The Rescue Of Jenna West Read online

  She found herself smiling at their banter. Sam was a charmer, she admitted, not feeling in the least threatened. Perhaps it was only because Linc had told her about Sam’s recent losses, but Jenna thought his eyes seemed haunted behind that devilish glint.

  Touched by the deep affection between the two men, the last of her tension drained away and she forgave Sam for scaring the life out of her.

  A sudden urgency stormed through her. Watching Linc with his brother made her ache to be more than his patient, more than a woman he had helped because he owed her. He’d told her she was more than that to him, but how could she be more?

  This sensual awareness, the thawing of her most feminine senses tempted her to accept Linc’s challenge, to make love with him, but she couldn’t forget the ugly reality that lurked just beyond his doors. Ramsey would never let her forget.

  She drank in the sight of Linc’s strong features, his fatigued smile as he spoke to his brother. With rising frustration and self-disgust, Jenna reminded herself she couldn’t even find the courage to explore the physical attraction between them, the sense of completeness and belonging he stirred in her.

  Again she remembered the fierce heat of his passion, the gentleness of his kiss and a bleak realization settled over her. For the first time, she couldn’t imagine the rest of her life without Linc, but she had no right to him. She was still married to the past.

  She tore her gaze from Linc and moved out of the kitchen. “I’ll let you two talk.”

  Feeling his watchful gaze on her back, she headed for her bedroom. When this was all over, where would they be? Afraid to think the worst, not daring to hope for the best, she walked down the darkened hallway, torn between fierce longing and brutal experience.

  Sam walked to the kitchen door, watching Jenna thoughtfully as she disappeared down the hallway leading to her room. He turned back to Linc. “Mace caught me up on what’s going on. How’s she doing?”

  “Considering what Ramsey’s doing to her, pretty good, I think.” Linc took in his brother’s dark, stubbled jaw, the red-rimmed blue eyes, the wrinkled T-shirt and grimy jeans. “How are you doing? You look terrible.”

  “Thanks,” Sam replied, planting his palms flat on the counter tile of the center island. “I was going for that nineties grunge look.”

  “Really, Sam. Are you still seeing the department shrink?”

  His brother shrugged in that all too familiar dismissive gesture that meant he’d rather talk about his sex life to their parents, Cliff and Bonnie. “I think I’ve come to terms with Brad’s death.”

  “What about Dallas? Have you heard from her—”

  “No.” Sam’s jaw snapped shut on the word, making it clear he didn’t want to discuss his partner’s widow, either.

  Linc distinguished the pain beneath his brother’s acid retort and wondered for the hundredth time what had happened to the heretofore good friendship between his brother and Dallas Kittridge. Whether it had been Brad’s death or Dallas’s leaving, something of Sam had gone, too. He had never told Linc or Mace.

  Linc could respect that. He’d waited over two years before he’d told either of them about the baby.

  Sam eyed Linc with lazy cunning. “Have you told Jenna about Michelle?”

  Linc’s gaze sliced to him. “Why would I—”

  “It’s obvious she’s more than your patient.” Sam cocked an eyebrow. “So, have you?”

  Linc’s gaze went thoughtfully to the empty doorway. “Yes.”

  “Is that right?” Sam’s voice brimmed with pleased disbelief.

  “Don’t choke on those feathers in your mouth,” Linc growled, slanting him a look.

  “Well, you’ve never told anyone else.”

  “I know.”

  Sam’s grin slipped slightly. “And you’ve told her about the baby?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow.”

  Strangely, Linc’s thoughts of the baby didn’t knife through him with their usual razor-edge. The pain had dulled and again he was glad he’d shared it with Jenna.

  At Linc’s admission, Sam turned serious. “You’re really falling for her, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.” He exhaled loudly. “She’s just not falling for me.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re losing your touch, big brother.”

  “I haven’t had a ‘touch’ for years,” Linc reminded sardonically.

  “You’re not the only one who’s lost it,” Sam muttered.

  “What’s that?” Linc looked closely at him.

  His brother chuckled. “It’ll come back to you. It’s like sex—”

  “Jenna’s different.”

  “Yeah, I can tell.” Sam nailed him with a steely look. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

  Linc snorted. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, tell her. Don’t screw around about it, either.” Something like regret shaded Sam’s voice. He sounded as if he knew from experience and Linc frowned.

  Sam straightened, his eyes earnest. “Mace will get Ramsey, Linc. Don’t wait until then to let her know how you feel.”

  Linc rubbed his neck, wondering exactly what his feelings were for Jenna. Oh, he knew he wanted her. And trusted her. But beyond that? “I’ll be glad when the whole thing’s over. I hate what he’s doing to her.”

  Sam nodded, walked to the kitchen doorway and called out, “Goodbye, Jenna! It was nice to meet you.”

  “Goodbye.” She appeared in the entryway, holding a brush in her good hand, reminding Linc that they still needed to drop by her house and pick up a few things.

  “I’m ready if you are,” he said, then turned to Sam to explain their plan.

  “Want me to come along?” Sam asked.

  Linc slanted a glance at Jenna, taking in her composed features, her beautiful eyes. “Nah, we’ll be fine.”

  She nodded imperceptibly, smiling at Sam. “Thanks, though.”

  “No problem.” He grinned on his way out the door. “Hope to see you again soon.”

  Jenna didn’t respond, but hope shot through Linc like a rocket flare. He didn’t know exactly what he wanted, but he did know he wasn’t ready for her to walk out of his life.

  That cool logical side of his brain told him to wait until this was over before trying to pin her down about her feelings, but Linc had seen over the ten days how uncertain, how volatile life could be. Tomorrow couldn’t be taken for granted, especially with someone as crazy as Ramsey thrown into the mix.

  Linc didn’t want to add to Jenna’s pressures, but he wanted to know if she was at all interested in giving them a chance. Sam was right. It was time.

  Indecision sawed at her and she toyed with the frayed hem of her denim shorts. What was she going to do? She could no longer deny the bond she and Linc shared. It was more than the pain of their separate traumas. It was a meeting of their hearts, their souls. And Jenna didn’t want to turn away from that.

  But how could she let herself believe in something that might never be? Ramsey’s malice, his deliberate onslaught of her shriveled every hope of the future she had.

  She slid a glance at Linc, wishing she could scoot across the bench seat and sit next to him. He’d been quiet for most of the drive, yet she sensed a restlessness in him. A couple of times she thought he’d been about to speak, but he hadn’t.

  The radio played softly in the background, and she found herself aching at the stroking melody of Conway Twitty’s “Slow Hand.” The chorus brought to mind Linc’s patient treatment of her, the fragile web of seduction he’d slowly woven around her with his trust and gentleness and desire.

  Thank goodness, Linc hadn’t tried again to change her mind about being frigid. After that kiss last night, her body still thrummed with need, a low simmer that needed only a touch or a look from him to ignite the heat in her again. And tempt her to believe, to try, to risk.

  She could no longer deny something strong and intense burned between them, but neither could she encourage it.

 
; “Jenna?”

  “Hmm?” She tried to pretend an interest in the passing landscape, the stop sign where Linc pulled up at Coltrane and Danforth, nearing her housing addition.

  “I want a chance. For us.” He spoke fervently, his eyes steely with intent. “When this is all over, I want a chance to convince you that things can work between us. That you can be different with me.”

  Her head whipped toward him. She should’ve guessed by his uneasiness, his nervousness that he was leading up to this, yet she hadn’t. “Linc—”

  “Say yes, Jenna. Say yes.”

  Not far away, a siren wailed. Behind them, a car honked and Linc turned right, heading south on Coltrane.

  “Why won’t you just let it go?” she asked tiredly, although a small finger of warmth worked through her at his determination. “When this is over, you’ll want to be rid of me, move on with your life.”

  “When this is over, my life won’t be the same and neither will yours.” He reached over and squeezed her hand.

  She couldn’t deny that, nor could she seem to deny herself his touch.

  As they neared the turn-in to her neighborhood, she glimpsed a billow of black smoke. Then the acrid odor filtered into the truck. “I don’t know, Linc. I don’t want to say no, but I don’t see how I can say yes.”

  “Because of Ramsey?”

  “Of course.” The bitter odor of smoke grew stronger, tickling her throat.

  “Is that all?” he asked tightly.

  She gazed at him full on. “Are you asking if I still believe I’m frigid? I am, Linc.”

  “Well, I don’t believe it.” He slammed a palm against the steering wheel. “You couldn’t have kissed me like that last night if—”

  “Obviously, that’s not the part I have trouble with,” she said ruefully, her heart aching, wishing he would let the subject drop.

  “You felt something.” He hit the turn signal with force.

  “You know I did.” Her heart broke, not only for the frustration he must be feeling, but for the chance she was probably ruining right now. “Yes, I responded to your kiss, but what if that’s all I can do? Even before the rape, I had no success with sex. I’ve never been that comfortable with it—”

  “You do respond to me, Jenna. We can start there.”

  “But—”

  “Give us a chance. When this is all over, let’s try.”

  He turned down her street and the shrill scream of a siren startled both of them.

  He spoke louder, slowing as they drove down her street. “I want the chance to convince you that this thing between us is stronger than the both of us, that together we can figure out how to make it work. I’m willing to take a chance if you are.”

  Astounded at his words, at the hope shining in his eyes, she looked at him for a long moment. Screeching horns and sirens clanged, deafeningly close, but she tried to keep her mind focused on Linc.

  His fervent belief made her want to agree, to say whatever he wanted to hear and she found she couldn’t deny him this time.

  He squeezed her hand again, his eyes earnest. “Come on. What do you say?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to—” A puff of black smoke rolled across the hood and she turned, frowning out the windshield.

  How close was that fire? The stench of smoke charred the air, overwhelming now. She stared in disbelief at the number of cars jammed onto her block. Fire engines, police cars, news vehicles from different local channels, and clots of people cluttered the street.

  What was going on? What had—Dread hammered through her, aborting her thought. As Linc slowed the truck to a crawl, she had a perfect view between the corner of a fire truck and a news camera.

  She couldn’t breathe, wouldn’t let herself think it, wouldn’t even allow the possibility to skim through her mind. She completely forgot Linc’s question, forgot everything.

  Not my house. Please, not my house.

  Hoses writhed, spewing water at the burning house. Her house. Yellow-coated firemen swarmed in her yard, flanking her house, wielding hoses like sabers, trying to battle the searing enemy at their head.

  Linc choked out something in a harsh voice. He braked to a stop several houses away, as close as he could get. Jenna was out of the truck and running hard before he even killed the engine.

  Moving on pure adrenaline, she elbowed her way through the crowd, smoke and heat stinging her eyes. Breaking free of the tight clump of bodies, she jumped the curb and tore across the yard, her shoes squishing in the muddy earth. She sprinted toward her house and straight into the arms of a husky fireman.

  “No!” she screamed, struggling to escape his hold. “That’s my house! That’s my house!”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.” He held her tight, his yellow coat smeared with grime, stinking of smoke. Dark compassionate eyes stared at her from behind a mask. “We’re doing everything we can. It was blazing pretty good by the time we got here.”

  He moved her easily back to the curb and stood beside her, holding her by the arm. Riveted in horror, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. Wicked flames spit and hurled out of her house, shattering glass, reaching out the windows to crawl like fingers across the walls, over the roof, curling paint and popping shingles as it moved.

  Even from yards away, heat seared her cheeks, toasted her clothing. She was vaguely aware of water soaking through her shoes and she knew she stood in deep puddles of filthy hydrant water. Her nerves seared into numbness. Pressure, tight and hot, built in her chest.

  “How?” she asked numbly.

  The fireman shook his head. “We don’t know yet.”

  But she knew. She knew.

  A slight wind picked up and buffeted her body. She stood there, heedless of soot and dirty water flying around her, splattering her clothing, raining down on her pristine cast like drops of blood. It might as well be her blood, she thought dully.

  Ramsey was drawing it out drop by agonizing drop, stripping her of everything, everyone.

  “You got her?” the fireman said.

  “Yes.”

  Linc. Jenna recognized his voice and turned blindly toward it. The fireman released her and she stepped on wooden legs toward Linc. She looked into agonized, enraged eyes. “He burned my house. He burned...my house,” she repeated in flat monosyllables. “My house.”

  They seemed to be the only words she knew, the only words that made sense.

  Fury crested on his features. Tears glittered in his eyes and he pulled her to him. The sobs tore free then, exploding through her chest, pouring out of her with savage intensity. She couldn’t get a breath, could only sob helplessly against Linc’s hard chest.

  His arms closed tight around her and she latched on to his strength with frightened desperation. He pressed her face into his chest, buried his face in her neck, and stood with her, enduring, supporting, constant.

  “First and ten, do it again. First and ten, do it again.” Deke chanted the words in a measured, slow rhythm, each one accompanying the blows he struck against the big man’s body.

  From the back room of Jenna’s clinic, dogs bayed and howled, putting up a good, futile fuss at his presence. Deke studied the man who now lay on the floor.

  Blood oozed from the guy’s ear, from several places on his back and shoulders, seeping through the fabric of his work shirt.

  Deke felt only blind rage, fueling each blow. He narrowed his eyes at the doctor, remembering the little message he’d left for Jenna at her house. Someone would’ve become aware of that by now. A burning house was hard to miss. Satisfaction curled through him. He was eliminating her possessions, her friends, her protection, one by one. Just like she had done to him.

  Deke let his gaze wander around the back room of her clinic. He had finally realized she would have someone looking after her patients. The dogs had a clear view of him from the back room and had started a ruckus as soon as he’d entered.

  Now their barking turned to vicious snarls. They pawed frantically at the doors
on their cages, clanging steel and metal in an effort to get at him.

  Their constant, deafening barks swelled in his head, causing his concentration to falter. “Shut up,” he screamed.

  For an instant, the dogs quieted, one emitting a tiny whimper as the noise died. He smirked, raised the bat again to hit this lanky cowboy veterinarian. The dogs exploded in a frenzy of sound and motion, bucking in agitation, scratching at the cages, the steel doors clattering like rocks on metal, jumbling with their shrill piercing barks.

  “Shut up! Shut up!” Deke narrowed his eyes at the doctor on the floor. Blood matted in the man’s auburn hair, splattered on Jenna West’s clean white tile.

  One down, two to go. The guy was big and had put up a good fight. Deke fingered his swollen jaw and busted nose, thinking that the guy looked vaguely familiar. Deke had a sense that he’d known him long ago. Maybe in college? Before his whole life had been ruined by Jenna West.

  The rage crested again, blocking out everything except the triumph, the calculation. Deke had eliminated one more layer of protection from the wall around Jenna West. All that remained was to get that policeman and the other guy. If he hadn’t missed his aim at the cemetery, the cop would already be gone, but it didn’t matter. Deke always sacked his opponents.

  Now that there was no longer anyone here to care for her animals, she’d be back. He was more than ready.

  When he got his hands on Jenna West—

  He grew hard, sliding his blood-speckled hand to his crotch. He was going to make her suffer, just like she’d done him all these years. Ah, when he got ahold of her, he was going to tear her up. He was going to strip her naked and—

  The crunch of gravel speared through his fantasy and his head snapped up. Gripping the bat, he stepped to the front door and peered out the glass. Damn! A woman with a poodle climbed out of a gray station wagon.

  Deke whirled, leapt over the doctor’s motionless body and sprinted through the back room. Dogs yelped and snarled as he passed, clawing at their cages to get out. But they couldn’t catch him. No one had ever been as fast as he was.