# Desperate Strangers

Carla Cassidy

Will her secrets get them killed?Nick Simon is using his “fiancé,” Julie Peterson, as an alibi. But when someone starts calling with threats of murder, Julie is drawn even closer to the only man who can protect her…

His secrets might break her heart

but hers could get them killed!

Nick Simon is using his “fiancée,” Julie Peterson, as an alibi—and her amnesia means she doesn’t even know they only met at the scene of her accident. But when someone starts calling with threats of murder, Julie is drawn even closer to the only man who can protect her. Will she remember the deadly secret she carries before a murderer can strike again?

CARLA CASSIDY is an award-winning, New York Times bestselling author who has written more than one hundred and twenty novels for Mills & Boon. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from RT Book Reviews for Anything for Danny. In 1998, she won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from RT Book Reviews. Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write.

Also by Carla Cassidy

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Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Desperate Strangers

Carla Cassidy


www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07876-4

DESPERATE STRANGERS

© 2018 Carla Bracale

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

He wasn’t a killer, but tonight he intended to become one. Nick Simon ran silently through the sultry July night. His heart beat faster than he imagined a meth head’s pounded after one too many hits.

Not that he knew anything about drugs. In his thirty-three years he’d never even tried one. He’d always done the right thing. He paid his taxes on time, had never gotten a traffic ticket. He tried to be a good man, a thoughtful neighbor, and yet tonight he intended to murder a man he’d never met.

The flashlight, ski mask and gun in his pocket burned as if lit with the fires of hell. His thin latex gloves wrapped around his hands like alien skin.

At this time of night he hoped his victim was sound asleep. He hoped he didn’t awaken to see Nick before he fired the gun. Nick didn’t want to see that kind of terror in anyone’s eyes. But if anyone deserved to be terrorized and killed, it was Brian McDowell.

Nick slowed his pace when he was less than a block away from Brian’s home. He tried to control the beat of his heart by taking in slow, measured breaths and releasing them equally slowly. Sweat tickled down the center of his back and wept down the sides of his face.

The night air was thick...oppressive, but it was dangerous to go in frantic. Frantic made mistakes and the last thing Nick wanted was to wind up in prison. A dog barked in the distance and he jumped closer to a stand of bushes.

At just after midnight on a Sunday this neighborhood had been quiet. There had been no traffic to hide from as he’d made his way the three blocks from where he’d parked his car.

Get in, get it done and get out. He pulled the ski mask from his pocket. He had his instructions and if he accomplished this kill, another man would murder Steven Winthrop...the person who had destroyed Nick’s life.

For just a moment a wild, unbridled grief stabbed through him. Debbie... Debbie. His dead wife’s name screamed in his head as visions of the last time he’d seen her flashed in his brain. Bloody...broken and gasping her last breaths. He mentally shook himself and just that quickly the grief transformed into a dark rage so great it nearly took him to the edge of madness.

He yanked on the ski mask and then withdrew the gun from his pocket. Justice. It was what he and five other men were looking for. Justice that had been denied. The six of them had forged an unholy alliance to make sure justice was finally served.

With the sickness and rage of loss still burning in his soul and ringing in his ears, he walked faster toward Brian’s house.

The instructions he’d received along with the gun had indicated that Brian had to die between the hours of midnight and one, and that his house wasn’t air-conditioned so entry could be easily made through an open window.

When he reached the red-brick ranch house, he skirted around the side. If he was going to change his mind about this, now was the time.

It wasn’t too late for him to run back to his car and drive home without the bloodstains of another human being on his hands. But Brian McDowell wasn’t just any other man. He was a thief and a murderer. He’d beaten an old woman to death during a home invasion.

The cops had done their jobs. Brian had been arrested and charged with the murder when items belonging to Margaret Harrison had been found in his home. He’d been charged with the crimes and a year ago he’d stood trial. He’d been found not guilty when the evidence had mysteriously disappeared from the police department.

More important than anything Brian had done was the knowledge that if Nick killed Brian tonight, then somebody else would murder the man who had raped and killed Nick’s wife.

With full conviction, Nick stepped around the side of the house and immediately saw the shattered glass of the sliding back door. A large red pottery planter lay smashed next to the door. What in the hell?

He approached closer, tension tightening his chest to the point of pain. He fumbled in his pocket for the flashlight. He clicked on the light and gasped.

Brian McDowell was just inside the door...on his back...with his throat slashed and what appeared to be a V carved into his forehead. The blood was bright red, obscene vivid splashes of death on the white T-shirt the man wore. The coppery scent of blood hung in the air, half choking Nick.

He stumbled backward, bile rising up in the back of his throat. He swallowed several times against it as he turned first to the left then to the right to make sure he was still all alone in the dark. With trembling fingers, he yanked off the ski mask.

Run. The internal command held a frantic urgency and he immediately complied. He turned, ran back around the house and headed down the sidewalk in the direction he had come. His brain reeled with questions.

How? Who was responsible? Granted, Brian McDowell was a creep who any number of people might want dead. But what were the odds that somebody would kill him on this particular night, during this particular hour?

Who had gotten to Brian just a short time before him?

He couldn’t help the edge of relief that fluttered through him. The man was dead and Nick hadn’t had to pull the trigger. He wasn’t even sure he would have been able to shoot him. Still, he needed to tell somebody, but the men had all agreed there would be no phone calls between them, nothing that could be easily traced.

He’d see them in a week’s time when they all attended a meeting of the Northland Survivors Club. The place where they had all met a little over nine months ago.

Nick was two blocks from where he’d parked when a car without headlights came careering down the street. He froze and stared in horror as it crashed head-on into a large tree.

The car stopped running. The hiss of steam coming from the broken radiator was the only sound in the night. Run, that internal voice screamed. The last place he needed to be was down the street from a murder in the middle of the night with no reason to be there.

Run, that voice urged again. But he couldn’t just walk away from the scene of the accident. Nobody had gotten out of the car yet, which meant somebody was probably hurt.

The airbag that had shot out with the crash depleted enough that one person was evident—a woman slumped over the steering wheel.

Even knowing he was putting himself in danger, there was no way Nick could just walk away. He yanked off his gloves and stuffed them into his pocket, and then hurried to the passenger door and pulled it open.

“Hello?” Her long dark hair hid her face. He knew better than to attempt to move her in any way.

Dear God, was she dead? He scooted onto the seat and picked up one of her lifeless hands. He quickly felt for a pulse. There...her pulse beat erratic and faint.

Crap, he didn’t even have his cell phone to call for help and she needed medical attention as soon as possible. Noticing her purse on the seat between them, he quickly opened it and pulled out her cell phone.

He called 9-1-1, reported the address of the accident and that medical aid was needed. It was only after he disconnected from the call that a new panic set in.

If he hung around for help to arrive, then how was he going to explain his presence there? He’d done his duty, he’d made the call. Surely he could sneak off now.

He had one leg out of the car when she moaned. The pitiful mewling tugged at his heart and pulled him back into the car. “It’s going to be all right,” he said. “I’ve called for help.”

She didn’t move, nor did she moan again. Still he remained sitting next to her, bound to her by a whimper as he faced his own ruin.

He fumbled in her purse, withdrew her wallet and looked at her identification. Julie Peterson. She was thirty-one years old and lived less than a block away. An emergency contact listed her parents’ phone number.

He stared at her driver’s license picture for a long moment. Julie was a very attractive woman. He glanced at her left hand. No wedding ring. As the swirl of red and blue lights approached, a desperate plan formulated in his mind.

Although he wished her no ill-will, if she would just stay unconscious until they got her to the hospital, then Nick could establish an alibi. It was risky, but this whole night had been something out of a nightmare.

The next few minutes flew by as both a cop car and an ambulance arrived. The first order of business was getting the unconscious Julie Peterson out of the car and onto a stretcher.

Once the ambulance pulled away, Officer Tim Brown faced Nick. “You want to tell me what happened here tonight?” A tow truck pulled up where the ambulance had been.

The gun and ski mask in Nick’s pocket once again burned with sickly guilt. “Uh... Julie and I had an argument. She got angry and jumped into the car. I got in the passenger seat and, before I knew it, we’d hit the tree.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t hurt since your airbag didn’t deploy,” Officer Brown replied. Nick’s stomach muscles clenched. Did the man suspect something wasn’t right? A vision of Brian McDowell, bloody and dead, exploded in Nick’s brain.

“Was there any alcohol involved here tonight?”

“No, none.” He hoped like hell Julie Peterson wasn’t a drunk.

“And specifically what is your relationship to Ms. Peterson?”

“Fiancé. I’m her fiancé.” The words blurted out of him without thought of consequence. He just wanted to be allowed to leave.

“Can I see some identification?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any on me. I ran out of the house to stop her and didn’t think to grab my wallet.”

“Your name?” The officer took down Nick’s name and address, and then patted him on the back. “The tow truck will take care of the car and I’ll get you to the hospital. I’m sure you’re worried sick about her.”

The hospital? His web of lies coalesced to form an imaginary noose around his neck. When Julie Peterson regained consciousness, all his lies could potentially result in a real noose around his neck for the murder of Brian McDowell.

The ride to North Kansas City Hospital took only fifteen minutes and, during that time, Officer Brown talked about the hot weather and how the humid, intense heat made people snap.

“Crime is always up during a heat wave like this,” he said. “Thank God the weathermen are predicting a few cooler days next week.” He shot Nick a quick glance. “You’re a bit overdressed for July.”

Once again Nick’s heartbeat raced to a sickly pace as his brain struggled to make a rational response. “I have to wear warm clothes whenever I go to Julie’s place. I swear that woman keeps her thermostat at fifty degrees during the summer.”

Officer Brown chuckled. “My wife and I fight over the thermostat in our house all the time.”

They parked at the hospital and, to Nick’s dismay, Officer Brown accompanied him inside the emergency waiting area. “Julie Peterson was just brought in by ambulance,” Officer Brown told the woman at the receptionist desk. “Please let her doctor know I’ve got her fiancé here with me.”

“I appreciate your help,” Nick said to him as he sank down into one of the chairs.

“It’s my job.” The officer sat in the chair next to Nick’s.

Nick had hoped to shake the man and get out of there. Even though the cop had his name and address, he seriously doubted there would be any follow-up on the accident. But there would definitely be follow-up when Julie Peterson told everyone she didn’t have a fiancé and she’d never seen Nick before in her life.

His stomach muscles twisted into a dozen painful knots as his mind displayed a horrifying picture of Brian McDowell. He’d scarcely had time to process that scene when the car crash had occurred.

And now he sat, next to a police officer, with a ski mask, gloves and a gun in his pocket that he’d intended to use for committing a murder. When Julie awakened and denied knowing him, would he be frisked?

The two men sat side-by-side for the next hour. Officer Brown made small talk and Nick could only hope he responded as a worried fiancé, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the gun in his pocket and the fact that he was seated next to a cop.

Finally a tall, balding doctor walked into the waiting room and headed for Nick and Officer Brown. They both stood, although Nick was sure Tim Brown’s heart wasn’t beating as frantically, as desperately, as Nick’s. His wrists turned icy, as if feeling the cold bite of handcuffs around them.

“How is she?” Nick asked after the doctor introduced himself as Dr. Mitch Carlson.

“The good news is her physical injuries are relatively minor considering the circumstances. She has some bumps and bruises and a mild concussion,” Dr. Carlson replied.

“Can I ask her a few questions?” Officer Brown asked.

Dr. Carlson frowned. “Now I’ll tell you the bad news. She doesn’t remember anything about the accident.”

Nick held his breath. Hopefully, Brown would leave with this news and he could get out of there within minutes. God, he needed to escape.

“In fact,” Dr. Carlson continued, “the last memory she has is of her birthday party ten months ago. She can’t remember anything that happened between then and now. She’s been moved to a room for observation.” He turned to look at Nick. “I told her that her fiancé was here and she’s asking to see you.”

“I’ll come with you,” Officer Brown said. “I’d just like to follow up with her.”

Dr. Carlson nodded. “I’ll take you both to her room.”

Nick followed the doctor and the police officer down a hallway with a sense of overwhelming dread. Was her strange amnesia real? Within seconds he’d find out. He’d either walk out of there with his lies intact or he’d be called out. With no good reason to be on the street where the accident had occurred, he’d eventually be tied to a murder he hadn’t committed.

* * *

JULIE PETERSON WAS AFRAID. She’d been afraid since she’d opened her eyes in the ambulance with no idea of what had happened to her or where she was.

She’d been told she’d been in a car accident. The nurse had explained to her that her car had hit a tree. But those facts weren’t what scared her the most.

Why couldn’t she remember the accident? More importantly, why was she missing ten months of memories? And since when did she have a fiancé?

Surely when she saw the man she was in love with, her memories would come tumbling back. Maybe, when her head quit pounding so fiercely, she’d remember everything.

She attempted to sit up as the doctor, a uniformed police officer and a tall stranger came into the room. “Julie, thank God you’re all right.” The very hot man clad in a pair of jeans and a black hoodie that clung to a pair of broad shoulders rushed to her side and picked up her hand.

This man, with his forest-green eyes and handsome, chiseled features was her fiancé? How had she gotten so lucky? And why, oh, why, didn’t she remember anything about him?

“It’s Nick, honey,” he said. “You don’t remember me?” Her anxiety must have shone on her face. “It’s okay. Everything is going to be just fine.” He released her hand and she immediately felt bereft.

“Ms. Peterson, I’m Officer Brown. Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?”

“No, I don’t mind, but I doubt I’ll be able to answer them,” she said. She wished Nick would take her hand again. Even though she couldn’t remember him, his hand around hers had brought her a small bit of comfort.

And she needed to be comforted at this moment. As the officer asked her questions about the accident, she tried as hard as she could to remember even the smallest detail about what had happened. But there was nothing.

“The last thing I remember is going to the Italian Gardens for my birthday. My parents were there, along with my brothers and my sister. But since my birthday is in two months from now, I’m missing almost a full year of memories.”

A hollow wind blew through her as she shifted her gaze from the police officer to the doctor. “Is this kind of thing normal?” she asked, although she knew it wasn’t.

“Sometimes it occurs that after a traumatic event like a car accident, the patient has no memories of that particular event,” Dr. Carlson replied. “It’s the way the brain protects you from emotional pain and trauma. I haven’t dealt with a patient who has the kind of amnesia we’re talking about here. My advice would be to go home and surround yourself with familiar things and people. Don’t stress yourself and hopefully those memories will return quickly.”

Hopefully? The pounding in her head intensified. She glanced back at Nick. How could she have no memories of dating, of falling in love with him? What else had happened in the ten months she’d forgotten?

“I hope your recovery happens quickly,” Officer Brown said. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

“If your memories don’t come back on their own within the next six to eight weeks or so, then I’ll refer you to a neurologist who might be able to help,” Dr. Carlson said when Officer Brown had left the room. “I recommend no driving for the next week to ten days, and you take it easy. In the meantime, you’re our guest for the rest of the night.”

Once again she looked at Nick. “Will you stay here with me?”

“We can get you a pillow and a blanket,” Dr. Carlson said to Nick.

“Of course I’ll stay,” Nick replied after a moment of hesitation.

“I’ll send in a nurse,” Dr. Carlson replied, and then he was gone, leaving her alone with a man, a virtual stranger, who she apparently loved but didn’t remember.

“I hope you don’t mind staying. I feel so alone right now,” she said. It was such an inadequate statement. She was overwhelmed and terrified by her brain’s malfunction. How had this happened? Why had it happened? She hadn’t sustained any serious injuries that might explain it.

He sat on the beige recliner next to her bed. “You aren’t alone.”

“Aren’t you warm in that sweatshirt?” It seemed an odd choice of clothing for a July night. She only knew it was July because the doctor had told her.

“Yes, I am.” He got up from the chair. “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

This was so awkward. He knew everything about her...about them, and she knew nothing. Her fiancé. Had a wedding date already been chosen? What did he do for a living? Did they live together? Just thinking about what she didn’t know hurt her head.

Nick stepped out of the bathroom, his sweatshirt a wad in his hands. The man had been a hunk in the hoodie. He was even more so in a white T-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders and chest.

He placed the black sweatshirt on another chair and then once again sat in the recliner. “Are you sure you can’t remember anything about me?”

“Nothing. I’m so sorry, Nick. If we’re engaged, then I’m sure I love you madly, but you’re going to have to fill in a lot of blanks for me.”

“I’ll do the best I can.”

“Thank God, you weren’t hurt in the accident. My car...?”

“It was towed to Jerry’s Ford. Tomorrow you’ll need to call your insurance company to get things squared away.”

“Was I still driving a blue Ford Focus?” What might have changed in the past year? Did she still live in the same house? Oh, God, had anyone she loved died?

He nodded. “That’s right.”

“I’m assuming I still work for my family’s pawn shop, but what do you do?” It was far easier to focus on him than anything else at the moment. She couldn’t think about anything else in her life right now. It was all so overwhelming.

“I’m a physical education teacher and football coach at JL Cook High School.”

“That explains it,” she murmured more to herself than to him. Broad shoulders, lean hips and a stomach that didn’t appear to have an ounce of fat...the man appeared to have a great physique.

“Explains what?”

Heat warmed her cheeks. “Uh... You seem to be in good health.” Good grief, he was probably wondering now if she not only suffered from amnesia, but also if the accident had really addled her brain.

A nurse came into the room. “Here we are,” she said with a bright smile. “One pillow and a blanket.” She handed the items to Nick and then turned toward Julie. “Is there anything I can get for you?”

“My memories,” Julie replied with a rueful smile. “Actually, I’m fine.”

“You just ring your bell if you need anything at all.”

“Thank you,” Julie replied. “Tell me how we met,” she asked Nick when the nurse had left the room. “Was it love at first sight?”

He changed position in the chair. “We met at the little coffee shop up the street from the pawn shop.” His gaze didn’t quite meet hers.

“The Coffee Bean,” she said.

“That’s right. I saw you and asked for your number and I was shocked and happy when you gave it to me. And that was the beginning.”

“Does my family like you? I mean... I know how my dad and my brothers can be.” Her older brothers had never liked anyone she’d dated. Why could she remember that and yet have no memories of her fiancé?

“I haven’t met any of your family and we haven’t told them about us. Uh... You wanted to keep it a secret until I put a ring on your finger.”

“You haven’t done that?” She looked down at her hand to confirm there was no engagement ring.

“Not yet.” His gaze finally met hers. “We were shopping for a ring.”

“Do we live together?”

“No. You didn’t want to live together before the wedding. You know, you should probably try to get some rest. It’s late and, needless to say, you’ve been through quite a trauma.” He smiled for the first time and a wave of heat swept through her. He had a gorgeous smile.

“Yes, of course.” She closed her eyes but sleep was the furthest thing from her mind. She still had so many questions.

The sound of the recliner chair going to a prone position let her know he was prepared to sleep. He’d probably been terrified when she’d been unconscious in the car.

She opened her eyes and gazed over to him. He’d unfolded the blanket and put the pillow behind his head. His eyes were closed but she knew he wasn’t asleep.

“Nick?”

His eyes opened and he gazed at her. Oh, she could fall into those inviting green depths.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me about the accident. What exactly happened?” She needed to know at least this much before she could fall asleep.

He released a deep sigh. “We were at your place and we had a fight.”

She raised the head of her bed. “A fight about what?”

“Something stupid. Something not worth fighting about,” he replied. “You like your house cool...cold to me. I got irritated that I needed to wear a sweatshirt in July just to be comfortable at your place. You got angry and got into the car. I jumped in the passenger seat and, before I knew what was happening, you hit the tree.”

“Where was I going?” she asked.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now. All that matters is that you’re okay.” He closed his eyes again.

She lowered the head of her bed and once again shut her eyes. Maybe if she gave her brain a rest she’d wake up with all her memories restored.

Maybe when the sun came up in the morning she’d remember how very much she loved Nick and why. Despite the fact that she was safe and relatively unhurt, a dark fear whispered inside her.

Chapter Two

If there was prison time for lies told, throughout the long night Nick had earned a life sentence. Julie’s amnesia had been both a blessing and a curse.

He now sat in the hospital cafeteria with a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper in front of him. He turned the pages slowly, a knot inside his chest as he searched for a story about a specific murder.

Had anyone seen him on the street before the accident? Had some late-night soul peeked out the window in time to see him running by? Would all of his lies come to light?

He couldn’t get the vision of Brian out of his head. Who had murdered him? And what about the strange carving in his forehead? Did it mean anything or was it just a coincidence that it looked like a V?

He checked every single page, but there was no story in the paper about that particular murder. It was possible Brian’s body hadn’t even been found yet. He lived alone and Nick couldn’t imagine the creep had too many friends.

But Nick couldn’t be sure he was out of hot water yet. He thought of the 1970’s Son of Sam killer. David Berkowitz had terrorized New York by shooting eight people before a traffic ticket had led to his arrest.

And at the moment Nick’s car was parked on a residential street where it didn’t belong. No, Nick wouldn’t breathe easier until Brian McDowell’s killer was caught. Only then would he believe he was truly safe.

He shoved the paper aside and wrapped his hands around the foam cup of coffee. The murder wasn’t his only problem. Julie Peterson. He’d intentionally taken advantage of her amnesia to save his own butt, but somehow he now felt responsible for her.

She’d made it clear when she’d awakened that morning that she was depending on him to get her through this difficult period. She’d almost begged him to promise to stay close to her until her memories returned.

He’d thought to get her home from the hospital and then disappear from her life. But how could he do that to her? How could he take away the one thing she believed was true when she was obviously struggling with her missing memories?

It didn’t help that she had beautiful blue eyes that held more than a touch of vulnerability. It didn’t help that her heart-shaped face and spill of dark hair fired up a heat inside him he found both unexpected and unwanted. What a damn mess he’d made of things.

Right now the doctor was supposed to be writing out her release orders. They would be taking a taxi home because his car was still parked on a street where it didn’t belong. He had to figure out how in the hell he was going to get it and he needed to get it as soon as possible.

Julie had complained of a headache in the wee hours of the morning and they had given her something for pain. Nick wished somebody would give him something for the festering fear that tightened his chest to the point he could scarcely breathe.

He was terrified Julie would regain her memories and yet knew the only way to exit her life was for her to regain her memories. There was nothing worse than being an attempted murderer and having a conscience. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility that she already had a boyfriend. That would be a complication he definitely didn’t need.

It was a damned quagmire and right now he couldn’t see his way out of it. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt Julie, who had only been an innocent victim in all this.

He hadn’t slept at all through the night. If it wasn’t a nurse coming in to check Julie’s vitals that kept sleep at bay, it was Julie softly calling his name to make sure he was still with her.

Checking his watch, he quickly downed the last of his coffee. He needed to get back to her room. She’d be anxiously waiting for him.

And she was waiting for him. Perched on the edge of the bed and dressed in the jeans and sleeveless blue blouse she’d been in when she’d crashed her car, she held papers in her hand and her IV had been removed.

She stood at the sight of him, her smile filled with relief. “I’m free to go. I just have to wait for a nurse to bring in a wheelchair.”

Once again he was struck by her beauty. Even with her beautiful blue eyes telegraphing a simmering panic, she was stunning. Her long, dark hair was slightly tousled. Her nose was straight and her lips were just full enough to tempt a man. If she didn’t have a man in her life, he’d wonder why.

“Nick?”

She pulled him from his wayward thoughts.

“I need to use your cell phone to call for a taxi,” he said.

“Of course.” She dug in the purse next to her on the bed and withdrew the phone. “Want me to grab your hoodie?”

“No!” The word snapped out of him. He smiled quickly. “I’ll get it. You just sit right there on the bed until your ride appears.”

That was all he needed...for her to grab his sweatshirt and the gun and other items to fall out into the open.

He made the call for a taxi, his nerves once again tightening his gut.

“Here we are,” a nurse named Nancy said as she pushed a wheelchair into the room. “First-class transportation for the patient.”

“This really isn’t necessary,” Julie said.

“Hospital protocol,” Nancy replied cheerfully. “No matter how you come in, you always go out in a wheelchair.”

Within twenty minutes they were getting into a taxi that would take them to her house. “I hope you can be patient with me,” she said once they were under way. “I’m going to have a million questions for you.” She grabbed his hand and held tight.

He tried not to remember the last time a woman had held his hand, but the memory exploded in his mind. Debbie...broken and stabbed on the marble entry floor of a vacant mansion...the odor of her blood rife in the air. Her eyes glazed as she fought to maintain consciousness. He’d fallen to her side despite the police officers attempting to keep him away.

That moment was etched deeply in his brain...the grief and the outrage, the disbelief and the overwhelming rage. He’d knelt beside her and had grasped her hand. “Debbie, who did this? Who did this to you, baby?” he’d cried.

“Winthrop.” The name whispered from her just before she coughed up a mouthful of blood. Her fingers suddenly tightened around his. “Be happy,” she’d said and then she was gone, forever stolen from him by an act of despicable inhumanity.

“...happy to be home.” Julie’s voice yanked him out of the nightmare of his past as the cab pulled to a halt in front of an attractive two-story house at the back end of a cul-de-sac.

She released his hand to get into her purse and pay the driver.

They both got out and the taxi pulled away.

Nick followed her to the front door, his chest tight with tension. Once they were inside, his lies would continue because he didn’t know what else to do.

He couldn’t very well confess to her the truth: that he’d used her and her accident because he’d been in the neighborhood to commit a murder and needed a fast alibi. His biggest concern now was getting his car off the residential street where it didn’t belong.

She opened the front door and he followed her into an entry hall with a black-and-gray-tiled floor. She dropped her keys in a basket on a small table and then took a step into what he assumed was the living area. And gasped.

A white-brick fireplace graced one wall. A black-leather sofa sat between two glass-topped end tables. The glass coffee table held a centerpiece that showcased red and bright yellow flowers. The furnishings were modern and tasteful, but the reason for her gasp was instantly evident.

The remnants of a floor lamp lay on the floor, the white-glass globe nothing more than glittering shards against the tiled floor. A large red candle also lay on the floor in front of the shattered glass of a painting on the wall.

She turned to look at Nick, her expression one of stunned surprise. “You said we fought...” Her voice trailed off.

He improvised. “We were both very angry. I broke the lamp and you threw the candle at the painting.”

Somebody had fought in this room. Of course, he had no idea what had happened in her living room the night before. She was so vulnerable without her memories. Now he wondered if somehow Julie was in danger.

What or who had she been running from last night?

* * *

THE BROKEN LAMP and the shattered glass from the painting horrified her. She’d never been a fighter and rarely lost her temper. At least she remembered that about herself from a year ago. What had happened in the past ten months that had turned her into a woman who would throw a candle at a beautiful painting? Who apparently didn’t have any control over her emotions?

Nick looked at the mess, grimaced and then gazed at her. “Let’s get all this cleaned up.” He set his hoodie down on one of the living room chairs.

She got a broom and dustpan from the utility room just off the kitchen and then returned to the living room where Nick had righted the floor lamp.

“This isn’t who we are,” he said as they worked on the cleanup. “We’ve both been under some stress and this was the first time something like this has ever happened between us.”

His words made her feel somewhat better, but they did nothing to staunch a faint, simmering fear that had been inside her since she’d regained consciousness in the ambulance.

She knew instinctively the fear didn’t come from being around Nick. Rather, strangely, he was a comfort, a solid anchor in a sea that had become alien.

They worked silently until all of the glass had been cleaned up. “I think I need to check out the whole house to orient myself,” she said as she dumped the last of the glass into the trash bin.

“That sounds like a good idea,” he replied. “I’ll come with you.”

She smiled gratefully. “I appreciate it.”

Thankfully the downstairs was exactly as she remembered it to be. Her hand slid up the oak banister and with each step she wished Nick would just hold her for a moment and tell her everything was going to be all right.

She groaned faintly as she climbed upward.

“Are you okay?” he asked from behind her.

“I’m fine, just sore. I have to admit I feel like I was run over by a truck.” Muscles she hadn’t known she possessed now protested her movements.

“The doctor warned us that you would probably be sore for the next couple of days,” he replied.

“I just hope everything up here is the same as I remember it,” she said when they reached the landing. “I’d feel more centered if there aren’t any more surprises.”

“I hope so, too,” he replied.

She breathed a quick sigh of relief as she walked straight down the hall and entered her bedroom. The coral-colored bedspread with turquoise throw pillows was achingly familiar. The knickknacks, the artwork on the wall, and the nightstands and dresser were just as she remembered them.

“You good?” he asked.

She turned and flashed him another smile. “So far, so good.”

A quick glance in the other two bedrooms further assured her that at least here, in her house, nothing had changed. The room she used as her home office still had paperwork strewed across the top of the desk and the other bedroom was an attractive and clean guest room.

Even as relief winged through her, an overwhelming exhaustion struck her. Her body was sore and her brain was working too hard to remember something—anything—from the past year.

She stepped closer to Nick and wrapped her arms around his waist. She leaned into him. “Just hold me a minute, please.” There was a moment of hesitation and then his arms surrounded her. Was the faint scent of his spicy cologne familiar? She wasn’t sure, but it was definitely appealing.

“I’m scared, Nick,” she whispered into the hollow of his throat. “I feel so lost right now. Could you stay here with me for a couple of days?”

Again, there was a small hesitation. “Of course,” he replied. “But I’ll need to go home and get some things.” He dropped his arms to his sides and reluctantly she stepped away from him.

“I’m sorry to be a pain.” She released a deep sigh. “I’m hoping my memories will return in the next day or so and then I won’t be so anxious.”

“It’s fine. I’ll just head to my house and pack up some clothes.”

They walked back downstairs and it wasn’t until they reached the living room again that she realized Nick didn’t have his car.

“I’ll need to drive you home,” she said.

“No,” he said sharply. He smiled then, as if aware his tone had been curt. “In case you forgot, your car is now in the shop, and besides, what you need to do is rest. It won’t take me long to get to my place and get back here.” He reached out and lightly touched her shoulder. “I don’t want you to worry about anything. Maybe you should try to nap while I’m gone. I know you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“I am exhausted,” she admitted. She was definitely feeling the past night of too little sleep.

“Then get upstairs in that nice, comfortable bed and get some rest.”

“You’ll wake me when you get back?” she asked.

“I promise. I’ll have to wake you because I don’t have a key.”

She looked at him in surprise. “I’ve never given you a key?”

“You told me you’d give me a key on the day we got married.”

“Do I have a key to your house?” she asked.

“You did. I gave you one, but you lost it a couple of weeks ago. We hadn’t gotten around to having another one made for you.” He inched toward the front door. “Stop overthinking things and get some rest, Julie.” With those words, he walked out the front door.

Immediately she felt bereft and vulnerable. For the next few minutes she wandered around the living room, touching familiar items in an effort to calm the anxiety and the crazy simmer of fear that coursed through her.

Surely these emotions were normal for somebody suffering from amnesia. Her mind wasn’t her own right now. She was just grateful Nick had agreed to stay with her for the next few days. There had been comfort in his arms. That must speak to the strength of their relationship...of their love for each other.

How she wished she could remember the excitement of dating him and the joy of falling in love with him. She did remember being ready for love, wanting to get married and start a family of her own. It didn’t seem fair that she remembered wanting these things but had no memory of actually finding love with the very hot physical education teacher.

She’d sensed his hesitation to touch her, to hold her, and she understood it. He was in as awkward a position as she was. He knew she didn’t remember him, that he was basically a stranger to her. She was certain he didn’t know exactly how to treat her.

What he didn’t understand was that she took it on complete faith that he was her soul mate, otherwise she wouldn’t have been working on wedding plans with him. She wouldn’t be his fiancée without first knowing with utter certainty that he was the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Before her accident, she’d obviously decided he was that man.

A clenched hand of anxiety continued to grip both her heart and her brain. It had been there when she’d realized she had no memories of so much time and it hadn’t eased up since.

If she thought it might help to beat her fists against her skull, she’d do it. Hopefully, the doctor was right and now that she was home her memory would return quickly.

Sleep. She definitely needed to get some sleep and to stop thinking so much. Deciding to stretch out on the sofa instead of going all the way upstairs to her room, she was detoured by a flashing red light on the answering machine on one of the end tables.

Three new messages awaited her. She punched the play button.

“Hey, girly, where are you? You were supposed to open up shop this morning. Call me.” It was as if she’d just heard her father’s voice yesterday. Thank goodness he sounded strong and healthy.

“Where the hell are you?” The next voice spoke. “It’s bad enough I usually have to cover Casey’s shifts, but now you’re going to be a flake, too?” The message had been left by her older brother, Max. Some things never changed and the irritation in his voice was as familiar to her as her own heartbeat.

She needed to call her family and tell them about her accident. Max should know her well enough to know she’d never shirk her responsibility at the pawn shop for no reason. She wasn’t like their younger sister who often called in to get out of working. Or was she? She had no idea who she’d become over the past year.

“Don’t tell.”

She reeled back at the gravelly, unrecognizable voice that hissed over the machine. An icy chill instantly gripped her soul.

“You’d better not tell a soul or I promise I’ll kill you.”

The answering machine clicked off. Still, she remained unmoving, staring at the phone that had suddenly become an instrument of evil malevolence.

Was the call a joke? She instantly dismissed the idea. She knew instinctively that nobody she knew would think that kind of thing funny.

Oh, God, what did she know? What had she forgotten that was so important somebody would threaten to kill her to keep it a secret? Who had made that call? The Caller ID read “Anonymous.”

There was no way she was going to nap, not with that horrendous voice and threat ringing in her ears. Her legs trembled beneath her as she hurried to the front door and made sure it was locked. She then returned to the family room and sank down onto the sofa.

She needed Nick. Maybe he knew what this was all about. She hoped he hurried back because she’d never been so scared in her entire life.

Chapter Three

Nick ran out of the cul-de-sac, his brain on overload. All he wanted to do at the moment was move his car off the neighborhood street where he’d parked it last night. Had it only been last night? It felt like a lifetime ago.

His nerves were totally shot. It wasn’t just a lack of sleep that had him on edge. It was a combination of murder and lies that ricocheted around in his brain, leaving him with a nauseating anxiety.

First things first, he told himself. Get the car. He slowed his pace to a brisk walk as he reached the street where he’d parked the night before.

Relief washed over him as he saw in the distance that the car was still where he’d left it. The relief was short-lived as he drew closer and saw a man in the front yard next to where he’d parked.

His stomach knotted and his mouth dried. He’d hoped to get his car and get out of there without anyone seeing him. Hopefully, when the body was found, the police wouldn’t question people this far away from the scene. Would they?

The man was an older gentleman and he held a garden hose that spewed a small stream of water on a bed of red and purple petunias. “Good morning,” he said cheerfully as Nick approached the car.

“It’s a fine one,” Nick replied, grateful his voice held nothing of his apprehension.

“It’s going to be a hot one. Stay cool and have a good day,” the old man said.

“You, too,” Nick replied and quickly got into the car. He set the gun with the ski mask and the gloves all wrapped in his hoodie on the passenger seat, started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

Thank God there was no parking ticket under his wiper. And thank God none of the neighbors had gotten suspicious of a strange car parked on their street and had called the cops.

He headed for home, his heart thundering as he glanced at the hoodie. He wouldn’t feel better until he got rid of the gun. Even though it couldn’t be traced to Brian McDowell’s murder, Nick had no idea what other crime it might be traced to.

He had been instructed to throw it into the bushes at the crime scene, but when he’d seen Brian’s body, rational thought had fled his brain. Also the very last thing he wanted to do now was to toss it in a place where a kid might find it.

For the first time in twelve hours he felt relatively safe as he pulled into the driveway of his brick three-bedroom ranch house. He got out of the car with the hoodie in his arms, then unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The air smelled clean...like furniture polish and bathroom cleanser. Although by no means a clean freak, he’d spent the day before cleaning the house in a frenzy to occupy his mind before heading out to murder a man.

He’d known the risks, that he might be arrested or killed himself. He’d supposed that if either of those things had happened, he’d at least be at peace that the police would find that he kept a clean house.

He sank down on his sofa and rubbed a hand across his forehead where a headache threatened. He hadn’t had a chance to breathe since he’d stumbled onto Brian’s dead body.

You could just stay right here, a small voice whispered. Julie doesn’t know your address. She doesn’t even have your phone number.

There was no question the thought was more than a bit appealing.

Then he thought about the hug he’d shared with her. Her slender body had felt so fragile in his arms. He’d felt not only the press of her breasts against him but also the rapid beat of her heart.

How frightening was it to wake up and lose almost a year of your life? How scary would it be to not have a single memory from that length of time? He couldn’t imagine. But he’d love to go to sleep and wake up and magically lose the last three agonizing, lonely years of his life. He’d welcome the amnesia that would wipe away all memories of the brutal murder of the woman he’d loved.

Debbie. She’d been a go-getter. She’d gotten her real-estate license and had landed a job with an upscale real-estate company. She’d been dynamic and a hard worker and, within two years, she’d established herself as one of the top sellers in a four-state area. Nick had always said she could successfully sell the swamps in Florida.

Nick had loved her, but he’d grown to dislike her job, which kept her busy at all hours during the days and late evenings.

That job was what had taken her to an empty mansion to meet a potential buyer. That job was what had led to her murder. Nick shook his head to dispel his train of thoughts.

He couldn’t go there. He couldn’t think about her murder right now. He had bigger decisions to make at the moment. Should he just stay here or should he go back to Julie’s and continue his pretense?

Debbie wouldn’t want him to leave Julie hanging, especially given the fact that Nick had filled her head with a bunch of lies to save his own ass. By claiming her as his fiancée, Nick had given Julie an instant sense of false comfort.

He looked around, the very room where he sat evoking agonizing memories. He and Debbie had bought this house just before her murder. They had painted the master bedroom her favorite shade of light blue and had updated the kitchen. They had also planted a small redbud tree in the backyard. She hadn’t lived long enough to see its first buds.

They had planned for children to fill the spare bedrooms. Dammit, they had planned a life together and some man—some animal—had taken her away from him.

He swallowed the familiar rage and got up from the sofa. He grabbed the hoodie with the gun, ski mask and gloves wrapped inside. He then went into his bedroom and opened the closet door.

On the top shelf were several folded blankets. He shoved the hoodie between them, knowing sooner or later he needed to get rid of that damned gun.

He picked up a duffel bag and placed it on his bed. He’d stay with Julie for a couple of days to help her navigate. Maybe during that time he could manipulate a fight and a breakup. That would be the best way for him to exit her life with no questions.

Still, when her memories returned, he’d have some explaining to do, but he’d face that when it happened. What concerned him more than a little bit was the scene in her living room. What had happened there in the minutes before she’d gotten into her car and hit that tree? It looked like she’d fought with somebody.

He had no idea if she was in danger or not, but that was another reason why, in good conscience, he couldn’t walk away from her yet.

It took him only minutes to pack enough clothing and toiletries for a few days away. He then left his house and got back into his car.

He turned on the radio in an effort to clear his mind from all thoughts. He didn’t want to think about how screwed up everything had become.

He was exhausted. He’d gotten little sleep in the nights leading up to Brian McDowell’s murder. Now he feared that any sleep he did manage to get would be haunted by the vision of the bloodbath he’d seen.

Who had committed the crime? The question thundered in his head. If it hadn’t been one of the other men in their murder pact, then who else knew about their plan to get justice that had been denied?

Tightening his hands on the steering wheel, he turned into the cul-de-sac and steeled himself to tell even more lies. He parked and grabbed the duffel, then walked up to the front door and knocked.

The lock clicked, the door opened and Julie launched herself into his arms as deep sobs exploded from her.

“Hey...what’s happened?” It was obvious she hadn’t regained her memory, otherwise she wouldn’t be in his arms right now.

She shook her head, apparently unable to speak around her tears. He dropped his duffel and hesitantly put his arms around her. “Julie, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

What he really needed her to do was to step away from him despite the fact he’d pulled her closer into his arms. Her trembling body against his felt far too warm as he became aware of the faint, attractive floral scent that emanated from her.

As if she read his mind, she took a step backward and instead grabbed his hand and held tight as he picked up his bag once again. She then led him into the living room. She dropped his hand and pointed to the telephone answering machine on the end table.

“What is it?” he asked. A new tension tightened his stomach. What now? As if this whole situation wasn’t complicated enough.

Julie stared at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “The last message. You need to listen to it.” She made no move to approach the phone, but instead stared at it as unmistakable fear leaped into her eyes.

With a sense of dread, Nick walked over to the machine and punched the appropriate button so he could hear the message. As the rasping voice filled the room, Julie sank down on the sofa and began to quietly cry again.

Fear replaced his sense of dread. The venom-filled voice hadn’t issued just a warning...it sounded like a promise. What in the hell was going on? He’d escaped one murder scene only to walk into another potentially deadly mystery.

“You don’t recognize the voice?” he asked. He hadn’t even been able to tell if it was a man or a woman. It had obviously been computer distorted.

Once again she shook her head and wiped the tears from her cheeks with her fingertips. “I don’t know the voice and I don’t remember what I’m not supposed to tell. I was hoping you could tell me. Did I share with you anything that might explain the call?”

He sank down next to her, wondering what in the hell he’d gotten himself into. “No, I don’t have a clue. You never mentioned anything to me about any kind of a dangerous secret.”

“I’m in a nightmare,” she said softly. “I’m in a damned nightmare and I can’t wake up. I can’t tell what I don’t remember and how will the caller know I have amnesia?”

“We should call the police.” As much as Nick didn’t want any authorities involved with him, this sounded serious and he couldn’t—he wouldn’t—choose his own safety over hers. She didn’t deserve that.

“No, I don’t want to talk to the police,” she surprised him by saying. She rubbed two fingers in the center of her forehead. “I’m not sure why, but my gut is telling me I don’t want the police involved in this. Besides, what could they do? It was an anonymous call. It would be easy to write it off as some kind of a terrible prank. They aren’t going to put manpower and effort into figuring it out and, without my memories, I can’t help them at all.”

She reached for his hand and her fingers clung around his tightly. Her blue eyes gazed at him with love...and need. “I’m just so grateful I have you, Nick. I don’t know what I’d do right now without you.”

He squeezed her hand. “I’m here and nobody is going to hurt you as long as I’m around.”

An overwhelming sense of resignation swept through him. Damned. He had a feeling he was damned if he stayed with her and damned if he left.

* * *

JULIE BOLTED UP with a scream on her lips. Instead of releasing it, she gasped, her racing heart making it difficult for her to draw in a full breath. Her bedsheets were twisted around her thighs, as if attempting to keep her in the nightmare she now couldn’t remember.

Morning light drifted through her thin, lacy bedroom curtains as her heartbeat slowly returned to normal. She drew in several deep breaths.

What had she dreamed? It had obviously been a nightmare. Otherwise she wouldn’t have awakened with the taste of fear lingering in her mouth and a scream begging to be released.

Disappointment washed over her as no memories of the past ten months had come to her with sleep. But what she remembered vividly was the frightening phone call promising her death if she told what she knew.

What did she know? What secret was trapped in the darkness of her mind that was worth her death? Was she safe because she couldn’t tell anyone? Would the caller leave her alone if she didn’t spill whatever secret the caller thought she knew? Was that what she had dreamed about?

Nick. Just thinking his name caused a calming effect even though the night before had been a bit awkward. She’d just assumed he would stay in her room and sleep in her bed with her. Despite having no memories of him, she was fine with that. But he’d insisted he stay in her guest room.

She knew he was only thinking about her and she appreciated that, but it would have been nice to go to sleep last night with his big, strong arms around her. Maybe then she wouldn’t have suffered from a nightmare.

She glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. It was a few minutes after seven. She’d called her father last night to tell him about her accident and her stolen memories. He’d immediately declared a family meeting at her place at eight thirty this morning.

It would be the first time her family met her fiancé. She hoped they weren’t too hard on him, but the Peterson family was definitely loud and opinionated. And, as far as she could remember, they had never liked anyone she had dated, not that she had dated that often.

She got out of bed and went into the adjoining bathroom. Twenty minutes later she was showered and dressed. The scent of coffee met her as she headed down the stairs, letting her know Nick was already up.

She walked into the kitchen to find him seated at the table, a cup of fresh brew in front of him. “Good morning,” he said with a smile.

“Good morning to you,” she replied and beelined to the cabinet where the coffee cups were stored. He was a welcome sight, his buff body clad in a pair of jeans and a navy T-shirt that stretched across his broad shoulders.

Her heart fluttered a bit in her chest. There was no question that she was intensely physically drawn to him even without her memories. But what woman wouldn’t be attracted to such a good-looking man?

“How are you feeling?” Nick asked as she joined him at the table.

“Pretty well, except for the memory thing. How did you sleep?”

“I slept fine.” He took a sip of his coffee.

“Are you ready for the onslaught of my family?”

“I have to admit I’m a little nervous,” he replied.

“Oh, Nick, it will be fine. I can’t imagine a single reason why they won’t like you. Besides, it’s time to meet them. We’ve been dating a long time and talking about marriage.”

He nodded and his gaze went to his coffee.

She took a sip of hers and continued to look at him over the rim of her cup. She still had a hard time believing this terrific guy was in love with her, but it must be so. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here with her now.

“We have time for a quick breakfast before my family arrives. I’m sorry, I don’t know what you like to eat.”

He looked up and smiled once again. “I’m not much of a breakfast eater. I’m generally good with just a couple cups of coffee.”

“Me, too.” She was ridiculously pleased that they had even this relatively small thing in common. “There are so many things I don’t know about you. Do you have a big family?”

His eyes darkened slightly. “No. It’s just me. My parents were killed four years ago in a car accident and I didn’t have any siblings.”

“Oh, Nick, I’m so sorry.”

The smile he offered her wasn’t as big as the last one. “Thanks, but it was a long time ago.”

It might have been a long time ago, but it looked like raw grief that had momentarily darkened his eyes.

“This is all so awkward,” she said in an effort to change the subject. “You probably know everything there is to know about me and I don’t know anything about you except for the really important things.”

One of his dark brows quirked upward. “Important things?”

She nodded. “You must be a good man. You are kind and good and love me passionately. I wouldn’t have dated you so long and agreed to marry you if you weren’t that kind of person.”

He frowned and shifted positions in the chair. “I’m no saint, Julie. And while you can’t remember me, don’t try to make me into one.”

She raised her chin and smiled at him. “Okay, but I stand by my feelings. I know who you are at your core, Nick. I wouldn’t have settled for less.”

He drained his coffee cup and jumped up. “Is there anything we need to do to prepare for your family?”

“Make a fresh pot of coffee,” she replied. “Unless something drastic changed in the past year, my family chugs coffee like it’s the fountain of youth.”

“You sit tight, I’ll make a fresh pot,” he replied. “And while I’m doing that you can give me a quick refresher on your family members.”

She took another sip from her cup, set it down and then leaned back in the chair. “I can only tell you what I remember about them from a year ago.”

Grief and anger suddenly rose up in the back of her throat. Grief over the missing memories of the people she loved, and anger that her brain continued to betray her by not functioning right.

Nick poured the water into the coffee machine and then turned back to face her expectantly.

“George is my father and he runs the business and us with a heavy hand. Lynetta is my mother. She’s loud and opinionated and as tough as Dad. Max is my oldest brother and he’s just like my father...they both have a lot of bark, but not too much bite. Then there’s Tony who is a year older than me. He’s quiet and, like me, doesn’t like confrontation. Finally, there’s Casey. She’s the baby of the family and is the apple of my parents’ eyes.”

She couldn’t help the smile that curved her lips as she thought of her baby sister. “She’s also spoiled and wild, a bit lazy and totally gorgeous.”

“And all of you work at the pawn shop,” Nick said.

She nodded. “That pawn shop isn’t just our business, it’s a family legacy of sorts. My grandfather started it, but it was Dad who built it into the largest pawn shop in Kansas City.”

“Everyone has heard of Peterson Pawn, but I’ve never been inside the store.”

“Once you meet my family I’ll take you in with me and give you the grand tour.” Once again a roll of emotions swept through her. What had changed at the store over the past ten months? What had happened in her family’s life that she couldn’t remember?

Had Max finally found somebody to date? What about her other siblings? Max and Tony hadn’t even been dating anyone ten months before. Casey was the only one in the family who dated often, exchanging men as quickly as she changed her nail color. Had Julie gone to a wedding? Had she been Casey’s maid of honor like the two of them had always promised each other?

She wanted to pull her brain out of her skull and shake it violently until it started working right again. What was the amnesia protecting her from? A car accident?

Don’t tell. The two words thundered in her head, momentarily stealing her breath as an icy hand gripped her heart.

“Julie? Are you all right?” Nick gazed at her with a touch of concern.

“I’m fine.” She forced a smile as she stood. “I’m just going to set out some cups and cream and sugar for when the family arrives.”

“Can I help?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got it.” She needed to do something to keep the simmering fear in her at bay. Not only was she afraid of the phone threat, now a new rivulet of anxiety swept through her as she prepared for her family to arrive.

She placed the cups on the countertop and then turned to face him once again. “How do you feel about little white lies?”

“What are you talking about?” He said the words slowly...a bit warily.

“I was just thinking that I’d like to tell my family we’ve been dating for well over a year. I don’t want them to know I have no memories of you. That will just complicate things with them.”

He leaned back in the chair and nodded. “If that makes you feel better, then I don’t see why we can’t tell that little white lie.”

She sighed in relief. She loved her family, and her father and mother had raised them to be loyal to each other and to the pawn shop. She’d never made trouble. She’d worked long hours and done everything she could to be an obedient daughter.

She might not know what had gone on for the past ten months in her life, but one thing she knew for certain...if they made her choose between them and Nick, she wanted her man.