Forgotten Sins

Chapter 10

Shane released the rope, and measured strides took him inside the house. Next to Tom’s prone body.

“Stay back, Shane.” Josie kept a steady grip on the weapon. For a tiny thing, the woman had long, sexy-as-hell legs. Shit. She was all leg. The shirt came to mid-thigh, leaving much to be appreciated. She’d painted her cute toes a deep red. The color of passion.

“I like your toes.”

Her lips tightened while her stance widened. “I don’t want to shoot you, but I will.” She glanced down at Tom before lifting her gaze. “Will he be all right?”

“Yes.” Geez. Shane wouldn’t hurt the guy trying to protect her. Well, not much anyway. “We need to go, angel. Give me the gun.” He reached out and moved toward her.

“If you ever hurt him, I’ll never forgive you.” She stepped back, raising the barrel to Shane’s face. “We’re waiting here for the police. I don’t know you. Or trust you.”

“Can’t blame you.” This was a bad idea, but he couldn’t think of another way to keep her safe.

Or maybe he didn’t want another way.

He took another step, putting her within touching distance. At this point, he didn’t trust anyone. His head ached. Something in his gut turned. Even if he was the bad guy, he needed to keep her safe. That had to make him somewhat good, right?

He shook his head. Probably not. With that realization, he gave himself over to the inevitable. Nothing would make him desert her this time. “We’re leaving, Josie. Come easy or hard, but we’re going.”

Her arms trembled. “Please don’t make me shoot you.”

“I won’t.” His hand snaked out, smacking the gun from her grasp. The weapon slammed against the wall. Sirens bellowed in the distance. Leaping forward, he grabbed her by the arms and ducked a shoulder, rising when she flopped over.

“Hey!” she yelped, kicking him in the stomach.

Pain echoed in his gut. He wrapped an arm around her thighs, turned, and ran into the night. She struggled, yet he maneuvered between trees and branches. He stopped at his makeshift bed and grabbed the sleeping bag with one hand, not missing a step.

Her entire body shifted as she sucked in air, letting out a high-pitched bellow that silenced the forest.

Damn it all to hell. He swung her around and pressed her against a tree, his hand covering her mouth. Blue eyes shot furious darts, so he leaned in close. “One chance, angel.” Vehicles screeched to a loud stop back at the house. She bit his palm. “Josie.” He pressed harder against her face. He’d kill himself if he hurt her. “We need to get out of here,” he whispered as fury rose within him. “You can work with me, or I’ll take you unconscious. But either way, we’re going.” He let every ounce of determination and threat leak into his eyes.

Her knee shot toward his testicles. Oh no, not this time. He slid his leg between hers, immobilizing her. If she needed a contest of strength to obey him, she’d get it. His jean-clad thigh pressed against her light panties. “You sure you want to fight me?” A frown narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think you’ll knock me out.”

His heart stilled. Not what he’d been expecting. Did that mean she trusted him? On some level? “You’re wrong.” He flexed his fingers. “To get you away from danger, to get you to safety, I’ll do whatever I need to do.” His fought to keep his expression blank.

She smiled. “Do it, then.” Air whooshed into her lungs, and she opened her mouth to scream.

His lips crushed hers. He captured her yell in his throat, driving the air back down hers. Then his tongue took hers, mastering it, taking what he wanted. Desire lit him on fire. His cock leapt to life, fighting against his zipper to get loose. To get in her. Now.

He was going to have her. Taste her, tame her, feel her shatter in his arms. Taking the kiss deeper, he explored, seeking answers and relief. Relief from this primal need for one small woman who looked like an angel and turned him into a devil. Deep down, if he took her, no matter what, good guy or bad guy, he knew he’d never let her go. Suddenly, he no longer cared.

Shouts echoed back at the house, yanking him back to reality. Danger surrounded them.

He lifted his head. “We don’t have time for this.” One finger slid into a tiny hole in her shirt and he tugged. Fabric ripped.

She frowned. “Hey—”

A strip of the cotton ripped free, and he flipped her around, tying her wrists together.

Her small body jumped around. She shot a kick to his knee. He grabbed another strip of shirt to shove between her teeth, tying the jagged material behind her head. Her eyes widened with surprise and then pure, raw fury.

He dipped and tossed her over his shoulder. She kicked out. A muffled “oof” escaped him. The woman had grit. She kicked again, and he turned his head, sinking his teeth into her thigh. She tasted like strawberries. “Knock it off.” He secured his arm across her legs, ensuring no more kicks.

The gag softened her response, but rage echoed in the low tone.

Grabbing his sleeping bag, he jogged into the forest toward the old logging road. A truck he’d stolen earlier in the day waited.

She continued to struggle, muffled curses leaking from behind the gag. Possibly a death threat or two.

Women. Tough to deal with. A memory filtered across his conscious. A woman’s voice. When dealing with women, undercover or otherwise, seduction was a valid technique. To gain information, to gain trust. Seduction? Shane had the uneasy feeling he’d been trained in more than hand-to-hand combat.

His arm loosened at the thought. Had he used those skills on his wife? Was she just a job to whoever he used to be? Josie aimed a hard kick to his lower belly.

Pain slammed through his abdomen. Maybe he should’ve knocked her out.

“You’re going to wish you’d knocked me out.” Josie flopped on the bed like a fish, struggling to get out of the sleeping bag. The bastard had left her hands tied and zipped her into the bag, buckling her in the seat of a large Ford for the two-hour drive. To this dive of a motel three counties over.

She kicked off the bag, not caring that her bare legs showed. “You ripped my shirt.”

Shane reached into a duffel bag and tossed one at her head. “You may borrow mine.” He pivoted, his gaze dropping to her legs, his nostrils flaring. The tension in the room rose. Two steps and he stood at the bed, turning her and quickly untying her hands before flipping her back around. “Here’s the deal. You behave. No screaming, no running, and you’ll stay untied and ungagged.” He leaned into her, both hands on the gaudy comforter on either side of her legs.

Heat cascaded off him to warm her. The room was small and intimate, and the scent of male tempted her senses. The man had carried her so easily, taking control without a thought. She breathed out, and his gaze dropped to her breasts. “Not a chance, Shane.” Her voice emerged huskier than she’d hoped. “You can’t keep me here.”

He leaned farther into her space. “Fuck with me, angel, and you’ll regret it.”

The warmth in his eyes had fled. Hard lines cut into his rugged face while a muscle pounded in his jaw. Maybe the last kick to his stomach had truly pissed him off. A shiver shook her shoulders. She didn’t know him like this. For the very first time, she wondered if she wanted to know the real Shane. “Just let me go.”

“No.” He straightened and back away. “Whatever’s going on is my fault. I brought them here… right to you.” His broad hand grabbed a gun from the second bed, and he checked the clip. “Tonight, at Marsh’s, they were coming for you. Not me, you.”

“Why?” She hated that her voice trembled.

Shane shrugged. “To get to me, I assume.” He pierced her with a hard gray gaze. “I won’t let anything happen to you. You may not trust me, but you can trust that. You’re safe.”

Safe? She was alone in a freaking motel room with a killer who’d broken her heart. How safe could that be? Even assuming he wouldn’t kill her, which frankly, she believed he wouldn’t, how could she survive staying with him? Not a chance in hell he wouldn’t kiss her again. There wasn’t a chance in hell she’d stop him. So much fire between them.

Passion was a dangerous drug.

She knew it firsthand.

She’d spent two solid years in withdrawal.

He gestured toward the bed. “Get some sleep. We move again at dawn.”

“No. You had pictures of me—from years ago.” Anger beat so much stronger through her than fear. “You said you’d give me an explanation.”

He shook his head. “I’m still figuring this out. Think logically, Josie.”

Logically? The man was going to get kicked in the head again. Even so, she needed a good explanation for the pictures. Living with fear took too much of a toll. The fear had to go. Could she be any dumber? “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t take those early pictures, it just doesn’t make sense.” He ran a rough hand through his thick hair. “Why keep them? Why leave you if I were some crazy stalker and I got you to marry me?”

She’d wondered the same thing. Hope was so freakin’ destructive. “If you didn’t take them, who did?”

“I don’t know. I assume whoever planted the other bugs in your house.” He focused on her, his gray gaze somber. “I need your trust, angel. You’re all I’ve got.”

The vulnerability from such a strong man tempted her far too much. The Shane she thought she’d known would’ve gone after anyone threatening her with a vengeance matched only by furious predators. But he had never shown her a hint of vulnerability. “What do you want from me?” Her voice came out weary. Exhaustion dragged at her limbs.

“You trusted me once.” He slipped his hands into his pockets. “Trust yourself and believe your instincts were on target with me. Give me the chance to figure this out.”

He was the only family she’d ever known. The only person she’d ever loved. How could she not give him the chance? Plus, she couldn’t escape him on her own—he was too good. Appeasing him seemed wise. “I’ll think about it.”

Triumph flashed in his eyes. “Good enough. We’ll move again tomorrow.”

She jumped to her feet, wincing as her toes dug into the rough shag carpet. Who knew what was in the ugly orange fabric? “I have to go to work. I’m in the middle of two audits.” He had to believe her. As much as she hated to admit it, she probably couldn’t get free on her own. “I like my life.” Usually. She’d missed him. So much. But work helped.

He scrubbed both hands over his face. “You’re not safe.”

“I don’t care.” She’d knocked him on his ass, hadn’t she? “I want to help you, I really do. But I’m not losing my life again because of you.” No matter what happened, he’d leave again. To pursue whatever was out there he needed to pursue. Right now that was her. But that would change.

His hands dropped. “Again?”

She breathed out. “Yes. It hurt so bad when you left, I had to leave, too. I couldn’t stay where we’d lived together, to see the places we shared.” Her voice caught. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. She was too damn tired to hide the truth.

His eyes softened. “I’m so sorry. I wish I remembered what happened.”

“What happened was that you needed more. More than me. Something else to keep you going.” He was always so driven. Looking behind them for a threat and ahead for… something. “I didn’t know you well enough. I never did.”

As his wife, she should have the answers he now needed. But she didn’t. “I can’t do it again, Shane.” Starting over would be too much. She’d given him everything, and he’d left… just like Arthur. And Claire. And Mona.

Everyone left.

She wouldn’t set herself up again. At one time, she’d thought Shane was different from the rest. So when he’d deserted her, it had hurt more than all the other times combined. Enough was enough.

The clock on the particleboard nightstand ticked into the silence. “I have a discrepancy in a couple of my accounts, they’re new, and I need to fix it.” Something in her needed to make Arthur proud. Sure, she’d never see him again, but he’d been an amazing accountant. He’d never made a mistake—at least he hadn’t until Claire’s death destroyed him—and he’d taught her a love for numbers. Plus, she had to save Billy. She hadn’t been able to help Mona, but Billy was here and now. She could help him and get that promotion she deserved.

“Please, Shane.” She held his gaze, searching for a way to convince him. “You want me to trust you, and you need to earn that. You can’t take me out of my life. I’ll fight you every step of the way, and you need to concentrate on whoever’s after you.”

Doubt had him shaking his head. “I don’t want to fight you at all.” He sucked in air, dropping to sit on the other bed. The minutes ticked by. “I can’t hide, either. Fine. I’ll take you to work and pick you up. No leaving the building. For any reason. You’ll need to tell Detective Malloy something. About why I released you.”

“I will.” She blinked to stay calm. Shane was trusting her. Not only to keep herself safe but to protect him. Hope flared hot through her. As well as caution. She needed to protect herself from having her heart broken yet again. Although the indecision in his eyes was new. “You’ve changed.”

“It’s been two years. I assume we both have.” He stretched out on the bed, closing his eyes. “Go to sleep. Morning will arrive way too soon.”

Less than a minute and his breathing evened out. She smiled as memories assailed her. He’d always fallen asleep so easily, almost as if he could control it. Almost as if he had to take rest when available.

The smile slid away.

When they’d met, they’d had a lack of family in common. She’d thought he was like her, raised in different foster homes, never quite fitting in. Then the nightmare, when he let the truth slip. He had brothers she’d never met. When she’d asked about them, Shane said they weren’t close, and that had been the end of the subject.

She should’ve pushed harder to understand him. But being alone, relying on herself, that was all she knew. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d held back. Perhaps trust earned trust. Throw two broken people together who don’t know how to live with others, and you get pain. What a disaster.

Soft light filtered through the cheap shades, caressing the hard planes of his face. So handsome. Straight nose, rugged cheekbones, and those sensuous lips. But his eyes. Magic and fire lived in their odd gray color. She still saw those in her dreams.

With his amnesia, more of his true self had emerged. The parts of him he’d hidden from her, she could finally see. Was there a chance he might let her into his life? In fact, he was even trusting her. But… what would happen when his memories came back? Would he draw away and break her heart again? Or would he stay?

He twitched. Then gave a low moan. Pain suffused the sound.

Her heart lurched. Her mind spun.

During their brief marriage, although he’d had no clue, she’d learned how to soothe his nightmares. To help him rest and get needed sleep. It was so easy and natural—and just took a soft whisper and touch. No matter who he was, she could only be herself. If he was in pain, she couldn’t sit by and watch. She didn’t want to be a person who’d sit by and watch.

An agonized growl rumbled from his chest.

Oh, this was a bad idea. She crept forward, gingerly resting one knee on his bed. Reaching his side, she snuggled down, her head on his outstretched arm. Warm cedar filled her senses. She placed her hand over his heart. “It’s okay, Shane. Only good dreams tonight,” she whispered. With a soft sigh, she closed her eyes and let darkness take over.

Shane kept his breathing even, his body relaxed. His heart thumped against her palm. Awakening, he’d heard her move from the bed and had wondered. Would she head for the door? No. She hadn’t. The woman had cuddled up with danger to provide comfort for him. Security. Love.

His heart warmed until it hurt. Vulnerability and need filtered through him, followed by determination. He didn’t know how the hell he’d lost her before. No matter what it took, no matter who he had to walk through, he wouldn’t lose her again.

A truck passed by on the interstate, and he calculated the weight load and speed. A cricket chirped outside, and he identified the species. A woman breathed deep next to him, and he measured her heart rate. With his hearing.

He knew every way to kill a person, and he could do so without hesitating. In fact, hesitating didn’t seem to be part of his makeup. What kind of a monster didn’t feel anything when he killed? People should fear monsters. So far, nothing scared him—nobody could stop him. He closed his eyes against the reality that if his memories came back, he’d be the one thing he feared.

Josie sighed next to him, and he could hear her lungs fill with air.

Jesus. Who the hell was he?