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his lungs. Hannah placed bloody fingers on his neck, felt for a pulse. He must have had one because she didn’t start CPR, just continued her rescue breathing.
Paramedics hurried into the diner with a stretcher as those damn bells over the front door jingled wildly, breaking the tense silence that had descended over the crowd as they’d watched the new waitress save a man’s life.
“All right everyone,” Dec said, his voice loud. “Let them through. Hurry, please.”
The crowd backed away, allowing the paramedics to get to Mr. Hardy. Seeing her giving him breaths through the straw, one of them pulled a piece of flexible tubing from their bag. Hannah slid back on her knees to let the woman swap the drink straw for the sturdier version as the other paramedic hooked up the oxygen and began using the familiar squeeze bag to give him the air he needed. I listened as Hannah gave a report to the male/female EMS team. She didn’t sound like a First Responder. Hell, she didn’t even sound like a paramedic. She sounded like a doctor. Acted like one, too.
Dec and Sam helped lift Mr. Hardy onto the stretcher as the paramedic continued to bag him. They didn’t linger, quickly wheeling him out of the restaurant with a stoic Mrs. Hardy right with them, but my eyes never left Hannah as she stood and watched them leave. Dec went with the paramedics, too busy now in cop mode to figure out what the hell was going on with our woman.
After they left and the patrons started filing back to their tables, Hannah bent down to retrieve the knife and start cleaning the blood off the floor with a rag that Jessie gave her. Her fingers were stained, too.
Seeing this other side of Hannah—it threw me. She was either a paramedic or a fucking doctor. No way some average person knew how to do what she just did. She’d said she’d gone to Stanford, but nothing more. Obviously, there was a whole lot more.
I didn’t know what to make of it, just that she’d been hiding this part of herself from us. A very big part. Why would she do that? What had she done to make her want to keep it a secret? What was her agenda? She’d lied, or at least lied by omission and I couldn’t stand that. Just like Courtney, my bitch of a stepmother, this woman had been faking it with us from the start, pretending to be something she wasn’t.
She’d been playing us for fools.
I joined her on the ground, my hand on her arm, the grip firm. She looked down at where I touched her and then back up at me, her eyes wide with surprise. I couldn’t have kept the anger out of my voice if I’d tried. “You’re no waitress,” I said. “So who the hell are you?”
She jerked back, scrambling to her feet, the bloody knife limp in one hand, the red stained rag in the other. I stood, too, and she backed away from me so quickly, she bumped into an empty table, scattering silverware. “I—I’m Hannah Lauren.”
Her eyes were wide and slightly pleading, as if she could get out of answering questions by playing the damsel in distress. She may have saved the man’s life, but she’d messed up. Given herself away. I’d known women like Hannah—beautiful and too smart for their own good. Clearly, she had a plan—she was playing some sort of game with us. Why else would she be keeping so many secrets and lying to us about her past? “What are you up to? What do you want from us?”
My worst fears threatened to consume me. This was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid since my father got taken for a ride by my stepmother. I should have seen it coming. Hannah seemed too good to be true—sweet, smart, gorgeous. Of course, she was up to something.
A new thought ripped through me, making me see red. Maybe she’d been screwing with us all along. She could be a grifter, for all we knew. Hell, she could have fucked us just to get her hands on our money. On my ranch. “Is that why you slept with us last night? Did you think you could get something out of it? Ride my dick and get me to give you whatever you want?”
Her eyes grew wide and she wiped her still-bloody hands on her white apron, leaving red streaks in her wake. “I don’t want anything.”
Liar. She’d been evading the truth from the start, so how the hell could I trust her word now? I took a step closer and leaned down so she had to look me in the eyes. I saw the flare of fear in her green gaze. “I can’t condone liars, Hannah. I don’t know what you’re up to or why you’re really in Bridgewater, but you’re not going to get away with it, whatever your game is.”
CHAPTER NINE
HANNAH
I hadn’t heard from Declan or Cole in the twenty-four hours since the emergency. What should have been a great moment—someone had called Jessie and let her know the man was going to be fine—had rapidly turned into something terrible. I was glad I’d saved the man’s life, of course, and for a moment there it had been nice to feel that rush of adrenaline again, the knowledge that I was in the perfect position to help someone. That’s what I’d been trained to do, to help people. But that fleeting sense of euphoria had come crashing down after my run-in with Cole.
I hadn’t expected his harsh reaction but, at the same time, I couldn’t entirely blame him. He and Declan had been straightforward with me from the start. Honest. They’d made it clear that they wanted me, and not just for one night. They’d wanted me to be the one. Their wife.
I’d known it, known the depth of their intentions, but I’d still assumed it was just a roll in the hay. A quick, hot romp with two cowboys. Or, for them, a wild night with the new waitress. Nothing more. But Cole had been angry. No, furious. If he’d just wanted a quick fuck and nothing more, he wouldn’t have cared, wouldn’t have hated me so much now.
And if I didn’t care for the two of them more than I ever imagined, I wouldn’t be so upset. I’d hurt him. Not intentionally, but I had. He thought me conniving or a gold digger. Or worse. I’d ruined something really good all because of Brad.
Damn him!
My chest ached and I fought back bitter tears. I’d wanted to tell Cole the truth yesterday, but how could I? If word got out that I was here and Brad found me…it wouldn’t just be me in danger. He’d target Declan and Cole, too. Jessie, even.
I wiped off an empty table with shaking hands. The unfairness of it all made me want to scream, but I had to keep my emotions under wraps. I was the object of enough scrutiny as it was, thanks to that impromptu tracheotomy. Jessie had been giving me odd looks ever since, not to mention the gawking stares from my customers.
Word spread quickly in Bridgewater, and a makeshift operation on the floor of the town’s favorite diner? I was pretty sure the news of what had happened spread across the entire town before the ambulance had left the scene.
I’d barely slept a wink, reliving everything. The wild night, the following morning, the picnic, the trach, the harsh look on Cole’s face. Even in my dark bedroom with my eyes closed, I saw it all clearly. Heard his harsh words.
Is that why you slept with us last night? Did you think you could get something out of it? Ride my dick and get me to give you whatever you want?
Exhausted, I tried to keep a smile on my face during the lunch rush but it had gotten harder and harder as the hours passed. It became increasingly clear that Declan and Cole wouldn’t be coming, wouldn’t be smiling and flirting with me. Wouldn’t be asking me out again. I’d been dreading seeing Cole again…but I was eager to see him at the same time, to see him wink at me and give me that wry smile.
No. I wasn’t going to see that again. He’d been so angry—and so sure that I’d had ulterior motives. I felt sick just knowing he thought I’d slept with them as some sort of game. Did Declan think that, too? I had no way of knowing and much as I wanted to explain everything, I couldn’t. I needed to keep them safe. My hands were tied.
