Главная страница | Современная зарубежная литература | The Cradle Conspiracy

The Cradle Conspiracy
Robin Perini


CIA agent Daniel Adams, once a prisoner of war, is a loner out of necessity. But rescuing an amnesiac woman left buried alive bonds them in ways neither can resist.All “Raven” knows is that her baby is in danger. All Daniel can focus on is finding the missing child – and protecting Raven every step of the way. Her memories are lost and his are scarred from the damages of war.But as they depend on each other for survival in the rugged West Texas mountains, the pieces of their broken pasts start to come together. Now all they have is the risky hope of a future together as they confront the threat that can destroy them both.







“Best thing you ever tasted. Right?”

With a run of his tongue across his lips, he stared at her. “Yeah, and the cookie’s not half-bad, either.”

“I want to—” Before her brain stopped her, she pressed her lips to his mouth, and her body leaned into him.

Daniel didn’t resist. His arm snaked around her waist and tightened his hold, drawing her to him. He took over, parting her lips, exploring her mouth, holding her captive with his caress.

Lord, he could kiss.

Forget chocolate. She had a whole new favorite taste. Raven wrapped her arms around his neck and held him closer, taking the kiss even deeper.

With a groan he eased back. “This is a bad idea,” he said softly.

“I don’t care,” she whispered against his mouth. And she didn’t. She just wanted to feel.


The Cradle Conspiracy

Robin Perini




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Award-winning author ROBIN PERINI’s love of heart-stopping suspense and poignant romance, coupled with her adoration of high-tech weaponry and covert ops, encouraged her secret inner commando to take on the challenge of writing romantic suspense novels. Her mission’s motto: “When danger and romance collide, no heart is safe.”

Devoted to giving her readers fast-paced, high-stakes adventures with a love story sure to melt their hearts, Robin won a prestigious Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award in 2011. By day she works for an advanced technology corporation, and in her spare time you might find her giving one of her many nationally acclaimed writing workshops or training in competitive small-bore-rifle silhouette shooting. Robin loves to interact with readers. You can catch her on her website, www.robinperini.com, and on several major social-networking sites, or write to her at PO Box 50472, Albuquerque, NM 87181-0472, USA.


Dedicated to the warriors from all walks of life who battle post-traumatic stress disorder, and the families who fight beside them every minute of every hour of every day. May your journey find light, hope, love and peace.


Contents

Chapter One (#uc9f82e8b-8f4f-5e38-8e99-08a5e75d0d5f)

Chapter Two (#u4fcc354d-4285-5590-8191-2e78b0037c1a)

Chapter Three (#ufca4a538-8017-55fc-9f01-dd796480162d)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One

She came to slowly, her head throbbing, crippling pain skewering her temple like an ice pick digging deep. Without opening her eyes, she tried to lift her hand to touch the side of her head, but her arm wouldn’t move, almost as if it were pinned against her body. Confusion swept over her, and she forced her eyes open to sheer, cloying darkness. The air around her was fetid and stale, stinking of dirt, wet wool and...

And blood.

Oh, God. Where was she? Desperation clutched at her throat.

She struggled to move, but her arms were numb. Something held her as if she were encased in a straitjacket. Frantic, she lifted her head, and her face bumped up against what felt like cheap shag carpet. She clawed her fingers beneath her and identified the distinctive weave. This couldn’t be happening.

Instinctively she gasped for air, the darkness pressing down like a vise clamped on her chest.

Was she buried alive?

Her stomach rolled, and bile rose in her throat. She couldn’t get sick. She had to escape.

She twisted and turned, struggling against the suffocating prison, scratching at the rough fabric. It was above her, below her, around her. She fought to free herself, panic mounting from deep within.

She rocked back and forth. Dirt and dust shook free. She sucked in a breath, and her lungs seized on the foul air. She had to get out.

“Help,” she tried to scream, then fell to coughing as if she’d used up the meager air supply.

Worse, the rug had muffled the sound of her voice. Wherever she was buried, would anyone hear her cries? “Oh, God. Someone help me. Please,” she croaked in a voice she didn’t recognize.

Her breathing turned shallow. The air had thinned.

She sucked in one more desperate breath and froze, aware of a new scent, far more subtle than the rest. It penetrated her mind. Sweet, familiar, and so very, very wrong. Baby lotion.

Nausea suddenly churned, and her dread escalated. Strange visions stirred through her. A pink blanket. A tiny crib. But along with the images came stabbing pain in her head that nearly shattered her.

Her thoughts grew fuzzy, and she fought to hold on to reality. Somehow she knew, if she closed her eyes, she would never wake up. She couldn’t pass out. She had to find...

A name flitted at the dark edges of her memory, then slipped away, leaving despair and terror. She turned toward the sweet scent again and breathed deeper. More flashes. Pain. Fear.

A stranger’s voice screaming, “No!”

Lights exploded behind her eyelids and darkness engulfed her, closing around one wisp of memory.

The last sound she heard was a baby’s terrified cry.

* * *

THE AFTERNOON SUN beat down on Daniel Adams from a bright West Texas sky. He adjusted his dusty brown Stetson to block the back of his neck and stood at a fork in the road, not a cloud in sight, not a car to be seen, nothing to tempt him to travel one way more than the other. He could choose a twisting blacktop leading into the Guadalupe Mountains or the county road veering east.

The dirt road headed in the general direction of Carder, Texas. He had friends there who’d made it clear he had a place waiting at Covert Technology Confidential. Staffed with former Special Forces, CIA and FBI operatives, CTC helped people in big trouble with nowhere to turn. The only rule they followed: justice.

Daniel wanted to be there, but he couldn’t put himself back into the battle.

Not yet.

He was still too screwed up from his imprisonment and torture in the small European country of Bellevaux. Right now all he wanted was to find his way back to normal from the PTSD and not eat a bullet like his old man had done to deal with the same thing.

Daniel looked around again, frustrated he couldn’t even decide which way to go next.

He normally made split-second, life-or-death decisions, but that was before. Before he’d been thrown in a dungeon, before the bastards had taken a whip to every inch of his body, an iron bar to his legs, and so flayed his mind with lies and threats that he’d almost broken.

For what seemed like an eternity, he’d fought every damn day with every ounce of strength to stay alive, to not give the interrogator the information he’d wanted.

In the end, Daniel had prayed for death.

Like his old man.

But Daniel was still alive. He’d been found, then stuck full of tubes and even now had more metal holding him together than Wolverine. Against the odds the doctors had given him, he’d healed, then stood and, after six months of recovery in the States, had walked again.

Daniel was broken. He knew it; the CTC operatives knew it. Only his family and his therapist held out hope. Talk about delusional. Daniel knew better.

What other reason would a man sleep outside and walk the highways and dirt roads from Langley, Virginia, ending up in Texas months later? A bit Forrest Gump, but Daniel couldn’t face his team till he knew his PTSD didn’t endanger anyone, until the memories and flashbacks no longer turned him into a terrified beast, striking out at everyone. So here he was, facing miles of desert plateaus, prickly pears and the occasional rattler.

Alone. Mostly.

Trouble followed him. Literally.

Trouble was the name he’d given the foolish dog he’d rescued, who’d warily taken up residence about ten feet from Daniel’s side. He glanced at the mixed breed—some odd combination of Newfoundland and Irish setter that made him look like Chewbacca. Dog must be dying in this heat with all that fur.

Daniel knelt down and slid the duffel from his shoulder. He tugged a metal bowl from one pocket and set it on the ground. He didn’t dwell on why he’d taken to carrying it with him; he just filled the dish half full from his canteen. He rose and stared at the water, then the dog. “What are you waiting for?”

Trouble tilted his head and sat on his haunches, his expression all but saying, Move back, stupid. You know how this works.

Daniel sighed and retreated. “Fine. But one of these days, you’re going to have to come closer than ten feet.”

As soon as Daniel reached the required distance, the mutt bounded to the water, burying his face in the cool liquid.

Daniel had found the fuzz face lying on the side of the road with his leg and hip scraped up after losing a one-sided battle with a car. Since Trouble wouldn’t let Daniel touch him, Daniel had been forced to rig a makeshift travois and drag the miserable canine five miles to a vet’s office. The doc tranquilized the dog and patched up his injuries, but the moment the vet had given him the opportunity, Trouble had hightailed it out the front door and down a back alley.

A couple miles later, the animal had taken up residence parallel to Daniel, walking along the highway, never again getting close enough for even a scratch behind the ears. They’d passed a road sign, listing Trouble, Texas, three hundred miles away, and the dog instantly had a name.

That was a couple of weeks ago. The dog limped less now, Daniel a bit more.

Yesterday they’d made it to the small Texas town bearing the dog’s name. Daniel had stood in the cramped, dark foyer of a B and B, testing his body’s reaction to it, but knew he still couldn’t sleep inside. Nothing to do but move on.

The waitress at the diner had told him there was nothing but lost dreams for miles around. She hadn’t been lying. The beat-up sign he now leaned against—Cottonwood Creek Copper Mine—could’ve come from the 1950s.

He really had traveled west of hell to end up a few miles east of nowhere.

Trouble finished his water, nosed the empty bowl toward Daniel, then moved away.

“We’re a pair, aren’t we, boy?” Daniel said softly. “Too damaged to do anyone any good.”

As Daniel repacked the dish, the dog’s ears perked up, and he growled low in his throat.

“What’s the matter with you?” Daniel turned to see what had upset Trouble and noticed a black vulture circling nearby. “Relax. It’s probably eyeing the carcass of a cow that wandered away from the herd.”

The dog’s hackles rose as he focused his attention on a hill jutting up from the desert. Without a backward glance, Trouble bolted toward the mound. And that vulture.

What the hell? The dog hadn’t left Daniel’s sight since they’d become traveling companions. “Trouble!” The hairs on the back of Daniel’s neck rose, and a warning chill ran through him. He started after the dog that had disappeared from view.

Within a minute the mutt bounded toward Daniel, skidding to a halt a few feet away. Trouble barked urgently several times, ran back a short distance, then turned and barked again.

“What’s going on, boy? Show me.”

Trouble whined and yipped, then ran. Daniel, his gait uneven, took off after the dog.

The vulture still circled but lower now.

He followed Trouble over the small rise, past a dead rabbit, then came to an abrupt halt.

Trouble circled in front of the dilapidated opening to an old mine, the mouth leading into the dark interior of the mountain. When he saw Daniel, the dog barked again and raced into the tunnel.

A mine shaft. Complete with a condemned sign and evidence of a partial cave-in. Rock walls, claustrophobic darkness. He couldn’t go in there. Daniel sucked in a panicked breath, trying to quell his racing heart and the terror that bubbled up from his gut.

The dog didn’t come out of the mine.

While Daniel watched, more loose stones fell from the mine’s ceiling. “Trouble!”

The dog appeared several feet inside the opening and barked furiously.

Perspiration slid down Daniel’s temple. He couldn’t do it. Not now. Not ever. The dog growled, racing back and forth, entreating Daniel to follow.

Bracing himself, Daniel stepped barely into the opening, kicking something metal that clanged off the rocks, like the slamming of iron prison bars. A medieval dungeon. Memories assaulted him. The darkness echoing with screams. No, he was in a mine shaft. Still, he heard the footsteps of his captor. The crack of the bastard’s whip.

Daniel fell to his knees, fighting to stay present, to escape the horrific memories, until Trouble dropped something in front of Daniel and bit his sleeve. Daniel broke free, panting, and his hand landed on a woman’s shoe. Daniel’s gut clenched. High heels weren’t exactly appropriate for trudging around the Texas desert.

Hell. Was there a woman in here?

Trouble grabbed his shirt again and tugged hard. Daniel snagged a small but powerful flashlight clipped to his belt and shone the beam into the tunnel. The crumbling shaft veered left, debris and broken supports everywhere. Trouble bolted ahead and waited at the bend.

Grasping at his primary PTSD tool, Daniel focused on the grounding techniques he’d learned in therapy and forced himself forward into the shadows. An all-too-familiar panic squeezed his lungs. The walls pressed in until the cave morphed into a stone cell.

Pain level, eight.

Fighting to stay in the present, Daniel clutched the flashlight in a white-knuckled grip. He stared at the illuminated circle, narrowing his gaze. Sounds still reverberated. Trouble’s barks morphed into sadistic laughter. The dirt seemed to hold the scent of torture and blood.

He fought against every survival instinct that raged within, that urged him to run. Struggling for control, Daniel moved forward. He wasn’t in Bellevaux, he was in Texas. Broken, but free.

“Anyone here?” he shouted.

His words echoed in the darkness, but only silence answered him.

A sprinkling of dirt fell on his head, and the timbers creaked. He froze. The flashlight’s beam hit a large heap of rocks, filling half the tunnel.

“Trouble?” Where the hell had the dog gone?

Suddenly he heard an odd moan coming from around the tunnel bend. Was that Trouble...or a human?

“Hello? Is someone there?”

Trouble barked, then reappeared to tug on Daniel’s pant leg, frantic now.

Daniel followed the dog into the blackness, concentrating on the small beam of light that helped him keep the nightmares at bay.

The dog rounded the debris and led Daniel to a six-foot-long pile of rocks and dirt, hidden behind the mound from a cave-in. The dog scrabbled among the rocks, desperately trying to dig through them.

Daniel knelt down just as several stones fell away, revealing a bloodstained patch of multicolored carpet and silvery-gray tape.

Duct tape.

Another high-heeled shoe lay a few feet from the mound, and a quiet wail sounded again from beneath the rocks.

Trouble whined and pawed at the carpet.

A steely calm came over Daniel, not complete, but closer than he’d felt in almost a year. Someone was alive and needed him.

His damn freak-out would have to wait until later. He needed to keep it together now.

After propping the flashlight so he could see, he shoved several rocks to the side. The smell of blood hit him, nearly slamming him into a flashback, but he fought for control.

Daniel swept aside the small rocks that covered the carpet, then threw the larger ones to the side.

“Help me...” The voice faded to silence.

He grabbed the Bowie from his leg sheath and slashed through the two taped areas with the knife, then rolled the carpet open. A woman, beaten and bloody, lay half-comatose on the filthy carpet.

Daniel pressed his fingers against her throat and felt the thread of a pulse.

She was chilled and in rough shape, but alive.

Relief loosened some of Daniel’s tenuous hold on his emotions, so he quickly ran his hands over her arms and legs, knowing he needed to get them both out of this death trap fast. His examination didn’t reveal any broken bones or severe lacerations on her body, but blood caked one side of her face and hair. The rest of her long hair spread across the carpet like a raven’s wings.

He’d seen enough of the birds growing up in Texas, and he’d befriended one in Bellevaux while on surveillance. Sitting in the tree above his hideout, for the price of a few breadcrumbs the damn bird had kept Daniel from going insane while he’d been stuck in one location for weeks. After being forced into that godforsaken dungeon, Daniel had imagined the raven’s life. Outside his cell. Outside the prison. Free. Daniel would imagine being free someday like the raven, and used the memory as a lifeline when the world had seemed hopeless.

Maybe this was a sign?

Or maybe he had totally lost his mind, and it was just dawning on him now.

The ground trembled slightly.

Daniel cursed, then scooped her into his arms and stood. “Let’s go, Trouble.”

The woman’s eyes opened, gorgeous, fear-filled eyes, the color of cinnamon. “Who are you? Did I come here with you?”

“I’m not the one who put you here,” he said. A rumble sounded from somewhere overhead. He let out a curse. “We’re in an unstable mine, and we have to get out. Now.”

Her eyes widened. He clutched her close against his chest and took off toward the bend.

The mountain shook again, then a spray of dirt and debris showered over both of them before one of the ceiling supports gave way with a loud crack.

“Cave-in!” Daniel curled her beneath him and covered her with his body, hoping she wasn’t bleeding internally. And hoping to hell the roaring panic slamming through his mind didn’t make him explode. They were being buried alive, and he was losing it fast.

* * *

DIRT AND ROCKS pelted the ground around her, but they didn’t hit or hurt her. The man lying on top of her let out a soft grunt, his broad shoulders protecting her from the onslaught.

The dog she’d seen momentarily, before all hell broke loose in the cave, now sidled up against her and whined, burying his cold nose against her hand. She grabbed its fur, then slowly released her grip enough to pet it, trying to calm the animal’s fears as well as her own.

The man groaned and shifted against her; the contours of his hips and thighs settled over her, pinning her down. She took a panicked breath. Who was he? She couldn’t remember him, and yet he’d protected her.

And why had he said he wasn’t the one who put her here?

She couldn’t be sure of anything with the incessant pounding in her head. Her mind spun with confusion. A bevy of rocks cascaded down the wall, thudding on the ground. At any moment the cave could bury them both.

She knew they had to escape but couldn’t focus on anything except the feel of strong arms holding her and the hard body shielding her from the cave-in. She couldn’t let reality in because something was horribly, horribly wrong. She was supposed to be somewhere. Doing...something. Something important but she couldn’t remember what.

Her heart seized, and she struggled to regain control.

“Hey, you okay?” the man on top of her whispered. “I’m going to try to move and see what shape we’re in.”

As he spoke, his warm breath caressed her ear, helping her relax a bit. She didn’t know why, but she felt safe with him. Which was stupid, considering where they were.

The mountain around them rumbled again, and she trembled, gripping his shirt. He wrapped her closer, pressing her cheek against his chest. Despite his calm demeanor, his heart raced. Did he think they would die here? Her head throbbed like the devil pummeling his way into heaven, but she didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to know they were trapped.

When the tremors stopped, he raised his head. She blinked and stared at his face. The beam from the flashlight had gone dim in the dust, but she could make out his features. Barely. His dirt-filled hair fell over his forehead and nearly reached his chin. The scar down one side of his cheek made him look like a pirate, and the hard pulsing line of his jaw seemed to confirm her worst fears. “Are we going to die?”

The shadow that swept through his hazel eyes was there and gone so fast she thought she’d imagined it.

“No.”

“Thank you, if you’re lying.” She reached up to his face and touched his cheek, his jaw still clenched, contradicting his assurances.

He met her gaze, and his eyes flashed with gold. “Are you hurt?”

She tried to sit up, but rocks surrounded them. Oh, dear God, how would they get out of here? She couldn’t breathe. Her head throbbed worse whenever she moved, and her heart thudded against her chest like she had run a sprint. The feeling that she had to do something struck again. What was she supposed to be doing? Every time she tried to focus, pain stabbed through her brain, triggering flashes of light and odd sounds...and terror.

“My head feels like it’s going to explode, and I’m seeing double. I can’t think.”

She struggled to rise, and the world grayed. She clutched at his shirt, twisting the fabric hard. She panted and stared at him, unblinking, willing the world to come into focus.

The first thing she noticed was the bloodstained carpet, and she gasped. “Was I inside that?”

The man backed away, preparing to stand aside, but she clung to his cotton shirt. She didn’t want him to leave. She needed him close. He was the only thing real in this craziness. “Someone tried to kill me, didn’t they?” she asked, pressing her hand to her bloodied forehead.

She should know the answer, but her entire mind was blank.

“I don’t know what happened,” he whispered, his voice deepening. He stroked the back of her hand, his touch gentle but steady. “But you’re fine. Just breathe in. I need you calm for us to escape.”

His gaze held her captive. He took in a deep but shaky breath.

She did the same. The dog pushed against her leg, and she curled her fingers in its fur again. Daniel exhaled, and she mimicked him, breath for breath. Unable to look away, she pinned her focus on him, inhaling through her nose, letting her lungs expand and fill.

Her grip eased a bit on his shirt, but not enough that she couldn’t feel the rapid heartbeat beneath her hand. “Are you okay?”

Something dark and haunted crossed his face again. A second later it was gone.

“I’m fine, but you’ve got a hell of a knot on your head.”

She raised her hand and felt the swelling and the sticky residue. A small whine escaped her. “It hurts.”

“I bet it does.” He pressed his fingers gently against her scalp. “Why don’t you sit back down and drink while I dig us out.” He tugged a canteen from his belt, tilting it against her lips.

Gratefully she let the water sluice down her throat. “Thank you.” Her voice cleared somewhat.

She took another sip. “How did you find me?”

“Trouble must have heard you.” The man turned and started pulling stones to the side to clear the passageway.

“Trouble?”

“The dog. I’m Daniel, by the way.” He threw a large rock farther away. “And your name?”

She opened her mouth, and nothing came out. Why couldn’t she think of it? Everyone knew their own name. In an instant the crushing pain was back. The flashes of light. Muffled cries and hazy images. Trying desperately to stop her head from spinning, she clutched the heart-shaped locket around her neck like a good-luck talisman. “Oh, my God...”

Daniel turned around at the panic in her voice.

“I don’t know my name.” Her hands clutched at his. “Daniel, how can I not know my own name?”


Chapter Two

The dust from the mine filtered the beam from the flashlight, but it was more than enough to let Daniel know they were screwed. Sweat that had nothing to do with exertion slid down his back. He was fighting off a PTSD meltdown and now this. How could he comfort her when he felt borderline psychotic?

He had to get outside. Fast.

“What’s my name?” the woman repeated, her voice shaking.

Daniel’s grip tightened on the rock he held. He hated the fear and bewilderment in her words, and he’d be damned if he let her see his alarm for both of them.

The blood on her temple oozed again, droplets landing on her dusty silk shirt. Someone had wanted her dead. That person might still succeed if Daniel didn’t dig them out quickly. He had no answers for this terrified woman, and couldn’t give her much in the way of comfort except to wrap her in his arms and hope she mistook his trembling as her own.

Daniel stroked her dark hair. “You’re going to be okay,” he reassured, knowing his words may not be true. “Once that bump goes down, you’ll remember everything.”

“What if I don’t?” She shivered.

He pressed her closer. “You will. It’s common with head injuries to be a little fuzzy.”

She shook her head, then winced, pressing her hand to her temple. “This isn’t fuzzy. I. Can’t. Remember. My. Name.” She paused, her eyes widening, then she whispered, “I can’t remember...anything.”

Swearing internally, Daniel gently stroked her black hair and forced what he hoped was a confident smile to his face. “Maybe we should call you Trouble. You deserve the moniker more than the mutt over there.”

At the sound of his name, Trouble’s head cocked.

“Or we could go the princess route. Sleeping Beauty might be appropriate.” Daniel kept his tone light, trying to divert her focus...and his. “Except she had blond hair. You could be Snow White. Her hair was black.”

A small smile tilted the corners of the woman’s mouth. “You’re an idiot, but thanks.” She bit her lip. “Seriously I can’t just pick a name out of thin air.”

“Then I’ll do it for you.” He studied her amazing brown eyes and once more touched the long, silky strands of hair. Black as night. Or like a raven’s wing... “How about I call you Raven for now? After your hair color. Just until you remember.”

“Raven, huh?” she said, her voice small and vulnerable.

“Raven suits you,” Daniel admitted. “It’s striking and unforgettable. Like you.” He pulled back his hand. “Now I have to get back to work.”

Methodically he picked up one rock after another, telling himself he’d break through soon. But he could feel the churning in his mind and gut. He took a cleansing breath, praying for control.

His hands grew slippery with sweat. He would not give in to the panic.

The shrinks had diagnosed him with post-traumatic stress disorder soon after his rescue from Bellevaux.

Like Daniel hadn’t recognized the symptoms already.

His combat-vet father had suffered from PTSD nightmares and flashbacks as long as Daniel could remember—until his dad had ended it with a bullet to his brain. Daniel had found him, and the sight haunted him still.

At the memory Daniel’s heart raced, pounding against his ribs as if it would burst through any second. He closed his eyes to stall another attack.

A furry nose nuzzled its way beneath his hand. What the hell? Now the dog decided to make friends? Daniel’s fingers curled through Trouble’s coat. If Trouble could work through his issues, Daniel wasn’t about to succumb to his. He had no time to wallow in imaginary fears. Even if they felt completely real.

“We’ll be fine,” he announced, perhaps as much to hear the words aloud as to calm Raven. But he’d noticed it getting harder to breathe with all the dust. He came upon a few large stones, and he lugged them away, one at a time.

Each time he rose to his feet, steadying himself on the leg his captors had broken in three places, it became harder. If his leg gave out, they’d be in a world of hurt. He dragged a wooden beam toward the back and bumped into something. He turned, noticing a big painted box with a large letter C carved into the top. One corner of the lid was bloody, with a few pieces of black hair stuck to the surface. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to recognize the match to Raven’s head wound. Besides, kids’ toy boxes didn’t wind up in deserted mines by accident.

Using the edge of his shirt, Daniel opened the lid. Empty. “Raven? Do you recognize this box?”

Before she could respond, Trouble snapped to attention. He whined and let out a loud bark, pacing back and forth in the confined space. Another rumble sounded from somewhere inside the mountain.

“We’re out of time. I think if I pull out a few more rocks, you can get through.”

She tried to walk, but her legs buckled beneath her.

He grabbed her, and she held her body stiff. “Forget me. Dig.” She pushed on his chest. “Go!”

Another rumble resonated through the earth surrounding them. The mine was collapsing. They had to get out.

Daniel yanked a rock out, then another, speed counting more than finesse now. Within minutes a small hole had appeared.

He shone the light through the opening. The entire cavern beyond was intact. For now.

Raven’s small hand clutched his arm as she crawled up beside him. “I can help.”

“Raven...”

With two hands she grabbed a rock and tossed it into the pile he’d started. “Shut up and dig.”

“Stubborn woman,” he grumbled, but he admired her grit.

They worked side by side, and before long, they’d created an opening large enough for her and Trouble to escape. He peered through the hole. “Can you slide through?”

She studied the gap. “I think so. What about you?”

“I’ll be fine. Trouble,” Daniel ordered, “go on.”

The dog looked at Daniel; then the stupid mutt seemed to roll his eyes. He lifted his paws to the hole and climbed through.

Daniel grasped her waist. “Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Your shoulders won’t fit through that opening.”

“I’ll move a few more rocks, then follow you.”

She hesitated. “Promise?”

“Believe me, honey, I want out of here worse than you do.”

Finally she nodded and reached her arms into the hole. Trouble whined from the other side. Her body slithered through. The rocks groaned in protest and shuddered around her.

Raven stilled.

Dust and gravel landed on her back.

“Don’t stop! Move!” Daniel batted a falling rock away.

Daniel shoved her hips forward, and she tumbled to the ground with a moan, clutching her head. Trouble nudged her cheek, giving her a quick lick.

“Hey! Are you all right?” Daniel asked, as loud as he dared given the avalanche just waiting to happen.

“Yes.”

She rose unsteadily and faced him, too wobbly for his liking. He peered at her through the frame of rocks. “Get outside. Stay at least twenty feet from the mine’s entrance.”

The obstinate woman just shook her head and came toward him. “I won’t leave you. I can dig from this side.”

Another warning grumbled around them.

“Look, lady. This place is coming down soon. A few more rocks, and I’m running like hell out of here. I don’t need to be concerned about you, too.”

She hesitated.

Daniel tossed a stone aside. “Don’t worry. It takes more than a cave-in to do me in. This little challenge doesn’t even break my top five. Now get the hell outside.”

With one last look, she stumbled around the bend toward the mine opening.

“Go,” Daniel said to Trouble. “Guard her.”

A soft whine escaped the dog, but he followed her.

Daniel widened the hole, his adrenaline ratcheting higher with every second. The stubborn woman didn’t weigh more than a hundred twenty pounds, and she’d nearly brought the unstable wall down on them. At over two hundred, he might get one shot to reach the other side, but these stones were like the last blocks in Jenga. Very precarious...and dangerous.

If he was going to die, he wanted it to be out in the open, under the sky, not like a rat trapped in a hole. At least the fight to stay alive was beating back the past—just barely.

He tried to squeeze through, but his hulking six-foot-four frame scraped the edges of the passageway. Damn football shoulders.

Two more rocks should do it.

He moved one, and a spray of dirt sifted over him.

One more to go.

Daniel took a deep breath then tugged out the rock and heard the cracking start.

He shoved through the hole, ignoring the rocks hitting his body. He dragged his bad leg through just as the roar grew louder.

Then the whole damn mountain started coming down on top of him.

* * *

“DANIEL!” THE GROUND around Raven shook, tossing her to her knees as debris scattered over her.

She’d made it to within three feet of leaving the tunnel, and despite several attempts, she couldn’t stagger to her feet. Her aching head spun in the dimming light from outside.

Oh, God, she couldn’t leave Daniel alone. He’d rescued her. She had to get up and help him somehow.

Suddenly he burst around the corner, plowed into her and knocked her flat.

“You’re supposed to be outside!” He scooped her into his arms as if she weighed nothing and hauled her outside through a cloud of dust.

Daniel stumbled, and they went down hard, just a few feet outside the cave’s opening. Dirt and dust spewed from the mine, raining down on them, but Raven didn’t care. They’d made it.

Trouble bounded next to them, barking until Daniel finally rolled onto his back, his face screwed up in agony. He sucked in several gulps of air, then glared at Raven. “What were you thinking? I told you to get out.”

“I wanted to help—”

“Are you always this obstinate?” he growled, shifting his leg, his jaw tightening.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I really don’t.” The blankness in her mind scared her, terrified her. She rubbed her temple. Why did everything seem like a foggy void, one she couldn’t see past?

His lips thinned into a grimace, then he sighed. “It’s a miracle we made it out in one piece.” He scanned up and down her body. “You look like hell. I don’t suppose I look much better.”

She gazed at his dirt-covered figure. He looked great, actually. His dusty clothes didn’t take away from the fact that he appeared every inch the hero. From the stubble on his chin to the mussed light brown hair kissed with sunlight, to the V-shaped body, there wasn’t anything to complain about. When he walked over and grabbed a brown Stetson from the ground, dusted it off and settled it on his head, the look was complete.

She didn’t know what kind of guy had attracted her before, but this one was doing it for her now. She struggled to a seated position. Actually she was seeing two of him now, which couldn’t be a good sign.

“Let me help you up.” Daniel held out his hand to her. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, my canteen is behind a wall of rock, and you need a doctor. We have to get moving.”

She placed her small hand in his and stood beside him. “I can make it.”

He glanced over at her. “I have no doubt of that, honey. We just have to walk to my phone and call the sheriff who patrols these parts. I’d like to try to get you into the shade.”

She took a step and swayed into him, then bent over, resting her hands on her knees. Her stomach roiled, and she swallowed down the nausea.

He snuck his arm around her waist. “We’ll go slow,” he said softly. “It’s been a tough day.”

She leaned against him but tried to mostly stand on her own two feet. Daniel hadn’t said anything, but the hitch in his step told her that he’d been injured. Maybe it was because he’d come to her rescue, but the closer she looked at the scar on his face, she could tell his skin was still healing from recent wounds. He looked like he’d had a rough year, not just a rough day. War veteran, maybe?

The bright sun in the clear blue sky blinded her after the dark mine, so she stared at her feet and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. That’s all she had to do.

One step.

The world spun a little.

Another step...gray clouded her vision. The darkness enveloped her, blocking out the sun.

From far, far away she heard a loud curse and watched the ground tilt toward her.

Then all went silent.

* * *

THE BLAZING SUN hung low in the sky. Daniel’s leg protested with every step, his body apparently not thrilled with carrying Raven’s extra weight, no matter how slight. Shards of pain dug through the spots where the plate and screws held his bones together. All he could do was keep walking.

He’d tried dialing 9-1-1 for help, but signals in the middle of nowhere were hard to come by. Once he thought someone answered, but he never could connect. Hell, he couldn’t even reach Information to get the local sheriff’s department number.

Trouble had taken up his customary position out of reach, though instead of ten feet away, the mutt had moved closer. More like six feet, eyeing the woman in Daniel’s arms the whole time.

“If you were a horse this would be a lot easier,” Daniel groused to his traveling companion.

The dog just quirked his ear and kept walking.

With a quick shift of his arms, Daniel adjusted his burden. Raven had scared him when she’d keeled over. She hadn’t responded when he’d attempted to revive her. Head injuries were nothing to mess with, and for a moment, he’d feared the worst.

When her chest had risen and fallen, his heart had restarted. At least she was breathing, even if her face had taken on the color of buttermilk.

He’d debated whether to turn back to Trouble, Texas, or go forward to Nickel Creek, just south of the Texas–New Mexico border. But he knew Trouble had a medical clinic, so for the first time since leaving Langley, Daniel retraced his steps. He still had a good ten miles to go. Even one more seemed impossible right now.

His foot snagged a rock, and he stumbled forward. Daniel’s arms held Raven snug against his body, but a sharp pang pierced his knee. Something had stabbed or bitten him. He hadn’t heard a rattler. He backed up and righted himself, a long, slow breath escaping him at the sight of the devilishly sharp plant at his feet. The lechuguilla resembled the base of a yucca, but its three-inch-long black spikes at the ends of the flat leaves could spear through leather or skin with ease. Thank God, he’d been moving slow. Those suckers could do some real damage.

He was lucky he hadn’t dropped Raven.

The jostling hadn’t caused a gasp or the slightest movement from her, and he didn’t like it. She’d been out too long. He glanced behind him. As dusk approached, the merciless sunlight dimmed somewhat. Even when he’d been in top shape, it would’ve taken him until full dark to reach Trouble. His leg wouldn’t hold out much longer.

A siren sliced the silence. Daniel tamped down the irrational urge to run in the opposite direction. He had to remind himself he wasn’t in a country where the national police could stuff you into a dungeon, and people forgot about you like you were never born.

He waited as the sheriff’s vehicle pulled a few feet from him.

A cop stepped out and rounded the car. Not your average small-town sheriff. This guy walked with precision and a determined quiet. He had the look of some of CTC’s operatives, and his narrowed expression took in the three of them. “You the one who tried calling 9-1-1? We caught the tower location, and this is one of the only paved roads around. You need some help? Your lady’s not looking too good.”

“She needs a hospital,” Daniel said, shifting her in his arms so the sheriff could see her head wound. “And I need to talk to you.”

The man took one look at the blood on her head and ran to his car. He opened the back door and helped Daniel slide inside the idling vehicle with Raven still cradled against him. The dog hesitated by the side door.

“Come on, boy.” Daniel tapped the backseat.

The dog hunkered back, then scampered into the desert.

“Trouble!” Daniel called.

The mutt didn’t stop, just disappeared behind a shrub bush.

Daniel sighed and gazed at Raven. The cop shut the door on them. “You want me to go after him?”

With a pang, Daniel scanned the empty landscape. Yeah, Daniel wanted the sheriff to go after the dog. Trouble had no water, no food, and it would be dark soon, but Raven was still unconscious. “She needs an emergency room. The dog lands on his feet.” At least Daniel prayed Trouble would.

“He yours? Will he go home?”

“I’m not sure either of us currently has a home,” Daniel said. “We met on the road.”

“I see.” The cop pulled onto the road and studied Daniel through the rearview mirror. “You wouldn’t be that drifter Milly mentioned who came through town yesterday?”

Daniel stiffened. He didn’t like the fact that someone had noticed him. He prided himself on being invisible to most, but the waitress had been way too friendly in that small-town-nosy kind of way.

“She didn’t mention you had a traveling companion. You gonna tell me what happened, and why you’re carrying an unconscious woman down a county road? Or did you find her along the way, too?”

At the suspicious tone in the sheriff’s voice, the hairs on the back of Daniel’s neck straightened. He didn’t need any more problems, so he told the man what he knew.

The sheriff cursed. “Those mines have been abandoned for years. I occasionally find some kids out there playing stupid games of truth or dare. One kid died because he couldn’t find his way out. The state should seal them up.”

“You need to get the carpet and the toy box out of there first. Maybe you’ll find some fingerprints.”

The sheriff plucked his radio speaker. “I don’t have a lot of help, but I can call in some assistance from Midland. If it’s not too dangerous to enter the mine, they’ll retrieve the evidence.” He waited a beat. “You say this woman doesn’t know her name? Do you believe her?”

Daniel met the sheriff’s gaze. He understood what the man was asking. “Wrapped in carpet held together with duct tape? She didn’t do that to herself. Yeah, I believe her.”

The sheriff zipped across the desert and soon reached the Trouble, Texas, Medical Clinic. Daniel carried Raven inside.

A grizzled doctor took one look at her wounds, grabbed a gurney, then wheeled her into a closed area. Daniel followed.

“You with her?” the nurse asked, obviously ready to evict him.

Daniel nodded. He wasn’t about to let Raven out of his sight. Not while she was so vulnerable.

The doctor immobilized her neck first, then bent down. “Can you hear me, miss?” he asked loudly.

She didn’t respond at first, until a child in a different examining room cried.

Raven’s eyes blinked open, and she stared up at the doctor in panic.

“Where am I? Where’s my baby?”

* * *

PAMELA WINTER EASED the rocking chair back and forth, back and forth, her aging muscles aching as she held the child closer.

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. “Mommy’s going to take care of you.”

The baby cooed in her sleep, pursing those sweet little lips as if she were nursing. Pamela wished she could do it, but it was impossible at her age.

“You’ll be fine, my precious girl.”

Pamela let her wrinkled hand stroke down the soft cheeks of the healthy eighteen-month-old baby. So healthy when...

No. Pamela wouldn’t think that way. Everything would be fine. She’d done what she had to do.

The television filtered through the room. Another game show, one she’d watched nightly for twenty-five years. The recliner near the fireplace mocked her with its emptiness.

This wasn’t the home it was supposed to be. She wasn’t supposed to be alone. She was supposed to be here with her husband, with their new daughter. A perfect, happy family. A second chance. A do-over after the horrific way their first attempt at parenthood had turned out. She’d believed her husband had changed. He’d certainly been quieter toward the end. He hadn’t used his fists or his threats as much after Christopher left.

Until earlier that day before her husband died.

Pamela hummed a lullaby and touched the rosy cheek of the beautiful baby in her arms. A perfect daughter. Unlike Christopher, the child from hell. A child with no conscience who, even when he grew up, never felt the need for one.

Thank God his father had finally found an alternative. After yet another stupid stunt, he’d told Christopher to choose the army or jail. Christopher had picked the army, so now he was trained to kill, with no conscience to stop him. Pamela shivered, even though the temperature hadn’t turned cold. Every day she prayed she’d get a telegram, or a knock at the door, along with a military chaplain saying her son was dead, and the world was a safer place for it.

What a blessing that would be.

A key sounded in the lock. She tensed. Her husband was dead. Her son was gone.

No one should have a key.

“I’m home.”

Oh, my God. Christopher.

Pamela vaulted out of her chair, clutching the infant in her arms. What was he doing here? Her son wasn’t due for leave from deployment for another six months.

She couldn’t deal with his horrible temper, his manic and depressive rages. Not now. What was she going to do? He’d kill her if he found out the truth about what she’d done. She settled the baby in the nearby cradle and rose from the rocker.

He could never find out.

Heavy steps clunked across the hardwood floor. She bit her lip.

The tall, strapping man, as handsome and dangerous as his father, strode across the room, the once long, shaggy hair now cut military short. He dropped his duffel in the marble-covered foyer.

“No hug for your baby boy?”

He gave her a smile. A smile she hadn’t seen since he’d become a teenager.

She allowed herself a smidgen of hope. Was the good Christopher back? She embraced him carefully like one would a cobra. He could be that lethal.

Her son stared at her. “Is the baby sleeping?”

She nodded, her throat closed off in fear. Would he be able to tell?

With a grin, he crossed to the cradle and stared at the infant. “She’s even more beautiful than her pictures. Chubby, rosy cheeks. You’ve been plumping her up. I’m glad. She was so pale in the last set of photos.” He kissed the top of the baby’s head. “I’m home now, kiddo. Anyone messes with you, and they’re dead.”

Pamela turned so he wouldn’t see the tears trailing down her cheeks, tears that were an all-too-common occurrence these days. Her arms felt empty again. She picked up the baby and then faced her son. Forcing a false smile into place, she reached a trembling hand to Christopher. “I’m glad you’re home,” she lied. “Safe with us. Safe and sound.”

“I opted out early. I’m back for good.”

She tried to swallow down the terror that clutched at her heart. This wouldn’t work. She couldn’t keep the truth from him forever. Someone would tell him, or he would guess.

Why was this happening?

Pamela hadn’t thought he could leave the service before his five-year enlistment was up. Nothing had worked out like she’d planned.

Everything was so hard now. So wrong.

The baby squirmed in Pamela’s arms and opened her striking green eyes.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said, scooping up the baby from his mother’s arms.

He walked across the room, past the darkened hearth, then sat in his father’s chair, an obvious act of defiance to the man he’d hated.

Christopher examined the infant in his arms. “She reminds me of someone. Who do you think?”

Pamela swallowed, unwilling to answer. She had to get him out of here, away from the baby. She would have to come up with some way to hide the truth.

The television volume rose as a news banner flashed across the screen.

Breaking news. Trouble, Texas.

The picture of a battered and bloody woman took up the entire screen.

Pamela almost cried out in shock at the sight. With a trembling hand, she grabbed the remote and pressed the volume control so she could hear.

“The sheriff’s office revealed the woman was found in an abandoned mine west of Trouble. Referred to as Jane Doe, she cannot identify herself due to a head injury. They’re asking anyone who knows or has seen this woman to contact them immediately.”

Pamela dropped the remote. She glanced at her son, then swayed. “This can’t be happening. That woman is supposed to be dead. She tried to steal my baby.”


Chapter Three

“Open your eyes, darlin’. Please.”

Daniel’s soft, deep voice soothed Raven’s senses. She wanted to do what he asked, but she couldn’t seem to function. She hurt too much. The rhythmic pulses slammed in her temples like a bass drum reverberating through her mind. She wanted to let sleep overtake her again, except for some urgent feeling that drove her to wake up and move. She needed help for some reason. His help. For something very important...

Dazed, she struggled to lift her lids. Through her lashes, unfamiliar images coalesced. The room was dark, save a low light glowing from above the headboard. An IV and monitor were hooked up by her bed. Panic started, then she heard someone speak again.

“That’s it. Wake up now. Just a little more.”

It was Daniel. What a relief. She knew his voice. Trusted his voice.

A callused finger traced her forehead, and she peered blearily over at the fuzzy double image of the man sitting beside her.

“There you go. Keep those beautiful eyes open.”

“Daniel.” His face, handsome and troubled, held her enthralled. He was familiar. The only thing that was. She reached up and touched his cheek, the one with the scar.

He clasped her hand in his and drew it away. “Don’t exert yourself. Are you really awake this time?” he asked. “Awake enough to answer some questions?”

“I think so,” she croaked.

Daniel gave her a small smile, and she could see the relief in his eyes.

“But I don’t know where I am.”

“We’re in Trouble, Texas, at their medical clinic. You had me worried, passing out like you did.”

She licked her lips. Her mouth was so dry. “My head hurts. I can’t think straight.”

“I’ll tell the nurse. Want some water?” he asked.

“Please.”

He cupped her head and held a straw next to her lips. With one sip, the cold fluid coated her throat. She smiled at him. He knew just what she needed.

Even that small movement made the throbbing restart. She lifted her hand to her temple and encountered a bandage. “What’s this? What happened?”

“Before or after the cave-in?” he asked.

“Cave-in?” Hazy images of darkness and falling rocks assailed her. The scent of panic and fear, from a...a dog and Daniel. Dust. Blood. There were some memories there, but none were very clear. She touched the bandage once more. “How did I do this? Did the rocks hit me? What was I doing in a stupid cave anyway?”

“I don’t know the answers to all your questions, but falling rocks only did some of the damage.” He leaned forward, glancing at the curtain. “Look, I don’t have much time before someone comes in, but I do want to help you. Can you try to think about being in the mine shaft before it caved in? Do you remember who hurt you?”

“Someone hurt me?” She furrowed her brow, trying to reconstruct the strange images in her mind. “Why would anyone do that?”

“Think. What do you remember?” he asked.

“My name is Raven.”

“Raven’s not your name.” The man’s expression held nothing but pity. “We made it up because you were panicked about not remembering yours.”

“That’s crazy.” She dug her fingernails into his palm. “That’s the only name I know. And I know you. You were holding me and telling me everything would be all right. We were in the cave together. You held me. I remember you.”

He squeezed her hand. “I was only holding you to calm you down. I’m sorry. We never met before today.”

“It doesn’t seem possible. You’re...you’re Daniel. I know you.” She grasped at the small straw of sanity remaining. “I was in your arms. How can you deny we know each other? Why are you lying?”

The curtain surrounding them was yanked back, the sound of the metal rings scraping like nails on a chalkboard.

A man in uniform entered the room. “Yeah, Adams, that’s something I’d like to know. You sure looked involved with her when I saw you.”

“I was trying to save her life. What was I supposed to do? Dump her and run?”

“No, but you informed the charge nurse you were together when you arrived. You were in the exam room the whole time. Didn’t look like a total stranger situation to me. So what gives?”

A deep-seated fear took hold in Raven’s chest when anger rose to Daniel’s face.

He slowly stood and faced the lawman. “My dog found her, and I tried to get her help. End of story.”

“I also warned you not to come back here alone with the Jane Doe. You make a habit of going against the law? You got a prison record somewhere I should check out?”

Daniel blanched, darkness in his eyes once more. “You go ahead and check.”

“I intend to,” the sheriff shot back. “Now, why don’t you wait outside, while I have a talk with this lady you claim not to know.”

Raven gripped Daniel’s hand. He was her only touchstone. “Please, don’t make him leave.”

“I’m Sheriff Galloway, ma’am.” His gaze sliced across Daniel. “It appears you’ve been the victim of a crime. I need to ascertain the threat. I said, step away from her, Mr. Adams.”

Daniel glanced at their intertwined fingers. “Why don’t you let the lady decide, Sheriff? She doesn’t look all that eager to be alone with you.”

“I said move away.” Galloway grabbed Daniel by the arm. “Don’t press me. You’re two seconds from a cell.”

Daniel yanked his arm from Galloway’s grasp and pushed aside the curtain.

“Don’t leave, Adams. I’m talking to you next.”

Not attempting to cloak his obvious fury, Daniel settled against the wall just outside the partition.

Raven couldn’t believe what was happening. None of this made sense.

“That man claims he doesn’t know you, ma’am,” the sheriff said, pulling a small notebook from his uniform pocket. “Yet you say you do know him. Which is it?”

Her gaze went back and forth between the two men. “I...I don’t know.”

“Did Adams hurt you?”

Did he? She was already injured when she came to in the mine. She pressed her hand against her head. That damned throbbing was getting worse, scrambling her thoughts. “I...I don’t think so.” She blinked hard against the blur Daniel’s face had become. “I think he just helped me. I can’t really remember what happened before the cave-in.”

“So he could have put you there?”

“No. He specifically told me he didn’t do that.”

“What?” Galloway strode out to Daniel. “Okay, Adams, that’s it. You’re coming with me until I sort this out.” The sheriff slapped a cuff on Daniel’s wrist.

Daniel stilled, his face stiff as he stared at the silver bracelet. “Great, just great. Good Samaritan bites the dust one more time. When will I learn?”

Raven stared at him in handcuffs, horrified. Her mind whirled in confusion. She didn’t think he had hurt her, but could she be wrong? Nothing made sense.

His gaze went flat, the light behind his eyes dimming. Expressionless, lifeless, soulless. Instinctively Raven reached out to him, needing something, anything to hold on to, but Daniel turned away from her. “I guess I know where I’m headed. Thanks, sweetheart.”

The sheriff snagged his prisoner’s free arm and snapped the second cuff closed, pinning his arms behind him. The loud click echoed in the room, and Daniel’s jaw throbbed, his neck muscles bunched together. He didn’t look back at her.

She wanted to call out to Daniel, but she didn’t know what to say. She just couldn’t remember. She had to be Raven. Didn’t she?

Then why had he lied about not knowing her?

“I...don’t...remember.” The words stuttered from her. Desperation clawed at her insides.

The sheriff gave her a sympathetic grimace. “If Adams is telling the truth, he’ll be out soon. If not...you have nothing to be sorry about. You’re safe now.”

Sheriff Galloway escorted Daniel out.

The nurse whipped the curtain closed, shutting her in. Alone. Abandoned. The cream-covered cloth fluttered still, a barrier to the world. She wrapped her arms around her body, trying to stop the aching loneliness. Her hands and heart felt empty.

She turned to her side in the bed, staring at the curtained wall. She didn’t blink. Her vision grew blurry. Why couldn’t she remember? Try as she might, just a few glimmers sifted through her. A fuzzy dog’s face, a toy box, and Daniel.

She sighed. Daniel. What had she done? Why hadn’t she defended him? Why hadn’t she fought to make the sheriff understand that she felt safe with Daniel? She reached out her hand, wishing his strong fingers were there for her to grasp.

Her belly clenched. She had the unsettling feeling she’d just made a terrible mistake in letting Daniel go. She curled into a ball. Her fingernails bit into her palm.

Oh, God, what had she done?

* * *

THE NIGHTMARE WOULDN’T end. Raven knew she was asleep, but she couldn’t escape. Wrapped in a carpet. The dust, the dirt, the blood.

She fought against the memory suffocating her, struggling to break free from the prison. Her hands clenched at her side. Not carpet. Sheets.

The clinic. And a presence watching over her. She could feel its malevolence.

She squeezed her eyes tighter, unable to battle the unexpected terror seizing her body and her mind. She swallowed and forced herself to open her eyes.

“Daniel?” she mumbled, praying he was there, despite her letting him down.

Her blurry vision focused. A man stood above her, his face half-hidden by a surgical mask. Not Daniel though and not the doctor who’d treated her before.

“Who—”

Before she could ask, he pressed his fingers around her throat, then clamped his other hand over her mouth and nose. He tightened his grip, cutting off all air.

Please, God. She couldn’t breathe. She twisted against him, each movement sending shafts of pain and light through her brain. He pressed harder, then braced himself and used his knee to hold her to the bed. He was crushing her windpipe.

Panicked, she grappled for the call button, but he yanked it from her hand. White spots filled her graying vision. She couldn’t die this way. She wouldn’t.

Frantic, relying on pure instinct, Raven used all of her remaining strength to drive the flat of her palm into the man’s nose as hard as she could. She heard the crunch of breaking bone.

Her attacker yelled and stumbled back, blood spewing over his mask.

A string of expletives exploded, and he slammed his fist into her head. Pain like a thousand pieces of shrapnel penetrating her skull shattered her control, but she had one chance to live.

Screaming for help, she clutched her head and curled up to protect herself.

Shouting and approaching footsteps sounded from beyond the curtain.

“Damn it!” Her assailant, wearing a white doctor’s coat over jeans, shoved through the curtain, covered with his own blood. He slammed a metal cart to the side and barreled over the doctor.

Raven struggled to take in air through her damaged throat. She heard frantic cries to call the sheriff, and the thud and crash of more bodies and equipment hitting the floor.

The doctor staggered to her side, blood streaming down the side of his face. “Are you all right? What happened?”

“That man tried to kill me,” Raven croaked. “I need Daniel. Someone please get me Daniel.”

The doctor yelled out some orders then bent over her. “Stay with me, Raven. Don’t give up.”

She blinked through the agonizing pain. All she wanted to do was sleep. She couldn’t keep her eyes open. She sucked in a shallow breath. She should have trusted her gut. She should have trusted Daniel.

She had made a horrible mistake. She just prayed Daniel wouldn’t hold it against her.

* * *

THE JAIL CELL was too small.

Daniel lay rigid on the bunk and stared at the tiles on the ceiling, counting the dotted patterns within them. He refused to look at the gray cinder-block walls, and he sure as hell wouldn’t look at the bars holding him in this prison.

Cringing and screaming on the floor, fighting off phantoms only he could see, would go a long way to convincing Galloway he had a psycho on his hands. If Daniel didn’t get out soon, he wouldn’t be able to hold it together. That time was coming closer every second.

His gut filled with panic until one mind-blowing thought intruded. Raven was vulnerable, and he couldn’t help her from in here—or from the psycho ward.

He’d tried not to let her get to him.

Who was he kidding? She already had.

Daniel gritted his teeth, sat up and stared through the bars, clenching and reclenching his fists, his knuckles turning white. His hands were clammy, and he fought the urge to rock in place. He rubbed his wrists. At least the sheriff had finally removed the cuffs. Just in time. Daniel had been ready to throttle Galloway to get the keys.

He hadn’t done it. He’d maintained control.

Barely.

When the bars had clanked closed, the crisscross of scars on Daniel’s back had started to burn. He’d promised himself he’d never be in this situation again. Never be incarcerated. Never be captive and powerless again.

He wiped the sweat from his eyes, restless, edgy, like he was jumping out of his skin. He should have left Raven at the clinic and moved on. He didn’t even know her. She was none of his business.

An image of her pain-filled eyes haunted him, though, hitting him harder than the echoes of remembered screams in his mind. Stronger than the memory of his torturer’s laughter. The snap of the whip. The sound of bones breaking. Those were all trumped by Raven’s small whimper of pain and the way she’d looked at him with such trust.

Good God, lady, don’t depend on me.

Unable to sit still any longer, Daniel rose and grabbed the cold steel bars and shook them, testing the lock. Nothing gave at all. He was trapped. Trapped again. He crumpled to his knees, unable to fight his demons anymore. His fingers ached from gripping the bars, and an animal sound of terror rose within him.

His shoulders shook, and he struggled not to break. Not that it mattered anymore.

The other cells were empty.

“Help me, Lord,” Daniel prayed. “Don’t let me crack. Don’t let me become like my father.”

The doorknob separating the sheriff’s office from the jail twisted.

Daniel stood swiftly, bracing himself to bear his full weight, despite his legs shaking. He froze his emotions inside, hoping his face had gone blank.

The sheriff stepped inside and stared at Daniel.

Galloway leaned his shoulder on the jamb, his relaxed stance feigned. Daniel recognized the tension in the guy’s body. Militarylike awareness. Maybe Special Forces.

“Well, Adams, Milly at the diner verified your identity as someone she served yesterday—solo. Said you were a lone handyman looking for work. She didn’t have anything for you, so she sent you down the north county road to ask at one of the ranches on the outskirts of town.”

Daniel shifted his feet, the urge to shake the bars nearly overwhelming, so he just nodded.

Galloway rested his hand on his gun. “I also had a very interesting conversation with Blake Redmond, the sheriff in Carder, Texas, who said he knows all about you.”

“Fantastic.” Even a good friend like Blake couldn’t have vouched for him with all the rumors flowing during Daniel’s disappearance. He’d been called traitor until he’d been rescued from his captivity, and now he’d just gone for a walk—across the country. Blake could very well have told Galloway to throw away the key.

“Actually, in your situation, it is. The man vouched for you. Said you’re a lot more than a regular handyman. Said you possess some serious skills in a lot of areas. Not that I’m surprised. Your whole vibe says ex-military or mercenary. Doesn’t necessarily say sane.”

Daniel gritted his teeth.

The sheriff crossed one boot over the other. “I know men like you, Adams. I know about the nightmares. The panicked look when you’re trapped in a cell.” He strode over to the door and yanked out an impressive set of keys. “I’m letting you go—”

Daniel’s heart slammed in his chest.

“—but there’s a condition.”

Daniel stared down the sheriff. “Name it.”

“There are no missing person reports filed on Raven, or Jane Doe, or whoever the hell she is. Milly swears you couldn’t have had supper at the diner and made it to the mine fast enough to hurt the woman. Now me? I’m harder to convince, but my gut says it’s not you.”

Galloway stood with the key in his hand, just inches from the lock. Daniel’s breath caught. Open the damn door.

The sheriff turned the key in the barred door. “But, Adams, I think you should keep drifting through. Just because my town’s name is Trouble doesn’t mean I ask for it. And something about you smells like trouble.”

Daniel walked through the cell door, not letting Galloway see his enormous relief or his shaking hands. He grabbed his duffel bag off the floor from where Galloway had tossed it earlier. Daniel slung it over his shoulder, then turned to the sheriff.

“Whether you believe me or not, Raven is in serious danger. Somebody left her to die. She couldn’t have escaped on her own.” If it hadn’t been for Trouble, she might never have been found. She wouldn’t have survived. The thought made him shudder. “I hope you’re better than good at your job, because when the killer discovers she’s alive, he’ll track her down.”

Galloway nodded. “She’ll be taken care of.”

“Because if something happens to her, I’ll—”

Galloway stilled, his stance poised and coiled like a dangerous animal. “You’ll do what, Adams?”

“I’ll be back to find out why,” Daniel warned.

Just then a skinny young man slammed into the room, his cheeks red, huffing and puffing. His new uniform, creased pants and bit of peach fuzz on his chin screamed rookie.

“Sheriff.” The nervous deputy skidded to a halt in front of Galloway. “Sheriff, that Jane Doe from the hospital...someone just tried to strangle her.”

* * *

LIGHTS FLASHED THROUGH the night sky, and the siren rang out. The few people on the streets of Trouble turned their heads to stare as the sheriff’s car raced by. This time Daniel rode in the front seat.

“You said she was safe,” Daniel accused, his biting words cold as he attempted to tamp down the fury building in his gut.

“I didn’t expect someone to attack her in the middle of the emergency room,” Galloway snapped.

“You’re paid to expect the worst. She should never have been left alone.”

Galloway yanked the steering wheel hard to the right, and the car squealed into the parking lot.

Daniel leaped out and ran toward the building, despite the pain in his leg. He raced inside the clinic, to the desk. “Where is she?” he demanded. “Where’s Jane Doe?”

The shaking nurse pointed to the same examining room Raven had been in before. Daniel flung aside the wall of fabric, the squeal of the curtain rings barely registering this time. “Raven!”

She lay on the bed, her eyes closed. Bruises encircled her neck.

At the sight, rage erupted in his gut.

He sat down next to her and gently touched her hand. “Oh, darlin’. I never should have let the sheriff take me.”

Raven’s eyelids fluttered open, then her eyes widened. “Daniel.”

He scarcely recognized the raw, hoarse voice she used.

“Daniel, you’re here.” She clasped hold of his hand. “Don’t leave me, please. He almost killed me.”

“I won’t,” he promised. “Not until you’re safe.” Whoever had attacked her had come too close to cracking her voice box. “I’ll be right by your side.”

He glared at Sheriff Galloway, daring him to challenge Daniel’s vow.

The man gave a slight nod and stepped behind the curtain.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about before.” She closed her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re here...” Her voice trailed off in sleep.

Daniel positioned himself as best he could to watch over her until the shuddering left her and her breathing steadied into the rhythm of sleep. He eased the still-tight grip of her hand, then stalked to just beyond the curtain to where the sheriff stood checking his notes.

Daniel crossed his arms, struggling to stay civil. “Well?”

“No one saw him come in. From what Raven relayed to the staff, someone dressed as a doctor tried to choke her. He appeared to be acting alone. She fought back and must have hit him just right. She probably broke his nose, and he ran out. Nearly took out the doc and the crash cart.”

“You get samples of his blood?” Daniel asked.

“Yes, and I can send them to Midland for forensics, but unless the guy is in one of the government databases, we’re not going to be able to identify him. As it is, it’s gonna take a while for the results.”

Daniel gave the sheriff a sidelong glance. “What if I told you I had contacts with serious forensic resources? Would you give me a blood specimen?”

“These ‘contacts’ of yours could fast-track it?” Galloway’s brow arched.

Daniel nodded. “They can hit all the federal databases a hell of a lot faster than your lab. And they’re certified. You can use the results for the court case.”

The sheriff paused for a moment, his gaze settling on Raven’s bruised throat and head wound. “I’ll get you a second sample. We keep this between us.”

Daniel agreed, then studied the small emergency department. Double doors leading to hospital rooms, a few cabinets and a second triage area. Only two or three staff members that he could see. “How’d the perp know Raven was here?”

The sheriff grimaced. “Local news picked up the story after I called into the clinic to say we were on our way. We don’t get that many emergency calls around here. A few illegals who chose a bad stretch of border to cross, some domestic disturbances and the occasional drunk driver. Can’t sneeze in this town without someone knowing about it.”

“Great.” Daniel swore again silently. “If this story has hit the news, you’ll need a guard on her 24/7. Right now whoever attacked her has all the advantages.”

“I know you’re right, but no can do,” Galloway said. “I’m down one man already, with half the damn county to cover. That’s nearly two thousand square miles. Even if I could spare the deputy I have left, he can’t watch her nonstop.”

“I wouldn’t let you put that prepubescent kid on her, anyway. He couldn’t protect her from a puppy, much less a killer.”

Galloway crossed his arms. “I can stick her in jail for her own protection.”

Daniel’s entire body tensed at the idea of Raven surrounded by bars. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“At least she’d be safe.”

“How do you know?” Daniel challenged. “If you can’t guard her in the clinic, how can you guard her in the jail? Someone wants her dead. All he’d have to do is create a diversion pulling you two away from the station, and you’d be leaving her vulnerable.”

Galloway tilted his head. “So we’re at an impasse. I don’t have the manpower. I don’t have the money. Unless...” He stared at Daniel for a long moment.

“Unless what?”

“Unless you really are some whizbang hotshot military type. Sheriff Redmond said you’re handy with tools a lot more lethal than a hammer and nails. And you’re one of the best trackers and investigators money can buy.”

“Blake Redmond should learn to keep his mouth shut.”

“He was trying to save your butt from an attempted murder charge. Kissing his feet is the least you could do.” Galloway paused. “Seriously, as you so delicately pointed out, I could use the help on this one. The doctor said Raven has traumatic amnesia. Her memory may or may not return. Until we know better, we have nothing else to go on except whatever clues come out of that mine.”

“And the blood sample from her attacker,” Daniel pointed out.

“That, too,” the sheriff agreed. “But, like you said, she needs someone protecting her 24/7. How about it? I could deputize you.”

“That’s a switch. An hour ago, you were running me out of town.”

“Yeah, well, things change. I just need your signature on a form, and you have to take a quick oath.”

Daniel looked back at the curtain behind which Raven slept. He’d promised he wouldn’t leave her until she was safe. He couldn’t let her fight this alone. Someone had tried to kill her twice. Daniel didn’t have a choice, and Galloway knew it. “I have your resources available to me?”

“Whatever you need, though you may have more than I do.”

“Your name makes the request more...official. And just so we’re clear, this isn’t a permanent assignment, Sheriff. You understand that? Once I find out who’s after Raven, I’m back on the road.”

“You won’t hear me complaining. I want my quiet town back.”

“If I need more help—more manpower from my contacts—can I make a few calls?”

“Exactly what are you saying?”

“I won’t get any flack for bringing outsiders into your county?”

The sheriff shot him a speculative glance. “Does Sheriff Redmond also know these mysterious resources?”

“Most definitely. Feel free to call him to check them out.”

“Just what are these ‘outsiders’ going to do?”

“I know people who can look in a lot of gray areas with finesse and speed,” Daniel replied easily. “Their only goal is justice.”

The men’s gazes met. They understood each other.

“I won’t look the other way, Adams, if you go beyond the law...that is, if I know about it,” Galloway said.

Daniel rolled the sheriff’s comments around in his mind. So Galloway believed in justice more than rules. Daniel’s kind of law enforcement. “Understood.”

Galloway signaled his deputy, who had brought Daniel’s duffel into the clinic. “I left your Glock in there. I imagine you know how to use it. You require anything else?”

Daniel shook his head at the dig. “I have what I need.”

“Then I’ll set up the paperwork for you to sign.”

Daniel gave Galloway a nod, then eased aside the curtain and walked over to Raven’s bed. After setting down his pack, he unzipped the duffel, pulled his Glock from its case and checked the magazine. Everything seemed set. With calm precision, he tucked the weapon in the back of his jeans, then yanked his knife and ankle sheath from the duffel’s side pocket. After one quick buckle of the sheath’s strap around his leg, Daniel was able to slip in his knife. Relieved at having his two primary weapons within easy reach, he settled down to wait.

It was odd that being in the tight enclosure in the examining room didn’t seem as bad now. Almost as if the fact that he was officially guarding someone nullified some of the usual discomforts of small places. Of course, it helped that the walls were made of cotton, not stone.

The next two hours sitting on a hard wooden chair didn’t help Daniel’s leg. He adjusted his position, but he couldn’t get comfortable. At least the twinges kept him awake.

Not that he hadn’t been mesmerized by the rise and fall of Raven’s chest or the temptation of her full lips as they parted with each breath, but the shadows under her eyes reminded him of the danger stalking her and exactly why he was here.

The curtain at the end of her bed shifted slightly. Daniel tensed. He palmed the Glock and held it at his side.

The fabric parted. A woman in pink scrubs stepped through. Daniel hid the weapon from her sight as the nurse checked Raven’s vital signs.

“How is she doing?” Daniel whispered.

“Everything seems normal.”

“What about her memory?”

The woman’s sympathetic look evoked an ache deep in Daniel’s chest. He didn’t want his concern for Raven to be so obvious. He was just worried about her safety.

None of this was personal.

It couldn’t be.

His recent stint in the jail cell had shown him just how messed up he truly was. He wouldn’t saddle anyone with that crap to deal with for life. Been there. Done that. Had his father’s spent bullet casing from his suicide to show for it. Daniel wouldn’t put anyone through that.

The nurse checked the IV needle before turning back to Daniel. “The doctor said her memory could come back anytime—or not at all,” she said. “She has a concussion, and he wants to keep her for observation.”

“Isn’t there a quieter location we could stay? A private room maybe? Away from everyone else?” Especially murdering psychos.

“I’m sorry. The clinic only has a dozen beds. They’re all taken,” she said. “This will have to do until something comes available.”

Not good enough. Daniel wanted security, minimal entrances and exits. And distance. As it was, three-quarters of this room could be moved with a harsh breath to the fabric curtain. Besides, the perp knew her location. Nowhere in this clinic was safe.

“Does she have to stay in the hospital tonight? I’ve had enough concussions to know the drill. I’ll check her status every hour, and I can bring her back if there are changes, but I need to take her somewhere more secure.”

The nurse frowned. “I’ll contact her physician. After what happened earlier, I understand your concern.”

“Is there a hotel nearby?”

“There’s a motel, the Copper Mine, just at the edge of town. Run by a bit of a character, but Hondo keeps a clean place.”

Daniel chewed on his lip, not liking the idea of sleeping indoors, but at least in a motel room he had a chance to protect Raven. One entrance and solid walls. “Thanks for the tip.”

The nurse left, and he pulled out his cell phone, powering the thing on for the first time since leaving the mine. He still had battery life—and twenty-four messages, since he hadn’t bothered to listen to them in the past month.

He ignored the voice mails and stared once more at Raven lying on the bed. Who was she really? What was her name? Who wanted her dead?

He put in a call to Galloway’s office requesting a list of missing persons reported in Texas and New Mexico. Galloway, apparently a man of his word, sent Daniel the information quickly to his phone. After a quick review of the small number of cases and watching the room’s TV for any updates, he let out a sigh.

Nothing. The local television story on Raven hadn’t hit the national news or even the big affiliates. At this point Daniel wished it had. Since the person who had buried Raven in that mine knew she was still alive, they were playing against time. More extensive news coverage might give them her name.

His gaze swept Raven’s still body. How could no one be missing her? Then again, maybe she was a loner. Some people didn’t reach out, didn’t create spheres of friends. Some people were totally on their own. Might be nice on occasion. Daniel had tried to disappear, and no one would let him.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/robin-perini/the-cradle-conspiracy/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.