Trigger took a breath and a minute before he made the call to Deputy Mark Foster. This one call opened up the can of worms Ashley wanted to keep sealed. As much as he’d like to keep her and Adam hidden away here cocooned in safety, he needed to stop the madman who wanted them back from getting close to them ever again. Trigger couldn’t afford to hold on to hope that they had any more time before Brice started looking for them close to home or worse, went to the press and spun some story that ruined Ashley’s life even more. He couldn’t risk that bastard getting his hands on Adam. Trigger still didn’t know if the boy had family looking for him or were unaware the boy was seemingly on his own with only Ashley and him as protector and caregiver.

He needed to call in the troops, but he didn’t like it. Could he trust anyone? He assumed everyone was under Brice’s thumb.

If he was honest, he didn’t want the sheriff’s department and possibly the FBI swooping in, taking over, and taking Ashley and Adam away from him. He didn’t know how they managed it, but in a short time, he’d gotten used to them being here with him. The house didn’t seem so big and empty anymore. A beautiful woman in his bed made him think of things he shouldn’t. It got harder and harder to see Ashley as just a woman who needed help and not a woman he wanted.

After all she’d been through, she wasn’t someone who needed or wanted something casual. If she wanted him at all. The way she looked at him sometimes . . . He shut that line of thinking down and ordered himself to get to work.

Trigger picked up his cell and dialed the number Sadie gave him.

“Who is this?” Deputy Foster demanded to know.

“You first,” Trigger answered, wanting to be sure he got the right guy. Plus, he didn’t much want to say who he was to the wrong person.

“This is a private number. I don’t know you, or how you got this number, but—”

“Sadie Kendrick,” Trigger interrupted.

“Then she gave you my number for a reason.”

Trigger gave him a hint. “I’m the guy she saved during the drug bust that took down her brother Connor.”

Silence. Then, “What do you want?”

Trigger had been arrested along with Connor during the takedown to make it look like he was one of the other drug traffickers. Appearances had to be maintained even if Connor’s friends and the guys he took down thought he was really working undercover. The game had to be played. These days, Trigger hated the game, but he was damn good at playing it.

“I need to know if you’re a guy who can be trusted.”

“Sadie trusted me enough to give you my number even though I arrested her brother more than once and threatened to put her ass in jail along with him if she helped him again. Other than that, I can only give you my word that if you ask me to keep a lid on something I will, so long as it’s this side of legal.”

“Will you ride the line if it will keep someone safe and alive?”

“I will venture into the shadows, but if things get too shady I’ll fall back on the book and play things straight.”

Exactly what Trigger needed. An ally working the case. “Fair enough. Here’s the deal. I’m not a drug dealer. I’m undercover DEA. Special Agent Beck Cooke. I need you to open a Jane Doe kidnap report. The woman has been held against her will for nearly a year. She’s been repeatedly starved and tortured. I found her and a child who doesn’t belong to her or the kidnapper. I want the boy kept quiet for now. I need to figure out who he is and how he’s connected to the kidnapper. If he is at all.”

“Where are they now?”

“Safe.”

Deputy Foster would probably guess he had them at his place, but Trigger didn’t want to say outright. Deputy Foster could read between the lines that Trigger wanted to keep some information confidential for now. Like not giving him Ashley’s name.

“Does Jane Doe need medical attention?”

“Yes, but that can wait until the storm passes. I’ve got her and the boy squared away. I’ve got pictures of her and the boy’s injuries.” Trigger hated it, but he’d snapped a few photos of Adam while he slept. He didn’t want to put the kid through the ordeal the way he’d done with Ashley. The less intrusive and probing he could be with Adam, the better for the kid to move forward and forget any of this ever happened. Ashley didn’t have the luxury of being a four-year-old with a mind that would fade these memories until he either didn’t remember at all, or the things he did remember felt like they’d happened to someone else.

“She will need X-rays to show her current and past cracked and broken bones for evidence. Later, we’ll order her past medical records for comparison and corroboration that the injuries were sustained during her captivity.” That word left a bitter taste in his mouth. He tried not to let the images of her condition now turn into a dark story in his mind that spun out of control with one scenario after another of what she’d been through.

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse.” Broken bones healed. Mentally, Ashley would never be the same again. Even now, she slept, but her body shook with whatever nightmare plagued her. She mumbled and whimpered. Her pain and anguish twisted his gut. He wanted to pick her up off the damn floor, hold her in his arms, and find a way to make it all go away. He understood those dark dreams’ effect on the mind, the way they lingered even when you woke, the way they tormented when you let your guard down and couldn’t hold them off in sleep. The way they sapped your energy and will to do anything, like if you sat still long enough everything would finally stop. But it doesn’t. Your mind won’t rest and your body twists into a mass of tension that coils tighter, suffocating you.

“I’ll need to talk to her, get all the facts so we can make an arrest.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Not simple as in high-profile suspect or victim?”

“Both.”

“That explains Jane Doe, but we need to get this guy in custody before he hurts someone else or finds her and the child or skips on us.”

“The storm is helping me with that. Now I need to set things up so we play this smart and things fall in her corner and not his.”

“We can put her in protective custody.”

“I want to avoid taking a woman from one prison to another. Right now, she’s coping. I’m not sure how she’ll deal once word gets out and the investigation heats up.”

“What the hell do you want me to investigate?”

Trigger understood the deputy’s frustration. He’d asked for help and tied Deputy Foster’s hands at the same time.

“Open the case. Send me the case file. I’ll fill it out and take her statement. We’ll get it on record before this guy comes forward with his own version of events. And he will. I’ll send back the report, then we’ll move forward with you arresting him. This guy has the goods on some high-up people in power.” Beck didn’t think Brice targeted a sergeant in the sheriff’s department. “Someone like that tries to shut you down I want to know about it.”

“Shit. Okay. Give me your email.”

Trigger rattled off the information.

Ashley screamed and startled herself awake. She sat bolt upright and stared right at him. The second her eyes locked with his, she relaxed and took a painful breath. He didn’t want to read too much into her immediate relief at seeing him, but damn, the connection he tried to ignore flared in his chest. He gave her a nod to let her know everything was all right. He wanted to do a hell of a lot more than give her a look. His need to touch and comfort her nearly made him stand and go over to her. Instead, Adam jumped off the couch and went to her, sitting in her lap and hugging her close. Ashley held the little boy, though it probably cost her to have his weight on her bruised legs and leaning into her battered body.

“What the hell was that?” Deputy Foster asked, overhearing Ashley’s scream.

“Nothing.” His deadpan response made it clear he had no intention of explaining. “I’ve got to go. Send the report. I’ll get back to you, and we’ll figure out the best way to move forward. And I mean it, keep this quiet.” The longer he kept the secret, before the powers that be found out, the better.

“Beck.”

He looked up at her beautiful face and still-haunted eyes. He held his finger to his lips to ensure she didn’t say anything else.

“Holy fuck, is that Ashley Swan? I’d know that sultry voice anywhere.”

Beck swore and glared at Ashley. People recognized more than her face. It was like hearing Anthony Hopkins, Liam Neeson, or Morgan Freeman. You just knew that voice.

“One word leaks out, I’ll know who did it, and that person won’t see the light of day again.”

The deadly tone got through to Deputy Foster. “Dial down the threats, man. I’m on your side.”

“I don’t threaten people—I make promises. Now get to work. We need to move fast.”

“On it.”

Trigger hung up and stared at Ashley’s confused eyes.

“Who was that?”

“When I’m on the phone, you stay quiet. Unless you want the world to know you’re alive and staying here.”

“Did you tell someone?”

“No, you did with just my name.”

Her eyes went wide and her hand covered her open mouth. “I have to go.” She took one step back before he snagged her wrist and pulled her to a stop.

“Relax. He won’t tell anyone. Deputy Foster is about to make a preemptive strike by opening a case file on you.”

“With my name. It’ll be out”—she looked at his phone, then back at him—“now.”

“Can you do two things for me?”

“What?” Her voice trembled on that one word.

“Breathe. And trust me.”

She sucked in a steadying breath, her eyes narrowed and filled with concern. “I’m trying.”

“Hungry?” Trigger read more in her soft touch on his arm than he did in her eyes. He released her wrist, not wanting to make her feel trapped. He definitely didn’t want her to think anything else was going on.

But Ashley didn’t let go of him. Instead, her gaze dipped to his arm and the tattoos weaving their way up under his sleeve to his shoulder. “This is really interesting.” Her fingers smoothed over his skin. Electricity shot up his arm, making everything in him still. “The two sides of you.”

Trigger glanced at the intricate tattoo with the sharp-edged green vine and single red rose in bloom with the skull in the center. “How so?”

“Lethal and fighting for life.”

That got his attention. His heart beat faster. “I just thought it was cool.”

She didn’t believe him. “You thought the skull would warn people away. You like to do that.”

“It keeps me, and them, alive.”

“Yet you left one side of the leaves soft.” She traced her finger over the rounded edge of one of the leaves on his forearm.

He tried not to tense at her touch, or feel the warmth spreading up his arm and into every cold, dark corner inside him, or acknowledge the way his heart beat faster with every brush of her skin against his.

“The other side is razor sharp. Another warning that if you get too close you’ll get cut down. But the rose . . .”

Drawn in by that voice and her insight, he reluctantly asked, “What about it?”

“A red rose. A symbol of beauty and love.”

“It blooms with death,” he pointed out.

“You too often see the bad in what appears on the surface as benign. But you spend your life trying to erase the malevolent so beauty and love can bloom. You take death off the streets.” She touched her finger to several of the leaves weaving up his arm. She tapped another wicked leaf. “As each new threat appears, you follow the path and take that one out. No matter how hard you try, that vine of death keeps spreading.” She traced one stem until it came to a sharp end on his bicep. “It spreads until you cut it off.” She held his gaze. “You’ll keep hacking at it, knowing it will continue to grow and the best you can do is slow it down because others feed it and all you want to do is choke it.” She spread her fingers wide over his forearm like the vine wrapped around him and squeezed.

“You see a hell of a lot in a simple tattoo.” She saw too much on him and inside him.

“There’s nothing simple about you. Beck.” She emphasized his name, reminding him of how she’d repeated to herself, I am Ashley. A way to remember who she was at the core.

He had yet to dig deep enough to find Beck under Trigger’s mound of shit.

“I see you, Beck. You can’t hide from me beneath Trigger. He’s a character you play, a defense against the world you infiltrate but don’t belong to. The role has gotten harder to shed. You’ve played him so long he’s become comfortable. Maybe it’s easier to stay Trigger than be Beck. He’s the bad guy who did all those things you can’t reconcile. Beck’s the good guy who suffers the consequences. You’ve lost touch with him while you punish yourself for whatever is eating you up inside.”

Unable to go there, he denied, denied, denied. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You know I do, but you don’t want to hear it.” Her hand slid down his arm to his hand. She traced her fingers over the back and gripped it in hers. “You saved me, Beck. I’m just trying to repay you. You took this break, this time to get your head straight again, but how can you do that when every time you look in the mirror you see Trigger.” She tilted her head and stared right at him. “The best way to get into character for me is putting on the costume. The hair. The makeup. The clothes. I fall into the part. I look in the mirror and see the person I’m playing.” She reached out and took some of his long hair between her fingertips. “You needed to play the part, so you transformed yourself into Trigger. Maybe if you transform yourself into Beck again, you’ll remember that he’s who you really are and you’ll feel like him again.”

He raked his fingers through his long hair. He really was tired of it. Sometimes he caught his reflection and wondered who the hell that thug was staring back at him.

“What do I know? I could barely remember my own name when you found me and I’ve made a living, won an Oscar, and saved my life pretending to be someone else.”

She walked away.

Damn the woman for knowing exactly what to say and daring him to look long and hard at his life and decide if he wanted to continue to wallow in self-pity, regret, and recriminations for what he’d done, or remember why he’d done those things and that forgiving himself meant accepting responsibility and choosing to move on with his life.

He didn’t need to decide what Trigger was going to do. He needed to figure out what he was going to do, because Beck was a DEA agent and the man he’d worked damn hard to be, pushing himself through school with top grades, applying to the DEA, making it through the rigorous training and qualifiers to become one of the best. He worked undercover because his superiors trusted him to do the job with integrity. He never meant for anyone to get hurt. He’d have given his life to save Paula.

Mistakes were made. Things happened beyond his control. He needed to stop thinking of all the bad that happened and remember he did important work. He made a difference hacking away at the drug distribution chain. He put bad people behind bars. He took dangerous drugs off the streets. He’d saved countless lives.

That mattered.

What he did mattered.

Who he was mattered.

Maybe he couldn’t go back to working undercover. Not now. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t still make a difference in people’s lives.

He’d made a difference in Ashley’s. And Adam’s.

He picked up his phone and got back to work. “Hey, it’s Beck.”

Ashley stared at him over the glass of milk she chugged. She pulled the glass away from her lips and smiled at him with an adorable milk mustache.

One side of his mouth cocked up in a half grin he couldn’t stop. He nodded, giving her that small acknowledgment that she’d indeed nudged him enough to make a change in him, but not to gloat.

Caden, on the other hand, remained silent on the line, taken by surprise that he’d used his real name. Caden knew from caller ID that he’d called, but Beck wanted to let him know in this way that something was different now. Beck was different, because of the woman standing in his kitchen, wearing his T-shirt and way-too-big sweats, devouring yet another apple. She shouldn’t look that damn sexy, but she did. He didn’t know how she did it, or how she’d so easily worked her way under his skin, but damn the woman had really gotten to him.

“Hey, man, I’ve got a problem. I’m nearly out of clothes. Ashley looks ridiculous walking around holding up her pants so they don’t drop to her ankles and trip her.”

“Uh, are you okay?” Caden asked, surprised by Beck’s teasing tone.

“I’m good.” For the first time in a long time, he meant that. The tension in his shoulders eased. The constricting band around his chest let loose. He breathed easier and actually felt comfortable in his skin. For the most part. The outside needed a little work. He’d get to it soon. “Snow’s letting up. Forecast calls for clearer skies tomorrow. Where are you on getting the supplies I need?”

Since Caden and Mia lived closer to town, where the snowplows worked a hell of a lot faster than out here, and they got a lot less snow than he did, he hoped they’d been able to get some of the shopping done.

“I checked—the snowplows are out and clearing the roads and headed your way. We’ve got the truck packed and ready to go. Any last-minute things you need?”

“Were you able to get all the food, multivitamins, and supplements?” Beck had looked up everything he could about malnutrition and boosting your immune system. The last thing he wanted was for Adam and Ashley to get sick in their weakened conditions. While their energy levels increased with the sleep and food they’d gotten over the last two days, they still had a long way to go to good health. When he took them to a doctor, Beck would make sure to ask what else they needed. For now, he’d do his best to give them the best he could provide.

“Everything on your list, or as close to it as I could get.”

Ashley stood over him, her brows drawn together. She mouthed, “Who is that?”

“Hold on, Caden.” Beck held the phone away, his thumb over the microphone so Caden didn’t hear them. “It’s my brother. He’s DEA, so he’ll keep his mouth shut. He’s bringing us supplies, including new clothes for you and Adam and more food, since you’re eating me out of house and home,” he teased.

She stuck her tongue out, then took another big bite of her apple.

“Is there anything you want?”

She tugged her pants up again before they fell down her hips. He could barely make out her shape under his too-big clothes draped over her thin frame. She scrunched her lips into a thoughtful pout. The hand holding the apple shook. “I can call my manager or my bank and get them to overnight me a new credit card. I can order what I need online.” She glanced around the room, unease building in her fidgety body and worried eyes. “I can find us a place to stay. We’ll need a car. I don’t even know if I still have my place in L.A. What happened to all my stuff? Is everything just frozen in time?” Her whole body shook now. Her voice grew quiet and shaky. “You’ve done so much. We’ve stayed too long. I’ll just . . .” Overwhelmed, she didn’t know what to do.

Beck stood and wrapped her in his arms. “Shh. Stop. You don’t have to do anything but tell me if there is anything you need right now. We’ll figure out the rest soon.”

She burrowed into his chest and held tight to the back of his shirt with one hand. She sighed so big he felt the warmth of her breath penetrate the cotton T and seep into his skin.

“I need to know what to do and how to make this right. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I mean, there’s no rules or guidelines to follow when someone steals a year of your life.”

Beck held Ashley and put the phone back to his ear and told Caden, “Come as soon as you can. Bring what you have. If we need anything else, we’ll get it later.” He hung up, dropped the phone on the table, and encased Ashley in both his arms.

Beck leaned down and kissed the top of Ashley’s head for no other reason than that he wanted to comfort her. “You don’t have to do anything right now, except breathe. You want to control how this plays out. I get that. He took away your choices and forced you to bend to his will. This investigation and making this right means others are going to make decisions that affect your life. It will take on a life of its own. You want to find your footing and take control of your life again, but you’re going to have to fight for it. Let me handle the investigation part. You concentrate on getting healthy again. Take a breath, find your head, and think about what you want for your future.

“In the meantime, you can stay here as long as you want and as long as it’s safe.” Until he said it, he didn’t realize how much he meant it. He didn’t want her out of his sight until he knew 200 percent that she was safe. The longer she stood in his arms, the more right it felt, the more he didn’t want to let her go. Dangerous territory. She didn’t belong here. She had a life in L.A. Friends. Family.

The thought of someone waiting for her, missing her, wanting her back sent a bolt of jealousy through his gut, but he asked the hard question anyway. “Is there anyone you want to call? There must be a lot of worried people out there who want to hear from you.”

She stepped out of his arms, anger flaring in her eyes. “Is there a missing person’s report on me?”

“I’m not sure.” He’d seen the reports on TV, but he hadn’t seen a single cop asking for information about her disappearance.

“Has anyone been on TV or in other news holding up a picture of me with a number to call, asking for information on my whereabouts?”

“Uh, not that I’ve seen, but that doesn’t mean—”

“Right. People don’t think things apply to you when you’re famous. There is no such thing as privacy and personal space. Nothing in your life is off-limits. People think you asked for it when someone does something to you that they’d never do to a normal person. They think they can insult me to my face and it doesn’t bother me. ‘You’re so much prettier on-screen.’ ‘Is that really your voice? You sound so much better on TV.’ ‘I thought you’d be taller or thinner,’ or ‘I thought your boobs were bigger.’”

“Seriously?”

“They say all kinds of stupid things. They put you on lists. Best Dressed. Worst Dressed. Sexiest. Most Beautiful. Who wore it best? As if there isn’t enough judgment in the world.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to have a genuine friend? A guy who’s interested in you and not who you can connect him to in the business or just wants to be seen with you to advance his own agenda?” She rolled her eyes.

He didn’t want any part of that kind of life and understood she wanted to stay as far away from it as possible right now. “So you don’t want to go back to L.A.?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love acting and making movies. Everything else, not so much. But you can’t have your passion and not accept that all the rest comes with it. I have—had—a good team of people around me, but I am always aware they’re paid to be there. Maybe I’m more aware of it because of the way I grew up having to fight for everything I wanted. My mother raised me on her own. She didn’t have time or the desire to give me anything more than a roof over my head, food on the table, and the necessities of life. She lived her life. I lived mine. I wasn’t abused or neglected, but I didn’t get a lot of support either. I was expected to go to school and stay out of trouble. Anything else I wanted, I had to figure out a way to get it. My life wasn’t good or bad, it just was, and that wasn’t enough for me. The more I wanted, the more my mother resented that I didn’t appreciate what she gave me. She was satisfied with her ordinary life. I wanted a big life. She didn’t get that, until I achieved something she never thought I would. She expected me to fail like so many other dreamers do, but I worked hard. I didn’t take the setbacks as defeat. I used those experiences to feed my ambition.

“The more success I achieved, the more she wanted to benefit from it. Our relationship was never warm, but I wanted it to be despite understanding she just didn’t have it in her. But to watch it deteriorate to the point where I no longer felt like family but a means to an end . . .” Ashley frowned and shook her head. “With success, you gain so much, but you never expect to lose the things you do. It’s very lonely at the top.”

Beck sympathized and opened his mouth without thinking. “It’s lonely undercover. To have success, you give up everything to become something else. The relationships you have are all superficial. You’re using them. They’re using you. In the end, you’ll take down a guy who’s been your friend, maybe even saved your ass, because he’s breaking the law.”

“I bet you never thought you’d have so much in common with someone like me.”

In fact, he’d seen the reports on TV and thought some spoiled, self-centered movie star didn’t deserve his consideration. He had more important things to think and care about than a woman who’d run away from her glamorous life. Ashley changed his mind. He appreciated her strength, determination, her thoughtfulness to consider him and see that he was hurting, too, when she had every reason to focus on herself and what she’d been through. For whatever reason, she’d gotten through to him when his family and coworkers hadn’t made a dent in his determination to remain locked in his head, mired in his regret and guilt, and living alone in exile. The woman he’d found nearly dead had breathed new life into him.

He still had a ways to go in reconciling his past, but he actually felt better about his future. One where he moved forward and didn’t stay mired in his nightmares. He could finally see the light.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ashley. I needed you.” Not an easy thing for him to admit, but he’d told so many lies, he liked that she forced him to own up to the truth.

“This from the guy who warned me away.”

“Be careful,” he warned her again, letting her in even more. “I’m having trouble thinking about letting you go.”