The Lawman Claims His Bride. Renee Ryan

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СКАЧАТЬ into his arms again. She was thankful for that, at least. She barely had power over her emotions as it was. She would probably collapse into uncontrollable sobs if he offered her any more kindness. Tears would do neither of them any good.

      “Start at the beginning,” he said. “Tell me everything that happened.”

      She saw the many questions in his eyes, the frustration underneath, but he held to his silence as he waited for her to begin.

      He was so patient, so willing to think the best of her. How could she not love such a man?

      “Logan, I…I…” Her throat cinched around a breath. “I can’t tell you what happened because I—” She broke off, unable to push the words past her lips.

      “Because?” he urged, using the same patient tone as before.

      “Because…” She broke eye contact and focused on a spot just over his left shoulder. “I don’t remember.”

      Chapter Three

      Megan waited for Logan to respond to her stunning declaration. But he didn’t move, didn’t blink. In fact, he didn’t react at all.

      Perhaps he hadn’t heard her.

      Just as she opened her mouth to repeat herself, the outer door swung open with a rattle. She jumped away from Logan like a guilty child.

      Sheriff Scott had returned. And he was looking directly at her as he entered the cell. The fierce angles of his face coupled with the hard slash of his frown sent a lick of fear through her. But then his gaze softened and she relaxed. A little.

      He turned his attention to Logan. “I see she told you about her memory loss.”

      Ignoring the comment, Logan closed the distance Megan had created between them when she’d jumped away from him. “You don’t remember anything about the murder?”

      She lowered her gaze to the floor. “Nothing.”

      “That must be…” He pulled in a hissing breath. “Terrifying.”

      Megan’s heart kicked hard against her rib cage. Logan understood her predicament. Perhaps better than she did herself.

      She wished she could shake the horror of forgetting. She wanted to escape the terrible reality that a portion of her life was gone, perhaps forever.

      She fought for her next gasp of air. What if she never remembered? What if Logan had to bring her to trial? What if she was convicted of murder? What if… What if…

      What if…

      As though sensing her growing panic, he pulled her into his arms again. Muttering soft words of comfort, he kept the embrace light, holding her with the care he might show a wounded animal.

      A part of her relished the tender treatment. Another part—the part used to taking care of herself and others—wanted to shrink from the very real desire to rest in Logan’s strength, if only for a while.

      Even as he whispered soft promises to her, her inner battle continued with the independent side of her nature losing ground quickly. Logan was so strong, so good, so determined to make everything right. She could practically hear his brain working through the problem, his mind sorting and sifting potential solutions in perfect cadence with his heartbeat.

      “What does Mattie Silks have to do with this?” he asked.

      It was not the first question Megan would have expected from him. The madam had been uncommonly kind to her, wonderful even. But would Logan understand?

      When Megan didn’t answer the question right away, Sheriff Scott responded for her. “The murder occurred in Mattie’s brothel. In her private suite of rooms.”

      Logan recoiled. Not enough for the sheriff to notice, but Megan felt his reaction even as he set her gently away from him. She thought she heard him mutter something about the difficult woman and her maddening games, but couldn’t be sure. He’d spoken just below a whisper.

      Fearing what she might find, she ventured a glance into his eyes. He looked stunned. Indignant. Furious.

      Megan had never seen him so angry. She was sure of it. But just as the thought materialized a distant memory triggered a peculiar stinging in her throat. She instinctively backed away from him. One step. Two. The third brought her legs up against the cot.

      She sat. Quickly, before she collapsed.

      Shivering, she rubbed her hands over her arms. Beneath the thin fabric of her sleeves her skin felt clammy, as though the ugliness of death had attached itself to her and wouldn’t let go.

      At last, the shadows in Logan’s gaze shifted from anger to sorrow to resolve. He turned to glare at Sheriff Scott. “Tell me everything you know.”

      With slow, precise words the sheriff recounted the events in Mattie’s boudoir as he knew them. His smooth, deep baritone lulled Megan into a comfortable daze.

      Only half listening, she pulled her feet onto the cot and hugged her knees to her chest. She didn’t mind that they were discussing her as though she wasn’t in the room. She found it oddly comforting to listen to her story from the viewpoint of an outsider. But as the events unfolded around her, Megan had to swallow back another round of panic.

      Why couldn’t she remember details from the brothel? She recalled feeling fear. Queasiness. Rage. But nothing more substantial, nothing concrete.

      At last, the same tiny thought swam out of the chaos in her mind as it had every other time she’d pushed herself to remember. She’d gone to read to Suzanne, one of Mattie’s girls, a woman who’d contracted the same illness that had killed Megan’s mother. Megan had gone to the brothel to offer what small comfort she could.

      But why had Cole sought her out, specifically? She’d been there on an errand of mercy.

      Before confusion overtook her, she made herself focus on the story once again. According to Sheriff Scott, Cole had attacked her, probably assuming she was one of Mattie’s girls. All signs revealed that Megan had fought back, at one point pushing the man so hard he’d hit his head against the stone fireplace. But the blow hadn’t been what killed him. The sheriff was positive Cole died of a chest wound.

      “Someone jammed a knife straight through Kincaid’s black heart,” he said.

      How many times had Megan heard the same series of events, told in the same sequence, always with the same conclusion? A man was dead and his blood was on her dress, as well as on her hands before she’d cleaned them. But no matter how deep she searched her mind, Megan couldn’t corroborate any of the sheriff’s findings.

      Hugging her knees tighter, she fought the familiar fog trying to grip her mind once again. It came anyway, thick and impenetrable.

      Logan let out a low hiss when Sheriff Scott began detailing the murder scene. Megan jerked her attention back to the conversation. Catching Logan’s hard expression she easily understood why Sheriff Scott had recommended him for the U.S. Marshal position. Not out of loyalty alone, but because Logan could be ruthless when he wanted to get to the truth of a matter. She shivered.

      Would СКАЧАТЬ