The Perfect Outsider. Лорет Энн Уайт

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      “You will find them, June. If anyone can, it’s you and Eager.”

      Emotion surged into her eyes, and the burden of responsibility she’d undertaken, the amount of trust these people put in her, was suddenly overwhelming.

      “Thanks, Davis.”

      “I’ll take the first watch. Brad can replace me.”

      “Don’t forget to take a radio. And one of the shotguns.”

      He paused at the door. “You really think they’ll come?”

      She glanced at Jesse. “I hope not.”

      I hope I haven’t made the biggest mistake in my life by bringing him here.

      “Make sure Molly has a receiving radio tuned in to the right frequency. Tell her to keep it with her at all times and to pass it on to someone else if she wants to sleep.”

      Davis closed the door behind him as he left.

      June busied herself cleaning and disinfecting the wounds on Jesse’s head and leg. She administered local anesthetic, stitched him up and applied dressing. He remained conscious but in a state of exhausted half sleep, which both puzzled and worried her.

      She put dry track pants on him and took a moment to study the tattoo on his hip again.

      With surprise she realized the D was fresh—maybe only seven to ten days old, the skin around the ink still pink and slightly inflamed.

      She frowned. This didn’t fit the picture for one of Samuel’s henchmen. The enforcers Samuel used tended to be solidly entrenched Devotees who’d proved themselves to him and demonstrated they were able and prepared to defend Samuel’s empire violently. Or, at least, those were the henchmen she knew of.

      June’s chest tightened with conflict as she covered the stranger with more blankets. She packed up her first-aid kit, and suddenly a wave of fatigue hit hard. She told herself it was just the adrenaline wearing off. She still had to go out and look for Lacy and the twins—she’d start along the west flank where she and Eager had found Jesse and his gun. There was no way she’d be able to put in even a cursory appearance with Fargo’s search party at this late stage of the morning, so she’d spend her time searching solo with her K9.

      Molly entered the room carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming vegetable soup. She eyed Jesse with hostility as she set the tray on the table next to the bed.

      June shook his shoulder, gently rousing him. “Jesse—Molly brought you some soup. I think you should get some warmth into you.”

      His thick lashes fluttered and he turned his head from side to side.

      He could hear her voice—soft, sexy, feminine—as if it were coming from a faraway place with warm light. He felt her hand on his bare shoulder—her skin soft, cool. So feminine. He struggled to swim up to full consciousness—to her—and his eyes fluttered open. But everything was a hazy blur, bright. Then slowly, the room came into focus. And he saw her, sitting beside his bed.

      An angel. With flaming-red hair. Beautiful, fine-boned features. Porcelain-pale skin brushed by freckles, eyes the color of a pale summer sky that reminded him of the sound of bees and lawn mowers and watermelon by the pool. Her mouth was full, wide. Kissable.

      He frowned, trying to place her face, his memories of summers past.

      And, as he pulled things into focus, he realized her red hair was damp, tendrils drying in soft spirals around her face. The rest was pulled back in a braid, and there were bits of leaves stuck in it.

      He remembered now—it had been pouring. She’d had a peaked cap on when she’d found him, and a headlamp, shining down into his face. Where was he?

      He tried to get up. But she gently placed her hand on his shoulder, her willowy body belying a resilient strength he could sense in her touch, see in her clear eyes. He sagged back into the pillows, feeling as though he’d been hit by a ten-ton truck. His head throbbed. His leg hurt—his whole body felt stiff.

      “Christ, what happened to me?”

      “You fell down a ravine, hit your head and gashed your leg. I’ve sewn you up and the injuries look fine, but you need to take it easy, Jesse. You’ve lost blood.”

      Jesse. That’s right—she’d named him Jesse because he couldn’t the hell remember who he was, where he was going or where he’d come from. Despair sank into him, along with a bite of frustration.

      She was watching him intently. So was the young woman with straight mousey-blond hair she’d referred to as Molly. The kid looked hostile.

      What did the redheaded angel with the porcelain skin say her name was … June. She’d said she worked as a part-time paramedic in a town called Cold Plains. Thank God—he wasn’t completely brain-dead. And he could recall hiking with her assistance through a narrowing rock canyon, into a cave and a tunnel. After that his memory was black again.

      Cold Plains. Why did the name of that town seem so familiar, yet not? Another name came to him. Samuel Grayson. Tension reared up inside Jesse along with a gnawing urgency. He struggled to sit up—he had to go somewhere, but he couldn’t recall where, and it had something to do with a man named Samuel Grayson.

      June pressed him gently back against the pillows. “Do you recall those three words I gave you earlier, Jesse?”

      What words? Oh, wait … he did remember. He cleared his throat “Radio, belt and—” he gave a wry smile “—Jesse.”

      “Your short-term memory is intact. That’s a good sign.”

      “Yep. Great.” Too bad about the rest.

      “Do you remember anything else, like where you were coming from?”

      Frustration heated his body. He tried to dig deeper into his memory, but all he got was a thick sense of fuzzy confusion.

      “No, I—I think I was … No, I can’t recall a damn thing.”

      “I checked your GPS. It appears you were traveling into Cold Plains over the north mountains. Do you remember how long you’ve been in the wilderness? Where you were going? Can you tell me why you have a D tattooed on your hip?”

      “I have a tattoo?” Had June told him that already—or did the familiarity stem from a buried memory?

      “He has the D because he’s one of Samuel’s enforcers,” Molly spat at him. “He knows exactly what you’re talking about, June—he’s lying that he doesn’t remember anything. Don’t fall for it.”

      June said, quietly, without looking at the young woman, “Molly, can you please go to the kitchen and man the radio. Let me know if Davis reports in.”

      Molly stomped out of the room and banged the door shut behind her.

      “She’s afraid,” said June.

      “Of me?”

      “Of СКАЧАТЬ