Her Forgotten Betrayal(9)

Lord, she’d completely lost it.

Her hair caught, a man’s fingers clenching, grabbing her from behind. She wrenched away…from the branches of a tree. She swatted at the clinging limbs, disgusted with herself.

“Stop it!” Off balance, she started to run again. “Whoever you are,” she yelled at the faceless man, feeling closer to giving up than she ever had before. “Stop screwing around with me. End this, or leave me the hell alone!”

Only night creatures answered her. There were mysterious sounds to the left as she stumbled forward. To the right. In front of her. A sense of being stalked, watched, shivered up her spine. She checked behind her. Tripped again. Cried out. She closed her eyes, too tired to brace herself as the forest floor raced toward her.

Then her world was tilting, lifting, her body mashing against something solid that was far warmer than the cold, hard ground. Her hands flattened against a wall of muscle. She was being held, she realized, her feet floating above the earth. Her cheek rested against a massive male shoulder. His breath rushed over her as if he’d been running, too.

The man with the gun had caught her. Oh, God. It was finally over.

She struggled within his grip, kicking and hitting and fighting—no matter that she’d thought of quitting just a few moments ago. She was determined to get away now, though she was exhausted and no longer certain if she was awake or dreaming. As she fought him, she forced her eyes to open and peer into the face above her.

She froze, at an instant, instinctive loss.

His features were both familiar and foreign. Tempting and terrifying. The man who’d caught her was a total stranger. And yet, her soul seemed to recognize his as she stared into his cool blue eyes.

She took in the rugged lines of his too-handsome face and the surprising softness of sinfully curved lips that made her long for his kiss. She found herself wanting to hold on instead of fighting harder for freedom. Every instinct told her to trust this intimidating stranger. It was the most terrifying moment she’d experienced since waking in the hospital and realizing her memory was a complete blank.

“Stay with me,” he said, blowing her reality apart.

Stay with me…, something in her broken memory echoed. Something she couldn’t grasp.

Shaking her head, struggling once more against his hold, she felt her mind shredding itself all over again.

“No,” she whispered. Then her world dissolved into images of flames and gunshots and certain death.

…

Cole lifted Shaw’s slight weight and slipped his arm beneath her knees.

“Please,” she whispered, semiconscious. “We have to get out of here. Please don’t leave me again…”

He cradled her head into the crook of his neck. Those were the same words she’d kept repeating at the hospital. Frowning, he struck off toward the Cassidy mansion.

Her terror before she’d fainted had tunneled deep, laying claim to places inside Cole that he’d turned his back on long ago. There was the memory of when they’d been kids and had become lost together in these same woods, caught in a freak snowstorm. And when, as a teenager, he’d stubbornly lingered in the Cassidys’ barn amidst the growling flames that he’d later been accused of igniting. He’d refused to leave without her then, too. He’d ignored the fire scorching his skin until he’d made sure Shaw was clear. Now, after he’d intended to stay away forever, she was in his arms once more.

He was exactly where he’d promised himself he hadn’t wanted to be. Holding her, his body instinctively craving hers, his arms pulling her just a touch closer, then closer still.

He’d always been reckless where Shaw was concerned. Too reckless. From the start, she’d been a forbidden addiction he hadn’t been smart enough to resist. She’d insisted on seeing the good in him. She’d believed that they could make it together, ignoring whatever her controlling father and entitled, abusive brother tried to do to end their relationship. Right up until Cole had needed her faith in him the most. Then in his darkest moment, she had destroyed him.

He swallowed at the memory. What would getting too close to Shaw cost him this time?

He closed his eyes and stopped walking. He let the night’s biting chill clear his mind of everything but the parameters of his assignment—to secure the calm environment her doctors said she needed to regain her memory. He’d catch hell when he reported that he’d broken protocol, even if it had been to get her safely back to the mansion. If he ruined the government’s chances to harvest the information the U.S. Attorney needed from Shaw, his professional ass was grass.

Still, maybe seeing him again had done the trick. Had everything come rushing back to her as she’d stared, dazed, into his unshaven, unsmiling face? Would she wake and accuse him of the same unthinkable crime she had when they were teenagers?