The Hidden Years. Susan Kearney

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      Cassidy had been the first person to show him affection or friendship for thirteen years, and losing her had devastated him. He’d coped with the emptiness by working harder. In what little spare time he had after his honorable discharge from the military, Jake had searched for his sisters and developed the skills to open his own detective agency. But no matter how many hours he’d worked, he’d never forgotten that bright summer when anything and everything had seemed possible. And he’d never forgotten what it felt like to wake up in the morning and look forward to Cassidy’s smile brightening his day.

      Jake drove up to Cassidy’s house and saw a broken windowpane next to the front door. His instinct for trouble immediately kicked in. Maybe a kid had thrown a baseball through the pane. But why was the glass still glinting on the front stoop?

      There could be a dozen reasons. The likeliest was that Cassidy wasn’t home.

      Still, Jake had learned to take precautions. He drove past the house and parked down the street. Picking up his cell phone, he called his friend and number-one employee, Harrison Gordon, and quickly gave him his location.

      “If you don’t hear from me within four minutes, send the cops.”

      Ever cautious, the former police office from Dade County asked, “Want backup?”

      “Cassidy may be in trouble. Phone’s in my pocket. I’ll leave the line open.”

      “Be careful.”

      Jake clipped the phone to his belt, eased his gun from his ankle holster and slipped it into his pocket. He didn’t want to chance scaring Cassidy if it wasn’t necessary. And a bullet could shoot through fabric as easily as air.

      Moving quickly and silently, Jake approached the ranch-style house from the side, slipping easily behind the shrubbery and ducking beneath the windows. Normally he would have scouted the perimeter and waited for backup, but he had a bad feeling in his gut.

      When he approached the broken glass by the front door, he heard the sickening sound of a slap against flesh and a woman’s yelp of pain.

      Sweat popped out on his brow. Every cell in his body yearned to burst through the door. But he wouldn’t do Cassidy an ounce of good if he got himself or her shot before he could rescue her.

      Jake took a moment to reach for his phone. “I’m going in, Harrison. Get me backup. Fast.”

      “Wait—”

      Jake didn’t listen to the rest of Harrison’s warning. He eased through the door, gun first. Glass crunched under his shoes. Jake silently swore. He’d just given up the element of surprise.

      At least the sickening sounds of the assault had stopped. But Jake couldn’t wait for the cops to arrive. It only took a nanosecond to end a life. Cassidy’s future might hinge on his next decision. Jake didn’t hesitate. He just wished he knew how many opponents he was up against and if they were armed.

      Ducking through a doorway, Jake stepped lightly into the dining room. He quickly scanned the thick draperies. Saw no sign of feet peeking out beneath the bottom.

      Keeping low, he dodged down a hallway and rolled into the kitchen. A bullet hissed past his ear. But he had heard no gunshot. Obviously the intruder used a silencer—unusual for a street thug.

      Out of the corner of his eye, Jake glimpsed Cassidy blindfolded by a cap, tied to a kitchen chair. Her shoulders slumped. He had no way of knowing if she was still breathing, and his heart missed a beat.

      Think. Cassidy needed him to be professional.

      Estimating that the gunfire had come from the direction of the refrigerator, Jake scrambled to the position least likely to put Cassidy in the line of fire.

      In the distance, police sirens sounded. Two more bullets kept Jake behind the counter. He heard footsteps retreating. The back door squeaked open and then more footsteps pounded across the patio, indicating the intruder had run away.

      Normally Jake would have pursued the culprit. But no way could he leave Cassidy blindfolded and tied to that chair, wondering if she was going to live or die. Not even for another minute.

      Jake hurried to her and yanked the cap from her head. “Sunshine, talk to me. Are you all right?”

      Dazed blue eyes looked at him with fear. Blood trickled from her mouth. “Jake?”

      She was alive! Pleasure shot through him, but as much as he yearned to gather her into his arms, touch that golden skin, inhale her feminine scent and reassure himself that she was all right, he hesitated. He had no desire to renew the old feelings, sensations and emotions that touching her had once caused.

      “Someone hit me.”

      “He won’t anymore. Not ever again. I’m here now, Sunshine.”

      He ached to pull her into his arms and hold her tenderly, but he shoved aside his needs, his urge to comfort her by touch and satisfy himself she was unharmed. Instead, he knelt and untied her hands and used his voice to give reassurance. “You’re safe. Whoever hit you went out the back door. I assume there was just one?”

      Cassidy rubbed her wrists slowly but didn’t attempt to rise from the chair, reminding him of a wild bird caged too long and afraid to fly free. Banishing his own fears at what touching her might do to his turbulent emotions, Jake reached for her, but she twisted away, terror darkening her eyes and arrowing straight to his core.

      Jake ignored her automatic rejection and how much his insides churned. She needed time to recover, time to collect herself. While she watched him with suspicion, he gave up trying to touch her again.

      Jake took his phone off the belt clip. “Harrison, you still there?”

      “Yes, boss.”

      “Inform the cops that the suspect fled the area on foot. We’re okay in here.”

      Distrust still clouding her eyes, Cassidy looked from the gun in Jake’s hand to the phone in the other. Her voice came out like a croak. “What are you doing here?”

      “Explanations can wait. An ambulance is on the way. But let me see to that cut on your lip.” Jake took a clean dish towel, ran water over it, rinsed it out, then wrapped ice in it. He handed it to her. “Place this where it hurts.”

      “Everything hurts.” Eyes narrowed, Cassidy stared at his gun as if she feared he’d shoot her any second.

      Jake put on the safety, then handed her his weapon, butt first. “Smell my gun. It hasn’t been fired. Someone else attacked you, Sunshine. I would never hurt you.”

      She sniffed the gun, and just the fact that she couldn’t take his word squeezed Jake’s emotions all over again. But he felt better when some of the fear left her eyes. He also realized how innocent she was. If he had been the intruder, he could have had two weapons.

      Cassidy didn’t seem to have the strength to hold the ice to her swollen lip. Slowly he knelt beside her. “Here, let me do that.”

      This time she allowed him to touch her. Jake gently eased the ice pack from her lip to her cheeks where bruises were already darkening beneath her golden skin. What kind of bastard struck a helpless СКАЧАТЬ