Identity

“You did great! Want to go across first this time?”

“No, second’s fine with me.”

“Remember what to do?”

“Yeah, I’ve got the not-falling part down solid.”

She watched Liam walk over vertical logs that seemed unnecessarily narrow and spaced unnecessarily wide, then glanced back to see Miles cross the bridge with the same ease as his brother.

Show-offs, she decided, and carefully unlocked her first carabiner, switched it to the next wire, gave it a nice testing tug before she did the second.

The logs swayed, too, but the idea of freezing halfway across kept her moving, kept her stretching a leg out to step from one to the next. The fact she swallowed a couple of squeals before they sounded boosted her confidence.

There were narrow wood swings that swayed, a rope net to traverse.

Liam let out a hoot of approval as she managed them. “You’ve got it! We could sign you up on crew!”

No, she thought as she made her careful way over a long vertical log, then what was, essentially, a tightrope. Definitely no to that.

She climbed a rope ladder, felt her abs sing as she swayed and balanced over the course of tires.

But the trapeze got her. She watched Liam grip it, swing like a circus act from perch to platform.

Her heart hammered; her muscles trembled. This was work! But she gripped the trapeze, sucked in her breath, and pushed off.

And it was like flying. For a second, maybe two, like flying with the air on her face, her body—as the song said—defying gravity.

When she landed on the last platform, her laugh rang out.

“That!” She threw her arms around Liam before she turned to where Miles waited on the trapeze perch behind. “Who knew?”

And that, he knew, was the moment. She stood, face flushed with the effort, with the sudden delight, her arms still around his brother.

Her smile could’ve lit the world.

He didn’t slide out of affection into love, didn’t slip from attraction into forever, but fell long and hard. No safety system could have stopped the fall.

It left him breathless, stunned, and a little bit pissed off.

So he’d think about it later, he told himself. Later, when he’d cleared his head and she wasn’t right there distracting him.

When they’d started down, he swung over, then joined them on the ground.

“Fun, right?”

“More than I expected,” she told Liam. “A lot more than.”

“Wanna go again? There’s time before the next group. I wasn’t sure how long it would take you, but you’re a natural.”

“Once is enough. Absolutely.”

“There’s the zip line, the rock wall.”

“Get out of here.” Laughing, she gave him a shove. “Those are definite nos.”

“Next time, zip line. It’s such a rush and you can see for miles.”

“You’re a maniac. Your brother’s a maniac,” she said to Miles. “I’m going to free Howl.”

“She’s great,” Liam began when she walked away, then shifted his feet. “Look, I wasn’t hitting on her or anything.”

“I know that. And let me add, as if she’d go for it.”

“Well, you look a little pissed, so—”

“No, not that, and yeah, she did fine.”

“I really like her. I mean, sure, in general, but for you. I like her for you.”

“So do I.” Miles unhooked his helmet while the dog greeted her as if she’d been to war. “And maybe that pisses me off a little.”

Liam just slapped his shoulder. “You’ll get over it. The pissed part, I mean.”

“Maybe. Thanks for doing this. I figured she’d be more comfortable with you than one of the Adventure crew.”

“It was fun.” He took the harness from Miles. “She’s gutsy. You gotta give her gutsy. Before we go over, any more on that asshole?”

“Nothing definite. They’re still following leads out west. Maybe Oregon.”

“Maybe he’ll run out of room and take a dive into the Pacific.”

“I could live with that, but it’s better if they find the bastard. She’s never going to be all the way steady until she knows he’s locked up.”

“He can’t run forever, Miles. Nobody can.”

No, Miles thought, but that was the problem. Sooner or later, Rozwell would stop running and try again.



* * *



At home, he lured her into the shower. Not just because he wanted her, and Christ knew he did. But with the hope the sex would clear his brain, return his balance.

It didn’t.

When she went to work, he wandered around his house wondering how it was she filled so many spaces even when she wasn’t there.

He went into his office, looked out of the turret view that had so captivated her. He sat, worked awhile. That filled spaces, too.

But he kept returning to those moments. The moment at the lookout when he’d felt that slip. Then the moment on the ropes, when he felt the fast fall.

And other moments, he admitted. The first time he’d seen her working behind the bar. That little click inside him he’d ignored. Watching her drive away in that rattletrap excuse for a car and wondering. Just wondering.

Seeing the way she worked out in the gym because she was determined to get strong enough to protect herself.

A lot of moments up to the one he’d stepped outside and seen her standing in his front yard with her tub of cookies.

“So what now?”

Beside his chair, Howl muttered his opinion.

“I don’t need your advice. She’s got you wrapped, or you’ve got her. Hell, I guess it’s mutual.”

He sat back, closed his eyes. “So that’s just the way it is.”

Absently, he laid a hand on Howl’s head, and realized his little brother had it right. He’d pretty much gotten over the pissed part.

“She’ll be home in a couple hours.”

And that was the way it was, too, he realized. She’d be home, and he’d be waiting when she got there.

“You might as well do your last patrol.”

They went down, and while Howl did his last patrol, Miles poured a glass of Cab. Thought of her.

Waited for her to come home.





Chapter Twenty-five



The bitch had ruined his life.

Gavin Rozwell stared at the never-ending rain outside the window of the crap motel stuck off the back roads in Oregon, and thought of sunny Mexican beaches. He thought of luxury hotel suites with down pillows and terrace views of sunsets over blue water.

Of champagne nestled in silver ice buckets.

He thought of how it felt to simply snap his fingers for service, and of strolling sun-washed streets knowing he could have anything he wanted.

Everything he was entitled to.

Morgan Albright—or Nash, as she called herself now—had taken that from him. Temporarily, oh yes, temporarily, but she’d taken from him.

He could feel the fucking federal agents breathing down the back of his neck. Literally feel their breath when he woke in some lumpy bed in some dingy room. Woke in a cold sweat in the dark, afraid and disoriented.

He’d taken to leaving a light on because the dark had too many moving shadows.