Her most important mission...

and she can’t remember what it is.

After amnesia strands private investigator Emma Langston in Dallas, only Detective Ryder Palladin can stop the men trying to kill her. But protective custody on Ryder’s family ranch has its own risks, like falling for the handsome cowboy. Before she can untangle her feelings for Ryder, Emma must recover her memory...because she’s sure someone’s life depends on it, even if she can’t remember whose.

With over seventy books published and millions in print, LENORA WORTH writes award-winning romance and romantic suspense. Three of her books finaled in the ACFW Carol Awards, and her Love Inspired Suspense novel Body of Evidence became a New York Times bestseller. Her novella in Mistletoe Kisses made her a USA TODAY bestselling author. Lenora goes on adventures with her retired husband, Don, and enjoys reading, baking and shopping...especially shoe shopping.

Also By Lenora Worth

Undercover Memories

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Rescue Operation

Classified K-9 Unit

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Classified K-9 Unit Christmas

“A Killer Christmas”

Rookie K-9 Unit

Truth and Consequences

Rookie K-9 Unit Christmas

“Holiday High Alert”

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Undercover Memories

Lenora Worth

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08625-7

UNDERCOVER MEMORIES

© 2018 Lenora H. Nazworth

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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“We need someone to cover us.” More shots shattered the air and Ryder pushed Emma down again, his breath coming in huffs.

He looked at the trees again, then pulled out his cell and sent an alert text to all available personnel.

Ryder glanced toward the barn and saw rifles peeking out of windows and doors. Then he moved his head slightly toward the house. A curtain was pulled back in an upstairs window.

Lowering his head, he ignored the floral scent wafting from Emma’s hair and whispered in her ear. “When I say go, I want you to run toward the barn, toward the doors. Someone will let you inside.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to cover you, along with my men inside who are waiting.”

“Are you sure this will work?”

“If you run fast, yes.” He looked into her eyes, his heart beating against hers. “Belly-crawl if you have to and don’t look back.”

She nodded and gave him a solid stare. “Be careful, Ryder.”

Another shot hit the air.

“Just do it, Emma.”

Dear Reader,

I love setting stories in Texas. It’s a big, vast place with a million stories to tell. This one grabbed me and I had to write it. Emma made the ultimate sacrifice, and then she had to make another sacrifice after temporarily losing her memory. But her fears kept her from doing what she needed to do.

Ryder was on a quest for justice, thinking if he caught enough bad guys he could appease his father’s tragic and senseless death. This story is about doing the right thing for all the wrong reasons and about sacrificing what could have been for what needed to be.

Together, these two tormented characters came together one dark night and decided to find the truth by helping each other. Sometimes, it seems we are plunged into darkness and that God does not hear our pleas. But He leaves signs along the way to guide us. Like Ryder and Emma, we have to listen, search and be open to those signs. They both found the justice they were seeking, and their sacrifices finally paid off.

I hope you look for the light at the end of the darkness and watch for the signs that the Lord sends. I hope you enjoyed going on this quest with Emma and Ryder. And if you’ve never been to Texas, then what are you waiting for?

Until next time, may the angels watch over you. Always.

Lenora Worth

In the fear of the Lord is strong confidence: and his children shall have a place of refuge.

—Proverbs 14:26

In memory of all the children who don’t find their way home. You are not forgotten.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

Extract

About the Publisher

ONE

Detective Ryder Palladin listened to the grit and static of the scanner and hit a fist against the steering wheel of the rusty, old undercover vehicle. He was hot and tired and full of bad coffee. “Daughtry, come in.”

He’d been sitting in this broken-up, weed-infested parking lot in the armpit of downtown Dallas for the better part of an hour, waiting to see if Daughtry could get their man. Petey Smith was low on the ladder to drug lord success, a gofer really. And as squirrelly as a back-alley rodent. He’d squeal before they slammed the bars on his jail cell.

If Daughtry ever signaled that he had him.

His younger, overly confident partner’s voice finally came through on Ryder’s earbud. “What’s the matter, cowboy? Miss me?”

“Just report,” Ryder growled back, ready to get home. His partner, Pierce Daughtry, had joined Vice two years ago when the man had been extremely wet behind the ears. Sometimes, Ryder believed Pierce was still a rookie, but the kid had proved himself over and over. He’d better come through tonight. Ryder wanted to finish this shift and head to his Fort Worth ranch for the weekend.

“Did you find Petey?”

“Nope, but I found a situation,” Pierce replied in his laid-back Texas drawl. “Might want to come and take a look at this one.”

“I sent you in to surveil one shady criminal.”

“I’m not kidding, man,” Pierce replied. “I... I think I’ve found a dead woman.”

“Call 911.”

Ryder let up with the chitchat and got out of the unmarked car at a run, his semiautomatic pistol drawn, his cowboy boots hitting the ragged sidewalk tearing through one of the worst areas of downtown. A Texas-size summer heat sizzled all around him as his breath cut through the heavy humidity and the dank smells of rotting garbage and worse.

Rounding a dark corner, he saw Pierce Daughtry up ahead in the alley, bent over what could only be the discovery he’d made.

“She’s still alive, but barely,” Pierce said on a loud whisper while Ryder stared down at the still figure. “I think I interrupted them. That big bouncer and his scrawny sidekick.”

“Did you try to stop them?”

Pierce did an eye roll. “What, and give away my cover?”

Ryder did a return eye roll. “What happened?”

“They saw me coming around the corner and turned and ran in the other direction,” he said with a grim grin. “I gave chase but they got away before I could do anything much. Took off in a black truck.” Shrugging, he added with dripping sarcasm, “And that’s when I reported to you, Oh-Great-One.”

“They left her for dead,” Ryder finished, ignoring the sarcasm since it kept them both grounded. “I’ll check her for ID.”

Ryder bent down over the woman and immediately noticed the dark blob of blood on the left side of her head just above her temple. Shining a penlight, he took in her face. Pretty in an intriguing, freckled way. Wearing just enough lipstick to make him wonder. From what he could tell from the sickly yellow streetlight hanging by a thread in the corner, dark auburn-colored hair, long and matted with blood, a slender, buff body, average size in height. She wore jeans and a lightweight blue button-up shirt. And a nice pair of black boots. Pointed toes that looked lethal.

Sirens sounded off in the distance.

“Hang on, beautiful,” he said after checking for a pulse. Weak, but still fighting. Careful, he frisked her, searching for identification. He found a tiny wallet in her back jeans pocket, along with a credit card and some cash, which indicated whoever did this wasn’t trying to rob her. But Pierce showing up could have stopped that. He did say they’d run away.

Careful, Ryder searched her once more and found two more interesting items.

A Glock semiautomatic nestled against her backbone. He held the gun with the handkerchief he kept in his coat pocket and then handed it off to Pierce for safekeeping. Then he went back to the wallet to see if he could find any names or meeting schedules. This was interesting—her wallet also contained a private investigator’s license.

Emma Langston. From what he could see from the yellow glow of the streetlight, the photo matched her physical appearance. Birth date matched the age she looked to be—around thirty-one years old. Her driver’s license was registered to Galveston County and her address listed a property in Galveston. She’d sure come a long way inland for something.

Or someone. Who was this unconscious beauty after?

“Must be important for you to case this joint,” he mumbled while he checked her pulse and tried to make her comfortable. Staring down at her, he asked, “What’s the story, Red?”

Ryder silently prayed she would wake up and answer that question. And all of the other ones forming in his head, too.

Pain stomped through her head like a herd of longhorns.

Trying to push through, she rode the wave of urgency sounding like an alarm throughout her system.

Emma woke with a start, sweat chilling her body and a muted sun shining through the slanted blinds. Sunrise or sunset? Glancing around, she blinked and went into defense mode. She was in a hospital room. “Hey?”

That set off all kinds of alarm bells, but then another kind of panic set in. The kind that could make a person nauseated and full of sick dread. Emma didn’t like this feeling of floating on an empty cloud while her head screamed with agony.

What had happened to her?

She blinked and gripped the sheets, her gaze moving to the beeping machines hooked up to her body. She hated needles. But when she lifted her head, it rolled like a punching bag. A ragged pain shot through her, cutting off her breath.

The panic thickened like a heavy fog.

She couldn’t remember what had happened to her, but her whole body ached in a crushing sequence that moved from her brain to her toes.

“Hey?” she called again and then after a frantic search for the bed’s remote control handle, she buzzed for a nurse.

And got one right away. “Tell Dr. Sherrington she’s awake. And...keep that detective out of here until we can check her vitals and verify her condition.”

Detective?

Emma watched as the nurse did her thing. Blood pressure, heart rate, beep, beep. Lifting tubes and checking fluid bags. Beep, beep, beep. Emma touched her head because at least a hundred hammers kept knocking at her brain. Heavy bandages. “What happened to me?”

The nurse shined a light into her eyes. “You suffered a concussion.”

“How?”

The nurse summed her up and, from the look of respect in her eyes, must have decided Emma could handle the truth. “Blunt force object. Otherwise called a baseball bat.” Then the nurse checked her blood pressure. “But you were smart. Looks like you fought back and possibly deflected the blow, according to the paramedics who brought you in last night.”

Emma had a flash of memory, a feeling of bracing against something. And the one last thought. This is gonna hurt.

But she forced control. “Oh, okay. Happens a lot.”

She didn’t know why she’d said that or how she even knew that she’d been injured before. And that scared her more than knowing.

The gray-haired doctor came in, his dour expression not really helping. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal, haven’t you?”

Emma didn’t tolerate patronizing. “Well, I don’t know. I can’t quite remember.”

She pushed at the panic following that statement. She wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of watching her cave. Trying to breathe in and out, in and out, she watched the doctor watching her.

He checked her over, poking and prodding and testing. Moving his bright light and his fingers in front of her eyes, asking if she could feel this or see that. She didn’t want to feel anything, but she did want to see it all in her mind.

“Things are fuzzy,” she admitted, hoping he’d fill in the blanks.

Finally, he looked at her chart and then he looked at her. “What do you remember?”

She shook her head, swallowed the fear. She could go dark and not discuss this. That MO had worked for her for years now.

And how had she remembered that?

“Talk to me,” the doctor said, no longer in a playful mood. “We need to get you well.”

Emma nodded and decided it might be wise to cooperate. “Doc, I... I don’t remember anything much.”

“Do you know your name?”

She blinked, thought long enough to make the hammers go into overtime. “Emma?”

“Yes, you’re Emma Langston. That’s a start.” He gave her chart to the nurse. “Give it some time. We’ll do more tests and see how you progress. You’ve suffered a moderate but serious concussion, but you woke up within the one-to twenty-four-hour period, and that’s a plus. No swelling or bleeding on the brain. Another good thing. Temporary amnesia is common after a head injury, but we’ll monitor you while we wait it out.”

“I don’t have time to wait it out,” she replied, trying to get out of the bed. She knew one thing: she had to be somewhere. But where and why?

The doctor pushed her back down. “Whoa, you can’t go anywhere just yet. You’ve been unconscious for close to fifteen hours now.” Showing an edge of compassion, he added, “You’ll need some therapy. Head trauma is serious stuff.”

“I’ll be okay,” Emma said, already dizzy again. “I’ve been here that long?”

The doctor nodded. “They brought you in around midnight and now it’s five in the afternoon.”

“That’s long enough for me.”

“Let me be the judge of that.”

He asked some more questions. She gave feeble, weak answers. She couldn’t bluff her way out of this one.

Why am I here?

“Where am I?” she finally asked, wishing she could remember. “What city is this?”

He named the hospital. “You’re in Dallas, Texas. Do you remember where you came from?”

Shards of memories danced just out of her reach.

Dear Lord, help me. Help me in my time of need.

Funny, she remembered praying that same prayer long ago. For some reason, Emma wanted to cry. To curl up and cry, long and hard. But she didn’t cry, she reminded herself. That much she knew.

“That’s a loaded question,” she retorted, pushing away the lump in her throat. “But right now, I can’t answer it.”

Emma had to get out of this hospital. She’d come to Dallas for a reason, obviously. But...she couldn’t remember what she was doing here.

Then she did remember something. Grabbing the nurse’s arm, she said, “You mentioned a detective. What’s he got to do with this?”

“He’s been waiting most of the day to talk to you,” the nurse replied. “I can send him away.”

“No. Send him in,” Emma said. “Maybe he can help me piece things together.”

The nurse looked skeptical but finally nodded. “I’ll ask Dr. Sherrington.”

“No. I said let me speak to the detective. Now.”

“I’ll go and find him,” the nurse responded.

Emma sank back against the pillow, drowsiness tugging at her consciousness. She had to talk to that detective. Had she done something wrong? Or did he know who’d done this to her?

She waited, holding her breath, her prayers as scattered as her memories. The detective might be the one person who could tell her why she had such a strong urgency in her heart to get out of here.

He flashed his badge. “Detective Ryder Palladin.”

Emma stared up at the man standing at the foot of her hospital bed. He filled the room and made it shrink until she felt his too-close appraisal.

To mask her fears and confusion, she turned things back toward him. “Palladin? Really?”

His wry grin told her he got that a lot.

“Yep. It’s my real name. But with two Ls.”

“Like the cellular palladin, not the gunslinger Paladin?”

“So we’ve established you know your chemistry and that you remember that old Western series.”

Surprised at herself, she nodded, a memory of sitting on a sofa with some other children when she was tiny hitting her in the gut with a sweet intensity. Did she have a family somewhere? “I guess so. The doc told me I’d have little clusters of memories. Islands of memories, he called them.”

Ryder Palladin didn’t look like a big-city detective. More like a cowboy straight out of that old Western. Complete with a cream-colored hat, plaid button-up shirt and nicely worn jeans. With dark longish wavy hair and glinting bronze-brown eyes that held a gold mine of secrets.

He took off his hat and allowed her to enjoy all that luscious wavy hair. “Do you remember who you are?”

“Emma. Emma Langston, according to the doctor.”

“But not according to you?”

“I’m remembering bits and pieces. Why are you here?”

Lifting a dark slanted brow, he chuckled while his secretive gaze did a round on her. “You get right to the heart of things, don’t you?”

“I don’t have time for idle chatter.”

He absorbed that with classic detective disdain. “Need to be somewhere in a hurry, Emma Langston?”

She didn’t like his smug attitude or the way he made tiny little shivering sensations float down her spine. “What do you know about me?”

“I’m the one who asks the questions,” he retorted, throwing his hat in a nearby chair. He had the kind of hair a woman wanted to grab onto and hold. Silky, shining, unruly.

“I’m the one who needs to know what happened,” she replied, her head hammering and grinding in pain while her heart jumped in a fast-beating tempo.

“You got hit with a baseball bat.”

He watched her cringe. “Yeah, the nurse told me. But I think I can almost remember that. I need a few more details.”

He put his hands against the foot of the bed. His big, tanned hands. “You were at the Blue Bull Bar—the Triple B to the locals. Do you almost remember that, too?”

Emma swallowed away the terror of not remembering, of not knowing. She liked to be in control—of her emotions, of her life, of her work. Somehow, she did know that.

“Why would I go there?”

He gave her that lazy slide of a gaze again. “I’m asking you.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Your ID shows you’re a private investigator from Galveston.”

Emma inhaled a breath, the sound of ocean waves crashing against a seawall filling her mind. Images of a tiny beach house, all blue and white and sunny, made her feel secure. But other memories of fear and urgency seemed to want to darken her mind.

He picked up on her confusion right away. “Do you remember that now?”

“Some. Maybe. I can see the beach in my mind. A house. I might live there. But why did I come to Dallas?”

“I’m thinking you were at the Triple B looking for someone or maybe tailing someone.”

“Why were you there?”

“Do you always answer a question with a question?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

That retort won her a grin of appreciation. “And she has a wicked sense of humor at that.”

“Seriously, why were you there? It might help me remember.”

“Good try.” He eyed her for a long minute, still not quite trusting her. Then he leaned in. “I work Vice.”

“A vice detective? Did I do something wrong?”

“No. But my partner found you unconscious in the alley behind the Triple B.”

Another memory of walking into a seedy, dark bar, the smell of beer and smoke assaulting her, making her feel sick. Stares and whispers and...questions.

“I asked some questions.”

“I reckon you did.”

“They told me to get out.”

“I reckon they would.”

“I can’t remember why I went there.” The panic started up. “I need to get out of here and find out what’s going on.” She lifted, tried to sit up. But her head went wild with pain and agony, causing her to turn dizzy and confused.

“Hey, hey,” he said, his hand on her arm strong and steady, his eyes kind now. “Lie back. You can’t go anywhere just yet.”

Emma gulped in air, nodded. Pretended she hadn’t noticed his touch. Crazy that this man seemed to hit all the marks even when she was in crisis mode. Even when she couldn’t remember if she was married or single. Single sounded more like it. Something she did need to remember. “Do you know who did this to me?”

He pulled out two grainy snapshots that made her have a flash of a memory. She’d taken such shots in her line of work.

“Do you recognize these two men?”

Emma squinted against the pain in her head and carefully studied both photos. “I don’t know. The skinny one seems familiar.”

He nodded and put the pictures back in his shirt pocket.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, his tiger eyes full of concern.

“My mind back.”

“We’re working on that.”

“And you look so happy about it,” she noted out loud.

He stood, his gaze holding hers for a beat too long. “Big Sam and Little Eddie guard that place. We call them a bounce and an ounce. One’s big, bald and beefy—”

“—And the other’s short, scrawny and scared?”

“Good description.”

“He came at me—the little one.” She motioned to his pocket. “That could be the same two men—in the photo. The skinny one came at me while the big one made sure I couldn’t get away. And I told myself it would hurt. I tried to fight, get to a weapon.”

“I know,” the detective said. “You’re alive because you fought, and that’s amazing.” Then he shifted, crossed his big arms over his chest. “If my partner hadn’t come along, you might be dead. He scared them away.”

“He saw them?”

“He thinks it was them but he can’t be sure. Okay, we know it was them but...we need your take on that. Identifying them can help.” He studied her for a couple of beats. “We did find traces of epidermis underneath your nails. Waiting on the DNA from that and the other bits and pieces of evidence we collected.”

Emma had a flash, a memory of her fingernails digging into skin. “I need to get out of here.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I have to figure this out.”

“Rest,” he said, his tone gentle now, his eyes washed in empathy. “Let me do the figuring.”

Confused and wishing she didn’t have to depend on him, Emma gave him an astonished stare. “You’ll do that for me?”

Those eyes gazed at her with all the intensity of a strobe light. “You’re a victim of a crime and it happened on my watch, so yeah, I’ll do that for you.”

“You didn’t tell me why you were there.”

“I like the neighborhood.”

With that, he handed her his card. “Call me if you remember anything else. Anything at all.”

Emma watched him go, her eyes traveling down to his feet, her heart excited to take the ride with her.

Yep. Boots. Buttery tan and worn but probably handmade.

She wanted to ask how a cowboy like him had wound up working Vice in the first place.

She’d get to that question next time she saw him.

Because she knew the good-looking detective would be back.

He’d want answers. Well, she wanted answers, too.

They had that much in common already.

TWO

The next day, Ryder headed back to the hospital to check on Emma. He’d put a patrol on her door while he did some digging on both the pretty PI with the head wound and the two goons who’d allegedly left her for dead.

One perk of being a vice cop, if there was such a thing. He had a lot of confidential informants who’d squeal for anything from money to food to opioids to get them through the day. He didn’t hand out drugs as prizes, but he did offer people cash to get food or do whatever their conscience allowed or forced them to do. Some of his informants had turned their lives around and often thanked Ryder for helping them. Some died or disappeared.

But last night, one had come through for him.

“I saw her,” the kid everyone called Junior had told him in a hushed voice while they hid behind some buildings and trees about a block from the Triple B. His eyes were swollen from too much vodka and pot and his face showed signs of a whole lot of soul-searching and streetwalking. “She was pretty. Stood out. Asked a lot of questions. Wanted to know if any underage teens hung out at the Triple B.”

“Underage teens? So you think she was looking for someone? A runaway maybe?”

“Maybe. I told her all kinds come and go and she mentioned a name, but then I got out of there when Bounce and Ounce started stalking her.”

Ryder showed the CI a grainy picture of Emma he’d pulled from a social media page. “Does this look like the woman you saw?”

“Yep. I think that’s her. I remember that shiny hair—like red wine. She looked tough.”

“Yeah.” Ryder could attest to that and the shiny auburn hair. “Do you remember the name she mentioned?”

“No. Like I said, I had to leave quick.”

So now Ryder had established she had been in the bar and why she might have been there. And he had a possible eyewitness to seeing Bounce and Ounce going after her. But he knew from past experience the kid wouldn’t go on record with this information.

He’d given the kid a twenty. “Go get a shower and some food at the shelter down the street.”

Ryder figured the kid would buy drugs and liquor with the money but prayed he’d at least get some food in him. Nasty business, the things Ryder saw each day. But he always remembered his daddy’s advice.

“Pray the ugly away.”

I’m trying, Daddy.

Remembering his larger-than-life father who’d been sheriff in Denton County for twenty-eight years before he’d been shot down while off duty, Ryder again wondered why he did this job. He’d just gone off to college when his dad had died. Ryder had come home and finished up at a junior college near the ranch. Criminal justice. Then he’d headed to the police academy and never looked back. Or maybe he always looked back. Hard to tell.

He wanted justice, of course. He could go home to the ranch that had been in his family for generations and make a nice living off the livestock and the land, but this job kept tugging him back. According to his mother, he had a death wish. One she and his teenaged sister wanted him to give up.

Ryder wasn’t quite ready to walk away from crime.

Especially not now. Emma Langston had put a kink in his undercover investigation, but she’d also rallied some long-lost thread of feeling inside his heart. Curiosity had him by the throat. Her expressive eyes had him by the heart.

Not wise. No time for such notions. He didn’t take the time to have a love life. His job scared women away. His mother tried to set him up with fine, upstanding churchgoing single women. But the minute he mentioned working Vice in downtown Dallas, he never saw those sweet women again and usually saw wedding photos of them on social media. That kind married doctors and lawyers and ranchers. Not detectives who walked through the seamy, ugly side of life. Nope. No time to even think about Emma’s immediate hold on him.

She’s not that kind.

Okay, his always-arguing brain had him on that one.

She was not that kind at all. Different. Tough. Determined. Strong. Afraid. Secretive. Reckless and ruthless.

Maybe he didn’t need her kind in his life either.

But he checked with the nurses’ station and got permission to go in and see Emma even while his brain told him to let it go. Then he talked to the officer who’d stood watch.

“All quiet,” Seth Conyers said. “I sat in that chair all night and I have the bad back to prove it.”

“I’ll be here for a while,” Ryder told the officer. “Go on home to your wife. I’ll stay until your relief shows up.”

Ryder didn’t want to be at the station right now anyway. As he’d figured, Bobby Doug Manchester had shown up to speak to the chief about “the constant barrage of criminals and indecent people who walked the streets of Dallas.” Ryder had left with the echo of the pompous businessman’s sarcastic wrath ringing in his ears.

“You keep at it, Detective Palladin. You’re doing such a great job.”

Ryder knocked and heard Emma call out, “Come in.”

She sat up in bed, her blue-green eyes watching the door with an alertness he recognized all too well as a flight risk. But her color was back and, other than a few bruises and the bandage on one side of her head, she looked much better.

Lifting her chin, she asked, “Did you send the uniform away?”

“You mean Seth? Yeah, he was ready for some shut-eye.”

“Are you his replacement?”

“And good morning to you, too.”

“I need your help to get me out of here.”

“Why, yes, I had a pretty good night myself, and thank you for asking.”

She sank back, her long hair slinking over her shoulder. “Sorry. I don’t make a good patient.”

“I never would have guessed.”

“I’m starving.”

“Didn’t they feed you?”

“I didn’t like the food here.”

“That explains why you’re still hungry. Or maybe just hangry.”

“I’m bored and aggravated—and hungry and angry. Will you help me?”

Letting out a tired sigh, Ryder sat down in the high-backed recliner across from the bed. “What exactly do you want me to do? Smuggle in some real food?”

“Bust me out of here,” she said on a quiet note that kind of tugged at his heartstrings. “I could use a good hamburger.”

Even with a huge bandage on her head, the woman showed a strength that seemed to buzz with electricity. That or he’d had one too many cups of coffee this morning. Ryder had never met anyone quite like Emma Langston. Here she sat with a busted head and wearing a faded hospital gown, but she had more gumption and grit than most of the notorious criminals he came up against on a daily basis. And she sure looked a whole lot prettier than them, too.

But he could not indulge in all that gumption and grit and prettiness. This job demanded all of his attention. He had to get to the bottom of why she was here so he could get on with his own investigation.

“I’m pretty sure your doctor and my chief would both frown on that,” he replied, referring to her earlier question.

“And I’m pretty sure you’re the kind who doesn’t worry about being frowned upon.”

“You know me so well already?”

“I know your kind.”

Glancing around, he took in that assumption and said, “So did you remember anything else?”

“I didn’t sleep, so I had time to think about things.”

That wasn’t exactly a good answer. “And?”

“And I need to be out there, not lying here.”

“You do know you have a head injury even if your head is too hard to get that, right? What does your doctor say?”

“He’s done a set of questions and because I can’t answer all of them, he wants me to rest. But I can’t rest.”

“What did you remember, Emma? And don’t try to con me.”

Emma worried with her covers, her fingers curling into the soft white fleece of the warm blanket. How much could she trust him? How much did he know already? What if he was part of this? What if he knew more than he was letting on?

Testing him, she asked, “How far did you get with my background check?”

His eyebrows winged up in surprise. “Far enough. Since you either can’t or won’t share what you remember, I’ll tell you what I know.”

She didn’t move. Couldn’t move. Fighting with her brain all night had brought her nothing but a bad case of anxiety. Even her dreams made no sense.

“You were born in Galveston. You attended school there and in Houston—several different schools—but you were a straight-A student. Graduated with honors and a little scholarship money and went to the University of Texas. Studied criminology. Worked as a police officer for two years and then ventured out on your own to become a private investigator.”

He named her address, and a vague memory came alive inside her brain. A memory of almost being at peace with herself.

Almost.

“I was a police officer?” Emma squinted, tried to find the shattered pieces of her memory. Faces and arguments, shame and danger. She didn’t want to remember.

Those scattered memories, just as the doctor had said. But the doctor had also told her that happened in about a third of amnesia patients. Emma thought these little islands of floating memories made it much worse. They offered glimmers of hope but made her head feel like a jigsaw puzzle.

Ryder continued, his gaze studying her with a new shine. “Thirty-one years old and single.”

He said that in a way that suggested he approved. But again, Emma felt something like a dull knife stabbing at her heart. “Guess I don’t have much of a love life.”

His eyes held hers a little too long on that last note. “Tried any dating sites?”

“Wow, Detective, you sound as if you’re casing me for a date or something. Do you hang out on match-up sites a lot?”

“If I did,” he said with a slow drawl that feathered its way down her spine, “I’m guessing I wouldn’t find any information on one Emma Langston there.”

“You’d be right on that, but what would it matter? Seems you know more about me than I know myself. Like I said, I don’t date very much.”

“And you remembered that, at least.”

“I’m remembering odd things,” she admitted. “Any deep, dark secrets in my background check?”

“I did find one thing interesting,” he said, his voice calm and controlled and clear. But he hesitated.

“What?” she asked, her heart pumping. “I can handle it. Just tell me.”

“Emma, you were a foster child. You went through the system from the time you were five and lived in several different homes around the Houston area.”

Emma grabbed the blanket covering her, her fingers digging into the lightweight fabric. Her heart went cold, vague memories echoing through the pain in her head. “I... I don’t...remember. Why can’t I remember?”

“Hopefully it will come to you,” he said, his tone soft and low. “You also have a gap in your background. Almost a whole year between high school and college. But you would have just aged out so maybe you took off and stayed low until you decided to work your way through college.”

Emma stared him down, her mind like a massive cobweb. She didn’t remember very much, but that missing year seemed to jump right out at her, like a bad clown trying to scare her. Shivers made goose bumps on her arms.

“Any record of what happened to my parents? How did I wind up in the system?”

“I haven’t found anything on that yet,” he admitted. “But I found something in your wallet. A picture of a couple and an address on the back. But no names. Maybe they were your birth parents.”

He pulled out a photo encased in clear plastic and handed it to her. “Do you recognize them?”

Emma stared at the couple, the term birth parents chilling her like ice water. The woman had a classic bob haircut, grayish and simple. The man wore glasses and had a nice smile. Something tugged at Emma when she recognized her own handwriting in the hastily jotted address. A push and pull that she didn’t want to explore. She took in breaths, a sense of foreboding making it hard to find air.

“Did you contact these people based on that address?” she asked Ryder.

“Not yet.” He watched her staring at the photo. “But I have someone down south who does the same kind of work you do. He’s waiting for us to give him the go-ahead to question them.”

“Don’t,” she said. “Not yet. I can’t remember these people so...let’s see if I can figure it all out before we approach them.”

“Are you afraid?”

Her pulse bumped into an erratic beat. “I don’t understand what I am right now. Maybe they were my clients? But why would I carry their picture in my wallet?”

“They could tell us why.”

“Not yet,” she said, her gut holding her back. “I’m a PI. I keep quiet on a lot of things. What if I came here investigating those people?”

“Do you think that?”

“I can’t be sure. But before we involve them, I’d like to hear what your friend finds out.”

Ryder took the picture back and then gave her a blank stare. “What are you leaving out? What’s going on with you? You’ve wanted to get out there and get at it, and now you’re holding back on me.”

“I told you, I don’t remember much,” she replied. “I feel it in my gut, though. I had to have come here looking for someone. I must be looking for a certain person. That couple could be my clients or they could be part of the problem.”

He sat up and nodded, but he didn’t push her on anything else. “I talked to a source who saw you in the Triple B. Said you were asking a lot of questions about underage teens. Does that ring a bell?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Can you find my cell phone, please?”

“Emma?”

“I told you, I want to leave the hospital and I’ll do it, with or without you.”

“Don’t be foolish. How can you solve this thing when you can’t even remember much past your name and occupation?”

She bit her lip and hit her fists against the blanket in frustration. “Would you leave, please?”

“I’m trying to help you,” he said, his own aggravation darkening his golden eyes to burnished brown. “Let me work this thing out.”

“It might be too late,” she cried out. “And don’t ask me how I know that.”

Ryder got up and touched her hand. “Look, my partner and I are working on this. There are some bad elements at the Triple B and we’re trying to break up a dangerous ring of criminals. You don’t need to be in the middle of that.”

“I’d say I’m already in the middle of that,” she retorted.

“I’ll keep beating at the bushes and I’ll report back to you every day. How about that?”

Knowing he’d come here to see her made Emma feel better and also made her let go of some of her hesitations. But she had no intention of lying here like a sitting duck.

“They’ll find me,” she said. “I saw a brief report on the evening news late last night. About me.”

Anger shot over his features. “What?”

“They didn’t name me but they reported an unidentified woman being attacked behind the Triple B and that she was in a local hospital.” She swallowed, wishing she hadn’t told him that, but he’d find out soon enough. “The report indicated the Triple B is a very dangerous place. Especially for vulnerable young women. Then they talked to a local businessman named Bobby something who ranted about crime in that area.”

Ryder shook his head and groaned. “Bobby Doug Manchester. A lawyer and a real estate tycoon who’s always griping about the crime around that part of town. Speculators think he’s gearing up to run for office one day. Reporters listen to the police scanners. On slow nights, they go for any scrap of news even when they don’t have all the facts, and Bobby Doug listens in and rants on about crime in his district since he’d like to buy out the vacant buildings around there. He probably tipped off the reporters.”

Ryder figured that was what his early morning visit to the station earlier had been all about. The self-righteous Bobby Doug hounded the locals on a regular basis.

“Well, I’m that scrap of news and the man made it clear he wants the lowlifes off the streets of Dallas,” she replied, her tone calming now. “I’m a PI investigating some sort of case that somebody wants to keep me from investigating, and someone else is paying me to do that. I don’t need some ambitious businessman mentioning me by name so he can gain points. Another reason why I need to get out of here.”

Ryder stood over her, worry clouding his face. “Part of the report you heard in the news is correct, Emma. I’m doing my best to get rid of that bad element at the bar, so I don’t need the press or Bobby Doug snooping around. But then again, maybe someone wants the press involved enough to scare you away. Do you believe those two were going to kill you?”

“I’m pretty sure of it,” she said, nodding. “I must have asked too many questions about something they didn’t want me to know.”

Ryder lowered his head and gave her a direct stare. “Or you were close to finding someone they didn’t want you to find.”

“I need my cell phone,” she said, turning to get out of bed.

“We didn’t find a phone on you or near you. And if we had, it would have gone to the lab.”

“But it might help me remember something or find out why I came here. Are you sure?”

“We didn’t find anything like that near where you were attacked. No purse or phone, nothing except your wallet...and a weapon.”

“I carry a gun?”

“Yes, and you’ve got a permit for that. Already cleared. Your gun is safe back at headquarters in the evidence room. It hasn’t been fired recently. Clean as a whistle.”

Another strong memory of trying to get to the gun. “I rarely have to use the thing.”

He looked in the locker next to the bathroom. “Your wallet is right here in the bag with your clothes, but we cataloged and photographed what we found. The crime scene techs didn’t find much in the alley, but they did dust the Dumpster where you fell.”

She took in a gulp of air. “I was shoved against the Dumpster.”

“You remembered?”

“Yes, someone shoved me. They held me but I fought back until one of them found the sweet spot on that bat.” She held tight to the blanket and sheet. “Somebody shouted just as the bat came down. I managed to move my head, but obviously it still made contact.”

“Another odd memory.”

“Do you believe me, Detective Palladin?”

“Should I believe you, PI Emma Langston?”

“Why would I lie? I’m remembering bits and pieces. That’s all I’ve got for now. Why don’t you go Dumpster diving and see if Bounce and Ounce threw away my phone?”

Ryder settled in the nearby chair but never really answered any of her questions. She didn’t blame him for doubting her, but it stung either way. Frustration made her lash out. “What do you think?”

“Bounce and Ounce would have cleaned up the scene if Pierce hadn’t sent them scurrying. Those two have heavy records on petty crime and a nice history of several assaults, so they’d have no qualms about murdering anyone. But we can’t find them to get their side of things. There wouldn’t have been any trace of you ever being there if they’d succeeded.”

“You think they have my phone?”

He held up a finger. “I’m going to send Pierce back out there with the techs to check the Dumpster again. They would have checked it the other night—or should have. They might find something new with today’s trash dump, though.”

“I must have had a car. How else could I get there?”

“Do you remember a car?”

She closed her eyes, then hit her fists against the sheets. “No. Nothing. Maybe I took the DART.”

She watched as he texted someone. How could she remember the transit system and not the people in that photo? Who were they? Did they hire her?

Ryder didn’t notice her inner agitation. “My partner will know if they found your car, but we didn’t find it last night. Bounce could have hidden it and your phone.”

“I remember a dark parking lot. A long street.”

“That’s something at least.” He finished the text, his eyes on her again. “If we find an abandoned vehicle nearby we can trace the license and registration and see if it belongs to you.”

“Yep. First thing I’d try.”

“Funny, that memory of yours. Selective.”

“The doctor said it could be this way.”

“I read up on amnesia, so I reckon he’s got you all figured out.”

He was calculating, and her not having a phone with her wasn’t adding up. Not in her disoriented thoughts either. “Maybe I purposely left my phone in the car. You know, to keep them from seeing something I’d saved there.”

“We’ll go with that for now. That, or they have the phone and already know what’s on it.”

“Okay.” Her heart was sinking by the minute while her pulse seemed to be rising. “I need to get out of here, Ryder.”

Ryder went back to the locker again. “When you’re able.” Then he went into the bathroom, probably checking the place out for weapons or things she’d hidden, since he obviously didn’t believe her or think she should leave the hospital.

She was about to show him that she was able to get up and go but the door opened and a janitor entered with a big cart. “I need to clean the AC filters.”

Emma glanced toward where Ryder had gone still beyond the bathroom door, his hand on his weapon, a finger to his mouth. Then she glanced back at the man and shook her head.

“Excuse me?” she said, stalling. “I don’t see any filter vents in here.”

The man didn’t elaborate.

Ryder didn’t wait. He whirled around the door, his gun drawn and aimed at the man. “Show me some ID.”

The surprised intruder took one look at Ryder and pushed the cart toward him, then managed to tug at the door and run down the long hospital hallway.

“Don’t move, Emma,” Ryder called out. Then he hurried down the hall ordering the nurses to call security. “Lock this place down,” he shouted. “Now.”

THREE

Ryder moved down the stairwell at a breakneck speed, his boots hitting steel as he chased after the man who’d just tried to attack Emma. When a shot rang out and missed Ryder by inches, he grunted and picked up speed. They made it to the bottom floor of the sprawling hospital. Ryder listened as a door opened and shut with a thud and a bang.

By the time he got outside to the loading dock, the man was gone in a sea of linen trucks and official vehicles.

Calling in a description, Ryder hurried back up to check on Emma. After a thorough search by both hospital security and several police officers, the lockdown was lifted.

Pierce showed up and took a report. “No sign of the man you described, Palladin. He’s long gone. But we got people looking.”

“Keep at it,” Ryder replied while they stood in the hallway in front of Emma’s room. “I’ll stand guard. And let me know what our people find at the Dumpster behind the bar. Tell them to go over every inch of that alley and the side streets.”

“So...you’re staying here tonight?” Pierce asked, his hazel eyes moving over Ryder’s face as if he had the plague or something.

“Yeah,” Ryder said. “You have a problem with that?”

“No, but we have people for that.”

“I’m people. I can guard her door if I want to.”

“That’s the part that’s got me confused. You wanting to.”

“What does that mean?”

Pierce pushed a gangly hand through his straight brown bangs. “You never want to...get this close to someone, Ryder. You make it a point not to want to, know what I mean?”

“Look, I’m protecting a woman who got hit over the head by two very nasty men. That’s not exactly a fair fight.”

Realization lightened Pierce’s eyes like a bulb in a dark hallway coming to life. “Oh, now I get it. You’re all about things being fair in life.”

“Yeah, you got a problem with that, too?”

“Nope. But we both know that ain’t how life works.”

Ryder got in Pierce’s face, the frustrations of the day raging through his system. “I’m staying here tonight, Mr. Philosophy. Get over it.”

Pierce shrugged and whirled to leave. “Don’t worry. While you’re being a Guardian of the Galaxy, I’ll be doing all the grunge work on finding the car, the phone, the bad guys. You know, little details that make up a case.”

“Thanks. So sweet of you.”

Ryder turned back to Emma’s room to find her glaring at him. “I don’t need you to stay here with me. I need you to get me out of here. I’ve been through tests, I’m remembering more by the minute and my head has finally stopped throbbing like a sore thumb. I’m okay to leave.”

She’d obviously heard his conversation with Pierce. “The doctor thinks you need to stay awhile longer.”

She fell back against the pillow. “Okay.”

Ryder knew she was biding her time. If he closed just one eye, she’d bolt right past him. Shaking his head, he said, “I’ll just bunk right here in this comfortable recliner.”

“No. You stay outside. Watch the door.”

“No. I’ll stay right here. In this recliner. Throw me a blanket, will you?”

“How did you get so stubborn?”

“That’s a long story.”

“I have nothing but time and a blank mind.”

Ryder shook his head. “You realize that what happened here earlier was another attempt to get to you, right?”

“How can I not realize that? I told you they’d find me. If you hadn’t been here—”

Her aggravated blue-green gaze rippled across his soul like undercurrents of warm, inviting water. Ryder couldn’t go down in that current.

Then she spoke again. “You set me up nicely for that admission, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t set up anything. That’s the facts, and you know it. But now I agree that we need to get you out of here. I will do that, but I need to figure some things out first. So until then, we stay here. Together.”

She tossed him the blanket. “Do you snore?”

“Never.”

“Can we order in?”

“What do you want?”

“I told you—a cheeseburger.”

He could seriously fall for this woman.

“No, we can’t order that in because I’m pretty sure you’d regret it. Probably wise to eat soft foods not so heavy on your system for a few days.”

She slanted her eyes. “Are you speaking from experience?”

“Could be.”

He could read her enough to know that she didn’t want to back down either, but she looked tired and defeated. “Okay, I’ll eat more Jell-O and scrambled eggs. But once I’m out of here—”

“I know just the place,” he replied, grinning. “And I’ll even buy.”

“It’s a date,” Emma said. Then she shook her head. “I mean, not a date. It’s not a date.”

Ryder gave her a mock-sad face. “Okay, I get it. It’s a nondate date. A make-good-on-a-promise kind of date. Because you and me—not a thing. Not gonna happen. Am I right?”

“So right,” she said, her expression determined. “So right.” Then she shifted into not-gonna-happen overdrive. “Even if it did, I’d probably forget that it did.”

“You are cruel,” he said, wagging his finger at her. “But if and when that not-gonna-happen happens, I’ll make sure you remember.”

After she closed her gaping mouth, she recovered nicely. “Stop talking.”

Ryder did a zip swipe across his lips. But he wished they could go on a real date. Wished it and then dismissed it.

Two hours later, Emma woke up to find Ryder still in the recliner, watching over her.

Even though he wouldn’t let her have a cheeseburger, he looked just as yummy as ever, sitting there with his long, jean-clad legs stretched out in front of him and his shirt sleeves rolled up to show off his tanned, hair-dusted forearms.

“Hello, sunshine,” he said, his voice husky. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m under house arrest.”

“That bad, huh? What can I do to help?”

That was a loaded question, considering his sleepy, husky voice and that silky, curly hair. But she thought long and hard on how to answer it.

“Tell me that long story about you,” she said, wanting to fill her mind with details. Wanting to remember what she needed to find. “I want to hear about your life. Maybe not thinking about mine will help me relax.”

“It’s not that exciting,” he said, after taking a sip of soda from a can the nurse must have brought him. “Grew up on a ranch that’s been around since Custer’s last stand and pretty much farmed and worked the land until I became a cop. Crops, livestock, including cattle and horses, the usual Texas overkill.”

“And you loved it, right?”

“I did. I do. I still live there. I sleep in town a lot at headquarters but I get back to the Palace as often as I can.”

“The Palace?” She snorted a laugh. “Think highly of ourselves, do we?”

“Someone named it that long ago and it stuck. It’s always been the Palladin Ranch. Big and bold, but we ain’t fancy. Just my mother and my younger sister and me. We lost my dad a few years ago, but they still live in the main house. I have a cabin around the bend from them.”

“I’m sorry about your dad,” she said, meaning it.

“Yeah, me, too.” He shrugged. “I went into law enforcement because of him. Because of what happened to him.”

Noting the darkness following that statement, she asked, “What did happen...with your dad?”

Thinking a heart attack or stroke, she was shocked when he took a breath and told her the truth. “He was a sheriff. All my life, he was larger than life. Off duty one night and stopped to get gas. Robbed and his truck taken. He tried to stop them but they shot him. He died at the scene.”

Emma put a hand to her mouth. “Ryder, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his smile full of regret. “They caught the man who did it. A career criminal. Won’t see life on the streets for a long time.”

“Good.”

“I always wanted to follow in his footsteps, so I joined the police academy. I wanted to stop the hard-core criminals.”

“You mean the ones like your father’s killer?”

“Yep.”

“So you asked to work Vice?”

“Yep.”

He’d told her more than he’d wanted to tell.

Emma wanted to know more, but his gaze shouted to let it go. “Where is this palatial ranch?”

“Northwest of Fort Worth between Lake Worth and Denton.”

She stopped teasing. “I know Denton. I remember Denton.”

“You’ll figure all of this out soon.”

“I hope.” She noticed he didn’t like to talk in specifics. Because somewhere between Lake Worth and Denton could mean many out-of-the-way places.

Having him near had helped her take her mind off things, but having him near also meant she was still in the thick of this mess. “What do we do now?”

“We wait out the night and see if you remember anything else. Maybe the doc will spring you tomorrow.”

She sat up, a slight throb moving through her temple. “Ryder, when someone is missing, we both know the first few hours are critical. And I’ve already wasted close to forty-eight hours in here.”

“Did you remember something?”

“No, I didn’t remember precisely but...I have this urgency in my gut and it’s telling me I need to get back out there. I have good instincts. I know that somehow.”

“You can’t do anything right now regarding what we might find out there.” He checked his watch, then pulled out his cell. “I had one of the techs do a search for any underage teens reported missing in the last week. I’ll put a fire under him and see if he’s found any names.”

Emma sat watching him work. He had a way about him—smooth, in control, calm—that got other people moving. She’d heard him passing insults with his partner, but the mirth in both their eyes told her they trusted and depended on each other.

Would they help her? Really help her? Or were they using this as part of their sting operation? More evidence against the lowlifes who hung around the Triple B?

She’d also heard his partner questioning Ryder about watching out for her. As in, he didn’t get too close to his subjects or his suspects?

Was he getting close to her, or staying close to her in hopes of finding out what she knew?

Hard to say. Emma closed her eyes and tried to picture her life coming back together, not in puzzle pieces that moved through her head and made it ache all over again. She needed the pieces to fit and make sense.

But nothing more came to the surface.

I’m Emma Langston. I’m a private investigator from Galveston. I have no idea why I’m here. Why? Why did I go to that bar? Who am I looking for?

And why did Bounce and Ounce try to kill her?

Ryder closed his phone. “We have several names and photos of missing teens. This is just in the last week or so. Want to look at them?”

She swallowed, nodded, feared the worst. “Yes.”

But after looking at the photos that came through on his phone and reading the names of the five missing teens—three girls and two boys—in the Dallas/Fort Worth area, Emma fell back against her pillow and closed her eyes for a few seconds before opening them to stare over at Ryder.

“I don’t recognize any of them. And the names don’t ring a bell. What if one of them is the one I’m trying to find, Ryder?”

“People are already on these cases,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean someone didn’t hire you.”

She went cold inside. “What if the parents haven’t listed the teen as missing yet? What if they thought I’d find their child right away?”

“No parent would do that,” he reminded her. “They call the locals right away.”

“And if that didn’t work?”

“They’d call you,” he admitted. “Maybe they called you and the locals don’t know that.”

“That would mean the parents have to be frantic by now.”

He put down his phone. “You look tired, and you won’t be able to focus if you don’t heal. So rest, Emma. Just lie back and go to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Try.”

“Has anyone questioned Bounce and Ounce?”

“We’ve tried. Unavailable. The Triple B has gone on the quiet. No one will dare talk out of fear of getting a bat to their head. But we’re watching the place even more now.”

A nurse came in and gave her a pill. “Just a mild pain pill.” After examining Emma, she asked, “How’s your head pain on a scale of one to ten?”

Emma held the pill cup and replied, “Maybe a three.”

“That’s a good sign but take the acetaminophen anyway.”

Emma didn’t want to take anything that would muddle her memory even more, but the nurse urged her to so she could sleep.

“You people never let up.”

“Our job,” the smiling nurse said. “But you’re improving so much I think you’ll be able to leave soon.”

After the nurse left, Emma looked at Ryder. “Leave? And where do I go from here? I’ve been so intent on getting out I haven’t considered if I had a hotel room anywhere.”

When he didn’t respond, she said, “But then, you’ve already checked the area hotels, right?”

“Right. So far, your name hasn’t come up, but we’ll keep looking. Maybe you checked in under an alias?”

She actually snorted a laugh. “And you expect me to remember that alias?”

“No. We’ll keep at it.”

“I have to find a place to stay,” she said, the thought jarring her head all over again. “I can’t go home not knowing.”

Ryder slanted his gaze toward her, his head tilted. “Well, wherever that is, I won’t be far away. I want to solve this, too. And I want to bring in Bounce and Ounce and slam the jail door on them once and for all.”

“I’ve given you extra work,” she said, glad to know he was on her side.

“Keeps me out of trouble.”

Emma drifted off to sleep with the memory of his determined look and definite tone in her mind.

Ryder was that kind of guy.

He did things the old-fashioned way.

The cowboy way.

Ryder woke with a grunt.

He’d heard something. A slamming noise followed by a crash.

And where was Emma?

Bolting out of the recliner, he called out, “Emma?”

“In here.”

The bathroom door was closed.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes,” came the muffled reply. “But that man on the floor isn’t.”

Ryder whirled when he heard a moan. Rushing to the other side of the bed, he found a tall, athletic man with short platinum hair holding a hand to his head. Ryder drew his gun and yanked the man up.

“Don’t move or I will shoot you,” he said, showing the man his badge before he shoved him against the wall. “Put your hands up.”

The man moaned and did as he asked. “She tried to kill me.”

Emma walked out of the bathroom, her hair disheveled, her eyes flashing. “Well, you tried to stick a needle in my arm. I don’t like needles.”

Ryder frisked the man and found a knife and a hidden pistol strapped to his ankle. Spotting the syringe on the floor by the bed, he read the man his rights and cuffed him.

Whirling the man around, Ryder looked at Emma. “Are you really okay?”

“Yes,” she said, sinking down onto the bed. “I woke up and this visitor came at me with a needle full of clear liquid. I kicked out and hit him toward his...uh...midsection then threw the water jug in his face.”

“And she jammed me with that bed tray thing,” the man said on a whine and a glare.

“She’s good about taking care of things,” Ryder said with a grin at the overturned tray. But his heart flipped and flopped in a delayed panic. He shouldn’t have dozed and he should have stayed outside in front of the door. But he’d wanted to be near her. Just one more reason to stay away from her. Giving Emma a warning stare, he slammed the man back against the wall. “Talk.”

“I got nothin’ to say.”

“You’ll talk, sooner or later,” Ryder said on a soft promise. “I’m thinking soon you’ll be singing like a little bird.”

No ID and an unyielding, cold, dead stare.

“I want a lawyer.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll get one. But for now, you’re mine.”

In a matter of minutes, the hospital once again swarmed with officers. After Pierce and his men took the assailant away, Ryder finally turned to where the doctor was checking Emma.

“Doc, she seems okay to me. I mean, she took down a man who could have easily snapped her neck.”

Dr. Sherrington didn’t smile. “Our patient had improved dramatically but she still has memory issues.”

“I’m taking her to my ranch,” Ryder said, daring either one of them to argue. “My mother happens to be a retired ER nurse.”

“How convenient,” the doctor quipped. He looked down at Emma. “Do you want this man to take you away from me?”

“More than you’ll ever know,” Emma replied. “But he could have cleared it with me first.”

FOUR

Since Emma insisted she was leaving with or without the doctor’s release, the hospital signed her out and Ryder followed her wheelchair. The orderly pushing Emma’s chair had been handpicked by the doctor, and Ryder had two patrol officers flanking them.

They made it to Ryder’s big Chevy without incident, but he kept his gun at the ready until the orderly had helped her into the dark navy truck.

After thanking the nervous hospital attendant, Ryder turned to the two officers. “Thanks. Let me know if you find anything regarding the man we arrested tonight. I’ll be in to question him later.”

“Do you want an escort, Detective?”

“No,” Ryder said. “I’ll be taking the back roads.”

He got inside and glanced over at Emma. She now wore an old gray sweat suit he’d had stashed in the truck. At least the garments were clean, even if she’d had to tie the pants tight and the hoodie hung loose on her. He’d have to find her some more clothes. Meantime, he’d called ahead to warn his mother and sister that they were about to have a houseguest.

“How are you?” he asked once she was settled in.

“I’m having the best time of my life,” she said, her tone solid deadpan, her hands hidden under the cuffs of the hoodie. “Life in Dallas is so much fun I can hardly contain myself.”

Ryder cranked the big truck and the motor roared to life. Her sarcasm matched his own to perfection, which made his frown dig deeper into his bones. “Well, you’re about to leave the city for a while. You can rest and heal in a secluded, safe place.”

“I appreciate being sprung,” she said, “but I don’t intend to rest. Do you have Wi-Fi and modern communications?”

“No, we get by with soup cans wired together and yodeling across the woods.”

“Funny.” She stared out the truck window. “They’ll keep coming. Someone wants me out of the way.”

“Well, I’ll keep pushing right back,” he replied. “We can sit down together tomorrow and try to figure this out, Emma. But you can’t go out there without having a plan and a sense of what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I can’t remember what I’m into, Ryder. It’s frustrating.”

Ryder wanted to reach out to her but knew better. He had to convince her not to run. She’d do it. He could see it in her eyes. “I’ll help you. Whatever you stumbled into surely has something to do with my case. It might even give us the break we need.”

“Whatever I can do to help. Lose my memory. Regain my memory. Badger you. Pray. Rant. Get back at it.”

“Hey,” he said, touching her arm. “Hey, do not do that. They’ll kill you. They’ve already tried three times now. And you dead won’t save whoever you’re trying to help.”

Emma gave him a hard stare and winced as she shook her head. “I’m well aware of that, so why would I want to put your family in danger, too?”

“My family will be okay, trust me.”

Had she picked up on the panic in his voice and misread it? Well, he couldn’t protect her if she went rogue on him. And he couldn’t solve his case if she got in his way.

But Ryder knew his concerns stretched a little further than just duty. He kind of had a thing for her. She was tough and pretty in a striking way and she knew her stuff—or at least she knew the ins and outs of life on the streets and dealing with criminals. She’d fought against two of the meanest lowlifes in Dallas. He liked the entire package, but he wanted to get to know the woman inside that tough package. That unexplainable need shook him up more than anything else that had happened over the last few days.

Yeah, he had a thing for a woman who couldn’t remember why she was here or why someone would want her gone. And he was taking that woman home to his ranch.

There were all kinds of wrongs in that scenario.

But only one right. He didn’t have a choice. He wouldn’t toss her out there to the wolves.

“You aren’t sure about this, are you?” she asked when he didn’t say anything else, her hair falling all around her face in an auburn cascade.

“I’m sure of one thing. I wasn’t about to leave you in that hospital. Now quit trying to outsmart me. You won’t win.”

“Sure of yourself, too, aren’t you?”

“I told you, what I’m doing is the right thing for now. You can’t do this alone. I’m in it all the way.”

“I’m not too happy about that.”

“Well, you can turn that pretty frown upside down. You’ll be safe at the ranch. I have workers who carry weapons for all kinds of protection and...I have a mama who can pack some heat, too. Pretty sure my sister’s had enough target practice to take down a longhorn if need be.”

She absorbed that. “And then there’s you.”

“And then there’s me, yes. I’ll be right there with you. Until we’re done.”

Emma pushed at her hair. The bandage on her head had been changed to a smaller one, and she’d passed most of the tests the doctor wanted her to pass. She was full of stubbornness, which meant she wouldn’t back down until she found the truth.

They had that in common. Ryder figured they had a lot more in common, too. But he didn’t have time to explore such things. He wanted the truth before he made any stupid moves.

He had a feeling once the dam on her memories opened up she’d take off like a jackrabbit. And he might not ever see her again. Dead or alive.

He wanted her alive. So they could have that not-gonna-happen date that he wanted to happen.

Emma didn’t say anything else. She leaned against the glass of the passenger-side window and watched the road.

She was mapping the road signs. He’d do the same if someone was taking him to a strange place.

He only hoped she didn’t map her way off the ranch without him. That could become her last trip, and then they’d never have the answers they needed.

Emma squinted into the dark, tired from the drive and wondering why she didn’t have any energy. But it had already been three days since she’d been hit over the head and left for dead in that alley. Trying to focus on the glowing interstate signs only made her dizzy. She’d figured enough to know they were heading west on I-30 but then he took the truck north above Fort Worth proper. From his vague description of the location, she knew the ranch had to be miles from either the Dallas area or Denton. She’d have to remember the county roads, too.

Grateful to be alive and away from the hospital, where anyone could sneak in and kill her, Emma sighed and tried not to think about the man at the wheel of this monster truck. So she focused on the road signs and wondered about the place where this mysterious man lived. What would that be like?

Soon, she saw signs for Lake Worth and the Trinity River, but Ryder guided the truck away from the subdivisions around the lake and kept going northwest until he finally turned onto a deserted road.

“You do like to get away from the city,” she said. “We’ll be in West Texas if you don’t pull over soon.”

“Impatient to see where I live?”

She lifted up too fast. Dizziness made her blink. “No, just ready to be out of this truck.”

While Ryder turned the truck to the right and slowly guided it up a long gravel lane, she thanked God that his partner had found her. She’d have to thank Pierce Daughtry next time she saw him. If she ever saw him again. When she’d asked Ryder for help, Emma had not factored in his bringing her home to Mama. She’d agreed to come here only to get out of the hospital. She knew how to find her way off a ranch, even one that was gated and apparently had an alarm system and security lights shining on every corner of the house and yard.

The house was two-storied and huge, but it wasn’t a stuffy old palace at all. It looked like a farmhouse but stretched on both sides like a large plantation house. The stark white wooden walls contrasted nicely with the darkly varnished shutters lining the windows. A massive porch wrapped around the bottom level, and smaller balconies finished out the top floor. Two huge mushrooming live oaks bookcased each side of the house and shaded the porches. Crape myrtles lined the driveway and the fence lines. Roses blinked underneath the security lights and heavy shrubs added protection along the white wooden fence lines. It might be tricky to find her way out of here.

“Nice digs, Detective.”

“This is where my mom and sister live. I have a cabin down near the pond.”

He had mentioned that, but she turned to him as he pulled the roaring truck up to the side of the house. “Oh, a lone wolf?”

“A man can only take so much bickering and chattering about hairstyles, shoes, gaining weight and losing boyfriends.”

“Do you actually allow you sister to date?”

“I wouldn’t call it allow. More like I don’t have much choice, but I have them all vetted and if I don’t like what I see, I have my way of stating my case.”

“Does your sister know you do background checks on her boyfriends?”

“The subject hasn’t come up.”

Probably because he’d threaten any man after his sister within an inch of his life if Ryder didn’t like the man.

Emma didn’t understand her keen need to banter with this cowboy. But something was sure stewing between them. Probably just the apprehension connected to this case, all those variables that should add up but didn’t. Was it natural to want to kiss him and then leave him?

I can’t think about him. Not in that way. He’s here to help me until I don’t need him anymore.

Then she had to wonder. Is that what I do to people? Use them and lose them so things don’t get messy?

“Hey, are you okay?” Ryder asked, jarring her out of the non-memories that held back with a sad edge.

“Just taking it all in. I don’t like depending on other people.”

“I can see that, but could you just let me help you? Don’t try to do this on your own when you’re still confused and disoriented, okay?”

Could he read her mind? Of course. He was a detective after all. Used to people figuring out ways to get away from him.

“Am I under house arrest here, too?”

“No, but you are under protective custody. My protection.”

“Not your custody, though. You can’t force me to stay here.”

Before he could respond, the front door of the house swung open and an older woman with shoulder-length grayish hair came out onto the porch. “Ryder, bring her on inside. It’s hot and muggy out here.”

Emma glanced at the truck’s still-glowing dashboard clock. It had taken almost an hour to get here. “Midnight. Your mother is up late.”

“She never sleeps,” he said. Then he got out of the truck and came around to her door.

“Must run in the family,” Emma retorted, opening the door before he could.

“Hello there, I’m Nancy Palladin,” the woman said as she greeted Emma by placing both of her warm hands over the one Emma extended. Nancy wore a blue T-shirt over worn jeans and boots.

“Hi,” Emma said, fatigue tugging at her. “Thank you so much for allowing me to...stay here.”

“Nonsense,” Nancy said. “We don’t get many visitors, and it’s a rare day when my son brings home a pretty woman.”

“Mama,” Ryder said, clearly uncomfortable with that comment, “this is Emma. Is her room ready?”

“Of course,” his mother replied, letting go of Emma’s hand to take her by the arm. “C’mon in and we’ll get you settled. We can get acquainted in the morning.”

Emma followed Mrs. Palladin into the house where the huge entryway led to big rooms on both sides, one a den with a massive fireplace and the other a formal living room. The wide staircase stretched beyond the entry and central hallway.

The house was lit with muted lamps here and there but Emma had seen enough to tell it was well maintained and comfortable, and it smelled of spices and lavender.

“We have two guest rooms downstairs,” Nancy explained. “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.” She stopped and waited for Emma. “I elevated the pillows on your bed. That’s important after a head trauma. No reading, online browsing or texting, and no exercising. If you wake with a headache, take your meds. You might have trouble sleeping, but that’s normal. And your emotions will be all over the map, so just go with it for a few days. Mainly you need to rest.”

“I feel as if I’m back in the hospital,” Emma said with a smile. “Ryder told me you’re a retired nurse.”

“And a bossy one,” Ryder added, nodding. “Mom, she doesn’t have a phone or a laptop, so she has no choice but to rest.”

“Good.” Nancy turned to Ryder. “And I fixed up the room across from Emma, just as you asked.”

“What?” Emma said, turning to face Ryder. “You’re staying here tonight?”

“Yes,” he said, daring her to complain.

She complained anyway. “I don’t need you across the hall from me.”

“Yes, you do,” he retorted. “It’s late and you need to rest. My sister, Stephanie, found you some pajamas and an outfit for tomorrow. I’ll take you to your room.”

“I can take care of things myself,” she retorted, trying to find a suitable reason to ditch him.

“I’m going to be across the hall,” he replied, stubborn all over his face. “And that’s that.” Then to push the matter home, he added, “My family is here, too. I have to watch out for all of you.”

Since he had a point, Emma didn’t want to make a scene in front of the man’s mother. “All right,” she said. “I just want to go to sleep.”

Then she turned to Nancy. “Thank you again. I’ll be more human tomorrow, I hope.”

Nancy chuckled and glanced at her son. “I understand so much more now than I did before.”

Emma saw the exchange between mother and son. But she wasn’t sure she liked what that exchange implied.

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