Where is Skye Colton?

One woman’s disappearance rocks Roaring Springs

When he finds a half-dead woman stranded in his barn, rancher Leo Slattery feels his blood run cold. Though she can’t remember who she is, she insists someone is trying to kill her. With his strong protective streak, Leo brings her into the fold and helps her heal. As they begin to solve the mystery of Jane Doe’s identity, a would-be killer works to eliminate her—forever.

Bestselling author ANNA J. STEWART was the girl on the playground spinning in circles waiting for her Wonder Woman costume to appear or knotting her hair like Princess Leia. A Stephen King fan from early on, she can’t remember a time she wasn’t making up stories or had her nose stuck in a book. She currently writes sweet and spicy romances for Mills & Boon, spends her free time at the movies, at fan conventions or cooking and baking, and spends almost every night wrangling her two kittens, Rosie and Sherlock, who love dive-bombing each other from the bed…and other places. Her house may never be the same.

Also by Anna J. Stewart

Reunited with the P.I.

More Than a Lawman

Gone in the Night

The Rancher’s Homecoming

Always the Hero

A Dad for Charlie

Recipe for Redemption

The Bad Boy of Butterfly Harbour

Christmas, Actually

The Christmas Wish

Holiday Kisses

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Colton on the Run

Anna J. Stewart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09433-7

COLTON ON THE RUN

© 2019 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2019

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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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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For Kathryn Lye.

For the vote of confidence and the many laughs.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

About the Publisher

Chapter 1

A thin beam of sunlight streamed against her aching, heavy lids.

She blinked. The simple, ordinary action sent blades of pain slicing through her head. Her stomach churned as bile rose in her throat. She cried out, but the sound barely reached her own ears, caught behind the taut tape stretched across her mouth. Her eyes widened before blurring against the dim light. She tried to tug her arms forward, but they wouldn’t move. Her wrists strained against the rough rope wrapped so tight she couldn’t feel her fingers.

Her mind cleared, but in stages, slowed by the pain and confusion coursing through her. Her ears buzzed. Her head throbbed. Gray tinged the edge of her vision as she tried to hold on to consciousness.

Something harsh and scratchy scraped against the side of her face as she rolled from her side onto her back. The smell of rotting, moldy hay and old dirt made her choke and lose her breath. Above the ringing in her ears, she heard the chill-inducing scrapings of tiny paws and claws skittering as creatures darted back to their hiding places.

Other than that... She took a deep breath and held it. The world pounded in silence.

Her heart vibrated like a jackhammer against her chest, competing with the earsplitting thudding in her head. Long tendrils of hair caught across her sweaty face and obscured her vision as she winced up at the gaping, worn holes of what must have once been a shed.

She turned her head, scanning the room in the dimming light. Old, warped slats of wood sagged against one another as if about to surrender. Rough, uneven, knotted planks gouged splinters into the sides of her hands, through the fabric of her shirt and deep into the skin on her back as she shifted position. The more she moved, the more every inch of her body ached and burned. Angry, frightened tears she couldn’t hold back trailed down her cheeks. She closed her eyes, desperately searching her memory for how she’d gotten here. What had happened? Where was she? Who had done this to her?

A new tendril of fear curled up from her toes, twining through her body, choking the air from her lungs.

She didn’t know. She had no answers for any of those questions. She had...nothing. A sob escaped her control. Her mind was empty.

Don’t cry. She squeezed her eyes tighter until all she could feel was the pain in her head. Can’t cry. Crying won’t help. Nothing would help except getting out of wherever she was and maybe, hopefully, finding someone to help her.

Help. There was no help to be found here. She had only herself to rely on.

Stop panicking! Giving in to hysteria would only muddle her brain and make it even more difficult to breathe. Breathe. In. Out. In...out.

It took minutes, each passing second echoing in her skull like a sledgehammer against her brain, but she was able to force herself to relax. Muscle by muscle, extremity by extremity. She took a long, shaky breath and turned her head one way, then the other, attempting to get her bearings. A small, square, grime-covered window was situated above a forlorn rider mower with a deflated tire. A table saw, tools and equipment that looked to have been stashed there back at the turn of the century sat against the wall. Ropes, twine and tools hung suspended from rotting cords and blackened or rusted nails. She pushed herself up, dragged her sore legs under her, her bare feet scraping against the raw wood.

Bare feet. She didn’t even have on shoes. She squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to think where they might be.

Breath heavy in her chest, she pushed forward onto her knees. Her legs trembled as she stood, pulling first one foot, then the other, under her. She swayed. Her head spun and her stomach churned as nausea rolled deep and strong. She braced her feet apart, took long, deliberate breaths. She couldn’t afford to vomit. She’d suffocate for sure.

Turning in slow, determined circles, she squinted into the growing darkness to scope out her surroundings. To memorize every detail.

The sun was dipping fast, taking with it her only chance at visibility. She needed to escape before whoever had left her here came back. And they were coming back. They knew she was still alive; why else would they have tied her up and gagged her? They didn’t want her making noise, didn’t want her bringing attention to herself. Which meant she couldn’t be too far from civilization. Right?

Curling her bare, polish-chipped toes into the dirt-caked floorboards, she took a step forward and focused on walking. One step, two. Her legs burned. Another step and then another. The thin thread of light caught against a metal circle with rusted, razor-sharp edges. A quick survey of the shovels, spades and trowels gave her little hope by comparison. She tugged at her arms again, hoping the rope digging into her wrists had given way, but they remained as tight as before.

She arched her back, shook her head to whip her hair behind her shoulders and took a cautious step, angling her bound hands toward the exposed blade of the table saw. Slowly, even as her fear screamed at her to hurry, she attempted to stretch out her numb fingers until she felt the blade against her skin. Her shoulders strained and her thighs burned as she stooped to press the rope solidly against the jagged edges of the saw blade.

Forward, back, up, down. She kept a steady rhythm, increasing her speed when she heard the rope begin to rip. Her hands slipped and the blade sliced against the newly exposed skin. Ouch! She sucked in a breath, choked, but kept cutting. The dizziness was getting worse. Her stomach hurt as it clenched around the rising nausea and panicked pressure.

When her hands finally broke free, she nearly face-planted on the floor. She caught herself on the wall with one hand, digging her broken nails into the soft wood, then tugged at the corner of the tape across her mouth.

She whimpered as the adhesive clung to her cheeks and lips, then, irritated with herself, she ripped it off in one violent yank. This time she surrendered to the urge to bend over, retching even as she gripped the splintering stud of the wall and dragged in lung-expanding air.

Pushing her hair out of her face, she looked down and then caught her shirt between blood-caked fingers. The white silk shirt and linen pants were covered in dirt, grime and now her blood. Her left pant leg was shredded, as if she’d encountered a wild animal at some point. A circular bruise around one ankle began to throb.

Darkness wouldn’t be her friend. She needed to get out, away from here, and put as much distance as she could between herself and this place. She spun back to the stash of tools that would have been of benefit to a gardener or farmer, but certainly not a woman in need of aid and defense.

Although...

She bit her lip and lifted a pair of shears free of their hook. After a few attempts, she managed to get the rusted blades open, then headed for the rickety door across the room. She pressed down on the latch and pulled.

Nothing happened. The wood creaked. She tried again, more forcefully. Her entire body shook as she desperately willed the latch to yield. The metal hinges strained, but the door didn’t budge. Anger swamped the frustration mounting inside her, and she pounded a fist against the door before turning to brace her back against it. She hit it again, this time with two fists, as she turned her attention to the shadowy window above the forgotten equipment.

Ignoring the pain in her feet and pushing the garden shears into the back waistband of her pants, she darted across the room again and grabbed hold of the table saw and pulled it out of the way so she could get to the mower. She could feel the rough metal of the shears pressing against her lower spine and shivered. Pulling a long-handled shovel free of its fellow tools, she plowed it through the window and shattered most of the glass. Then she circled the shovel around to clear the opening before tossing it aside and brushing shards of glass off the ripped seat of the mower. A second later, she stepped onto the cushion. Cooler air burst through the window like a slap, a slap she welcomed as it cleared her head. She pulled the shears free and threw them outside before pushing herself through and dropping to the ground.

She hit harder than expected, hard enough to make her head spin, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. She rolled and shoved herself to her feet, grabbed the shears and, after taking a moment to get her bearings, dived into the shrubs. Trees lurched up and around, shielding her both from the elements but also the dwindling light. Branches and overgrown shrubs obscured just how dense and deep the wooded area around the shed was. Heart pounding, she circled to the front of the cabin, where she found fresh tire tracks heading down the unpaved, dirt road.

There, in the distance, a dilapidated cabin erupted from the tree line, made of the same rotting wood as the shed. The out-of-control flora told her the land was uninhabited. Or at least appeared to be. She couldn’t take a chance. Whoever had left her in that shed might be inside. She needed to move!

She was already shivering as the temperature seemed to drop by the second. Her feet and toes had gone numb, either from cold or from pain. There had to be some kind of road that would lead her to civilization or at the very least help. Her head aching, her wrists still burning, she quickly tied her hair in a knot at the base of her neck and headed into the woods beside the road. She’d follow it. And hope she’d find safety at the end.

* * *

Minutes, hours, or had it been days already? The nausea had returned, the physical manifestation of panic and fear, churning in her empty stomach. Sweat, blood and anxiety mingled on her skin.

Whatever adrenaline boosted her through the window faded fast. Her headache was getting worse, but at least her hands and wrists had stopped bleeding. She found herself wondering about a tetanus shot, but that thought passed through her mind as quickly as the sun dipped out of sight and the air grew cooler, leaving the humidity behind.

Her vision was blurring, and she could hear herself breathing as if she’d been sucking on a scuba tank’s regulator. The bottoms of her feet had gone numb as she crunched her way through the woods and whatever else in the direction she’d chosen. Because her arms and legs were getting heavy, she’d stuck the shears back into the waistband of her pants so she could grab hold of the trees as she passed.

She licked her desert-dry mouth. Whatever her life had been before the shed, obviously she’d never taken any survival training, otherwise she wouldn’t feel so completely lost and inept. Even without a memory, life-saving techniques would have stuck...wouldn’t they? What she wouldn’t give to sleep. Just for a few minutes. Just to reboot and regain her energy. Of course, she’d take some water as a second choice. Water. She stumbled, tripping over a thick vine. She landed hard on her chest, the shears pinching into her back, the breath driven out of her.

She braced her hands. Her fingers squished in the mud. For a moment, she thought about staying here. Just...surrendering. But a voice, hers, but not hers, echoed in the back of her mind. Get up! Keep moving! You aren’t dying here. You’re not giving up!

There! Ever so faint, she heard it. The distant echo of an engine. Of a car passing by. And another car. Traffic! She squinted into the distance. Was she imagining the flash of headlights? Was she seeing only what she wanted? Had she finally lost her mind? Or had she somehow found exactly what she needed?

She couldn’t stop now. Not when she might be so close. She shoved herself up and staggered forward, pushing herself from tree to tree. The two-lane road opened up in front of her like an oasis in the desert, but there were no headlights to be found. She stood on the side of the road, her breathing ragged, and, shielding her eyes to narrow her vision, peered into the distance. First one direction. Then the other.

Her blood ran cold.

Spinning lights—red and blue—cut through the night.

Fear clamped hard around her throat. The sob that erupted came up from her toes—a chill of terror arcing through her as if she’d stuck her finger in a socket. Not that way. Not that...

Irrational terror shot through her. She spun, ready to dart across the road, race away in the opposite direction. The sound of squealing brakes, the flash of bright white paint and blinding headlights had her shielding her eyes. The truck skidded to a halt, veering slightly, but not enough. The front bumper grazed her thighs and she jumped back, frozen as she stared through the windshield. The shocked gaze of a teenager stared back at her. Her breathing ragged, she backed away.

He shoved his door open, jumped out of the car. “Are you all right? I’m so sorry, I didn’t see... Hey! Where are you going? I think you might be hurt!”

She ran. She ran as fast as she could. Ran away from the truck. Ran across the road and scrambled into the protection of the trees.

Away from the spinning, colored lights she feared more than the night.

* * *

It had been three months since Leo Slattery had returned to Roaring Springs, Colorado. Three months since he’d dropped his duffel containing everything he owned onto the front porch of his grandparents’ farmhouse. Three months and he was still getting used to the quiet.

Ollie, his grandfather’s German shepherd, returned to his side after having finished his breakfast and plopped his behind on the linoleum floor. Leo smiled down at his only companion these days, a zing of energy coursing through him.

After growing up off and on at this ranch, he’d spent the majority of his post-high-school years working oil rigs and pipelines up in Alaska. The absence of whining, grinding machinery, workmen’s yells, and the clangs and bangs of metal against metal took getting used to. He wouldn’t have thought it would be difficult to acclimate to the quiet of his grandparents’ ranch.

The morning began as it always did, with Leo standing at Grandma Essie’s favorite spot—the kitchen window—sipping fresh-brewed coffee as he stared out at the sun peeking up over the glorious mountains on a late-July morning. A sad smile curved his lips as he could hear Essie’s soft, commanding voice echoing through the house she had run with a general’s attention to detail and a gentle, guiding hand. A former army nurse who had left the service after falling hard for navy man Isaac Slattery, this house had been Essie’s pride and joy, while the ranch and the land had been his grandfather’s.

Now the ranch—all of it—was Leo’s.

Unease and grief percolated low and deep in his belly. Some days he still couldn’t believe they were gone. His grandfather had passed of a stroke while out tending the herd late last year, his grandmother only four months later, in her sleep. Their longtime foreman had found her lying in bed, on her side, her hand placed over the spot where Isaac had slept beside her for more than fifty years.

Tethered, Leo had thought when he’d received the news. His grandfather had always declared he and Essie were tethered at the heart; they weren’t meant to be here without one another. And so they’d gone on. Leaving their legacy and all their hard work to their only surviving grandchild. A grandchild who, once his contract expired up north, headed back to the only place he’d ever called home.

“Time to get a start on the day.” Leo’s declaration had Ollie whining in anticipation, and the dog trotted over to the back door to wait. He filled a thermos with the last of the coffee, grabbed a stale bagel left from the grocery run he’d made early last week and shrugged into his grandfather’s old, long suede riding jacket. Isaac’s hat was an afterthought as Leo inhaled the aroma of his grandfather’s cigars—the only thing Isaac and Essie had ever argued about.

Leo took a deep breath of cool morning air once outside. What he wouldn’t give to hear their teasing bickering again. Or to see his grandfather’s dark, obsidian eyes glimmer with love as he gazed upon the woman he’d fallen for at first sight.

He closed the back door behind him and headed for the stable to saddle Duke while Ollie raced to the barn several yards away, no doubt to hunt down that pesky cat that had been lurking around the smaller structure a few days before. The dog was still excited to be back home after being boarded with a foster family after Essie’s death. One of Leo’s many regrets was that he hadn’t been able to claim the dog sooner so they could grieve their loss together.

There were days he wished he had someone to share this life with, someone besides his canine companion, but who had the time to go through all that when there was work to be done. Work that at times took him from sunrise to sunset.

“You’ll do for now, won’t you, Duke?” Rotating among the four horses his grandfather had kept when he’d downsized a few years back seemed the appropriate way for Leo to go about things, but there was something about the chestnut gelding that always called to Leo. Maybe it was that he’d been Essie’s favorite, too. Maybe it was that he could feel the horse grieving his grandparents’ loss as much as he did. Or maybe he had been spending far too much time alone out here on the seemingly endless two thousand acres.

“Won’t be alone for long, though.” Leo grunted as he saddled up Duke, then gave the other horses a good-morning pat. He had his eye on a truckload of new cattle by the end of the year, and he’d need additional help to keep the ranch running smoothly. His grandfather’s foreman had stayed long enough to get Leo acclimated, help with the season’s hay cutting and storage, then retired to spend the rest of his days in New Mexico. The other ranch hands had moved on, as well.

Which just left Leo and Gwen, his grandfather’s right-hand woman for the past four years. Part horse whisperer, Gwen had put herself through school as a large-animal veterinary assistant. The thirty-two-year-old was currently on safari in Africa, an extended honeymoon with her bride, Lacey.

Only problem with taking care of fifty head of cattle on his own was that by the time he got back from ranch duties, all he wanted to do was curl up with dinner and a book.

His hope that by the time Gwen and Lacey returned he’d have at least one of the outbuildings ready for them to move into was a fading hope, despite it being the perfect enticement for Gwen to accept the promotion. Until then...

With such a small herd, Leo didn’t need to be spending the extra money on help when he could handle things himself. But once that count quadrupled and grew, well, Gwen was going to be thrilled she’d had a vacation.

“You up for a morning run, Duke?” Leo ran his hand down the gelding’s nose. “I know I am.”

A sharp bark exploded from the direction of the barn. Duke neighed and stomped back. “That’s just Ollie,” Leo reminded the horse even as his own curiosity piqued. The German shepherd wasn’t normally quick to bark and certainly wasn’t easily spooked. “I bet he’s gotten himself tangled up again.” The still-young pup had a tendency of playing with ropes left lying around. On the bright side, Leo would bet the dog could win his share of knot-tying contests.

“I’d best go see what’s going on. You wait for me here, okay?” As if the horse was going to go anywhere. Other than to the feed bag Leo had filled the second he came into the stable. Chuckling to himself, he looped the reins around the hitching post and headed to the barn.

Ollie’s barking was getting louder. Leo found him just inside the door of the barn, at attention, nose pointed to the back corner where the hay was piled as high as the second story. “What’s going on, boy?” He bent down to scrub the dog’s undercoat. “Something got you spooked? You find that mean old cat you were chasing the other day?”

Leo froze at the rustling in the corner. That wasn’t any cat. And that barely there whimper set his ears on alert.

“Whoever you are—” Leo rose to his feet “—I don’t mean any harm, but you need to be moving on.”

More rustling. More scrambling. Metal scraping against the plank siding.

“I mean it.” He moved forward, Ollie close beside him growling low in the back of his throat. “I know it was cold out last night and you probably needed a place to—” he rounded the back of the hay bales “—sleep.” Whatever else he was planning to say evaporated from his mind. The woman crouching in the corner of the barn stared back at him with wide-eyed fear. “Hello.”

Was it possible to be perfectly coherent and still think he was imagining things? The woman huddled before him had hair the color of a summer bonfire, bright red with copper-and-gold highlights. Hair that was tangled around her shoulders and her face. A beautiful face that reminded him of his grandmother’s bisque china collection. Delicate but sturdy enough to withstand the trembling coursing through her. Dark blood had trickled down the side of her face to soak the once-white silk blouse. Silk? Out here on the outskirts of town? Her equally bright slacks were torn and muddy, and her filthy bare feet were covered with cuts and scrapes.

The dazed expression in her eyes triggered every protective instinct within Leo. He crouched, trying to make himself appear as small as possible as he continued his assessment. Beneath and around the grime on her face, he could see the distinct impression of a large hand—a welt that had bled, but not as profusely as the gash on her head. The way her shirt was ripped told him it hadn’t been the result of errant branches or trees but by angry, determined hands.

Had she been raped?

Leo swallowed his fury. Whatever had happened, she didn’t need anger or outrage. She needed calm understanding. She needed his help...and his protection. He forced himself to relax, to act as if they were doing nothing more than meeting over coffee at the diner in town. Ollie finally relaxed and sat down, then looked from Leo to the woman.

She shifted, only slightly, and the rusted garden shears in her hands glinted in the morning sunlight streaming through the upper opening of the barn. He remained still, his hand deep in Ollie’s fur.

“You’re hurt.” He kept his voice low. Soft. Gentle.

She flinched. And nodded once.

“Was there an accident? Were you in a car?” He resisted the urge to look behind him to scan outside, but he would have noticed a vehicle in the vicinity.

Her fingers went white around the shears.

“Were you alone?” He tried again. “Is someone else hurt? I should go call—” He shifted back, turned as if about to stand and felt her hand grip his arm. Leo tried to ignore the instant jolt that shot straight through him as if she’d dived at him, as if she’d jump-started his dormant heart.

Ollie growled, moved in, sniffed the woman’s hand and, after a moment, pushed his nose solidly against her arm as if demanding a pet. Given Ollie was a pretty good judge of character, Leo relaxed.

“Please.” Her voice was barely a whisper before she cleared it. “Please don’t call anyone. I just need—” She frowned as if uncertain of what she needed, but then she released his arm. However, instead of regripping the shears, she placed her trembling hand on Ollie’s determined head. Tears glimmered in her eyes. “Pretty dog.”

Ollie blinked over at Leo as if to verify his master had heard the compliment.

“Best dog around.” The only dog at the moment, Leo added silently. At least with Ollie his unexpected visitor seemed a bit more at ease. “Can you tell me what happened to you?” He reached a hand out to her face, determined to check how badly she’d been struck, but she flinched. “I won’t hurt you...” He waited for her to tell him her name.

Instead, all he got was a blank, brown, doe-eyed stare.

“All right...you can tell me later,” he murmured. “I’m Leo. Leo Slattery. You’re on my ranch.” He considered offering his hand, but didn’t want to pressure her. She wasn’t in any condition to be on her own, and one wrong move on his part would have her scurrying away. “Would you like to come inside? You can get cleaned up and something to eat. Something to drink. Coffee? Water?” Maybe once she was over the shock of whatever had happened to her, she’d be ready for him to call for help.

Leo glanced around for a bag, a cell phone, anything she might have that would help tell him who she was without him having to push for her to trust him. He didn’t see anything.

“W-water,” she choked out. “Water would be nice.”

Polite. Polished. Beautiful. Leo shook the last thought loose before it could grab hold. “Water I can do.” He inclined his head toward the door. “House is close by. Would you like me to show you?” Now he did reach out his hand. She stared at his hand for a long moment before slowly taking hold. He rose to his feet. She glanced down at the dog before rising. “Ollie can come, too. And you can bring those. If you want.”

She looked down at the shears still clutched in her other hand. An odd sound erupted from the back of her throat as she dropped them, covered her mouth and stared as if she didn’t understand why she had them.

It was all Leo could do not to sweep her into his arms, carry her inside and tend to her wounds. But he’d have to be blind not to see the physical signs of trauma were nothing compared to what was going on inside her head. What she needed most right now was to feel safe, to feel comfortable. To feel in control. Only then would he be able to help her.

He expected her to move away from him once they were outside, perhaps even race off and disappear into the sunrise. Instead, she curled her hand tighter around his and walked—or rather limped—beside him back to the house.

* * *

“I need to go get my horse back in his stall,” Leo told her as she sat at the kitchen table. In his grandmother’s chair. The thought brought a smile to his lips even as he wished Essie was here to help him. Help her. He poured the woman a glass of water and set it on the table. “I’ll be back in just a few minutes, all right? Ollie, stay.” He didn’t often command the dog, but Ollie moved in closer to the woman and bumped his nose against her leg.

The ghost of a smile played across her full lips as she returned to petting the dog.

“Okay. Just a few minutes.” Leo hurried back to the barn, found Duke exactly where he expected and led the now cranky horse back to his stall. “Gonna be a bit of a delay, I’m afraid.” Not to mention he’d have to head out later than he wanted to fix that downed fence on the eastern pasture. But he wasn’t about to leave the woman alone for long. At least not until he knew more about her. He certainly wasn’t going to just abandon her. His grandmother would have had a fit. “We’ll get you out and running later, Duke. Promise.”

The horse neighed.

Leo returned to the house and found his visitor sitting where he’d left her, her hand gently stroking Ollie’s back, her brown-eyed stare vacant and confused. But she’d drunk the water. That was good. “Okay, then.” He glanced at the phone on the wall. “I think maybe I should call the sheriff—”

“No!” She all but catapulted off the chair, stumbling forward to stop him from lifting the receiver. “No, please. No police. No hospital. I don’t want to see anyone. I’ll go. I’ll leave if you want. But I...” She pushed her hair away from her face and exposed the determination hovering behind the fear in her eyes. “Please. I don’t want anyone to know where I am.”

“All right.” Leo hadn’t been sure in the barn, but now he was. He recognized that barely restrained panic, that fright and flight response he’d grown up with. His father’s bouts of PTSD after returning home from Iraq had taught Leo early on that the mind was something that shouldn’t be played with. At least not before a modicum of trust had been established. “But I want you to tell me something. And I need you to tell me the truth. Can you do that?”

She nodded.

“Have you been raped?”

She blinked. “No.” She winced, inclined her head as if giving the question more thought. “No. Nothing hurts or feels odd there.”

“Okay, that’s good.” A breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding released. “If that’s the case, we’ll hold off on calling the authorities. For now. But how about your name?” He couldn’t stop himself. He reached out and caught her hair between his fingers, tucked it behind her ear so he could get a better look at the gash on her head. It had stopped bleeding at least. But it needed tending to. “Can you tell me who you are?”

“No.” There was that whisper again. Not quite as desperate, however. This time, tinged with a bit of anger. “I’ve been trying and trying, but I don’t know. I’m sorry.” She winced, then pressed a hand against the bridge of her nose. “All I have is this headache that won’t go away. There’s nothing else. Not in here.” She poked a not so gentle finger against her temple. “Why can’t I remember?”

“Okay, let’s not add to the damage.” He caught her hand and pressed it gently back to her side. “We’ll come back to that later. Sit back down. Let’s get you some more water.” He poured another glass and watched as she finished it. Ollie followed him to the sink and back, as if verifying what he was doing was for the best. Leo pulled a chair over so they were knee to knee. “Do you remember my name?”

“Leo. Your name is Leo. That’s Ollie.” She pointed to the dog.

“Nice that you didn’t get us confused.”

She smiled a little. “How can I not know who I am? It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know...anything.”

Shock. Trauma. And that bang on the head couldn’t have done much to help. “You will. You’ve had a shock. Something you aren’t able to process right now.” He held his hands out palm up, and after a moment she dropped hers into them. “How about for now I call you Jane?”

“Like Jane Doe?” She let out the most unladylike snort he’d ever heard. A sound that lightened his heart more than anything had in a long time. “That’s original.”

“My grandmother was the writer, not me.” Essie’s letters had been a continuous gift while he’d been working in Alaska. He still had them all bundled, no longer in his duffel, but on his dresser. “I didn’t get one ounce of her creativity. Is Jane okay?”

She shrugged. “It’s better than nothing.”

“A rave review indeed,” Leo joked. “Are you hungry? I’ve got some eggs I can cook. And, um, some steaks. I bet you don’t eat steak much.” Given her slight figure, he’d bet she didn’t eat much of anything. A good summer breeze would probably blow her off the property.

“Eggs sound good. I can help.”

Leo glanced down at her ragged and broken nails, but given the high shine on that coral polish, he’d bet she’d had her share of manicures. “I’d prefer you didn’t. Not until we know what’s going on with that knock on your head. How about I run upstairs and see about finding you some clothes? Then you can take a shower and we’ll tend to that gash on your head. And your wrists.” He turned her hands over and tried not to wince at the angry welts, scrapes and cuts marring her skin. “I’m betting those feet of yours hurt a bit, too.”

“Not really.” She scrunched her toes into the wood floor. “They’re numb.”

He was afraid of that, but toward the end of summer she was less likely to end up with frostbite, something he’d become more than acquainted with up north. “All the more reason to get you into the shower. Sound okay?”

She chewed on her bottom lip and nodded. “Yes. Okay. Thank you, Leo.”

He led her to the bedroom closest to the kitchen, the small guest room his grandmother had always kept made up. It had its own small bathroom with an old-fashioned, claw-foot tub, pedestal sink and a corner shower stall he could never fit into. The bed was old, nothing fancy other than the simple wooden headboard, but serviceable and comfortable with its thick handmade quilt thrown over the double mattress. The added photographs of Leo and his family from various stages of the last twenty-seven years added to the homey feel. “Are you okay by yourself?”

“Yes.” Ah, now there was a genuine smile. One that sparked her previously dormant eyes as she looked up at him. “I’ll call if I need help.” She looked down at her ripped shirt. The frown was back. “Why can’t I remember what happened to me?”

“You will. Don’t push it,” Leo urged as he backed out of the room. “It’ll come, Jane. Whoever you are, whatever happened, you’ll remember. And we’ll deal with it together. Give me a few minutes to find you some clothes.”

He nearly stepped on Ollie when he turned to head upstairs. “Well, boy. Looks like we have company for a little bit. Hope that’s okay with you.”

Ollie chuffed as he circled Leo and sank to the floor, stretching across the doorway into Jane’s room.

“You let me know if she needs anything.”

Ollie blinked up at him and Leo sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead.

Today was definitely going to be one for the books.

Chapter 2

If only the water could wash away the fear.

Jane—she didn’t feel like a Jane—scooped warm water into her hands and pushed it over her tangled hair. She turned one side of her face into the spray of the shower, then the other, grimacing as the gash on her head protested. Looking down, she saw the water turn dark, tinged with blood as it cascaded off her body, swirling into the drain as if taking what had happened to her with it.

But something had happened. Something she couldn’t remember. She tucked her arms tight around her waist. Whatever did happen had robbed her of her memory, and now she had no inkling of who or what she was.

It crossed her mind to bang her skull against the white tile wall in the hopes of jarring something loose, but she didn’t want to alarm Leo or Ollie.

Leo.

Jane moved deeper into the spray and let the water pound over her ears. Finding the barn last night had seemed like heaven on earth. A solitary floodlight had blinked on as she’d approached from the cover of the trees and she’d stopped, frozen as if caught in a spotlight. But the flash of light had given her enough to see by so she could squeeze through the open door. The night hadn’t cooled off much, but she couldn’t stop shivering as she’d made her way into the back corner, digging and pushing her way through the hay until she’d collapsed.

Jane had lost track of the miles she’d walked. And had no clue of the direction she’d come from. If anyone were to ask her where she’d been held, she’d never be able to tell them, other than that it was near a road that led...somewhere.

When she fell asleep, she’d fallen hard and deep, and hadn’t awakened until she’d heard Ollie’s bark cutting through the peaceful silence.

“Jane.” A gentle knock sounded on the bathroom door. She jumped and nearly slipped. “I’ve left some clothes for you to wear on the bed, okay?”

“Yes.” She gripped her fingers against the tiles. Leo. It was just Leo. Leo Slattery, who, for whatever reason, didn’t evoke that sense of unrestrained fear she’d been harboring since she awoke in that shed.

Leo with the kind, dark, soulful eyes. The slightly unkempt, slightly curly hair that tempted her to reach out and brush her fingers through it. He was a beautiful man, probably more beautiful that he’d ever be comfortable with her thinking. But it was that gentle, understanding smile he’d offered upon seeing her that had soothed the bruises around her heart. That and the way he’d held her hand.

As if he’d protect her from whatever was out there. Whatever was to come.

And something was out there. Something was coming. She could...feel it.

Dark. Dangerous. Almost as if she were prey in a hunter’s sights. She shuddered. A hunter with an agenda she couldn’t begin to fathom. Why her? Why had this happened to her?

And what was she going to do about it? She couldn’t explain the abject terror that struck at the thought of calling the police, and going to the hospital would only result in the same. She didn’t know much at the moment, but she knew enough to trust her instincts and right now her instinct told her the only person she was safe with was Leo.

Beneath the warmth of the water, she shivered and focused on ridding herself of the last of the mud, dirt and blood. The soap and shampoo smelled of wildflowers and honeysuckle. For an instant, she flashed on the image of a luxurious spa reminiscent of... Jane frowned. France? Why on earth would she be reminded of France out here in the middle of—

She hadn’t even asked Leo where she was. Other than the obvious—that she was on a ranch in the rural countryside—she had no notion of her actual whereabouts. She turned her hands over, watched the water cascade over broken nails and scraped skin. Leo had looked at her hands. Had he seen what she saw? She chipped at the polish that remained before dragging her fingers through her hair.

A few minutes later, she stood in front of the small mirror above the sink, wrapped in a buttercup-yellow towel and dragging a fine-tooth comb through the knots and snarls in her hair. Staring at herself, tears blurred her eyes. The face was unknown. It was her, but not. She traced gentle fingers over the welt on her face. The ghostly image of a handprint marring her cheek had broken through; the raw scrape might very well scar. Taking a shuddering breath, she popped open the door a bit to let some air in to defog the mirror and found herself smiling when Ollie poked his nose inside.

“Are you watching out for me, boy?” The very sight of the canine made her feel better. As did the comforting cooking sounds emanating from the kitchen.

Ollie plopped his butt on the floor, wagged his tail and inclined his head.

“You and your master have the same intent, I see.” She peeked out into the bedroom and noticed the door was closed. “A gentleman, too.”

She’d washed her underwear and bra in the sink, left them to dry over the shower door. She wadded up what was left of her clothes to throw away in the trash. The soles of her feet felt more tender now that feeling had returned, and she found herself walking on the sides of her feet as the pain began to set in.

The sweatpants and button-down shirt would do for now. The garments were large and comfortable. She rolled up the cuffs on both the legs and sleeves before braiding her hair down her back. She held the tail of her hair in one hand and carried her ruined clothes and the clean socks back into the kitchen, where she found Leo standing in front of the stove stirring a mound of eggs.

“Two would have been enough,” Jane told him, and earned a sheepish smile tossed over one strong, firm shoulder.

“I thought I’d join you. I’ll get the toast going in a minute. Here.” He pulled the cast-iron pan off the stove and put a plate on top of it to keep the eggs warm. “Let’s get those cuts of yours tended to.”

“Do you have somewhere I can throw these?” She held out the silk top and linen pants. Regret she couldn’t quite relate to swept over her. “They must have been expensive.”

“They’re designer,” Leo said as he took them and glanced at the labels. “Which is why we’re going to keep them. When you’re ready to remember who you are, the labels might come in handy.”

When she was ready? “You make it sound like it’s my choice.” She watched him put the clothes in a paper bag and place it on a shelf on the back porch above the washing machine. A stack of rubber bands nearly obscured the doorknob of the pantry, and she snapped one off to secure her braid.

“Maybe it is.” Leo’s casual tone made it sound as if they were discussing the weather rather than her obviously severe case of...

Amnesia.

Jane groaned and dropped back into the chair she’d occupied earlier. “How can I know what amnesia is but not remember who I am? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does if your amnesia is somehow connected to who you are.” Leo retrieved a bright white metal box from the back porch and set it on the table. Before he returned, he poured them each a cup of coffee. “The brain is a complicated thing. I told you, don’t push it. You’ll remember what you’re meant to remember when you’re ready.”

“That sentence alone gives me a headache.” The pounding in her head wasn’t getting any better, but at least it wasn’t getting any worse. “I don’t even know where we are.”

“Colorado,” Leo told her. “Roaring Springs. Well, the farthest edge of it.” He arched a brow as if expecting the information to open a floodgate of memories. “Nothing?”

“Zippo.” The frustration began to eat at her. She just felt so...stupid! And it was not a feeling she liked. At all.

“How do you take your coffee?” He set a flowered mug in front of her.

“Cream. No sugar.” Her laugh sounded strained even to her own ears. “Would have probably taken a complete lobotomy to forget that.”

“Everyone knows how they take their coffee,” Leo teased. “Ollie, you’re becoming a pest. Go get in your bed.”

“He’s fine.” Jane pressed her hand into the dog’s neck. “I’m fine with him around.”

“Good to hear it. Now, drink some caffeine and brace yourself. This is probably going to sting.” He swabbed a large cotton ball with rubbing alcohol and pressed in against the long gash in her hairline.

She sucked in a breath, gritting her teeth as her eyes watered against the pain. “Oh, wow. Yeah.” But she didn’t pull away. It was something that had to be done. Besides, the comfort she felt with Ollie so close was nothing compared to how she felt around Leo Slattery. The man was...smoking hot. In more ways than one. She found herself transfixed by the muscles in his arm as he tended to her. He smelled amazing, too, like soap and wood with a hint of citrus that set her nose to tingling. She took a deep breath to steady herself, but that only set her head to spinning in a completely different way.

“Why don’t you scare me?” Given what must have happened to her, she should be terrified of everyone and yet...

He stopped, pulled his hand away and sat back in his chair. “What?”

Jane’s cheeks flamed. “Did I say that out loud? Oh, wow.” She pressed a hand against her face. “My brain must have been seriously bashed. That was—”

“Honest.” The smile that broke across his handsome face could have healed a thousand wounds. “I don’t have an answer for you other than I think it means you know I don’t mean you any harm.” It was the way he said it, not as a question exactly, but the inquiry was there nonetheless. Her mind raced for a response as Leo turned his attention to the welt on her upper cheek.

“But someone did. Mean me harm,” she added as if needed. “Who?”

“Again, I don’t have an answer.” He tossed the soiled cotton ball onto a napkin and retrieved three butterfly bandages from the kit. “I’m not sure we’ll know until you remember who you are. And it’s doubtful we’ll find that out without help.”

“No police.” The protest was out of her mouth before she even thought the words. The very idea of talking with the police was enough to turn the coffee in her empty stomach to bile.

“They might recognize you.”

“Why?”

Leo smiled, but for the first time, there didn’t seem to be any humor behind it. “You’re not from around here, Jane. Your clothes, your hands. Your hair. You. You don’t live a rancher’s life. And around this part of Roaring Springs, that would make you stand out. I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t think you’re a country girl. There.” He pressed his fingers against the bandages. “Now, let’s see your feet.” He scooted his chair back and patted his thighs. “Up.”

“Um. Okay.” She drew her feet up and did as he requested. The second his hands landed on her feet, she shivered. Strong, determined fingers examined the soles, pressing and checking for open wounds. “How bad?”

“Not as bad as I thought. You’re going to want to stay off them for a day or so. Let them heal a bit.” He repeated the process he had with her head, cleaning the scrapes with alcohol before applying ointment and covering them with gauze that he secured with tape. “What’s this?” He angled her left foot to the side, narrowed his eyes as his fingers gently grazed her skin.

She shook her head, that sick fear clogging her throat.

“They look like finger marks.”

Jane squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to shake. “I know,” she whispered. But that was all she could manage. Watching him, she took comfort in the shift of expressions over his face. Concern gave way to curiosity, which sharpened to anger at her words. But his touch didn’t change. The featherlight pressure of his fingers danced along her skin like a healing balm.

“Those socks should help.” He picked up the pair of thick, white socks from the table. “Besides, you shouldn’t be moving around with a head injury. We’ll give it a day or so, see how you’re feeling, then discuss what comes next.”

“What comes next?” Panic dropped over her again like a blanket.

“People are bound to be missing you, Jane. They’re bound to be worried. If you aren’t going to let me go to the police or take you to the hospital, then we’ll have to find those people ourselves.”

“Or I could just stay here.” Here, in this pretty little country kitchen with sunflower curtains over the windows and a collection of teapots behind one of the glass-door cabinets.

“You mean hide,” Leo corrected. He slipped the socks on her feet, gave her ankles a quick pat, then placed her feet back on the floor. “Wrist, please.”

“Lord, I’m such a mess.” She winced, remembering the feel of that saw blade scraping against her skin. “He was going to come back.”

Leo’s hand stilled for a moment before carefully dabbing at the scratches. “Who was?”

“He. They. Whoever left me in that shed.” And just like that, the anxiety and terror she felt when she’d first come to overtook the panic at the thought of leaving. “As soon as I woke up, as soon as I realized what was happening, I knew whoever took me was coming back.”

“Tell me what you remember about where you were.”

“Mmm.” Jane frowned and wished she’d get used to that stinging sensation coating her skin, but the pain was offset by Leo’s tender touch. “It was an old shed. One window. One door. I’d been tied up. Obviously.” She lifted her hand as proof.

“Rope.” He traced a finger over the burns among the cuts. “Not duct tape. Interesting.”

“Why? Duct tape might have been easier to cut through.”

“Maybe. What was in the shed?”

“Garden tools. A lawn mower, shovels. That kind of thing.” Her mind raced back there. “And old woodworking tools, too. The door wouldn’t open.”

“So you broke through the window.” He reached behind himself for a pair of tweezers.

“How did you—Ow!”

He plucked a tiny shard of glass out of the side of her wrist and held it up for her to see. “Glad there weren’t any in your feet.”

“Me, too.” She watched him examine every inch of her hands and wrists and forearms. “You sure you aren’t a doctor?” She felt her face warm again, and wished she didn’t sound like a teenager with a crush.

“I did some emergency first aid up in Alaska over the years. Nothing major, but what you learn sticks. Most of the time.”

“So you aren’t a rancher? But I thought—”

“I am now.” He rubbed a soothing salve into her skin before wrapping her wrists in gauze. “This was my grandparents’ place. They passed last year, so now it’s mine.”

“The pictures in the bedroom.” Jane looked behind her toward the photographs she could see perched on the dresser. She’d glanced at them earlier. An older, laughing couple. A young woman holding a grinning baby she assumed was Leo. A man, a more intense version of Leo, standing in full military uniform. “Your family.”

“Yes. My grandmother Essie showed us off at every opportunity. One thing that isn’t lacking in this house is photographs.” Even the smallest smile lit up Leo’s face. “Every celebration, every get-together, we had to take photos.”

“What about your parents? Did they not want to take over the ranch?”

“My mother died when I was little. My father was in the army for most of my childhood, so I lived here when he was deployed.” He cleaned up the kit, threw away the garbage, washed his hands and dropped a few slices of toast into the toaster. “He served three tours in the first Gulf War. I was supposed to go live with him when he was discharged, but he came back...different. So he moved in here with us. Until he died.”

The thought that Leo Slattery was alone in the world, that he’d lost all his family, pierced something inside her. “I’m so sorry, Leo.”

“It’s life.” He didn’t shrug, didn’t try to make light of it, but what he said rang true. “Bad things happen, Jane. To all of us. It’s how we deal with it that matters.”

She resisted the urge to squirm in her chair. “It’s a bit early in our friendship for you to be sending subliminal messages. I’m not going to the police.” The very idea still made her shudder.

“It wasn’t subliminal if you got it.” The grin he tossed her eased the uncertainty that continued to course through her. “Maybe you didn’t take such a big whack on the head after all.”

“Oh, I think I did.” In fact, the headache was coming back full force. “What painkillers do you have in that magic box of yours?”

“Let’s get some food into you first. Don’t want an upset stomach on top of everything else.” He set a plate of eggs in front of her and retrieved her toast. “Wait.” He opened a cabinet near the refrigerator and pulled out a jar. “It isn’t toast without my grandmother’s blackberry jam. Trust me.” He opened it and set it on the table.

“I do.” The fact that she did still didn’t make sense. But it did bring her the only semblance of peace she could find at the moment.

“Jane.” He caught her hand as she stabbed her fork into her breakfast. “We’re going to find out who you are and who hurt you. I promise.”

“You do?”

“I do. And I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” The determined glint in his eye convinced her. Settled her. Warmed her. “I’ll get you home, Jane. You have my word.”

Chapter 3

Since coming back to the ranch, Leo had grudgingly adjusted to the poor internet connection and cell service. One of the reasons his plans for the ranch were on hold. Difficult to run a business these days without being online. But for now, a landline was all he had.

The absence of anything other than local channel television hadn’t been a disappointment as he much preferred books or music to wind down his day, and he had his grandfather’s vinyl record collection on permanent rotation. But as he stood in the doorway to the living room, where Jane had curled up on the sofa, tucked in under his great-grandmother’s hand-stitched quilt, he realized how many problems technology could solve for his current predicament.

Predicament.

Odd choice of words for a beautiful interloper.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” He set a glass of water and new cup of java on the coasters on the coffee table. “I can postpone the repairs until—”

“Unless you plan to stand there and watch me sleep, there’s nothing more you can do for me, Leo.” She snuggled down on her side, her eyes already drooping. “I’m just going to sleep for a while.”

“Yeah. Well, since I’m not going to be here to check on you, I set the kitchen timer for an hour.”

She flicked her gaze to his.

“If you won’t go to the clinic in town to have your head checked, that’s the trade-off. When you get up to turn it off, set it again. I mean it, Jane.”

Her nose scrunched. “That’s such a silly name. And I don’t need a babysitter.”

Leo wasn’t so sure. “Hey.” He crouched so they’d be eye to eye. “It’s either the timer or I pack you into the truck and take you to the clinic.”

Shuddering, she ducked her chin and curled into herself. “They’ll call the police.”

Which was what Leo’s gut was telling him he should have already done. Someone had attacked her. Kidnapped her. Stashed her in some secluded shed so he could come back and do whatever he’d planned to do with her. “Then I think dealing with a kitchen timer should be an easy enough compromise.”

“Logical. That’s irritating.”

She might have meant it to be teasing, but he saw the flash of fear in her lovely brown eyes at the mere idea of calling the authorities. “I shouldn’t be gone more than a few hours. TV remote is by the chair over there. Some movies are on the shelf. Help yourself to whatever you need.”

“I just want to sleep,” she murmured even as her eyes drifted closed.

“Yeah. Sleep.” Leo knew he should leave. But he found himself positively transfixed by the vision of this beautiful, strong-willed, mystifying woman on his sofa. He didn’t want to leave her. But he couldn’t stay, either. Not when there were chores to be done and questions to answer.

The sooner he got to both the better. He stood up and patted his leg, quietly calling Ollie. The dog obeyed, looking up at him with expectant eyes. “You stay with her, boy. Okay?”

Ollie whined, no doubt realizing he wouldn’t be venturing outdoors much today.

“How about we go with steak for dinner,” Leo offered with a gentle, encouraging pet.

A quiet bark of approval set his mind at ease. “Then you keep an eye on Jane. I’ll be back soon.”

Leo retrieved his jacket and hat and headed outside, his boots hitting the ground with purpose as he walked to the barn. The morning breeze had obscured most of the barefoot tracks Jane had left on her arrival, but an occasional drop of dark blood gave him a good enough trail to follow, which he did, into the tree line on the far end of the property.

Admiration and anger mingled inside Leo as he realized just how far and how difficult her walk had been. She had to have been disorientated. Dizzy. Confused. And yet somehow, she’d found her way here.

Broken branches and disturbed shrubs gave him a general idea as to the direction she’d come. It was a good two, three miles in before he’d hit anything resembling a road, but that road would circle back and outline a good portion of Roaring Springs. Not that he’d had much time to explore as of yet. But maybe this was the excuse he’d been looking for.

“First things first.” He needed to get that line of fence repaired before the cattle decided to test its strength. Leo returned to the barn and house, circled around to the front porch and climbed into his truck.

He made the drive up and around to the far end of the property in silence with the windows open and the Colorado summer breeze his chosen companion. Not quite as entertaining or comforting as Ollie, but he felt better about leaving Jane knowing his dog was with her.

It wasn’t long before he’d loaded up the feed trailer at the silo, and made a more efficient trip up to the herd. Normally he let them graze the pasture, but he needed them away from the fence line, so he deposited the feed well away from the sagging sections of fence. Tomorrow he’d move them to the northern pasture, which should give him a breather for a couple of days.

* * *

They thought he’d killed her.

He’d have found the idea of murdering Skye Colton amusing if it didn’t irritate him. Why hadn’t he thought of that himself? He could have. There had been plenty of opportunity, given his proximity to the friendliest and most outgoing of the Colton offspring.

Reason overruled him. Killing Sabrina Gilford had brought enough attention. Attention that included the FBI, and they were nobody’s fool. Better to play it safe. Stick to the plan. Remain where he was, in plain sight, watching every move the Coltons and Gilfords made.

Every day he listened to the worry, felt the barely retrained fear over Skye’s disappearance, the dead women he’d all but laid at their door. It fed him. Nourished him. Emboldened him. The tension gave him a particular kind of jolt, and wasn’t nearly as satisfying as squeezing the life out of those women. One after another after another.

Maybe...maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was time to strike harder, deeper, rip their hearts right out of their chests by eliminating their precious Skye. Maybe...

Tight lips stretched into a thin smile as he allowed himself to daydream watching the life drain out of those lively brown eyes. Pleasure shot through him like an intoxicant as his mind raced, settled. Planned.

Perhaps, he told himself as he offered a pleasant smile to the group of guests who passed by him on their way to The Chateau. Perhaps it was time he joined in the search for Skye Colton.

* * *

It was after noon before Leo wrapped the last coil of barbed wire hard and tight around the metal post. Wiping the sweat off his forehead with his sleeve, he tipped his hat back and surveyed the cattle in the distance. He hadn’t been far off base thinking they’d be up for testing the fence line, but for now, all was secure on the Slattery Ranch. As far as he knew, anyway.

He gathered his tools and the last of the wire, slung it all into the bed of his truck before drinking the last of the water in the cooler he kept. Even as he considered what should be done next, he rethought his to-do list. It had been a few days since he’d done a fence check on the west end of the property, but he had something more important in mind.

Which was why, after dropping off the feed trailer, he didn’t stop at the house. He kept driving. Right out the gate, off the property and onto the fifty mile road that would take him into town.

* * *

By the time the kitchen timer beeped for the fourth time, Jane gave up any hope of sleep.

“Probably part of his evil plan from the start.” She tossed off the quilt with a growl loud enough to startle Ollie, who did a quick spin and check to see if he’d missed an intruder.

“Just me, boy. Ready to strangle your owner.”

The German shepherd made an odd noise in the back of his throat. Jane froze halfway off the sofa, wondering just how much the dog actually understood. “What got your attention? My growl or the word owner?”

Ollie barked. Jane swore the animal grinned.

“At least one of us is having a good day.” She climbed off the sofa and trudged into the kitchen, pushing the button to silence the DEFCON 1 blaring that cut through her head like a knife. Maybe Leo was right. Maybe she should have her head checked out.

Or maybe she should just take another painkiller. She shook out a pill and downed it with a full glass of water. The view out the kitchen window was enough to take her breath away. The distant mountains provided the perfect country backdrop to the lush acreage and land stretching before her. With the barn and stable on the other side of the house, she could see far and wide, and memorized every curve, every hill, every...shadow.

Jane gasped and dropped to the floor. Ollie came over immediately and pushed his head against her chest as her heart pounded. She squeezed her eyes shut as fear roiled through her. The buzzing in her ears returned, blocking out rational thought as she tried to filter through what she’d seen in a glimpse. A man on horseback, along the top ridge of the property. Leo had taken his truck, hadn’t he? He hadn’t come back without telling her, right? Was she wrong? Was she imagining things?

Skin clammy, hands shaking, she gripped the edge of the sink and pulled herself up, peeking over the edge of the window ledge. Her gaze froze on the solitary figure on horseback turning one way, then the other. He was so far away that logically she knew he couldn’t see her. But she could see him. Who was it? Did Leo have someone on the ranch he hadn’t told her about?

She should have asked him. Stupid, stupid! She should have gotten all the information she could before urging him to leave. Not that she couldn’t protect herself.

Heart hammering in her throat, she pushed herself up, watching the figure as she blindly reached for the knife block on the counter.

She wrapped her hand around the thickest handle and pulled the carving knife free before ripping the curtain closed. She crouched on the floor again, knife clutched in her hands, close to her chest.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Jane whispered to herself, but the fear wouldn’t dissipate. Behind closed eyes, the flashing lights returned. Red. Blue. Bright. Blinding. The ghostly sound of heavy boots approaching had her crying out and darting to the other side of the kitchen, still crouched into as tight a ball as she could manage. She took long, deep breaths, coaxing herself to pry her eyes open, and when she finally did, she found she was alone. Other than Ollie, there was no one in the kitchen—just shadows and her own terror.

“No one knows you’re here. No one could.” But even as the words seeped out of her mouth, she knew she couldn’t believe it. She didn’t even know her own name let alone what anyone outside this house would or wouldn’t do.

She couldn’t take any chances. Here, alone, with no one to trust, she needed to feel safe. She kept low, moving along the edge of the cabinets until she reached the living room. Before she could talk herself out of it, she darted to the windows and pulled the drapes shut. Then she raced through the house and did the same in every room.

The Slattery house went dark and dormant. Ollie abandoned his stance by the door and followed her from room to room, a low concerned whine issuing from his throat. If dogs could speak, she had no doubt he was telling her to calm down. To try to relax and not worry that every person outside the house was the one responsible for hurting her and stashing her in that shed.

But she couldn’t stop. Not until she found the darkness again. The last room had no curtains. The bookshelf-lined study was both practical and elegant, with a heavy desk and an outdated desktop computer situated on top. She bypassed the array of files and papers, the opened mail and the stack of unattended envelopes in favor of the corner, where she dropped down and huddled. She struggled to breathe around the feeling that her lungs were going to explode, all the while hearing the intermittent pounding of footsteps and wailing sirens. Dim sunlight streamed in through the western-facing window.

Ollie inched toward her, lifting his paws onto her updrawn knees.

Her arms ached. Her fingers had gone numb around the hilt of the knife. But she wasn’t letting go. Not now. Maybe not ever.

Ollie blinked big, concerned eyes at her.

“It’s okay, boy,” Jane lied. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.” But she couldn’t do anything more than close her eyes and rest the back of her head against the array of books behind her. “He’ll be back soon. Leo will be back.” Leo. She forced the image of the ruggedly handsome cowboy into her mind, shoving away the darkness, the fear, and focused only on him. “Leo will be back.”

She wasn’t safe. Not here. Not inside. Not outside.

Whoever had locked her up in that shed was still out there. Looking for her.

But why? Who was she? What had she done that could have made anyone do what they had?

More importantly, when was she ever going to feel safe again?

* * *

Leo grabbed the first parking spot he found near M&P Grocery, the small mom-and-pop store located in the blink-and-miss-it town of Juniper Grove. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the hustle and bustle of Roaring Springs with its restaurants, shops, businesses and nightclubs, but Leo was the kind of man who preferred simpler offerings. Juniper Grove, less than an hour’s drive from the ranch, was perfect for those looking for a more sedate side excursion with its kitschy antiques stores, gift shops and down-home atmosphere. But today? Today he was keeping his ears open. Small towns absorbed information like industrial sponges. And even smaller businesses like M&P Grocery? It was the perfect place to start.

He grabbed his hat before climbing out of his truck. His trips into town weren’t infrequent, but this time of day put him in the middle of what would be considered the lunch rush and the lively energy of workday frenzy. The plate-glass windows of the diner across the street were filled with customers sipping on milkshakes and gobbling down burgers. The solitary gift shop had their OPEN signs ablaze to welcome the trickle of customers. He’d forgo the bookshop this time around, and he didn’t need to stop at the hardware or the feed and supply store located a few doors down. Instead, he focused his attention on the grocery and stocking up on supplies.

Leo tipped his hat in greeting to the elderly pair of women hurrying out of the store, each with a reusable bag curved over one arm, and a drippy, strawberry ice-cream cone clutched in the other hand.

“Afternoon, Leo.” Clarice Summers called from behind the front register. She tucked the too-tight blouse down over her obviously pregnant stomach with a grimace of frustration. “What brings you out and about today?”

“Just stocking up. Weekend’s gonna be full.” He pulled out a cart and made quick work of the meat section. One thing about living in cattle country—there was always plenty of selection. He looked at the plastic-wrapped packages of chickens and cringed. Did Jane like beef? Should he get some chicken just in case?

His culinary skills were passable; not that his grandmother would have agreed. But he’d pulled his own weight up on the pipeline and filled in a time or two for the kitchen help. Up there, you did what needed doing whether you were capable or not. You just dived in and hoped for the best.

While he’d certainly had his share of female companionship in his twenty-seven years, he’d never lived with a woman long-term. Would Jane prefer salad? Seafood? Or would her memory loss work in his favor? Maybe he should have thought this out a bit more.

By the time he loaded his items onto the conveyer belt, he felt better about his selections. Pasta, fresh vegetables. And dog treats for Ollie. Not too much he could screw up. One thing he did know how to make was his grandmother’s buttermilk biscuits. Add a pile of strawberries and they make for perfect shortcakes.

“Branching out, I see.” Clarice grinned at his larger than usual grocery haul. “One would think you were stocking up for the winter.”

“Just being prepared,” Leo said, smiling back. “You ready for the little one?”

“I was ready a month ago,” Clarice groaned, and pressed a hand against the base of her spine. “I swear this kid swims laps. What am I going to do when he comes out? Not like we have a lot of pools around Juniper Grove.”

“There’s always The Chateau in Roaring Springs,” one of her coworkers teased.

Clarice snorted. “Sure, if I turned over half my paycheck. You been up there yet, Leo?”

“To The Chateau? Ah, no.” Fancy spas and resorts weren’t part of his lifestyle. Not that he knew much about it. Growing up, he’d spent all his time out on the ranch being homeschooled by his grandmother. He’d never been concerned with the Coltons and the goings-on in downtown Roaring Springs. Now that he was back, nothing had changed. They lived in their world; he lived in his. He probably wouldn’t even recognize a Colton if he saw one.

“Well, who knows what’s going on up there these days what with that Avalanche Killer and all,” Clarice’s friend, whose name badge identified her as Betsy, declared in a singsong voice. “Not sure if that’s going to bring more people in or frighten them away.”

“The Avalanche Killer?” Leo did his best to sound casual.

“Honey, you’ve been spending too much time out on that ranch alone. Haven’t you heard? They’ve found bodies up there on the mountain near The Lodge. Bodies of young women. Buried in the snow.” Clarice shuddered. “Word is some go back years. They found another one just a while ago. Crazy times we’re living in. I’m locking my doors for sure.”

“Crazy times indeed,” Leo murmured even as his mind raced. He wasn’t a man who believed in coincidences. Knowing what he did about Jane and what had happened to her, now hearing about this crazy serial killer? Suddenly, all he wanted was to get back to the ranch and make sure she was okay.

“Thanks, Clarice. So who’s in charge of the case? Have they brought in the Feds? I saw on one of those reality shows they bring in the FBI for cases like this.”

Betsy shook her overdyed blond hair. “Last I heard Deputy Daria Bloom’s overseeing things. Been working like a fiend trying to tie all the threads together.” Her mascara-thick blue eyes went wide. “I bet this would make an amazing book or TV movie. You know, for that women in crime network they have. Oh, wow! I wonder if they’d film here.”

Leo forced a laugh and accepted the bags Clarice finished packing. “I wouldn’t put it past anyone not to have thought of that already. Thanks, ladies. You have a nice day. Clarice, you take it easy.”

“You, too, Leo.” Clarice beamed at him.

Leo loaded his bags into the truck, hesitating. Questions flooded his mind, as well as doubts. As much as he wanted to inquire further about the supposed serial killer and ferret out information that could, possibly, connect to Jane, he’d given her his word he wouldn’t go to the authorities. Besides, going in and asking questions of the police would more likely result in him being put on a suspect list rather than being considered a curious resident.

No. Now wasn’t the time. He couldn’t break the promise he’d made to Jane, not when trust was the most important thing he could build right now. It didn’t matter that she might never know. He would. A man might not have much, his grandfather often told him, but he has his word and once he gives that, there’s no going back.

Which meant Leo would give the sheriff’s station and Deputy Bloom a wide berth. For now.

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