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Chapter One
Deputy Jesse Ryland slid his hand over the Smith & Wesson in his holster. Normally, that wasn’t something he’d do when paying a visit to Hanna Kendrick, but there was nothing normal about this evening.
Not with a killer on the loose.
A killer who might at this very second be making his way to Hanna.
Jesse couldn’t rein in the motherlode of flashbacks that the killer’s escape from prison was giving him because he knew just how serious a situation this was. As serious as it got for both the job and his personal life.
He’d been a deputy for nearly eight years now in Hanna’s and his hometown of Silver Creek, Texas. Eight years of the badge in a family of badges. Being a cop was in his blood, and in those eight years he’d honed some instincts. Ones that had saved his life. And sometimes they’d let him down.
But he couldn’t allow his instincts to fail him now.
Jesse made his way up the steps of the porch that stretched across the entire front of the pale yellow one-story house. It was a familiar trek for him since he came here at least four times a week to see his six-month-old son, Evan. Those visits with his little boy were priceless, but Hanna hadn’t exactly made him feel welcome here. She wouldn’t now either, and it didn’t take long for Jesse to get confirmation of just that.
Hanna had obviously seen or heard him pull up because she unlocked and opened the door before Jesse could even knock. Even though it was fairly early, she’d already called it a night since she was wearing comfy purple PJs and had her long blond hair loose on her shoulders instead of scooped back in her usual ponytail.
Jesse caught the scent of lemon tea. And Hanna. Nothing flowery or from a bottle. Just her.
As usual, there was wariness in her deep green eyes, and she automatically stepped back as if to make sure they didn’t accidentally touch or breathe in the same air. Not because she hated him. At least, Jesse didn’t think she did anyway. But it was more of her not trusting him. Or anybody else for that matter.
The thin scar on the left side of her forehead had plenty to do with that.
A scar that caused even more flashbacks and bad memories for Jesse than a killer’s escape had. Because that scar was a reminder of just how close she’d come to dying. When she’d been nine months pregnant with their son, no less. Evan and she had survived, thank God, but Hanna had paid a heavy price.
They all had.
“Jesse,” she murmured on a rise of breath.
He heard the wariness that was always there but, as usual, Jesse saw something else. The glimmer of the heat between them. The same heat that had brought about the one-night stand resulting in her getting pregnant with Evan.
Of course, Hanna immediately concealed that glimmer by dodging his gaze. Again, that was the norm. She didn’t want to feel heat for a man she didn’t trust. A man she didn’t even remember.
Hanna was holding her phone, and Jesse could see the app was still open for her security system. She would have had to disarm it before opening the door or it would have triggered the alarms, but he had no doubts that it had been armed when he’d arrived. There was no feeling of a safety net for her anymore, no carefree attitude. She structured her life around locks and security systems.
“Evan’s already asleep,” she added as that breath fell away. Hanna picked up the baby monitor from the foyer table where she’d likely set it when she had opened the door and showed him the image of the baby in his crib.
He nodded. Jesse knew his son’s schedules and routines, and since it was going on eight thirty, Hanna would have already bathed Evan and put him down for the night.
“We need to talk,” Jesse said.
She opened her mouth, closed it and then looked at him as if trying to suss out what this was all about. It definitely wasn’t the norm for him to come to her place when he hadn’t arranged a visit with Evan.
“If this is about my amnesia, it hasn’t gone away,” Hanna volunteered. She absently touched the scar, the evidence of the gunshot wound that had robbed her of the memories of the attack.
And of Jesse.
As far as Hanna was concerned, she didn’t recall a thing about meeting him. Or having sex with him. Didn’t remember even a second of the bond they’d built when she’d been pregnant. Of course, it wasn’t a strong enough bond for Hanna to marry him. Or to fall in love with him. But there sure as heck hadn’t been this distance and mistrust that was there now.
“Did something happen to my mom?” she asked with some fresh alarm straining the muscles in her face.
“No,” he assured her. “As far as I know, your mother is fine. It’s about Bull Freeman.”
Hanna’s eyes widened and, while dragging in a hard breath, she dropped back another step. She might not have any actual memories of Bullock “Bull” Freeman shooting her in what had been a botched attempt to evade arrest, but Hanna was well aware that the man was behind bars.
Or rather that’s where he should be.
A place he should have stayed until his upcoming trial since Bull hadn’t been let out on bail.
