And right now, she wanted to show him how much she appreciated it. She leaned back in.
“I’m so glad you’re not hurt,” he whispered against her lips.
She jerked back, a jolt of realization and horror slicing through her. She’d been so distracted by Colter—by his reinjuring his leg, by her feelings for him—that she’d forgotten to tell him what she’d discovered.
With tears pricking her eyes, she scrambled off him. “Colter, I found her.”
“What?”
“I think I found Alanna.”
Chapter Twelve
Kensie’s words filtered slowly through Colter’s haze of desire. “You what?”
“I think I found her, Colter.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pacing in front of him.
Rebel stood near the bottom of his recliner, her ears perked, head swiveling to follow Kensie’s frantic movements.
“Okay.” Colter leaned forward, then grimaced as pain jolted up his thigh. It had faded into the background with Kensie’s soft lips on his, her skin beneath his fingers. Now it was back, full force. Swallowing nausea, he studied her.
A minute ago, she’d been fire and energy in his lap. Now, she was all nervous agitation and desperate hope. “Tell me what happened.”
“It’s that guy. The one I saw in the snowplow store.”
“Henry Rollings?”
“Yeah. I followed him toward the end of the shops and then he turned a corner and I lost him. I was trying to decide which way he’d gone when I saw Alanna heading into the area with the storage units.”
Colter absorbed her words more slowly than he would have liked, still a little distracted by the swollen pinkness of her lips, the rapid rise and fall of her chest. By the memory imprinted on his mind of her climbing on top of him, of the touch of her fingertips still searing his skin. “Why would she go back there? Was he dragging her?”
“No.” Kensie stopped moving, her shoulders slumping, lines knitting her forehead. “She just walked in. It was after I’d lost him. I was trying to decide his most likely route when I spotted her.”
Rebel moved as soon as Kensie stopped, hurrying over and shoving her nose under Kensie’s hand. Without seeming to realize it, Kensie started petting Rebel, who sat and made herself comfortable.
“So, you followed this woman you think is Alanna?” Colter clarified. “Not Henry?”
Her head jerked back slightly. “Well, yeah, I guess so. I just assumed he went that way, too, once I saw her.”
“And what about Danny? Was he with her?”
“No, Danny was following me.”
Colter held back the slew of questions that bubbled up. When had she spotted Danny following her? Why had she gone into a deserted location if she’d known Danny was on her trail?
Colter didn’t ask because he knew the answer. Her sister.
Kensie’s lips folded upward, contrition in her gaze as her hand went still on Rebel’s head. “I had to try and get to her, Colter.”
“I understand.” And he did. He didn’t blame her for it, either, no matter the state of his leg. “But what would you have done if you’d caught up to her? If she was really walking that way without being forced...”
The thought trailed off as he realized that the truck that had flown past him moments before he’d heard Kensie’s scream—the one he’d thought carried Kensie away from him—must have held Alanna. He’d been devastated, thinking it was Kensie being ripped out of his life. So how must Kensie feel, knowing it was the sister she’d been searching for since she was thirteen?
“Are you sure it was her?” He had to ask, even though he couldn’t deny the resemblance. But then, he’d only gotten a brief glimpse of the woman in the truck’s passenger seat. Dark hair, similar profile. He’d just assumed, because he knew Kensie had gone in that direction.
Maybe Kensie was just assuming, too, because she wanted so desperately for it to be Alanna.
The woman he’d seen hadn’t been tied down in the back, out of sight. She’d been sitting up in the passenger seat as if she was there of her own free will. None of that sounded like a woman who’d been kidnapped.
“I-it had to be her,” Kensie said. He must have looked unconvinced, because she started petting Rebel again, faster, as she rushed on. “I yelled her name. She turned toward me when she heard it, Colter. It was her. It was Alanna.”
“Are you sure? Then why did she keep going? Maybe she just turned because you startled her, Kensie.” He didn’t want to destroy her hope, but he had to ask.
“Long-term kidnapping victims bond to their captors,” Kensie told him haltingly, like she didn’t want to know about such things, let alone talk about them. “They do it just to survive. Someone like Alanna, grabbed when she was only five...” She broke off on a sob that she quickly stifled. “It’s possible she doesn’t even know she was kidnapped, that she doesn’t remember her family. That she doesn’t remember me.”
“I’m sorry.” He cursed himself for not thinking it through. It made sense. Long-term prisoners of war sometimes did the same thing.
Not wanting Kensie to dwell on what her sister might have endured over all those years, he turned the conversation in another direction. “Are you sure she was with Henry? Did you ever see them together?”
Kensie squinted up at the ceiling, like she was trying to recall, then finally shook her head. “No, I can’t be positive. I assume it was him driving the truck I saw her in, but I couldn’t actually see the driver. But what are the chances he led me that way and then Alanna just happened to be there? Especially after he ran from me at the snowplow store when I started asking questions?”
Unless he was trying to lead Kensie to her sister. Trying to lure her into a trap she couldn’t resist and then grab her, too. But Danny Weston had almost beaten him to it. Colter kept the dark thoughts to himself.
He also didn’t voice a more immediate concern. If Henry thought Kensie was following him around, if he knew she’d seen Alanna, would he disappear now?
He should suggest the possibility to Kensie, but he didn’t want her running off trying to find Henry alone. Especially if Henry had hoped to take both sisters. Because, right now, Henry had a big advantage. He knew Kensie would do whatever it took to save Alanna. And they still had no real idea where to look for him.
Besides, no matter how much he wanted to be, Colter was in no shape to go anywhere right now. Not even to help Kensie. No matter how badly he wished he could.
“It had to be Henry, right?” Kensie pressed when he stayed quiet too long.
“Probably,” Colter agreed, but his mind was only half on Henry now. Because maybe they were both letting their hopes run wild.
Alanna had been missing for a long time. What was the likelihood Kensie had just spotted her walking around town, no matter how deserted it was? Especially after that note had shown up and drawn the FBI, making the townspeople more alert for a possible sighting of the missing woman? Would a kidnapper really let her out into public with that added scrutiny?
Kensie told him she was pretty sure she’d seen Alanna, but maybe that was just because she wanted it so badly. The FBI thought the note was a hoax. Maybe this wasn’t real, either, just a woman who looked like Alanna might have after fourteen years of growing up.
Maybe the best thing he could do for Kensie wasn’t to help her chase these potentially dangerous men, but to help her move on with her own life. Help her accept that Alanna was gone. Help her realize that her own life was still worth living, that she deserved to have her own future.
Except how could he do that when he didn’t believe the same was true for himself?
* * *
THE WAY A person changed between the ages of five and nineteen was enormous. Colter had been right to ask if she could be sure the woman she’d seen was Alanna. The very idea that it might not be made Kensie’s
chest constrict and her brain want to shut down. She’d spent so long searching. She wasn’t sure she could bear another dead end.
But this time really did feel different. She couldn’t explain it, except that it had been years since she’d felt this surge of hope, this restrained happiness waiting to burst free. In the beginning, she’d experienced it often. But over the years, that had faded, leaving behind a hope that was much more jaded, much more cautious.
Since she’d first heard about the note in Desparre, though, something had taken hold of her, something deeper than desperation. She wanted to believe it was the bond she and Alanna had always shared, rearing up and screaming at her not to miss her chance to bring Alanna home.
“Kensie.”
Colter’s voice broke through her thoughts and she realized he was stretching his hand toward her. She stepped closer, threading her fingers through his and hanging on tight.
Rebel scooted forward, too, nudging up to Kensie’s side the way she’d seen the dog do with Colter.
With the two of them beside her, Kensie’s tension eased a little. Knowing she truly wasn’t in this alone cleared the panic from her mind enough to strategize. “I think we should go to the police. They must be able to get an address for Henry Rollings.”
“Not necessarily,” Colter replied. “And they don’t really have a reason to give it to us even if they have it. But I have to be honest, Kensie. From what I’ve heard about this guy, I think he lives off the grid. No one in the bar could tell me quite where, even the longtime locals, which says he doesn’t want anyone to know.”
“Well, the police should at least be able to help us—”
“We don’t have any evidence that he’s done anything wrong,” Colter reminded her. “We can’t even be sure this woman was with him or that she’s actually Alanna.”
“But—”
“We can try the police if you want. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up for their help. Look, a military investigation is different, so maybe I’m wrong or we’ll get lucky. I’m just telling you what I know about the process. You’ve probably encountered it, too.”
“Yeah.” Evidence was king. Police generally weren’t interested in the theories of civilians. It was fair, but frustrating.
She stared at Colter, and she couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting to his bare chest. For a man who’d sustained a serious injury a year ago, he was in amazing shape. Running her hands over all of those muscles had made her giddy with lust. Her fingers twitched in his now, wanting a return visit.
Forcing her gaze back up, Kensie said, “I don’t need the police. I know you can help me track Rollings.”
Colter’s lips pressed together into a hard line. “I’m going to do my best, Kensie, but tonight...” He sighed heavily.
“I know. It’s okay. We should wait for the light anyway, and honestly, I’m still a little shaken up from earlier.”
It was true. If she let herself think too long about how close she’d come to being Danny Weston’s prey—for whatever terrible thing he had planned for her—she’d lose it. Only Colter’s kisses and his soft touch had swept away the lingering feel of Danny’s aggressive, sweaty hands.
Still, the words were hard to say, because the truth was that she wanted to rush back out now. She was terrified that since Henry had spotted her following him, he’d skip town for good and take Alanna with him. But Kensie also had fourteen years of practice watching how investigations worked. Right now, she had no clue where to find Henry. And she’d learned her lesson about going after him alone.
She needed Colter. And she needed him uninjured. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”
“I know my injury, Kensie. It probably seems like I’m being a typical boneheaded man, but I’ve lived with this for the past year. It hurts pretty bad right now, but it’s nothing compared to what it was like even six months ago. It’ll heal. It’ll suck in the meantime, but it’ll heal. I need elevation, ice and rest.”
She peeled her hand free and hurried into the attached kitchen to get him some ice. “How much rest?” It was insensitive, but as much as she wanted Colter’s help, time mattered right now. If he was going to be out of commission for a week, she’d have to find someone else to assist her.
The idea of having anyone else by her side while she searched for Alanna made anxiety gnaw away at her. Somehow, in two days, Colter and Rebel had managed to become much more than just local help. Much more than tools in the search for her sister. They’d become her friends, her support system.
She faltered, a bag full of ice in her hands. Colter had done so much for her, and when he’d said he should be dead alongside his brothers, words had failed her. Just like she’d failed him in that moment.
“Kensie?” Colter called. “What’s wrong?”
How could he read her so well already? She’d never been someone who wore her feelings all over her face. Slamming the freezer door shut, she strode over to him and carefully placed the ice on his thigh.
Colter flinched at the contact, but didn’t make a sound, except to say, “Thanks.”
There was another chair on the opposite side of the room, but Kensie didn’t want to be that far away when she broached the topic of his lost friends. So she perched on the edge of the hearth, her heart pounding frantically.
Since she’d gotten involved with groups chasing cold cases, she’d met a lot of families of victims. Some had gotten the worst possible news during the time she’d known them. When she could, she’d tried to support them, all the while praying she’d never be one of them. But she’d learned quickly that what helped one person hurt another. And she didn’t want to hurt Colter. He’d faced too much pain already.
“Colter...”
He turned toward her, his beautiful blue eyes narrowing like he knew what was coming. Rebel rose from her spot on the other side of his recliner and ran around, plopping down between them. Ears perked, chin up, she stared at Colter like she was waiting for him to say something.
Kensie spoke first. “I like the picture in your room. The one where you have Rebel on your shoulders.”
At her name, the dog’s head swiveled toward Kensie, her tail wagging.
A short burst of laughter, half amusement at Rebel and half nervousness about the conversation, broke free. “Those were your brothers with you, right? Your Marine brothers?”
The picture had been perched sideways on his nightstand, as though sometimes he wanted to see it and others he turned it away from him. The photo showed everyone covered in dust, looking exhausted, and she’d wondered if they’d just returned from a mission, wondered what they’d been doing. Colter was in the middle, Rebel’s front legs dangling over one shoulder and her back legs dangling over the other, with Colter holding both. Her tongue had been lolling out, her eyes a little droopy, like she was just as tired as the soldiers. But they’d all been smiling. Even Rebel’s mouth was stretched outward, like she was happy, too.
“Kensie, you’ve seen what happens when I even think about that day.” His voice grew quiet, like he hated admitting it. “I break down. I can’t function. I don’t want to talk about—”
“You don’t have to tell me how they died, Colter. I want to know how they lived. You loved them, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And they loved you.”
It wasn’t a question, but he nodded anyway.
“Don’t you think they’d want—”
“Me to live?” Colter interrupted with a humorless laugh. “You think psychiatrists haven’t played this game with me, Kensie?”
“It’s not a ga—”
“It’s not about that. Of course they’d want me to live. We all lived and breathed by the same code. Loyalty. We did everything together. And maybe that’s half the point. They all had families at home waiting for them. Every single one of them. Except me.”
He leaned forward, pain all over his face—but from his wound or his memories, she wasn’t sure. “How is that fair?”
“It’s not fair,” she answered softly. “But you deserve a chance at happiness, too. You deserve a family.”
As she spoke the words, she could actually imagine a family for him. A little boy with Colter’s sky-blue eyes. Twin girls with Colter’s slow grin and her own dark hair. Rebel chasing after all of them in a yard behind a cheerful yellow house. She and Colter watching, holding hands and laughing.
Kensie swayed backward at the intensity of her fantasy, at how real it felt, how possible. But it wasn’t. Not even close. Her time with Colter was temporary.
Colter said something, but the words didn’t process over the roaring crescendo of her heartbeat in her ears. Somehow, over the course of two days, she’d done more than just develop a silly crush on Colter.
She’d gone and fallen halfway in love with him.
Chapter Thirteen
She was falling in love with Colter Hayes. A man she barely knew.
It was ridiculous. It shouldn’t even be possible. And yet, her heart thumping madly and her face flushing with the fear he might read her feelings in her eyes told her it was true.
“Kensie.”
The way Colter said her name suggested he’d been repeating it. She jerked her gaze up to his, seeing the mix of confusion and concern.
His hands were braced on the recliner, all the distracting muscles in his arms outlined. “You swayed backward like you lost your balance. I think it might be from hitting your head. Maybe we need to get you to the hospital, get you an MRI.”
How did she explain what had just happened without admitting her newly realized feelings? A burst of nervous laughter escaped.
Colter shoved himself forward, sliding down the recliner. At the motion, his jaw clamped so tightly that his lips turned inward and moisture filled the corners of his eyes. “What’s going on? You need a doctor to check you out.”
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