Eve had risked her life to ensure he got out first.

Why would she put his life before hers? Was it possible she did have feelings for him?

He scrubbed a hand over his face. He was borrowing trouble. When this was over, she would be gone.

Just like before.

There were no words to accurately explain how he’d felt that day in the chapel when she hadn’t shown. His whole world had felt as if it were ending. Then he’d diverted all that pain into anger and the need to find the truth.

Had he found it?

He still didn’t even know her name. Just Eve. And yet he knew more about her after the past seventy-two hours than he had in two months…before.

Available in April 2010 from Mills & Boon® Intrigue

Secret Delivery

by Delores Fossen & Her 24-Hour Protector by Loreth Anne White

Backstreet Hero by Justine Davis & Becoming a Cavanaugh by Marie Ferrarella

The Rancher Bodyguard by Carla Cassidy & Kincaid’s Dangerous Game by Kathleen Creighton

The Bride’s Secrets by Debra Webb

Cry of the Wolf by Karen Whiddon

Sentinels: Lion Heart by Doranna Durgin

The Bride’s Secrets

By

Debra Webb

MILLS & BOON®

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Debra Webb was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it badly enough. She began writing at the age of nine. Eventually, she met and married the man of her dreams and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners, working in a factory, a daycare centre, a hospital and a department store. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office. By 1985 they were back in the States and finally moved to Tennessee, to a small town where everyone knows everyone else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again, looking to mysteries and movies for inspiration. In 1998, her dream of writing came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at PO Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345, USA, or visit her website at www.debrawebb.com to find out exciting news about her next book.

Chapter One

Chicago, 9:30 a.m.

The Colby Agency’s conference room overflowed with staff members. All were present for this morning’s meeting, except the newest investigator on staff. Well, the newest member until their recent hire of Merrilee Walters. J.T. Baxley had taken a bullet last night while serving on Victoria’s personal security detail.

Victoria Colby-Camp sat at the head of the long Mahogany table, listening as Ian Michaels reviewed the tightened security measures. Last night’s attack had confirmed the worst.

The risk to her granddaughter’s safety was no longer mere theory or rumor. It was real.

Too real.

Increasing fear pumped through Victoria’s veins with every frantic beat of her heart. Nothing she or her people had done so far had given them the answers for which they searched.

Every lead turned into a dead end.

Yet, someone out there continued to attempt to get to her granddaughter.

Her loyal staff began filing out of the room. Victoria blinked, dragged her focus back to the present. She hadn’t realized Ian had concluded his briefing.

Ian settled in a chair to her right; Simon Ruhl did the same on her left.

These two men were Victoria’s most trusted associates, professional and personal. Yet, like her, they could only react to the threat. Whoever was behind this had burrowed so deeply beneath multiple ambiguous layers of disinformation that it would take time—precious time—to ferret them out.

This was the first occasion in the Colby Agency’s prestigious history that Victoria had no choice but to admit they were mystified.

“Last night—” Simon kicked off the overview of the few known facts “—an attempt was made to abduct Jamie.”

The sound of a bullet shattering the windshield, killing the driver, echoed through Victoria’s mind. Three were dead, including two unidentified males involved in the abduction attempt. Two others had fled the scene. Though J.T. Baxley had taken a bullet; he’d been treated and released at the E.R. Still, the risk to his life—to her granddaughter’s—had shaken Victoria to the core.

“Have we learned anything new?” Otherwise she saw no need to go over those horrendous details yet again. Another image, this one of her pulling the trigger, ending the life of the man with the gun aimed at her face, erupted in her mind.

She’d had no choice… And still, the realization deeply disturbed her.

Rather than answering her question, Ian and Simon exchanged a long look. Now she understood.

“You believe it’s an inside job.” It pained Victoria to say the words.

“Yes,” Ian confirmed.

“That’s the only way anyone could have known your schedule for last evening,” Simon clarified. “None of us want to believe that’s possible.”

“At this point—” Ian picked up where Simon left off “—we have to face that undeniable possibility.”

Victoria took a breath, her chest tightening with the emotions charging through her. “Do you have a suspect?”

Her closest confidants shared another look.

She wasn’t going to like their conclusion. Victoria wasn’t happy with the concept in general, but obviously the answer was going to be even less palatable.

The Bride’s Secrets

“J.T. Baxley,” Ian stated.

J.T.? “I was at his christening.” Victoria had just graduated from university at the time. One of her dearest friends had opted for marriage over college, and J.T. had been her first and only child.

Simon nodded his understanding. “We fully understand that you’ve known J.T. and his family for years. But he was one of the few who had access to last night’s schedule.”

That was true. J.T. had been a part of her security detail last night. And he’d paid the price.

Victoria shook her head. “This simply isn’t possible.” She had sought out J.T. when his mother had relayed that he had left the insurance industry. Victoria had hoped for years that she would be able to lure him to the Colby Agency. Only a few months ago that opportunity had arisen. He’d signed on as a member of her Reconnaissance group.

“J.T. ignored the all-hands call this morning.”

Simon’s announcement sent a new kind of fear throttling through Victoria. “Has anyone checked on him?” The man had been shot for God’s sake. Though the shot appeared to have been clean, in and out of the biceps with no apparent serious damage, there was always the chance something had been missed. With any sort of penetrating wound, internal bleeding was always a concern. She’d thought nothing of his absence, considering what he’d gone through last night.

“I went to his home myself,” Ian assured her. “He wasn’t there, but the door was unlocked. There was no indication he’d slept in his bed. Nothing appeared to be missing. His cell phone was on the kitchen counter, and his car was in the garage.”

“Then we should be concerned for his safety,” Victoria argued, “not suspicious of his participation in this deception.” The suggestion was preposterous. J.T. was as trustworthy and reliable as the passing of time.

“J.T. may not have been a willing participant,” Simon qualified. “We’ve learned some unsettling details regarding his former fiancée.”

A frown worried Victoria’s brow. J.T. had been devastated when his bride-to-be hadn’t shown. He’d literally been left at the altar. That had been a mere two weeks ago. Rather than having him take on another agency assignment Victoria had allowed him to focus on trying to find out what had happened to the woman, who seemed to have simply vanished. The agony of watching his desperation play out tortured her even now as she considered his plight.

“Explain,” Victoria prompted her closest confidants.

“We don’t have in-depth details as of yet,” Ian offered. “But we have uncovered a number of aliases she has operated under during the past six or seven years. From all appearances, Eve Mattson is a serious scam artist. She may have been playing J.T. as a part of setting the stage for Jamie’s abduction.”

Victoria looked from Ian to Simon. “Find J.T. Whoever this Eve Mattson is or was, we owe it to J.T. to give him the benefit of the doubt. If he’s in trouble, we’ll back him up.”

Victoria would not let J.T. down. If he had somehow been drawn into this plan against Victoria’s granddaughter, it would have been unknowingly and certainly unwilling.

“Also, find out who Eve Mattson is,” Victoria went on. “I promised J.T. I wouldn’t interfere with his search for his missing bride-to-be, but this news changes everything. If Eve Mattson is involved in the plan to harm my granddaughter, I want her found and the truth extracted.” Fury detonated inside Victoria. “Whoever is behind this is going to rue the day they picked the Colby Agency as a target.”

If it was the last thing Victoria did, all involved would pay the fiddler a hefty price for this dance.

Chapter Two

J.T. groaned. He heard the sound…wanted to open his eyes, to wake up, but his throbbing brain just wouldn’t make the necessary transition.

Wake up!

He needed to wake up. Something was very wrong.

His eyelids cracked open, but bright light slammed them shut once more.

Wake up, damn it!

With tremendous effort his eyelids split open again.

Where was he?

His booted feet rested on a stone or concrete floor. Nylon twine tethered his ankles to what looked like chair legs.

Raise your head.

Slowly, his head moved. Pain shattered his skull.

He groaned.

Damn.

What the hell had happened to him?

His eyes opened a little wider. Stark gray walls. He tried to reach up and touch his head. The throbbing above his right ear roared. His fingers fisted in reaction to the pain. He twisted his wrists, couldn’t move his hands.

He blinked, focused his gaze on his hands…his arms.

His wrists were secured to the chair’s arms with that same orange nylon twine.

Okay. Think! He was manacled to a chair. In an empty room. He forced his head to move ever so slightly, ever so slowly from side to side. Yep. No furnishings.

Where was the light coming from?

He moved his head back, peered through squinted eyes at the ceiling. A single bare bulb glared at him from a high ceiling.

Basement?

Garage?

How had he gotten here?

J.T. closed his eyes and summoned the last details he recalled.

He’d been working Victoria’s security detail. There had been a shootout with four unidentified gunmen. One had escaped, two were killed. Three counting Victoria’s driver.

J.T. had been shot.

Instinctively he tried to lift his right hand to inspect his left arm. Couldn’t. Clean shot through the left biceps.

As if the memory had prompted the pain, an ache speared through his biceps.

After J.T. was treated at the E.R., Ian had driven him home. He’d waved as Ian drove away, walked onto his porch, and unlocked the door. J.T. remembered going inside and then…

Pain detonated in his skull once more.

Someone had attacked him.

Fury bolted through him. He jerked at his bindings. Gritted his teeth against the pain.

If this had something to do with Victoria or her granddaughter, his captor should just go ahead and kill him. No way was he giving away any information, much less participating in whatever the scheme might be.

Sweat streamed down his face as he struggled to free himself.

He twisted, squirmed, pulled.

Eventually the fatigue and pain forced him to surrender the battle.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

The slide of metal against metal brought his head up.

Setting his jaw hard against the pain, he used his body weight and his waning strength to shake and jerk the chair to the right. The door was at his back. He needed to turn around so that he could see the enemy coming. A little farther. Move, he commanded.

Harder and harder he jerked and twisted. The chair scooted and swayed precariously.

As the door opened, he managed a final jerk, hauling himself and the chair to face that direction.

A form appeared in the doorway. He blinked. Told himself to look again.

It couldn’t be.

“I see you’re still alive.”

Impossible.

Fury exploded in his veins. “Eve.” The name left a bitter taste on his tongue.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing,” he growled even as the agony screamed in his skull. A shudder rocked through him. “But if you want to survive this, you’d better cut me loose.”

She cocked her head. “Hmm…I don’t think so.”

“Who put you up to this?” The demand echoed in the deserted room.

“No one.” She pushed away from the door and started toward him, one slow, measured step at a time. “This was entirely my idea.”

Every single muscle in his body tensed as she neared. She walked all the way around him. His nostrils flared wide in an effort to draw in her scent. He cursed his body for its betrayal.

Yes, he was glad to see that she was alive and apparently well.

But, by God, he wanted some answers and he wanted them now!

“Whatever they’re paying you,” he informed her, “Victoria Colby-Camp will see that you understand it wasn’t nearly enough.”

Eve laughed softly, the sound aching through him. How had he fallen so madly in love with a woman he hadn’t even known?

“I’m not afraid of your employer, J.T.” She leaned close, close enough that he could feel her breath on his ear. “I’m not afraid of anyone. Never have been.” She straightened away from him. “So don’t waste your breath threatening me. It won’t work, and it’s a waste of energy you’ll need later.”

Her slow circling continued until she stood before him, face-to-face.

“Who are you?” The harshly uttered words were fraught with emotion he couldn’t restrain. Damn her. She’d fooled him…betrayed him on every level. The idea made him sick to his stomach.

She put her hands on her hips and seemed to mull over his question a long moment. Then her startlingly blue gaze settled on his once more. “Even I’m not sure about the answer to that one anymore.” She stepped closer. “But I know who you are.” She leaned forward. “And I also know that you’re a marked man, Mr. Baxley. Either you do as I tell you or you die. Seems like an easy choice to me.”

He stared into those dazzling eyes, his gut clenching with opposing emotions. “How can you be a part of this? Jamie Colby is just a child.” That he could have been fooled so completely worsened the misery in his gut.

The woman he had known as Eve Mattson, braced her hands on his arms and put her face in his. “What you think of me is irrelevant. My mission is all that matters.”

“Are they doing this for the money?” His fingers curled into fists even as his skin beneath where her palms rested tingled with desire from her touch. He silently cursed himself. Hated that he could still want her so desperately.

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she studied his face, searched his eyes. A fleeting flicker of some emotion he couldn’t quite label, regret perhaps, passed across her face—the face he’d cherished with all his heart. The same one that had haunted his dreams every night since she had disappeared.

“I can tell you one thing for certain,” she said, her voice achingly soft and familiar. “It’s definitely about money.”

He held her eyes. Wished he could understand how the woman with whom he’d made love…had planned to spend the rest of his life…could be so cold. Where was the heart he’d been sure he’d touched?

She jerked away from him as if his thoughts had reached out, speared her in that chest that apparently harbored only emptiness.

Then she turned and started for the door.

“Don’t do this,” he urged, the plea all too real on far too many levels.

She stopped and turned back to him. “If it makes you feel any better, this has nothing to do with the Colby agency or the kid.”

What the hell? On cue, his injured arm burned where the bullet had passed through his flesh. “I don’t believe you. If this isn’t about the Colby Agency, then what’s it about?”

“You, J.T.” She reached for the door, looking back over her shoulder at him. “It’s about you.”

Chapter Three

10:30 p.m.

Eve scanned the shoreline, then the street.

No sign of trouble yet.

She lowered the binoculars. It wouldn’t last. And she needed more time. Getting J.T. out of his house and into her car hadn’t been easy. He’d been out cold. But not as cold as the scumbag who’d been waiting for him to come home. She’d taken care of that situation without breaking a sweat. Dumping his body in the water once they’d gotten here had been an easy cleanup. The real work had been moving J.T. to this location before he regained consciousness. She’d been forced to take an extra step to ensure he didn’t rouse too soon.

Now he was wide awake.

And they were close.

Whoever the hell they were.

A breath hissed from her lips as she tucked the binoculars into her shoulder bag. She’d been in this business a long time. Every job she accepted came with certain risks. It wasn’t rocket science. Just work. Get in, get the goods, whatever the goods happened to be, and get out.

She was very good at her job. Damned good. Whatever persona was required, she could pull it off. She researched the required occupation to the point that she appeared every bit the experienced expert. Not once in nearly a decade had her skills been questioned.

For her, creating a new identity and pulling it off was—in a word—simple.

But not this time.

But then, she’d never played the part of fiancée. Lover, yes. Mistress, of course. But never this intimate character.

Her fingers clenched.

Just a job. That was all this had been. She had to keep that fact in mind. The only reason she was still hanging around the Windy City was because no one—no one—double-crossed her.

Until she neutralized this situation, she wasn’t going anywhere.

He wasn’t going to make it easy.

Anticipation zipped along her nerve endings. The need to draw his scent into her lungs…to touch his skin was a palpable force inside her. No one had ever gotten that far beneath her carefully constructed exterior. She steeled herself to block the reaction. Again she reminded herself that he was part of the job, nothing more. And the job wasn’t finished yet.

Not until she got the bastard who’d double-crossed her.

And ensured that J.T. didn’t pay the price.

If this guy thought J.T. was his biggest problem, he had no idea what he’d done. Crossing her had been a serious mistake.

Now she was his biggest problem.

He would soon understand just how big that problem was going to be.

As if the thought had summoned his minions, movement below snagged her attention. She watched from the fourth-floor window as four—no, five—men moved toward the warehouse.

“It’s showtime.” She turned away from the window and headed for the stairs. If she’d been smart, she would have moved already.

Things didn’t always go as planned. That was why her motto remained firm. Always have a backup plan. And an exit strategy for every occasion.

Timing was where she’d fallen down tonight.

She jogged down the three flights of stairs to her destination and burst through the door.

“We have to move. Now.”

Fists clenched, J.T. glared at her. “Whatever you’re involved in, I’m not a part of it.” He moved his head from side to side. “The we that included you and I ended the day you didn’t show up for our wedding.”

Not exactly original, but the statement had been one he’d likely wanted to say to her for two weeks now. He’d gotten that out of the way. Good for him.

She hated to do it this way, but…what the hell. Her right hand rammed into her bag, and her fingers closed around the butt of her Glock. “Save it, J.T.” She drew the weapon. “We don’t have time.”

Dropping into a crouch, she retrieved the knife from her bag with her free hand and cut the bindings from around his ankles with one quick swipe to each. She stood and looked him dead in the eyes. “Give me any trouble and we’ll both be dead in—” she hummed a note “—about three minutes.”

“You carry a weapon?”

The question hit its mark. Maybe not the question, but the way he’d asked it. He’d believed in her. Swallowed her profile hook, line and sinker. She flinched.

She never flinched. But somehow it bothered her that he was disappointed. In her.

“Trust me,” she warned. “We don’t have time for this.”

He stared her dead in the eyes.

“Give me one good reason I should trust you for a second.”

That he no longer trusted her…hurt. And it shouldn’t have.

“Because you want to stay alive.”

A door bursting open echoed in the distance.

The enemy was in the building.

There was no more time to talk.

The decision had to be made now.

“Cut me loose.”

His tone left no room for doubt. He didn’t trust her. Not one iota. But he wasn’t stupid. He would accept her word…for the moment.

Two swipes of the blade and he was free.

She sheathed the knife in her bag and headed for the rear exit, keeping one eye on his every move.

He stood, steadied himself and followed the path she’d taken.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

In the corridor she stayed close to the wall. J.T. did the same. The consuming quiet was disturbing. The enemy was inside. But where?

Part of her wanted to drop back and take at least one of the enemy out of action, but not completely out. She needed information. The scumbag at J.T.’s house had forced her hand. She’d had no choice but to take him out. Couldn’t question a dead man.

“This way,” she whispered to the man sticking close behind her.

He didn’t question her decision, just followed as she took a side corridor that would lead to the outside. She’d spotted five men; taking on five singlehandedly wasn’t something she wanted to do under the circumstances. J.T. was wounded, not seriously but wounded all the same. Not to mention he wasn’t exactly an ally. And she couldn’t risk arming him.

At the exit she hesitated, listened.

J.T. gestured to his right and whispered, “Maybe thirty yards behind us.”

Had he heard something she hadn’t? Then she heard it, too. The whisper of rubber soles on concrete floors. The slightest vibration in the air.

He was good… But then she’d known that.

She pushed through the exit, uncaring of the metal-on-metal sound the lock mechanism made. No time to care. Keep moving.

Down the exterior steps. Quickly. She glanced back once to ensure J.T. was right behind her. He hadn’t slowed down or second-guessed the need to escape.

At least so far.

She hit the ground running. The dock was above their heads. They’d scarcely cleared the exterior maintenance area when she heard the exit they’d used reopen.

The iron stairs groaned with the weight of the enemy’s descent.

Damn, they were close.

“The water,” she said to J.T., knowing he would understand.

Eve rushed toward the bank that wound up to the dock. Her shoes bogged down in the damp earth. She hadn’t factored in today’s rain.

Her feet slid. She braced her free hand against the ground rising up to greet her and ordered her legs to keep moving.

Scrambling onto the dock, she regained her balance and rushed forward. The warehouse’s rear dock jutted out over the water. A single cargo boat floated in the calm waters. A boat would be handy about now but there was no time to attempt getting it started and backed away from the dock.

At any second the enemy would reach their position.

No time to evaluate the situation.

“Jump,” she ordered.

She shoved the Glock into her waistband and dropped feetfirst into the water. Instinctively, she held her breath just before the cool depth engulfed her.

A surge of water from her left told her J.T. had obeyed her command.

Something else that wouldn’t last.

A rip through the water jerked her attention to her right. She couldn’t see anything but she recognized the sound.

Gunfire.

Damn.

She dove deeper. Pushed through the dark depths, headed for the craggy shoreline in the distance. The goal was to get as far from the dock—and the reach of the enemy—as possible before surfacing.

J.T. cut through the water next to her.

She hoped like hell his strength would hold out.

Her lungs burned.

Just move.

She pushed harder.

Bullets sliced through the water.

To her right…too close.

Damn.

She swam harder. Kept her body beneath the murky surface when the urge to rise grew stronger.

Fight the urge to breathe.

Push! Keep going!

One last lunge forward.

She needed air.

Her face broke the surface.

Gasping for oxygen, she swam hard. Stroke after stroke. Harder. Push!

Her fingertips brushed the rocks of the shore.

Almost there.

Where the hell was J.T.?

She whipped around.

He’d surfaced, was breathing hard. Not close enough for her comfort.

The dark figures on the dock were still firing. The bullets cut through the surface of the water. The muffled sound told her they were using silencers.

That was to her benefit. Silencers decreased the accuracy of every shot and lessened the range. Still, they weren’t in the clear just yet.

She grabbed for the rocks. Scrambled through the darkness. Bumped her knee on a boulder. Cursed. Move! Move!

Burrowing into the waist-deep grass, she crawled forward. Faster. Pushed harder. She needed as much distance as possible.

Shots pinged on the rocks.

She zigzagged to avoid any stray shots that made it this far.

J.T. scrambled alongside her.

He was breathing hard.

They had to stay close to the ground until they reached the next row of warehouses. Even though she was relatively certain they were out of range at this point, she wasn’t taking any risks.

And she wasn’t slowing down.

J.T. had to keep up.

The splat of a bullet hitting the ground next to her had her rolling left. Maybe they weren’t completely out of range.

She bumped J.T. He grunted.

His injured arm. Damn it.

She could apologize later.

Half a dozen more yards.

Almost in the clear.

As she reached the cover of the alley between the first two warehouses, she tensed.

Silence.

She glanced back at the dock.

Deserted.

The enemy was on the move.

Time to run.

Her car was parked another block down.

Pushing to her feet, she sprinted forward. The wet bag dragged at her shoulder. Her soggy shoes weighed down her feet.

She ignored both.

By the time she reached the lot where her car was parked, she had dug the keys from her pocket and clicked the fob.

Seconds later she was behind the wheel.

She hit the ignition as J.T. collapsed into the passenger seat.

Tires squealed as she spun out of the parking slot.

“What the hell did you do to me?”

From the corner of her eye she watched him shake his head in an attempt to clear it.

He wouldn’t be happy when she told him about the tranquilizer.

She’d needed him cooperative; otherwise no plan would work. A drug-induced state of unconsciousness had been the fastest and most efficient method to ensure his continued solidarity.

“I can’t really talk right now.” She weaved into the right lane as the street widened to four lanes. What she needed was traffic. It was Saturday night—shouldn’t be that difficult to find as soon as they were out of the old warehouse district.

A glance in the rearview mirror warned that their unwanted company had caught up.

Sensing her tension, J.T. turned to peer over his left shoulder.

“I hope you have a plan B.”

She shot him a look. “There’s always plan G.” Then she pulled the Glock out of her waistband.

Cutting the steering wheel left, she slid between two vehicles. Veering then to the right, she put several cars between hers and the enemy.

She was betting they wouldn’t pull out the firepower in the open like this, but a woman could never be too sure when it came to an unknown enemy.

Deep blending was the way to go.

Two traffic lights ahead the marquis of a movie theater provided exactly the opportunity she was looking for.

The digital numbers of the dashboard’s clock indicated it was just past midnight. Perfect timing. The late movie would be purging its audience into the crowd of teenagers who liked hanging out in the parking lot.

Plenty of cover for blending in.

She took a hard right onto the property that sported a twelve-screen theater, numerous fastfood hot spots and a chain superstore. Speeding across the lot, she selected a lane of parking slots. Pulling in as close to the theater entrance as possible, she shut off the engine and reached for her door.

“Let’s go.”

Thankfully he didn’t argue.

Rounding the hood of her car, she shoved the Glock into her bag, then wrapped her arm around J.T.’s and merged into the milling crowd.

With her free hand she finger combed her long hair. It was soaked, as were her clothes. Her shoes squished with every step. The kids she bumped into noticed, gave her the death ray.

They just didn’t know.

As she and J.T. moved in closer to the building, she grabbed a baseball cap from an innocent bystander. The crowd made it easy. The kid who owned the cap had made it even easier by stuffing it bill first into his waistband at the small of his back.

Pushing through the loitering crowd, Eve made her way to the side of the building next to the main entrance, pushed J.T. against the wall and dropped her bag to the ground. She peeled off her T-shirt and let it join her bag on the pavement.

His gaze instantly zeroed in on her breasts, where the camisole she wore had glued to her skin like an extra layer. A zing of desire shot through her veins.

Not the time.

With a flick of her wrist, she twisted her hair up and clamped the cap atop the blond mass.

“They’re coming,” J.T. muttered as he gazed at some point beyond her.

“Yeah, I know.” She planted her palms against the wall on either side of him and leaned in. “Keep your eyes open. Let me know when they’re inside.”

Then she planted her lips on his.

Chapter Four

Two weeks.

Fourteen days and nights.

J.T. had yearned to feel her lips against his…had ached to touch her…to hold her.

He forgot all about her order. His eyes closed. His arms went around her. The move was pure instinct.

He’d fallen so fast, had loved her so damned much.

But that had been before.

Before she’d stood him up on the most important day of their lives.

His eyes opened.

Fury firmed his resolve.

She tensed, sensing his change.

He clutched her waist. Pushed her a few inches away.

“Who the hell are you?” he muttered, his voice thick with the need throttling through his body.

“Did they go inside?”

He blinked. Her focus was on the now…the situation. He should have known he was the only one affected by the meshing of lips.

Stupid, J.T. Truly stupid.

The idea that bullets had been flying around them as they’d fled that warehouse suddenly bobbed to the surface of all the questions and emotions churning in his confused brain.

He cut his attention to the building’s front entrance. Three of the five who’d followed them from the dock pushed their way into the theater’s lobby. “Three just went inside.”

“One or more will be sticking with my car.” She kept her gaze carefully locked on his. “You don’t see number five?”

“Wait.” His gaze clocked the movements of an older man, one who definitely didn’t fit in with the teenage crowd all around them. “He’s moving in the opposite direction.”

“Excellent.”

She grabbed his hand and started cutting through the crowd. He shouldered between the bodies, staying close behind her.

He had questions for her. So damned many questions. Those would have to wait until they were out of immediate danger.

Could she be telling the truth?

Why would these guys be after him?

He’d worked a couple of Colby Agency assignments with two of the other investigators but nothing on his own yet. He’d made no enemies in that short time or on either of those assignments. His former career in insurance had been as a claims investigator. He’d certainly made no enemies there. His work had been straightforward—review the closed files and ensure that the i’s were dotted and the t’s crossed.

J.T. shook off the situation analysis. Tried to think clearly about the moment.

No matter how he weighed it, he shouldn’t be here with Eve. What was he doing following her? Whatever she was into had nothing to do with him. Obviously she’d drugged him. The knock on the head wouldn’t have dulled his reactions to this degree.

When he would have stalled to demand more answers, she took a left, headed for a couple of teenagers loading into a minivan.

“Hey.”

The kid climbing behind the wheel looked back.

“Can you give us a ride?”

J.T. started to advise Eve not to waste her time. The driver looked ready to bolt. As he well should. Giving rides to strangers was a bad idea.

“I’ll give you a hundred bucks,” Eve tacked on.

The driver exchanged a look with his passenger, who’d already climbed into the van.

Eve pulled a couple of bills from her shoulder bag. “Two if you hurry.”

The driver stared at the cash and licked his lips. “You have to pay me now.”

“Are you crazy?” the passenger muttered to his friend.

Eve handed the driver a hundred. “One now.” She reached for the van’s sliding door. “One when we get to our destination.” She opened the door and climbed in before he’d had time to answer.

This was insane, but J.T. climbed in behind her all the same.

“What the hell you doing?” the passenger asked the driver. He was clearly a lot more rational than his friend.

“Just shut up,” the driver advised as he backed out of the space.

For J.T.’s eyes only, Eve pointed to the car she’d parked a couple of lanes away. Sure enough, a man loitered next to it.

J.T. couldn’t deny the threat had been real. But he was certain this wasn’t about him, despite what she had said.

“Where to?”

Eve turned her attention to the driver.

Before she could answer, J.T. gave the kid the address of the closest police precinct. “I’ll give you twice what she offered if we go there first.”

“You got it, mister.”

Eve glared at J.T. “You’re going to make this hard, aren’t you?”

He cut her a sideways glance. “I don’t know what you’re up to, and I don’t care. But, for me, it’s over.”

That she winced on the final word shouldn’t have reached out and put a chokehold on his throat. But it did.

They were out of the parking lot and a full two blocks down the street before Eve reacted.

She scooted forward. “Don’t pay any attention to my friend,” she said to the driver. “We’re going to the Pier. You’ll drop us off there, and I’ll give you the other hundred, as agreed.”

“No way,” the driver argued. “He said he’d give me twice as much.”

Eve reached into the bag she kept close to her side and withdrew the Glock. “But I’m the one with the gun,” she countered.

The kid’s head whipped to the right.

“Watch it, man!” his friend shouted.

Horns blared.

The driver turned the car back over the line he’d crossed.

“The Pier.” Eve reminded him. “Straight there.” She instructed him on the most direct route. “Make it fast, but stay close to the speed limit.”

Eve leaned back in her seat and divided her attention between the driver and J.T., but she kept the Glock aimed directly at him.

She was not happy.

Tough.

Neither was he.

She’d better brace herself. Once they were at their new destination, this reunion was over.

J.T. decided then and there that he no longer cared about the why. He’d spent two weeks tearing himself apart, desperately seeking the truth.

That was the moment the situation crystallized: in a stranger’s minivan with the business end of a Glock directed at him.

It didn’t matter why. She had dumped him. Disappeared. It was over.

Who she was or what she was into had nothing to do with him, no matter what she said.

He hadn’t recognized the five men who’d shot at them, then gave chase. He damned sure didn’t recognize the woman sitting a scarce eighteen inches away.

Long, silent minutes later the driver took the final turn to the Pier.

“Drive to the end of the block,” Eve instructed, breaking the long stretch of intense quiet. “We’ll get out at the intersection.”

“Whatever you say, lady.”

J.T. steeled for making his break.

His cell phone and wallet were missing. But he wasn’t concerned. He would find someone, even at this hour, around the Pier. All he needed was one minute on a cell phone, and help from the Colby Agency would be dispatched.

The van braked to a stop.

Eve shoved the second hundred at the driver. “Thanks, kid.” She reached for the sliding door on her side. “And remember, this never happened.”

The kid stared at the money in his hand. “That part could be extra.” His greedy gaze lit up with hope.

“That’s all you get, kid,” Eve warned. “Don’t push your luck.”

“But he said—” the kid started to argue.

“He,” Eve interrupted, “doesn’t have a weapon.”

The kid backed off. “Whatever you say, lady.”

J.T. got out on his side of the vehicle. He started in the direction of the Pier. Didn’t look back.

The van rolled away from the curb, passing him as it barreled forward.

“You’re making a mistake,” Eve shouted at his back.

He kept walking, refusing to spare even a backward glance.

She hustled up next to him. “You’re going with me, J.T.”

He didn’t slow his stride. “Not a chance.”

She stopped.

He kept walking.

The sound of a car door closing told him she’d gotten into one of the vehicles lining the curb.

Apparently she’d had a plan B. He hadn’t recognized the vehicle they’d left at the movie theater. Probably a rental. Who knew? He didn’t know her at all. Didn’t know what she liked…what she drove…that she had a fetish for guns.

Nothing.

He’d been a fool.

A few seconds later a car slowed on the street next to him. The passenger-side window powered down. “Get in the car, J.T.”

He ignored her order.

She braked hard, got out. “We’re wasting time,” she shouted over the top of the car. “Get in now!”

He hesitated, turned to stare at her. “Or what? You’ll shoot.” He sent a pointed look at the weapon in her hand.

She didn’t immediately answer.

“So shoot.” He turned away and started forward again.

“Give me two hours,” she called after him. “I’ll explain everything.”

Something had changed in her voice. There was a desperation there…a fear…almost.

He shook his head, wasn’t going to be fooled by her again. Whatever she said, this couldn’t have anything to do with him.

And he was out of here.

“J.T., please. I need your help.”

His step faltered. He told himself to keep walking, but his feet failed him.

“Just hear me out,” she pleaded. “That’s all I’m asking.”

Fury pulsed in his jaw. He wanted to pretend the past couple of months had never happened. That he hadn’t met and fallen in love with her.

The men who’d shot at them…the chase…zoomed into vivid focus in his mind.

She was in trouble. Obviously. Whatever it was about, she needed help. He couldn’t deny that singular fact.

Nor could he deny another glaring fact.

He couldn’t just walk away and pretend he no longer cared.

He did care.

Damn him.

Mentally kicking himself for being a fool, he changed directions and strode up to the car waiting in the street. The sparse traffic glided around her, the other cars’ occupants likely assuming the two were in the midst of a lovers’ spat.

He stopped at the passenger door and stared at her across the car’s roof. “Two hours,” he confirmed. “You have two hours to explain yourself, and then I’m gone.”

She nodded, her blue eyes wide with worry. Her blond hair was still damp and clung to her face like tendrils of silk.

He said nothing more. Got into the car.

She settled behind the wheel and put the vehicle in Drive.

“Where are we going?”

She glanced at him before rolling forward. “Where we should have gone two weeks ago.”

He frowned. Two weeks ago they would have gone on…

Their honeymoon?

Chapter Five

Crystal Lake, 2:00 a.m.

Eve parked beneath the canopy of trees near the rented cabin. The lack of moonlight left them in darkness, which was just as well, since she was relatively sure she wouldn’t like what she saw in J.T.’s brown eyes.

He hadn’t said a word since they’d left Chicago. Almost an hour later, her nerves were completely frayed. So many times she’d wanted to kick off the conversation. Just get it over with. But she couldn’t take the risk. She’d needed him away from the city, and the danger, before she reopened communication.

This far out he wasn’t likely to walk away.

She’d taken his cell phone and wallet. Until she had him convinced of her theory, she needed him basically at her mercy.

Shooting him wasn’t an option.

She got out of the car, reached into the backseat and grabbed her bag and stalked to the cabin. The honeymoon arrangements had been her idea. Convincing J.T. to stay close to home after the wedding, owing to her work commitments, had been easy enough. She’d rented the cabin for a month, rather than the weekend she’d told him about. Having a backup plan was her motto. She never left home without one.

Digging the key from her soggy bag, she breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in weeks. Two to be exact.

But this was far from over.

“If this is a joke, I’m not amused.”

It wasn’t a joke and she wasn’t amused, either. This was about survival.

“We can talk inside.”

She pushed through the door and left it open. If she was lucky, he would follow without any additional persuasion.

But then—she flipped on a light and turned to wait for his entrance—she’d never been one to wait on luck. Her fingers itched to reach into her bag and grab the Glock, make this easy.

Easy wouldn’t work with J.T. He had to come around on his own terms. She’d learned that, if nothing else, in the couple of months they’d spent together.

Tall and gorgeous as ever, he loomed in the doorway, his T-shirt still damp and clinging to his chest. The bloody stain on his left sleeve a reminder that he’d been injured. She didn’t know all the details related to last night’s attack, but she was certain the incident had nothing to do with their situation. He’d mentioned the head of the Colby Agency’s grandchild. Maybe the injury had something to do with that.

Before she could stop herself, her gaze had traveled down the length of him. From his dark hair and eyes to the still-soggy trousers molded to his muscled thighs. Her pulse skipped in spite of her determination not to react to him physically. Apparently that wasn’t a facet of this situation she had under control just yet.

That was something else she’d learned recently. She wasn’t completely immune to certain…things.

And he was one of them.

Just when she thought maybe she might need her Glock after all, he stepped into the room and closed the door. Would wonders never cease?

He’d promised her two hours. The clock was ticking.

Eve tossed her bag onto the sofa and plowed her fingers through her hair. It was almost dry now, but it smelled like nasty harbor water. “There’s a change of clothes in the bedroom.” She nodded toward his arm. “You should probably shower and clean up that wound. I’ll make some coffee.”

He looked around the room. It was the perfect getaway. That was why she’d chosen it. The small but upscale kitchen with an intimate dining spot included a magnificent view of the trees and mountains surrounding them. A cozy living room with a fireplace—not that they would need it in July—comfy leather furniture, no distractions. No television, no VCR, no radio. Just a CD player with a collection of let’s-make-love music. And wine. She had made sure there was wine and food, along with a couple of changes of clothes. She knew his size…by heart.

“Then,” he said, that dark gaze colliding with hers, “I’m going to ask questions and you’re going to answer them. All of them.”

He gave her his back and headed for the only other room in the cabin: the bedroom suite. Jacuzzi tub, a shower large enough to dance in. And a massive king-size bed surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows.

Not exactly your regular, everyday cabin.

This one was designed and furnished for making memories.

The forever kind.

Eve hadn’t made a forever kind of memory in her entire life.

Starting now would be a mistake.

J.T. PEELED THE BANDAGE from his biceps. Winced. A little bleeding from the physical exertion in the water, but he’d live.

He tossed the soiled bandage into the trash and stared at his reflection in the mirror. What the hell had Eve gotten herself into?

The better question was, what the hell was he doing in the middle of it?

He braced his hands on the counter and closed his eyes against the light. The water was running in the shower but it would have to wait. He badly needed to pull himself together here. She’d drugged him. He didn’t have to confirm his suspicion. The grogginess and slowed reactions were confirmation enough.

He’d lost an entire day of his life. That much he’d figured out. Ian had dropped him off at his place last night, technically night before last, since it was past midnight. Someone had attacked him in his own house. He remembered absolutely nothing after that until he woke up in the warehouse.

J.T. opened his eyes and grimaced as he rubbed the back of his head. If she had planned to drug him, why whack him on the head?

Just another question he intended to ask.

He kicked off his shoes and stripped off his clothes. His arm ached with the effort. Stepping into the shower, he embraced the hot water, which felt good pounding his flesh. He stood there and let it pour over him for a while. Until his tense muscles relaxed a bit.

Those moments when her lips had sealed across his kept replaying in his mind. He’d missed her so much, even when he’d learned she wasn’t who he thought she was. The need to touch her again, to see her, still thrived in his veins—however hard he’d attempted to squelch the lingering need. Those long blond tresses…her toned body…and those blue eyes.

He shook his head, hating the fact that she could still make him want her so badly.

He didn’t even know who she was…where she’d come from…nothing.

She’d fooled him, used him for purposes still unknown to him.

This woman had stolen his firm grip on reality.

He needed answers.

Making fast work of washing his hair and his body, he quickly mentally prioritized the numerous questions he intended to ask.

As soon as he had his answers, he was out of here.

Whatever her game or her troubles, he would not be a part of any of it.

She could find some other guy to play the part of fool.

When he’d dried his skin, he checked out the clothes she’d supplied. Underwear. Socks. She’d planned this whole thing down to the last detail. The idea made him mad as hell all over again.

She’d said this was about him, but unless it involved the Colby Agency, it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with him.

He needed to contact the agency as soon as possible and bring them up to speed as to his whereabouts. He’d missed the all-hands briefing. Victoria would be wondering what had happened to him. The abduction attempt had been particularly hard on her.

If he discovered that this had anything to do with Victoria or her granddaughter, Eve would seriously regret the day she’d gotten involved with whoever was behind the Colby Agency’s troubles.

J.T. pulled on the boxers and jeans, then the T-shirt. He checked his biceps. No more bleeding. Another bandage would be nice, but—

A tap on the door jerked his attention in that direction. He plowed his fingers through his hair, took a breath, then opened the door.

She still wore the damp cami and jeans. Her hair was mostly dry. It hung around her shoulders as if she’d just awakened from a long night of…

Stop. Don’t go there.

“I thought you might need this.” She held out a first aid kit. “It’s a habit of mine.” She shrugged. “I always keep one in my vehicle.”

He stared at the kit as he accepted it, then lifted his gaze to hers. “Seems you have a lot of habits I didn’t know about.”

She held his gaze a moment before walking away without comment.

Maybe she had a conscience after all.

Nah…he doubted it.

When he’d covered his stitches with a fresh bandage, he cleaned up the mess he’d made and headed for the showdown. His gut growled—his appetite had reappeared full force.

He would have some answers first.

Unable to help himself, he paused at the foot of the sprawling bed. They were supposed to have had their honeymoon night here. Images of making love—fingers fisted in all that gorgeous hair of hers…sheets tangled around long, toned legs—flashed like a seductive preview in his mind.

His heart pounded with the memories.

Yes, he was an infinite fool.

He stalked out of the room.

“I made you a sandwich.” She gestured to the bar that separated the living room from the small kitchen. “Ham and cheese with mayo, your favorite.”

Anger simmered in his gut, replacing the need for food. Yeah, she knew all his favorites. His likes and dislikes. She knew everything because he’d been honest with her, and he knew nothing about her.

Because she’d lied.

About everything.

“For the third time,” he said, his voice low and hard, “who are you?”

She picked up her plate and got comfortable on the sofa. “That’s a tough one.” Her long fingers tore off a chunk of sandwich. He watched with far too much interest as she lifted it to those lush lips.

The anger started to boil. The games ended now. “It’s an easy question. What’s your real name? The one you were given at birth.”

“The name on a birth certificate is irrelevant in all the ways that matter.” She moved her shoulders in a display of indifference. “My name’s Eve. Eve Mattson. I’m twenty-nine. I live at—”

“Lincoln Park, 2209 Pratt Street.” He plopped into the chair across from her position. “That’s all crap. I checked. You’ve had numerous aliases in the past six or seven years. But that’s as far back as I could trace you. As far as records are concerned, you didn’t exist at all before that.”

Even as he said the words, the whole situation didn’t feel real. Felt impossible. How could he have fallen in love with all the…lies? With a woman who didn’t exist? The better question was, how could he have been so blind?

She dropped her bare feet to the carpeted floor and set her plate on the coffee table. With her forearms braced on her spread knees, she looked him dead in the eye. “The truth is I don’t even remember who I was…before. I am who you see at the moment. That changes when the need arises.”

A frown pulled at his forehead. “Don’t snow me. Where were you born? Who were your parents? Where’d you go to school?”

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