Mistaken Twin

by Jodie Bailey

  The front door and windows burned higher and hotter than the rest of the room, nearly obliterated by the flames.

  “Accelerant. Someone wanted our escape routes cut off.” Wyatt dragged her backward into the office and shut the door behind them, holding his phone to his ear as he looked around the room. “Find anything. Anything you can to shove under the door. Fast.”

  Jenna’s heart raced. He’d dragged her to the center of the building. No exits. No way out. Fire on either side of them. After all she’d been through, she was going to die today in a way her worst nightmares had never even dared to imagine, in a blaze of pain at the hands of an unseen enemy.

  The roaring in her ears grew louder than the roar of the fire. Wyatt’s voice, low and steady, crept through the noise. He was on the phone with Dispatch, giving their location, their situation.

  Surely 911 was being inundated with calls other than Wyatt’s, but would help arrive in time?

  Jenna turned toward the two-way mirror and stared out into her shop. Smoke rolled to the ceiling and down along the walls in sickening waves. Fire licked at easels, canvases. Flames sought what they could consume and went to work, slowly devouring her life. Her work. Her life.

  “Jenna!” Wyatt’s bark jerked her out of her panic. “The door. Get something under the door. Now!”

  She scanned the room, eyes lighting on a new box of aprons the post office had delivered two days earlier, still waiting to be embroidered with the shop’s logo.

  The shop was rapidly burning into oblivion as she stood helpless to stop it.

  She’d already lost everything. How much more could they take from her? Her chest and throat aching, Jenna pried open the box and shoved the material between the floor and the bottom of the door, praying, praying, praying. Lord, please. Please get us out of this. Please.

  She stood and backed away from the door, staring at the floor, waiting for the smoke to consume them. They’d die from smoke inhalation before the fire ever reached them, a blessing and a curse.

  She should have taken Wyatt’s hand earlier instead of leaving him standing there, his heart in his palm. When he offered his hand to her, she should have risked it, should have taken the chance. She would have...had she known it was the last thing she’d ever do.

  If they survived this, she would... Unless he’d changed his mind.

  A strong arm wrapped around her waist, holding her against an even stronger chest as Wyatt turned her away from the door, once again putting himself closest to the threat. He was silent, though he still held the phone to his ear and the dispatcher’s words leaked through the speaker, too low to be discernible, but solid and soothing nonetheless.

  Wyatt tipped his head forward, his lips brushing her ear, the low whisper warm against her skin. “Fire department’s already dispatched. They’re a couple of minutes away. We’ll get through this. Hang on.”

  Jenna nodded once. The room was growing hotter. Outside, red-tinged smoke completely filled the front room. It wouldn’t be long before the heat shattered the mirror standing as the last line of defense between them and the flames. Once the mirror was gone, the smoke would overtake them and it would be too late.

  It might already be too late. Mountain Springs had a volunteer fire department with only one full-time firefighter on duty at any given time. Assembling the firefighters could take a while.

  “It only takes one truck and one hose to get us out of here.” It was as though Wyatt had read her thoughts. His arm around her waist tightened, and he laid his cheek against the back of her head. “We’re going to get out of here. I promise.”

  It was a vow he couldn’t possibly keep. Somehow, though, it leaked peace into her muscles, relaxed her against his chest. Lord, let it be true. Let help get here in time.

  But if they didn’t. If today was the day she truly lost everything but her salvation...

  Sweat trickled down her spine as the room heated even more, as the fire popped and cracked and roared louder than ever in the front room, drowning out all of her senses.

  Wyatt’s chest moved, his breathing hard. He had to be as terrified as she was, but he never let it show.

  And he never let her go.

  All she had to do was turn her head a few inches, meet him where he’d invited her last night and again this evening. Into a kiss, a moment that would pour out the feelings she was desperately trying to unravel before everything was gone.

  Her ears roared with a combination of her heartbeat and the fire and a new sound, a whine that rose and fell as it grew closer...

  Sirens.

  Wyatt relaxed, letting his cheek slide next to hers. “We’re going to make it. I unlocked the door so they could get in.” His lips brushed her hair, his voice low and husky as the smell of smoke intensified. “Hang on.”

  Her eyes slipped closed. Her head turned toward him. She should say something. Tell him—

  A crash jerked her into reality. Wyatt’s arm slipped from her waist and he whipped around toward the office door, one hand reaching behind him to find hers.

  The office door burst open and a firefighter pushed through with a cloud of smoke, gear hiding the face although the eyes were familiar...

  Erin.

  Jenna nearly wilted at the sight of Wyatt’s cousin and her best friend. Wyatt’s hand was the sole thing giving her strength as Erin moved aside and aimed a finger out the door. “Fire at the rear’s out. Let’s go.”

  Wyatt led the way, tugging Jenna with him, Erin bringing up the rear as the window in the office exploded.

  Jenna hesitated. Her life. She was leaving everything she had left of her life behind.

  Wyatt urged her forward and shouted over his shoulder, “Don’t look back, Jen. Keep moving. Trust me.”

  She stumbled out the door behind Wyatt, gulping fresh air until he drew her into his arms and held her head against his chest, his heart pounding against her ear. Don’t look back.

  Staring at the floor, Jenna let the tears leak out. Everything was gone. Everything.

  Trust in Wyatt might be the only thing she had left.

  * * *

  Wyatt stood at the front window of Jenna’s apartment and stared up the street. Red and white fire engine lights cut through the thick black smoke roiling from the building where her livelihood, her joy, had been. The fire was mostly out, but the lights flashed on as firefighters searched for hot spots and doused what was left of the flames.

  Gripping the window ledge, Wyatt scanned the street below. Officer Mike Owens had pulled his cruiser as close as possible to the stairs leading to Jenna’s apartment, and he stood guard over the entrance, moving aside to let Officers Isaac Hayes and Brian Early make their way up the stairs. They probably had news. Three more officers and two federal agents had stationed themselves around the block, keeping an eye on the building and on the bystanders taking in the excitement at Jenna’s shop.

  Behind him at the window in the small living room, Alex “Rich” Richardson stood vigil, watching the alley below. A battle buddy of Erin’s fiancé, Jason, Rich had arrived at the shop while they were still being checked out by paramedics. A close friend and a Special Forces soldier who’d done more than his share of tours overseas—there was no one else Wyatt would rather have partnered with him in this moment.

  Wyatt reached over and unlocked the door, then opened it for Early and Hayes, who slipped in and shut it behind them. If Chief Thompson had withdrawn them from the perimeter and sent them in person, it must have been important. “What’s going on?”

  Early surveyed the apartment, a grim look darkening his expression. He wouldn’t meet Wyatt’s eyes but looked to Hayes to deliver whatever blow was coming.

  Hayes took the lead. “Chief sent me to let you know to watch what you say on the radio or the phones. The federal team is concerned about communications being compromised after they found Jenna at Ch
rista’s.”

  Wyatt drummed his fingers on his thigh. “They think we’ve been tapped? What are the odds somebody tailed us out there?”

  “Pretty low.”

  Great. Now communications were possibly compromised. Someone was coming after Jenna with some serious firepower. The possibilities kept getting bigger. They had four men in custody already. How big was this crew? And who did they work for?

  “How soon before we move again?” Early finally spoke. “The chief and the federal team are both getting antsy with Jenna out in the open and so close to the action.”

  “When we move is their call.” If the decision was Wyatt’s to make, they’d already be gone. “There’s too much chaos downstairs now to try to get her out of here. It would be too easy for someone to slip in and follow us or, worse, make a move in the middle of the crowd.” After today, it was clear that collateral damage wasn’t an issue to whoever was trying to get to Jenna.

  Early nodded. “Understandable.” He elbowed Hayes and aimed a finger at the door. “We’re out. We have to get to our posts but we’ll check in again.”

  When they let themselves out, Wyatt locked the door then surveyed the crowds on the street, pausing on each and every person clogging the sidewalk by the barriers erected to protect the firefighters as the blaze was brought into submission. One of them was likely the torch who’d started the whole thing. Arsonists tended to enjoy watching their work.

  Chief Thompson had been texting information to Wyatt, though he’d likely stop now that the federal team was suspicious of their tech. The chief had kept Wyatt apprised of what they learned as they learned it. So far, all of their information amounted to a huge bag of nothing. A handful of eyewitnesses reported seeing a man in jeans and a dark green or black hoodie heft something through the front window seconds before the fire started. He’d darted around the corner, likely where he had a getaway car stashed.

  Wyatt had known Jenna was still in danger. No one had listened.

  Now Jenna was in her room with Erin, who’d arrived per Chief Thompson’s request after the fire had been largely contained. The Feds had deemed this the quickest place to safely stash Jenna while the crowds gathered below. It was close and relatively easy to defend...as long as no one set it on fire.

  Erin had brought the news that the brick exterior of the building had withstood the fire, but the inside was a disaster. Since she’d arrived, she’d been with Jenna, offering comfort Wyatt couldn’t and shouldn’t be trying to dish out himself. “I messed up.”

  “Messed up how?”

  He’d forgotten Rich was in the room. He glanced over his shoulder, but Rich was still watching the window, not looking at him. Wyatt returned to his perusal of the crowd, guilt driving him to search for the man who’d tried to take both of them out this evening. “I should have been watching.”

  “From what I understand, you were.”

  “Not well enough.” Obviously. He’d been too worried about staying out of Jenna’s way... Too focused on his feelings and the way he’d nearly kissed her the night before... He hadn’t been doing his job. Instead of hiding out in her office trying to prevent her from being uncomfortable, he should have been on the move, checking the perimeter of the building, keeping a closer eye on the street. He should have been visible. Should have insisted to Chief Thompson and Agent Nance that his gut was right and they needed more eyes on Jenna.

  Better yet, he should have insisted Jenna move to a safe house somewhere out of town, even though she would have fought it. If he had, the incident at her shop never would have happened. “I let someone start a fire literally a dozen feet away from me outside her door. I missed the guy coming at us from the front because I was too focused on...” Focused on Jenna. He’d been focused on her. On the way her auburn hair waved to her shoulders. On the way her green eyes were looking at him in her office and on the memory of the way they’d looked at him the night before. On how she made him feel. On too many things other than keeping her safe.

  Behind him, Rich heaved a loud breath and kept his silence for all of thirty seconds. “You care about her.” His voice was deep, a low rumble punctuating the words.

  Wyatt didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. His silence would say more than enough.

  “Take yourself off of her case, Stephens. If you care anything about her at all, back off.”

  Wyatt’s head jerked at the ferocity of Rich’s tone. He pivoted on one heel to stare at his friend, who never turned his attention from his surveillance of the alley below. All he got was a full view of the back of Rich’s military-short dark hair.

  Back off from protecting Jenna? Let someone else be by her side 24/7? It would kill him. He wouldn’t be able to sleep wondering if she was okay. He’d constantly be radioing whoever had the detail, checking on her. Who would he trust enough to let them watch her? Who could do it better than him?

  After today, it was clear the answer to the question was “any other person on the planet.”

  Still, he couldn’t leave her. Not now. Not when he’d made a promise to protect her. “I can’t leave her.”

  Rich nodded, his jaw tight, a grim understanding passing between them. “Then you have to forget everything you feel for her. Swallow it. Kill it. Let it die.”

  Wyatt’s eyes turned toward the rear of the small apartment, where Jenna remained behind closed doors with Erin. He’d thought the same thing himself, but to hear it so bluntly from someone else...

  “If you don’t come at this with your head fully in the game, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” Rich’s tone was low, heavy with grief, and it tugged at Wyatt’s soul.

  This wasn’t about Jenna. It was about Amber. A handful of days after Rich and Amber Ransom had announced their engagement, she was dead, murdered by a vindictive spouse who blamed Rich and Jason’s team for the death of her husband overseas. The same woman who had nearly succeeded in her attempts to kill Erin. “You did what you could for her, Rich.”

  “I was cocky, like you are right now. I thought I was the only one who could protect her, so I didn’t make her go into hiding. I didn’t trust anyone else. I didn’t take her onto post and let more people help. I was her fiancé. I was supposed to be the one to protect her for the rest of her life. I failed her. She’s dead because I failed her.” Before Wyatt could argue, Rich spun and caught his gaze with a fierce gray-eyed look burning with anger and grief. “Don’t be so busy trying to be Jenna’s hero and protector that you miss something and let her get killed.”

  Wyatt couldn’t even blink. Rich’s pain rooted him to the floor, his head spinning with options, with truth, with decisions.

  The door to Jenna’s bedroom opened and Erin exited with Jenna right behind her. Her auburn hair was dark, damp from a recent shower. With her face scrubbed free of what little makeup she normally wore and her eyes rimmed pink with tears, she was more vulnerable than Wyatt had ever seen her. He wanted to turn his back completely on the window he was supposed to be monitoring and stride across the space between them, pull her against him the way he had at the store and let her heart beat against his, reassurance they were both still alive.

  He had taken two steps toward her, lost in the need to be next to her, when he felt Rich watching him.

  One look at Rich’s expression, torn in fresh grief even all these months later, stopped Wyatt where he stood, freezing his feet to the floor.

  The truth had never been clearer. He either had to step away from Jenna physically and let someone else be her defender...or he had to rip his heart away from her.

  Either way, the decision he was about to make could destroy them both.

  ELEVEN

  Jenna wrapped her fingers around the warm coffee mug Erin had filled and leaned forward, resting her forearms on the granite counter in her kitchen. The column standing at the end of the bar to separate the kitchen from the living area was wide
enough to block the front window and the lights alternating red and white in the glass, a vivid reminder of everything she had lost.

  It was also wide enough to keep Wyatt from her sight.

  She needed to get out of this apartment. After the invasion a couple of nights ago, her home no longer felt safe. It had been violated. Her store had been torched. Wyatt stood silent guard at her front window, while another man she’d met only a few times before stood watch over the alley. She no longer had the luxury of curling into a ball and shutting out the world—to “turtle” as Amy had once called it—because the world had ripped off her shell.

  There had to be a place she could run, somewhere she could settle in and feel safe again.

  For a few minutes earlier today, she’d thought her safe place would be wherever Wyatt was.

  Jenna pressed her fingers tighter against the ceramic mug, running her thumb along a ridge in the glaze. For almost an hour, she’d taken refuge in her bedroom, muffling sobs she didn’t want to pour out into her pillow, alternately praying no one would hear and hoping Wyatt would come in to comfort her and hold her the way he had before.

  After Erin and her fellow firefighters had led Wyatt and Jenna a safe distance away from the building, the paramedics had checked them both out, suggesting they go to the hospital to make sure there had been no smoke inhalation. Both she and Wyatt had declined. She wouldn’t feel safe there. He insisted she needed to be somewhere sheltered. But the entire time he’d been beside her, his hand wrapped around hers, supporting her, saying things silently that neither of them could say out loud. Not yet.

  The grip on her hand had felt like a silent promise, a continuation of what had begun before the fire tore them apart.

  But he hadn’t come for her as she’d cried. She needed Wyatt. After a shower to wash the smoke from her hair and skin, she’d finally found the courage to seek him out. And he’d almost come to her. Almost.