Magnum Force Man

Amanda Stevens

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Copyright

About the Author

AMANDA STEVENS is the best-selling author of over thirty novels of romantic suspense. In addition to being a Romance Writers of America RITA finalist, she is also the recipient of awards in Career Achievement in Romantic/Mystery and Career Achievement in Romantic/Suspense from Romantic Times magazine. She currently resides in Texas. To find out more about past, present and future projects, please visit her website at www.amandastevens.com.

Chapter One

He knew three things. His name was Jack Maddox. There was somewhere urgent he needed to be. And the woman had to be saved.

Beyond that, he only felt. The icy rain pricking his face. The heaviness of his fatigued muscles. The pervasive fear that chilled him to the bone. Not so much for himself, but for the woman.

Whoever she was. Wherever she was.

He had to find her before they did.

Whoever they were.

His sodden clothing was like a lead weight as he stumbled through the dripping forest. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep going. He needed rest, food, sleep. It seemed as if he’d been running forever. Running from something and to someone.

But who? Who?

Keep going. Don’t stop until you get there. You’ll know it when you see it. You’ll know her.

The picture in his mind was that of a tall, slender brunette with wide, knowing eyes. But it was only a vague impression. Her features were indistinct because his mental photograph kept changing. The one thing that remained the same, however, was the aura of danger that surrounded her. If he didn’t find her in time, they would kill her. Whoever they were.

He slowed for a moment to catch his breath, and that was a mistake because exhaustion swooped down like a vulture, picking away at the last of his resolve. He could lie down right there in the freezing rain and fall asleep. Maybe sleep forever.

The temptation was a little too seductive so he forced himself to push on.

But in that brief respite, he’d allowed other images to seep into his numb brain. Dark, endless passageways. Metal bars blocking every exit. The sting of a thousand needles.

As the hazy memories bombarded him, he tripped and fell to one knee, then sprang up with a renewed sense of purpose. He would never go back there. Never.

Wherever there was.

He had no idea how long he’d been on the run, but judging by his fear and urgency, freedom was a new experience. So new that when a thunderbolt cracked overhead, he flinched and ducked, then braced himself for the red-hot sear of a bullet ripping through his flesh. Instead, he smelled burning wood and ozone where lightning had struck a nearby tree.

He kept moving.

On and on through the woods until up ahead, in a flash of lightning, he saw the glimmer of wet pavement. He’d found the road. He had no real recollection of it, but he recognized it just the same. He also knew that he’d never physically been there before.

Winding like a silver ribbon through the craggy hills, the glistening pavement beckoned. With an almost hypnotic obedience, he came out of the trees and stood gazing in first one direction, then the other.

Which way?

Over the pounding rain and roaring thunder, another sound penetrated. A car engine coming up on his left.

He turned his head to watch the road as he huddled inside his wet clothing. He was so cold. He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t been chilled. He could barely even imagine what it must be like to feel warm and safe. Had he ever experienced either of those things?

Had he ever experienced … anything?

He felt curiously empty. Blank, like a chalkboard that had been erased, leaving only faint traces of what had been there before. And even those blurred markings would soon disappear as new information was imprinted upon the surface.

Had his memory been erased? Had new information been imprinted over the images of his past? Was that why everything in his mind was so muddled?

What about the woman? Did she even exist outside his head?

She had to exist because at that moment she seemed to be his only reason for being.

The hum of the engine grew louder and now he could see a faint glow from the headlights, but the vehicle was still hidden by a sharp curve in the road.

He waited.

Some instinct told him he should step away from the shoulder, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. He was glued to that very spot by destiny, fate or perhaps by something he didn’t yet understand. All he knew was that he could not have moved if his life depended on it.

Rain slashed across his face as the drum rolls of thunder drew nearer. Like a celestial portent, streamers of lightning exploded across the midnight blue sky, and the wind in the trees behind him began to howl. The night was wet, cold, electric. And yet something inside him had gone still and pensive, his senses on hyperalert, as if waiting for a silent command, an unheard voice assuring him that all would be well.

“Where are you?” he whispered to the wind.

No answer. No command. No warning. No anything. He was on his own.

The vehicle rounded the curve, and suddenly the cold and fear vanished, overridden by a keen sense of excitement and a certainty of what he now had to do.

As the headlights cut a swath through the blurry darkness, he walked into the middle of the road and turning, put up his hands to halt the oncoming vehicle.

Chapter Two

The road was a narrow tunnel carved between two black walls of spruce and cedar. Even on clear nights, the light was all but shut out by the overhanging branches, limiting visibility to the reach of the high beams. Tonight, except for the flashes of lightning that penetrated the evergreen canopy, it was like motoring through a deep canyon.

Even so, Claudia Reynolds wasn’t particularly concerned. She’d driven under much poorer conditions and there wasn’t another soul on the road. In another twenty minutes, she’d be home, safe and sound, sipping a cup of tea in front of a toasty fire—

The shadow that darted onto the road in front of her took her by surprise, and she reacted on pure instinct. Her foot came down hard on the brake pedal as she swallowed a scream. The car went into a mad skid as the rear careened wildly.

For what seemed an eternity, Claudia pumped the brakes and fought the wheel as the vehicle skated uncontrollably across the wet pavement toward the row of trees at the shoulder.

Somehow she got the vehicle straightened and stopped, and in the silent aftermath of near catastrophe, her heartbeat sounded as loud as the thunder.

She sat for a moment, still gripping the wheel, paralyzed with dread as her racing pulse kept time with the windshield wipers. Had she hit him?

No! She couldn’t have. There would have been an impact.

Oh, God, maybe there had been an impact. Maybe in all the excitement, she hadn’t noticed. Or maybe she just didn’t want to believe it.

She closed her eyes and drew a shuddering breath as she sat there listening to the tick of the cooling engine. She would have to get out and look.

Her heart dropped to her stomach because it was the exact scenario that would have had her screaming at the ill-fated characters in the scary movies she used to devour. Now that her own life had become such a horror show, Claudia didn’t enjoy the classic slasher flicks nearly as much as she once had.

She could almost hear herself yelling at the hapless heroine: Don’t get out of the car, you idiot! He’s only pretending to be hurt!

For all she knew, he could be one of them. The men who hunted her so ruthlessly.

Claudia knew only one by sight, the sadist who had brutally tortured and murdered her mentor in Chicago two years ago. She’d caught nothing more than a glimpse of his face a split second before the elevator doors closed, but his red hair, so incongruent with such a dark visage, and those cold, soulless eyes still haunted her sleep.

That nameless killer and the covert organization he worked for were the reasons she’d fled her home in the middle of the night and sought refuge deep in the heart of the Black Hills of South Dakota.

On good days, she almost managed to forget they were still out there somewhere looking for her, but then something like this would bring it back and she would be reminded all over again of their evil objective. She would be bombarded by the images of their brutality and the gruesome knowledge of how horribly Dr. Lasher had suffered before he died. How she would suffer if they ever found her.

What if the man in the road had been sent by that deadly cabal to find her? What if his intent was to torture her for information and then kill her? After all her meticulous preparations, she’d be a fool to fall into such an obvious trap.

Why, oh why had he run out in front of her like that? Hadn’t he seen her headlights?

Leave him! Just drive away and don’t look back!

But what if he was just an unlucky motorist whose car had broken down in the middle of a storm and he’d been trying to flag her down for assistance? Maybe he was hurt or sick and that was why he’d acted so erratically.

Not your problem. What kind of lunatic would deliberately step in front of an oncoming car, especially at night in a hard, driving rain?

The dangerous kind, Claudia’s brain kept insisting.

All of this flashed through her head in the space of a heartbeat. Already she was reaching for her bag.

First, she checked her cell phone even though she knew she wouldn’t get a signal. She rarely got one so far from town, which was why she’d also had a land line installed in the cabin.

Next, she grabbed a flashlight from the glove box and removed the small Ruger she kept hidden beneath her front seat.

As she felt the weight of the stainless-steel revolver in her hand, she registered the irony even as she expertly checked the chamber. She’d always hated guns. Even in her dangerous neighborhood back in Chicago, she’d never once contemplated arming herself because the gun culture mentality was abhorrent to her.

But finding Dr. Lasher’s mutilated body had changed and toughened her after she’d had time to get over the shock. She’d been forced to open her eyes to the brutal reality of her situation. On the run, she’d quickly come to the realization that if she were to survive, she’d have to learn to take care of herself because she had no one else in her life who could protect her. No one.

Her keenly hewn survival instinct should have kept her at home this night, but when she’d left the house earlier, the dark clouds hovering over the hills had still seemed a long way off. With supplies running low and a bad case of cabin fever, she’d ignored the warnings, braved the weather and driven into Rapid City where she’d seen a movie, had an early dinner and stocked up on enough groceries to last her a couple of weeks.

As she’d driven out of town, the storm still hadn’t unduly concerned her. Her small SUV had four-wheel drive, the road to the cabin was in good shape and her night vision was excellent. Nothing at all to worry about except for a man running out into the middle of the road in front of her.

Bracing herself, Claudia opened the door and climbed out, then went wide so that she would have a clear view of the front of the vehicle. She could see the silent form in front of the headlights. He lay right beneath her left bumper. And he wasn’t moving. At all.

Rain pummeled her face as she eased toward him. Tightening her fingers around the grip of the revolver, she stood over him for a moment, gathering her courage before kneeling beside him to check for a pulse. He was alive. Unconscious but most definitely alive.

She ran the flashlight beam over him. She couldn’t tell if he’d been hit, but she saw no evidence of gushing wounds or broken limbs. Thank goodness for that. Still, there could be internal injuries or a head wound that might not reveal itself until later … until it was too late.

Shuddering at the possibilities, she bent lower. His wet face was turned toward her and she could see raindrops shimmering on his lashes and in his dark hair. He looked young, probably not much older than her own twenty-four years. His angular face was shadowed but unlined, and Claudia found something heart-tuggingly innocent about his features, about his present vulnerability.

Tearing her gaze from the unconscious man, she rose and glanced around. They were miles from anywhere. What on earth was she supposed to do with him?

She wouldn’t be able to call the police or an ambulance until she got back to the cabin, and maybe not even then if the storm had knocked out the phone lines. It could be hours or even days before service was restored. She could go for help, but with the temperature dropping, he might freeze to death before she made it back.

Pulling her parka tightly around her, she shifted indecisively in the cold rain. She hated to admit it, but there really was only one thing she could do. She had to drive him back to Rapid City. Self-preservation had consumed her for two whole years, but even she wasn’t single-minded enough to leave an unconscious man stranded in a rainstorm.

Yet when she thought about the trail of gore that had led her to Dr. Lasher’s mutilated body in the lab, her heart started to flail even harder. She didn’t like this setup. It seemed too staged. Like an ambush.

That notion caused her to glance around anxiously, her eyes peering through the wet darkness for any sign of movement as she listened for the slightest sound. But all was quiet except for the rain pelting the pavement and the hood of the car. And the stranger’s face. She needed to get him inside. He was already drenched. If he didn’t die of exposure or internal injuries, he might succumb to pneumonia.

Hurrying back around to the door, Claudia climbed inside the SUV and rummaged in the glove box yet again, this time for a roll of duct tape. It was on every survivalist’s short list, and she’d made sure to stock up when she first moved to the woods.

Returning to the unconscious man, she slipped the revolver into her coat pocket, then secured his wrists and ankles with the tape.

Mindful of any possible injuries, she took as much care as she could in moving him, but a certain amount of manhandling was necessary just to get him around to the door.

The old Claudia had been something of a couch potato, but Fugitive Claudia followed a strenuous workout routine to keep in peak form. Despite her fitness and the man’s lean frame, however, dragging an unconscious body in a freezing downpour was not exactly a piece of cake.

After several minutes of pushing and prodding and hoisting, she finally managed to get him inside the vehicle. Winded, she climbed over the back of the seat and got behind the wheel. She was shivering so badly she took a moment to compose herself as she turned up the heat and put the gun within easy reach.

At least with his hands and feet secured, he wouldn’t be able to catch her by surprise.

That was her hope, at least.

It took forever to turn the vehicle on the narrow road. Taking her time, she backed toward the wall of trees, eased forward over fallen twigs and leaves, then reversed again inch by slippery inch. Even with every precaution, though, she skirted too close to the edge and the rear tires slid off the pavement, spun uselessly for a heart-stopping moment before once again finding purchase.

A groan from the backseat snapped her head around, and she switched on the interior light to check on her unwelcome passenger. He lay on his back, eyes closed, his face ghostlike in the harsh glare.

“You okay?”

Nothing. Not so much as an answering whimper. “Hey, you.” Still no answer.

“Who are you?” she wondered aloud.

And why am I doing this? Why, why, why?

The painstaking maneuvering had kept her on pins and needles, but once she had the vehicle turned and headed back toward town, she breathed a little easier. The sooner she could dump the stranger at the hospital where he’d receive proper medical attention, the better.

‘Dump’ might be a harsh word, but she had no intention of lingering any longer than was necessary. Ever since she’d arrived in Rapid City, Claudia had made a point of keeping a low profile, though she didn’t try to make herself invisible.

To the contrary, she drove into town every few days to shop, dine out and go to a movie. She didn’t want the locals to think of her as a recluse because that could also draw unwelcome attention and speculation. The trick was to seamlessly blend in, and up until tonight, she’d managed to do a pretty credible job. But the unconscious stranger in her backseat now threatened to throw a monkey wrench into her carefully scripted life.

Nothing she could do about that tonight. All she could do was get him to a doctor and hope for the best.

Fog crept over the windows, and Claudia switched the heater to defrost. Not that it would help much with the visibility. The rain was coming down so hard, she could barely make out the road in front of her and the lightning strikes were getting closer. A little too close, judging by the blast of thunder directly overhead and the static electricity that tingled her scalp.

As she rounded a curve, she caught a glimpse of something else in the road. Not a body this time, but a downed tree. Lightning had split a giant spruce endways, cleaving it cleanly in two so that one vast trunk came down across the road while the other side smashed back into the forest. Claudia braked and sat for a moment, gazing through the windshield at the tangled black mass of heavy limbs and leaves, still glittering and dripping with raindrops.

She had a rope in the back of the SUV, but the splintered trunk was so huge she wasn’t at all sure her engine had enough power to pull it out of the way. And that was assuming she could tie a knot tightly enough to hold. All she might succeed in doing was overheating the motor, and then they’d be stuck here indefinitely.

So what were her options?

The man stirred in the back seat and she glanced nervously over her shoulder. She still didn’t like this situation. Not one bit. Alone with a stranger was not how she’d planned to spend the rest of her evening. What if he was a killer?

The hair at the back of her neck rose, not from static electricity, but from pure, unadulterated fear. Her hand crept to the gun on the seat beside her. She knew how to use the weapon. She’d made certain of that. And since his wrists and ankles were bound, she definitely had the upper hand.

So why was she sitting there paralyzed by fear?

This was no good. She had to do something. She couldn’t stay out on the road all night. If she stalled the engine or ran out of gas, they’d both freeze to death. Not to mention be sitting ducks.

She drew a quick breath. Okay, focus. Make a decision and live with it.

But the dripping chaos in front of her had made the decision for her. With the road blocked, she couldn’t get the stranger to a hospital, and if she took him back and left him where she’d found him, he’d likely freeze to death. And that she couldn’t live with because he might be just some poor guy down on his luck.

And, too, Claudia couldn’t be absolutely certain the bumper had missed him. If her vehicle had struck him, she was somewhat responsible for his safety even though the idiot had been standing in the middle of the road.

Serve him right if I did kick him out.

But even as she grumbled to herself, she was already backing up and carefully turning the vehicle yet again on the slippery road.

“Do not make me regret this,” she muttered as she shot another anxious glance over her shoulder.

Chapter Three

Twenty minutes later they were home.

The electricity was off so Claudia had to get out in the storm and manually unlock and raise the garage door. Hurrying inside, she checked the phone for a dial tone, but just as she’d feared, the line was dead.

Dammit!

Nothing was going her way tonight. If she were the superstitious type, she might think there was a bit of divine intervention working against her, but she had enough real problems to worry about. Like having a cold-blooded killer on her trail. Like dealing with an unconscious stranger in her backseat. She didn’t exactly need to manufacture drama.

Going back out to the garage, Claudia positioned the flashlight to allow the beam to illuminate a trail back into the house. Then she wrestled the stranger out of the vehicle and onto the garage floor.

“Hey.” She knelt beside him and slapped his cheeks to try and bring him around. “Come on, wake up. I’m gonna need a little help here.”

His lids fluttered open and he looked up at her. Claudia wasn’t sure if it was the way the light hit his eyes or her own fanciful imagination, but his gaze seemed to have an unnatural glow. Otherworldly and completely devastating. She sat back on her heels, gob-smacked by the impact of that stare.

With some effort, she rallied her composure. “Hey, can you hear me? We need to get you inside. I’m going to take the tape off your ankles so you can walk, okay? But I’m warning you … don’t try anything. I have a gun and I’m fully prepared to use it.”

She didn’t know if he’d heard her or not. He didn’t nod or express even the slightest bit of awareness. But when she removed the tape and tugged on his arm, he struggled to his feet and allowed her to help him inside.

“This is a good sign,” she told him as she guided him through the kitchen and into the living room. “Walking under your own steam like this. I’m thinking maybe you’re not hurt so badly after all.”

He said nothing.

Claudia maneuvered him into the bedroom and, against her better judgment, unwrapped the tape around his wrists so that she could help him out of his wet clothing. She did the latter in almost complete darkness, not because she was a prude or anything, but because she respected his privacy.

“If you turn out to be a killer, all bets are off,” she warned as she tugged off his jacket. He didn’t offer so much as a flicker of protest, even when she peeled away his soaked shirt.

“I’ll, uh, let you take care of the rest.”

He stripped without a word.

The first thing that struck Claudia about him—well, maybe the second—was his demeanor. Perhaps because he was barely conscious, but he seemed as docile as a child. He shrugged out of his drenched clothing without comment or protest, then climbed into bed and allowed her to re-tape his wrists and ankles. Curling himself into a ball, he drifted off.

The electricity couldn’t have been off that long, but it was already cold inside the cabin. Grabbing extra blankets from the closet, Claudia piled them on the bed, then stood for a moment gazing down at him.

Angling the flashlight beam over his face, she told herself she was checking for injuries, but truth be told, she wanted to get a better look at him. Carefully, she took stock: Dark hair, high cheekbones, a firm jaw and chin. Full lips.

Very full lips.

He had what she and her high-school girlfriends used to call a kissable mouth. Her first crush had had a kissable mouth.

So did this guy. This naked stranger in her bed.

Naked. Stranger. In her bed.

If she were the swooning type, she might feel a little lightheaded at her current situation, but Claudia was no shrinking violet. She had a healthy respect for the human body and her own sexuality, but this little scenario pushed even her boundaries.

She reminded herself she was almost like a doctor here, and he, a patient in her care. She needed to make sure he wasn’t seriously injured.

Or packing a concealed weapon somewhere.

Speaking of which …

She turned and scooped up his dripping clothes and quickly searched through all the pockets. No ID, no money, no car keys. Nothing. So he wasn’t just an unlucky motorist then.

Unless, of course, he’d lost both his wallet and keys. Possible but not very likely.

“So who are you?” she murmured as she turned back to the bed.

“Cold …”

As she drew the down comforter up to his chin and tucked the spare blankets around him, her knuckles brushed against his cheek.

He stirred in his sleep. “Find her.”

“Find who?”

“Danger.”

Claudia swallowed. “Who’s in danger?” Silence.

She put her hand on his shoulder and gently shook him. “Hey! Who were you looking for out there? Who’s in danger?” When he still didn’t answer, she said in frustration, “Who the hell are you? And what am I supposed to do with you?”

“… kill me …” he whispered.

“What?”

He sighed in his sleep and was silent.

Chapter Four

Claudia left the bedroom door open so that she could hear him if he roused. Then she lit some candles, started a fire and after changing out of her wet clothes into some sweats, headed into the kitchen to put on the teakettle.

Ah, the luxury of a gas stove, she thought. At least the power outage wouldn’t deprive her of a hot drink. Nothing like a nice cup of chamomile tea to warm chilled bones and relax taut nerves while waiting for the electricity to come back on.

The chamomile tea addiction was a by-product of her migration to the Black Hills. Back in Chicago, Claudia had preferred black coffee—gallons of it—to keep her alert during her long, tedious hours in the lab. Now she just needed to stay calm.

Her job as Dr. Lasher’s research assistant had been to painstakingly analyze the mountains of number graphs spit out daily by strategically placed REGs—Random Event Generators. It had been Dr. Lasher’s contention that each REG, which resembled a jetliner’s black box, held within it the power to change the world by predicting natural and manmade catastrophes before they happened. And his theory had seemingly been validated when just four short hours before the planes hit the World Trade towers on 9/11, unusual spikes had been observed in the number sequences generated by REGs placed all over the world. Anomalies had also occurred hours before the Asian Tsunami had struck.

Of course, it was one thing to predict a catastrophic event using fluctuations in the number sequences, quite another to determine when and where it would occur and how to stop it. To that end, Dr. Lasher had eventually teamed up with a mysterious colleague who had supplied him with a test subject exhibiting signs of extraordinary precognitive abilities. Their goal was to create a “psychic” machine that interfaced a human pre-cog with the REG in order to better pinpoint pending global disasters.

But Dr. Lasher had come to regret that collaboration, once his suspicions panned out about his colleague. Turned out, he was involved with a covert multinational organization with nefarious plans for the project.

After his discovery, Dr. Lasher became tense and withdrawn, and when Claudia pressed him for more details, he’d mumble inane warnings that made little sense. But in combination with some unusual glitches in the REG graphs, his vague foreshadowing troubled her. She began to wonder if the disturbances in the number sequences were, in fact, indirect communications from the pre-cog. Maybe he was trying to warn her, too.

And then Dr. Lasher had been murdered, and that brief glimpse of the killer’s face had told Claudia everything she needed to know. If she stayed in Chicago, she would be next. The police couldn’t protect her. No one could.

Leaving the city by cover of darkness, she’d driven north by northwest for no particular reason that she could explain. The strange compulsion had eventually led her to Rapid City where she’d rented her little hideaway in the woods and begun a whole new life.

With her research days behind her, Claudia now made a modest living as a website designer, a career that perfectly suited someone who needed to fly underneath the radar. She called her business North by Northwest Designs, and even her most trusted clients were not privy to her real name.

She’d taken other precautions as well, and up until tonight, she’d almost begun to believe that she was safe there.

Now she wasn’t so sure. The stranger’s presence made her uneasy in a way she hadn’t been for a long, long time.

There was something about him that just didn’t seem right. The way he’d appeared so suddenly in front of her car … that unnatural glow in his eyes …

Her thoughts scattered as the high-pitched whistle of the kettle caused her to jump. Then she let out a shaky laugh as she hurried into the kitchen. Obviously, she needed her chamomile tea fix in the worst way.

Carrying the steaming brew into the living room, she grabbed her laptop and settled in before the fire. Luckily, her battery was fully charged and she also had a spare. Since she had no intention of closing her eyes while a strange man was in her bed, she might as well get a little work done. Come morning, when the road had been cleared, she’d take him into town, drop him at the hospital or the police station and wash her hands of the whole nerve-wracking affair.

As she scrolled through her stored images, searching for the right color combination for a collage header, she heard a sound from the bedroom. The incoherent mumble set Claudia’s blood tingling.

Who was he talking to?

Setting the laptop aside, she rose and grabbed the flashlight and pistol, then eased up to the door. Her gaze tracked the light beam from his form on the bed to every corner of the room. He was alone.

Just to be on the safe side, she crossed to the window and checked the lock.

The delirious rambling started up again, and as Claudia walked slowly toward the bed, she experienced an inexplicable feeling of familiarity. Not déjà vu exactly, but something close to it. Something that deepened the chill in her bones and caused her pulse to race. What on earth was going on here?

She was just a little jittery, she told herself. And rightfully so. Having a stranger in the house was enough to unsettle anyone, but given her particular circumstances, she had every right to be on edge.

And if her unease manifested itself in some peculiar sensations, well … that was probably to be expected. She was only human. A human with a terrifying past and a vivid imagination.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Claudia inched up to the bed. The stranger’s eyes were shut, but she could see the rapid movement beneath the lids as he continued to mutter. She couldn’t make out anything he said, and after a few moments, she adjusted the cover and moved away.

But at the door, she paused to glance back. A little shiver touched her spine, like the sweep of a moth, and she found herself glancing around the chilled room yet again. No one was there. She and the stranger were alone. And yet it was almost as if she could feel another presence, a quietly persistent manifestation that moved and faded with the shadows.

Help him.

“What?” Her gaze shot to the stranger but he hadn’t moved, and she was pretty sure he hadn’t spoken. No one had. And yet for a fleeting moment, the voice inside Claudia’s head was all too real.

Help him.

A crawling sense of dread tightened her throat. “Who are you?” she whispered.

Help him. Please.

Almost against her will, her gaze went back to the bed. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “You’re safe here.”

The mumbling stopped. The voice inside her head faded, and the cabin in the aftermath was so hushed, Claudia could hear the soft expulsion of the stranger’s breath.

Then his voice rose and she started. “Where are you? Where are you?” he asked desperately.

Apprehension prickled the back of her neck. “I’m right here.”

“Why can’t I see you?”

“I’m right here,” she soothed, even though her heart pounded like a racehorse’s hooves against her chest. She swallowed. “Everything’s fine.”

“She’s not there anymore,” he said in despair.

“Who’s not?”

“She’s gone. I can’t find her.” “Find who?”

“… danger …”

“Who’s in danger?”

“The girl inside my head,” he murmured, and for the first time that night, Claudia had a feeling he was speaking directly to her.

The girl inside my head.

God help me, she thought as she backed away from the door. She really had brought a lunatic into her home.

A lunatic with an uncanny ability of making her care.

Chapter Five

It took a long time and a lot of patience, but he finally managed to rip off the tape around his wrists with his teeth, then freed his ankles and sat up in bed. Traces of the dream still swirled inside his head, and he pressed his fingers to his temples to sharpen the focus.

If he could just see those images a little more clearly, he might be able to make sense of them. He might actually be able to save her.

Because the one thing that was deadly apparent to him was the encroaching danger. They were coming. He didn’t know when or how, but they were coming. And they would kill her unless he could find a way to stop them.

The throbbing at his temples grew stronger, and he fell back against the pillow, wanting for a moment to draw the covers up over his head and disappear once again into his dreams.

But the sound of her voice had lulled him from sleep and now he had plans to make, traps to set.

Destiny was speeding toward him faster than a freight train, and he had no way to stop it. The only thing he could do was change it.

But first he had to convince the woman she was in grave danger. And that he wasn’t crazy.

For the latter, he really wished he had his clothes.

Chapter Six

Claudia stood at the window for the longest time. The storm had moved off to the east. The rain had dwindled to a drizzle and the lighting was a mere flicker on the horizon. Now that the thunder had faded, the night was almost unbearably still.

In spite of the roaring fire, she felt a terrible chill. The cold was pervasive. It seeped in under the doors and around the window panes and settled over the room like a shroud.

And with the cold came a dark dread. Was someone out there?

Shuddering, she searched the darkness. Was she being watched at that very moment?

She tried to shake off her growing anxiety, told herself she was letting her imagination and her current predicament get the better of her, but the longer she peered into the darkness, the more convinced she became that someone was staring back at her.

It’s okay. The doors and windows are locked, and I’m armed and ready. No one can get in.

But what if the danger was already inside the house with her?

Now you are letting your imagination run away with you.

Was she really, though? She’d brought a stranger into her home, and that was never a good idea, no matter the circumstances.

Earlier, it had seemed as if she’d had no choice, but now Claudia had to wonder. Maybe she should have left him where she’d found him. All his mumbling about danger … that couldn’t be coming from a good place.

Who dashes out into the middle of an isolated road on a cold, rainy night?

Someone on the run, that was who.

An escaped convict, maybe, or someone fleeing from the scene of a fresh crime.

And she had brought him into her home.

Help him.

Where had that plea come from earlier? Had she manufactured that voice inside her head? Was it a manifestation of her guilt for having come so close to running him down?

Help him? Hadn’t she done just that by setting her own safety aside and letting him into her house? What more could she do for him?

This was so not good. For two whole years, she’d been so careful, painstakingly charting every course, meticulously planning every move and now in the space of a heartbeat, she’d put everything on the line.

Wrapping her arms around her middle, she started to turn away from the window, but in the flash of distant lightning, she saw something at the edge of the woods. A silhouette that looked about the height and size of a large man.

With a sharp sense of shock, Claudia peeled her eyes to the spot, stomach muscles contracting, nerve endings tingling with sick fear. But in another flicker of lightning, she saw that it was only a tree.

She really was letting the night get the better of her, so much so that a shifting log had the effect of a shotgun blast in the silent room. Rattled by her reaction, she walked back over to the fireplace and forced herself to calmly stoke the flames as she gave herself a little pep talk.

All she had to do was stay calm and in control. Morning would come soon. She would drive the stranger into town and she’d never see him again. Her life would settle back into the same routine, and that would be that.

The same routine.

For a moment, loneliness edged away the cold and the fear, and Claudia was given a glimpse of how easy it would be to throw caution to the wind for a fleeting companionship. She was only twenty-four, much too young to be living the sterile existence of a hermit. She craved friends, nightlife, someone special to keep her warm and safe on cold, wet nights.

The solitude of the woods and the isolation of the cabin could sometimes wear her down to the point of risking everything for a single phone call to an old friend. Then she would remember what had been done to Dr. Lasher, and her resolve would be bolstered all over again.

Facing death was one thing, torture quite another.

She warmed her hands over the flames, then picked up her cup. The tea had already cooled, so she drifted back into the kitchen to put the kettle on again. Waiting for the water to boil, she returned to the window, anxious and vigilant.

It wasn’t just her imagination and it wasn’t just the strange situation she found herself in. Something wasn’t right. She could feel it. The unpleasant sensation that nested in the hollow of her chest seemed to grow and tighten with each breath she drew.

So engrossed was she in trying to analyze her trepidation that she didn’t hear the creak of the bed or the soft footfalls that stopped at the open doorway. She never heard a thing, but something alerted her to his presence. A premonition or some imperceptible shift in the air currents. Or that voice in her head maybe. Something …

She turned and there he stood.

As naked as the day he was born.

The candles and fire had burned down so that a soft, flickering glow illuminated the room. He was mostly in shadows, but nothing was left to Claudia’s imagination.

She caught her breath at the sheer symmetry of his form. He was all lean muscle and intriguing angles.

As their gazes met across the murky room, she felt something fiery shoot through her midsection, like a crumbling meteorite streaking its way toward earth. The collision was inevitable, and yet she couldn’t look away. For a moment, she had the crazy urge to rush toward it with arms wide open.

She even took a step toward him and then thankfully good sense prevailed. “Is something wrong?” she asked on a shaky breath.

He said nothing.

She frowned at his unblinking stare. “Are you okay?” A longer silence.

He was starting to make her even more nervous. “I know you can speak,” she said. “I heard you talk in your sleep.”

And then it hit her that he had freed himself. Terror curled in her stomach as she realized just how vulnerable she now was.

Don’t panic. Keep a cool head.

What she needed to do was arm herself as quickly and unobtrusively as she could. The gun was on her desk, just to the left of the front door. She needed to somehow get to it without setting off any alarms.

“The weapon won’t help you,” he said.

Claudia froze. “What?”

“You’re going to die,” he said ominously. “And there will be nothing you can do to stop it.”

Chapter Seven

Claudia lunged for the gun, grasped the grip in both hands and whirled to face him. “Don’t move! I’ll shoot. That I promise you.”

He hadn’t set foot outside the bedroom doorway, and now he gazed at her in bewilderment. “I’m not here to hurt you. I came to save you.”

“Save me?”

Dear God, could that be true? Had someone really sent him here to protect her?

But who? Not even her closest friends knew where she’d run off to or why. She hadn’t even clued in the police.

And why now, after two years of being on her own?

It didn’t make sense. Nothing about this whole crazy situation made any sense, especially her reaction to him. She was afraid and fascinated all at the same time.

And against her better judgment, she felt a welling hope nudge away her suspicion. But only for a moment.

Then her defenses came back up, and she steeled her spine and tightened her grip on the revolver.

Be careful here. Remember your motto: trust no one.

Thankfully, her good sense and natural skepticism came rushing back full force. Maybe he was just trying to catch her off guard. Why he hadn’t attacked her when her back was to him, she had no idea. Obviously, his agenda included more than just murder.

You’re going to die and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.

Her chin shot up. We’ll just see about that.

She wouldn’t go quietly. That was for damn sure.

Still, she prayed it wouldn’t come to that. But if he meant her harm, the gun was her best defense. She just hoped he couldn’t see how badly her hands trembled. She was shaking so hard she didn’t dare put a finger on the trigger. Never put a finger on the trigger unless you’re prepared to shoot. She wasn’t. Not until he made the first move. Then she would blast away. Not without regret, but certainly without hesitation.

She clutched the grip. “Who are you?”

“My name is … Jack Maddox.”

The way he paused before he revealed his name reinforced her suspicions. He’d probably pulled that name out of thin air. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

“Who sent you here?”

“… sent me?” He touched fingertips to his temples and pressed. “I … don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” “I don’t … know.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How did you find me?” “I don’t know.” This was going nowhere fast. Claudia glared at him. “What were you doing out there on the road all alone tonight?” “I don’t know.” “Where did you come from?” “I don’t know.”

“Were you in some sort of accident?” Well, duh. Although, whether she’d actually hit him or not was still up for debate.

“I don’t know.”

“How can you not know these things?” she asked in frustration.

His dark gaze held hers for the longest moment. “I’ve been … erased.”

A hair-prickling draft lifted the hair at the back of Claudia’s neck, as if a ghost had just slipped past her. She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder. “Erased? What are you talking about?”

“I don’t … remember.” The fingertips pressed more deeply into his temples. He squeezed his eyes closed and swayed for a moment as if his knees were about to buckle. Then his lids snapped open and he caught her in the most penetrating gaze she’d ever endured. Suddenly, it was Claudia who felt a little weak in the knees.

She tried to suppress a shiver as that dark gaze held hers. “Are you saying you have amnesia?”

“Amnesia? Yes … I have amnesia.” His hands dropped to his sides. Claudia tried not to follow the motion.

The way he said amnesia without any inflection seemed to suggest he was merely repeating a word he didn’t quite comprehend. But how could he not know the meaning of amnesia? He obviously spoke English and he didn’t strike Claudia as illiterate. Something about him just didn’t compute, though, and the conversation went beyond peculiar. It was downright disturbing.

“I need you to believe me,” he said.

And I need you to get your crazy ass out of my house.

Maybe it was only the flicker of candlelight, but somehow he seemed bathed in an ethereal blush. There was just something so truly weird about him. About all of this.

And he was just so … naked.

“What do you need me to believe?” she demanded. “The danger …”

“Oh, I’m very interested in hearing all about this danger you keep talking about. But first could you … do something about that?” She waved the gun over his naked form. Killer or not, the play of shadow and light on all those lean muscles was very distracting. “Throw a blanket around yourself or something.”

He vanished back into the bedroom to comply, and Claudia tried to compose herself before he reappeared a moment later in the doorway.

“That’s better,” she said. “As soon as the power comes back on, we can dry your clothes.” If she didn’t kick him out in the cold first.

“Thank you.”

Such sincerity. Such humble gratitude. He wasn’t making this easy for her. “What did you mean earlier when you said I was going to die and there would be nothing I could do to stop it?”

“It’s true,” he said. “You won’t be able to stop it … but I can.”

“How?”

“By changing your destiny.” “Well, that’s mighty big of you.” Crazy as a loon, Claudia thought.

“I came here to save you.”

“So you keep saying. Just who are you saving me from?”

“Those who wish to kill you.”

“How do you know—” She caught herself and paused with another shiver. “What makes you think someone wants to kill me?”

He gave her a strange, probing look.

Then his gaze shifted to the kitchen a split second before the teakettle began to whistle.

Before the teakettle whistled.

Now it was Claudia who gave him a hard stare as she hurried into the kitchen to turn off the burner.

She placed the gun on the counter within easy reach and was just debating on whether to offer him tea— which would hopefully keep him calm—when he asked from across the room, “What is chamomile?”

Slowly, she turned to face him. “Why did you ask that?”

Then out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the container of teabags by the stove and realized he must have read the side of the tin. Whatever else might be wrong with him, he obviously had excellent eyesight and hearing.

“You’ve never had chamomile tea?” When he didn’t answer, she muttered, “I guess you wouldn’t remember if you’ve been erased.”

Erased.

Good heavens.

“Chamomile is a member of the daisy family,” she said, striving for a conversational tone. The last thing she wanted to do was inadvertently set him off. There was a good possibility that instead of coming here to murder her, he could be just some troubled soul who’d stumbled into the middle of the road at an inopportune time. In which case, the best thing to do was try and keep him calm. “The tea is an acquired taste, but it’s wonderfully relaxing. Would you like a cup?”

She could do with a bit of stress relief herself, Claudia thought.

When he started toward her, she said quickly, “No, no, that’s okay. Just stay there. I’ll bring it to you.”

She got down a second cup and poured hot water over the teabag. When it had properly steeped, she mixed in a little lemon and honey, then grabbed the gun and carried the drink into the living room where she placed it on a table in front of the fire.

Returning to the kitchen, she fixed herself a fresh cup. By the time she came back into the living room, he’d settled himself on the floor before the fire.

“Make yourself at home,” she murmured.

He picked up the cup and took a tentative sip of the tea. “Tastes like flowers.”

“As I said, it’s an acquired taste.”

He drank some more. “It’s hot. Feels good.”

“You must have gotten a chill out there in the rain. It’s pretty cold tonight and your clothes were soaking wet.”

That was another thing about him that puzzled Claudia. His shirt, pants and lightweight jacket were hardly suitable for November weather in the Black Hills. Not to mention his canvas shoes, which were drenched all the way through. It was a wonder he didn’t have frostbite.

But maybe the inappropriate clothing wasn’t so strange after all. Before the storm, they’d been enjoying a warm spell in the area. The daytime temperatures had been so mild that Claudia had even been able to continue her morning hikes to enhance her cardio workout.

With the storm, the thermometer had dropped to a more seasonable chill, reminding her that soon enough the snows would come. She would be sequestered in the cabin for long days at a time, sometimes with no phone or power. Not a single, solitary soul to keep her company.

She shuddered in dread.

Better lonely than dead, she reminded herself.

But back to the stranger …

Perching on the arm of a chair, she rested the revolver on her thigh as she sipped her tea and watched him. He had the blanket wrapped around him, and the way he gulped the hot drink made him seem young and kind of endearing.

But in the glow of the fire, Claudia could see the muscle definition in his bare arms and shoulders. He was strong and probably anything but vulnerable. If she let down her guard for even a second, he could easily overpower her.

“Let’s talk about this memory loss of yours.” She set the teacup aside, but kept the gun on her thigh.

He put down his tea and gazed up at her, looking very mysterious and downright ethereal with the light flickering over his features. His dark hair was cropped short and Claudia had the sudden notion that if he wasn’t an escaped mental patient, he might be in the military or law enforcement. That could explain how he’d found her. Maybe someone was finally looking into the group responsible for Dr. Lasher’s murder. Maybe he had been sent to protect her.

Then again, for all she knew, he could have been sent by the people who wanted her dead. She couldn’t lose sight of the danger he potentially posed just because he had nice eyes and kept insisting that he’d come there to save her.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” she asked. He blinked. “The woods. The road. You.” “In other words, you don’t remember anything before tonight?”

He sighed and seemed to settle more deeply into the blanket. “I don’t want to remember.” “Why not?”

He closed his eyes and shuddered. “… Pain …”

“You remember pain? Then maybe you were in some sort of accident. A car wreck maybe.” It was possible he’d been so dazed and confused, he’d wandered miles from the scene of the crash and then stumbled into the path of her oncoming vehicle.

“The needles hurt,” he said.

Something in his voice—a faint note of fear, nothing more—brought the image of a caged animal to Claudia’s mind. For a moment, she forgot about the possible threat he brought with him. She even forgot to breathe.

He turned to stare into the flames. “I don’t like memories.”

Claudia’s heart beat so hard against her chest, she could hear the echo in her ears.

I don’t like memories.

What on earth had happened to him?

And why did she have an irresistible urge to kneel beside him on the floor and wrap her arms around him?

Why, suddenly, did she want to save him?

This made no sense. She could feel compassion without chucking her common sense. He was still a stranger and she still had to protect herself.

And as for the needles … an escapee from a psychiatric ward might have such memories, mightn’t he?

She bit her lip. “I can understand why you may not like memories,” she said softly. “But if we’re going to figure out why you’re here and why you think I need saving, then we need to know if there’s anything else you can tell me.”

He stared into the fire for a long time, and then his gaze lifted. “Coronet Blue.”

“I’m sorry?”

“That’s what I remember,” he said. “Coronet Blue.” And then, quite unexpectedly, he smiled.

Chapter Eight

Claudia decided the best thing to do was call it a night and figure things out in the morning. Her interrogation had accomplished nothing. If the man really did have amnesia, he needed to be under a doctor’s care. There wasn’t anything she could do for him and her questions might just upset him.

Though he didn’t seem upset at the moment. Not with that smile he’d just flashed. It was a little sly, a little knowing, as if he were enjoying a private joke. At her expense.

Claudia didn’t care for that.

Which was yet another reason why she had no intention of closing her eyes while he was in her house. She would not rest easy until Jack Maddox—if that was his real name—was out of her life for good.

“I think—”

Before she had a chance to finish her thought, he said, “I’ll stay out here. If that’s permitted.” Permitted?

The way he spoke was yet another intriguing piece of the puzzle, as was his ability to anticipate the direction of her thoughts. She’d been on the verge of suggesting that he take the bedroom, but once again he’d interpreted her intention before she had a chance to say anything. His insight was uncanny. Disturbingly so.

“Maybe you should take the bed,” she said. “You need your rest.”

“Why? I’m not hurt or sick.”

Well, except for that amnesia thing.

But come to think of it, the bedroom door did have a lock on the inside, so maybe that arrangement was for the best, Claudia decided.

“If that’s the way you want it. Hopefully, by morning you’ll have remembered something else.” As she spoke, she moved around the room, gathering up the flashlight, her handbag with her cell phone and wallet inside, her laptop and, of course, the gun. The only thing left of any real value was her desktop computer, and somehow she didn’t see him grabbing that up and making a run with it through the rain.

His dark gaze tracked her every move. When she had everything she needed, he held out his hands. “Do you want to bind them again?”

She gave it serious consideration, but obviously it hadn’t done much good the first time.

“You don’t need to worry,” he said solemnly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

He said it so convincingly, she almost believed him.

And she had to ask herself, Now who’s the lunatic?

At the bedroom door, she glanced back. He was sitting exactly where she’d left him before the fire, but rather than staring into the flames, he was still looking at her. His intense focus made her tremble, although she wanted to believe it was just the cold.

“See you in the morning,” she said.

“Good night …”

“Claudia.” Too late, she realized that she probably shouldn’t have told him her name, but if he worked for the men who wanted her dead—or even for the government—her identity was obviously no secret.

Back in Chicago, she’d gone by C.J. Her given name was Claudia Janelle, but she’d never used it until she moved here. Even after all this time, she still wasn’t used to it.

“It doesn’t suit you,” he said.

She frowned. “Why not?”

“It’s an old name.”

“I wouldn’t mention that to Claudia Schiffer if you happen to run into her.”

“I won’t,” he said solemnly.

She shook her head at his apparent oblivion to her pop-culture reference. “Whatever. The name suits me fine. I have an old soul.”

With that, she opened the bedroom door and went inside. Locking herself in, she leaned against the door, shivering in the cold.

This was so not how she’d planned to spend the night. Actually, her nights took very little planning because they were all the same. Dinner alone by the fire or, in warm weather, on the deck. Then she would listen to some music or watch a little television. Surf the ‘Net, read a book, work into the wee hours. Anything to eat up all those long, lonely hours.

If nothing else, tonight had been a break from the relentless tedium her young life had become.

Placing the gun and laptop on the nightstand and her handbag on the floor, she used the flashlight to locate spare linens in the closet. Then getting the bed all set up the way she wanted, she cocooned herself in the cover.

With the flashlight off, the room was pitch black. The night seemed to close in on her, and Claudia lay there for the longest time, staring into the darkness and willing her eyes to remain open, no matter how heavy her lids became.

Chapter Nine

The click of the lock sent a deep shudder through Jack. He knew that sound, and a claustrophobic dread descended over him as he threw off the cover and got to his feet.

He went first to the front door to make sure he wasn’t locked in. When he drew it back, a burst of cold, wet air rushed over him, and he stood for a moment, staring out into the dark and listening to the sounds of the receding storm.

Satisfied there was no imminent threat, he closed the door and went to each window, assuring himself that there were no bars caging him in. He was still free.

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