A Hero to Hold

by Linda Castillo

  “I—I’m okay,” she whispered. “I just…”

  Buzz had risen and stood behind his desk staring at her with an odd mix of concern and suspicion in his eyes.

  “My God, you’re shaking,” John said. “Are you in pain?”

  Embarrassment washed over her, drowning the remnants of fear and the lingering sense of danger that had threatened to consume her seconds earlier. “I’m…all right.”

  “Are you dizzy?” he pressed. “Headache?”

  “No. Nothing like that. I just…felt really strange for a second.” She looked down, not sure how to explain, only to realize she’d dropped her coffee at some point and the cup now lay at her feet in a puddle. “I’m sorry about the coffee—”

  “Don’t worry, the floor’s coffeeproof.” Catching her gaze, John flashed her an uneasy grin. “Even Buzz’s coffee.”

  The older man came around the desk. “Head injury?”

  “Concussion. CT was fine. No bleeding.”

  “She’s pale.” Buzz started toward the door. “I’ll get some water.”

  Raising her fingers to her forehead, Hannah rubbed the sore spot between her eyes where a headache had broken through. “I didn’t mean to make a scene.”

  “You didn’t. You just sort of zoned out for a second. I thought you were going to pass out.” Putting his finger under her chin, he forced her gaze to his. “What happened?”

  What had happened? One minute she’d been taking in the aspects of Buzz’s office, the next, her mind had taken her to a place that had left her trembling with fear. A terrible place she prayed wasn’t the life she couldn’t remember. “I think I had some sort of…flashback.”

  Buzz came through the door, a paper cup in hand, his eyes sharp on Hannah. “Drink this,” he said, handing her the cup.

  Needing to do something with her hands to keep them from shaking, Hannah reached for the cup and drank deeply, using that moment to gather her thoughts—and her composure.

  “I heard you use the word flashback,” Buzz said. “What do you mean by that?”

  Hannah looked up to find the older man standing behind his desk, his hands on his hips, waiting for an explanation she had no desire to give. “We haven’t had a chance to explain yet, but one of the reasons we’re here is because I’m suffering from what appears to be…some form of…amnesia.”

  “Amnesia?” Thinly concealed skepticism laced the older man’s voice. “As in memory loss?” His gaze swept to John. “Are you serious?”

  His tone elicited a sharp look from the younger man. “She suffered a concussion, Buzz, and has some memory loss.” Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he looked over at Hannah. “She doesn’t even remember her name.”

  Something inside Hannah winced when she saw doubt on the other man’s face. She wasn’t sure why, but his opinion was important to her. Maybe because she knew it was important to John.

  “Let me get this straight.” Buzz’s gaze cut from Hannah to John, then back to Hannah. “You woke up in the hospital without your memory, and you don’t even remember your own name?”

  Steeling herself against the disbelief in his voice, she jerked her head once.

  “What about where you work? Or where you live?”

  “I know it sounds…unlikely,” she said, hating the uncertainty in her own voice, “but it’s true. And it’s been very frightening.”

  Incredulity shone clearly on Buzz’s face. He didn’t say the words, but Hannah didn’t need to hear them to know he didn’t believe her. She told herself she should have expected skepticism. Amnesia was as far out as it got when it came to medical conditions. If she wasn’t experiencing it firsthand, she, too, might have been a skeptic. Even so, it hurt that Buzz doubted her.

  “John told me you used to be a police officer,” she began. “We thought you might be able to help me find my identity through fingerprinting or know of some other avenue we could pursue. Maybe help us with missing persons reports.”

  “Or warrants,” Buzz said.

  John’s gaze narrowed on his team leader. “That’s enough.”

  The other man’s gaze didn’t falter from hers, and he didn’t bother to look chagrined. “I didn’t appreciate having a gun pointed at one of my medics,” he said. “You’re lucky you’re not in a jail cell right now.”

  Hannah felt herself recoil, starkly aware of her heart beating wildly in her chest. She wished she could deny having that gun, but she couldn’t because she remembered the deadly weight of it in her hand, her resolve to use it pounding at the back of her brain. “I’m sorry…I wouldn’t have…”

  “Shot the man who was trying to save your life?” Buzz snapped.

  “I don’t even know why I had it or where it came from.”

  “That’s convenient.”

  “I’m not a criminal,” she said.

  “I thought you didn’t remember who you are or aren’t,” Buzz returned evenly.

  Cursing under his breath, John shot him a dark look. “Dammit, Buzz, that’s enough.”

  The older man arched a brow. “I can’t believe you’re buying this.”

  “I believe her.” John’s gaze didn’t falter.

  “Oh, for crying out loud!”

  “She doesn’t need this right now, Buzz—”

  “I can speak for myself,” Hannah cut in.

  Both men ignored her. “When do you suggest we ask the hard questions, John?”

  “We’re working on that.”

  “That must have been what you were doing when I walked into the kitchen.”

  John raked a hand over his five o’clock shadow. “She’s pregnant.”

  The older man lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked at John over his knuckles. “I’d like a word with you.” Lowering his hand, he glanced at Hannah. “Alone.”

  Hurt that he hadn’t given her the benefit of a doubt, angry that she couldn’t disprove his suspicions, Hannah rose abruptly. She told herself it didn’t matter what Buzz Malone thought of her. It didn’t matter what John thought of her, either. But she knew she was only lying to herself.

  Squaring her shoulders, she raised her chin and looked Buzz in the eye. “You’re wrong about me.”

  “I hope so,” he said quietly.

  Without waiting for a reply, she turned on her heel and left the room.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Well, that was subtle as hell,” John said angrily.

  “About as subtle as someone shoving a gun in your face.” Leaning back in his chair, Buzz scowled at him. “You’ve got too good a head on your shoulders to be spending time with a woman who pulled a gun on you.”

  “Maybe she thought she didn’t have a choice.”

  “Maybe she sees the way you look at her and knows a sucker when she sees one.”

  Curbing the nasty retort on his tongue, John rose and stalked across the room, trying in vain to reel in his temper. He’d known bringing Hannah here wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had. An ex-cop, Buzz was suspicious by nature and a stickler for procedure. He also had strict rules about fraternization and appearances when it came to the team. They hadn’t exactly followed the rules when it came to Hannah’s rescue. If it hadn’t been for her injuries—and the bruises—he knew Buzz would have turned her over to the police.

  John blew out a sigh of frustration and faced Buzz. “I told you, she was confused and hallucinating. She thought I was someone else.”

  “Oh, so since she was hallucinating, it’s okay for her to stick a gun in your face—”

  “Dammit, you saw those bruises on her. Maybe she was protecting herself.”

  “And maybe you’re a hell of a lot more involved than you should be. For God’s sake, John, I thought you of all people had better judgment than to fall for this kind of cockamamie story.”

  “My judgment is just fine—”

  “Except when it comes to women. I don’t need to remind you that you’ve had your fair share of problems.”

  The words rankled
him, but John didn’t bother to deny it. He was more involved than he should be. And he’d definitely had more than his fair share of problems with women. Buzz knew about Rhonda. It had been five years ago, but John still carried the scars. Not the physical variety, but the kind that marked a man’s soul for the rest of his life.

  Buzz also knew about what had happened back in Philly. What he didn’t know was that John had made not getting involved his life ambition. John might like the way Hannah looked. He might like her smile and her scent and the way all that red hair tumbled over her shoulders. But he was still in control of the situation. When the time came, he’d have no qualms about walking away. As much the other man’s words ticked him off, he just didn’t see fit to explain.

  “I should have turned her over to Lake County the second you told me about the gun,” Buzz growled.

  “We both know why you didn’t.”

  The older man scowled.

  “You saw those bruises, Buzz. You saw what someone did to her. Dammit, she’s three months pregnant. What kind of monster does that to a pregnant woman, for God’s sake?”

  “Bruises don’t warrant taking up arms even if she is pregnant. Dammit, this is not our problem. She’s not our problem. I wish like hell I’d put that in my report and let the sheriff’s department handle it.” He shot John a sage look. “Especially now that I see you’re getting cozy with her.”

  John stared at his team leader and felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. “I’m not getting cozy with her.”

  “Sure looked that way when I walked into the kitchen and saw you making cow eyes at each other. You don’t want to get in the middle of this, John.”

  “I’m not involved.”

  “As far as you know, she’s got a husband—”

  “She’s not wearing a ring—”

  “Like that makes a damn bit of difference.”

  “It would to her.”

  Buzz’s brows shot up. He laughed but there was no humor in it. “Oh, holy hell.”

  “I’m not involved with her, dammit.” John rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s in trouble, Buzz. She doesn’t have anywhere to go. No one to help her. She doesn’t even remember her own name.”

  “That woman is trouble, John. I have radar when it comes to women and trouble, and believe me, she has it written all over her.”

  “Look, Buzz, I don’t mean to make this personal, but just because Kelly burned you—”

  “This isn’t about Kelly,” he growled. “It’s about a vulnerable woman with a pretty face and an unlikely as hell story.” His jaw flexed. “Is she staying with you?”

  John’s temper unfurled. “Oh, for crying out loud!”

  Unfazed by the younger man’s wrath, Buzz frowned and waited for an answer.

  “I’m taking her to a shelter in Denver. Not that it’s any of your damn business.”

  “What happened five years ago makes it my business.”

  John tried not to wince, but he did. And he knew Buzz saw it. “Regret your decision?”

  “Hell, no I don’t. I just want to make sure you remember how expensive mistakes can be.”

  Turning away, John shoved his hands into his pockets. No matter how hard he tried, he would never forget. Those events had left a permanent mark on his life, a wound on his heart that would never fully heal.

  “Do yourself a favor and take her to the shelter, then wash your hands of it. You’ve done your part. I’ll call the police department and have someone standing by to take her prints and run them through the database. I’ll give Missing Persons a call.”

  “That’s all I’m asking.”

  “You sure about that?” Buzz asked pointedly.

  John glared at him.

  “If the media gets a hold of this story, I don’t want RMSAR involved. They’ll turn it into a circus.”

  John’s temper spiked another notch. “Are you finished?”

  “Look, John, I don’t know what’s going on between you two—”

  “Nothing’s going on.”

  “She might have the face of an angel, but you don’t know who you’re dealing with. She could have killed you. You don’t know if she’s stable. Or if she’s got a record. Or if she’s lying about the amnesia.”

  “I’m a big boy, Buzz.”

  “Yeah, and hopefully Bruno, her husband, isn’t the jealous type.”

  The thought annoyed the hell out of him, but John refused to let Buzz see it. He didn’t have a reason to be annoyed, after all, since he had no intention of getting involved with her. “Yeah, well, maybe he’s the one who put those bruises on her.”

  Buzz stared hard at him across the desk. “Do us both a favor and stay away from her, at least until I can find out who she is. Can you do that for me?”

  John didn’t like being told what to do. He could handle Hannah and whatever it was he felt for her. He had the situation under control. Damn Buzz for doubting him. Grinding his teeth in anger, he turned, grabbed his parka from the chair and strode to the door. “Let me know if you hear anything on that SUV.”

  Buzz’s voice stopped him. “I could have traced that gun, you know. It’s pretty convenient that she dropped it.”

  He turned, gazed levelly at the other man. “Maybe I’ll rappel down and get it just to prove you wrong.”

  “Watch your back.”

  “I always do,” he said, and walked out.

  * * *

  “I guess it’s safe to say Mr. Malone doesn’t trust me.”

  “Buzz doesn’t trust anyone.”

  “He doesn’t believe me about the amnesia, either, does he?”

  John stopped the Jeep at a traffic light, then turned left toward the shelter. “Buzz is an ex-cop. Law enforcement has warped his mind.”

  A humorless laugh squeezed from Hannah’s throat. “To be perfectly honest, I can’t blame him,” she said. “This amnesia thing is pretty…wild.”

  He didn’t like the hopelessness in her voice. He wished he could dispute her words, but he couldn’t and that rankled him, too. Damn Buzz and his uncompromising attitude.

  “He thinks I’m some kind of criminal,” she said.

  “He probably frisks his own mother before Sunday dinner, for crying out loud.”

  Sighing, she shot him a troubled look. “He shouldn’t have doubted you.”

  John didn’t have a reply for that one. Maybe because he wasn’t all that sure he agreed with her. Hannah didn’t know about Philly; she didn’t know about Rhonda. Buzz knew about both fiascos and had taken him on anyway.

  He pulled curbside in front of the shelter and put the Jeep in park. “Buzz’s wife, Kelly, divorced him a few months back. He won’t talk about it, but I think it hurt him a lot. He’s pretty down on…you know, women.”

  “Oh.” That bit of information seemed to hold water with her. “Do you think he’ll help me?”

  “He’s going to set up fingerprinting and expedite running them through the national database. He’s also going to check with Missing Persons.”

  “I guess I should start hoping I don’t have warrants out for my arrest.”

  “That’s not funny, Red.”

  “Who’s joking? As far as I know, I could be a…a serial killer.”

  If the situation hadn’t been so serious, he might have laughed. “I consider myself a pretty good judge of character. Believe me, you’re no serial killer.”

  “That coming from a man I nearly shot.”

  “A man who knows sometimes things aren’t always as they appear.”

  She seemed to consider his words for a moment, then smiled at him from beneath her lashes. “Personal experience?”

  “Skeletons in my closet. Lots of them.”

  “Oh.”

  He looked over at her and grinned. “Just kidding. I only have a few.”

  Her smile dazzled him. He stared at her, suddenly acutely aware of her proximity, the tangle of hair, the sweetness of her scent, the power of her presence. Shaken by the rush
of feelings he had absolutely no desire to explore, he put his hands on the steering wheel and looked at the old house beyond the window.

  He knew making eye contact with her now would be a mistake, but he did it anyway, and he felt the impact of her gaze all the way down to his bones. A sweet, sensuous ache that lodged just behind his breastbone and left him feeling pleasantly buzzed and more unsettled than he’d felt in a long, long time.

  She stared back at him, surprise reflecting in her eyes. “I’ve got to go.”

  “I know.” He’d told himself it wasn’t going to be difficult leaving her at the shelter. She would be safe here. She’d be close to the hospital where Dr. Morgan had arranged for her to speak with the psychiatrist. She would be within walking distance of the police department where Buzz would arrange for her to be fingerprinted and check in with Missing Persons.

  John’s responsibility for her had ended. A clean break, just like he’d wanted. He should have been relieved, but the tightness he felt in his chest wasn’t relief. He told himself this was the right thing to do. That it was only natural for him to walk away like he’d done a dozen other times from a dozen other women in the last five years. Women he could have loved, but didn’t.

  He told himself Hannah wasn’t any different. He didn’t have feelings for her. Well, aside from a healthy dose of lust that seemed to tie him up in knots every time he looked at her. But John could handle his lust, just as he could handle that hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach as he shut down the engine and looked across the snow-covered lawn toward the rambling old Victorian known as Angela Pearl’s Shelter for Battered Women.

  What he couldn’t handle was the forlorn look in her eyes every time she forced that smile they both knew wasn’t real. Dammit, she was afraid and alone and trying like hell to be tough about this. It would have been easier for him if she’d cried. He admired courage, knew what it took to smile when the fear was clamping down like a steel trap.

  “Well, I guess this is it.” Holding on to her smile, she stuck out her hand. “Thanks for everything.”

  John stared dumbly at her hand a moment before taking it. Without looking at him, she pumped it a couple of times, then released him. “Take care of yourself, will you, John?”