Blind Faith (46 page)

eyebrows rising. “Right?”

“Yes.” She swallowed. “You already had the tat when we met, and you said it meant
freedom.
”

“I don’t remember getting inked, but I know what the symbol means.” Shane frowned, running his

wounded hand through his hair.

The detective cleared his throat. “So, you don’t know who’d want to attack your husband, and you

haven’t seen him in two years. Ah, Mrs. Dean, you’ve built a life here, right?”

“Yes.” A good life with roots. Sure, she was alone, but she was secure.

The detective nodded. “Are you dating anyone?”

Heat rose into her face even as Shane’s eyes sharpened to flint. She shook her head. “That’s none of

your business, Detective.”

Shane lifted his chin. “But I believe it is
my
business, angel.”

The man always could issue an effective threat with the mildest of words. She opened her mouth to tell

him to stuff it when his words hit home. “You remember. You called me ‘angel.’ ” He’d given her the

nickname the first day they’d met at a small coffee shop in California.

He shook his head, giving a slight wince and then holding still. “No. No memories. You look like an

angel—big blue eyes, wispy blond hair. My angel.”

“Not anymore.” She wouldn’t let him do this to her. It’d taken two years to deal with the past, and she

couldn’t face the pain again. No matter how lost he looked, or how lonely she was. “We’re over.”

“Who are you dating, Josie?” As usual, Shane ignored her words and narrowed his focus to what he

deemed important.

“We do need to know, Mrs. Dean,” Detective Malloy cut in before she could tell Shane to go to hell.

“Just to clear the suspect list, if nothing else.”

She sighed. “I’m not dating anybody.”

“Someone popped into your mind,” Shane said softly. Too softly.

Icy fingers traced her spine, and her heart rate picked up. She shrugged off the sensation. The cop

narrowed his eyes. Both men waited.

She took a deep breath, pulling calmness in. “I’m not dating anyone, but I do spend time with Tom

Marsh. He’s in construction, and the last thing he’d ever do would be to mug somebody. And we’re just

friends.”

“What kind of friends?” Shane kept his focus solely on her as if the cop wasn’t in the room.

“None of your business.” The panic that rushed through her veins ticked her off.

He grabbed a crumpled shirt off the flattened pillow and yanked it over his head, grimacing as he

tugged down the worn cotton. He pushed off the bed—toward her. “Does Marsh know you’re taken?”

Awareness slammed into her abdomen as Shane’s unique scent of heated cedar and rough male washed

over her. How could she have forgotten how big he was? How much taller than her own five foot two? She

tilted her head to meet his eyes. “Tom knows I’m about to be divorced.”

“You sure about that?” Shane grasped her arm, his focus on the detective. “Malloy, you have my contact

information while I’m in town. I’ll be staying with my wife. Call if you hear anything.”

The firm hand around her bicep—so warm, so familiar—sent a wave of thrilling awareness through her

veins. The one touch could set her back months, maybe more. The man had always been unreal and larger

than life. Wanting him had nearly destroyed her once. Never again. She sucked in a breath. “Did the doctors

release you?”

“Yes. I have a concussion, and once it’s healed, my memory should be restored. Though”—his voice

dropped to a rumble—“you’ll need to awaken me every two hours tonight, darlin’.”

The twang. That Southern twang that escaped when he was either tired or aroused—an idiosyncrasy he

normally managed to camouflage. The mere sound of it ignited memories of heated nights and soft

whispers from her brain straight to her core. It was an intimacy most people didn’t know about him, and

learning about it made her feel special. Her mouth went dry.

A visible tic set up underneath the detective’s left eye. “You’re not free to leave, Major Dean.”

Shane smiled.

The air rushed out of Josie’s lungs. She knew that smile. The detective didn’t stand a chance.

Neither did she.

Shane lowered his voice to a purely pleasant tone that wouldn’t fool anybody with half a brain.

“Malloy, I was attacked and have cooperated with you. I unfortunately have no new information, nor am I

under arrest. Thus, I’m going home with my wife. Call me if you have questions.”

The twang was gone.

Malloy tapped his pen. “I could hold you as a material witness.”

“Try me.” Somehow the tone became even more pleasant.

Josie fought a shiver.

Malloy, to his credit, ignored the threat and turned bloodshot brown eyes on her. “Is there anyone

who’d want to hurt you, Mrs. Dean?”

Josie sucked in air. “You think he was injured because of me?”

The detective shrugged. “I don’t know. This might’ve been a random mugging, but we need to explore

all possibilities.”

She hadn’t seen her husband in two years. No way was the mugging connected to her. “Nobody wants

to hurt me. Besides, most of my friends don’t know I’m married.” Next to her, Shane stiffened, and her

breath quickened in response.

The detective nodded, his gaze taking in them both. “Are you sure you want him with you?”

No. Though it was time to finish this. “Sure. We need to talk, and I have papers for Shane to sign.

Thank you for your concern.” Not for one second did she think Shane would stay away at this point.

“Are you sure you’re safe? He may be dangerous.” The detective appraised them both without

expression. Cop face… soldier face. She’d seen it on her husband.

“Shane’s dangerous as hell.” He’d saved her from an obnoxious jackass the first day they’d met, his

combat training obvious. She allowed herself a wry grin. “But he would never hurt me.” Physically anyway.

Malloy cleared his throat. “Major Dean, what about your safety?”

Shane blinked twice and then chuckled. “Ah. You mean from the deadly pixie doll standing next to

me?”

“Perhaps.” Malloy’s gaze probed Josie’s eyes as he addressed Shane. “You’re estranged and she has

moved on. Statistically, it’s possible
the pixie
hired someone to take care of you.” He smiled. “No offense,

ma’am.”

She coughed out a laugh. “None taken, Detective. Though I assure you, if I wanted Shane dead, I’d do

it myself.” He’d tried to teach her some dangerous skills during their brief marriage, but she’d never had

cause to use them.

The detective’s eyes narrowed.

Shane chuckled even deeper. “Let’s go, angel.”

She allowed him to tug her from the room. They passed the uniformed cop and the many rooms,

Shane’s large form dwarfing her in a way she’d forgotten, in a way that made her feel safe—protected—

and yet so vulnerable. The detective’s concern filtered through her thoughts. Shane was dangerous before.

What if he was even more so now? Where had he been the last two years? She didn’t know him anymore.

Heck, she’d never known him.

Maybe she wasn’t so safe.

However, as the exit doors came into view, her stride sped up in an effort to escape the hospital. For her

first visit, when she was seven, she’d been brought in by a foster parent who had hurt her. The second

time, when she’d turned nine, she’d been carried in by a foster parent trying to save her. Different

experiences, yet the result had been the same. She’d ultimately ended up alone.

Here she was again, leaving the hospital with someone who would soon leave. He’d abandoned her

once. No matter how quickly her heart had leaped when she’d seen him again, or how lost he seemed right

now, he wouldn’t stay.

Shane wasn’t a guy who stuck around.

He paused near the sliding glass exit doors, turning her to face him, tipping her chin up with one

knuckle. The breadth of his shoulders, the narrowness of his waist, the strength bunched along his muscles

promised power and danger. Warmth and the masculine scent of heated cedar wafted her way. “So, wife.

Have you slept with this boyfriend of yours?”

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