The engine died, and the music stopped. Jenna counted to ten, expecting the jerk to whip open the door her any second. She concentrated on her surroundings. No sounds of tires whirring on the nearby road, no birds singing, and no feet crunching on fallen leaves. Where the hell was she? Did he realize she was awake yet? Whatever drug he gave her, it made her mouth dry, her vision blur, and her body slow. Most likely, he was relieving himself or readying his weapon to kill her. Jenna tried to squash the horror running rampant through her brain.

A tap on the window behind her locked her muscles. He’d gone around to the side where her back was. Shit. Wedged in between the back and front seat, there was no way she could turn around in less than a second in order to shoot him. Before she could maneuver into position, the door squeaked open. With his hands under her armpits, he dragged her out and flipped her over so that she was on her stomach, the clutched gun trapped between the ground and her ribs.

“Trying to get away my little cop?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. That voice. That unforgettable voice.

Knowing time was critical, Jenna scrunched into a ball, flipped over, and thrust her feet into him, knocking him backwards. In that split second, she leveled her gun and pulled the trigger. Damn. She hit him in the shoulder. Stupid drugs.

His eyes widened, and the knife he’d been holding dropped to the ground with a dull thud. A gust of wind whirred through the trees as life needed oxygen rushed into her lungs.

The man from Botanica’s backroom stumbled toward her. No way was she going to let him live. With trembling arms, Jenna lowered her gun and pulled the trigger again, sending a pool of blood bubbled out of his crotch, right where she’d aimed.

He dropped to his knees, his eyes vacant. “You bitch.”

Relief powered her body to move the hell away from the madman. Holding the gun with wobbly hands, she jumped up and raced ten feet away from him, ready to move back at any second. She didn’t need the bastard trying to disarm her. Even with two bullets lodged in his body, he could attack. Unless she’d nicked an artery, his bleeding out would take ten, fifteen minutes—equal to a lifetime of waiting.

She waved the gun at him. “Tell me about the nun you killed.” For Carla’s sake, she needed to know.

His contorted face made her think her question didn’t register. “Don’t know.”

“Surely you remember You remember Carla, don’t you? She was the HOPEFAL person you stabbed. Her sister was a nun.”

His eyelids fluttered. “Oh, her. Yeah.” He smiled, blood dripping off his teeth. “I killed the nun all right. Gutted her in fact.” Red caked his lips. He reached across to his shoulder and grabbed his arm, exposing a tattoo in the shape of staff and a snake. The bastard had blown up her car.

Jenna ground her teeth. “Why’d you kill her?” And Chance.

He winced. “She saw me kill a homeless man who was at the wrong place at the wrong time.” His sentences came out in panted bursts. He was dying.

“Then why blow up my car.”

“Revenge.”

Revenge?

“For what your father did to my mother.” The man coughed up blood.

“What did he do?”

“He fucked my mom, so Dad left us. Three kids and he walked about because she couldn’t keep her pants on.” The man’s gaze shot behind Jenna. “What are you doing here?”

Jenna spun around. “Marlon!”

He dragged her behind him. “This killing has to stop.”

“You—”

The man never got to finish the sentence. Marlon shot him through the heart and the man’s head crashed to the ground.

Sam paced Phil’s office. “It’s my fault. I should have gone with her.”

“You didn’t know. Don’t worry. TPD will find her.”

The phone rang and Phil picked up. “It’s Detective Wolfe.”

Sam stood in front of Phil’s desk, his hands clutched in front of him. If anything happened to Jenna, he wouldn’t forgive himself. She was a civilian for God’s sake. Why the police let her put herself in danger made no sense. Where were the cops who were protecting her?

Phil disconnected and placed the phone on his desk. “Detective Giombetti found Jenna. She’s okay.”

“Thank God.”

Phil leaned back in his seat. “The good news is that the killer is dead.”

The relief socked him in the chest. “That’s wonderful. Can I talk to her?”

“She’s at University Community Hospital.”

His euphoria died. “Is she hurt?”

Sam didn’t like the way Phil avoided eye contact. “He didn’t give me any details. I say we see for ourselves.”

Because Sam’s assistant, Lara, was down at the DNA lab, he left a note saying he might be gone for the rest of the day. If Jenna needed him, he wanted to be there for her. She’d been through so much.

“Do we know the name of the man who attacked Jenna?” Sam asked as he followed behind the fast moving wheelchair.

“Not yet. He had no identification on him. Marlon Giombetti delivered the fatal bullet before they learned who he was.”

Phil punched the electric door button and headed outside. Sam’s boss drove and parked in the handicapped spot. The moment Phil cut the engine, Sam dashed out.

“Wait up,” Phil called.

Sam realized his insensitivity in rushing off. “Sorry.” His mind was barely functioning.

Together they entered the Emergency Room waiting area. This time, the cold, depressing place didn’t dampen his spirits. The maniac was dead and Jenna would be safe, and her bright, indomitable spirit would shine forever. After Phil flashed his credentials, they made it to Jenna’s room.

To his delight, Jenna was out of bed and dressed. She limped toward them. “Hey, guys! The doctor just released me.”

“That was fast.” Sam scanned her body for trauma, but she looked good. Too good. He rushed up to her and folded her in his arms. He pressed kisses to her head, drinking in the wonder of her. He leaned back and looked into her eyes. “I was so worried about you.”

“I’m fine. Just a little shaken. It’s not everyday I get gagged and bound and tossed in the back of a car.” She held out her hand, and her fingers trembled.

“Let’s get out of here, then.” Now wasn’t the time to discuss the near death experience. “How about some food, a hot shower, and some bedtime?” He winked.

“Sounds divine.” She leaned around him. “Hi, Phil.”

Sam wanted to shout for joy, but he didn’t want to bring in the nurses. Thankful Jenna didn’t seem scarred physically or emotionally, he escorted her out in the required wheelchair.

Once they were seated in the back seat of Phil’s van, she tapped him on the shoulder. “Mind dropping us off at Lettuce Lake? My car’s still there, I hope.”

Phil didn’t answer. Instead he made a call. When he was done, he started the engine. “TPD hasn’t towed your car yet. Guess they figured you’d be back for it.”

After Sam and Jenna picked up her car, they headed home. Home. Such a nice word. He’d made a large meatloaf the night before, ready for feasting tonight.

Though seemingly upbeat, between Jenna’s poor posture and dark circles under her eyes, he figured she must be exhausted. “You sure you’re okay?”

He took his gaze off the road for a brief moment and squeezed her thigh. While her shirt looked a bit soiled, he couldn’t detect any visible injuries.

“He drugged me,” she said to his unasked question.

Sam swerved, nearly running off the road. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m not ready to relive the horror.”

Oh God. “Did he... touch you?”

“You mean did he rape me?” She shook her head.

“Thank God.” Jenna turned her head and gazed out the window. He understood her need to mull over the event. Hell, when his father died, he’d refused to address the issue for months.

Neither spoke for the rest of the short trip home. If he’d known today would have gone as it had, he would have decorated the house or picked up a bottle of champagne to celebrate her return to a normal life. He pulled into the driveway and helped Jenna inside.

She tossed her jacket onto the back of the kitchen chair and punched the answering machine.

“You have one message. Message one, Wednesday, one PM. This is the Sharp’s Dry Cleaners. Your uniforms are ready for pick up.”

Until Jenna’s shoulders stiffened, the message didn’t register. “Uniforms? What are those for?”

She spun around, her eyes looking haunted. “Can we sit? I need to tell you something.”

Sam obeyed, his pulse racing. “Shoot.”

“There’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I couldn’t think of an easy way to do it.”

With the danger over, he could draw only one conclusion. “You’re kicking me out?”

Her smile wobbled. “No! You mean the world to me.” She wrung her hands together. “I’m not who you think I am.”

He didn’t like the dreaded tone in her voice, nor did he understand what she meant. “And just who are you?”

“I’m a cop.” His eyes widened, and then his brows furrowed. “I was working undercover at Botanica on a case when you wandered into the shop.”

Only the beginning part stuck in his brain. “You’re a cop and you conveniently forgot to mention this?” His voice escalated into a shout.

“I was working undercover. How did I know I could trust you? Undercover cops don’t shout they’re cops to everyone.”

“So now I’m just everyone?” Sam pushed the chair back so hard it fell backwards and clanked against the hard kitchen floor. “We almost live together. I’ve made love to you. When were you going to tell me about this new profession?”

“I meant to, but somehow the timing wasn’t right. I knew you’d be upset.”

“Upset? You’re damned right I’m upset.” He paced the small, galley kitchen, no doubt wearing a hole in the tile. “Do you know what I went through when you put yourself in danger? Why didn’t you tell me then you were a cop and save me a smidgen of grief?”

Jenna looked shell shocked. Tough. He hated lies. He’d even told her so when he bared his soul to her.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry. Well, I’m more sorry. You know, I’m just a dumb fuck. For a PhD, I’ve got no common sense. I tell you my life story and what did I get in return? Nothing. Were you laughing at me the whole time when I mentioned how my dad died, how my brother stole goods to get enough money to put food on the table, or how my mom drank herself into oblivion? I thought we had a connection, but obviously I was wrong.”

She shook her head. “No, we did.”

“Now that I think about it, there were clues. Lots of little clues that I missed.” He stabbed a hand through his disheveled hair. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you were a cop. You always had the right words, the right angle on what to look for. You even thought like a criminal. You’re good, I’ll say that.”

“I couldn’t turn off my brain.” She glanced at everything but him.

“Is there anything else you’ve lied about?”

“My dad’s a cop too.”

“Oh, wonderful. So the whole goddamn family is a bunch of liars. I bet you’re not even a student at Braham, are you?”

“No, but I do have an undergraduate degree in statistical analysis and a masters in criminology.”

Tears streamed down her cheek, but he figured they were as fake as she was.

“And what about us? Did you fake your attraction to me? Was there some underlying reason why you wanted to lure me into your web of seduction?”

Her watery eyes brightened. “Our relationship was real.” She swiped a hand across her eyes. “I love you.”

“I’m supposed to believe that because?”

When Jenna didn’t answer, he stomped into the bedroom, tossed his clothes in a suitcase and returned ten minutes later. He wouldn’t be a sucker for those three little words again. Tammy had told him the same thing before she ran off with someone else. She wanted his research. That’s all. Look what her little lie had cost him.

Jenna remained at the table, looking off into space. He refused to let guilt overshadow his anger. Of course, he wanted to comfort her, but his heart might stop beating if he did.

“Hope you have a good life.” He slammed the front door behind him.

Jenna stared at the door. Would he come back and say he really loved her, and that he was sorry he’d become so angry?

No, she’d hurt him. Deeply. She deserved this. Lies were always bad.

Her throat clogged with tears. Jenna had tried to tell him that first day about being a cop when his windshield had been broken, but he’d accused her of destroying his property and wouldn’t listen. Dummy. She should have taken the hint and left right then, but did she? No. Not her. Being brilliant, how he held himself, and the kindness he showed his coworkers spoke to her. Of course, being hot didn’t hurt either.

Jenna dropped her head in her hands, her grief unbearable. Should she run after him and say she hadn’t confessed because her life was at stake? It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t believe anything she ever said to him again. She trusted Sam with her life, so why hadn’t she told him a while ago? Because his damn moral compass would have booted her ass weeks ago, and she wanted to stay wrapped in his arms for as long as possible.

Until this case closed, she’d vowed silence about who she was. Her job meant the world to her, but had it been worth losing the one man who made her body sing, the one man who taught her to realize how wonderful life could be, who made life worth living?

No.

Jenna shoved back her chair and poured herself a glass of wine. Wine for God’s sake. She didn’t even like wine. It was Sam who was crazy about it. He’d bought a few different bottles for her to taste.

She poured a glass, hoping to somehow feel closer to him, have his essence near her. Maybe he left something of his in the bathroom that she could hold and remember him by. When she stepped into the bathroom, the counter top was bare of his shaving cream, his toothbrush, and his razor. The finality of his absence slapped her in the face. The towel he’d used to shower hung over the rod. She brought the terrycloth to her nose and inhaled his scent. Jenna hiccupped. Stupid job.

Shuffling her feet, she meandered into the office hoping to find something he’d left there, something that would give her an excuse to return to him, to see him one more time, but the office too exuded emptiness. She pawed through the drawers, hoping he’d left a shirt, a pair of pants, anything, but she found nothing. He was gone. For good.

A headache pounded against her skull, but she took another sip of wine hoping for oblivion. Her body teetered as her energy took a nosedive. She needed a nap to give her a new prospective.

She lay down on her soft, unmade bed, still remembering their last lovemaking. The sheets held his scent. She swiped the tears from her checks and forced the image of sexy Sam from her mind as she drifted off to sleep.

When she awoke, darkness had infiltrated her house. Fumbling for the light switch, she took a long, hot shower hoping the pain of Sam’s desertion would lesson, but it didn’t work.

She slipped into her pajamas and padded into the kitchen for something to eat. A quick glance at the answering machine in the hopes she’d missed a call from him only brought a renewed rush of depression when the light remained unlit.

The book she tried to read didn’t interest her either, as the characters appeared flat, the plot dull. Her only option was television, something she rarely had time to watch anymore.

She sat through back-to-back episodes of NCIS, but even the hot operatives didn’t boost her mood. After swallowing a sleeping pill the hospital had given her, she snuck back into bed praying oblivion would come soon.

Jenna awoke with a killer hangover. She never should have that last glass of wine, but then again, she shouldn’t have waited so long to tell Sam about her undercover work.

She shrugged into her uniform, only to remember she had to pick up her order from the cleaners. The damned cleaners, the ones who had hastened her loss from Sam. Combing her hair instead of dumping on a half bottle of gel to tame it, she glanced at the mirror. Oh, man. She’d aged ten years since this undercover job had begun. Whatever. What was done was done.

Her life was right back where it was before her mom’s skull was stolen. Even with the unknown man dead, she was no closer to finding her mom’s remains. Perhaps Larry or Marlon had some news.

Jenna reported to the station on time for a change—early, in fact. Larry wasn’t at his desk, but Marlon was there, drinking a cup of hot java. The strong aroma reminded her she hadn’t had her caffeine fix for the day.

He tossed a folder on his desk, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

“You snoozing already?” Jenna tried to keep her tone light, but he jackknifed up.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

“You not sleeping much?”

“No. I spent most of last night with your dad.”

Guilt swept over her. She should have stopped by, but with Sam leaving, she couldn’t bring herself to visit. “How is he?”

“He’s getting cranky.”

She smiled. He might have been a jerk all those years ago, but he hadn’t caused her mom to kill herself. For that she was thankful. Trusting him again and even forgiving him would take time.

“Any news?”

“On the dead guy?”

“No, on the weather,” she shot back.

“HOPEFAL’s got him. We did run his prints, but nothing came up.”

Jenna craned her neck around the corner of the office. “I see Larry’s not in yet. I’m guessing no news on where those kids put the skulls.”

“None that I heard.”

He was no help. “I’m surprised the captain has you working giving the shooting.”

“Until I see the shrink, I’m on desk duty.” He shrugged.

“Well, thanks again for saving my life.”

He smiled. “Does that mean you owe me one?”

She’d been about to say, no, but without Sam, her life held little appeal. “Sure. Maybe dinner next week?”

Something sparked in his eye that she couldn’t decipher. Maybe he had a major crush on her, and here she thought all they had was an occasional release session in bed. Nothing like what she and Sam have. Or rather had.

“Sure.”

Not wanting more conversation, she trudged off, grabbed some coffee from the break room and settled down at her desk. About an hour later, after many of her coworkers came to congratulate her on escaping the serial killer, the captain stopped by.

“Jenna, can I speak with you in my office?”

Oh boy. Could she be in trouble so soon? Like a puppy dog, she followed him. “Yes, sir?”

“Have a seat.” This didn’t sound good. “I want you to take some time off.”

No way. She’d go crazy with nothing to do but think about Sam. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather stay at work.”

“You need to see the psychologist and rest. Not only did someone try to kill you, you shot someone. Maybe you should spend time with your father.”

“But—”

“That’s an order, not a suggestion.”

Shit. “Yes, sir.” How was she going to find her mother’s remains if couldn’t access the databases. Do lots and lots of legwork she supposed.

She rushed out, past Derek Wolfe and the rest of the homicide crew, not ready to talk to any shrink. She glanced to where Greg, the partner she’d abandoned resided, but even he wasn’t there for support. She didn’t mind going over the capture one more time, but her anger over Sam’s leaving would surely come up and the subject cut her too deep.

On her way out, Jenna grabbed some folders from her desk, needing to keep herself busy. Given she had the keys to the TPD’s loaner car, she took advantage of the situation. Before she chickened out, she shot down Florida Avenue and jumped on the Interstate, toward Braham University.