Forgotten Sins (Sin Brothers, #1)(22)

Josie’s legs froze in place.

Her eyes stared back at her from a picture on the wall. The moment captured her smiling brightly into the sun, a daiquiri in her hand. She glanced at the next picture, taken of her at a baseball game. Several more pictures of her adorned the walls. Pictures of her coming home after work. Of going to the gym. Of gardening outside her home. Months’ worth. All tacked up next to a sprawl of surveillance equipment.

Shane growled, hurrying toward the equipment. “What the hell?”

Josie frowned. Her wedding picture caught her eye. The official one in the stunning silver frame. The one she’d left for him at his base when she’d moved to Washington. Just in case he wanted the memories. It sat on the end table. She looked closer at some of the pictures. Her hair was shorter. Lighter. Some of the pictures were from California. From before she’d met Shane. From three, maybe four years ago.

She stumbled back a step.

An empty Guinness bottle sat on the counter.

Guinness.

The picture.

With a soft cry, she ran for the bedroom. The scent of heated cedar filled her nostrils. The bed with its navy comforter made, the corners tucked. Shaky steps brought her to the small dresser in the corner. She pulled out the first drawer. Socks. Perfectly folded, in order of color. Just the way Shane organized them. His sole concession to being a soldier, to allowing himself one quirk.

She grabbed a discarded shirt off the floor and brought the material to her nose. Shane’s masculine scent filled her nostrils. Her fingers fisted in the material as she slowly turned around.

He overpowered the doorway. She took a step back, straightening her shoulders. There’d be no crying.

He frowned, glancing at the shirt. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She threw the shirt down, hiding the faded Marine Corps logo. Panic threatened to stop her breathing. What should she do? He’d lied to her—he’d stalked her. Even before they met, he’d watched her. Betrayal coated her throat until she wanted to choke. She’d trusted him. Anger wanted to roar, but self-preservation won. She couldn’t beat him, and she had one chance to get free. So she forced herself to shrug and walk toward him. “I just don’t like breaking and entering.” Her voice trembled. “Can we leave now?”

She brushed past him toward the door.

His hand shot out and grabbed her arm. Dark pupils narrowed and zeroed in on her. Questioning. “Not yet. I need to check more of the equipment.”

She was no victim. Her smile hurt as she swung around to face him. “Okay.” The urge to run shot her into full action. She bunched, and with every ounce of strength she owned, she kneed him in the nuts.

His eyes widened in shock.

He dropped to the floor with a muffled oomph, both hands clutching his groin.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. Her hands shook and she scrambled for the next move. Pivoting, she shot a sidekick to his temple and knocked him over.

She yelped as she turned and ran.

Glass cut her arm as she jumped out the sliding door, leaping through the open gate of the fence. A rustle sounded behind her. She cut across the front lawn, yelling for Detective Malloy. The detective looked up from her porch, a frown on his face. She ran as if the devil himself chased her, her steps pounding on the asphalt.

“Damn it, Josie. Stop!” Shane yelled.

She pushed harder. Who the hell was Shane Dean? She reached Malloy in a rush, all but tumbling into his arms. He steadied her.

Turning, she held her breath at what she’d see. Nothing. A dark, quiet street.

Shane was gone.





Chapter 7

Police station coffee sucked. Josie huddled over the Styrofoam cup, her finger probing the bite marks she’d left in the spongy top. How could she have been so wrong? But really, what had she ever known about Shane? Some of those pictures had been from before she’d even met him. Had he been stalking her? If so, why leave her for two years? He’d had her.

What kind of a crazy game had he been playing?

The heat snapped on in the small room, but it failed to penetrate her chilled skin.

Detective Malloy sat across the battered table of the interview room, the dark circles beneath his eyes widening as the day wore on. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Dean.” He tapped a photograph of her leaving a gym in California holding a rolled up yoga mat under her arm. “Since you’re ready to continue, let’s look at a few more photographs my men brought from the cottage where your husband apparently has been staying. Do you remember this picture?”

Considering she hadn’t realized the snapshot was being taken, no. “I haven’t seen this picture before.” She fought a shiver at the creepy fact that she’d been photographed without her knowledge. “Though I hadn’t met Shane when this shot was taken.”

“Are you sure?” Malloy’s gaze sharpened.

“Yes. My California yoga instructor opened her own place across town, and I followed her. I stopped going to this location at least a month before I met Shane.” She’d keep using his name. No way would she refer to Shane Dean as her husband. Never again.

Malloy scribbled in a notebook, sliding another photograph in front of her. “Your hair is longer in this one.”

“Yes.” Josie stared for a moment. The shot had captured her leaving her office building in California dressed in her favorite green silk suit. “This was taken even before the yoga one. I cut my hair shortly after this picture, I think.” Fear made her breath arrive in short bursts.