Chasing Marisol (Blueprint to Love Book 3) (30 page)

"She showed up
unannounced,
"
he reminded
.
Based on her— observations, I took action."

"This was an immaculately planned operation-"

How the hell could he predict her wakin’ up in the trunk? The bitch kicks out a tail light, waving at every hayseed in the stupid town? He shoulda just capped her at the warehouse. Instead, his dick had gotten in the way. The
plan
involved doin' Blondie in the woods. His hands tightened on the wheel . . . feeling her throat. Her pleading with him. Tryin' to run. No one to hear her scream. . .

Heat rolled over him, his breath quickening. Dios, his luck sucked. "I thought-"

"We don’t pay you to think."

Matias' blood pressure spiked with the desire to reach through the phone and choke the bastard ’til his eyes popped. He was sick of takin' orders-

"Provide verification on her status by tomorrow. Otherwise our employment arrangement will experience a rather abrupt end."

***

Fog surrounded Julie, the thick, powdery clouds nearly suffocating. When she stumbled over the body, her phone flew from her hand. Cold, black eyes behind the mask mocked as he raised a hand to silence her-

"Tori . . ." She jolted awake, her eyes wet.  

"Was that a memory?"

Caught in the wispy tentacles of her dream, Julie shrank from the familiar voice.

"Ma’am, I won’t hurt you."

It was Barnes. The one who didn’t like her. Sensing him standing over her, she blinked to clear her eyes. "A dream." Brain still hazy, her shudder was involuntary. "He’s still out there-"

"What's he look like?"

Julie hesitated. How to explain the ominous sense of dread without sounding crazy? Barnes’ casual demeanor was betrayed by the wariness in his eyes. Despite his relaxed perch on the chair near her bed, she sensed a readiness to spring into action if required. "I see his eyes— they’re dark. Scary."

"Is he white? Black? Hispanic?"

She summoned the memory she wished to forget. "He has olive skin."

"If he wore a mask-"

She raised fingers to her lips. "Around the mouth hole." Absorbing his scrutiny, she stared back. "You're with the police, too?"

"I’m consulting with Captain Jonas."

Consultant.
She inhaled at the singe of memory. Straining for more, it dissolved in the air between them.

"What was that?"

Frustrated, she ignored his sudden interest. "That word— means something."

"Consulting?"

Something about Barnes didn’t add up. His uniform- a polo shirt and faded jeans. "Where's your Tom Ford briefcase?"

Intense blue eyes studied her, this time from behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses, reminding her more of a disgruntled professor than a small town cop. Ignoring her, he picked up his phone.

"You’re pretty good at not answering questions."

He smiled. "I could say the same about you."

"For the record, I don’t believe I’m usually this difficult." She hoisted herself into a sitting position so he wouldn’t tower over her. "Were you wearing glasses yesterday?"

"I forgot to order new contacts. My luck ran out this morning." After scrolling through his phone, he slid it in his pocket. "Who’s Tori?"

Call Tori
. "My dream— I was trying to call Tori— but there was so much white dust- I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see the numbers. Then ski mask guy showed up." 

"The officer who found you three nights ago indicated you said the name Tori several times."

Her pulse rocketed. "What about a last name? It must be someone I know."

Barnes flipped open a pad, scanning several items before speaking again. "He said it sounded like stash. You said 'cake' several times, too."

Frosting side down
. Her smile was fleeting. "I was thinking about cake." 

Barnes glanced up, closing the pad. "Stash refers to drugs. Maybe that's what you meant."

Drugs?
She frowned. "No."

"How can you be sure?"

Because it seemed completely foreign? Was that a valid answer? "I just . . . know."

"Clouds of white dust? Doesn't that sound strange?"

"It was a dream," she emphasized. "I dreamt I tripped over a bod-" A shudder rippled through her. His eyes narrowing with interest, Julie realized too late it was probably the last thing she should have confessed. "Forget I said that."

His gaze intensified. "Not sure I can do that."

Great. By the time she finished blabbing, he'd have her under arrest for a murder she couldn't even remember. "It's been three days. Doesn't anyone miss me?"

"Not so far." His fingers drummed a restless beat on the bed frame.

She winced over his matter-of-fact tone. Voicing her fear only smothered the hope she'd carried. It didn’t feel as though she were alone in the world. "I have no clothes, no money. I don’t know where . . ." Forcing back the knot of fear clogging her throat, she turned to the window. "How do I get home when I don't know where home is?" 

"You've got a little Fenway in your voice. Maybe Boston?"

Sensing his gaze challenging her, she didn't want to confirm the cynicism in his eyes. Barnes didn't trust her. Hell, he'd already convicted her— of something. "The doctor says I might be released tomorrow."

"They're not likely to dump you on the highway."

Frustrated tears burned behind her eyes. She hated the logic in his voice. Hated that he didn't trust her. Hated
him
. A ridiculously attractive man . . . Under normal circumstances his confident gaze likely caused hearts to flutter . . . with anticipation. Instead, hers was clutching with fear. Barnes had already decided she was the enemy.

Maybe he was right. "Captain Jonas said I could stay with him . . . but I don't know if that's appropriate." When Barnes startled, she wondered why. When
she
was the one with everything to lose.

***

Matt had studied her for hours. While she slept, blonde curls slipping free of a braid, the silken strands curling into her neck. While she tried to ignore him, full, red lips compressed in an intimidating line. A futile attempt at control. And now, as she began to unravel. Her expression shell-shocked, she held it together— barely. Dark smudges under weary, emerald eyes painted a fragility that didn’t match the frustration in her voice. But he wasn’t fooled. She was one of
those
women . . . beautiful. Pampered.

Her reference to a Tom Ford briefcase . . . Hell, he'd had to look it up. And no wonder. A briefcase costing two grand? Okay, so she was rich. A rich, sexy blonde— content to let her angel face do the heavy lifting.  

"We’ll find somewhere for you to stay until we get to the bottom of this." And it sure as hell wouldn't be with Steve. What was Jonas thinking? Sorority Barbie was a link— to something. Possibly a big something. She sure as hell wasn’t leaving town. The drug residue on her clothes was too good a lead. While her personal labwork was clean . . . she remained their only link. And thus far— their only suspect. But to what?

"Has anything come to you? Memories? Images?" He’d called Dr. Bannett— voluntarily this time. She’d obliged him with a crash course in amnesia. Matt figured it couldn’t hurt to give the agency shrink someone else to focus on for a change. He’d met with her on and off since the shooting— and he was damn tired of ‘resolving’ his feelings. The resolution was he lived and Pam died.

"Fragments-"

A flush of color stained her cheeks. Something embarrassing. "Memories can take the form of symbols," he suggested. Dr. Bannett had explained that in some amnesia patients memories were trapped in dream-like images.

"I see a lion's paw. How’s that for obscure?"

Her disgruntled expression suggested he probably shouldn’t smile. "You know it's a lion’s paw?"

Annoyance flashed in increasingly pretty eyes. "It's just . . . a really big paw." 

Relief flowed at Julie's improbable story. She was likely guilty— of something. That knowledge—
that belief
— would keep him in line. Because otherwise she'd be dangerously appealing. "Your inability to recognize animal prints will have to go in my report."

"I must’ve missed that day in kindergarten." Her bruised mouth lifted in a fleeting smile. "If we’re done, can you-" She made a shooing sign toward the door.

"Why?"

"I'd like to hobble to the bathroom."

"Why don’t I call the nurse?" Sensing her temper might lead to disaster, Matt instinctively rose. Her expression determined, she landed unsteadily on a bruised and swollen ankle before her face crumpled with pain.

"Ow. Ow. Ow." She teetered on her good leg, frozen between moving and retreating. Before she face-planted, he hauled her against him.

"You need crutches." When his shoulder spasmed a warning, he shifted her to his hip. Great. His lame ass rescue attempt had probably undone a month of physical therapy.

Matt studiously ignored the soft curves thrust against him. The cranky troll exterior housed a soft, curvy body that was wreaking havoc on his nervous system. Giving himself a mental headslap, he acknowledged maybe he’d been in the woods too long.

"Ready for a step?" His fingers tightened on a slim waist. Once he returned to Boston, he'd dust off his dating profile. Maybe reconsider Madeline's perpetual set-ups. His thrice-married mother and her busybody friends maintained a stable of eligible daughters. Brushing against the hint of a perfect breast, he felt perspiration slide down his spine.

Julie lurched away in surprise, her cheeks staining a flustered shade of pink. "Uh . . . sure."

His thoughts turning grim, he shuffled her the fifteen feet to the bathroom, conscious of her fingers digging into his hip . . . branding him. His spine tingling where her arm rested. Her damned curls swinging in his face. The huffing little breath that probably spoke volumes about her pain level . . . but to a groin at code red registered as sex sounds-

He skidded to a stop. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Are we resting?"

Her words muffled somewhere in the vicinity of his ribcage, but their heat scorched through the rest of him like an arcing current. Christ— could he act any
more
unprofessional?

"No," he said through clenched teeth. If she went down, he’d catch hell from the nurses. By the time they reached their destination, his shoulder was signaling the exhaustion of this month's white knight allowance. Relief and disappointment mingled when she pulled away from him. "Think you need a nurse?"

Despite her trembling limbs, she dismissed him with a limp wave before closing the door in his face. Uneasy, Matt retraced his steps.

"Don’t go far." Her demand filtered through the door.

His smile was grim. "Not a chance, sweetheart." 

***

Perched in the window, Matt raised his head when the shower turned on. Was she out of her mind? Five minutes earlier, she’d barely been able to stand upright. Clearly, this called for reinforcements. Tucking his notebook in his pocket, he moved for the hallway and the relative safety of the nurses’ station.

Jerking the door open, he nearly plowed into the dark haired man blocking the entrance. "Excuse me." 

The doctor muttered an apology before taking two steps back. He hesitated . . . glancing at his flipchart, then turned in the opposite direction. Matt’s senses immediately flared. A vibe of uncertainty hung over the doctor. And something else. A vague flicker of familiarity. Dark eyes. Hispanic. He walked away— slowly at first, then more rapidly as he approached the corner, green coat flapping against his legs.

There was no doubt he'd been about to enter Julie’s room. So, why the about-face? Instinct had his legs moving in pursuit before Matt's brain arrived at the same conclusion.

He doesn’t belong here.

By the time he rounded the corner, Matt fought the urge to run. The stranger was already at the opposite end of the hallway. Glancing over his shoulder, they locked eyes. Heart ricocheting with certainty, he read the man’s fear from fifty feet. Before he took off running.

Ski Mask Guy has olive skin
. Why hadn’t they accounted for the possibility of another attempt? Frustrated, Matt skidded to a stop. He knew why. He'd slammed the door on Julie's version of events. Ten weeks on leave had made him rusty. There was no hope of catching him now. And Julie was alone in a hospital bathroom. Unprotected.

OUT OF THE MIST

Available, April, 2016

Dear Reader:

Thank you for reading CHASING MARISOL. I hope you enjoyed spending time with the Traynor family as much as I enjoyed creating them. If you liked this book, please consider leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads. I hope you'll return for Hank's story. In the fourth installment of Blueprint To Love, solitary widower Henry Freeman crosses paths with Annie McKenna. SHELTERING ANNIE
will be available summer, 2016. The first books of the series,
Trusting Jake
and
Falling for Ken
are available at all retail sites. Other books include my traditionally published novel, a romantic suspense,
FOR HER PROTECTION
released in 2010.

Blueprint To Love Series

Book 1: Trusting Jake

Book 2: Falling for Ken  

Book 3: Chasing Marisol (January, 2016)

For Her Protection

To learn about upcoming books, please visit my
Website
or at
Lauren Giordano Amazon page
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Happy reading!

Lauren Giordano