumbles, and then he found his stride. Focus. Forget the past images and focus. The voice in his head wasn’t his, yet he trusted it implicitly. He continued down the hallway, pausing in front of a room that housed several dictating machines along with computers.
Dodging inside, he sat and let his fingers fly across the keyboard. Interesting. He knew how to type and rather quickly. He didn’t know the name of the computer program, but he knew how to use it. Several codes led him to a screen that listed all new admittances. Two pages into the database, and Shane found his man.
The world centered again. He felt nothing. Odd and creepy talent, that.
Quiet reigned along the corridor as he strode out of the computer room, peering inside supply closets until he found a light blue hospital gown and some bandages. Concentrating, he forced the millions of sounds that whirled in his head into a blur of white noise that wouldn’t disturb him. Grabbing what he needed, he hurried out of the staff area and past the emergency room, riding the elevator up to the correct floor. Disembarking, he found a restroom and hustled inside to change into the gown.
The cool breeze filtered across his butt when he stepped outside. Shane fought a growl.
An empty room contained a half-filled IV of saline, and he grabbed the piping, taping the cord to his wrist. Then he walked the hall. Room 700 soon came into view. The cop dozing outside the door may have been on the lookout for a guy in scrubs. Or a doctor’s uniform.
But not a patient.
Not a bruised, lurching, wounded patient in battered slippers tugging his IV cart behind him. As Shane limped by, the cop looked up, giving him a nod. Shane grimaced and kept walking. He lapped the entire floor, and this time when he drew near, the cop’s chin rested on his chest, his snores echoing across the hall.
Shane slid inside the room. The door clicked shut behind him. The patient lay in a neat hospital bed, much cleaner than the one that recently flared through Shane’s memory.
He ditched the IV cart and stalked toward the bed, flipping over the guy’s chart. His name was Ray. Shane’s kick to the gut had broken five ribs; one rib had pierced a lung. Ouch. Shane scratched his head. He could decipher doctor’s notes. But something told him he wasn’t a doctor.
Ray filled out the bed at probably six foot, two-fifty. Matted black hair pressed to his head. Dark circles slashed under his eyes. Surgery had probably been a bitch. Shane pressed his hand over the patient’s mouth. Ray started, his eyes flying open. He struggled, then stilled.
Shane smiled. “Sorry about the ribs.”
No response.
“So. You understand I could kill you in seconds?”
A nod.
“Good.” Shane removed his hand. “Why?”
Ray’s forehead wrinkled. “Why what?” He whispered, a good sign.
“Why did you try to kill me?”
Ray shrugged. “The job paid good. We were supposed to knock you both out and start the house on fire. I got alimony to pay—”
“I don’t care.” Shane eyed the slow breathing. The guy was drugged. “Were you watching me from a blue van the other day?”
“Yeah. We were supposed to watch you—well, until the order came in to kill you.”
“Who hired you?”
“Denny hired me.” Ray’s blue eyes hardened. “He’s the guy you stabbed to death.”
“I didn’t stab him. I sliced his jugular.” A significant difference. The fact that dumbass Ray didn’t know that showed he was just hired muscle. A moron. Certainly not trained well enough to go up against a killer. Shane might have no clue as to his identity, but something told him his enemies knew exactly who he was. Shouldn’t they have sent someone better? “Who hired Denny?”
“No fucking clue, man. Paid ten large for each of us.”
Ten grand. Josie’s life was worth less than ten grand to this asshole. Something must’ve shown on his face because Ray shrank back, jaw quivering. Shane pierced him with a glare. “You’re going to give me more than that, Ray. Because I really want to kill you right now—with a lot of pain.”
Fear widened Ray’s eyes. “Okay, I mean, okay. Denny said we had to make sure everyone in the house died, and that the whole thing burned to the ground.”
So they couldn’t be identified? Who wanted him wiped from the earth? Shane frowned. “What’s Denny’s last name?”
“Clinton. Denny Clinton. He freelances for area bookies and anyone who needs, well…”
Needs someone dead. Not much of a lead, though the fact that Denny was local created possibilities. Somebody might’ve followed Shane to Snowville and then hired local muscle. Denny could’ve been working for anybody. “I’m not going to kill you today, Ray.” Though every instinct Shane had whispered that was
a mistake.
But until he could figure out his past, he wasn’t going to do something so permanent as murder when there was a choice. Something told him once he remembered his life, he’d change that theory. Maybe he’d even hunt down good old Ray.
However, even now with his brain a blank slate, there was no question Shane would kill for Josie. He leaned forward, crowding the bed with his bulk. “But if you come near my wife again, if I even seen you in the same vicinity…”
Ray lifted bruised hands, palms out. “I get it, man. I get it.”
Chapter 8
Josie forced a polite smile on her face, letting the soft jasmine smell of her office soothe her. She’d spent the night at Tom’s, and he’d driven her to work in the morning after she’d once again refused his offer of fleeing town. No way was she abandoning this life she’d built the last two years.
Plus, she needed to figure out the discrepancy in her accounts. Numbers and order made sense. When Shane had left, her job had given her a reason to get out of bed—and there was nothing she liked more than solving a good puzzle. There was no doubt she’d been distracted the last few months since she’d sent the divorce papers to Shane. If she’d made a mistake with the math, she didn’t know what she’d do.
She walked her client, the CEO of Trenton Industries, to the door of her office, shaking his hand again. The company built USB flash drives and was wildly successful at it.
Eighty-year-old Joe Trenton patted her on the shoulder. “Golf awaits me, my dear. Excellent job on the audit.”
Yeah, she’d spent hours working on his books. Josie’s professional smile relaxed into a natural grin. “Good luck today, Mr. Trenton.”
“The magic is all in the swing, Josie. All in the swing.” The man nearly skipped down the hallway toward the elevator.
To have that much energy so late in life would be a true blessing. She kept her smile in place until the elevator door closed to whisk the elderly technology genius away.
Eyeing the clock, she flipped open the file for Larson Corporation, a fancy name for a local convenience store. Her fingers danced over the calculator, and she frowned. The receipts were exactly thirteen thousand dollars off. Now that was an unlucky number.
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