Mistaken Twin. Jodie Bailey
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could focus on right now, on the familiar comforting warmth of a mug in her hands. On the creamy walls she’d painted with Erin when she’d first rented the apartment.
On the police officer whose presence seemed way too big for the tiny space of her living room.
Hands practically engulfing his own sapphire-blue mug, Wyatt sat in an armchair in the corner near the window and stared into his coffee. He didn’t move until his radio crackled. He listened, then spoke into the mic at his shoulder, ending with “Ten six.”
“What are those numbers?” The numbers were easier to talk about than any questions he’d have for her. “‘Ten six?’”
“Means I’m busy unless it’s urgent. I’m in the middle of something and can’t be interrupted unless the world’s about to explode.”
He was trying to be funny, but nothing about it was amusing. She was the most important thing on a police officer’s agenda.
Wyatt took a sip of coffee, then inspected the mug. “This is nice. Well made. The color’s rich. You buy them from someone around here?” He lifted the crafted piece to look for a mark on the bottom.
He wouldn’t find one. Jenna had made them herself, but she couldn’t say so. No one around town knew she threw pottery, that she’d done so since she’d learned in one of the after-school programs in El Paso. She took pleasure in the wet clay as she infused beauty into something unbelievably plain, like Jesus had done with her.
She’d love to share her work, but it was one of the things she’d had to keep in the dark, packed away to protect her safety.
Of course, none of her caution mattered now.
The room took on the kind of awkward silence that made the air heavier, as though a black hole spun over the sleek glass coffee table. All she wanted was to be alone, yet Wyatt sat and sipped his coffee, acting like this was some sort of extended social call.
Of course, she’d been the one to tell him he could have coffee, but only because he’d probably saved her life, then made sure her apartment was safe. It would have been kind of rude to kick him out after he’d been on the front lines for her.
Oh, man. He’d been in every room of her apartment. There had better not be any dirty laundry in the middle of the bedroom floor. Her cheeks heated. “You don’t have to stay.”
He met her gaze and held it. “I don’t have a choice.”
“Erin said you had to? Was that your conversation outside when she left?” Jenna’s best friend was the only female firefighter on the Mountain Springs Volunteer Fire Department. She had been the protective type even before she’d almost fallen victim to a serial killer. “You know Erin’s not your boss. You don’t have to do what she says.”
Wyatt’s laugh was quick and seemed to come from deep in his chest. In other circumstances, his mirth might have lifted her spirits. “You know you’re living in a fantasy world, right? Erin’s all about taking charge. It’s a good possibility if I don’t obey her commands, I’ll never hear the end of it. It’s easier to nod and agree, especially while she’s living in my house.” His smile slipped and the serious expression that usually resided on his face took over. “This time it’s my real boss who’s calling the shots.”
Jenna leaned forward and set her coffee mug on the table. “What?”
“As long as the guy who tried to take you is out there, I’m supposed to keep an eye on you, at least for the short term. Plus, I still have to take your statement.”
“So I’m your assignment?”
“If you want to use those words, sure.”
“And you have to stay in my home for the foreseeable future?” His constant presence was going to put a definite crimp in her plans.
But maybe...
Maybe there was hope. It fluttered in her chest, daring her to reach out and grasp it.
If Wyatt was watching out for her, she wouldn’t have to leave. Maybe they’d catch whoever the man was before he could try again.
“I won’t crash in your apartment. I’ll be in my vehicle.” Wyatt shifted and sat on the edge of his seat, holding his coffee mug between his knees. “Do you know who the man was?”
“I’ve never seen him before.” Technically, it was true. She’d never seen that particular man in her life. She’d have remembered the dark eyes, the scar along his cheek. But she’d known plenty of men like him.
Jenna was hiding from one.
Logan had been handsome. Charming... Until he had her under his thumb and threw the first punch. She could still feel the shock of it—physically and mentally. Her lower jaw tightened. Her lip trembled. She dug her teeth in and reached for her mug, but her hand shook, and she sloshed coffee onto the glass.
Wyatt pulled in a deep breath, watching her with a practiced gaze before he spoke. “What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing.” She should probably confess, but what good would it do? If there was even the slimmest chance she could preserve her new identity and stay in town, the last thing she needed to do was bust everything into the open.
Wyatt stood, then stalked to the kitchen and set his mug on the bar with a thump, making Jenna jump. “This?” He turned toward her, familiar suspicion in his eyes, making the blue turn granite gray. “This is my problem. This is what frustrates me about you.”
Her head jerked back so hard her neck strained. “What?” She stood and squared off with him, the fear from her earlier encounter finding new fire in her anger. “What exactly are you accusing me of? A man broke in to my shop tonight. Am I suddenly the bad guy?”
Wyatt dragged his hand down his face and along the back of his neck, where he dug his fingers in. “No, but you’re definitely not telling me the truth.”
“I don’t know who the guy was, okay?”
“Fine. Then answer this... Was it a robbery gone wrong? A kidnapping attempt?” Straightening, Wyatt crossed his arms. “You may not know who he was, but do you have any clue why he was there? Give me something to work with, Jenna.”
Wait a second. Jenna backed away, her eyebrows inching closer to her hairline. Something didn’t make sense. For all Wyatt knew, he’d foiled a simple break-in, one where Jenna was merely caught in the middle. He didn’t know the real story, had no idea she’d been targeted. Yet the bodyguard duty, the intensity and direction of his questions...
It seemed as though he did.
Her jaw slackened and she swallowed hard. Maybe Wyatt Stephens had a problem with her all of these years because he knew the one thing she’d tried the hardest to hide.
Exactly who she really was.
I can’t give you anything. Wyatt dropped his head against the seat of his truck and stared across the street at Jenna’s apartment. Maybe he was being overly suspicious, but it sure did feel like her insistence was a lie. Fine. He’d go around her. He’d find out the truth on his own.
Any news yet? Wyatt tapped out the message to fellow officer Brian Early, then rested his cell phone on his leg, settling in his seat to watch Jenna’s front door. He’d had Early bring his personal truck then take his SUV to the station. He wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible as he sat parked in the dark end of the alley across the street from Jenna’s apartment. Thankfully, the historic building’s second story offered only one way in, the very stairs he’d practically had to chase her up earlier to keep her from running headlong into the unknown of her own apartment.
In some ways, she appeared to be heedless