Deceived (Unlikely Heroes Book 3) Page 4

  As soon as she was released, he’d transport her to the jail for fingerprinting. If she didn’t have any warrants, he’d take her home.

  He was reluctant to release her, but he had no cause to hold her.

  Unless she was wanted for something, which she’d adamantly denied. What would the fingerprinting prove? That she was a wanted felon?

  Zach sighed. If she wasn’t a felon, he would have to let her go. He had a feeling she’d disappear as soon as he released her.

  Zach was closing on his house tomorrow, so he’d be busy most of the day moving. Then he’d be living next door to her, close by, watching her. Waiting for her to screw up. If the woman had committed a crime, he’d know soon enough.

  She wouldn’t get away with it.

  Not as long as he was sheriff.

  * * *

  The sheriff was there when she woke.

  Meg fought back the grogginess, the light-headedness that spun in her head when she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was black fabric stretched over a wide, muscular chest. Then the sheriff’s strong, masculine face loomed over her. She would have leaned away from him if she could have, but there was nowhere to go. Meg glanced down, noticed the cast covering her wrist, her thumb, and ending just below her elbow. A sling held her arm in place against her side. A dull ache throbbed from the general vicinity of her thumb.

  He wasn’t the first sheriff to hurt her. But she’d be damned if he wasn’t the last.

  Her head ached. She reached back and gingerly felt for the head wound, but the blood had been cleaned away. As her fingers searched her scalp, she felt the small bald spot where her hair had been shaved away and the stitches in the back of her head.

  “H-how many stitches did they give me?” she asked, lowering her hand.

  “Eight, I think.” He watched her for a moment. “Are you going to tell me what really happened to your head?”

  Meg lowered her gaze. “I told you, I fell off my horse.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Meg knew he didn’t believe her.

  “Don’t you think we should call your husband now and let him know where you are?” His probing stare never left her face.

  She found the controls on the electronic bed. She pushed the button that slowly brought her up into a sitting position. When she was sitting comfortably, she allowed her gaze to lift until she was looking into the sheriff’s too-serious eyes. So much for her wish that he would be gone. Why the hell was he so good looking anyway? The sheriff had to be close to forty, but she hadn’t seen a single gray hair on his dark, perfectly-shaped head. The only gray on the man was his slate-colored eyes. Maybe he was one of those men who didn’t turn gray until they were sixty. She snorted softly. Like she cared. Sheriffs were supposed to be old, gray-haired men with hordes of grandchildren, not muscular, thirty-something-ish hunks. She cringed inwardly. Why was she even thinking such things about the man? She’d never thought of a man that way before. It must be the after effects of the anesthesia. Meg looked away.

  “Why are you still here?” she mumbled, embarrassed by her thoughts. Overwhelmed by her unwanted and unexpected attraction to the sheriff, she couldn’t quite meet his gaze. “Can’t you go away and leave me alone?”

  “You’re my responsibility,” he said. “At least until your husband shows up.”

  A mixture of pain and sadness clutched her chest. How could she tell the sheriff that Evan wasn’t ever going to show up? And why did he keep questioning her about Evan, anyway? Did he know who she was? Had he investigated her while she was in surgery? If so, what had he found out?

  She changed the subject. “When do I get to leave?”

  “As soon as you’re feeling up to it.”

  Meg cleared her throat. “Will you take me home, or am I off to jail?”

  “I’m taking you to the jail for fingerprinting first. Then, if you’re not wanted for anything, I’ll take you home.” He paused. “On one condition.”

  Her gaze flew to his. “What?”

  “Tell me the truth about where your husband is and why he won’t be concerned about you.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. “Oh, I’m sure he’s concerned about me. But there’s nothing he can do.” Not anymore.

  He frowned, waiting.

  Oh Evan. Fighting back tears, she jerked her face away. “Leave me alone. Why do you care, anyway?”

  His expression remained impassive as he studied her. “If he’s run off and left you and you’re just too embarrassed to say so, it’s okay. I understand.”

  Her gaze darted back to his. Relief swept through her when she realized he didn’t have a clue who she was. She wasn’t about to tell him the truth, not now, so she latched on to the opening he’d given her and just added to it. “He’s only been gone for about a month,” she said, and that was the truth. “I don’t think he’ll ever be back.” Another truth. Unless his body showed up somewhere. Assuming, of course, he really was dead.

  Sheriff Sullivan nodded, sympathy in his gaze. “Well, in that case, I’ll take you out of here now. Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?”

  She shrugged, her eyes downcast. “It’s not an easy thing to admit.” She hated lying like this. But she couldn’t bring herself to admit the truth to this man. If he found out who she really was, he’d never believe another word she ever said. Just like the others. She was pretty sure Evan hadn’t just run off and left her. He wouldn’t do that. He had too much to lose.

  The sheriff made her ride in the back seat of his patrol car the few blocks across town to the jail. The fingerprinting only took a few minutes. Meg’s heart accelerated when he gently pressed her fingertips on the ink pad and then onto the paper, one at a time. He was extra careful with her injured arm—tender even—and her cheeks flamed when he finished and let go of her hand. She’d never been so aware of a man’s presence before, the soft touch of his fingers against hers, how close he stood beside her, the power and heat radiating off his big body, the tantalizing scent of his cologne…

  While they waited for the system to analyze her prints, Meg avoided the sheriff’s scrutinizing gaze. She didn’t think he looked away from her for a second.

  When the system completed its check, nothing came up on her. But she’d known that. She wasn’t a criminal.

  The sheriff couldn’t hide the surprise on his face.

  “You’re not even in the system.”

  She lifted her chin. “I told you I wasn’t a criminal.”

  “That doesn’t mean you haven’t committed a crime,” he murmured. “Just that you’ve never been caught.”

  Meg glared. “Can I go home now?” She was tired, her wrist hurt, and she just wanted to go to bed.

  “Tell me your real name and I’ll think about it.”

  Their gazes locked. “My name is Kim Johnson,” she said. She was not telling him who she was.

  He made a sound of disgust. “Fine. You do realize it’s a misdemeanor to provide false information to a law enforcement officer? Idaho Code Section 18 dash 5413.”

  Meg lowered her gaze. She had hoped he would forget about the false alias, but this guy was too smart. She couldn’t get anything past him.

  “You leave me no choice but you write you a citation.” He plucked a pad off the desk, scribbled on it, then tore off the top sheet and handed it to her. “There’s your citation. Your court date and time are listed on the back.”

  Meg snatched up the scrap of paper and perused it. With a small smile, she stuffed it into the front pocket of her jeans. Since he didn’t know her real name, he’d written the citation out to “Kim Johnson” who didn’t legally exist. So she couldn’t be required to appear in court if the court didn’t know her real name.

  But the sheriff knew where she lived. He might show up at her house prior to the hearing and drag her to the courthouse.

  Hell.

  He eyed her with disapproval. “I’ll be watching you, Kim. You won’t get away with a crime in my c
ounty. And I will find out your real name. Eventually. Maybe a few days behind bars will do you some good.”

  What did that mean? Was he going to arrest her?

  He ushered her toward the exit and out to his car. Nothing more was said on the subject.

  Was he just trying to scare her? Keep her on edge? Damn him anyway.

  If he was as determined as he appeared, she knew it would only be a matter of time before he figured out the truth.

  He let her ride in the passenger seat of his patrol car on the way back to her little cabin in the woods. The silence stretched between them as they traveled through the dark, tree-covered landscape. She couldn’t explain why she’d been so rude to him before, except that it had been the easiest way to push aside her initial fear and the unwanted feelings he aroused in her. It wasn’t like her to be so disrespectful to others. The man was going to be her neighbor, for God’s sake! She could at least try to be neighborly to him.

  But she still wasn’t telling him her name.

  “By the way,” he murmured, “your UA came back negative.”

  She nodded. She’d already known it would. “I told you I wasn’t high.”

  His face filled with color. Meg stared, unable to believe her eyes. Was he embarrassed? Mr. Arrogant? No way.

  “Yes, you did,” he murmured. “Bloodwork will confirm it.”

  Could they take bloodwork on her without her consent? Jerk. Meg recalled sloppily signing numerous forms with her uninjured hand. She hadn’t read any of the forms before signing them. More than likely, one of those forms had been a consent to draw blood.

  She turned away from him. Not that it mattered. They wouldn’t find anything.

  As the car traveled down the road, Meg grudgingly admitted the sheriff seemed like a decent person, which in her experience was rare. She hadn’t been very nice to him. She needed to apologize.

  While apologizing to others had never been difficult for her, apologizing to him would be hard. But it was something she had to do. If he was going to be her neighbor, she needed to learn to get along with him.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry I was so rude to you earlier. I was never going to press charges against you. I was just scared. I’ve never been in trouble with the law before.”

  Not the legitimate law, anyway.

  The police car pulled into the gravel driveway that led to her little cabin. He stopped the car in front of her house. Meg noticed the other cops had gone. Thank goodness. She just wanted to go inside and put this night behind her.

  The sheriff turned to study her in silence. She squirmed beneath the scrutiny, but forced herself to meet his gaze.

  “Whatever that other cop did to you, I want you to know not all of us are like that.” He spoke quietly, with a seriousness that left no doubt that he meant it. His gaze was steady on hers. “I take my oath to protect and serve seriously. What happened this evening was an accident and I never meant to hurt you. I’m the one who should apologize.”

  Was he serious? The last thing she had expected from him was an apology. She didn’t know what to say. Had she finally met an honest, decent, good cop?

  Who was she kidding? There was no such thing as a good cop.

  “Oh,” she said at last, unable to think of a better response. She turned to look out the window.

  “I’ll accept your apology if you accept mine,” the sheriff continued.

  Meg glanced back at him. “Okay.” She opened her door and stepped out of the car. Deciding that no parting words were necessary, she shut the door and raced up the porch steps.

  He rolled his window down and eyed her when she paused on the front porch. “I would advise you not to go anywhere until we complete our investigation. And the next time I see you, I expect you to tell me your real name.”

  Fat chance.

  So much for the nice cop. He still believed she’d killed someone. Meg went inside and closed the door, leaning against it.

  Gravel crunched as the car pulled around her circular driveway and out onto the road.

  Meg shoved away from the door. The truth was, she may have killed the man who’d threatened her in the forest. She could only hope the sheriff’s “investigation” didn’t reveal a body. Or she might be spending a long time behind bars.

  Though if she were honest with herself, jail was probably a lot safer place for her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  After tossing and turning for hour, Meg finally fell into a fitful sleep. She’d taken the pain medication for her arm, but instead of making her tired, the drug made her restless. The sheriff’s face filled her dreams, his intense, can’t-fool-me eyes the center of her thoughts, his hard, muscular body insinuating itself into her dreams in a way that embarrassed her and made her extremely aware of herself as a woman. She woke in a burning state of confusion, uncertain why she was so attracted to the man when he terrified her.

  Shoving him from her mind, Meg lay there, afraid of her possible predicament, arguing with herself about whether she should flee or not. Since they hadn’t located the body last night, she could only assume it had floated downriver. If she was lucky, the body would become snagged on something beneath the surface and never show up.

  At first light, she decided to go outside and search the area to make sure she’d left no evidence behind. She hadn’t taken the time to inspect the shovel and clean off any evidence last night. It was possible there were traces of the man’s hair or skin on the shovel, possibly even blood. If the cops hadn’t already suspected the shovel as a weapon, then she needed to wipe it clean.

  Meg turned the coffee pot on. She dressed quickly, pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and headed for the back door. She knew the sheriff would be back today to finish the investigation. So she had to hurry. She planned to dispose of any evidence and be back to the house before he arrived.

  She still couldn’t believe he’d let her go last night, especially since she knew he didn’t believe her. She’d lied about Evan, letting the sheriff think Evan had run off and left her, when in actuality, Evan was most likely dead. His body hadn’t shown up yet. But if Evan’s body did show up, she was the prime murder suspect as the one to gain the most from his demise.

  If the sheriff ever found out who she really was…Meg didn’t want to contemplate the consequences of that. She didn’t think she could bear his ridicule. He already thought she was a criminal, and if he knew about her past, his low opinion of her would drop even more.

  Liar, liar.

  Meg pushed the painful taunt from her mind. She’d heard it too many times in the past from cruel people who didn’t know her, from people who wouldn’t believe the truth if it was thrust underneath their noses. Some people only believed what they wanted to believe.

  She had thought she would be safe here in north Idaho’s woods, miles from Spokane. Now, after that man who’d come for her last night, she wasn’t so sure. With a bounty on her head, it would only be a matter of time before another of Larry’s men found her.

  Maybe she should run. Far and fast. And never look back.

  Meg paused with her hand on the doorknob. She’d just moved into this place, dammit. She didn’t want to leave. She liked it here. No, she loved it here. She felt free for the first time in her life. But she had to stay “Kim Johnson” or she wouldn’t be safe. Besides, she wasn’t done yet. Running would only make it that much more difficult to do what she’d been planning for years. She was staying until she saw this thing through.

  For now, she would stay. And hope it was the right decision.

  Meg opened the door.

  Two things registered at once.

  The first was the sound of a car door closing, indicating she had company.

  Her heartrate kicked up.

  The second was a large object laying on her back porch that she tripped over as she stepped outside. Meg sprawled forward, her uninjured arm flying out to catch her fall, and tumbled forward on top of a body.

  A large, cold, stiff body.


  She screamed, scrambling backwards, until she hit the door and plopped back on her butt. Accidentally banging her cast against the door jamb, she hissed out a breath and cradled her arm against her chest.

  Gravel crunched as footsteps pounded across the driveway. Moments later the sheriff careened around the corner, his gun drawn. Meg stared, wide-eyed. He wasn’t dressed in his police uniform this morning. Instead he wore a dark gray dress shirt that was tucked into his snug-fitting jeans. Without the uniform, he looked more human, less intimidating. And sexy as hell. She was startled by the sudden tightness that filled her chest as she watched him slide to a stop at the bottom of her porch. Physically, the man was about as perfect as one could get. But his arrogance turned her off. She did not like arrogant men.

  And he was a cop.

  His gaze flicked over the body on her back porch, then shot to her. Meg swallowed hard. Heat crept into her cheeks.

  She was so screwed.

  Meg jerked her gaze back to the body, unable to hold the sheriff’s stare any longer. She sucked in a breath when she recognized the man who had attacked her last night. He lay stretched out on her porch, one arm flung toward her back door, as if he’d been reaching for the door, trying to get in.

  Trying to get her.

  Either he hadn’t been dead when she’d pushed him down the hill into the water and he’d climbed out and come back for her...Or someone had removed him from the river and dropped him on her back porch.

  Meg shivered. She scooted farther away from the body until she was sitting on the floor in her back entry way. The man was definitely dead now.

  The sheriff returned the gun to the holster at his side. His gaze swept the body once more, then settled on her.

  “You okay?”

  Meg jerked her head in a nod, her gaze stuck to his. She noticed in that moment that his shirt was the same color as his eyes.

  “What happened?”

  She cleared her throat. “I opened my door and tripped over h-him. It.” She glanced at the body. Her gaze skittered away.