by Rita Herron
She clawed at his firm backside, driving him deeper, then wrapped her legs around his waist. He suckled at her neck, and another orgasm teetered on the surface.
Fast. Hard. Deep. Over and over again until she spun into a world of pleasure. His big body went tense, still for a moment, then a guttural groan sounded as if it was ripped from his gut.
A minute later, his body shook as his own pleasure overcame him.
Jane clenched his hips as he pushed deeper into her and colors exploded behind her eyes.
Fletch’s ragged breathing mingled with hers in the aftermath of their lovemaking, their bodies slick with perspiration and heat.
She stroked his back, savoring his strong body on top of her.
“Ahh, Jane,” he said on a rough whisper. “I don’t know who you are or what you do to me, but I can’t stop myself from wanting you.”
A smile formed on her lips, and she kissed him hungrily. She didn’t know what had come over either of them, but she wanted their lovemaking to go on forever.
Although reality threatened to intercede and brought guilt. Had she felt this strongly about the man who’d put that wedding ring on her finger?
Should she be planning his funeral and honoring him instead of crawling into bed with another man?
* * *
FLETCH SENSED JANE’S tension but cradled her in his arms and soothed her by whispering nonsensical words. His body still zinged with passion in the aftermath of their lovemaking.
He didn’t want to release her. Not yet. Maybe never.
“Are you going to tell your brothers I’m here?” Jane whispered.
Fletch angled his head to study her. “Do you want me to?”
Jane traced her finger over his bare chest. “I suppose it’s not fair to ask you to hide me.”
Fletch chuckled. “None of this is fair.” He touched her bruised wrists. “It wasn’t fair that someone tied you up and tried to kill you.”
Jane nodded against him. “Tonight, can we just stay here alone?”
Fletch wanted time as much as she did. “Yeah. Jacob and Liam are working on your case. Liam put a rush on your prints and DNA at the lab so hopefully tomorrow you’ll know some answers.”
Relief and anxiety reverberated in Jane’s slow exhale. “Then we figure out everything else,” she said softly.
“That’s right.” He only hoped the truth didn’t send her back to jail.
She nestled against him, and he wrapped his arms around her, and she fell asleep in his arms, safe for the night.
The idea of seeing Jane locked away for the rest of her life made his stomach coil. He’d definitely crossed the line and let his emotions get the better of him with Jane.
But he had to believe that things would work out.
Nothing that felt this good could be wrong, could it?
Finally exhaustion sucked him into a restless slumber. He startled awake a few hours later with early morning sunlight streaming through the window. Jane looked so peaceful and sexy in his bed that he dropped a kiss on her forehead and memorized her features, afraid today might take her away from him.
Another possible theory occurred to him as he slipped from bed and brewed a pot of coffee. What if there wasn’t any information on Victor and Bianca Renard because they were in WITSEC? That might explain the reason Jane had an assumed name. It might also explain the images she’d mentioned of those dead people.
She might have witnessed a crime, entered witness protection, then killed this man Victor because he turned on her. The same with the two guys in the woods.
But how did the lawyer play into it? Had he killed her husband, or had he represented her to the Federal Marshals and helped arrange her new identity?
* * *
JANE WOKE TO the heavenly scent of coffee brewing. At first, she was disoriented, but she rolled over and saw sunlight streaming through the window. The bed beside her was empty.
Fletch.
She was in his house, in his bed. They’d made love last night. And it had been wonderful.
But what would happen today?
She rose and slipped on one of his shirts lying on the chair, buttoned it up, then tiptoed to the bathroom and washed her face. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, loosening the knots as she examined her image in the mirror.
The bruises were fading, but she still had some discoloration on her forehead. Her eyes looked brighter and more rested, although her forehead wrinkled into a frown. For all she knew about herself, she might as well be looking at a stranger’s face in the mirror.
“Who are you, Jane?” she whispered. “And who was this woman Bianca?”
The sound of Fletch’s footsteps brought her from the bathroom, and she walked through the bedroom and yanked on socks, then stepped into the living room. The strong scent of coffee wafted toward her, luring her into the kitchen.
Fletch stood on his back deck, facing the beautiful mountains, a mug in his hand. An extra one sat on the counter, so she filled it and carried her cup out to the deck.
Her breath caught at the sight of the snowy ridges, then the rippling river water below. The sight of Fletch’s handsome chiseled body sent a hot flame of desire through her.
“Morning.” Fletch tilted his head to look at her, his sexy eyes meeting hers as if searching for regrets.
She had none, at least not about sleeping with him. “Morning.” She warmed her hands by cradling the hot coffee. “Thanks. I may not remember my name, but I think I’m a coffee addict.”
A sly grin tugged at his mouth. “Me, too.”
For a moment they stood still, sipping their coffee and simply enjoying the scenery.
“This place is breathtaking,” she murmured.
“Thanks. I had it built,” Fletch said. “Once Mom and Dad died, the four of us decided to build our own places. Too many memories at the old homestead.”
“And I have hardly any,” she said.
“Sorry, that was insensitive.”
“No, you were being honest. And I have to recover my past in order to clear my name and have a future,” she said earnestly.
“You will.” Fletch leaned against the deck rail, almost pensive. “I was thinking about possible theories this morning, trying to fit the random clues together. The fake name Bianca, your memory of seeing dead bodies, the men trying to kill you. We talked before about you possibly witnessing a crime. What if that is the case, and you entered WITSEC until you could testify?”
Jane massaged her temple. WITSEC would explain her name change, and could mean she wasn’t a killer.
“I texted Liam and asked him to consult with the Federal Marshals.”
A knock sounded on Fletch’s front door. Jane jerked her gaze to Fletch. “Did you tell anyone I was here?”
He shook his head. “No. Go into the bedroom and stay while I see who it is.”
Nerves pinged inside Jane as she hurried into Fletch’s bedroom. She closed the door and locked it, then pressed her ear to the flat surface to listen to the conversation. Through the slit in the doorjamb, she watched two of his brothers storm in.
“What in the hell is going on, Fletch?” Jacob barked.
Fletch ran his hands through his hair. “What do you mean?”
Jacob strode through the room, looking around as if he was searching for something. “That damn lawyer called me. He said Jane assaulted him and stole his car.”
Fletch crossed his arms. “If she did, she must have had a good reason.” He turned toward Liam. “What about the WITSEC angle?” Fletch said, dodging his brother’s question.
A chill went through Jane, and she snatched her clothes and quickly dressed.
“I’ve got calls into the Federal Marshals and am waiting to hear back,” Liam said. “But they don’t share information easily, even to the FBI.”
&nb
sp; “Listen to me, little brother,” Jacob continued. “At this point, Jane is considered a fugitive. She jumped bail, assaulted a man and stole his car. If you’re hiding her, then you can be charged with aiding and abetting a felon,” Jacob bellowed. “Perhaps even as an accomplice to murder.”
Oh, God. Jane couldn’t let Fletch get in trouble because of her.
She couldn’t find the truth if she was locked in a cell, either. And it sounded as if Jacob had already convicted her in his mind.
Panic and reason warred inside her. She had to return to that cabin and see if being there triggered her memories. But going back would be dangerous.
She rushed to Fletch’s pack and removed his weapon. She grabbed an extra magazine and put it in her pocket with the gun.
Tiptoeing, she ducked out the sliders leading to the back deck, then jogged down the steps into the woods.
She’d find a ride somehow, then she’d face her demons. The memory of Fletch making love to her taunted her.
She had to protect him. And that meant going alone.
Chapter Nineteen
Fletch inhaled a deep breath. “I thought you suspected Halls was lying.”
Jacob and Liam exchanged looks. “Your theory about WITSEC made me start thinking,” Liam said. “Halls could have worked with Jane to enter her into the program.”
Fletch jammed his hands in his pockets. “I considered that possibility, but if so, why didn’t he tell us that?”
Liam cleared his throat. “Part of the reason WITSEC works is the safety and security it provides for the witness. That means extremely limited access to information regarding the person, their new identity and their location. All communication between family, friends or former coworkers is completely cut off.”
“I understand that,” Fletch said. “But Jacob is law enforcement.”
“One leak, even unintentional, can endanger the person in the program,” Liam said.
Fletch scratched his head. “We need to talk to Halls. Force him to tell us what’s going on. If he arranged for Jane to enter WITSEC, then he has information about the crime she witnessed and who’s after her.”
“I’ll contact him and ask him to meet us,” Jacob offered.
Liam leaned against the kitchen island. “Did Jane tell you anything else, Fletch?”
Fletch considered confiding that Jane thought Halls had been at the murder scene, but he wasn’t ready to reveal she was hiding in his bedroom.
She trusted him and he wanted to keep it that way.
So he opted for focusing on the couples she’d seen in her nightmares. “She also had dreams where she saw the faces of men and women who’d been murdered. Married couples.”
Liam went very still. “Couples?”
Fletch nodded. “A man and woman lying together, dead. She said it was just flashes of images, that it could have been photographs from the news.”
Liam drummed his fingers on the bar. “The FBI is investigating a case involving married couples being murdered. What if Jane witnessed one of them?”
Fletch crossed his arms. “That sounds feasible.”
Jacob shifted. “But how does her husband play into it?”
“Maybe he was the killer,” Fletch said. “She could have found out what he did or saw him kill one of the couples and confronted him. He came after her to silence her, then she killed him in self-defense.”
“All possibilities,” Liam admitted. “Although just theories at this point.” He snapped his fingers. “Let me see what I can find out.” He removed his phone from his belt and stepped onto the deck to make a phone call.
Jacob tapped his phone. “I’ll call Halls and see if I can convince him to come in.”
Fletch nodded as Jacob made the call. He placed it on speaker, but Halls’s voice mail picked up, so Jacob left a message saying it was urgent he return his call.
Fletch watched Liam pace the deck as he talked. He paused by the table and stared at the coffee mugs on the table.
Two of them.
Dammit.
A second later, Liam strode in, jaw set, eyes flaring with suspicion. “She’s here, isn’t she, Fletch? You’ve been hiding her and lying to us ever since we arrived.”
* * *
GUILT NAGGED AT Jane as she darted through the woods. She hated leaving Fletch in the lurch, but she cared too much about him to cause him trouble with his family. He’d suffered enough anguish with his parents’ deaths.
Her memory loss, the past, the shooting—they were her problems.
She dealt with her problems on her own. She had to. She had no one to rely on.
She halted for a moment, the realization that she was truly alone clear in her mind. She had never been married.
So who was the man who’d put the ring on her finger?
Shaken, but hoping for another breakthrough, she followed the river east toward the outskirts of Whistler to the road leading out of town. Logic warred with panic. She needed transportation.
A car whizzed by and her stomach somersaulted. Not knowing who was after her made her hesitant to climb in a vehicle with a stranger.
Another car rumbled behind her, and she dove behind some bushes to hide until it passed. As soon as it sped by her, she began walking again, ears peeled for other cars approaching as she followed the road.
Two-foot snowdrifts still stood along the side of the road. Melted snow and ice clogged the shoulder, forcing her to tread more slowly than she wanted. Finally she spotted a farm complete with a barn and a couple of horses and cows in the pasture.
The house was set back down a mile-long drive, but an old truck sat abandoned near the road with a For Sale sign tacked on the windshield.
She scanned the drive and road but didn’t see anyone watching so she opened the driver’s door and slid in. The seats were worn, the truck battered. She just prayed it would start.
No keys in the ignition. Instinctively, she checked the vehicle but found nothing, so she hotwired the engine. It purred softly, bringing a relieved smile to her face. On the heels of relief came the question—how had she known how to hotwire a car?
She didn’t have time to dwell on that question, though. The owner could appear any minute.
She shifted into Drive, pressed the accelerator and veered onto the road. An old farm hat lay on the seat, so she picked it up and jammed it on her head as a disguise.
Knowing Fletch and his brothers might be looking for her, and the truck owner might report his truck stolen, she maintained a steady speed limit so as not to draw attention.
The country road was practically deserted, with only an occasional car and a couple of eighteen-wheelers passing by. A few more miles, and a truck carrying crates of live chickens zoomed past, heading in the opposite direction.
She wasn’t sure she remembered how to find the cabin where Halls took her, but as she drove, she searched for landmarks she’d noticed on the drive. A horse farm. Sign advertising strawberry picking, although that was out of season. Signs for apple orchards a little farther north.
A siren suddenly blared, and she glanced in her rearview mirror, dread curling in her belly. She searched for a side road to turn onto, but there was nothing.
The wailing grew louder. She maintained her speed, praying the police weren’t after her.
Blue lights twirled in the sky, the siren taunting her as the police car grew closer and closer.
* * *
“WHAT THE HELL?” Liam snapped. “We’re helping you and you’re lying to us.”
“Look, I was going to tell you,” Fletch said. “But I wanted to know if you had information first.”
Jacob glared at him. “Where is she?”
Fletch hurried to block the way as Jacob barreled toward the bedroom.
“Don’t tell me you slept with her,” Liam said darkly.
&n
bsp; Fletch held up a hand to prevent them from storming in. “Let me explain. She came here last night. She was scared, said when Halls drove her to the house she and her husband supposedly lived in, she knew something was wrong. That he was lying. She was afraid of him, and didn’t want to go inside with him, so she took his car and drove to a coffee shop to meet me.”
His brothers frowned in disapproval.
“Why was she afraid of him? Did he say something? Try to hurt her?” Liam asked.
Fletch gritted his teeth. “She remembered seeing him at the house when her husband was shot. She thought he killed her husband and framed her.”
Jacob heaved a breath. “Or maybe he showed up to consult with her after the shooting and tried to help her enter WITSEC like we discussed.”
“Tell her to come out here,” Liam ordered. “We have to talk.”
Fletch wanted to protect Jane. But the only way to do that was to uncover the truth. So he knocked on the bedroom door, then eased it open.
The sight of the sliders open with the wind blowing through indicated she was already gone.
Jacob burst in behind him, and Liam followed, searching the room and master bath.
Fletch hurried onto the deck and scanned the woods. But he didn’t see Jane.
“Where the hell did she go?” Jacob asked from behind him.
Fletch shook his head. “She must have panicked when she heard you guys.”
“Or she’s been lying and using you,” Jacob suggested.
No...he couldn’t have been a fool. Not again.
Liam shook his head. “Running doesn’t look good for her case, Fletch.”
His brother didn’t have to tell him that. He’d trusted Jane. And he thought she’d trusted him.
He stepped back inside and he checked his pack.
Dammit to hell, she’d stolen his gun.
* * *
AS THE POLICE car raced up behind Jane, déjà vu struck her. Another time when she’d been chased. Another siren.
No...that didn’t seem right...
