“Detective Malloy.” Josie glanced down at her bare legs. Shane grabbed a blanket off the end of the bed to drape over her. “Ah, what happened?”
“Well, Mrs. Dean, as far as we can tell, three men attacked you and your husband. Two bodies are in the guest room, and one man is on his way to the ER.”
Bodies? Nausea swirled in her gut. Shane had killed two men? So what, his body count was up to five this week? “Who were they?” Her voice cracked at the end. The men had violated her home, her sanctuary. Maybe safety didn’t exist.
Shane stiffened. “They haven’t been identified yet, angel.” He dropped his gaze to her trembling lips. “Hold on, the next ambulance should be here soon.”
“I don’t want an ambulance.” She tightened her jaw to still her lips. “I’m not going to the hospital again.” Fear made her voice tremble, and she cleared her voice.
His focus narrowed. “Why not?”
He really didn’t remember anything, or he’d never ask that question. She’d already told him about her childhood, and the story had seriously pissed him off. It was all she could do to keep him from hunting down the bastard who’d hit her. She glanced away, seeking comfort in the pretty Norman Rockwell prints of peaceful homes she’d hung on the walls. “I don’t like hospitals. Most people don’t.”
“Josie.” Low, commanding, his voice held no quarter.
They hadn’t seen one another in two years, and yet her body reacted instantly to that tone. Sexy and male, it tingled down her spine. Her gaze swung to his. Deep gray, his eyes demanded an answer, as if there weren’t cops all around them. She struggled to derail his concentration. “Who’s after you?”
He blinked twice. His hold tightened. Finally, he ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know. I’m so sorry I brought them to you.” He shook his head. “I didn’t think—”
Malloy cleared his throat. “I heard back from Pendleton, Major Dean. You retired over two years ago, with full honors.”
Confusion swirled in Josie’s brain. She’d forgotten about Malloy. “No, no, that’s not right. He stayed in the marines. I always assumed he left on a mission.” That he’d be back for her someday.
“He retired on June first two years ago, Mrs. Dean.” Malloy studied them both, the gun at his hip outlined through his cheap jacket.
Betrayal hit her like a fist in the gut. Shane had left her in August—two months
after
retiring. Where had he gone every day when he’d said he was going to work? Who the hell was her husband?
Shane exhaled. No expression showed on his battered face. “Any idea where I’ve been for two years?”
“Nope. Your commanding officer said you left without a word, just took off. Though he said you were a hero first. Saved several lives.” Malloy’s voice remained steady and without inflection. Cop voice.
Josie shook her head. She’d believed the lies. Just like a domestic violence victim. Tom might be right. Maybe she should get out of town. Hell, maybe she should take a chance on a guy who trusted her… a guy who let her in and didn’t lie. “You lied to me, Shane.” Her voice came out small, weak.
Shane exhaled. “We don’t know that, sweetheart. Let me find out what was going on. Possibly I went undercover or something.”
Her vision blurred. Perhaps the flash grenade had given her a concussion. She blinked to clear her head.
Malloy scribbled in his tattered notebook. “Mrs. Dean, please relate what happened here tonight.”
Josie took a deep breath and recalled the grenade and seeing the fight. “But it was all hazy. I didn’t understand what was going on.” Her voice trembled. She would not cry.
Shane scooped her up, blanket and all, and tugged her to his bare chest. Scars lined his angular form, knife and bullet wounds now partially camouflaged by new bruises. Heat radiated from his hard body, an oasis of warmth in the chill of the room.
She didn’t trust him, and she sure as heck shouldn’t be on his lap. But the warm illusion of safety was too tempting to fight—for now. For a moment, she needed to pretend. She wet her dry lips and let him shelter her—temporarily. “How long was I out?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
He’d killed two men in less than half an hour. She shivered and he tucked her closer. His familiar scent of heated cedar surrounded her. He’d killed. To protect her, but still, he’d ended the lives of those two men. Yeah. That scared her.
Malloy flipped his notebook closed. “You folks stay here.” He headed out of the room toward the guest room.
Shane shifted, resting her against the headboard and rising from the bed. His gaze took in the entire room, studying each corner, each nook. “What the hell is that buzzing?” He stilled and seemed to center himself in absolute concentration.
Josie frowned, the room cooling her again without his body heat near. “There’s no buzzing.” Had he been hit in the head again?
Finally, with a frown, he stalked over to the phone base on her nightstand.
“What’s going on?” Josie pulled the blanket up higher.
Shane shook his head, lifting the base and peering at the bottom. His jaw tightened. Flaring his nostrils, he yanked a round silver disc off to throw on the floor.
“What’s that?”
Shane held up a hand and grabbed her cowboy boot from the closet. Quick motions sent the heel smashing the disc into pieces. “Fucking bug.”
A bug? Someone had bugged her room? “What are you talking about?”
“They sent the grenade into the guest room. Where I was sleeping. How did they know?” Shane swept the pieces under her dresser with his bare foot. “Don’t say anything to Malloy. Something happened when I was hit… my hearing is unbelievable all of a sudden.” He stalked toward her, his eyes the swirling gray of a winter storm. “Has my hearing always been beyond the norm?”
She shrugged. “Not that I know about.” Of course, she wouldn’t know now, would she?
He gave a short nod. “Do you need a doctor?”
“No.” A shrink maybe.
“Good. Pack a bag.” He glanced at his bare chest. “Damn it. I’m sure they won’t let me get my shirt from the crime scene.”
Josie blushed, scrambling off the bed. “I, uh… may have another of your shirts in the bottom drawer of my dresser.” He didn’t comment, just tugged open the drawer and yanked on a faded Marine Corps T-shirt. “Thanks.”
She panicked and dressed quickly. If they were going to argue, she needed to be fully dressed. “I’m not leaving with you.”
Reaching into her closet, he tossed her clothes in a bag. “You’re in danger… more than I thought. You are leaving.”
He meant it. He’d try and take her, regardless of the cops in the other room. Chances were, he’d succeed. What should she do? She couldn’t trust him, but he knew how to fight and win. Why didn’t that reassure her? “The cops will shoot you.”
His shrug made him wince as he glanced down at his torso. “I’ve been shot before.”
She edged toward the hallway.
He grabbed her arm, his hold firm. “Josie, I know things are complicated. But three killers just stormed your house. You need protection, and I’m better than the cops.”
Her thoughts slugged through her mind in slow motion. Should she leave with him? What about the police? But he was right—he’d taken care of the threat. What was wrong with her? She didn’t trust him, but she couldn’t walk away. Her lungs compressed. If she didn’t go with him, would she ever see him again? Maybe not, and she couldn’t take that chance. She had to know who he was—whom she’d married. And she wanted to live. For now, he was her best bet. So many conflicting emotions ripped through her that her stomach hurt.
He led her through the hall and into the kitchen.
Malloy met them at the door. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Shane’s nostrils flared. “The hospital. The ambulance is too late, and I’m taking my wife for a checkup.”
Malloy frowned. “I’ll meet you there when we’re finished with the scene.”
Confusion hazed in Josie’s brain, but instinct pushed her to go. Quickly. She stumbled alongside Shane as he led her to the garage and lifted her into the SUV.
“Put on your seat belt.” Quick strides put him behind the vehicle, and he backed out of the garage.
“Why didn’t you tell Malloy about the bug?” She clasped her frozen hands in her lap.
Streetlights played across the dangerous angles of Shane’s face. “The detective isn’t prepared for whatever’s going on here.”
“And you are?” Okay. That did scare her.
“Yep.” He circled the block, scrutinizing the homes stirring to life with the dawn. “In your neighborhood, is there an empty house, one for sale or one with the owners on a long vacation?”
“Why?”
“Because that bug sucked. The device had a radius of a block, max.”
“How do you know the radius just from looking at the bug?”
He stilled. “I don’t know.” The vehicle slowed at the end of the block.
Josie shook her head. He knew stuff he shouldn’t and was beyond trained. Trained to kill anybody in his way. What if
she
was suddenly in his way? A chill slithered down her spine.
“Josie?”
She stiffened and pointed to a small bungalow. “That house was for sale. I mean, the sign is gone, so maybe they sold it.” She’d known he had training as a soldier, but just what kind of skills had he developed? His hearing must be truly excellent to have detected that bug under her phone. What was he really capable of? Besides hand-to-hand combat that resulted in the other guy being dead.
Shane nodded, drove around the corner, and parked next to the community gazebo. “Why don’t you like hospitals?”
For the love of Pete. She’d known he wouldn’t let it go. “I don’t think this is the time to talk about it.”
“We’re not leaving until we talk about it.” A muscle jumped in his jaw.
She’d told him her entire life story before, and yet he hadn’t told her a thing. For two months they’d shared a home, shared a bed. And she’d had no idea he was a killer. Their marriage had been a lie, one she’d jumped into wholeheartedly. She’d loved somebody that didn’t exist, and the loss of that dream pierced her breastbone with a blade sharper than she would’ve imagined.
A stranger sat next to her.
“Josie. Answer me about the hospital,” he said calmly.
She jumped. The morning pressed in. A sense of urgency had her wiggling on the seat. They couldn’t just sit there, and appeasing him right now seemed wise. “Fine. I grew up in foster care. One of the houses had a drunk who hit. He took me to the hospital, and I associate the smell of the place with, ah, pain.”
Shane’s hands tightened on the wheel, the knuckles turning white. “Have I killed him?”
“No.” Josie coughed. “Though you wanted to.”
“Still do.” Anger and pain bracketed Shane’s mouth.
Yeah. Amnesia or not, Shane was Shane. Unless it was all a trick. “It ended up being a good thing. The doctors made a report, and I went to Arthur and Claire’s to live. They were foster parents, but they planned to adopt me.” Her voice sounded wistful, even to her. When she’d fallen on her bike, she’d even felt safe at the hospital with Arthur carrying her in.
“Why didn’t they?”
“Claire died.” Josie shrugged against the wash of sadness from what could’ve been. “Embolism. One day she was there, the next day she wasn’t.” Arthur had started drinking, nearly losing his accounting business. Social services took her away again, and probably would have even if Arthur hadn’t spiraled into depression. They couldn’t let her stay with a grieving single man.
Her first chance for a normal life had been snatched away so quickly. Her second, with Shane, had disappeared as well. Maybe some people were meant to live alone. Man, that was a depressing thought.
Shane released the steering wheel. “I’m sorry.” He opened his door. “What did Claire do?”
“She was a homemaker. Arthur was an accountant. He loved numbers.” Josie squinted to see out the window. Enough with the sad memories. Life moved on. “What now?”
Shane jumped out of the vehicle. “Stay here.”
No freaking way. She could either run back to the cops, or follow Shane into the bungalow. If somebody had been bugging her house, she wanted to see who and how. She leapt from the car, swaying until she regained her balance. Quick steps had her on Shane’s heels.
“I told you to stay in the car,” he muttered, his gaze swinging to both sides of the road.
“I’m scared.” She really should feel bad about manipulating him. “I don’t want to stay alone in the car.” Plus, anyone who had ever seen a slasher movie knew the person waiting in the car always ended up dead. She went for the jugular. “Please let me stay with you.”
He faltered and then sighed. “Okay. But stay behind me.” He took her hand, hurrying around the bungalow to open the fence toward the back. The rear yard had turned brown, weeds sprouting up. The smell of decaying brush scented the air. He peered into the kitchen window. “Empty.”
Glancing around, Shane grabbed a medium-sized rock and smashed the sliding glass door near the handle. Josie cringed. A dog barked in the distance. But nobody moved.
Shane reached inside and unlocked the lever, sliding the door open and stepping inside. He looked around and motioned for her to join him. She gingerly stepped over broken glass, her heart thundering in her ears. What was she doing? This was so illegal.
The kitchen area was empty, not even a table. Quick movements sent them hustling through the unfurnished dining room. Their footsteps echoed through the dusty space until they reached the living room.
Josie’s legs froze in place.
Her eyes stared back at her from a picture on the wall. The moment captured her smiling brightly into the sun, a daiquiri in her hand. She glanced at the next picture, taken of her at a baseball game. Several more pictures of her adorned the walls. Pictures of her coming home after work. Of going to the gym. Of gardening outside her home. Months’ worth. All tacked up next to a sprawl of surveillance equipment.
Shane growled, hurrying toward the equipment. “What the hell?”
Josie frowned. Her wedding picture caught her eye. The official one in the stunning silver frame. The one she’d left for him at his base when she’d moved to Washington. Just in case he wanted the memories. It sat on the end table. She looked closer at some of the pictures. Her hair was shorter. Lighter. Some of the pictures were from California. From before she’d met Shane. From three, maybe four years ago.