Chapter Four

Evening had fallen before Jenna’s tears dried fully. Hunger settled on her like a lead pipe landing in her gut. Her throat felt dry; she probably needed to drink another gallon of water. But she craved food first and foremost, something sweet and fattening, like cake loaded down with frosting that would send a normal person into a diabetic shock.

She didn’t want to face anyone; her family had stared at her like she’d become some kind of freaky circus entertainment. Made her think she should charge admission. And Sheriff Green had already been by to question her to the point of another pain-throbbing headache. She’d been just as frustrated as he seemed to be when she could answer absolutely none of his questions. But until her memory decided to work again, there was nothing to be done about it.

What she really wanted to do was go back to sleep and dream about her fantasy lover some more. She wondered how her mind had created such a detailed face. She knew he was a complete stranger; she’d never met him before in her life. And strangely enough, she sensed she hadn’t started dreaming about him until today…until after she’d escaped the Snatcher.

Dear God, she hoped her dream man wasn’t actually the Snatcher. Maybe she was suffering from some kind of sick Stockholm Syndrome.

Her stomach clenched once more in dread, reminding her how empty it was. Though she craved solitude, she suddenly didn’t care to stay in bed, rustling up any more dreams—good or bad—about men she didn’t know.

Shoving off the covers, she gagged down a ripple of apprehension when she spotted the rash of abrasions and bruises blotching her thighs, knees, and shins. She kicked out her toe to inspect the ankle covered with an air cast. After a glance around the room, she spotted no crutches, so she shrugged and made of go of it on her own.

The burn of putting her weight on her ankle actually felt good—it helped detract from the spiking in her head and the pangs in her belly. After hobbling a few circles around the floor, she found walking was manageable, if not slow and incredibly clunky. She peeled off the shorts and camisole someone had put on her. Once stripped to her undies, she paused to inspect her body in the full-length mirror she used to stand in front of every morning of her youth when she dressed for school, wondering if Drew Hickman, or Quincy Rose, or Mick Alberts—depending on the year—would like what he saw. Today, the only person she cared to impress was herself. And she was not impressed. With her black eyes, thousands of scratches and discolorations added to the air cast, she looked like total shit.

Narrowing her attention on one particularly long scratch on the upper inside of her thigh, she licked her dry lips and glanced down to study it. Had fingernails made the gash? Had his fingernails touched her there? A ripple of fear scurried up her spine. Before she knew it, she was dabbing between her legs, checking for tenderness or torn tissue. It was a relief beyond relief when she found her pussy was about the only place on her body that didn’t hurt; it actually still felt pleasantly satisfied from her earlier finger fuck. She covered the mound a moment longer, thankful as something deep inside her knew for certain he hadn’t invaded her.

With a deep breath, she turned from the mirror and hunted up some less-revealing clothes, something to cover any reminder of her recent captivity. Slipping on a pair of long jogging pants she’d worn in high school and an equally-aged long-sleeved t-shirt, she felt as ready as she ever would to face the world.

After easing out of her childhood bedroom, she glanced down the hallway to find it deserted. Sighing her relief, she gingerly limped toward the stairs and held tight to the banister as she shuffled to the first floor, one slow, miserable step at a time. Once bare toes hit the landing, she headed straight for the food source.

As she neared the kitchen, she heard two male voices inside and hesitated. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for company, but her stomach twitched again, so she stepped into the opening of the room to find one of the speakers disappearing out the back door. Jenna barely caught sight of his deputy uniform before the other man, also in uniform, stayed inside and shut the portal behind the departed officer. He spent the next second locking and bolting the latches.

Jenna stole a moment to study him from the back. Blond hair that fell down the length of his neck, wide, powerful shoulders, narrow hips, yummy ass. She squinted, trying to remember all the deputies in Miners Bend who looked this good from the back but came up with no one.

Then he turned.

She held her breath, anxious to see if his front was just as fine as the back. He stopped abruptly when he caught sight of her standing silently in the doorway. His lips parted and his nostrils flared as he sucked in a surprised breath.

Jenna gasped in shock as their gazes clashed. A blanket of heat covered her body, titillating and prickling her skin with instant awareness.

But, holy shit.

She knew that face. Oh, God. She knew that face. The man from her dreams stood in her parents’ kitchen, undressing her with his eyes.

Yet he remained a complete stranger.

Warm, light whiskey-brown peepers, pale hair, square angular face with a strong jaw and masculine forehead, he stood there, no dream, no mirage, but very much real and alive. His gaze bore into hers, telling her he knew her features just as intimately as she knew his, as if he had the same delicious dreams about her she had about him.

Whispering hoarsely, she clutched a hand to her throat. “Who are you?”

She had to know his name, had to know it this very instant or she felt like she’d cease to exist. Melodramatic, maybe, but the need whirled through her stronger than her hunger pangs.

His eyes glittered—with disappointment maybe—but he inclined his head in a gentlemanly kind of greeting. “Joseph Morgan, ma’am.” His voice sent a shock wave of awareness through her. He sounded exactly as she remembered from her dream.

Would he even smell the same? Taste the same? Dear Lord, her body was already reacting to him as it had in the dream. She unconsciously widened her legs.

“I work for the sheriff’s department. I’m the deputy on duty this evening to watch over you.”

Someone to Watch Over Me, The strains of the George Gershwin melody flowed through her, making the moment even more intense. Her arms and legs flooded with goose flesh.

She cleared her pasty throat and opened her mouth to ask if they’d met before—of course they’d met before. Why would she dream about someone she’d never met? But another entered the kitchen behind her, making her jolt and whirl around.

Grinning as she caught sight of the officer, Jenna’s mother hurried past her, touching Jenna’s arm as she went.

“Deputy Morgan,” Karen greeted warmly. “I wondered if we’d get to see you around.” She hurried to him and took his hands, even lifted onto her toes to smack his cheek with a motherly kiss. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

She was?

Jenna frowned. Since when had her mother become a fan of this uniformed stranger? How did they even know each other?

“I’m on duty until midnight,” Deputy Morgan answered with a kind, doting look for Jenna’s mother.

“Thank God.” Karen let out a relieved breath as she leaned confidentially closer to him and rolled her eyes. “Between you and me, some of these new young deputies Ronnie recently hired make me wince. I trust my daughter’s life in your hands far and beyond the rest of that lot.”

He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable by her praise. “Thank you, ma’am,” he murmured politely, even as his gaze sought Jenna.

She had yet to completely enter the kitchen, still poised and frozen in the entryway. Finally noticing her hesitance, Karen waved her into the room. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You remember Deputy Morgan, don’t you?”

Jenna glanced at her mother with a confused frown and then settled her eyes on the stranger from her dreams. With a brief shake of the head, she murmured, “I’m sorry. No.”

“Joseph is the one who found you. He carried you out of the woods and stayed with you all the way to the hospital.”

Stunned, Jenna widened her gaze on her dream man. Well, at least she knew where she’d met him now. He didn’t speak, merely stared at her with a look that made her tummy quiver. “I didn’t know,” she croaked. “Thank you.”

He nodded, then tightened his mouth to swallow before he said, “You already look better than you did two days ago.”

“I feel better,” she murmured, though she wasn’t sure how she knew that, being she had no idea how she’d felt two days ago.

He nodded and took a respectful step back, giving her more space than she needed, as she finally entered the room. Why, she wondered. Why should he act antsy and hesitant around her, as if he were the battered one who’d been held prisoner by the Snatcher for sixteen days?

Like a house battening down its windows, he pulled inside himself when she drew even closer. She could almost see him suck in a breath and hold it, his chest rising slightly before pausing. Even his jaw looked particularly stiff. He lifted his gaze to a spot over her shoulder, refusing to make eye contact.

She came closer, curious how he’d react.

His throat worked, gulping down a hard swallow.

“I thought you looked familiar when I first saw you,” she said, her voice dipping as she remembered the dream. Their dream.

His gaze dropped but instead of stopping at her eyes, it fell to her mouth. She let her lips part just a breath wider so he could see a couple teeth and the hint of her tongue. And if the man didn’t pinch himself even tighter.

After clearing his throat, he rasped, “I’d be surprised if you did remember me. You were fairly…incoherent when we met.”

He wanted her, she decided. He bottled himself up tight because he wanted to grab her and take her against the nearest available surface. But the very idea horrified him. She read this all too clearly in every tightly-controlled action he made. And the realization didn’t scare the shit out of her. Doing him sounded like a damn fine idea, actually, which relieved her.

Thank God. Now she didn’t have to worry whether her time with the Snatcher would put a major smackdown on her libido. Moments ago, she’d wondered if she’d ever want to be in the same room as a virile man again.

But here she stood, actually the intimidator, as the hunky deputy oozing sex out his pores tried not to fuck her with his gaze. And instead of cowering in fear, she wanted to push the officer past his limits and discover just how kinky he could get.

She would find out, she promised herself. Before the night was over, she’d have this man naked in her bed. And he’d take away all the unknown terrors consuming her.

For some reason, she knew no one else would do.

*

Joseph wasn’t sure how he held himself together. With Jenna Daggert standing in front of him, draped in those loose, old clothes, looking beaten and frail, he just wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let go again, shield her from everything. He wanted to kiss the cut on the corner of her lip, then lap his tongue deep into her mouth to reassure himself she was safe and unharmed.

His body vibrated with the need to touch. But he managed to check himself, afraid to even breathe in fear he’d surge toward her and consume her whole, crowding her into the protective space inside his embrace.

“Whether I was incoherent when we met or not, something inside me remembers you, Deputy Morgan. Very clearly.”

Her voice. God. He’d driven himself crazy these past couple weeks, wondering what her voice would sound like. And now that she stood in front of him, her face tilted up to meet his gaze, the creamy, silken, feminine tone of her voice brushed across his nerve endings like a feather scraping his balls. Teasing, tickling, exciting.

“You don’t have a forgettable face,” she finished, her lips quirking with the barest hint of amusement as if she saw each aching feeling he tried in vain to hide, and was purposely taunting him for it.

God, he needed to get laid.

He couldn’t respond, couldn’t speak. Hell, he couldn’t even move, except for his chest. His lungs heaved, shifting around massive amounts of air as his breathing grew thick. He wanted to kiss and lick away every boo-boo on her. He wanted to lay her down on the softest bed and worship her body, loving away each mark the Snatcher had left. He wanted to nibble and dine—

His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten dinner. He’d come straight to the Daggert home from his regular patrol shift. Embarrassed, he slapped a hand over his abdomen as both Karen and Jenna grinned.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his neck heating with humiliation.

Chuckling, Jenna’s mother patted his arm. “Don’t worry about it. You eaten supper yet, Morgan?”

He ripped his gaze away from the woman still standing too close to him and reluctantly turned to her mother. “I’m fine,” he said with a tight smile.

Karen arched one eyebrow. “Is that a yes or a no?”

Feeling as if he were once again ten and his own mother was demanding to know if he’d washed his hair, he swallowed and shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

“Well then.” She lugged out a breath. “Let’s make a deal. You cut with the ‘ma’am’ bullshit and I’ll feed you a meal. Sound good to you?”

Startled, Joseph opened his mouth, not sure how to answer. But Jenna saved him with a laugh.

“Don’t mind her, Deputy Morgan. I think Momma’s the only woman on earth who gets offended when someone calls her ma’am.”

Her mother harrumphed. “Makes me feel like some crippled up old lady who can’t cross the street by herself.”

Joseph cleared his throat and ducked his head. “My apologies, Mrs. Daggert.”

But Karen looked about as put off by that term as she did ma’am. “Just call me Karen. ‘Kay?”

He nodded, deciding not to use a title at all when next addressing her. When she turned away, his gaze found Jenna. Her smile bloomed even broader, as if sharing an inside joke with him. Those blue eyes that had haunted his dreams for weeks sparkled as she grinned. At him. Drowning in her presence, he could only soak in every ray of Jenna Daggertness she emitted. The chime of her earlier laugh echoed in his head.

God, how she could laugh after what had happened to her, he had no idea, but he was damn glad for it. The Snatcher hadn’t beaten her down and crushed her. The woman he’d become obsessed with might have a chance left at a regular life after all. If he had anything to do with it, she would.