Rogue Rider (Lords of Deliverance) (8 page)

“Pretty sure,” he said, looking up.

“Okay, then.” Jillian was on fire, her heart thudding out of control in her chest. Socks. He needed socks. Socks
weren’t sexy. “We’ll grab you some socks and toiletries.” She turned to Tanya. “Can he wear the clothes out?”

“Of course.” Tanya looked Reseph over like he was a steak and she was starving. “We’ll just have to get creative with scanning the tags.”

Creative. Uh-huh. They grabbed a package of socks and various toiletries, and at the checkout counter, Tanya definitely took advantage of the fact that Reseph was wearing some of the clothes she needed to scan. Jillian was pretty sure he didn’t have a tag down the back of his pants, and after enough of Tanya’s fondling, Jillian found the tag herself… on the outside of the waistband.

Reseph was amused by the whole thing, but Jillian had to admit that while Tanya’s attention made him grin, it was Jillian’s touch that made his eyes darken with heat.

She wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. No, she was sure. He needed help she couldn’t give him, so he had to go. Nothing good could come of getting attached to a man with no past.

“Now where to?” he asked, when they climbed into the truck.

“The feed store, and then the sheriff’s station.”

Going taut, he swallowed, turning his sober gaze on her. “What if they find out I’m someone… bad?”

“They won’t.” She started the engine.

“You sure?”

No. “Yes.”

He said nothing more as they drove to the feed store, and in the two minutes she’d spent paying for eight sacks of grain, he had them stacked neatly in the back of the pickup. He was waiting for her at the tailgate, elbow propped on the top, one booted foot crossed lazily over the other.

“I noticed the floor of your barn storage space gets damp,” he said. “I can use some of the fallen logs behind your house to build a platform to keep the grain off the ground when we get back.” He gave her a lopsided smile. “I can’t run a dishwasher, but for some reason, I think I’m handy with old-fashioned tools.”

The way he offered, so casually, as if this whole situation was run-of-the-mill, made her heart constrict. None of this was casual, or run-of-the-mill, or even welcome. She could take care of herself. She didn’t need him, didn’t want to grow dependent on him, and certainly didn’t want to get used to having him around.

The last time she’d let a man into her life, she’d ended up with more than a broken heart; she’d gotten a few broken bones, too.

“Thanks,” she said firmly, as she hopped into the truck, “but it won’t be necessary. I’ve got it handled.”

He joined her, not bothering to buckle in as she peeled out of the lot. “You don’t like accepting help, do you? Why not?”

Sudden anger welled up from out of nowhere, shocking her with its intensity. “Because when you need something the most from someone, they always let you down.”

“You didn’t let me down when I needed you,” he said quietly.

Wincing with guilt, she whipped into the sheriff’s parking lot, grabbed the bag of clothes and toiletries, and practically ran into the station.

“Hey, Jillian.” Matthew Evans, who had graduated high school two years before she had, stood from behind his desk. “Stacey isn’t due in until tonight.”

“I’m not here for Stacey.” She patted Reseph on the arm. “I have a mystery for you.”

“What’s going on?”

“This is Reseph. I found him near my house. He has amnesia and we don’t know who he is.”

Matthew gave her a you-can’t-be-serious look. “Is this a joke?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

After a moment probably spent trying to decide whether or not to buy into her story, Matthew nodded. “Okay, let’s take a report and see where we need to go with this.” He gestured to Reseph with his pen. “Do you know anything at all? Where you live? How you got on the mountain…?”

“No.” Reseph’s voice was level and serious, the total opposite of how he’d been with her and Tanya.

“All we have is his first name,” Jillian said.

Matthew guided them to a couple of chairs, and they spent the next half hour answering questions and filling out paperwork. When they were finished, Matthew stood, and Jillian and Reseph did the same.

“I’m going to contact the state police and hand this over to them. But first, I’ll call the local shelter and get you set up, Reseph.” He turned to Jillian. “It was good seeing you.” He strode out of the room.

“What does he mean, shelter?” Reseph’s crystal eyes searched hers.

Crap. Jillian blew out a long breath. “It’s where you’ll stay now. Matthew and the social workers will help you find out who you are.”

His jaw clenched so hard she heard it pop. “And if that doesn’t happen?”

“Then they’ll get you the help you need to take care of yourself.”

He stepped closer to her, overwhelming her with his size, his presence, his masculine, outdoorsy scent. “I don’t want to go to a shelter. I want to stay with you.”

“You can’t.” She backed up, needing to extricate herself from the magnetic pull that seemed to surround him. “You need things I can’t give you.”

“I don’t know these people.” He sounded so distraught that she almost reached for him. God, how easily he stirred emotion in her. Another reason he had to go. “I don’t want to know them.”

She had to get tough. But not for him, for her. “Reseph, I have enough to deal with on my farm. I can’t keep an extra stray.”

“Stray?” He was on her in a flash—she didn’t even have time to be afraid or question his intentions, because his mouth was on hers and his body was a hard wall against her curves. “Does this feel like I’m nothing but a stray?” he murmured against her lips.

Good… God. No, it didn’t, but she couldn’t risk an emotional attachment, especially with someone who could turn out to be a serial killer or something. Talk about a guy turning out to be something different than you’d thought.

“Reseph, please…”

He renewed the kiss, taking her face in his broad hands, and it didn’t occur to her to protest. In fact, when he ran his tongue along the seam of her lips, she opened for him. He took advantage, driving his tongue against hers and then slowing it down to nibble on her lower lip. His masterful possession had her melting bonelessly into
him. Her breath grew ragged as she got lost in his kiss and the feel of his body pinning hers to the wall.

Her own body strained to get even closer to him. All sense of time and place became only a hazy niggling in the back of her mind as Reseph’s thick thigh separated her legs and his chest pressed against her breasts.

“Take me home, Jillian.” His whispered words tickled her kiss-swollen lips. “I promise you’ll never think of me as a stray again.”

Tempting. So damned tempting.

“What the—?” Matthew’s voice cracked in the small room, making her jump. “Get off her, buddy.”

Reseph went utterly, dangerously still. Then, very slowly, he turned his head. “Fuck off.
Buddy
.”

Whatever Matthew saw in Reseph’s expression made him step back and flex his hand over the pistol at his hip.

Oh, shit. Heart pounding, Jillian slid out from under Reseph’s body and put herself between the two men. “It’s okay, Matthew. We were just saying good-bye.”

Abruptly, the menace surrounding Reseph evaporated and hurt flashed in his eyes. She almost gave in. Almost asked him to come home with her. Instead, she managed a shaky smile.

“Take care, Reseph.”

And with that, she got the hell out of there.

Pain lanced Reseph as Jillian walked away, becoming a deep, sharp ache when he heard her truck peel out of the parking lot. She’d left him. She’d really left him. And it hadn’t even seemed to be all that hard to do. She hadn’t looked back, had run out of the building as if she couldn’t wait to be away from him.

But why? He might not remember being with any women, but he knew desire when he saw—and felt it. When he’d kissed Jillian, she’d reacted like a female who needed her male naked. She’d thrown off more heat than her wood stove, and her body had melted into his so fluidly, so easily, that if they’d been alone, he had no doubt he could have been inside her in a matter of minutes.

So why had she abandoned him?

“It’s for the best,” Matthew, that dick, said. “She’s had it bad enough without having to deal with you, too.”

Reseph ignored the crack aimed at him. “What’s she had to deal with?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” Matthew gestured to the door. “Come on. I’ll take you to the shelter.”

Having no choice, Reseph grabbed his department store bag and allowed the dick to drive him a mile away, to a building that looked like an old prison. Or prison hospital.

Deputy Dick confirmed his suspicions. “This used to be a sanitarium.”

“And now it’s a homeless shelter? You have a big problem with homelessness here?”

“We had to reopen it when the demons came. It’s not a homeless shelter as much as it is a women’s shelter.” He gestured to a side yard, where a half-dozen kids were building a snowman near the swing set. “Most of them have homes.”

“Then why would they be living here with their kids?”

“A lot of their husbands went off to fight and never came home. These women are afraid to be alone.”

“But the demons are gone.”

The deputy’s expression turned sad. “Not for them.”

They went inside, and shit, the shelter was depressing. Someone had tried to dress the place up with colorful paint, construction paper artwork, and cheap Christmas garland on the gray, cracked walls and rusted iron railings, but it was still a
gore-toad
in a kitten suit.

Wait… what the hell was a
gore-toad
? Were things starting to come back to him? God, he hoped so. With Jillian gone, he needed
something
to grab onto.

And dammit, why had she left him?

A gray-haired lady met them at the desk, and Reseph allowed her to lead him to a cell with concrete walls, a
cot, and a two-drawer metal filing cabinet that doubled as a dresser.

This was going to be his home.

It was nothing like Jillian’s warm, cozy cabin.

The lady, Nancy, handed him a clipboard with paperwork. “I need you to fill out everything you can, and sign where indicated. There’s a sheet of rules and a schedule you need to agree to. Everyone chips in to help out, from cleaning to laundry to yard work and cooking. Men’s bathroom is down the hall.”

She left him alone with his paperwork and a skinny black pen.

He sank down onto the cot with his plastic bag of everything he owned in the world. But even that wasn’t his, was it? Jillian had bought the stuff for him.

So what now? He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be away from Jillian. That kiss… damn, that kiss. He’d been attracted to her before, but there had been some serious chemistry behind the intimacy they’d shared.

Yeah, the earth had moved for her so much that she left you like a mongrel dumped at the pound.

His fingers tightened on the bag. Maybe he’d scared her more than she’d let on. Maybe he’d been too much of a burden.

He considered everything she’d done for him, from hauling him to her house and taking care of him, to cooking for him, buying him clothes, and getting him help. Okay, so he’d been a burden. But he didn’t have to be. While he worked on trying to find out who he was he could help out around her house. Earn his keep like he’d be doing here.

“She didn’t give you that option, idiot.”

Muttering to himself, he looked out the narrow, barred
window at the playground, where a woman was watching over kids engaged in a snowball fight. Every once in a while, she smiled at them, but Reseph recognized her nervousness. Her tense posture was set in fight-or-flight mode, and her gaze kept darting to their surroundings, as if she expected monsters to jump out at her at any time.

These women are afraid to be alone.
Matthew’s voice rang in Reseph’s ears.

These females’ demons were still haunting them. Jillian was like that, too. He’d seen it in her eyes when they’d been in the barn the other night. Had Jillian been hurt? Or widowed? She hadn’t mentioned a husband, but maybe his loss was too painful to talk about.

Reseph had to find out more. Surely someone knew Jillian well enough to discuss her.

He tossed the clipboard aside and headed to find Nancy. She wasn’t at the front desk, but he heard her voice coming from a room down the hall. He slowed as he approached, singling out her voice from the other two females.

“I’m not sure I like having a man staying here,” Nancy said. “Especially not one with amnesia. He could be an ax-murderer for all we know.”

So… judge-y. Insulted, Reseph bit back a curse. Nancy could be right, but he could also be a world-famous surgeon who donated time and money to orphans in third-world countries.

“Didn’t the deputy say they were going to run his fingerprints?” asked a woman whose voice was a two-pack-a-day rasp.

“That’ll only help if his fingerprints are in a database,” said another woman.

“I don’t know about you,” Two-packer said, “but given
what happened to the Bjornsen couple, the fact that this Reseph person was found only a mile away from them makes me nervous.”