by Jodie Bailey
The soft sound of movement leaked in right before a weight settled onto the floor next to her and Wyatt leaned his shoulder against hers. “I’m sorry.”
Logan had lavished her with gifts. Had wooed her by taking her to fancy restaurants and to other places a girl like her had never imagined she’d go. He’d gradually cut everyone else out of her life until he was everything she had, everything she leaned on, everything she trusted. Even beating her wasn’t as bad as this. This was... This was beyond human depravity. “I’m so glad I didn’t bring anything from him with me.” Her voice was hot and muffled against her jeans.
Wyatt said nothing, simply sat beside her, not moving, simply letting her lean against him as she absorbed the weight of her actions in her former life. Jesus... Her heart cried one name. Where would she be if He hadn’t saved her from herself after she fled Logan’s anger? Who would she be if the Savior of the world hadn’t bent to the earth for her and made her a completely different person? If she’d never left Logan, she’d still be bound to a man who...
She couldn’t even think it.
Jenna straightened, letting her forearms rest on her knees. She fixed her gaze on the cabinet in front of her as Wyatt eased away and mimicked her posture. “Listen, Jenna...”
There was more coming. Why not? It was as though her life was made up of one twist after another. She was a boulder rolling down a mountain, completely out of control, bouncing in a new direction each time an obstacle appeared in her path. “What?”
“There’s a task force investigating the ring Logan worked for and they want your help. They want you to open the shop today. They’re hoping to find some more answers through you.” He pivoted, resting a hand on her foot. “You don’t have to. Say the word and we’ll move you to—”
“I’ll do it.” What choice did she really have? Besides, her cooperation might put Logan and the men he worked with away forever, in a place where they couldn’t terrorize another woman.
But wait... Her eyebrows drew together. Based on this discussion, the authorities already had a lot of information on him and the group he worked for. Why did they need her? “What are you not telling me?”
“Logan’s not the one who’s after you.” Wyatt’s posture stiffened, then he laid a hand on Jenna’s shoulder. There was a long, sickening stretch of silence before he spoke. “Jenna... Logan Cutter is dead.”
* * *
Jenna pressed her spine against the metal door at the rear of the building while Wyatt paced her shop, pistol in hand. Nausea had persisted since Wyatt had delivered the news, and it left her knees weak and her skin hot.
Logan was dead. Murdered in his own home seven months earlier.
She pressed her fist to her mouth. The urge to run was strong. Her muscles tensed and were ready for the command, and her skin was sheened in hot sweat. It had been at least a year since her last panic attack.
Seemed her streak was about to end.
She glanced at the small bathroom where her attacker had been concealed the night before and forced herself to breathe through her nose. No one was in there now. It had been the first room Wyatt cleared on his sweep.
But someone had been there last night. Someone who knew her name. No one knew that. No one ever would, not even Wyatt and the Mountain Springs Police Department. Anthony’s skills were refined enough to build her an entirely new identity, one that would survive a background check. She didn’t want to know how he did it, and she intended to protect her new life at all costs. She could never be Genevieve Brady again.
Yet someone knew her secret. Someone who would have been paid handsomely for taking her to Texas, but by whom? If Logan was dead...
If Logan was dead then none of this made sense. If Logan was dead, she should be free to come out of hiding... Except Logan obviously wasn’t the only one who was looking for her.
Jenna kept her hand on the doorknob. She had to run. Had to. But from whom was she running?
And where would she go? Nowhere was safe. Outside stood any number of people looking to take her. Inside stood a man whom she had lost the ability to understand.
Inside also likely held a yucky cleanup.
If she focused on the work she wasn’t looking forward to, maybe she could get through this without losing her mind. She’d dumped a lot of paint on the counter last night and it had probably dried into a thick crust by now. In addition to the prep work she should have done last night, the spill would need to be cleaned before she could start the day.
Wyatt appeared at the end of the hallway, his pistol no longer in hand. Likely, it was tucked beneath the hem of the forest green Henley he wore loose over his jeans. She’d always thought the man wore a uniform well, despite his prickly personality. This casual Wyatt, though, the one she now knew also possessed a combination of lethal strength and gentle compassion...
Jenna kept her place at the door, unwilling to let those thoughts run all the way to completion. She had enough to deal with without the uncomfortable task of wrapping her head around the reality of the old Wyatt and this entirely new—and definitely improved—version.
“We’re clear. You can head to the front and start doing whatever you need to do. Go about your day like normal.” He stopped in front of her office door without meeting her eyes, almost as though he could read her mind and didn’t want to encourage her wayward thoughts about him. “All I need for you to do is keep an eye on people, see if you recognize anyone. And if I say move, I need you to move without hesitating. Otherwise, greet customers, serve coffee, teach them to paint. Life is normal and the bad guys haven’t phased you at all.”
“What about Liza?”
“She comes in at one?” He rested a hand on his hip, drumming his waist. “Let everything go on like usual.”
How? When she’d eye every stranger who walked into her shop with suspicion, maybe even fear. Even though the man who’d come after her twice the night before was in custody, she still felt as though someone was watching her every move. The thought crawled all over her skin.
Or maybe it was just Wyatt.
With a bracing breath, she pushed away from the door and started up the narrow hallway, shifting to squeeze past Wyatt where he stood in the entrance to her office.
As she passed, he wrapped his fingers lightly around her wrist.
Her breath caught in her throat and she froze, staring straight ahead, through the shop and out to the deserted early morning street beyond.
Wyatt straightened and dropped her arm, but his chest brushed her shoulder before he backed away. “I know this isn’t easy. I know you feel like every closed door is a hiding place, like every stranger is a threat. It’s okay. But know this, Jenna...” His other hand rested at the small of her back. His voice was like the low rumble of a distant waterfall, washing over her in waves of something that shimmered in her stomach. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. And I refuse to let anything happen to you.”
The momentary panic that had weakened her joints earlier leaped sideways, replaced by something completely different...though the effect was exactly the same. Nodding once, she forced herself to move forward, caught between a killer who could be lurking out front and a man who had inexplicably developed the ability to turn her thoughts inside out.
If she was going to survive this, she needed the old Wyatt to reappear, the one who consistently jumped on her last nerve and gave her the side-eye like he expected her to steal his great-grandmother’s prized silver soup ladle. This Wyatt made no sense. A nice guy who was willing to put himself between her and a bullet if needed was almost as frightening as the man who’d charged into her life and tried to kidnap her the night before, albeit in a completely different way.
Jenna planted her hands on her hips. “I took care of myself for years before you decided to ride in and play hero. I’ll be fine now. Just keep out of my way today.” She headed for the front
room, her words stinging her own ears as his hand fell away.
He said nothing.
Sure, she’d been harsh, but this tone was exactly how she’d spoken to Wyatt for years. No holds barred, no filter, no sugar coating. The moment of “normal” should have made her feel better. Instead, it left her feeling like a complete shrew.
He followed her into the main room, keeping his distance a few paces. “I guess you took the whole act-like-nothing’s-different speech to heart.” His voice was flat.
She should apologize, should confess the way this new normal was messing with her head as much as the fact her anonymity had been shattered and she had no idea who’d done it. Trying to figure out what to say, she rounded the corner of the bar and stopped, her mouth nearly dropping open.
The mess she’d dreaded cleaning was gone. No dried blue paint marred the pristine metal counter. No random bottles were scattered around the space.
She turned and scanned the far wall, near the door. The paint racks were organized, each bottle filled, each resting in its proper place. Clean brushes stood in jars, fresh trays were stacked high beneath the paints and pristine canvases leaned in their racks against the wall. There was nothing to do but flip the open sign and unlock the door.
Jenna closed her mouth, then looked to Wyatt. “Who did this?”
“Our guys cleared out early this morning. Erin texted me around three and said she had a group of ladies from the church who wanted to know if there was anything they could do to help. I guess they heard about what happened when I called in the men to fix your door.” He pinned her gaze with his, his voice intimate, almost like a caress, even from across the room. “I told you earlier, you have a lot of people in this town who care about you.”
“Does that include you?”
His head jerked, and he glanced at the front window, then to her, his expression tight and professional. “My job is to keep you safe.” Breaking the gaze, he turned and walked to the front window, where he stood ramrod straight, surveying the empty street.
Her cheeks heated. Why in the world had she asked such a loaded question? Of course he was doing his job. This was Wyatt the Noble. He wasn’t going to let personal feelings interfere with his work, even if his work was keeping her out of harm’s way. The kind of cool tolerance that had marked their relationship from the beginning didn’t disappear overnight.
Forget it. With her mind heavy under the weight of her precarious position, she needed to let Wyatt be Wyatt. Besides, she’d gotten exactly what she wished for a few minutes earlier—the status quo, the rebalancing of their relationship to what it had been twenty-four hours before.
So why didn’t it feel as comforting as she’d assumed it would?
It was too much to think about. Jenna glanced at the time on her phone, fired off a quick thank-you text to Erin, then flicked the mouse on the computer. She needed to stay busy, to keep moving. Until the customers started coming in about an hour and a half from now, there was little to do other than finalize the previous day’s receipts, a job she hadn’t been able to get to the night before.
The email indicator flashed at the bottom of the screen, and she clicked to make sure there was nothing pressing. The first message in the list blared its subject line in all caps. READ ME FIRST, AMY.
Jenna gasped and backed away from the computer, knocking the wireless mouse to the floor.
Wyatt was at her side before she could catch her breath, his hand between her shoulder blades. “What happened?”
There wasn’t enough air to make words. Jenna couldn’t tear her eyes away from her sister’s name. Her dead sister’s name.
Tension radiated off Wyatt as he leaned closer to the screen. “Amy? Your sister?”
“Yes.”
He bent forward and retrieved the mouse, then turned to Jenna. “Do I have your permission to open it?”
She nodded as the shaking started in her chest and moved out to her fingers. Jenna wrapped her arms around her middle. She was so cold. Why would someone think Amy was alive?
Maybe it was an advertisement.
But, no. If this was spam, it was the worst, most ill-timed spam ever.
Wyatt slipped his arm around her waist and held her against his side, his warmth transferring to her, supporting her. He clicked on the email.
Thought you could hide? Not from us. There’s a cell phone attached to the back of the dumpster in the alley. Be at the location on the GPS by 10:30 this morning. Leave your cell phone on the counter. No police. If you don’t follow instructions, the offer to turn yourself over alive expires.
Wyatt’s hand slipped to the small of her back and edged her around the counter, away from the computer. “In your office. Now.” He dragged her with him, easing her in front of him so he stood between the front windows and her as they hurried across the main room to her office.
Jenna stumbled and barely caught the door frame before Wyatt crowded her into the office and around the desk. “Sit.” He stayed in the doorway, watching the two-way mirror that looked out into the main room. His mouth was a hard line, his eyes serious and professional—it was a glimpse of the police officer he was and the soldier he’d once been. His hand hovered near his hip as though he expected to draw quickly, but then he pulled out his phone and tapped out a message. He mumbled, “It’s close to eight thirty now. Two hours.”
“I don’t understand.” Jenna’s voice trembled. “Why does someone think my sister’s alive? Why would someone think I’m her?”
“There’s a different question you need to ask.” He scrubbed a hand along his jaw and turned from the window, his expression grim. “Why would someone want your sister dead?”
SIX
Jenna gasped, but Wyatt turned away. She needed a second to process, but he couldn’t give her the space, not while maintaining his position between her and danger. The best he could do was to look away and give her a bit of privacy.
He stood in the doorway to Jenna’s office and swiveled his head from side to side. Back door. Front windows.
Back door. The monitor over the door revealed an empty alley, the space immediately by the door in view but nothing else. Without a wider shot, there was no way to know if anyone lurked beyond the steps.
Front windows. Very few people on the street. Nobody passing turned to look into Jenna’s darkened store front.
But somewhere, somebody was watching.
His phone vibrated and he glanced at the screen. Forward email and all headers to me. Feds want to see. Sit tight. Getting men into position near you. Find out all you can from Jenna.
Lowering his phone, Wyatt turned to find Jenna staring at him. He’d seen the stubborn look she now wore many times when she was determined to go toe-to-toe with him over something. The last time had been right in this room, when he’d had to inform Erin that a killer had been in her house.
In spite of the situation, he nearly smiled. Jenna had accused him of lacking tact. He’d ignored her mostly because he didn’t want to admit she was right.
Now Jenna’s look of bold determination was working for him, not against him. She stood and drew back her shoulders, probably trying to make herself feel taller. Young soldiers often did the same.
“What do we do?” Her voice trembled, betraying her fear. “Don’t tell me you don’t know. You’re on your phone. You’re making plans. I said I’d help, so if you’re going to force me to go on the run, I want to know.” The last words shook worse than the first.
She didn’t want to leave. She really did love this town, these people.
It took everything he had not to close the space to her desk and sweep her against him, to make her promises he could never keep about protecting her, about making sure her home remained her home.
Instead, he ran his thumb along the screen of his phone by his thigh and kept his eyes on hers. “Hang tight. We’re not alone. T
here are officers getting into place right now. They’re not going to leave us hanging. Somebody will give us a next move soon.” He had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what the next move was going to be, and he wasn’t sure how he’d fight if “the powers that be” wanted to use Jenna as bait.
He couldn’t reveal any of his thoughts or fears to her now, though. The chief had given him an assignment. Get answers from the notoriously tight-lipped woman in front of him. Finding out all he could about her sister was job one.
Well, job two. Job one was making sure Jenna survived.
Purposely relaxing his shoulders, Wyatt pulled out the chair across the desk from her and settled in, trying to project a calm he didn’t feel. He didn’t say anything, just hoped she’d follow his lead.
For a moment, it looked as though she was going to stay on her feet glaring at him. A number of emotions crossed her face before she sank into her chair and dragged it to the desk, still eyeballing him. “You’re over there planning something. You can’t possibly be this calm.”
Wyatt threw his plans out the window. He should have known better than to try to fool Jenna. She saw through him every time, and it was clear subtle questions weren’t going to work. He would have to come at her head-on. “I need to know everything about your sister.”
The statement didn’t seem to surprise her, although she stiffened. “Amy’s dead. Nothing I say is going to change anything. All of the facts in the world won’t give you clues about why someone thinks I’m her.”
“You were twins. It’s an easy mistake.”
“Except...she’s...dead.” The assertion came through gritted teeth.
“I understand.” He slid to the edge of the wooden chair and sat forward, resting his hands on his knees. No doubt her sister’s death still made her ache. He needed to think this through. Direct didn’t have to mean indelicate.
Tact. She’d reminded him before he needed it. Neither of them had ever dreamed he’d need it with her. “I know it’s not easy to talk about, but there might be a clue you don’t see. I’ve got fresh eyes. Let me help.”
