Sheltered by the Lawman (Lawmen of Wyoming Book 5) Read online

  That settled it. He had no choice but to stay and watch over her.

  He dragged his hands from his pockets and adjusted his Stetson.

  “I’ll stay. There was a comfortable looking couch out in the lobby I can crash on,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Don’t you have a family to get home to? Will they understand?”

  “There’s no one that’ll care.”

  “I can’t thank you enough.” The sincerity in her expression drove through him like a wrecking ball.

  “It’s time for you to get some sleep. It’s the best medicine. I’ll see you later.” He swung open the door, gave her one last look over his shoulder and headed into the corridor. He took off his hat and raked his hand through his hair, shaking his head. Somewhere in all this he had become her caregiver, her protector, and how would that affect him apprehending her when the time came? Well, it wasn’t as if he could detain her tonight. The best thing for her was exactly what he said. She needed to sleep it off. Tomorrow was a new day.

  He stopped in the lobby and looked around at the options for sleeping. A vinyl chair that looked like it’d fit a child comfortably or the two-seater couch that wasn’t any more enticing than a bed of nails.

  With a huff, he headed for the glass doors and stepped into the cool night air, filling his lungs with fresh air.

  Taking out his phone, he dialed his friend’s cell number. Deke answered.

  “Did I catch you sleeping?” Cull laughed.

  “I’m a bit under the weather. Please tell me you have the girl,” Deke said in a raspy tone.

  Cull looked back toward the hospital. “You could say that. There’s been a change of plans, for now.”

  The man’s moan rattled the other end of the line. “Change of plans? Something tells me I’m not going to like this…”

  ****

  Monica looked at herself in the small, milky mirror in the hospital bathroom, squinting against the bright overhead light. Unfortunately, her head was still sensitive, and she had no more memories this morning than she had before. Because of the concussion she needed to rest for a few more days but she was cleared to go home. Her shoulders automatically slumped.

  Home.

  Bracing her hands on the edge of the sink, she stared in confusion. Not only did she have no clue who she was, but she’d lost her apartment and everything in it in the fire. The only thing she had left was a bag full of worn clothing and a few other belongings that seemed as foreign as her reflection.

  Leaving the bathroom, she looked through her clothing, picking up each item and inspecting it with displeasure, and finally decided on the shirt and jeans that were closest to fitting her. Once she was dressed with her hair brushed and pulled into a topknot, she was standing in the middle of the room when the door came open.

  It was Cull, a stranger and yet the closest to a friend she had. Did she even have any friends? Family? If she did wouldn’t they have shown up at the hospital looking for her? Her stomach flipped and she felt sick. What if she didn’t have anyone? The only person she could rely on was the very man standing in front of her looking as bewildered as she felt.

  “Good morning. I brought you coffee. I didn’t have a clue how you liked it, so I took a stab and put in sugar and cream. If it’s not enough, I brought more.” He emptied his pockets of the small packets and dropped them on the table.

  “I think I like it light and sweet,” she mumbled. “Thank you.” Caught up in her emotions last night she hadn’t taken the time to look at him, really look. He was good looking. Very good looking. He was missing his hat today. His dark hair was threaded with silver strands that seemed to belong there as much as the stars in the night sky. His jaw was covered with a thin layer of whiskers making him look like a modern-day warrior. His blue eyes reminded her of a clear sky and were on her with such intensity that she wanted to squirm. He wore a simple white T-shirt and jeans that fit him in a way that showed off the toned muscles underneath the denim. She had an instant craving to reach out and test his strength with her hands, but she refrained, unsure of where those sensations came from.

  He was also very tall, standing a good seven inches taller than her. She had an inkling that she’d always been attracted to tall men and Cull had a way of making her feel protected. That could be dangerous since she didn’t know him from Adam. After he’d stepped out of the room last night to let her sleep, she’d been bombarded with a million ‘what ifs’. Anyone could tell her anything right now and she wouldn’t know the truth. What if he was a bad man? What if he was the one who had set her apartment on fire? He never did say why he was in the building. Yet, why would he stick around if he was the arsonist?

  “Here you go.”

  Monica accepted the coffee and their fingers brushed, but she didn’t have time to examine the electrical jolt that kicked through her because she had a memory flash in her head. Coffee cup. A stain on a coat. Flashy jewels. Had she spilled coffee on herself? And did she own expensive jewelry? With the ratty clothes in the dirty bag, it didn’t seem possible.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  Pulling herself together, she nodded. “I had a flashback.”

  “A memory? Of what?”

  “I-I think it was a memory…but it doesn’t seem like my life and it’s not much of a clue. I had spilled coffee.” She took a sip of the sweet, creamy delicious brew. How was it that she could remember how she liked her coffee but couldn’t remember the important things…like her own name?

  “I hear you’re being released.” He scraped a palm down his whiskered jaw. Was that a sign of stress or habit?

  Placing the cup down, she wrapped her arms around her waist to hopefully control the butterflies. “I haven’t decided if that’s good news or bad news.” He nodded as if he understood her trepidation. “I can’t go back home.” Feeling the sting of tears at the back of her eyes, she refused to cry, especially in front of Cull. He’d think she was a weakling—a crazy weakling. No, she didn’t want him to look at her with pity in his eyes. Whatever happened from this point on, she needed to be strong. At least she was alive because the outcome could have been far different.

  Cull rubbed his hand over his mouth. He looked a little green around the edges. “I wanted to let you know that I spoke with Detective Whitlock last night. I told him about the memory loss and explained you don’t remember anything, so he wants to wait before he speaks to you.”

  “You look worried. Is there more?”

  “The fire was started with gasoline. Someone wanted to get rid of the evidence.”

  Feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders, she dropped down onto the edge of the bed. “Someone intentionally hit me on the head and started the fire?”

  “Yes. Is there anything you can remember at all from the incident? Anything would help,” he asked.

  She focused, trying her best to think of anything from the apartment, getting hit on the head, but all she drew was a blank. “I don’t remember anything. Not the apartment. Not the intruder. Nothing.” She’d gone from being scared out of her mind to bewildered, then back to being scared out of her mind. Who was an enemy and who was her friend?

  He shifted and tucked his thumbs into his front pockets. “There were several things I noticed. The window was left open that led out onto the fire escape and the curtain was ripped as if someone caught their foot on the material as they were climbing out. I’m guessing the intruder climbed out and that’s why I didn’t see him.”

  “Were you watching for him?” Monica asked.

  “No, what I meant, I didn’t see anyone suspicious while I was racing up the stairs. Unfortunately, the fire was set to erase any prints and whoever did this was successful. The place is a total loss.”

  “Was anyone else hurt?” Her heart quickened. Why hadn’t she thought of the other residents?

  “Everyone made it out okay.”

  “If they tried to kill me once, won’t they try again?”

  “That’s a possibil
ity.”

  Realizing she was bombarding him with questions, she needed to know the answers. She met his gaze, fighting back her tears. “So, if they know I’m alive, whomever did this will want to finish the job?”

  One corner of his mouth dipped. “What you probably don’t remember because you were unconscious, the man who struck you over the head and set your apartment on fire also shot off a round of bullets targeting us.”

  “He shot at us? Did you see who it was?”

  “No.”

  She blew out a long breath. “I’m in danger and have no clue why or who wants me dead.” She pressed the bridge of her nose feeling a headache returning. “Are you here because you were shot at? I don’t know you and you don’t know me. I’d think you’d want to get as far away from me as you can. How can I trust you?” Although she realized her words came off as ungrateful, she really was appreciative that he’d saved her and yet it was only the truth. She didn’t know him. Who could she trust? His jaw tightened under his whiskers. Not saying a word, he reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet, flashing a shiny badge. “You’re a detective?”

  “I was, but now I recover fugitives.”’ He shoved the wallet back into his pocket.

  “Like a bounty hunter?” Could she be this lucky? A lawman had saved her from a burning building? “Were you in the area when the fire started?”

  He sat down on the chair. “I was in the building when I smelled the smoke.” He hesitated as if he didn’t want to finish.

  “Go ahead, Cull. Please tell me everything. I need to know,” she urged.

  “If I had to guess, and that’s what I’m doing, I’d say the intruder climbed the fire escape and was waiting for you when you entered your apartment. I’m not sure if the gasoline was poured over everything before you entered or after. When I got in there the fire was already too hot to put out.”

  “I don’t know…not sure why…but I think I remember the strong smell of gasoline.”

  He nodded. “That’s good. Then that would mean the intruder poured it before.”

  Seeing the concern in his eyes, she felt the dam slip some. Swallowing, she held back, knowing once the tears started they wouldn’t be stopped. Yet how could she expect to feel no emotion? What he was telling her was that someone tried to kill her and if he hadn’t been in the building, more than likely she would be dead now. And without her memory, she had no clue why this happened. To top it off, she was being discharged and had nowhere to go. With superhuman effort, she lifted her chin and choked down her tears. “Why would someone want to kill me?”

  “Good question. One I’m trying to figure out.”

  “And I’m no help, am I?”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  She blinked. “Maybe it is. What if I’m a bad person and can’t remember? I could have done something very horrible and made someone mad enough to want me dead. What would be worse than memory loss is finding out I was a horrible person.” Several expressions flickered over his face before he looked at her with complete pity. “After all, I don’t have any family or friends.”

  “You remember that?”

  Shaking her head, she sighed. “If I had someone who cared, wouldn’t they be here now? If someone you love or care for is missing, wouldn’t you inquire about them?”

  “It’s possible your people don’t know about the fire yet.”

  “Thank you for the positivity, but it’s true. I have no one.” Seeing his expression, her chest tightened. “You feel sorry for me, don’t you?” She stood. “I don’t blame you. I’m a mess. This is a crazy situation.”

  “You’re not a mess.” She snapped up a brow and he grinned. “Okay, yeah, you’re a mess, but it isn’t the end of the world. You’re alive and your memory will come back. And if it doesn’t, think of it as a new beginning.”

  His words didn’t help. Instead, they broke the last thread to her composure. “I feel like I’m lost in the dark.” She sniffed loudly.

  He stood. “You’re really upset.”

  Swiping away the moisture from her cheek, she shrugged. “I’m on a roller coaster and I want off.”

  Big, comforting arms caught her and pulled her against a broad, iron-hard chest. After her moment of shock passed, she inhaled sharply, smelling his appealing scent of spice and leather. So, not only did he look good, but he smelled better.

  “If you thought I was a mess before, you’re really going to think I’m a basket case now. The poor woman who can’t remember her name has no place to go, has a murderer on her tail, and she can’t stop crying.”

  “I’ve seen a lot and there’s not much that catches me off guard.” He flexed his arms around her and she had no strength to step away. How could she want to? This felt nice, like finding a perfect pair of jeans.

  What was wrong with her? Sure, she’d been through something traumatic, but there was something else going on that was way more upsetting than a killer on the loose. Here, in the semi-stranger’s arms, she felt such an amazing, overwhelming comfort that couldn’t be explained. Suddenly, she was a raw nerve and he was the salve. This couldn’t happen. Not now—not when she had no clue who she was, or even what she was feeling. With a sudden burst of strength, she took a step back, looking up at him with a jutted jaw. “I’ll find a place to stay. I’m sure I can find a room at a hotel. I have a feeling I’m good at making things work.”

  “With five dollars to your name?”

  “Oh, that.” She sighed. “Wait…how did you know that?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Without any hesitation, he said, “I looked through your bag for some identification. You have no credit or bank cards.”

  She tried to laugh but it fizzled. “It shouldn’t be too hard to find out who I am. Something more than just Monica. There must be an apartment manager at my building—”

  “Monica Warren.”

  She blinked. “That’s my last name? You spoke with the manager?”

  He nodded. “You’ve lived at the address for a couple of years.”

  Monica absorbed the information. “Did the manager say anything about family? Friends?”

  “No,” he said abruptly.

  “I’m sorry. Maybe I’m asking too many questions—”

  “It’s okay. I understand.”

  “No ID. No credit or debit card. And clothes that barely fit. Who exactly was I?” She gulped back a sob. “Why did I have a bag packed? Was I leaving? Or returning from vacation?”

  His features were masked, but his warm expression burrowed under her skin and zapped her blood. “I can help you out,” he said in a husky voice.

  She gave her head a quick shake. “I can’t take your money.” Monica wasn’t even sure she could pay him back.

  One corner of his mouth played with a smile. “I’m not offering money. I’m offering you a place to stay.”

  Chapter 4

  WHAT THE HELL?

  The offer came out easily and there was no fishing it back, no matter if it crossed every boundary known to man.

  Cull hadn’t planned to ask, but he couldn’t let her out of his sight either. Although he should be more concerned with turning her into Deke, that wasn’t the reason why he felt the need to protect her. After the detective classified the fire as an arson, that meant one thing. Monica had been struck on the head and the attempted murderer had gotten away. If the killer realized he’d botched the job, would he be back to finish it right way?

  Damn, he wished he’d caught the bastard, or at least gotten the license plate number if the assailant hadn’t been smart enough to remove it.

  Cull needed to investigate further. He’d eventually catch the shooter, but Monica might be the only one who could help. Her memory would come back, and when it did, he wanted to hear what happened at her apartment. Did she see the man’s face?

  Yes, that’s why he needed to keep her close.

  “It’s not the Hilton, but it has a roof, running water and a bed. And the only flaw is it’s a
one-bedroom apartment over my parents’ garage.” Should he tell her he’d called it home for the last year?

  Her mouth gaped open. “Wait, you don’t even know me.”

  “Well, something tells me you’re not a serial killer, so I think it will be okay. I’m offering a place for you to stay for the time being, not a wedding proposal.” Her cheeks pinkened and he smiled. For someone who wouldn’t seem to be modest, she was and he admired that about her.

  “Oh…I…didn’t—” She clamped her mouth shut.

  “I know you didn’t.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Not really. “I don’t usually invite,” he paused, “strangers to the family home, but my Ma would skin me alive if she thought I didn’t help a woman in need.”

  “But won’t they mind you bringing home…” Something flashed in her eyes. “Someone like me?”

  “Someone who’s found herself in a pickle?”

  “I was going to say a stray.” Her bottom lip puckered slightly. “I’m not the type of girl a man should want to take home to meet his parents.”

  He wasn’t sure why, but that expression needled straight into his heart. He’d been accused of not having a heart by some, mostly women who wanted more than a good time, but whatever the reason his was now beating rapidly and his palms were sweaty. The feeling could only be described as awkward, unfamiliar—one that proved he was out of his comfort zone with this woman. “Now you’re just being too hard on yourself, trust me. We Cade men tend to act like cavemen at times, and I’m sure we’ve scared off a few along the way. I promise that as embarrassing as we are, as outspoken as we can be, we do have some manners and my siblings won’t bother you…too much.” He winked.