Forgotten Sins sb-1 Page 2

  Shane’s head snapped up. “Brothers?”

  “Yes. You let it slip once that you had brothers.” How could he not remember anything? For a control freak like Shane, it had to be hell. “Though I have no idea who they are.”

  He exhaled in exasperation, and his gaze wandered over her face in a caress so familiar she almost sighed. “Sounds like I didn’t trust you much, blue eyes.”

  “You don’t trust anybody.” She’d given him everything she had, and it wasn’t enough. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, and she ruthlessly batted them away. He didn’t get to see her cry now. Before he’d left, there was one night when she’d thought they were getting closer, she had thought he was finally letting her in. Then he’d disappeared.

  His eyes warmed and a hint of a smile threatened. A tension of a different sort began to heat the room. Josie tugged her jacket closed as her traitorous nipples peaked. She’d forgotten his ability to shift affection into desire. Damn the man.

  Shane glanced over his bare right shoulder. “Have I always had the tattoo?”

  “Yes.” Malloy leaned for a better look. “Nice symbol. What does it mean?”

  “Freedom,” Shane murmured, rubbing his shoulder. He swiveled his head to meet Josie’s gaze, both eyebrows rising. “Right?”

  “Yes.” She swallowed. “You already had the tat when we met, and you said it meant freedom.”

  “I don’t remember getting inked, but I know what the symbol means.” Shane frowned, running his wounded hand through his hair.

  The detective cleared his throat. “So, you don’t know who’d want to attack your husband, and you haven’t seen him in two years. Ah, Mrs. Dean, you’ve built a life here, right?”

  “Yes.” A good life with roots. Sure, she was alone, but she was secure.

  The detective nodded. “Are you dating anyone?”

  Heat rose into her face even as Shane’s eyes sharpened to flint. She shook her head. “That’s none of your business, Detective.”

  Shane lifted his chin. “But I believe it is my business, angel.”

  The man always could issue an effective threat with the mildest of words. She opened her mouth to tell him to stuff it when his words hit home. “You remember. You called me ‘angel.’ ” He’d given her the nickname the first day they’d met at a small coffee shop in California.

  He shook his head, giving a slight wince and then holding still. “No. No memories. You look like an angel—big blue eyes, wispy blond hair. My angel.”

  “Not anymore.” She wouldn’t let him do this to her. It’d taken two years to deal with the past, and she couldn’t face the pain again. No matter how lost he looked, or how lonely she was. “We’re over.”

  “Who are you dating, Josie?” As usual, Shane ignored her words and narrowed his focus to what he deemed important.

  “We do need to know, Mrs. Dean,” Detective Malloy cut in before she could tell Shane to go to hell. “Just to clear the suspect list, if nothing else.”

  She sighed. “I’m not dating anybody.”

  “Someone popped into your mind,” Shane said softly. Too softly.

  Icy fingers traced her spine, and her heart rate picked up. She shrugged off the sensation. The cop narrowed his eyes. Both men waited.

  She took a deep breath, pulling calmness in. “I’m not dating anyone, but I do spend time with Tom Marsh. He’s in construction, and the last thing he’d ever do would be to mug somebody. And we’re just friends.”

  “What kind of friends?” Shane kept his focus solely on her as if the cop wasn’t in the room.

  “None of your business.” The panic that rushed through her veins ticked her off.

  He grabbed a crumpled shirt off the flattened pillow and yanked it over his head, grimacing as he tugged down the worn cotton. He pushed off the bed—toward her. “Does Marsh know you’re taken?”

  Awareness slammed into her abdomen as Shane’s unique scent of heated cedar and rough male washed over her. How could she have forgotten how big he was? How much taller than her own five-foot-two? She tilted her head to meet his eyes. “Tom knows I’m about to be divorced.”

  “You sure about that?” Shane grasped her arm, his focus on the detective. “Malloy, you have my contact information while I’m in town. I’ll be staying with my wife. Call if you hear anything.”

  The firm hand around her bicep—so warm, so familiar—sent a wave of thrilling awareness through her veins. The one touch could set her back months, maybe more. The man had always been unreal and larger than life. Wanting him had nearly destroyed her once. Never again. She sucked in a breath. “Did the doctors release you?”

  “Yes. I have a concussion, and once it’s healed, my memory should be restored. Though”—his voice dropped to a rumble—“you’ll need to awaken me every two hours tonight, darlin’.”

  The twang. That Southern twang that escaped when he was either tired or aroused—an idiosyncrasy he normally managed to camouflage. The mere sound of it ignited memories of heated nights and soft whispers from her brain straight to her core. It was an intimacy most people didn’t know about him, and learning about it made her feel special. Her mouth went dry.

  A visible tic set up underneath the detective’s left eye. “You’re not free to leave, Major Dean.”

  Shane smiled.

  The air rushed out of Josie’s lungs. She knew that smile. The detective didn’t stand a chance.

  Neither did she.

  Shane lowered his voice to a purely pleasant tone that wouldn’t fool anybody with half a brain. “Malloy, I was attacked and have cooperated with you. I unfortunately have no new information, nor am I under arrest. Thus, I’m going home with my wife. Call me if you have questions.”

  The twang was gone.

  Malloy tapped his pen. “I could hold you as a material witness.”

  “Try me.” Somehow the tone became even more pleasant.

  Josie fought a shiver.

  Malloy, to his credit, ignored the threat and turned bloodshot brown eyes on her. “Is there anyone who’d want to hurt you, Mrs. Dean?”

  Josie sucked in air. “You think he was injured because of me?”

  The detective shrugged. “I don’t know. This might’ve been a random mugging, but we need to explore all possibilities.”

  She hadn’t seen her husband in two years. No way was the mugging connected to her. “Nobody wants to hurt me. Besides, most of my friends don’t know I’m married.” Next to her, Shane stiffened, and her breath quickened in response.

  The detective nodded, his gaze taking in them both. “Are you sure you want him with you?”

  No. Though it was time to finish this. “Sure. We need to talk, and I have papers for Shane to sign. Thank you for your concern.” Not for one second did she think Shane would stay away at this point.

  “Are you sure you’re safe? He may be dangerous.” The detective appraised them both without expression. Cop face… soldier face. She’d seen it on her husband.

  “Shane’s dangerous as hell.” He’d saved her from an obnoxious jackass the first day they’d met, his combat training obvious. She allowed herself a wry grin. “But he would never hurt me.” Physically anyway.

  Malloy cleared his throat. “Major Dean, what about your safety?”

  Shane blinked twice and then chuckled. “Ah. You mean from the deadly pixie doll standing next to me?”

  “Perhaps.” Malloy’s gaze probed Josie’s eyes as he addressed Shane. “You’re estranged and she has moved on. Statistically, it’s possible the pixie hired someone to take care of you.” He smiled. “No offense, ma’am.”

  She coughed out a laugh. “None taken, Detective. Though I assure you, if I wanted Shane dead, I’d do it myself.” He’d tried to teach her some dangerous skills during their brief marriage, but she’d never had cause to use them.

  The detective’s eyes narrowed.

  Shane chuckled even deeper. “Let’s go, angel.”

  She allowed him to tug her from
the room. They passed the uniformed cop and the many rooms, Shane’s large form dwarfing her in a way she’d forgotten, in a way that made her feel safe—protected—and yet so vulnerable. The detective’s concern filtered through her thoughts. Shane was dangerous before. What if he was even more so now? Where had he been the last two years? She didn’t know him anymore. Heck, she’d never known him.

  Maybe she wasn’t so safe.

  However, as the exit doors came into view, her stride sped up in an effort to escape the hospital. For her first visit, when she was seven, she’d been brought in by a foster parent who had hurt her. The second time, when she’d turned nine, she’d been carried in by a foster parent trying to save her. Different experiences, yet the result had been the same. She’d ultimately ended up alone.

  Here she was again, leaving the hospital with someone who would soon leave. He’d abandoned her once. No matter how quickly her heart had leaped when she’d seen him again, or how lost he seemed right now, he wouldn’t stay.

  Shane wasn’t a guy who stuck around.

  He paused near the sliding glass exit doors, turning her to face him, tipping her chin up with one knuckle. The breadth of his shoulders, the narrowness of his waist, the strength bunched along his muscles promised power and danger. Warmth and the masculine scent of heated cedar wafted her way. “So, wife. Have you slept with this boyfriend of yours?”

  Chapter 2

  His wife’s small bicep tightened in his grasp, and those incredible eyes darkened to violet, betraying her intent to step back. Shane grasped her chin to hold her in place, searching for an answer he wasn’t sure he deserved.

  She gave him a glare, and a light blush stole cross her fine cheekbones but didn’t reach the pert nose he had the oddest urge to kiss. “My sex life is none of your business.”

  His eyelids lowered. “Ah, darlin’,” he breathed out, “we both know that’s not true.” He raised his hand from her chin to slide his thumb over her full bottom lip and pricked with pleasure as she drew a sharp breath. His brain may not remember her, but his body thrummed with the need to draw the blood of any man who’d dared touch her.

  As they paused at the glass doors of the hospital in the day’s dusk, Shane cataloged the quiet streetscape. Thirty-five vehicles sat in the lot, and three businesses lined the other street: one selling food, one a pawn shop with possible weapons, and one a mom-and-pop convenience store. There was a good probability the store had a shotgun near the register. A row of apartments stood above the businesses, probably three. Statistically, at least one residence might have a weapon.

  How did he know that? Sudden claustrophobia had him struggling to appear normal, even while he tilted his head to hear… something. Anything. But all sounds arrived muffled, as if his head were under water.

  So he concentrated on the soft skin beneath his rough hand. Josie had a classic face, well-defined cheekbones, and delicate features. Yet her chin held a stubbornness that intrigued as much as it challenged him.

  Josie’s teeth ground together. “I don’t know how badly you’re hurt, but if you don’t release me, I’m going to kick your ass.”

  His quick smile felt rusty, as if the muscles hadn’t been used in far too long. Two years maybe—since she left him?

  With a shrug, he let go, straightened, and stepped back. Every slight movement dug sharp needles into his skull. Lights flashed behind his eyes from the pain. “I need to know. Are you scared of me?” He didn’t know himself. Would he hurt her? The idea that he’d harm such a tiny, defenseless woman was like a punch to the gut. Who the hell was he?

  She arched one delicate eyebrow. “If you’re asking if you abuse women, the answer is no. If you’re asking if you’re an asshole, the answer is yes.”

  He huffed a laugh, barely holding back a wince as his eyes sparked agony. “I appreciate your honesty.”

  “Anytime.” She tossed a thick blond strand over her shoulder and shoved open the exit door to the cool night air. “You might as well come on.”

  He paused at her statement, taking a moment to appreciate her tight body in the soft gray pantsuit. The woman had an ass he’d love to sink his hands into. The flash of lust rolled through him followed by unease. He’d just scared her, pretty much threatened her about the boyfriend, and now he wanted her naked. After a brief marriage, he’d abandoned her. What if he hadn’t had a good reason? Was there a good reason to leave his woman unprotected? Probably not.

  Following her out, he quickly caught up to her, his gaze raking the sprawling parking lot. Quiet, peaceful, and nicely lit in the cold evening. Pine and the hint of snow wafted on the breeze. “You’re taking me home, angel?” He figured he’d have to cajole to end up at her place. He needed to crawl into a hole until his head stopped pounding, and then he’d figure out who’d jumped him.

  Darkness and peace seemed more important than safety right now.

  She sighed, yanking keys out of a monstrous purse and striding in pointy shoes toward the center of the lot. “Like it or not, you’re my responsibility right now. At least until you sign the papers.” She halted and flipped around so abruptly he had to catch her arms to keep from running her over. Her gaze met his. “Unless you’re full of shit. Amnesia? Seriously?”

  She felt good under his palms. Ignoring the migraine, he stepped into her, truly enjoying the flare of awareness and then irritation filtering across her stunning face. “Have I ever lied to you?” The question held risk, considering he had no clue if he had lied or not.

  Anger slammed the irritation out of the way, narrowing her eyes. “No. You just didn’t tell me anything.”

  Oh, but he’d hurt her. The set of her shoulders, the line of her lips, told him he’d caused her pain. What kind of an ass was he to hurt such a soft little thing? “I’m sorry.”

  She blinked three times and took a step back. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “I think it does. Whatever mistakes I’ve made, I’m sorry.” She was so tiny, her head didn’t come close to the bottom of his chin. Maybe he should take off by himself right away—leave her the life she’d built over the last two years.

  But he didn’t want to. There was warmth buried in the woman, and he was so damn cold. She’d loved him once. Maybe she could explain why.

  A humming set up at the base of his skull. He lifted his head to scout the parking lot, its quiet abundance of SUVs providing no answers. Someone was watching, though—of that he was sure.

  The headache disappeared, shoved somewhere to be dealt with later. Awareness filtered through his brain that he shouldn’t be able to do that. His heartbeat slowed. His breathing calmed. He tucked Josie into his side, ignoring the pain of her shoulder meeting his bruised ribs, hurrying them both deeper into the lot. A cool breeze stung his face, and a van across the street caught his attention. Yep. “Where’s your car?”

  The woman failed to shrug away his protective arm. “Right here.” She pointed a key fob at a black Toyota Highlander, its beep echoing through the silent area as it unlocked the doors.

  Adrenaline flooded his system, somehow calming him more. That wasn’t natural. Should he be more scared of himself than his attackers? “You should’ve parked under a light.”

  “Don’t lecture me.”

  “Then you should be more careful.” He had a feeling he’d said those words to her before. Shoving speculation away, he opened the driver’s door, and she climbed inside. He followed, grasping her slender waist and lifting her over the center console, setting his own butt in the seat. Doubt tried to crowd his instincts, but his movements were graceful and trained—his muscles worked quickly as if separate from his brain. Pain began to well behind his eyes, and he shoved it away.

  Josie tried to bound out of her seat. “Hey—”

  “I’m driving.” He pressed on the brake pedal and pushed the keyless ignition button. Panic swirled in his abdomen, so he focused hard and fast, surrounding himself with calmness. Interesting trick, that. “Fasten your seat belt.”

&
nbsp; “No—”

  “Now.” He lowered his voice to pure command, cutting a gaze at her that even felt hard.

  She arched her brows in surprise. With a huff, she rolled her eyes and yanked on the belt. Nope. Definitely not afraid of him.

  For the first time since he’d regained consciousness, his body felt familiar. Calm, purposeful, alert. A threat existed in the blue van. He chose not to question his certainty of the fact. Not right now anyway. The vehicle sat across from the parking lot’s one exit as if waiting patiently, away from any lights. He glanced in the rearview mirror to the entrance on the opposite side. Perfect.

  Sure movements had the SUV backed out and maneuvered around the rows of cars toward the exit. Pressing hard against the accelerator, he hit reverse through the entrance with a screech of tires.

  “What the—” Josie hissed, clutching both hands at the dash as the attendant at the entrance jumped out of his booth, arms waving in the air.

  Shane whipped the Toyota around and into traffic, pressing on the accelerator and zipping around several cars before yanking the wheel and shooting the car into an alley he followed for several blocks.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Josie yelled.

  He raised an eyebrow, sliding into a one-way street heading away from the hospital. “You have quite the mouth on you, don’t you, angel?”

  “Oh God, you’re crazy. You’re concussed. No way should you be driving.”

  He glanced in the rearview mirror. All clear. Doubt choked in his throat. Maybe he was crazy. Regardless, he didn’t feel the threat any longer. “Sorry. I just wanted to play a bit.” Realization dawned. He had no intention of telling her about the threat. Interesting. Either he didn’t trust her—or instinct dictated he protect her. Regardless, he chose to experiment, to judge her reaction. He cleared his throat. “There were men in a van across from the hospital waiting for one of us. I sensed danger.”

  Her head turned in slow motion toward him. “What?”

  “You heard me.” He kept his gaze on the road as they passed quiet storefronts, studying her out of his peripheral vision. The vein in her neck fluttered as her heartbeat sped up. Her breath hitched, and the scent of wild berries wafted from her. What kind of a soldier was he to have this kind of training? Such overdeveloped senses? Dread settled in his gut.