by Bonnie Vanak
“All right, but I don’t feel comfortable about this. Don’t take any chances.” Finn frowned. “I’ve already lost one good man on this force to injury. I don’t want to have to drag you home in a body bag.”
“I’m not taking any chances with Quinn. Rex and I will check it out first before she gets near the property. And you have nothing to worry about. I’m the best. If there are explosives anywhere near Pine Paradise, Rex will find them.”
* * *
Three days in a forest in a secluded cabin sounded like heaven to Quinn. After the latest attack, she didn’t feel safe in her own apartment.
She’d kept checking the windows, the locks, and staring out to see who came close to her shop. Nerves shattered, she felt like a poster child for paranoia.
West was mainly silent on the long drive south. Quinn stared out the window, wondering when her memories would return. She’d lived in Red Ridge a long time, but nothing looked familiar.
She shot a quick glance over at the grim-faced West. “Where is your friend’s cabin?”
“West of Rapid City. But I have another intention, Quinn. We’re also visiting a place where you once stayed. In fact, Tia gave you a key to stay there when the cabin was vacant.” West inclined his head to the cup holder, where a key rested. “I got a key from the lawyer in charge of the property. I’m hoping visiting it will trigger your memory.”
Quinn tilted her head at him. “Is this a place where we once stayed together?”
He drew in a deep breath. “You mentioned it before the explosion. It was the most serene, peaceful feeling you had in a long time. It’s a place where you can forget yourself, and all your troubles.”
“Sounds like some place over the rainbow.” She began humming a few bars, stopped. Quinn pressed her fingers to her right temple. “How can I remember a song from a movie I watched as a child, and I can’t even recall my own brothers?”
“It’ll come back to you. You had quite a nasty blow to the head, sweetheart.” He slid his hand over to touch hers, but she pulled away.
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I just...can’t.”
West gave an abrupt nod. Quinn rubbed her hands together, wishing she didn’t have to hurt him this way. She could only imagine what he must think—having a girlfriend/fiancée who held no memory of being with him.
Now was a good time to ask, without her brothers hovering. “How long ago did we get engaged?”
“One day, before you...”
He fell silent, as if talking about the explosion proved too painful.
A secret engagement that was practically nonexistent. She didn’t know West Brand, didn’t remember anything about him. But those flashes of memory—teasing and seductive—of having amazing sex...
Surely that was West. Because Quinn felt certain she was a one-relationship kind of woman.
Maybe if she got this taciturn man to talk about his past, his childhood, it would trigger a memory of their own relationship. Because surely West Brand had a better childhood than the one she recalled—a flurry of stepfathers blowing in and out of her life, her mother desperately searching for the one man who would make her happy, fulfill all her dreams.
Quinn was pretty sure that a man wasn’t the answer to fulfilling dreams. She remembered even telling her mother that at one point. Not that her mother had listened. A flash of memory surfaced—a pretty, but faded brunette woman looking at her with hurt eyes, and then shrugging as she applied lipstick, picked up a short jacket and told her to get into bed by nine o’clock.
A lump formed in her throat. There seemed to be more of those memories, along with the smell of cheap beer and wine and cigarettes, than there were of her mother tucking her in at night, reading to her, hanging her childish artwork on the refrigerator.
“What was your childhood like? Do you have sisters and brothers? Are your parents still together?”
West stiffened. Every muscle in his body seemed to turn to stone. His grip on the steering wheel became white-knuckle.
“Why are you asking?”
His voice was low and gravelly, carrying a hint of anger.
Quinn tensed, as well. “I thought...it was something we’d talked about before.”
He turned the truck left onto a dirt road, stopped and shifted the gears so the truck was in four-wheel drive. One hand on the wheel, West turned toward her.
“We didn’t. And I never talk about my family. They’re dead. An accident.”
Quinn felt a surge of horror and pity. This time she was the one putting her hand over his. “I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t know... I don’t remember.”
He gave a curt nod. “No problem.”
As they climbed upward, she struggled to come up with conversation that wouldn’t involve families, friends or delicate subjects. It was so hard. Quinn felt as if she treaded on emotional land mines—his and hers.
She gazed out the window. Weather and scenery seemed safe enough. “It’s very pretty here,” she noted, looking at the sweep of tall pines, white birch and cottonwood trees.
Odd how she could remember the types of trees, but couldn’t remember her own fiancé.
West nodded. “I used to come out here sometimes, relax and do some fly-fishing.”
Another memory struck her—sitting in flannel polka-dot pajamas before a stone fireplace, the flames flickering, as she dealt a deck of cards out on the floor. There was a redhead there, whose smile seemed strained.
“I have been in this area before,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “Maybe a year ago.”
When she opened her eyes, West parked the truck in a gravel recess between two pine trees. He shut off the engine. “Here we are.”
Rex gave an approving bark from the back seat.
The pine-log cabin looked less rustic than she’d anticipated. Colorful pots of geraniums decorated a front porch, and pink and purple petunias filled a small planter set near the entrance. Inside, she examined the living room with its satellite television, comfortable sofa and chairs set before a rock fireplace, and the kitchen with a gas stove, refrigerator and microwave. There was a dining table for four, and the bathroom and bedroom looked remodeled.
As West dragged their suitcases into the cabin, she folded her arms. “This is how guys rough it?”
He grinned. “My friend’s idea of roughing it includes heat and hockey games.”
After they unpacked, they sat on the sofa, looking at the view from the floor-to-ceiling window. Rock canyon walls and pine trees surrounded them.
Rex nosed around the living room and jumped onto the sofa between them, wagging his tail.
“Off,” Quinn ordered.
West shrugged. “My friend won’t mind.”
“I wasn’t talking about the dog. I meant you, West.”
For a moment, she feared he’d take her seriously. And then he laughed, a deep sound that rumbled out of his chest. It sounded sexy and earthy and all natural.
“Did I used to make you do that before? Laugh?” she asked.
West studied her. “All the time. It’s one of your charms.”
His voice deepened. “It’s why I fell in love with you, Quinn Colton. You make me laugh when there’s too much damn sadness and suffering in my world.”
For a long moment, he said nothing, only studied her with such intensity, her breath hitched. Quinn stared at the sensual curve of his lower lip, wondering what it felt like to kiss him. Do more than kiss him...
West Brand had strong, masculine features, a face that could crinkle with laughter one moment, and go dead serious the next. Penetrating dark eyes that seemed to sear through to her soul. He looked like the kind of man who would pull no stops to protect those under his care, a man who could be thoughtful and gentle with the woman he loved, but ruthless with those he deemed a threat to both family and country.
Pe
rhaps it sounded old-fashioned, but she liked the idea of a man caring for her, a man who respected her and treated her with courtesy as an equal out of bed, but wasn’t afraid to be dominant in it.
Quinn licked her mouth, feeling a flush heat her body.
Arousal rushed through her. Maybe she had no sense of the past, but the present looked like a mighty fine place to start something.
He drew in a shuddering breath. “Rex needs exercise after that long walk. Let’s go into town for groceries, and then come back and hike before it gets dark.”
* * *
This could be much tougher than he’d ever anticipated. Alone with Quinn in a cabin, no brothers to drop by, no business partner to dash upstairs and ask about catering orders.
No interruptions.
Nothing but privacy.
Every bone in his body ached to kiss her senseless, hold her tight and make love to her.
They drove back to town and bought groceries and provisions. After the truck was loaded, Quinn saw an arts and crafts shop. While she went inside, he ducked into a drugstore and bought a box of condoms. No way would he push her into sex, but if she was ready, he’d be ready, too.
Maybe a long, slow bout of lovemaking would trigger memories of him.
Back at the cabin, they put away the groceries. West fetched the gift he’d purchased for her before leaving Red Ridge.
Quinn studied it. “What is it?”
“You don’t like guns. You never did want to learn to fire one, so I bought you a Taser.”
They went outside.
“Next time someone attacks you, use this and it will give you time to get away.” He showed her how to trigger the switch and then gave her the belt and holster he’d also purchased. “Especially when you’re alone in the store, Quinn. You’re too vulnerable there.”
West watched her practice removing it from the holster for the next few minutes. Quinn handled the Taser well. She turned it over in her hands.
“You’re really protective, Agent Brand.”
West flashed a brief smile. He touched her cheek, longing to kiss her again. “Always.”
They went for a walk on the path snaking through the woods. A few minutes later, they set out on a narrow trail cutting through the woods, up the mountain. Rex bounded ahead of them, sniffing out the rabbits and squirrels hiding in the undergrowth.
In worn jeans and a soft sweater, Quinn walked alongside him as they hiked the path. Birds chirped in the overhead trees, and he heard a faint rustle in the underbrush. West clasped her arm to halt her. A black snake slithered away.
“Oh, that’s nothing.” Quinn shrugged. “Bull snake. They get big, but they won’t hurt you. Not like rattlers. My father taught me that.”
“Rusty actually knows the difference between a bull snake and a rattler? I thought he had a hard time differentiating between light beer and regular.”
Quinn laughed, her first real laugh in days. It felt good to hear it from her.
He lifted a branch out of her way. “It’s good to hear you laugh again, sweetheart. I’ve missed that sound.”
“I’ll make a note to do it more often.” She took his hand as he helped her climb over a fallen tree limb. Her palm was soft, smooth, and a shudder raced through him as he recalled the feel of her hands stroking his naked body...
Easy now.
He kept a close eye on Quinn as she climbed over rocks and used the stick to playfully poke at the brush.
“Careful, you’ll upset the rattlesnakes.”
She turned, her eyes wide. “You’ve seen them?”
West chuckled and she mock scowled, swatting him with the stick. “You’re teasing me.”
“They’ll let you know when you get close.”
“They rattle.”
Quinn laughed. Man, he adored that sound of her low, sexy laugh, loved making her smile. His own smile dropped. He had a job to do—get her to remember anything and everything, especially about Demi.
“Do you remember that song?” he asked. “Our first dance?”
Confusion wrinkled her brow. “No. I’m sorry I don’t. But I’d like to remember. Tell me.”
His chest ached as he told her how he spotted her at the bar and asked her for a dance.
She’d told him she didn’t dance and he’d replied that all she had to do was follow his lead.
The country-and-western band had struck up that song and they danced nice and slow. Quinn only stepped on his toes twice, and he’d been wearing boots. They fitted together just fine and he’d wanted to stay in her arms for much longer than the song. As it ended, Quinn had lifted her head to him and told him, Hey, cowboy, don’t think that just because we shared a dance that this means we’re in love.
He’d looked down at her and said, I’ll settle for a steak dinner, rare, without sprouts.
She’d laughed. You’d stand a better chance of me learning to salsa than cooking you something that moos, Agent Brand.
From that moment on, she grabbed his heart and held on. Because Quinn Colton wasn’t into playing games as some women did. She was open and honest, unwilling to change just to please a man. She was true to herself. After dating a series of women who were not, West found her deeply refreshing.
He told her this as they navigated the pathway winding up to a splendid view of the canyon cliffs. Quinn stopped and looked at him.
The little frown dented her brow. “You’re good with animals. You treat them well and love them. I remember that now. I remember thinking that a man whom animals trusted was a man I could trust, as well.”
Pleased she’d recalled even a sliver of a memory, West touched her arm. He craved the connection between them, needing it as much as he needed to find Demi Colton.
“You can trust me, sweetheart,” he said in a low voice made husky by desire and sheer need. “I aim to keep you safe, and care for you the rest of your life.”
But Quinn only looked away. She flicked a hand upward. “If there’s a place up there with a bench, let’s stop. I need to rest.”
He didn’t want her pushing herself. West struggled between the need to care for her and the urgent need to get her to remember every damn thing about what she’d seen before the world exploded and nearly took her with it.
Because if a killer stalked her, he had to know who it was. He couldn’t keep an eye on her every waking moment.
At the plateau, there was a simple bench made from a log. Rex joined them as Quinn sat, her breath heaving in and out. West uncapped his water bottle and handed it to her.
He watched her drink, the little beads of sweat rolling down her temple.
Removing the collapsible cup from his jacket, he set it down and filled it for Rex, who gulped down the water.
“Feels like I haven’t exercised like that in a long time. But it feels good to get outside, breathe in the fresh air again.” Quinn peered at the cliffs. “So pretty up here. We’re far away from Red Ridge.”
“Town’s that way. Up north.” He felt an ache of regret. She didn’t remember her little saying, either.
You’re my West, she’d told him much later. And my north, south and east.
She was his entire world.
You have a job to do. Concentrate on finding out where Demi Colton is and what Quinn knows.
But he also needed his Quinn back, the woman who gave him slow, deep kisses with fire in her heart, the woman who made him feel like he was more than the job, and could do anything he wanted. West was beginning to tire of the Bureau. He enjoyed his job, and Mike was a damn good boss, but the politics had gotten to him. Being a canine officer limited his career choices in the Bureau.
West was good with dogs, and liked them more than people at times. Being a canine cop had saved his sanity during the times when he couldn’t take the chatter and games people played. You could trust dog
s. They were loyal and honest, letting you know what they wanted.
They harbored no secrets. Not like people. Quinn liked dogs for the same reasons.
Did she know where Demi hid?
West drank from the same bottle and then tucked it into his backpack. For a moment they sat in companionable silence, listening to the birds sing in the trees, the wind rustling through the pine boughs and the distant gurgle of water gushing far below in the canyon.
“North, south, east, west.” She turned to him, a glimmer of something in her pretty eyes. Recognition at last? “You’re my West.”
Relief filled him. Finally. “You remember that.”
Quinn’s excitement died. “I remember that, but nothing else. Why can’t I recall any time with you?”
Unable to help it, he slid close and put his arm around her. “I don’t know.”
But, hell, it was a start and he’d take it.
When she scrambled to her feet, ready to hike again, he was at her side. Quinn didn’t object when he put a hand on her elbow to steady her as they climbed up the dirt trail. Switchbacks made the ascent easier, but he could tell she was tiring fast. So he turned around, and when she protested she could make it, insisted they could try again tomorrow.
He talked about the canyon, and how the Badlands got its name from the pioneers and Native Americans who forged lives in this land. “Weather here gets unpredictable, too. Temperatures drop into the forties in summer.”
“Sounds divine after cooking all day. Sometimes I would get so hot I’d dream of the winter, and then when winter came, I’d be glad for the heat of the ovens.” Quinn stopped on the trail, her stick held aloft. “I do love to cook. I think I started my own business because my mother left me on my own a lot, and I had to fend for myself. She was always searching for a new guy to marry. My mother... She didn’t like being single.”
Something new he didn’t know about his Quinn, now that memories of her childhood surged. West ached for the little girl whose mother was too busy to care for her, more concerned with her own personal life than her daughter.
