“She is.”
Lake shook her head. “Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare disrespect her memory like that. You’re such a bastard.”
“I’m here for Jessica.”
“Stop!” She covered her ears. “Just stop. Jessica wouldn’t want you here doing what you’re doing.”
Luke couldn’t deny the probable truth in that statement.
“Lake?” He grabbed her hands.
She fought him, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Lake, look at me.”
She opened her red eyes, the ugly-cry grimace still stuck to her face.
“Jessica didn’t die.”
“Oh my God … you’re seeing ghosts. This won’t end well.”
He grabbed her face. “If you never listen to anything I say again, please hear this.”
She blinked, holding her breath.
“Her parents were murdered and her death was faked to protect her from being murdered too.”
Lake blinked some more. Anger and fear converged into complete shock.
“I saw her at the hotel in Houston. I was taken by the people who are supposedly protecting her. That’s why I stood Charlie up.”
“Im-impossible,” Lake whispered.
“I’m here to find her. She and Jude moved to Omaha, but some things have happened in her life and she’s gone again. I need to find her and this is the only place I know where to start.”
“They took you. What does that mean? Took you where? Who took you?”
Her words indicated enough acceptance that he let her go and took a step back. His chin tipped to his chest as he rubbed the tension in the back of his neck.
“That’s a little more complicated. Let’s just say they don’t have much regard for my life or my family’s. Being here puts my life in danger.” He looked up at her.
Realization robbed her face of all color. “And mine is too,” she whispered.
Luke nodded. “I think you should forget everything we’ve just discussed and get on the first flight out tomorrow.”
“Is that what those people said to you?”
“More or less, just with a little more force and a lot more threat.”
“But you’re here anyway.”
“I love her. I was miserable when I thought she died, but knowing she’s alive is a different kind of pain—the kind that will kill me if I can’t be with her.”
“You’re not cheating on her?”
Only Lake could bring a smile to his face in the midst of so much pain. “That depends on how you look at it. I’m searching for a woman with Jessica’s build, but blond hair, and she goes by the name Jillian Knight.”
“Jillian Knight?”
Luke nodded.
“I can’t imagine her as a blonde. How does it look on her?”
“Hideous. Stunning. Disturbing. Mesmerizing.”
Lake laughed. “Well, let’s get some sleep. We have a blonde bombshell named Jillian Knight to track down tomorrow.”
“I want you to go home.”
“I know and I love you too, but by all rights I’m living on borrowed time, with a fake leg and a job that doesn’t pay. I think doing anything but living on the edge would be a crime at this point.”
“I’m serious. If anything happens to you—”
She pressed her finger to his mouth. “Shh … I love her too.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her into him for a big hug. “Some guy, with my scrutinizing approval of course, is going to snatch you up one day and he’s going to be the luckiest guy alive.”
Chapter Twenty
Knight
With minimal convincing, Jackson talked Ryn into staying the weekend at his place. He hesitated for a fraction of a second when she reminded him Gunner would have to come over too. The that-dog-wants-to-rip-my-balls-off look ended with a smile and silent acquiescence.
Jackson loved to eat. Ryn loved to cook. They were a perfect match by any standard. The pang of guilt she felt when he woke up early to go for a run while she nestled back under the covers disappeared the second she realized the kitchen was all hers. A Friday night trip to the store before coming to his place ensured she had everything she needed to make muffins, bacon, seasoned hash, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. It did seem a bit excessive for two people, but Ryn couldn’t resist.
Gunner gave a warning growl when the doorbell rang.
“The dope must have locked himself out.” She wiped her hands and traipsed to the front door wearing nothing but Jackson’s large T-shirt.
Ryn opened the door with a big grin that morphed into a grimace at the two strangers that stood on the opposite side of the storm door that thankfully fogged over within seconds.
“Shoot!” She held up a finger. “Just a minute.” Closing the door, she ran into the bedroom and stripped the T-shirt from her embarrassingly-flushed body then slid into her jeans, a bra, and sweater. There was no time to deal with her hair, so she ran her fingers through it on the way back to the front door.
“Sorry about that. I was expecting someone else.”
The man smiled. “That’s fine. Sorry to disturb you so early in the morning. We’re looking for Jackson Knight.”