“I don’t need a doctor to tell me I’ve been beaten. And I don’t need a victim’s advocate to tell me it wasn’t my fault.”
“Then what do you need?”
Jackson’s question must have surprised her. She met his gaze, her almond-shaped eyes surrounded by thick black lashes that contrasted sharply with light-colored irises. “To go back a decade and say no when my ex-husband asked me to marry him.”
“You think your ex-husband had something to do with what happened tonight?”
“Something to do with it? He had everything to do with it. The men who were here were searching for something of Cody’s. A disk. They said Cody told them that I had it. That he’d given it to me before he went to prison.”
Her ex-husband was in prison?
And she owned an art gallery in Lakeview, Virginia.
And her first name was Morgan.
Surprised, Jackson studied her face. Bruised and swollen, it barely resembled the photo of Morgan Alexandria that he’d seen months ago when Jude Sinclair had asked him to investigate the ex-wife of a man he’d put into prison. Barely resembled but did. Dark black hair. Vivid, silvery-blue eyes. Exotic beauty that had stuck in his mind long after he’d seen the photo. Maybe if he hadn’t been so caught up in escaping his thoughts and his guilt, Jackson would have put two and two together when he’d first arrived at the gallery.
And maybe he wouldn’t have rung the doorbell.
Seen Morgan’s battered face.
A God thing?
His sister would have said so.
Maybe, just maybe, Jackson believed it.
An ambulance pulled into the parking lot, cutting off further conversation.
“Looks like your ride is here, Morgan,” the sheriff said quietly. “I’m going to check things out around here. Then I’ll come by to see how you’re doing.”
“Really, Sheriff Reed, I don’t need to go to the hospital. All I need are a few aspirins and an ice pack.”
Of course, she did need to go. There’d be a team waiting to collect forensic evidence from her clothes, hair and skin. Photographs would be taken. Doctor’s reports written. Everything done to ensure that anything collected would be admissible in court.
Sheriff Reed didn’t mention any of those things as two EMTs approached. Jackson didn’t either, but the thought of Morgan facing doctors, police and victim’s advocate alone didn’t sit well with him.
“Is there anyone you want me to call for you, Morgan? Family? Friends? Someone who can meet you at the hospital?”
“No. Thanks.”
An EMT dropped a blanket over her shoulders and urged her toward the ambulance. She took a few steps and stopped, turning to face Jackson. “In case I don’t see you again, thanks. For everything. If you hadn’t shown up—” she paused, shaking her head. “Thanks.”
In case I don’t see you again.
The words were eerily similar to the ones Jackson’s sister had spoken two and a half years ago. They’d been at their parents’ house, celebrating their youngest sister’s engagement. At the end of the evening, Lindsey had hugged Jackson tight, kissed his cheek and told him she loved him. Surprised, he’d laughed and asked what all the mushy stuff was about. Her words had haunted him ever since, echoing in his mind and drifting into his dreams. I just want you to know how I feel. In case something happens and we never see each other again.
She’d followed the remark with a quick comment about Jackson’s dangerous line of work, and they’d parted ways. A month later, Lindsey was dead, murdered by her estranged husband. Too late, Jackson heard her words for what they were—a cry for help. He couldn’t go back and change the past, couldn’t redo that moment, ask the questions that should have been asked. What he could do was make sure that Morgan really was okay.
An hour at the hospital, and Jackson would get back to what he’d come to Lakeview for. Tomorrow, he’d watch as Jude and Lacey vowed to love each other forever, he’d pray that their forever was much longer than his sister’s had been, and then he’d row out onto Smith Mountain Lake, inhale the cool autumn air and hope that somehow he’d find the peace he’d been searching for since Lindsey’s death.
THREE
Morgan pulled on a borrowed sweatshirt, wincing as the fabric brushed against her bandaged forehead. She’d told Sheriff Reed that all she needed were a few aspirins and an ice pack and she’d be fine. That was before the pain hit. Now she thought she might need a couple days in bed and some heavy-duty painkillers before she felt better. Her head throbbed, her jaw ached and her ribs hurt with every breath. Though the doctor assured her nothing was broken, moving was painful, and Morgan grimaced as she shoved her feet into sneakers that were a size too big and leaned down to tie the laces. At least she had shoes. The clothes she’d been wearing during the attack had been taken as evidence. If not for the kindness of several nurses, Morgan would be stuck wearing a hospital gown home.
And she was going home.
Despite the doctor’s recommendation that she stay for twenty-four-hour observation, Morgan was determined to return to the gallery as soon as Sheriff Reed gave her the okay. She had calls to make and packing to do. It had been two years since she’d last visited her family in Spokane, Washington. She’d thought there would be plenty of time for trips west after she established her gallery, but no one was guaranteed a tomorrow. Thanks to Cody and his thug friends, Morgan realized that now more than ever.
“Ms. Alexandria?” A young nurse poked her head into the room, her wide-eyed gaze making Morgan feel like a bug under a microscope. Worse, it made her feel like a victim, and that was something she’d promised herself she’d never be again.
“Yes?”
“There’s someone here to see you.”
“I’d rather not—”
Before she could get the words out, a man nudged past the nurse and stepped into the room. Morgan recognized him immediately. Rangy and tall with auburn hair and midnight-blue eyes, he looked exactly like a hero should—tough, trustworthy and strong.
Or maybe the fact that he’d saved Morgan’s life was skewing her perspective. “Jackson? What are you doing here?”
“Making sure you’re all right.” He said it as if coming to the hospital to visit a stranger was the most natural thing in the world. And they were strangers despite the way Morgan’s heart leaped in recognition as she looking into his eyes.
“Shouldn’t you be out searching for a wedding present for Jude and Lacey instead?”
“That can wait,” he said, his gaze dropping to the too-large shoes she wore. “Are you going somewhere?”
“Home.”
“It might be best if you stay here for the night.”
“That’s what the doctor keeps telling me, but I’m feeling well enough to leave.”
“It’s not just your physical condition I’m worried about, Morgan. The two men who attacked you are still on the loose. Until they’re found, the hospital is the safest place for you.”
“If they want to find me, the hospital is going to be no safer than anyplace else.”
“If?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, the gesture as practiced as the charming smile he’d flashed when she’d opened the gallery door. He reminded her of Cody. The same easy charm and playboy exterior that hid more than it showed. She glanced away, uncomfortable with the comparison and with her own need to make it.
“They’ve got no reason to