Out of the Mist (Can't Help Falling Book 1) Read online

  "Clouds of white dust? Doesn't that sound strange?"

  "It was a dream," she emphasized. "I dreamt I tripped over a bod-" Mouth open, Julie realized it was probably the last thing she should have confessed. "Forget I said that."

  His eyes narrowed with interest. "Not sure I can do that."

  Great. By the time she finished babbling, she'd be under arrest for a murder she couldn't even remember. "It's been three days. Doesn't someone miss me?"

  "Not so far." His fingers drummed a restless beat on the bed frame.

  She winced over his matter-of-fact tone. It didn't feel as though she were alone in the world. "I have no clothes, no money. I don't know where . . ." Forcing back the knot of fear clogging her throat, she turned to the window. "How do I get home when I don't know where home is?"

  "You've got a little Fenway in your voice. Maybe Boston?"

  Sensing his gaze challenging her, she refused to confirm the cynicism in his eyes. Barnes didn't trust her. Hell, he'd already convicted her— of something. "The doctor says I might be released tomorrow."

  "They're not likely to dump you on the highway."

  Frustrated tears burned behind her eyes. She hated the logic in his voice. Hated that he didn't trust her. Hated him. A ridiculously attractive man . . . Under normal circumstances his confident gaze likely set hearts fluttering. Instead, hers clutched with fear. Because Barnes had already decided she was the enemy.

  Maybe he was right. "Captain Jonas said I could stay with him . . . but I'm not sure that's appropriate." When Barnes startled, she wondered why. When she was the one with everything to lose.

  ***

  Matt had studied her for hours. While she slept, blonde curls slipping free of her braid, silken strands brushing her throat. While she ignored him, full, pink lips compressed to an intimidating line. And now, as she began to unravel. Her expression shell-shocked, Julie held it together— barely. Dark smudges under weary, emerald eyes painted a fragility that didn't match the frustration in her voice. He wasn't fooled.

  Her reference to a Tom Ford briefcase- Hell, he'd had to look it up. And no wonder. A briefcase costing two grand? Okay, so she was rich. A rich, sexy blonde— content to let her angel face do the heavy lifting.

  "We'll find somewhere for you to stay." And it sure as hell wouldn't be with Steve. What was Jonas thinking? Sorority Barbie was a link— to something. Possibly a big something. She sure as hell wasn't leaving town. The drug residue on her clothes was too good a lead. While her personal labwork was clean, she remained their only link. And thus far— their only suspect. But to what?

  "Has anything come back? Memories? Images?" He'd called Dr. Bannett— voluntarily this time. She'd obliged him with a crash course in amnesia. Matt figured it couldn't hurt to give the agency shrink someone else to focus on for a change. Since the shooting, he'd met with her three or four times— and he was damn tired of 'resolving' his feelings. The resolution was Pam died— and he didn't.

  "Scraps-"

  A flush of color stained her cheeks. Something embarrassing. "Memories can take the form of symbols," he suggested. Dr. Bannett had explained that in some amnesia patients memories were trapped in dream-like images.

  "I see a lion's paw. How's that for obscure?"

  Her disgruntled expression suggested he probably shouldn't smile. "You know it's a lion?"

  "It's just . . . a really big paw." Annoyance flashed in increasingly pretty eyes. "Lion is the first thing that popped into my head."

  Relief flowed at Julie's improbable story. She was likely guilty— of something. That knowledge would keep him neutral. Because otherwise she'd be dangerously appealing. "Your inability to recognize animal prints will have to go in my report."

  "I must've missed that day in kindergarten." Her bruised mouth lifted in a fleeting smile. "If we're done, can you-" She made a shooing sign toward the door.

  "Why?"

  "I'd like to hobble to the bathroom."

  "Why don't I call the nurse?" Sensing her temper might lead to disaster, Matt instinctively rose. Her expression determined, she landed unsteadily on a bruised and swollen ankle before her face crumpled with pain.

  "Ow. Ow. Ow." Teetering on her good leg, she froze between moving and retreating. Before she face-planted, he hauled her against him.

  "You need crutches." When his shoulder spasmed a warning, he shifted her to his hip. Great. His lame ass rescue attempt would probably undo a month's physical therapy.

  He studiously ignored the softness thrust against him. The cranky troll exterior housed a curvy body that was wreaking havoc on his nervous system. Giving himself a mental headslap, he acknowledged maybe he'd been in the woods too long.

  "Ready for a step?" His fingers tightened on a slim waist. Once he returned to Boston, he'd dust off his dating profile. Maybe reconsider Madeline's perpetual set-ups. His thrice-married mother and her busybody friends maintained a stable of eligible women. Brushing against the hint of a perfect breast, he felt perspiration gather at his spine.

  Julie lurched in surprise, her cheeks staining a flustered shade of pink. "Uh . . . sure."

  Thoughts turning grim, he shuffled her the fifteen feet to the bathroom, conscious of her fingers digging into his hip . . . branding him. His spine tingled where her arm rested. Her damned curls swinging in his face. The huffing little breath that probably spoke volumes about her pain level . . . but to a groin at DEFCON 3 registered as something else entirely-

  He skidded to a stop. What the hell was wrong with him?

  "Are we resting?"

  Her words muffled in the vicinity of his shoulder, but their heat scorched through the rest of him like an arcing current. Christ— could he act any more unprofessional?

  "No," he said through clenched teeth. If she went down, he'd catch hell from the nurses. By the time they reached the bathroom, his shoulder was signaling the exhaustion of an entire month's white knight allowance. A flash of disappointment mingled with his relief when she pulled away. "Think you need a nurse?"

  Despite her trembling limbs, she dismissed him with a limp wave before closing the door in his face. "Don't go far," her voice demanded through the door.

  His smile was bleak. "Not a chance, sweetheart."

  ***

  Perched in the window, Matt raised his head when the shower turned on. Is she out of her mind? Five minutes earlier, she'd barely been able to stand upright. Notebook shoved in his pocket, he moved for the hallway and the relative safety of the nurses' station. Clearly, this called for reinforcements.

  Jerking the door open, he nearly plowed into the dark haired man blocking the entrance. "Excuse me."

  The doctor muttered an apology before taking two steps back. He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the flipchart, before turning in the opposite direction. Matt's senses flared over the vibe of uncertainty. And something else. A vague flicker of familiarity in the dark eyes. He walked away— slowly at first, then faster as he neared the corner, green coat flapping against his legs.

  There was no doubt the doctor had been entering Julie's room. So, why the about-face? Instinct had Matt's legs moving in pursuit before his brain arrived at the same conclusion.

  He doesn't belong here.

  Rounding the corner, he confirmed the fake doctor was already at the opposite end of the hall. Glancing over his shoulder, Lab-coat locked eyes with him. Fear. Matt catalogued his features in the flash before he took off running. Hispanic. Maybe five' nine.

  Ski Mask Guy has olive skin. His heart ricocheted with certainty. Why hadn't they accounted for the possibility of another attempt? Frustrated, Matt skidded to a stop. He knew why. Because he'd slammed the door on Julie's version of events. Ten weeks on leave had left him rusty. There was no hope of catching him now. The next thought had him retreating at a run. Julie was alone in a hospital bathroom. Unprotected.

  ***

  Chapter 2

  It took Julie's last ounce of strength to pull on a clean gown. Bracing herself for the
long shuffle back to bed, her swollen ankle shrieked like an angry toddler. She'd been foolish to leave her bed without help. If Agent Barnes hadn't caught her, she'd have landed on the floor.

  For someone tall, he'd certainly moved fast. Her hands had confirmed tough, corded muscle sliding under the warm skin. His body reassured with its sturdiness. Despite his distrust, he'd helped her anyway. Concern had etched what was otherwise a seriously attractive face, his professor glasses accentuating intelligent blue eyes. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

  Several minutes later, the mirror only confirmed her appearance hadn't improved with the grime washed away. Stitches tugged at her hairline. She'd hoped seeing herself might penetrate the clouds in her head. Where memory should reside, there was only an eerie blankness. As though a cold, gray mist had followed her indoors.

  Fear tightened her chest when her battered face offered a haze of unanswered questions. Why had she been on a dark, deserted road far from home? Who had beaten her, leaving her for dead? And more important . . . where was he now?

  "Ready?" A nurse hovered by the door when she tugged it open.

  Her room had morphed into a beehive of activity while she'd been absent. Captain Jonas leaned on the window ledge, in conversation with Agent Barnes. Another officer stood at the door, not smiling.

  "I guess you're feeling better?" Doctor Jeb rose from his perch at the end of her bed.

  "Super duper. Except the hit-by-a-train feeling."

  "We'll fit you with a boot to support your ankle. Once you're up on crutches you can be released."

  Relief and fear hit in sequence. "Where will I go?"

  Jeb's gaze shifted to Captain Jonas. "They'll explain. The orthopedist will stop by soon. They want you released today."

  "Today?" She glanced at the officer stationed at the door. "Is something wrong?"

  "You should sit." Captain Jonas interrupted.

  His expression sent an arctic blast sweeping over her. "What happened?"

  While Jonas spoke to the officer, Barnes approached, expression grave. "Someone tried to get in."

  "Here?" She reached for the bedrail. "While I was in the shower?"

  "I surprised him at the door."

  Fear scraped her spine. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shivered. "Why does he want me?"

  "We don't know— yet." Jonas' voice gentled. "We'd like you to consider protective custody."

  "P-protective- What does that mean?" Her heart in overdrive, Julie swiped her eyes on her sleeve. She needed to remain in control— learn what was about to happen to her.

  "Until we know why someone's after you, we'd place you somewhere safe for the next few days," he explained. "As you regain your memory, we'll work to get you home safely."

  "Where will I be safe?" Julie latched onto the captain's warm gaze, the only thing in the room that didn't intimidate. "I don't think I know anyone here."

  "You'd stay with me." Agent Barnes finally spoke. "My lake house has a good defensive position. We'll post a guard to be sure."

  Defensive position? The surreal nightmare began closing in. "You drew the short straw?"

  He actually cracked a smile. "Steve runs a part-time department. They don't have manpower for this."

  "We only have seven cops— including me." Jonas acknowledged her surprise before settling his bulky frame in the chair.

  "There isn't a room— like at the police station?" There had to be other options. "Or a hotel?"

  "This isn't a vacation, Julie."

  Her temper ignited over Barnes' stupid comment. "I may have forgotten everything else, but not why I'm stuck here." Ignoring him, she zeroed in on Captain Jonas. "What are his credentials for this sort of thing?"

  "I have a suitable place and I'm willing."

  "I should trust you? You don't believe me." Julie eyed him defiantly. "You don't even like me."

  "Matt-" Jonas cleared his throat.

  For a nanosecond, Barnes had the grace to appear chagrined. "At least you know my name. That's more than I get."

  Jonas' baritone chuckle washed over her, not quite reassuring, but offering a brief moment of normalcy in a world suddenly gone mad. "Is he a police officer?"

  "Honey, Matt handles this stuff in his sleep. He's closed hundreds of drug cases-"

  "Drugs?" Shock rippled through her. What drugs?

  Matt shot the captain a warning look that made him straighten. "We have reason to believe the man hunting you is involved in a trafficking ring."

  Julie concentrated, her head still hopelessly shrouded in fog. "Wait— that means you think I'm involved in a drug trafficking ring?"

  "That's a distinct possibility." In a heartbeat, his demeanor turned deadly serious.

  Her heart began thudding in panic. "Who are you?"

  "Special Agent Barnes, DEA."

  "There's no way I-"

  "We'll have a team here tomorrow." Agent Barnes cut off her stumbling explanation. "You'll be placed in a safehouse-"

  Julie tried to focus, her brain overloaded with questions. "A team?"

  Matt must have sensed her overwhelm. "From the agency. We'll hunker down at the cottage tonight. Steve will lend an officer to act as guard."

  She startled over his choice of words. Officer. Instinctively, she knew it meant something.

  "You'll be safe," he reassured when she didn't respond.

  "What if he finds us?" Her brain was short-circuiting under the weight of unanswered questions. A nugget of information lurked at the edge of her conscience— something important trapped in the cobwebs cluttering her mind.

  "Then we protect you."

  Julie fought to catch the elusive memory. Drugs. That zing of certainty again. She saw the phone in her hand . . . her fingers fumbling to dial. "I saw— I saw the drugs," she blurted out before the image dissolved. "I was warning someone."

  "Warning . . . Tori?" Sinking back against the pillow, she read skepticism in their eyes. "Maybe she's . . . a cop?"

  "Working drug enforcement?" Barnes' blank expression seemed to mock.

  "Is it that hard to check?" Fighting a wave of exhaustion, she struggled to sit up. Startled when he offered his arm, she clutched it, the tingling sensation of heated skin the only warm thing about him. "Maybe I saw something— and I didn't know what to do."

  Though his expression remained grim, Barnes withdrew his notebook and flipped back through the pages. "Tori Stash? Sounds like a porn star."

  Closing her eyes to the doubt flaring in his, she heard the whisper of a name. She was so close- His aggravated sigh jarred her. And like a dream dissolving as you awaken, the name drizzled away. "Maybe I am a drug dealer." Frustration swamped her. "If you would-"

  His expression shuttered, Barnes acknowledged her challenge. "We'll check."

  ***

  In a twisted way, the drug discovery had been a godsend for Matt, offering him a legitimate reason for sneaking back to work. In a gray area, to be sure. But whatever opportunity he was being presented, he couldn't afford to blow it. He glanced into the orthopedics center again, his gaze locked on Julie being fitted for a boot. She was where she should be. "So, you can stop staring at her." He shook his head, pulling out his phone. "Idiot."

  Technically, he couldn't run the op while on medical leave. Not when he hadn't been determined fit for duty. Physically— he was only about eighty percent. And fitness meant more than physical healing. As uncooperative as he'd been, he doubted Dr. Bannett would clear him on the psych evaluation.

  But Mullaney had called him. A Jane Doe dripping in heroin had dropped in his lap. He would damn sure make the most of it. Dialing his friend, he glanced at his watch. Matt wanted to hit the road. Get situated at the lake. Take some precautionary measures before dark.

  "What'd ya got, Mattie?"

  Holding the phone from his ear, he smiled. His friend's acerbic voice conjured the image of his scowling face. They'd worked together for years. Multi-jurisdictional cases that brought DEA together with the state police and local
drug teams from the towns they worked in.

  "Old man, you got a team together yet?" His gaze followed Julie floundering on the crutches. She was tougher than she appeared, the angel eyes hiding a feisty personality that had surprised him. Long hair tumbling in her face, she appeared to be trying to break the land speed record. Long, sexy hair. Hell.

  "Good thing you were rehabbing out at the lake."

  A miracle. One he planned to latch onto. "Will that be a problem? I'm not cleared for duty yet."

  "Hell with that," Mullaney growled. "We'll deal with the red tape later."

  Sean Mullaney bending rules. Relief trickled through him. Thankfully, some things never changed. "You get my update?"

  "Someone took another shot, huh? That's good. She's making someone nervous."

  Wincing at his blunt assessment, Matt heard papers shuffling on his desk. "I saw him up close. I'll get you details for the sketch once I get her out to the lake."

  "What's your take on the woman?"

  "She's in up to her eyeballs, but-" His gaze wandered to the blonde hobbling down makeshift stairs. His throat suddenly dry, he ignored his accelerated heartbeat. Jesus, she had legs-

  "Yo— Matt. You there?"

  "Claiming amnesia," he remembered. Sweating, he shoved the image from his brain. "She might be a dupe or she might be the biggest break we've caught."

  "She blonde?"

  His face heated. "The hospital is releasing her. I can't let her disappear before we figure out the connection." Whatever Julie's role, he couldn't abandon her. She'd be a walking target.

  "Leo landed an SA from the Albany office. They're interested we might've stumbled on a transportation route."

  "From Canada?"

  "According to the maps, you're sitting at a perfect entry point into the States." His friend's voice was unfazed by the bombshell. "You got heavily wooded, unpopulated areas nudging the border. If Viper's using it-"

  "To bring the uncut stuff in." Matt absorbed the theory.

  "Tons of isolated roads. Practically no police. Even the staties— their office is an hour away."

  "His only exposure moving shipments would be when he hits more populated areas."