After packing their luggage, they drove to Pine Paradise Cabins. Quinn’s stomach churned with anxiety. Maybe regaining her memory wasn’t such a terrific idea.
She might discover things about herself she didn’t like. Or her mysterious sister, Demi.
As the truck bumped and bounced over the gravel road, Quinn recalled another memory. A car with springs that squeaked and balding tires. Her mother always scrimping and scraping together enough money for them to live. Never enough for extras, like new clothing for school or toys. Quinn once thought her middle name was Secondhand.
He turned onto a steep gravel road barred by a yellow steel gate. The gate was padlocked.
After putting the truck into Park, he turned to her. “Rex and I are doing a quick sweep of the property, and then I’ll drive up to the cabin you stayed at with Demi. Stay here.”
While they were inspecting the area, Quinn thought about West and all he’d done for her, and the fierce passion of his lovemaking.
West taking time to help her remember struck her as something very sweet and unselfish.
He returned fifteen minutes later and unlocked the gate. Quinn took a deep breath as he let Rex into the back seat and then climbed back into the truck. “West, I’m scared.”
He turned, leather creaking beneath his jeans. “Why, honey?”
“What if I remember something nasty? Something that will make you think less of me?” She bit her lip. “Make me think less of myself? Not having any recollection of my past feels horrid, but in a way, it’s a clean slate. I can re-create myself.”
Long dark lashes swept down as he gazed at his scarred hand. “I understand. And I get that you’re scared. I’m scared, as well. I’m terrified that you won’t remember anything about us, and I’ll lose you.”
Her heart turned over. “You want to keep me? Battered and bruises and all.”
No smile. “You’re the best damn thing that ever happened to me, Quinn. Before I met you, I seldom smiled. Hardly ever laughed. You make life outside the job worth living again.”
Mouth wobbling, she reached over and touched his arm. “Thank you. I had started to think I was a hot mess and always would be. If you aren’t my future husband, I almost wish you were.”
That earned her a quiet smile. “I’m glad you said that,” he murmured.
When they drove through the gate, up the gravel road, she stared at the cabins peppering the roadside. Rough-hewn, with purple and pink petunias in flower boxes at each window, but nothing looked familiar.
They arrived at cabin seven. Narrow porch, one story. Dark wood, green shutters. He took the key, jingled them in his hand as they got out of the truck.
“I looked for the key you said you had, couldn’t find it, so I got this key from Tia’s brother. I need to check out the cabin first, Quinn. Just in case.”
In case there is a threat. She read it in his eyes.
West opened the glove box, withdrew a revolver. He handed it to her. “I know you hate guns, but if you get scared or see something fishy, fire it. I’ll come running.”
Quinn touched her purse, where her Taser rested. “I can use the Taser.” She picked up the weapon gingerly. “I don’t remember how to shoot.”
He showed her the safety and how to click it off. “Just point and fire. Except try not to aim it at me.” A crooked, sexy grin. “You never did learn how to shoot, hon, so that’s not something you forgot.”
Quinn watched him whistle to Rex. “Rex, find!”
It was fascinating to watch him work. She suspected she’d never seen this part of Agent West Brand. Driven and focused, concentrating on searching the perimeter of the cabin and the roadside, his brown eyes hard and purposeful.
A few minutes later, he returned, locked the revolver in the glove box. Then West held out his hand. “All clear.”
“Good to know.” She let him help her out of the truck. West grabbed a flashlight from the glove box.
The gun at his lean hip assured her she’d be well protected.
Rex bounded out of the truck, loped up the porch steps.
“Tia’s relatives said the power was turned off about a month ago. That was the time around when she was supposed to sell the property and she would have closed the account so the new owner could open his own,” West told her.
Using his key, he opened the door.
“Take your time,” he told her in his deep, soothing voice.
Quinn walked around the living room. The stone fireplace was cold, no evidence of the fire that once crackled there merrily. Rug mats were strewed about the pine floor, and the sofa was brown. Her memory flickered. A redheaded woman, sitting on the couch, making a face.
“Puke green. The sofa here was green. We called it puke green,” she told him. “It was like pea soup.”
West didn’t pepper her with questions or say anything. He simply waited.
“I know this place.” Quinn frowned, trying to remember. “I came here once, a long time ago. Isn’t it odd how I can remember things in spurts?”
“The doctor said that’s normal. It will return to you,” he assured her. “Who was with you?”
She pressed a hand to her temple, thinking. “Demi.”
She closed her eyes, inhaling the stale air, exhaling the memories.
Quinn had been in this very cabin, or at least this area, with Demi Colton. One night with the sister she’d longed to connect with, longed to befriend, but had never really known.
Demi had collared a felon who skipped bail, but the case had turned ugly. Demi had needed a place to retreat, get away from the ugly side of life. Quinn had booked this cabin for a short vacation, invited Demi. Just the two of them, trying to forge bonds they’d never had growing up.
Quinn always wanted a sister, the kind you could swap stories with of boys you thought were cute, brush each other’s hair and borrow each other’s clothing. It had been one night where they’d both reached out, tried to make it work.
Quinn had been so eager and Demi cautious. In the end, Demi left early. Demi hadn’t shed her private side, hadn’t wanted to share secrets or swap stories or do any of the things Quinn imagined.
But she had been in this cabin.
West didn’t pressure her, only remained quiet. Quinn was glad of the silence. Too many people had been pounding at her like a jackhammer, trying to get her memory triggered. Finn, with his attention to duty, to find a suspect in Tia’s death. Brayden and Shane.
West hadn’t nagged or prodded. He simply waited, watched, and she sensed he worried about her safety, especially now. Quinn realized it was part of his personality, like a big wolf always on guard against predators wishing to harm the pack.
“She seemed a little secretive. I remember that. I hate secrets,” she muttered. “People keep things from me, like my mom did, trying to hide how broke we were, trying to hide the fact that she was marrying yet another loser so I’d have a stepfather.”
The bedroom had a queen bed and two nightstands. Quinn went into the bedroom, touching the blue-and-green comforter. The cabin had a slightly musty air of disuse, and a pang of sadness struck her.
“What was the deal with this cabin?” she asked West.
“Tia was planning to sell, and the sale fell through and the property was closed.” His fingers rested on the gun’s hilt. “Sale was to the Larson brothers. Two million, but they offered three mil.”
Anxiety pinched her insides. “Too much money. They wanted it badly. Are they suspects?”
A shoulder shrug. “Always are with everything, but there’s no evidence.”
Quinn returned to the living room and peered outside the windows at the surrounding canyon walls, the sweep of pine and oak trees ringing the wood porch. She went outside, touched one of the two wooden rockers. The sound was soothing. Creak, back. Crick, up.
Another memory surfaced. A laughing redhead, rocking back and forth, teasing Quinn about her being the older sister, the first one who would be an old lady rocking in a chair like this, knitting socks for the grandbabies.
“She sat here,” Quinn mused. “Demi. She said I’d be the first to be a grandmother, and she would take advice from me. I told her I’d make sure my grandchildren ate all their vegetables and I would not be a grandmother who spoiled them. Then Demi said I’d probably serve them kale cake instead of chocolate.”
A slight smile tugged her mouth upward, and then it faded. One hand went to her abdomen. “She was pregnant when she vanished.”
West nodded. “Yes.”
“And she went someplace, alone, to have her baby. I can’t bear to think of her being alone, with a baby to care for, no one to help her.”
Throat closing tight, she stared down at the rocker. She knew she and Demi never shared much, but how she wished she could be there for her little sister now. Tears burned the backs of her eyelids. Then she felt two strong arms encircle her waist from behind, and West laid his cheek against her head.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You’ll get your memory back.”
For a moment she rested against him. Maybe she couldn’t remember anything about her relationship with this big, strong man, but he had only been considerate and tender with her since the moment she’d seen him in the hospital.
Quinn pulled away to face him. “Why is it so important that I remember being here with Demi?”
Gaze steady, he studied her. “Any memory you regain is helpful. This property is central to the bombing investigation. The Larson brothers itched to purchase this property. They wanted it for something, and it didn’t have to do with planting pansies or relaxing on porch rockers.”
If being in this cabin helped kick-start her memory, then she’d comb through every square inch. Quinn returned inside to the bedroom.
The king-size bed was neatly made, the room spotless, though the musty air of disuse lingered. West pulled open the closet door.
He went very still and very quiet.
Quinn peered into the closet. A sleeping bag, stashed in the corner, along with a packet of disposable diapers, a box of energy bars and a battery-operated lantern.
But that was not what caught West’s attention. He took a leather jacket off a hanger and turned, the jacket dangling from two fingers.
His expression turned grim.
“Quinn, you want to tell me about this?” West’s voice deepened. “You told me this jacket was hanging in your closet. Then why is Demi’s motorcycle jacket here?”