“About a year ago, I woke up in a tiny room with a knapsack next to the door. There was a date written on the bag. That’show I know how long I’ve been missing,” she said, surprised at how easily her experience tumbled from her lips. Time seemed to stand still as she shared every detail about her experiences from that first day in the tiny room to walking into the Stingray Security Compound.
Lachlan never interrupted her, just listened patiently without indicating what he thought of her story. It sounded crazy, but he had to know everything to help her. She was in over her head.
But something deep within her longed to have him believe her.
Taking a deep breath, Britt said, “This feels hopeless. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know who’s trying to kill me. I’m not sure this is the kind of case you wanted to take on.”
He moved toward the edge of his seat, leaning forward. “I will help ye get ye life back, Britt, and stop whoever is after ye. If ye want me to.” His Scottish brogue had deepened with emotion, each word wrapping around her like a protective embrace. She watched his throat work as he swallowed hard. Noticed the slight tremor in his hands that betrayed how deeply her story had affected him. The distance between them seemed to shrink with each passing moment, though neither had moved.
A tear slipped from her eye, and she swiped it away, hoping he hadn't noticed how his words had broken through her carefully constructed walls. “You want to help me?”
“Yes. I don’t want ye to live another day in fear.”
“But I don’t have enough money to pay for this?—”
“Ye don’t need to pay me. Just tell me ye need my help.”
“I need you … Lachlan. Please help me.”
Chapter 15
I need you … Lachlan.
Lachlan fought every urge to grab her and never let her go. From the minute she walked into the Stingray compound, he knew it was her.
Britt was here with him, beautiful as ever. Adrenaline raced through his veins. She wasn’t a mirage or a fantasy. She was real.
His chest constricted painfully as three years of grief crashed into the present moment. Every night, he'd dreamed of her being alive, only to wake to crushing emptiness. But now ... now her scent filled his nostrils, her voice caressed his ears, and it took every ounce of his military training to maintain his composure.
The love of his fucking life. The mother of his adorable little hen. The woman he couldn’t save when the car bomb exploded before his eyes. Going through the motions of life with a gaping hole in his heart. His only joy was the daughter she’d blessed him with. The little angel whose face was the perfect blend of each of theirs.
Britt Freeman was alive.
She hadn’t died in that car bomb.
But she had amnesia.
She didn’t remember her life.
Didn’t think it was hers.
And she didn’t remember him.
For now, that didn’t matter.
He couldn’t deny that it was blissful torture—having her so close yet unable to hold her, to tell her about their beautiful daughter, to remind her of their love story. Each moment felt like walking on a knife's edge between professional distance and desperate longing.
But he’d take an alive Britt with no memories over the hell he’d lived through, thinking she was dead. And his hell was nothing compared to what she’d endured, held against her will by a man who now wanted to kill her. As he listened to her harrowing story, rage warred within him at the bastard who’d taken her away from him and their little girl.
Lachlan would never let anyone hurt Britt again.
He’d find the fucker and destroy him—no matter how long it took.
Britt rubbed her thumb in the palm of her hand, staring down at the floor. How many times had he watched her do that? The sign that she had something on her mind but wasn’t ready to say what it was. She wasn’t sure she should risk sharing her thoughts or feelings. He’d helped her trust him years ago and prayed he could do that again.
“So, what are the next steps?” Britt licked her lips slowly as her dark eyes caressed his face.
His answer couldn’t be what he wanted—to kiss those luscious lips, losing himself in her touch and the feel of her body next to his. As gorgeous as she still was, she’d lost a lot of weight. The curves that delighted him were nearly gone, replaced with a thinner version crafted from deprivation and fear.
