Bridal Reconnaissance

by Lisa Childs

  Evan laughed out his derision. “Nothing, if they were loving parents. But they’re not. In fact, they seem to fear you. Odd that they left the country just prior to your release…”

  Because of that—and the fearful tone of Mrs. Weering’s voice—Evan was tempted to whisk Amanda and Christopher from the country, too. If this man was so evil his own parents feared him…

  Evan had failed Amanda before. He hadn’t protected her from this madman once. Although he’d give his life if necessary, would it be enough to keep her safe?

  “So? My parents don’t love me. They just stick by me out of duty.” He grated the words into the phone.

  Evan narrowed his eyes in anticipation of a wrong move from the prisoner. He’d found the switch to turn off the man’s nonchalance. “Or blackmail.” Evan figured Weering had something on his parents, something that allowed him to control them even though they feared him.

  “Some parents don’t love their children, whether they had them or adopted them,” Weering continued. “Children are a status symbol and sometimes worse. You know that.”

  Evan’s muscles tensed as he sat poised for the man’s counterattack. “Do I?”

  “And earlier when you said we’re similar, there was something you forgot to mention.” The smirk slid back into place now, but the slight flush on the pale skin suggested his loss of control.

  “What?”

  “We’ve got the same kind of genes. So maybe you shouldn’t worry about protecting your wife and kid from me, but from yourself!”

  Evan’s control almost slipped from the chain he’d padlocked around it. In his mind he could see himself vaulting out of the chair and through the glass barrier. He’d broken bricks with his bare hands. What challenge would shatterproof glass pose?

  None. The challenge was in keeping his temper tethered. Especially now, since he was aware of those genes.

  How in the hell did the man know about his father—something so few others knew? Evan managed a careless shrug. “I thought you didn’t know who I was?”

  Weering shook his head, disappointment stealing his smirk away. “Who said I did?”

  “And all this time you’ve known who Amanda is, but you’ve never told anyone. Kept her identification as a trophy, did you?”

  The prisoner shrugged his shoulders. “I think we’ve said all there is to say. You’ve made your threats. We’re through.” He started to lift the receiver from his ear.

  “No!”

  The seeing eye widened, as the man evidently anticipated an outburst and relished it.

  Evan forced a grin. “I need to clarify what I said earlier. And since you really know more about me than you admitted at first, you’ll know it’s true. I won’t just protect what’s mine. I’ll take care of whoever’s threatening them. I’ll eliminate that threat.”

  The convict snorted. “By using the law. So you’re rich. You have connections with politicians and cops.”

  “Yes, I do. But I wouldn’t rely on my friends. I’d take care of the problem with my own hands.” On that last note, he replaced the receiver, severing the connection.

  Weering’s mouth moved as if he were laughing, but the soundproof glass spared Evan from listening to the sick notes of a madman’s laughter.

  AMANDA HEFTED ANOTHER box through the cargo doors of her van, settling the weighted-down cardboard onto the rusted floor. A glance over her shoulder confirmed that the silver SUV was still parked across the street. The man behind the wheel didn’t even pretend that he wasn’t watching her. She didn’t know him, but she knew who had sent him.

  Her husband.

  Could it be true?

  When she straightened away from the van, the chilly spring wind whipped around the open doors and stole her breath. Just as he’d stolen her breath last night. When she’d fainted into his arms.

  Heat rushed up, chasing the windburn away to leave another kind of burn. Embarrassment. Had she really fallen into his arms like some silent movie starlet?

  The headache. Ever since the attack, she’d fallen victim to debilitating migraines. She’d had one before seeing that ring. Her fainting spell had had nothing to do with the glittering diamond.

  When she’d awakened on the couch, she had almost convinced herself that she’d dreamed the whole thing, until he had returned to press a cold cloth against her forehead. He’d knelt beside her, and for once she’d recognized the emotion in his dark eyes. Concern. For her.

  That had staggered her as much as the ring, which had disappeared inside his silk shirt to nestle against his muscular chest. But he hadn’t retightened the tie, so the thin chain gleamed in the lamplight as a reminder of what she’d seen—what had graced her hand. A perfect fit.

  Somehow she figured Cinderella would have preferred that magnificent diamond over the shoe. But she wasn’t Cinderella, and almost six years ago, she’d learned fairy tales bore no resemblance to reality except for the element of evil. Evil was the only reality Amanda knew. And she doubted it would ever be conquered.

  All she could do was run.

  “Amanda, let me help you.” The words he’d whispered as he’d knelt beside her last night washed over her again. “Let me help you.”

  Panic had crashed over her next, like the foam following a lapping wave. Frenzied. “Please, leave. Leave before Christopher wakes up. I can’t deal with this now…with you. Please, just go.”

  She had been stunned again when he’d complied, pausing only at the door to glance back at her with an unreadable expression in those dark eyes. About ten minutes later a locksmith had arrived to replace her broken chain with a new dead bolt.

  Evan Quade had left twice when she’d pleaded. She didn’t count on her luck holding out a third time. When she stepped outside with another box, she automatically glanced to her shadow across the road. And she saw another shadow, a tall dark one.

  Evan.

  Behind the SUV, a racy red sports car idled, puffs of exhaust hanging in the cold air. Suspended. Like her. The weight of the box dragged at her arms and a tingling pain shot from her wrists to an unreachable pressure point between her shoulder blades.

  A curse drifted across to her before the scrape of his shoes on the asphalt as he rushed across the street and wrestled the box from her arms. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  She swallowed a hysterical giggle. “Why didn’t you have your friend help me then?”

  “Royce?” He chuckled, the deep rumble warming her. “He’s no gentleman.”

  “I gathered that.” She arched, but the stubborn ache remained.

  “He was busy on the phone. And once you had everything packed up, what would stop you from leaving?”

  “What will stop me now?”

  “I will.”

  She shivered despite the warmth of her Thinsulate jacket. She’d like to retort, him and what army, but she suspected he wouldn’t need an army. And if he did, he could summon one with no problem.

  “Why? What do you want from me?”

  Using only one arm, he held the weighty box with which she’d struggled while he brushed his black hair back with his other hand. “Right now all I want is to help you.”

  At the risk of sounding like her son, she wanted to ask why again. But although she didn’t remember Evan Quade, she’d already learned something about him. He was a man of responsibility. He might not be in love with her anymore, but having her wear his ring once upon a time made him feel responsible for her.

  She swallowed hard, realizing she’d almost accepted what he’d told her as fact. If he were her husband, that would make him Christopher’s father. And what about Christopher? What did this man feel for his son?

  A gasp slipped through her lips. She had never considered Christopher as anyone’s but hers. Could she share him? Was that what Evan Quade wanted? Or would he want it all? His strong personality definitely demanded all or nothing.

  “I can handle this.” Maybe if she said the words enough times, she would begin to believe
them. Right now she had serious doubts.

  “How? By running?” he asked archly.

  “Yes.” She lifted her chin, feeling no shame in her cowardice. She’d lost the woman who’d bravely fought off her assailant. She’d lost that woman just as she’d lost this man. And she harbored no hope of recovering either.

  He chuckled. “I don’t believe in running. I never did. The best way to deal with things is to face them head-on. That’s why I visited the prison this morning.”

  Fear whipped through her at the memory of her one visit there. Voice trembling, she asked, “You saw him?”

  He nodded, his hard mouth pressed into a grim line.

  “And?”

  “You’re in danger.”

  Although she had known it already, hearing him say it stole away that glimmer of hope she had held on to despite the odds. “Don’t you see? That’s why I have to leave. And you can’t stop me!”

  She jerked the box from his arm and stomped over to the van to slide it next to the others.

  “I could if I wanted to. We both know that. I have certain legal rights I’ve been denied, Amanda.”

  She shivered more over the coldness of his words than the chilled wind. She straightened up and blinked back tears before she turned to face him again.

  His handsome face bore no expression, the dark eyes shadowed with secrets only he knew. “I have people working on finding his cell mate and confirming the threats. Give me some time, Amanda.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  He shook his head and she could read the frustration now.

  “Damn, you’re still so stubborn…”

  Stubbornness was a sign of strength, so maybe she still had some left. But desperation brought forth the lie. “Christopher has an all-day field trip today. When he gets home, I’m leaving.”

  “You’re only giving me until late afternoon?”

  Before she could reply, a shout from the SUV drew Evan’s attention.

  “Evan! I got a lead! Come on!”

  He turned back. “I’m going to check this out. If you need me…”

  He dug into the pocket of his overcoat and withdrew a gold-embossed business card. “My cell phone number’s on there. And I’m staying at the River City Plaza.”

  She widened her eyes over the expense of that, but then she shifted her gaze to the idling sports car. He had money, influence…all the vices her attacker had possessed, in her opinion.

  With a trembling hand she took the card and shoved it into her pocket. Maybe he could help her, but she wasn’t going to risk sticking around to find out. “Go ahead. Follow your lead.”

  He nodded and jaunted across the road to the sports car.

  She waited until both vehicles had pulled away from the curb and disappeared around the corner before she slammed the cargo doors. Then she slid behind the wheel.

  She’d packed all she had time and room to take with her. Now she had to pick up Christopher from school. She’d allowed him one last day, knowing he was safe while the convict still resided behind bars where he belonged.

  Once she had Christopher they would head out of River City, the only home she remembered. And according to the man who claimed to be her husband, the only home she’d ever had.

  Fingers numbed from the cold slid the key into the ignition and turned. A spinning noise and metallic clank drifted from under the hood, but no rumble of the motor springing to life.

  Nothing.

  Not again.

  She shifted against the seat and a corner of the business card stabbed into her leg. No flimsy paper for him. Unbendable, just like the man.

  Of course. He’d had his friend sabotage the van. Anger bubbled up and threatened to explode in a scream. She contained it but slammed the door after jumping down from the driver’s seat.

  Unlatching the hood was a familiar action, which she did by rote. But looking at the motor revealed no secrets. This time the cables were attached to the battery. What else could he have done to prevent it from starting?

  Out of habit she reached for the diamond necklace, but it was gone. Pawned that morning. Now she had money—money she’d intended to use to start a new life for Christopher and herself—and she’d have to use it to repair or replace her vehicle. Doing either would take time, time she didn’t have.

  She blinked back tears of frustration and turned to Mrs. Olson’s house across the street where a curtain swished at a window.

  Stubborn, Evan had called her. He had no idea. And until now, neither had she. She wasn’t going to lose another day of running. He could chase down leads. She would chase freedom from the animal that was getting out of prison and freedom from her “husband.”

  THE STOP WAS UNSCHEDULED. Not that she’d really scheduled anything.

  She certainly hadn’t anticipated the extra time and expense of begging Mrs. Olson to coerce her mechanic son to get the van in right away to his repair shop. But for an extra fifty, he’d quickly replaced the worn-out starter, something he’d warned her some time ago had to be done—something she wished she had gotten fixed before.

  And something Evan Quade could not have tampered with.

  So she had judged him a bit too harshly. She didn’t intend to apologize.

  What she had intended was to get the heck out of town once her van was running again.

  So why had she gone to the D.A.’s office? Could it be she had some faith in Evan Quade, that she believed he could prevent the release of the prisoner who had stolen her life?

  Only the D.A. would know for sure.

  Peter Sullivan closed the office door behind his back after stepping into the hall with her. Amanda peered around his shoulder through the glass door and saw her son bent over, furiously scribbling on a legal pad at the D.A.’s desk. When she’d picked him up from school, he had refused to talk to her. He didn’t want to leave his home. Neither did she.

  “Who is he?” Amanda asked, turning her attention to the D.A.

  “Evan Quade?” Sullivan jerked at the knot of his paisley tie. “Who he says he is.”

  Her breath caught and burned in her throat. “My husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “So I am Amanda Quade?”

  “Legally Caroline Quade, but you never used your legal name. That’s why we couldn’t match you to the missing person report he’d filed on you. The police in Chicago hadn’t filled out the report completely. They hadn’t included your nickname. And because of the attack and your memory loss, we didn’t release any information about you. For your safety. You’re so vulnerable.”

  Because she’d lost her mind.

  “We really didn’t go looking for people to claim you. We felt it would have been better if your memory had returned on its own. Safer.”

  Safety. An oxymoron. She’d never be safe once authorities set a killer free.

  “Maybe we should have divulged more information. Maybe we should have looked for a husband.”

  But she’d never suspected she’d been married. She’d even told him so—on several occasions. Even now she couldn’t accept that she’d been that wrong. Couldn’t accept that she belonged with Evan Quade.

  Absently she lifted her hand to her neck but pulled it back when she remembered the necklace was gone. Just like the life she’d lived as Mrs. Quade. But that was the past and now she had to concentrate on the future. “He wants to help me. He’s trying to find the guy who broke into my van.”

  Sullivan nodded. “He has more resources than the city does. He’s hired all the experts and I’m sure he will find him. Now getting the man to testify…”

  “So he hasn’t found him yet?”

  The D.A. shook his head.

  She swallowed her disappointment that his lead hadn’t panned out. “There isn’t enough time. I have to leave.”

  “You’re going with him?”

  She shivered. “No. I can’t trust him. I still don’t remember him.”

  Sullivan’s eyes widened. “What does it matter when he�
��s offering you protection, Amanda? He can protect you.”

  “From Weering. But who will protect me from him?”

  “He’s an honorable man. I checked him out. His brother-in-law is the Winter Falls sheriff.”

  “Brother-in-law?” Why did that seem wrong to her? Could the past be as locked away in her mind as she believed?

  “You think he’s lying? I called and spoke directly with the sheriff, who swears Quade’s who he says he is. Quade is something of a hero in that town, brought it financial prosperity. Not only would your husband protect you, but the local law enforcement would, too. You would be safe there.”

  Physically. But once again, where her husband was concerned, her fear was of the emotional harm he could do her.

  She glanced up to see the D.A. had turned toward his office again. A smile softened his lined face. “And Christopher would be safe there.”

  Hearing his words left her no choice. Reluctantly she shoved her fingers into her pocket and fingered the card—her means of contacting a husband she couldn’t remember.

  But she dialed other numbers while Mr. Sullivan and Christopher ate cookies in the hall. She double-checked the D.A.’s assessment, calling the sheriff he’d talked to as well as Evan’s office number. His secretary verified his identity.

  Maybe she could trust him to protect her and her son from physical harm at a madman’s hands. But the only person who could protect her from emotional harm from her husband was herself, and she doubted she was strong enough. She doubted she had ever been strong enough to handle him, his powerful personality or the powerful feelings he inspired.

  He’d said she ran away from him once. She must have had a reason to run. When the threat to her and her son’s life was gone, would she be able to leave him again?

  Now that he knew about Christopher, would he let her walk out of his life as she once had? Or would he fight her for his son?

  Tension throbbed at the base of her skull as she accepted that only one person could answer her questions: her husband.