“Then take me to another shelter. Surely there’s another shelter in Denver or Boulder.”
“I’m sure there is,” he said reasonably. “I was hoping you’d stay here.”
“We both know that’s a bad idea.” The thought of venturing out into a world where maniacs in SUVs shot randomly at her was about as appetizing as another tumble down the mountain. But Hannah knew she didn’t have a choice. “I don’t want to come between you and your friend.”
“Buzz and I have been friends for eight years. We might disagree about how I’m handling this, but it’s not going to come between our friendship.” His eyes narrowed. “That’s not really what you’re worried about, though, is it?”
Hefting the bag higher on her shoulder, she gathered the broken fragments of what was left of her courage and met his gaze head-on. “Look, this is getting really complicated—”
“Is it?”
She stared at him, incredulous. “In case you haven’t been paying attention, I’m pregnant.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Well, I didn’t get that way by myself.”
The muscles in his jaw flexed. “Spell it out for me.”
“I’m carrying another man’s child, John. Even if I’m not married, I’ve got to be involved in a very serious relationship to have gotten this way. I may not have my memory, but I don’t need it to know I wouldn’t take something like that lightly.”
“You’re not sure about any of that. You could be divorced for all you know. You’re not wearing a ring.”
“Whatever the scenario, nothing good can come out of my staying here with you.”
“Unless your husband is the man who put those bruises on you.”
The words struck her like a boxer’s punch, so solid and hard she was stunned for a moment. The strap slipped from her shoulder. The bag hit the floor with a thunk. “We don’t know that, either.”
“I’m not going to rule it out.”
She’d considered the possibility. But to hear the words spoken aloud, to think that a man she loved would hurt her while she carried his child within her womb was too ugly to accept. “That doesn’t explain the SUV. Or why someone tried to shoot me. That doesn’t sound like something an abusive husband would do.”
“Maybe not. But the bottom line is, I don’t want anything to happen to you, Hannah. I’m in a position to help you. Why won’t you let me?”
She’d vowed not to let his words touch her—or affect her decision; Hannah knew what she had to do. But she could tell by the way her heart wrenched in her chest the words had already touched her deeply. “I can’t stay.”
“If you’re worried about what happened in the kitchen—”
“And at Angela Pearl’s. And again last night. And every time we look at each other.”
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “So we…acted irresponsibly. We’re adults. We’ll handle it.”
“I can’t.” Despite her best efforts, her voice quavered. “You’re a decent man, John, and I thank you for everything you’ve done, but I can’t stay here. If I’m married or otherwise involved with someone, I could never live with myself if…something…happened between us. I can’t get…involved with you. I’m not that kind of person.”
“I know you’re not. What happened was my fault.”
“I knew what I was doing.”
“You were vulnerable—”
“I won’t change my mind, John. I’m sorry if you don’t understand, but if you won’t take me back into town, I’ll find another way.”
The sudden chirp of his pager made her jump. John read the number and cursed. “It’s a call out.” He raked his hand through his hair. “I’ve got to respond.” He looked at her. “Promise me you’ll be here when I get back.”
Hannah knew it would be easier to call a taxi and make a clean break while he was gone. She knew John would give her the money if she asked. But she didn’t want to ask. And she didn’t want to walk away like that. Not after everything he’d done for her. “Will you drive me back to town later?” she asked.
“I will, but I’m going to try to talk you out of it.” When she started to protest, he raised his hand. “I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Just promise me you won’t do anything until I get back. Will you do that for me, Red?”
Hannah didn’t have the heart to say no. “I’ll wait, but I’m not going to change my mind.”
He lifted his hand as if to touch her, but dropped it to his side when she stepped back. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said. “If you need me, call headquarters.” Turning, he left without looking back.
* * *
He lurked in the shadows.
Even from where she stood, she sensed his anger. It was like a living thing inside him, a monster that appeared out of nowhere, as dark and unpredictable as a tornado, ripping through the countryside.
This wasn’t the way she’d planned to tell him. Not in her worst dream. Tonight should have been one of the happiest days of their lives.
He’d turned it into a nightmare.
The first blow shocked her speechless. Pain zinged across her right cheekbone. Instant tears burned her eyes. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the outrage exploding in her heart…
Hannah jerked awake, shaken and disoriented, her heart racing. It took her a moment to realize where she was, and that she was alone. Raising her hand, she touched her cheek with her fingertips, almost expecting to feel pain. She told herself it was just a dream, but she knew it wasn’t. Her memories were coming back, she realized, and none of them were good.
A glance at the clock on the mantle told her she’d been asleep for almost an hour. It seemed like only a minute or two had passed since she’d lain down on the sofa to wait for John.
Around her, the living room was dark. The embers of the fire glowed red and gold. Moonlight slashed through the front window and sprinkled silver drops over the braided rug, casting shadows that danced like dark figurines on the wall. Sitting up, Hannah gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. Her next thought hit her brain like a punch.
She’d left the lamp on, hadn’t she? So then why was the house dark?
The burn of adrenaline cut through her belly like a saber. She sat up straighter and listened to the press of silence. The hiss of the fire. The buzz of the ceiling fan overhead. The tick-tock of the clock on the mantel. Across the room, Honeybear growled low in his throat.
“Honeybear?” she whispered. “Come here, boy.”
For the first time, the dog didn’t bound over and smother her with messy kisses. The click of his toenails against the floor as he waddled into the kitchen was his only response.
A minute sound at the front window sent another zing of adrenaline through her. Rising, Hannah padded silently over to the window and peeked out. Silver moonlight sparked off the snow, illuminating the branches of the conifer that grew alongside the cabin. An ice-covered branch scratched against the glass like a spindly fingernail. No gun-toting maniac in an SUV anywhere in sight.
Letting out a sigh of relief, she flipped the light switch. The first vestiges of fear crawled over her when the room remained dark. “Okay,” she said. “It’s probably just a fuse.”
Remembering John had given her his card with the number to RMSAR headquarters, she glanced around and found her canvas bag on the floor next to the coffee table. She pulled out the card, telling herself he would probably have to talk her through the dynamics of changing a fuse. She picked up the phone. Her plan died a quick death when she found the line dead.
Fear coiled like a snake in her gut. Hannah fought it, telling herself no one could possibly know she was here. Or could they?
The sound of breaking glass fractured her thin hold on control. She spun toward the kitchen. Over the wild drum of her heart, she heard Honeybear barking. And she knew.
Someone was coming in through the back door.
Forgetting the need for stealth, she sprinted to the
front door, slammed the bolt lock aside and flung it open. Icy air greeted like a slap, but she didn’t pause. She ran across the porch and down the steps, slipping on a patch of ice at the base of the stairs. Behind her, she heard the dog barking frantically. Concern for the animal halted her midstride.
“Honeybear!” she called out. “Come here, boy!”
But it wasn’t the dog that appeared at the front door. Less than a dozen feet away, a man stepped out on the porch. He was thickly built. Tall. With the unmistakable silhouette of a gun in his hand.
Hannah stared, terror singing through her veins. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he’d spotted her. Her brain screamed for her to run, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away. The familiarity of his movements stunned her, tore at the barriers to her memory. She knew him, she realized. Knew she was in danger. Knew he would hurt her if she let him. Knew he would kill her and her unborn child if she gave him the chance.
Spinning, she sprinted across the yard toward the road. Her feet sank into the snow, her breaths puffing out in front of her. Cold seeped through her socks and bandages to numb her feet.
The first shot sounded ridiculously like a firecracker. But Hannah knew the sound, felt the kick of terror, looked frantically for a place to take cover. Oh, God, please don’t let him hurt my baby. There were no neighbors in sight. No lights to guide her. Only trees and snow and her own terror.
Two more shots rang out. Arms outstretched, Hannah covered the ground with reckless speed. Across the road, into the drainage ditch. “Help me!” she screamed.
Hope exploded in her chest when headlights slashed through the darkness. “Help me! Please, help me!” Heedless to the dangers of the speeding vehicle, she sprinted toward the headlights. The Jeep skidded to a halt a dozen feet away. The driver’s side door swung open. “What the hell?”
“John!” Surprise and relief and a hundred other emotions pummeled her. She scrambled toward him, slipped on the icy roadway and fell to her knees. “He’s got a gun!”
“Whoa. Who’s got a gun? What’s going on?”
“He’s here! In the cabin! He’s got a gun!”
Strong hands grasped her shoulders as she struggled to her feet. “Slow down. Easy. Just calm down for me, okay?”
“He was in the cabin! He’s armed. He’ll kill us both!”
“Get in the Jeep.” Yanking open the door, John practically shoved her inside. He snatched his cell phone off the console and thrust it into her hands. “Call Lake County Sheriff’s Department. Speed dial two. I’m going to have a look.”
She took the phone, punched the number. “He’s armed, John. He’ll kill you.” With the phone to her ear, she started to get out of the Jeep, but John blocked her way.
“Stay put, dammit!”
For the first time it hit her that Honeybear hadn’t come out of the cabin. “Honeybear’s still inside,” she said.
“I’ll get him,” he said. “You stay put. Get Lake County out here now.” Without waiting for a reply, he started for the cabin at a dead run.
* * *
John’s heart pounded pure adrenaline through his veins as he jogged across the porch and swung open the front door. He knew better than to walk into a situation like this without some kind of weapon to back him up. But the thought of an armed intruder breaking into his home, threatening Hannah or hurting a harmless animal like Honeybear made his temper boil.
The living room stood dark and ominously silent. Giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, he slipped into the room, listening, his every sense honed on his surroundings. The clock on the mantel ticked. The embers in the fireplace hissed like snakes. Moving silently across the living room, he peered into the hall to find it empty. On the kitchen floor, broken glass sparked like icy crystals. John’s temper roiled at the sight of the broken pane; he felt the violation all the way down to his bones.
The son of a bitch had been in his home.
A sound from the hall spun him around. Ready to tear whomever had done this apart with his bare hands, John stepped into the hall. The bathroom door was closed. Something moved on the other side. Without giving himself time to debate safety, he kicked in the door.
Yelping once, Honeybear rushed out, his tail between his legs. Cursing the quick jab of fear—and an even sharper jab of sympathy for his dog—John followed the animal into the living room and knelt, aware of his heart beating hard and fast in his chest. “Let’s have a look at you, big guy.”
The animal licked John’s hands. John winced at the sight of blood on the velveteen bridge of the wide nose. His temper stirred at the thought of some mindless goon hurting such a sweet-tempered dog.
“Is he all right?”
He jumped at the sound of Hannah’s voice. “He’s cut, but it’s not too bad.”
He told himself the urge to go to her, to wrap his arms around her trembling shoulders, was what she needed, not him. But John knew it was a lie. He knew the need to feel her softness and quiet strength against him was all his own, and he felt it raging inside him right alongside the anger and fear and the outrage at having his sanctuary invaded.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I need to sit down.”
Shoving caution aside, he went to her. “What is it? Are you hurt?”
“Just a little nausea.”
Putting his arm around her waist, he guided her to the sofa and settled her onto it. “Sit.”
“Like I’m going to argue with you.”
“Yeah, well, it wouldn’t surprise me.” He touched her shoulder. “Lean forward and put your head between your knees.”
“John, I’m—”
“Humor me, Red, for God’s sake.”
She did as she was told.
John looked around the living room, taking a quick inventory in the semidarkness. Cold air poured through the open front door. Except for the broken pane in the kitchen, nothing appeared to be out of place. In the distance, the sound of a siren broke the stillness of the night.
“This is my fault.”
John turned to see her sitting up, leaning against the sofa back. Her face was powder pale in the wash of moonlight. He shouldn’t have noticed how beautiful she looked with her dark eyes and trembling mouth and her hair tumbling over her shoulders. But he did notice, and he felt the impact of her beauty like the blow of a sledgehammer.
“This isn’t your fault,” he growled.
“It’s me he wants, not you.”
“Who?”
She sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Like I’m going to hand you over.” When she merely stared at him, he added, “For the next few days, it’s a package deal, okay? If he wants you, I’m part of the package. He can damn well deal with me, too.”
“Look, before you left tonight, you agreed to drive me—”
“I agreed to discuss it with you.” He cut her a sharp look. “Here’s a news flash. I’ve changed my mind.”
“John, I’m the reason this happened.”
“And I’m the reason he didn’t get his hands on you,” he snapped.
“He was armed. He could have—”
“He didn’t.”
She looked down at her hands twisting in her lap. “I’ve turned your life upside down. I didn’t want that to happen.”
“I’m not complaining, Red. Dammit, I’m involved because I want to be.” John didn’t mention the fact that he couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to her. Or that he could still feel the razor’s edge of fear slashing his gut. He would never forget how she’d looked, running toward his Jeep in the darkness. Or the way his heart had frozen into a solid block at the thought of a bullet finding its mark.
Troubled by the thoughts, he glanced over at her. Even in the semidarkness he could see she was trembling. Her hands. Her shoulders. Her face was so pale that, in the moonlight coming through the window, she looked like a ghost. “Do you feel steady enough to tell me what happened?”
She nodded, he
r gaze meeting his. “I fell asleep on the sofa while I was waiting for you. When I woke up, the lights were out. I thought maybe it was a fuse or something, but when I tried the phone it was dead. Honeybear started growling, and the next thing I knew I heard the glass breaking.”
The primal need to protect what was his—this woman, his dog, his home—made him grit his teeth in anger. “The son of a bitch.”
“This isn’t about you, John.”
“He just made it about me.”
“He won’t let you stop him.” She turned tear bright eyes on him. “He won’t let you get in the way.”
The fact that she knew those things stopped him cold. “How do you know that?”
Her eyes widened. “I’m—I’m not sure.”
“Did what happened tonight somehow trigger your memory?”
“I know him,” she whispered.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled. “Who is he?”
“I don’t know his name, but he’s familiar to me.”
“How so?”
“I don’t know…exactly.”
“Do you know why he’s trying to get to you?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“What else do you remember?”
“He’s the same man in the nightmare.”
“Did you see his face?”
“I only saw him in silhouette.” She rubbed her temples with her fingers. “The memory… It’s so close. It’s driving me crazy. I can’t do this anymore. John, I need to know who I am.” Tears shimmered like raindrops in her eyes when she looked up at him. “I want to see the psychiatrist Dr. Morgan recommended.”
“We’ll call him first thing in the morning, all right?”
She nodded. “I’m sorry I got you involved. I mean, you don’t even know me. You don’t know what kind of person I am—”
“I know exactly what kind of person you are.” Easing down on the sofa beside her, he tried not to think about the irony of her words. John knew exactly what kind of person Hannah was. Because of that, he couldn’t help but wonder how the kind and compassionate woman he’d come to care about so deeply would react when she found out the truth about him.
A Hero to Hold Page 16
