Читать книгу Mistaken Twin - Jodie Bailey - Страница 14

Headlights swept through the windshield of Wyatt’s police SUV as a car turned onto Barnett Street and cruised past the light where Jenna and Wyatt were stopped.

She turned her head away from the light, toward Wyatt, away from whoever was driving the car. She’d been spotted tonight. Recognized. If the intruder in her shop had called in reinforcements, it was only a matter of time before she was surrounded and dragged to El Paso and the man she feared, the life she despised.

Logan Cutter had appeared to be everything a girl like Jenna could want. Well, everything a girl like Genevieve Brady—her birth name—could want. After never knowing who her father was and growing up with a mother who tried to live a fantasy before she eventually committed suicide, there had never been a father figure, other than one man, Anthony Reynolds, her mother’s boyfriend when Jenna was seven. He’d treated Jenna and her twin sister, Amy, as his own...until her mother had abruptly booted him from their lives in less than a year.

Desperate to be loved, she’d given Logan everything she had and had accepted his jealousy and anger as the price of being with him. Then she’d discovered evidence of his unfaithfulness, of the levels of his depravity...

One night, in confusion and grief, she had packed a bag and fled. He found her before daybreak. Beat her. Apologized. Held her as she cried.

She stayed.

The second time was worse.

And the third... Jenna glanced at Wyatt and squeezed herself tighter against the seat. She’d nearly died after the third time and still bore scars that sometimes ached in the cold.

That night, Genevieve Brady had disappeared from Del Sol Medical Center with Anthony’s help. Three days later, Jenna Clark became the newest resident of Mountain Springs, North Carolina. Thanks to her mother’s ex—who had built an underground business out of making both the innocent and the guilty disappear—every link to her past was severed and she had the paperwork to lend credence to her new identity. All she had left of her old self was her love of art and a “go bag” hidden in the attic crawlspace at her apartment, insurance in case Jenna Clark ever needed to disappear as well.

The scars on her back ached at the memory, and Jenna clamped her teeth on a whimper she would never let Wyatt Stephens hear. It was bad enough he’d already seen her at her weakest. Her cheeks were still hot with embarrassment in the midst of her fear. He’d likely saved her life tonight, and the minute he’d returned for her, she’d collapsed in a heap like some weak woman in a 1940s melodrama. She was stronger than a fainting starlet.

For the moment, though, embarrassment was probably a whole lot less detrimental to her mental health than fear would be. Thinking about Wyatt having to haul her into his arms and carry her into her office was easier than coming to grips with the truth. Her logical next move was to be gone by sunrise.

The best thing to do was to keep her focus on the man beside her, not on the one who hounded her nightmares.

“You didn’t have to drive me home.” His presence made escape harder. Her apartment was across the street and two blocks away from the shop, above Higher Grounds Coffee Bar, another former town watering hole.

The light turned green, highlighting his face with shadows that deepened the blue of Wyatt’s eyes and sharpened the cut of his jawline. His dark brown hair was tousled from his earlier scuffle. For the briefest of moments, he looked at her almost as though he might feel a bit of compassion, but then he turned away and made the left onto Main Street. “First of all, after what happened tonight, nobody’s letting you walk home by yourself, especially not in the dark.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, where Erin and her fiancé, Jason Barnes, followed in Jason’s pickup. “Second, I’m not interested in the lecture I’d get from Erin if I even dared to suggest you walk home unescorted.” He held up three fingers before resting his hand on the steering wheel. “Third, I have to ask some questions in order to do paperwork. And a bonus fourth thing, you promised me coffee. I don’t turn my back on free coffee. Ever.”

“Not even from me?” The man had never liked her. While Erin was her closest friend, and also happened to be Wyatt’s cousin, Wyatt had always kept Jenna at a distance, eyeing her with the kind of suspicion that made her feel like he could read all of her darkest secrets...and there were definitely plenty of those. Jenna avoided him, didn’t talk to him if she could help it. Something inside her rankled at the sight of him.

When she was forced to speak to him, her words always came out antagonistic, even when she tried to be nice. Even the shortest conversation with the town’s most popular police officer made everything worse. Wyatt Stephens unsettled her insides. There was no other way to say it.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and his jaw quirked to the side as though he’d tensed it until it ached. Finally, he relaxed and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “You’ve been through the wringer tonight, okay? We’ve got every available officer out looking, even the ones off duty. You have a lot of friends in Mountain Springs who want to see this guy caught. Until then, let’s concentrate on getting you home, where it’s safe.”

Safe. The word no longer had meaning. Jenna sighed and stared out the window into the side mirror at Jason’s headlights behind them as Wyatt cruised slowly along the street. He had no idea what he was talking about. Nowhere in town was safe. She hadn’t flown far enough from Texas. Somehow, after three years, Logan’s men had found her in the town she now called home.

She’d grown to love this place in a way she’d never imagined possible. The local bookstore, staffed by volunteers from the library, glided past. The co-op where local artists consigned their paintings, pottery and other art. Higher Grounds Coffee Bar...

She leaned closer to the window so she could see the second story of the building. Her apartment. The place where she’d once felt safe. She’d been taught to defend herself after all...and she’d failed. “I should have been able to handle the guy tonight.”

“What?”

This was what bothered her, the slight shame that had dogged her for the past hour. “My mom had a boyfriend, Anthony. He—he took care of me and my sister, taught us how to take care of ourselves.” She smiled slightly at the memory. “Taught us how to break away if a guy ever tried to grab us. Said the worst thing we could do was kick or knee, because it would throw us off balance. ‘Poke him in the eye,’ he said. ‘Fight like a girl.’ He said girls are tougher than most guys think they are, so fighting like a girl was a good thing.” Jenna sniffed, Anthony’s voice clear in her head, even though everything he’d taught her had flown right out of her head in the panic of reality.

“‘Fight like a girl,’” Wyatt murmured, making the turn into the alley by her apartment. “I’ll have to remember your story, maybe teach it to Erin.”

“I’m sure Erin can take care of herself.” The way Jenna was going to have to as soon as she could flee.

When the SUV came to a stop, Jenna shoved out the door, keys in hand, mind focused on getting away from her protectors and into the attic so she could grab her packed bag and get out of town. Her heart pounded, her feet desperate to carry her up the metal stairs on the outside of the building. First, she’d make her entourage leave, then she would barricade herself in and find the gun she’d shoved into the darkest, farthest corner of her closet shelf...

The stairs vibrated as Wyatt pounded up with Erin and Jason close behind. He extracted the keys from Jenna’s hand as she aimed for the door, gently slipping between her and the entry. “I’m going in first.”

Jenna wanted to argue, but her throat closed as Wyatt turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door, drawing his pistol as he pocketed her keys.

Someone could be in her home, waiting for her. It wasn’t a foreign idea, but watching Wyatt slip into her front door armed...

Jason edged in front of Jenna and stood inside the doorway as Erin’s arm slipped around her waist and guided her toward the threshold. “Come on. Let’s stand inside.”

Inside. So no one on the outside would see her.

Tremors shook Jenna by the time Wyatt walked along the short hallway leading to her bedroom. He holstered his pistol, his broad shoulders seeming to dwarf the space. He’d never been in her apartment before, and his presence served to make an already surreal night even more bizarre. “All clear.”

Three sets of eyes turned to Jenna, who stood between her living room and the bar that separated the area from the kitchen, her feet rooted to the polished hardwood. This must be what zoo animals felt like. On display. Exposed. Vulnerable.

Those were feelings she’d vowed never to succumb to again. Lifting her chin, she turned her focus to Jason and Erin and slipped behind the mask she’d worn for years. They’d be the easiest ones to convince. “You guys didn’t have to follow me home. I know you were looking forward to the concerts tonight. Go. I’m fine. Really. Plus, I’ll be a whole lot better if I don’t have an audience staring at me while I put together the pieces of somebody breaking in to my shop.”

“Not just breaking in to your shop. He—” Erin stopped abruptly as Jason laid a hand on her back, his fingers grazing her shoulder-length brown hair. She clamped her mouth shut, opened it again, then leaned against Jason’s chest and let him slide his arm around her waist. “I’m sorry. It’s just, after what happened to us...” She sighed. “I’m sure tonight terrified you, but I’m also sure nobody’s stalking you like they were me. I shouldn’t have hinted at such a thing.”

Good. Let them all think the attack was a one-off and she was merely in the wrong place at the wrong time. It would make everything easier...until she fled and they had no idea why. “Really. Go. I’m fine. Wyatt’s got to ask me some questions, so he’ll be here for a bit.” The ability she’d honed as a child, to put on a brave front and act as though the world wasn’t exploding, was working to its full effect tonight.

Erin hesitated then glanced at Wyatt, seeming to search for confirmation. Finally, she hugged Jenna, who held on tight for a breath longer than usual. If things went according to plan, she’d be gone by morning and would never again see the closest friend she’d known since her sister’s death.

Erin pulled away and turned to Wyatt. “Look out for her.”

He tipped his head and walked outside with Jason and Erin, giving Jenna a moment to breathe. She could do this. Half an hour. Make some coffee. Answer some questions. Usher Wyatt out the door.

Then disappear.

One. Two. Three.

Jenna scooped coffee into the filter basket of her coffeepot. Sleep probably wasn’t coming any time soon, so caffeine was her friend. The sooner she had a warm mug in her hand, the better she’d feel. Besides, the activity kept her from having to turn toward Wyatt, who stood on the other side of the granite counter.

“Jenna, it’s okay to sit still. Nobody’s here but us. You’re safe.”

Four. That’s what he thought. “You don’t have to stay.” Seriously. If he left, she could curl in the corner of her couch and fall apart in peace, grieving what she was about to lose. The fear quaking her insides could run rampant through her body until it subsided.

Then, when the numbness set in, she could save herself.

Reality knifed her chest, causing her breath to hitch. She held the silver spoon tighter, the handle pressing into her palm. Shelley, who owned the building and the coffee shop, had given it to her when she moved in. Tonight, she would leave even this small memory behind.

“You said you were making me coffee. I’m going to make sure you keep your promise.” There was a rustle as he shifted position. “You might have convinced Erin she didn’t have to stay after you gave her the whole it-was-no-big-deal speech, but you’re forgetting something. I’m the one who scooped you off the floor like a wet beach towel. You are not okay.”

Wow. He had to go and remind her. That kind of arrogance was exactly what she expected of Wyatt. To be so smug as to point out her weakness and his strength. The strength she’d felt in his chest through the thick layers of his heavy uniform jacket. For a moment, she’d wanted to stay there. For a moment, she’d felt safe.

Jenna nearly rolled her eyes. Safe with Wyatt Stephens? Whether it was her issue or his, they couldn’t manage to get along.

The spoon dug into the coffee again, releasing the comforting, earthy aroma of roasted beans, but she hesitated as she held it over the filter basket. What number was she on?

“That’s five.” Wyatt’s voice was at her shoulder, and he reached around, gently taking the silver spoon from her fingers. His warmth loosened the tension in her shoulders, made her stop feeling like someone was peeking through the blinds of her second-story apartment. “Sit. You’re wobbling on your feet. I’ll finish here.”

Normally, when it came to Wyatt she’d argue, but the gelatin in place of her kneecaps was having none of it. Without lifting her head, Jenna sidestepped him and walked around the column at the end of the bar into the small living room at the front of the apartment. She curled into the corner of her gray couch and stared at the picture above the small stone fireplace, the one Erin had painted for her Christmas present. It was an almost photographic recreation of the view from Anson’s Ridge. When the days were rough or the memories too real, Jenna escaped up there to be alone. She’d head that way right now if rain wasn’t moving in.

And if she wasn’t more afraid than usual of what might lurk in the dark.

She’d probably never see Anson’s Ridge again. Her eyes burned, tears pushing to the front. Leaving El Paso had been hard, but with nothing to keep her there, her departure hadn’t ripped her heart into pieces.

This time, leaving might kill her.

Dragging her hands through her hair, she stared at the painting and wished herself into it.

A heavy pottery mug appeared in her vision, steam curling above it.

Jenna jumped, her hand over her heart. She’d have to relearn how to be vigilant.

“Sorry.” With an apologetic smile that looked well practiced, Wyatt backed away, still holding the mug out to her. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I found creamer in the fridge and assumed you’d want it in your coffee.”

His blue eyes were a startling contrast to his dark hair. She’d never noticed before, likely because she’d never been this close before. Then again, maybe without all of the tension that usually flowed between them, she could see him more clearly.

His eyes were actually kind of nice.

He held the cup a little closer, his cheeks reddening as though he could read her thoughts. “You want it or not?”

“Sorry.” Jenna wrapped both hands around the mug, careful not to brush his fingers. They’d been close enough to each other for one night already, and now she was noticing his eyes? No bueno. “Thanks.” The warmth from the ceramic seeped into her fingers, inched its way up her arms and settled into her soul. Finally, she could relax, even if it was all a temporary illusion of peace.

Before her sister, Amy, died, she had gone to a therapist and had doled out advice she received there. Best way to get rid of the ugly is to focus on the right now, Amy’s therapist had said. The whole Matthew 6 thing about tomorrow having its own troubles means you should focus now. Funny how her sister’s secondhand wisdom popped to mind tonight.

Jenna could focus on right now, on the familiar comforting warmth of a mug in her hands. On the creamy walls she’d painted with Erin when she’d first rented the apartment.

On the police officer whose presence seemed way too big for the tiny space of her living room.

Hands practically engulfing his own sapphire-blue mug, Wyatt sat in an armchair in the corner near the window and stared into his coffee. He didn’t move until his radio crackled. He listened, then spoke into the mic at his shoulder, ending with “Ten six.”

“What are those numbers?” The numbers were easier to talk about than any questions he’d have for her. “‘Ten six?’”

“Means I’m busy unless it’s urgent. I’m in the middle of something and can’t be interrupted unless the world’s about to explode.”

He was trying to be funny, but nothing about it was amusing. She was the most important thing on a police officer’s agenda.

Wyatt took a sip of coffee, then inspected the mug. “This is nice. Well made. The color’s rich. You buy them from someone around here?” He lifted the crafted piece to look for a mark on the bottom.

He wouldn’t find one. Jenna had made them herself, but she couldn’t say so. No one around town knew she threw pottery, that she’d done so since she’d learned in one of the after-school programs in El Paso. She took pleasure in the wet clay as she infused beauty into something unbelievably plain, like Jesus had done with her.

She’d love to share her work, but it was one of the things she’d had to keep in the dark, packed away to protect her safety.

Of course, none of her caution mattered now.

The room took on the kind of awkward silence that made the air heavier, as though a black hole spun over the sleek glass coffee table. All she wanted was to be alone, yet Wyatt sat and sipped his coffee, acting like this was some sort of extended social call.

Of course, she’d been the one to tell him he could have coffee, but only because he’d probably saved her life, then made sure her apartment was safe. It would have been kind of rude to kick him out after he’d been on the front lines for her.

Oh, man. He’d been in every room of her apartment. There had better not be any dirty laundry in the middle of the bedroom floor. Her cheeks heated. “You don’t have to stay.”

He met her gaze and held it. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Erin said you had to? Was that your conversation outside when she left?” Jenna’s best friend was the only female firefighter on the Mountain Springs Volunteer Fire Department. She had been the protective type even before she’d almost fallen victim to a serial killer. “You know Erin’s not your boss. You don’t have to do what she says.”

Wyatt’s laugh was quick and seemed to come from deep in his chest. In other circumstances, his mirth might have lifted her spirits. “You know you’re living in a fantasy world, right? Erin’s all about taking charge. It’s a good possibility if I don’t obey her commands, I’ll never hear the end of it. It’s easier to nod and agree, especially while she’s living in my house.” His smile slipped and the serious expression that usually resided on his face took over. “This time it’s my real boss who’s calling the shots.”

Jenna leaned forward and set her coffee mug on the table. “What?”

“As long as the guy who tried to take you is out there, I’m supposed to keep an eye on you, at least for the short term. Plus, I still have to take your statement.”

“So I’m your assignment?”

“If you want to use those words, sure.”

“And you have to stay in my home for the foreseeable future?” His constant presence was going to put a definite crimp in her plans.

But maybe...

Maybe there was hope. It fluttered in her chest, daring her to reach out and grasp it.

If Wyatt was watching out for her, she wouldn’t have to leave. Maybe they’d catch whoever the man was before he could try again.

“I won’t crash in your apartment. I’ll be in my vehicle.” Wyatt shifted and sat on the edge of his seat, holding his coffee mug between his knees. “Do you know who the man was?”

“I’ve never seen him before.” Technically, it was true. She’d never seen that particular man in her life. She’d have remembered the dark eyes, the scar along his cheek. But she’d known plenty of men like him.

Jenna was hiding from one.

Logan had been handsome. Charming... Until he had her under his thumb and threw the first punch. She could still feel the shock of it—physically and mentally. Her lower jaw tightened. Her lip trembled. She dug her teeth in and reached for her mug, but her hand shook, and she sloshed coffee onto the glass.

Wyatt pulled in a deep breath, watching her with a practiced gaze before he spoke. “What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing.” She should probably confess, but what good would it do? If there was even the slimmest chance she could preserve her new identity and stay in town, the last thing she needed to do was bust everything into the open.

Wyatt stood, then stalked to the kitchen and set his mug on the bar with a thump, making Jenna jump. “This?” He turned toward her, familiar suspicion in his eyes, making the blue turn granite gray. “This is my problem. This is what frustrates me about you.”

Her head jerked back so hard her neck strained. “What?” She stood and squared off with him, the fear from her earlier encounter finding new fire in her anger. “What exactly are you accusing me of? A man broke in to my shop tonight. Am I suddenly the bad guy?”

Wyatt dragged his hand down his face and along the back of his neck, where he dug his fingers in. “No, but you’re definitely not telling me the truth.”

“I don’t know who the guy was, okay?”

“Fine. Then answer this... Was it a robbery gone wrong? A kidnapping attempt?” Straightening, Wyatt crossed his arms. “You may not know who he was, but do you have any clue why he was there? Give me something to work with, Jenna.”

Wait a second. Jenna backed away, her eyebrows inching closer to her hairline. Something didn’t make sense. For all Wyatt knew, he’d foiled a simple break-in, one where Jenna was merely caught in the middle. He didn’t know the real story, had no idea she’d been targeted. Yet the bodyguard duty, the intensity and direction of his questions...

It seemed as though he did.

Her jaw slackened and she swallowed hard. Maybe Wyatt Stephens had a problem with her all of these years because he knew the one thing she’d tried the hardest to hide.

Exactly who she really was.