If You Know Her: A Novel of Romantic Suspense (40 page)

It was her.

She was missing something. Something she was realizing just might have become vital—

Of course, it didn’t help that every fricking day she had to hear his name. She hadn’t even made it home before she heard his name. The calls from Ezra started almost immediately.

Did you not realize there would be questions I needed to ask? Law said you took off, left town. What the hell, Nia?

Then the next day.
Law’s been discharged, although he’s having a hell of a time getting around on that leg of his. Hope’s going to help him out for a few days. I need
to talk to you, ask some questions—you know, you could come back out here, stay for a week or two while he gets on his feet
.

Every fricking day. But it wouldn’t have mattered. She’d still be thinking of him.

Yeah, maybe she’d gone to Ash for a reason, and maybe she’d accomplished everything she’d set out to accomplish. Maybe she didn’t exactly have a
life
there and maybe there were ugly, awful memories there.

But Law was there, too. And she was starting to realize that if she really wanted to get back to her life, she needed to figure out just where Law fit into her life, just what place he filled. It certainly wasn’t her past, though, because she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The phone started to ring. But when she saw the number for the sheriff’s department in Ash, she ignored it. Flopping back onto her bed, she pulled a pillow over her head and tried to just
not
think.

Just let her thoughts drift … that’s how she’d figure out how to solve this problem.

The problem being the massive hole inside her heart.

What would fill it? And the answer was easy.

Law
 …

Swearing, she kicked her legs over the side of the bed and stormed over to the closet. She grabbed her duffel bag and started to pack. She’d only gotten all of the clothes washed and put away yesterday and here she was again, packing them back up.

Damn it. She needed to talk to him. Face him. Figure out just what they had going and what they needed to do about it. He meant something—mattered, and she suspected if she let him, he’d come to mean everything.

The thought both terrified and elated her.

She should, if she was sane, take a little while to settle. Recover. Relax. But she couldn’t because her mind
wouldn’t settle until she’d faced Law again. Until she’d figured things out.

So she packed. She did it with the ease born of habit, making a few calls on the side to let her contact know that she wasn’t available like she’d thought—damn it, she was seriously screwing herself there, but oh well. She was getting so burned out on all the damn travel anyway, all the horror and grief and chaos they wanted her to face when they sent her out.

If she didn’t have jobs lined up, then she didn’t have jobs. She’d figure out something, right?

It took her less than twenty minutes to get ready. She was going back to Ash, damn it. With a much less dangerous agenda, but this one was every bit as complicated.

Her heart was racing as she strode to the door. A hard, determined smile curled her lips as she jerked open the door.

And then, she froze.

Law was standing there, sweating, gripping a cane, one hand raised to knock.

Gaping at him, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“About to collapse,” he said shortly. He nudged her out of the way, none too gently, and headed over to the couch. “Nice place. I’m coming in. Thanks.”

“Ahhh …”

Then she winced as he sat down with a look of obvious pain on his face. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be putting too much weight on your leg yet.”

“I’m not.” He glared at her.

“Then what are you doing walking around?” she demanded.

“You
left
,” he pointed out. “Said you had to get on with your life. That your life was in Virginia. So fine. I’m in Virginia now.”

Edging closer, she dumped her bag on the floor by the couch and shook her head. “Ah … I’m not following.”

“Of course not.” He scowled. “You only see what you want to see.” He reached out, caught her arm and tugged.

She resisted, edging around his leg. “Damn it, you’re going to make me trip over you—do you
want
to be in more pain?” She stepped over his legs and then let him tug her down so that she sat next to him.

He didn’t say anything right away, just pulled her close, tucking her under his chin. Then he sighed. “I dunno if it’s possible. Just being away from you hurts like a bitch.”

“Yeah.” She rested a hand on his uninjured leg. “I know the feeling.”

He pulled back, a scowl darkening his face once more. “Then why did you
leave
?”

“Well …” She shrugged. “It seemed like the right thing to do. I’d done what I came for, just hadn’t planned on you.”

“I didn’t plan on you, either. But there you are.” He cupped her face. “So we didn’t exactly meet under normal circumstances. So what? Does that mean we can’t make it work?”

“No.” She curled a hand around his wrist and leaned in, pressed her mouth to his. “It doesn’t mean that.”

“Then why did you leave?”

“I … shit, Law. I don’t know. Maybe I had to leave, just so I could figure that out.” She nipped his lower lip, then pulled back, staring at him. “And I was heading back. That’s where I was going, actually.”

Law stared at her. Then, slowly, he started to smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Curling up on the couch, she tucked herself against him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I do need to get on with my life, I know that. But I think the
best way to do that is going to involve you, Law. How do you feel about that?”

His arms came around her, strong and sure. For a second, he didn’t respond. Then, his voice gruff, he said, “I feel pretty damn good about that, actually, seeing as how I came all the way out here to tell you that I love you.”

She stiffened. “You … what?”

“You heard me. Now it’s your turn. How do you feel about that?”

Something warm bloomed inside her heart.

Lifting her head, she laid a hand on his cheek. “I feel pretty damn good about it, too, if you want the truth. Because I think I love you, too.”

He cocked a brow. “Think?”

“Hey … gimme some time, Reilly.” She leaned forward, pressed her brow to his. “We got that, right?”

“Yeah.” His hand curved over her nape. “We got all the time in the world, I guess.”

As their mouths met, that heavy ache of pain in Nia’s heart finally started to ease.

Yeah. All the time in the world … and maybe it wasn’t going to be the long, dark walk she’d been expecting.

Some creative license was taken with this trilogy. Carrington County is a fictional county set in Kentucky, roughly an hour away from Lexington.

While I spoke with several lawyers and law-enforcement professionals while writing the stories, I realize certain aspects are still not going to be completely true to life. I hope it doesn’t take away from your enjoyment of them.

There’s just no way I can thank everybody I need to thank, I don’t think. At least not without needing a lot more page space than my publisher can give me. But I do need to mention a few special people.

Thank God for letting me live my dream, allowing me to use it in a way that lets me provide for the family You’ve given me.

I know I’ve mentioned my editor Kate and my agent Irene and I could mention them a hundred times—it still wouldn’t fully express how much I appreciate them.

Again, thanks to Terrie T, with the American Printing House for the Blind, and Kristeen H. Your help when I was trying to build Lena’s character and lay the groundwork for this trilogy was invaluable.

The same to Detective Todd H—I’m sure he thought I was probably crazy when my husband and I showed up at his door one night and I started asking him a bunch of very
strange
questions.

Nicole and Lime for insight into things of a legal persuasion, and fellow writer and friend Rosemary Laurey, although I can’t really explain why and how she helped me … not yet anyway.

There are other writer friends, like Sylvia Day and
Shayla Black, who routinely talk me down when I’m losing it or boost me up when I’m needing it. As well as the time Allison Brennan took to chat with me at RWA, and in various e-mails while I was having numerous freak-outs … whether or not you remember, you helped me out more than you can imagine.

Thanks to my readers as well. You are all so awesome … thanks for your support.

March 2010

H
ER NAME WAS
C
ARLY
W
ATSON
.

The final hours of her life were brutal.

She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t know how long she’d been there. By that point, she was so wracked with pain, so desperate for escape, she barely remembered who she was.

She was twenty-three. She was going to medical school. She was bright, eager, and before she’d fallen into this hell, she had loved life. Now she just prayed for it to end.

She had been stuck in that hellish darkness for hours, days, possibly weeks.

And she knew she would die there.

She knew he was coming back—the door creaked. It was like a death knell, heralding his arrival. As the door swung open, the ancient hinges protested.

A sob bubbled up in her throat as he laid a hand on her calf and stroked up. She cringed away as much as she could, but the restraints at her wrists, waist, knees, and ankles didn’t allow for much movement.

When he cupped his hand over her sex, her scream, long and desperate, split the air.

Her kidnapper, rapist, and soon-to-be killer watched,
amused … pleased with her terror. “Go ahead and scream, sweetheart. Nobody can hear you.”

“Please …” her throat was so dry and raw from how she had cried. How she had begged. How she had pleaded. She almost hated herself, for begging. For giving him that pleasure. Some part of her just wasn’t ready to accept the truth, wasn’t ready to give up.

Even though, in her heart, she knew it was useless. “Just let me go. Please let me go … I won’t tell anybody, I swear.”

He sighed. It was a sigh of long-suffering patience, the one a parent might give a child. He even patted her shoulder as he murmured, “Yes, I’m sure you won’t.”

A loud sound rasped through the air and she whimpered as she recognized it. A zipper. He was getting undressed—no, no, no …

Hysterical panic tore through her and she started to scream.

He raped her again.

Her voice gave out long before she was able to escape inside herself.

This time, though, her escape was final. She had retreated somewhere deep inside herself—somewhere where pain didn’t exist, where terror didn’t exist.

When he ended her life, she never even knew—she was already gone.

Her name was Carly Watson.

It was a lovely day, the kind of day you just didn’t get too often. The air was warm and mild, with clear sunshine beaming down. A soft breeze drifted by. Under the trees, it was just a bit cooler.

The perfect sort of day for a walk.

At least, Lena Riddle would’ve thought so. But halfway through, her dog started getting anxious. Puck didn’t do anxious. Not in the four years she’d had him. But there
he was, pulling against his leash, like he was determined not to let her take their normal route through the woods.

“Come on, Puck. You wanted to go for a walk, remember?”

She tried to take another step, but the big yellow retriever sat down. He wasn’t going to move an inch.

Just then, faintly, oh so very faintly, she heard … something.

Puck growled. “Hush,” she murmured, reaching down and resting a hand on his head. He had his hackles up, his entire body braced and tensed. “Easy, boy. Just take it easy.”

Standing in the middle of the trail, with her head cocked, she listened. The faint breeze that had been blowing all day abruptly died and all those faint sounds of life she could always hear in the woods faded down to nothingness. A heartbeat passed, then another.

It was utterly silent.

Then it came again. Something … muffled. Faint. An animal? Trapped?

She scowled absently, concentrating. There it was again.

Her brow puckered as she focused, trying to lock in on the sound better.

Puck whined in his throat and tugged on his leash, demandingly. Lena turned her head, trying to follow that sound. It was gone, though. The breeze returned and all she could hear now were the leaves rustling in the breeze, the sound of a bird call, and somewhere off in the distance, a car’s motor.

Still, the faint memory of that sound, whatever it was, sent a shiver down her spine.

“You know what, Puck?” she murmured. “I think you’re right. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

She only had a few hours left before she had to go to work anyway.