The Lonesome Lawmen Trilogy

by Pauline Baird Jones

  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you with that,” she said. “Even if I knew what you were talking about. Which I don’t.”

  “You’re far too intelligent to play games, my dear.” He gave in to the temptation to touch her, a light caress to the back of her neck. That got a reaction. She moved away from him so quickly, his hand still hung in the air. She faced him, still composed, but with an air of being on guard and ready to fight.

  “You’re right. I am. But you see, I’m not playing anything. Your first attempt and my dive, had an unfortunate side effect. I lost my memory.”

  “What?” He reared back, sex thoughts vanishing as fast they had arrived.

  “You heard me. I have no memory of anything. Amelia. Prudence. You could tell me I was Cleopatra of the Nile and I wouldn’t know. It’s all…gone. For all intents and purposes, my life began a couple of days ago.”

  Grady stared at her, his thoughts spinning in all different directions. What amazed him the most was that he believed her. It was more than the sincerity of her voice. It went deeper than that. His damn special sense told him she spoke the truth. And the glint of satisfaction in her eyes, the first crack in her composure. He smiled. He didn’t blame her. It must have been a sweet moment for her. Let her enjoy it. It was possible the truth drugs he had on hand could crack the memory loss. He’d have to do some checking on that while he waited for their chat with Donovan. For now…

  O’Rourke came in. “You said you wanted to know about, you know.”

  The distraction was a good one. “Well?”

  O’Rourke shook his head. So. Donovan hadn’t managed to kill Leslie yet.

  “Thanks.”

  Grady thought for a moment, then picked up his cell phone. Time to twist the tiger’s tale again. He dialed Donovan’s cell phone number, smiling at his guest in a way that he hoped made her feel very uncomfortable.

  “I’m very disappointed in you, Donovan,” he said. “More time? We’re both running out of time.”

  Amelia, she still felt like Amelia no matter who Grady said she was, resisted the urge to shift. And who was this Donovan he was talking to? One of the men she’d seen down in the communications area downstairs ran up and signaled to Grady. He covered the mouth piece, leaning toward the man who whispered something to him. He looked startled, then pleased. He said something to the man, who looked at her, then nodded.

  Something had happened to shift the balance of power. Grady was no longer patient or relaxed. He wasn’t even…excited anymore. It was something else.

  She was right. The other man grabbed her arm, shoving a Glock into her side.

  “Bring her outside,” Grady said.

  Even with the gun at her side, the fresh air was a welcome change from the heated, deadly atmosphere inside. It also gave her a better view of where she was. As she was dragged into the center of the clearing, she looked around, getting her bearings as best she could.

  The man holding her transferred the gun to her head, standing behind her as both men studied the mountainside.

  “I know you’re there, Donovan. We picked you up on our scanners,” Grady said into his phone. “Show yourself or she’s dead.”

  SIXTEEN

  Luke had spent the day rushing forward, as fast and furious as he could, but at the end of it, his thoughts, like the furies or hell hounds, stayed right on his heels, trying to bring to the front of his mind the one thing he didn’t want to admit, acknowledge or feel.

  It was natural to feel worried about Amelia. It wasn’t natural to feel frantic. Or to feel like his life would be over if he didn’t find her again. He’d felt that once, didn’t want to feel it again, but it had crept up on him, blind siding him while his defenses were down. If he wasn’t already in love with her, he was damn close.

  He thought he only got one shot at this kind of love, the kind that wasn’t about sex or companionship, but was both and more. He’d found it with Rosemary. He’d known she was right for him right away. The more he learned about her only deepened his sense of discovery and his love for her.

  Guess I should have recognized the feeling, he thought ruefully, rubbing his face as he waited in the chilly parking garage for Bryn to start things moving. This was her show and soon she’d have as much at stake in it as he did. As it got closer to the time for Dewey to start his lonely drive south, she got more brittle, more like the Bryn she’d been when she came west. She didn’t like feeling vulnerable, and she didn’t yet know there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

  She’d learn, like he had, that love could come into your life, then fade to memories. He knew time was precious and fleeting. That it had to be savored, not run from. She’d learn. He hoped she wouldn’t learn it the way he had. He stood outside the dim garage lights. The setting sun turned the air bitter cold. Inside the garage the chilly air had a metallic edge to it caused by all the exhaust in the closed space. In the semi-dark, with preparations happening all around him, he faced his own fear that he wouldn’t survive if he took another stroll down lover’s lane, but that was stupid really. What, was he going to lay down and die? No such luck. The real fear was of living alone again with all that pain. The fear wasn’t of not surviving, but knowing he would survive. Dani, Matt’s wife, talked a lot about survivor’s guilt. About how surviving wasn’t the option, but how you dealt with survival was. She knew firsthand that it was hard to be the one left behind, forced to have the stiff upper lip and the smile, to tell people you’re fine when you’re gut was on fire with the agony of being left behind, left alone after having it all.

  He’d gone up the mountain, so sure he’d figured it all out, so sure he was in control, ready to face the world. Master of his fate. Captain of his soul.

  He gave a silent laugh. Yeah, right. An arrogant notion, this idea that man controlled his own destiny. All you could control was your response to what happened to you. Look at that weenie, Leslie Merryweather. Guy was born to money, even had what passed for a brain, and all he can figure out to do with it is kill someone weaker than him. He thought he was in control, too, when it was his impulses that were running the show.

  Which brought him back to his own impulses. He wanted to tear up the countryside until Amelia was safe again and then keep her somewhere safe, but she didn’t belong to him. And tearing things up might get her killed. He wasn’t some spoiled little shit like Leslie. He was a man, a lawman. An adult. Time he started acting like one.

  He straightened and walked over to Matt, who sent him a quick, worried look.

  “You all right?”

  Luke grinned at the question. It was a hard one to get shed of. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m all right.”

  Matt nodded, then looked ahead. “We’ll find her, bro.”

  Luke wasn’t so sure, but he did know Matt would do his damnedest, as would he. That would have to be enough for now. “We ready to rock and roll?”

  Bryn had opted for a small team, counting on stealth, rather than force to achieve their objective. Their team consisted of a four man SWAT squad, Jake and Matt, Bryn and Luke—who had a warrant for Leslie Merryweather’s arrest in his pocket. Mann might be a little miffed at being left out of the fun—or he’d at least pretend to be. Crawling around in the snow wasn’t his idea of a good time. Bryn had been hoping Donovan would join them, but he’d disappeared off the radar after tipping them off about Leslie Merryweather. She’d tried to call him back after Leslie gave them the slip, but he was offline and out of touch.

  The plan, such as it was, was for Dewey to set out, assuming he’d be picked up for surveillance at some point along the way. Over Dewey’s objections, Bryn had opted to use choppers to move in, flying at low level, to avoid detection, then switching to ground transportation so they could set up a loose, low profile, perimeter around the meet and only moving in well after the time for the meet. They’d be further back than she liked, but it was a compromise Dewey had insisted on. No question that their target had created a challenge, but it was one
they were willing to meet.

  Dewey would go in, activating the transponder if he was in trouble, or when he located Amelia or had determined she wasn’t there. Any sign of probable cause and they’d move in, and scoop up all the perps and rescue the girl.

  Luke saw Dewey straighten at Bryn’s approach.

  “You ready, Mr. Hyatt?” she asked.

  Dewey’s lips twitched, but he responded seriously, “Yes, Miss Bailey.”

  After an exchange of looks that took some of the chill out of the air around them, she said, “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” Dewey’s grin was crooked as he climbed into his car. He started the engine, gave her a jaunty salute and pulled out. Bryn waited until he was out of sight before she turned and said, “Let’s move out.”

  Luke noticed that everyone gave her a lot of room as they complied. It was nice to know she had as much at stake in this as he did, he decided. And he was damn glad he wasn’t the one between her and what she wanted.

  * * * *

  “I have you in my sights, Grady,” Donovan said, his finger on the trigger of his rifle, Grady’s head in his cross hairs.

  “And my guy is holding a gun to your girl’s head. If I die, so does she. Now get your ass down here, Donovan. Hey, you said you wanted to talk to her.”

  “So I did.” Donovan lowered the rifle. He couldn’t play chicken with Pru’s life. Damn, he should have figured Grady’d have scanning equipment if he was training terrorists. He wasn’t thinking clearly. It was easy to be cool and calm when it was your own life on the line. He couldn’t do it with Pru’s. “I am going to kill you, Grady.”

  “It’s good to have a goal. Now show yourself.” His voice hardened. “I don’t have to kill her to…hurt her. My men have been dying to…play with her.”

  Donovan’s hands clenched into fists. The bastard was going to pay. “You win. For now.”

  He pushed up through the branches and snow he’d used for cover, noting with satisfaction he’d managed to startle Grady by being much closer than he’d expected. He moved down the hill toward Pru and Grady, holding his rifle by the barrel so Grady’s goon wouldn’t get jumpy. It was a relief when the goon turned his attention to him, taking his rifle, a pistol, a knife and his satellite phone. He handed the phone to Grady who examined it.

  “Nice.” He turned it off and tucked it in his pocket. “That everything?”

  He knew Pru was watching him, but he kept his attention on Grady. “Hardly.”

  Grady laughed. “I like you, Donovan. Let’s have it.”

  Donovan removed two more pistols, a sawed off shotgun and another knife, tossing them at Grady’s feet. His gaze locked on Grady’s he added, “Sorry, can’t remove the arms and legs.”

  “Point taken,” Grady said, taking one step back from him. “But I don’t think you’ll use them while Miss Knight is at risk?”

  For the first time, Donovan let himself look at Pru. He almost didn’t recognize her without her glasses and the new hair cut. But her eyes were the same. Cool, deflective, remote. Bruises marred the pale purity of her skin, bringing his insides to a boil with rage. But damn, she made him proud. She stood there, her back as straight as a soldier’s, her chin up in cool defiance. No way was she Knight’s daughter. A warrior’s blood ran in her veins. His blood.

  “No. I won’t kick your ass now,” Donovan said. To Pru he said, “You all right?”

  Her chin lifted a bit. “Of course. Though the accommodations are—” She finished with a shrug and a snooty grimace.

  Donovan bit back a grin. “Good girl.”

  Grady laughed. “Your girl’s a pistol, Donovan. Been tempted to keep her for myself.”

  Donovan’s insides clenched, but he didn’t let his face show anything but disdain. “Never happen.”

  Grady didn’t flinch, but his gaze narrowed, even as he widened his smile. “I like your can do attitude, Donovan. We’re going to get along just fine—if you do what I say.”

  “Surely you can find people to kill for you,” Donovan said.

  “Killers are easy. Good assassins,” he shrugged, “are expensive. I like having money, not wasting it. Not when I can get two things I want for the price of one.” He looked at Pru, his gaze far too interested for Donovan’s comfort. “Did your boyfriend tell you he’s a trained sniper? Oh, that’s right, you can’t remember, can you?” He turned to Donovan. “Guess that means you don’t get a hello kiss.”

  Donovan gave him a look and realized that Pru had, too. He had a sinking feeling it was the mirror of his, a feeling confirmed when he saw Grady’s eyes widen.

  “Well, well, this gets more and more interesting.” His gaze traveled between them with unnerving intensity, but to Donovan’s relief he merely said, “We should take this inside. I think the lady’s cold.”

  Grady held out his arm to Pru. She ignored it, turning on her heel and sweeping into the cabin as if it were a castle she was taking. Bryn had said she didn’t remember anything. If she was right, Pru hid it well. The goon indicated with the barrel of the rifle that Donovan should precede him inside. With inner amusement, Donovan noticed he kept what he thought was a safe distance. Since it was what he wanted to do, Donovan complied, taking his time to let the goon know who was really in control.

  Inside Grady spoke to someone he called O’Rourke. “Set another place for dinner.” He stopped and looked at Donovan. “You will join us, won’t you?”

  “I’m feeling a bit uckish,” Donovan said.

  “I’m not going to have to cuff you, am I? It’s such a messy way to eat.”

  “Not necessary.” Donovan didn’t mention that he hadn’t met a pair of cuffs he couldn’t pick. Instead he looked at Pru, offering her his arm. She looked startled, then she smiled. The effect on her face was startling, to say the least. “I like the new hairdo. It suits you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Donovan saw her look at Grady, and the shutters went down in her face again. Smart girl. As they walked to the rough-hewn table, he studied her out of the corner of his eyes. That she looked aloof was not unusual, but whatever had happened to her over the last few days had changed her, a change that went beyond the new haircut. She looked…lighter, and freer, despite her current captivity. With a jolt, he realized she didn’t know that Knight had died. That to her, she was without a father. Had she loved him, he wondered? He’d never seen any sign of affection between them, but he wasn’t in their inner circle.

  He pulled out her chair in front of a place setting that looked like military surplus. When she was seated, he took the one next to her.

  “You look…well,” he said.

  Amelia looked at him and gave him a small smile, but her thoughts were chaotic. Was he really her boyfriend? Were they an item? Had they had some kind of relationship? It felt wrong. She felt liking for him, but not attraction. Even if Luke didn’t want her, she belonged to him. This meeting from her missing past just made her conviction stronger. She felt guilty and anxious. This Donovan seemed nice and was worried about her, so much so, that he’d been lurking in the snow trying to rescue her. It was an obligation she didn’t want and hadn’t asked for. The weight of it ignited the trapped feeling that lurked just below her memory.

  Grady took the seat at the head of the table, O’Rourke the one opposite her where he smiled at her like a hopeful suitor. It was an odd scene. The firelight from the fireplace flickered off the beamed ceiling as the sun faded from the sky, turning the frost a brief, brilliant gold before it faded to gray. It had all the trappings of a dinner with friends. Except for the lack of friends and the armed men close at hand, one standing behind her with his Uzi trained on her back. Donovan may have been given his parole, but it was obvious that Grady still didn’t trust him. She didn’t blame him. Donovan had walked down the mountain with such an air of leashed menace that Grady had taken an involuntary step backward. Did he know he was in deep, she wondered?

  She peeked at Donovan out of the corner of her eyes. He looked
old enough to be her father, which made her think of Luke’s concerns about her age. Apparently the same concerns hadn’t troubled Donovan. Did that mean she had a taste for older men?

  Donovan was handsome. He was better looking in some ways than Luke. His face was more classically handsome, though Amelia preferred Luke’s craggy lines and angles to the classical. Just thinking about him curled her toes in her shoes. And Donovan knew how to make an entrance. He’d managed to startle Grady when he’d risen out of the snow like a ghost. His military camouflage, the paint on his face and his erect, soldier’s bearing added to her overall impression that here was a striking man—in the literal and figurative sense of the word striking. She could see him appealing to some women, had felt a thrill herself at first sight of him. He had a rakish charm, right out of a romance novel. Even had a scar above one eye. If she were Grady, she’d be sweating, not eating. Despite all this, the thought of kissing him or intimacy with him left her feeling a bit nauseous.

  Her mouth wanted to kiss only Luke. And the thought of intimacy with him made her shiver. She lowered her lashes, pretending to study the plate of food one of Grady’s men placed in front of her. Just thinking about him turned her soft and languid, lifting her out of the here and now to the then with him. Thinking about how he’d tasted heated up her middle better than the fire flickering in the fireplace. She could feel the warm tracking up her neck into her face. With a hand that only stayed steady with severe effort, she lifted her water glass and drank, sending down the cold mountain water to put out the fire.

  This was not the time or place for fire. It was the time for icy thought. Cold planning. Firm resolve. She had to believe she could survive this. Half of any battle began in the mind.

  She looked at Donovan. Was he the one who’d said this to her? Was he the part of her past that this had come from? His attitude toward her was so formal and protective—his gaze worried, not heated. His discipline impressed her, but his motives troubled her. The thought that he might want what she couldn’t give tightened her chest.