Blind Faith (45 page)

“Follow me, and don’t look guilty.” Matt headed into the chilly dawn, followed by Nathan.

Shane waited until Jory was clear before shutting the door and hustling over to train with Nathan. All

around them, boys engaged in mock fighting. His brother kicked him in the stomach, and he allowed the

pain to disappear before punching Nate in the jaw.

The sun angled through the trees when Commander Phillips strode onto the practice area followed by

two soldiers who pulled behind them a short, dirty man. Grease and debris littered the man’s long dark hair

and beard. The prisoner’s hands were bound behind his back, and he furiously begged in a language Shane

hadn’t learned yet. The man’s bare feet dragged in the dirt, leaving clear tracks. His blood made a swishing

sound as it shot through his veins too quickly. Lung tissue crackled as his breath panted out.

Terror had a sound.

“Soldiers.” The commander called them to attention.

They quickly moved into formation. The commander was straight and sure, his hair cut in a short buzz.

His eyes were a deep, dark black. Shane always tried to concentrate on something else when facing the

commander, sure that getting lost in those black depths would mean death. He knew it somehow.

He and the other boys watched impassively as a soldier forced the prisoner to his knees.

“You’ve been studying anatomy and pressure points for a month now,” the commander said. “Today

we concentrate on the swiftest and most economical way to break someone’s neck.”

The live demonstrations always made Shane’s head pound. Did the prisoner know he was about to die?

Probably. Shane steeled his spine just in case it was his turn. Please don’t let it be his turn.

The commander paused and then called out, “Cadet Shane.”

As Shane moved forward to stand by the prisoner, Matt began to shift from his place in formation,

reaching for the knife sheathed at his calf. Shane subtly shook his head. Even if Matt somehow stabbed the

commander so they could run, they didn’t have anywhere to go. The commander would always find them.

Matt stood down, his entire body tense. As the oldest of the brothers, he considered it his duty to protect

them somehow. Their identical gray eyes met, Matt’s hot and desperate. Shane tried to shrug, but his

shoulders shook instead. His gut hurt.

Hopefully he wouldn’t lose his mind for a few days like Matt had when it had been his turn. Shane

understood this was another part of his training—he was old enough to kill now.

He had just turned ten.

Chapter 1

Present Day

Josie’s heels clicked in rapid staccato against the well-worn tiles, the smell of bleach making her

stomach cramp. Her mind spun. How could this be happening? It must be some sort of trick.

Someone had taped smiling pumpkins along the hospital walls to celebrate the month of October.

Something about their jagged teeth against the dim walls creeped her out. Even as an adult, the sense of

helplessness she’d felt as a child in the hospital caused her body to tense and brace to flee from the

antiseptic smells.

Several nurses converged behind a wide counter, studying charts. Josie ignored them and hurried down

the hall. She reached the last room on the left and ran smack into a uniformed police officer. Bouncing

back, she struggled to balance herself in the heels she’d worn to work. The call had come in after dinner,

and she was still at the office. As usual. A promotion to vice president was up for grabs, and she was going

to get it.

The cop steadied her, dark eyes appraising. “You all right, ma’am?”

“Yes.” She tugged her handbag strap up her arm, needing to get a grip. She was an adult and in control

now. “A Detective Malloy called me to come down. I’m Josie Dean.” Her breath hitched on her last name;

she’d be changing that soon.

“He’s inside with Mr. Dean.”

“Major Dean,” she said automatically, and then her face heated. “I mean, he used to be a major. He may

have been promoted.” She sounded like an idiot.

A voice over a loudspeaker announced a code blue. The officer straightened, listened, and then relaxed

his shoulders as a room on the third floor was named. “You can go right in.” He tipped his head toward the

open doorway before flashing a smile at a pretty nurse pushing a book cart down the hall.

Yeah. She’d
go right in.
Easier said than done. Josie took a deep breath, steeled herself, and walked

inside, her attention instantly captured by the male figure perched against the hospital bed.

For the briefest of seconds, time stopped. Memories flooded through her mind, her body, maybe

somewhere deeper until her lungs forgot their job. That quickly, she was helpless with the need to heal him.

Coughing, she forced air down her throat and took a good look.

Several bandages were strapped across Shane’s muscular torso while a splotchy purple lump rose from

his forehead. His long legs were encased in bloody jeans, and he’d crossed his thick boots at the ankles. He

sat bare to the waist, his scarred chest and packed abs betraying a life of combat. The new wounds would

fit with the rest.

Those scars broke her heart all over again.

His gray eyes lasered in on her, and she fought the urge to run. Pain, need, and familiarity swirled

through her brain. Her skin warmed. Damn, he looked good. Dark brown hair swept back from his battered

face, and even with the bruises, his rugged features spoke of strength and masculine beauty. Fierce and

dangerous like a wolf.

His hair had grown to his shoulders and added a wild new edge to the danger.

She had a lot of layers, and he’d appealed to her on each one by providing security and fulfilling her

desperate need to belong. Until he’d abandoned her. She faltered and clutched her handbag strap until the

leather cut into her skin.

A throat cleared. “Mrs. Dean?”

“Josie.” She shifted her focus to a man in a rumpled brown suit who leaned against a poster depicting

the inner ear. The room was small—examination table, smooth counter with sink, one rolling chair for a

doctor. Yet she hadn’t even noticed the other man until he made a sound. “Detective Malloy?”

“Yes.” Shrewd eyes the color of his suit studied her, and he began scribbling in a notebook. “Is this

your husband?”

The quiet power of Shane’s presence yanked her attention back to him. Even after all this time, he

commanded her body’s responses. He cocked his head as if awaiting her answer.

She nodded. “This is Shane Dean.” This couldn’t be happening. The helplessness she’d felt as a

frightened and hurting child in the hospital closed in on her. The need to flee made her knees tremble. She

focused on the closest person she had to family, struggling to keep her lips firm. It was really him. Really

Shane. “They said you have amnesia.”

Shane gave a short nod. “I can’t remember a damn thing.”

The familiar rumble of his voice slammed into her solar plexus. Emotion washed through her edged

with a sharp pain. Two years. Two long years since he’d left her. “What happened?”

The detective stopped writing. “We were hoping you might provide an explanation. Where was your

husband going today?”

She barked out a laugh. Seriously? “I have absolutely no idea. We’re separated.”

Shane stilled, the air thickening with tension around him. “We are?”

“I haven’t seen you in two years.” Her voice shook, and she fought to settle raw nerves. She would not

let him affect her. “I didn’t even know you were back in the country.”

“What country should he have been in?” the detective asked.

Like she’d know. “He’s in the marines based out of Pendleton. Call them.” Wait a minute. “How did

you know to call me if you didn’t know he was in the military?” She took a small step back to study her

husband. “And what are you doing in Washington State?”

Shane shrugged. The paper on the table crinkled as he moved. “Dunno. Probably coming to visit you

from my home in Oregon? I have an Oregon driver’s license as well as a card with your name and phone

number in my wallet… along with our marriage license. Am I from Oregon?”

Her thoughts began to swirl. “Yes. I mean, I think so.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “You don’t know?”

“No. I didn’t know much about you, Shane. We met in California and married there.” Within three

weeks of meeting each other—the one and only time in her life she’d taken a risk and been spontaneous. Of

course it had ended in disaster. She had been so stupid. What had she been thinking?

The detective cleared his throat. “Your husband isn’t wearing dog tags. He was found down by the

river, which is miles across the city from your home. To your knowledge, does he know anyone else here

in Snowville?”

“No.” At least, she didn’t think so. More than 100,000 people lived in the eastern Washington town.

Shane might know somebody else who lived there.

Her knees began to tremble, and she forced them still with stubborn pride. She dug her nails into her

palms to quell the urge to caress his bruises. Her romantic notion of being able to heal him, to show him

love was possible, had earned her a broken heart. Rightfully so. It was over.
They
were over. Her body

needed to freakin’ remember that fact. As did her heart.

Shane’s eyes sharpened. “When did you move to Washington?”

“Two years ago.”

“When we separated.”

“Yes.”

He lifted an eyebrow in an expression she remembered well. “Did I know we were separated?”

Warmth flushed through her chest, just under the skin. “Ending our marriage was your choice.” In fact,

he hadn’t bothered to officially end the marriage. He had just disappeared—leaving her alone after making

promises he clearly had never intended to keep. Some people didn’t get a family, and she should’ve

remembered that before trusting him.

The detective clicked his pen, gaining her attention. “Please explain. Is it some religious type of deal?

The separation?”

Josie tilted her head. “Excuse me?”

Malloy straightened his pose against the wall. “The separation instead of a divorce. Is it a religious

deal?”

Josie blew out air. “No. We’re getting a divorce. I didn’t feel right requesting it in absentia, and I wanted

to wait until Shane could sign the papers. It just seemed fair…” She’d wanted to face him, to end it right.

Of course, there had always been that tiny chance he’d try to win her back—explain why he’d deserted her.

No such luck.

Now she’d had enough of waiting—the papers were ready. As was she.

“That was nice of you, to wait I mean.” Irony clanged in Shane’s tone and spurred Josie’s vertebrae to

snap to attention one at a time.

“Yes, it was.” More than once she had thought about filing the papers, but she couldn’t steel herself to

end it one-sided. To divorce a soldier most likely in combat seemed wrong. Even after everything, to hurt

him like that would hurt her more. “I sent the divorce papers to your base in Pendleton. You could’ve

mailed signed copies back to me.”

“Maybe I don’t want a divorce.” Shane’s jaw set in the way always guaranteed to prod her temper.

She forced anger down. Way down. She would not argue in front of the cop. Her gaze searched Shane’s

bruised face. “Was he mugged?”

The detective began to write again. “We don’t know. If so, the muggers might need medical help, as

well.” He gestured toward Shane’s bloodied knuckles. “He beat the crap out of someone.” Scribble.

Scribble. “Ah, Mrs. Dean, would you know anyone who’d want to injure or kill your husband?”

Besides her? She’d have to know him to know his enemies—and she didn’t. “No. But again, I haven’t

seen Shane in years. You really should contact the military. Or his brothers.”

Shane’s head snapped up. “Brothers?”

“Yes. You let it slip once that you had brothers.” How could he not remember anything? For a control

freak like Shane, it had to be hell. “Though I have no idea who they are.”

He exhaled in exasperation, and his gaze wandered over her face in a caress so familiar she almost

sighed. “Sounds like I didn’t trust you much, blue eyes.”

“You don’t trust anybody.” She’d given him everything she had, and it wasn’t enough. Tears pricked

the backs of her eyes, and she ruthlessly batted them away. He didn’t get to see her cry now. Before he’d

left, there was one night when she’d thought they were getting closer, she had thought he was finally letting

her in. Then he’d disappeared.

His eyes warmed and a hint of a smile threatened. A tension of a different sort began to heat the room.

Josie tugged her jacket closed as her traitorous nipples peaked. She’d forgotten his ability to shift affection

into desire. Damn the man.

Shane glanced over his bare right shoulder. “Have I always had the tattoo?”

“Yes.” Malloy leaned for a better look. “Nice symbol. What does it mean?”

“Freedom,” Shane murmured, rubbing his shoulder. He swiveled his head to meet Josie’s gaze, both