Last Chance Hero

A dirty rag. Hell.

She didn’t deserve to have it stuck between her teeth like that.

Donovan finally took a step toward her, determined to help her pull it out.

Before he could get any closer, Jordynn’s assailant smashed against his hip and dragged him back to reality. This wasn’t a romance, waiting to be rekindled. This was a life-or-death situation.

As Donovan stumbled, he didn’t have time to curse his own distractibility. He spun to the side, shook the other man off, then dropped to a low crouch and prepared for a second lunge. He didn’t have to wait long. With a wordless growl, the attacker came at him again. Donovan feinted to the left, the slammed out his right arm, knocking the smaller man to the ground. He gave the man no time to recover. He leaped forward to pin him to the ground, a knee in his chest and a forearm under his throat.

“Give it up,” he growled.

Under his elbow, the guy let out a choking laugh. In under a second, Donovan understood why. A sharp pain pierced his side.

A knife. Dammit.

He tried to no avail to get his arms around to dislodge it. The burn of the blade only increased as it dug in farther, and Donovan would have no choice but to let go if he wanted to pull it free. He couldn’t do that fast enough, either. A knee came up and slammed into him just shy of his groin. With a pain-filled grunt, he shifted out of reach. It was enough to give the assailant another temporary advantage. The smaller man dug his feet into the ground and slid up. Then he delivered a vicious kick to his chest, winding Donovan.

As he heaved in a breath, he finally did take a minute to curse himself. Stupid, to go in overconfident. Even stupider to assume the man was unarmed. Lucky, though, that it was something other than a gun.

Take what luck you can get, he told himself grimly.

He finally righted himself and reached around to yank out the blade. The wound was superficial, but it would still need attention. He knew he’d have to deal with it later. The other man had already started toward Jordynn once again, and she appeared to be fixed to the spot. Frozen in fear, maybe.

No way. No way in hell.

He tossed the knife to the ground, and as it landed with a dull thud, he wasted no time. He dived at Jordynn’s attacker’s legs. Together, they slammed to the grass, sending dirt flying.

“No more chances,” Donovan said as he came up to his knees.

He drew back his fist and smacked it into the other guy’s jaw as hard as he could. The blow sent the man sliding backward up the grass, where he groaned once, then stayed there, unmoving.

Donovan leaned down.

Thoroughly unconscious. As expected.

He turned back toward Jordynn.

She was gone.

Unreasonable panic washed through him.

His eyes flew around the outside yard in an arc, searching. No movement caught his eye. No flash of red hair. Nothing.

She had no idea of the danger she was in. That the man who’d attacked her was probably the least of her worries. The tip of the damned iceberg. If she’d taken off, she wouldn’t stand a chance in hell of staying safe.

He spun back toward the house, and on the second sweep, he found her. She’d made it to the front porch, where she’d crouched down behind a bush. The gag had fallen from her mouth, but her hands were still bound, and she was eyeing him nervously.

Thank God.

But Donovan’s relief was short-lived.

Before he could say a word, Jordynn’s jaw dropped open, and a high-pitched scream filled the dawn air.

He sprang forward, intent on stopping the noise. Seeing little other choice, he yanked the discarded rag from the ground, then knelt down beside her and shoved it back toward her mouth. Her teeth gnashed down hard against his skin.

Pain shot through his hand, but the pang of guilt at his own invasive action was worse. This was the woman he’d promised his heart to a decade ago. Just thinking about hurting her made his gut twist. Actually doing it was like a knife with a jagged edge, slamming into his rib cage.

Forcefully, Donovan pushed both the guilt and the physical pain to the back of his mind. He had to make her stop. To make her listen.

So tell her what happened.

But he couldn’t make himself do it. Not yet. Not like this.

As she continued to yell, punctuated now by gasping breaths, he held fast to the cloth, then gripped her head and worked the fabric between her lips. He got it all the way in, and held it there until she stopped struggling. Without letting go, he leaned back just enough to give her some space, but not so far that she could make an escape attempt. She sat still, her eyes squeezed tightly closed, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths. Donovan relaxed his grip a little, inhaling deeply. It was a mistake. Her sweet scent filled his nose—she wore the same delicately floral perfume he remembered so well. The light aroma that sometimes seemed to linger in the air when he woke from a pleasant dream.

Startled by his strong reaction, Donovan lost his grip on her completely. She jerked away, then sent a vicious kick at his knee—forceful enough to knock him to the side—then scrambled in the other direction, hitting the patio with a muffled cry.

Bloody hell.

Donovan shot up. Three long strides brought him to her side. With a grunt, he leaned down, grabbed her elbows and dragged her to her feet. She tried to yank herself away yet again. Donovan held firm.

“I’m trying to help you,” he said, his voice soft and even. “I’m not going to hurt you, and I want to take that gag out and untie your hands. But first, you need to promise me you aren’t going to scream. Can you do that?”

She kept her eyes shut. Like maybe she could will the sight of him away. After a second, though, she nodded once.

Gently, Donovan reached out to tug the cloth from her mouth. He felt her tense as he did it, and he couldn’t blame her. The situation was surreal for him, too, and he wasn’t the one being visited by someone he thought to be dead.

Wordlessly, he moved behind her, his fingers seeking her wrists. Even though he’d touched her twice over the past few minutes, this time it was different. Maybe because of the intention behind it. Donovan held the zip tie between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing it repeatedly to make it weak. He could feel the thrum of Jordynn’s pulse underneath his attention, and even though he knew it had to be the result of her nerves, it sent heat through his own veins. With gritted teeth, he continued to work until he was satisfied that he’d compromised the plastic enough to break it. Then he lifted his leg and slapped her wrists against his knee. The cord snapped with almost no resistance, and Donovan stepped away.

“You okay?” he asked.

She drew in an audible breath. “You’re not him.”

“Jordynn.” He turned her around to face him.

She shook her head, and continued to hold her eyes closed. “Please don’t be real.”

“Jordynn—”

“Stop saying my name.”

Her voice held a tiny bit of rebellion, and part of Donovan was glad to see she was as strong-willed as ever. A bigger part of him was worried that the longer they stayed on her lawn with an unconscious man at their feet, the longer they’d risk being caught. The longer he’d risk being caught. He sure as hell hadn’t come all this way to let that happen.

“We can’t stay here,” he said.

“Were you in my house?”

Donovan frowned at the seemingly unrelated reply. “Yes, but—”

“How did you get in?”

“The key you keep inside the garden gnome.”

“When’s my birthday?”

He smiled. “December 20. But you celebrate it on June 20 so no one tries to double up your birthday and Christmas gifts.”

At last, she lifted her lids. Her too-blue eyes went wide. She stared at him for three long heartbeats. Then her baby blues rolled back in her head. She slumped to the side, and Donovan caught her. With a sigh that was one part pleasure, one part resignation and one part worry, he lifted her gently with both arms, snagged her discarded shoe from the grass and started up the walkway.

And he had to admit, holding her close made him feel like no time had passed at all.

Chapter 2

At first, Jordynn thought she was dreaming.

After all, that’s where she always saw him. Where her subconscious reigned, and the decades-old heartbreak couldn’t quite be buried.

She inhaled deeply, trying to orient herself. Instead, she got a whiff of something sharply sweet, and recognized it right away as coming from the not-so-secret stash of brandy her mom had always kept in the cabinet beside the TV. Immediately, her eyes flew open. And that distinct, familiar gaze met hers.

Donovan Grady’s hazel eyes.

The ones she’d seen just before all the blood rushed to her head and she fainted.

And Jordynn didn’t just think she was dreaming. She knew it.

But if you’re dreaming...then how come you saw his eyes before you passed out?

Panic hit her. She attempted to sit up, but only made it as far as an elbow before her head swam again. She squeezed her eyes shut, and a warm hand—Donovan’s hand—slipped to the back of her neck and eased her down again. His touch lingered. She let it. She wanted so badly for it to be real. Tears pricked at her lids.

“Look at me.” Donovan’s voice.

Her heart thundered in her chest. And she refused to obey. She wouldn’t look. She wouldn’t open her eyes and find him there. She wouldn’t see his ghost. If she stayed still for long enough, the dream would fade and so would the sadness.

“C’mon,” he said.

“No,” she whispered hoarsely.

“I need to make sure you’re okay.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to. Please.”

In spite of her desire to keep them shut, his pleading tone made her open them. Though her vision blurred, she still had a decent view of the big man in front of her. He sat beside her on a chair, his knees brushing the edge of the couch where she was lying down. He held the brandy decanter in his hands, the crystal cap off.

Relief flooded through Jordynn. She wasn’t dreaming. But clearly, her mind had mixed up past and present. Taking the scent of her mother’s favorite poison and mixing it with the unusual presence of a man in her house, and sending her back ten years. Because Donovan was a skinny kid in too-baggy pants. He had an easy smile and no rough edges. This man was huge, and he wore fitted jeans and a white T-shirt, stained with dirt and what looked like blood.

“Jordynn?”

She blinked, and the dulled edges of him came into focus. He’d taken off his hat and his sandy hair sat matted to his head in a tangle she knew well. A mess she’d run her hands through a thousand times. She blinked a second time. He didn’t disappear. His hazel eyes—framed by thick, familiar lashes—were tinged with concern, their corners crinkled up. She’d stared into them enough times to be able to pinpoint each fleck. To know what they looked like sad, happy, scared...all of it.

Impossible.

She squished backward onto the overstuffed arm of the couch as an enormous, terrified lump filled her throat.

“Dono.” His name was barely more than a choked sob.

“Yes.”

“You’re dead.”

“I can explain, honey. But I’ll need more time than we’ve got right this second.”

Jordynn blinked, watching his mouth work as he continued to talk, but not hearing a word. He could explain? How? She’d attended his funeral. Comforted his grieving father. Lost herself in a year-long despair she never thought she’d crawl out of. She’d blamed herself for what happened. Blamed himself for his death. No explanation could erase that, or the accompanying dark moments. The pain and loss were too great.

But somehow that didn’t stop her from wanting to reach out. From having an incredible need to run her fingers along that stubble on his face. To touch him, just to make sure—really sure—he was there.

Oh, God.

She tightened her hands into fists, steadying herself to stop from actually following through on the desire.

His hand landed on her shoulder, and when she flinched, he drew it away again quickly, hurt touching his eyes before he covered it again in an impassive mask.

“Hey. Did you hear me?” he asked gently.

She shook her head. “No.”

“I said it’s not safe for us to stay here much longer.”

“Safe?”

“Not safe,” he corrected.

“So...what?” She blinked again. “You want me to go somewhere else?”

“I need us to go somewhere else.”

“I can’t go anywhere with you, Dono.” This time, saying his name hurt.

“If you come with me, I can give you at least a bit of an explanation,” he told her again.

“You already said that.”

“I know.”

“I’m not—” She paused, took a breath, tried again. “I won’t leave this—” God, why can’t I just complete a sentence? Why does it all seem so inadequate? “No. Not with—No.”

He leaned back, looking frustrated. And something else, too. Maybe a bit disappointed. Or even surprised. Had he thought that after ten years away, she’d jump into his arms? Be so relieved he was alive she’d forget the rest?

Are you relieved?

She bit her lip and told herself it was an awful thing to wonder. And she wasn’t even going to answer the silent, self-directed question.

He leaned forward again, his face tense now. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I saw another way. I wouldn’t even have...”

Even though he trailed off, Jordynn heard what came next. If he’d seen another way, he wouldn’t have come back at all. And it took away a tiny bit of her guilt, making it a little easier to focus on the here and now rather than the past. Easier to find the words and string them together.

“I can’t even begin to guess what happened to you,” she said. “Or why you would let everyone who loved you think you were dead. But you have to know that you can’t expect to walk in here and tell me I’m not safe and think I’ll just go with you.”

Donovan lifted his hand to tug on his ear. A heart-wrenching gesture—a habit that meant he was truly worried—that Jordynn had all but forgotten about it. It made her wonder what else she’d forgotten about. How many memories had faded away with the years? How many of them had she deliberately buried? It hurt to think about it. Like a freshly closed wound threatening to open all over again.

This was just too hard.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered.

“You have to, honey. Trust me when I say this wasn’t a random attack.”

“Trust you?” The concept seemed utterly foreign.

“Just in this. Please.” There was a note of desperation in his voice. “That man over there? He has some friends waiting for him, and I have no idea how long it’s gonna be before they show up.”

Her blood went cold. “Over where?”

He nodded his head toward a space behind him, and Jordynn forced her eyes away from his face. On the other side of the room, bound to one of her mother’s antique dining chairs with some kind of wire, sat the birdlike man from outside. Somehow, she’d almost put him out of her mind. Now the sight of him made her stomach roil, both because of his attack and because of his appearance. The man’s head hung to one side, a mottled bruise already fanning out along his jaw. He’d been gagged. Far more efficiently than Jordynn herself had been, she noted. A strip of sheeting had been wound around his mouth—multiple times—and knotted securely behind one ear.

Jordynn swallowed. “Did you do that?”

Donovan nodded shortly. “Yes.”

“Is he...?”

“He’s alive.”

“So...you’re just going to leave him there?”

“I couldn’t exactly leave him in the front yard.”

“Who is he?”

“The less you know, the better.”

She met his gaze, noting the resignation there.

Resignation, she thought. But no regret.

Not for the man tied up, anyway. It made her heart ache even more than it already did. The Donovan she knew was protective, but loving. A little hotheaded and maybe even impetuous, but always compassionate and kind. Reverent of life. Maybe that had all changed when he’d feigned the end of his own. Which was what he must’ve done, she surmised.

“He would’ve killed you, Jordynn,” he stated then, far too matter-of-factly.

She suppressed a shiver, because now she wasn’t wondering what she’d forgotten—she was wondering what she’d missed. What parts of him had been irrevocably altered, and how he’d become this larger, darker version of himself.

Abruptly, like he couldn’t take her scrutiny, he stood and began to pace the room.

“You should pack a bag,” he said. “Clothes. Toothbrush. That kinda stuff. Enough for a few days, maybe longer. We can always figure out exactly what needs to be done when we get where we’re going.”

“I have a simpler solution.”

Donovan paused, tugged his ear again and shook his head. “No.”

“You don’t know what I was going to say.”

“The police aren’t an option.”

She ignored the way it felt so normal to have him practically read her thoughts. “But your dad—”

“Was the chief when he died, I know. But he thought I was dead, just like you did. All his friends on the force think it. And it needs to stay that way.”

“And if I say no?” She asked the question so softly that he didn’t seem to hear it.

“Have you got a car? Or access to one? I had to leave mine behind.”

Jordynn cleared her throat and repeated her question, this time more firmly. “What if I refuse to go with you?”

His brows knit together. “I’ll make you come with me, Jordynn, if I have to.”

A spark of anger flickered. “You’ll make me come with you? Just like you made me believe you were gone?”

“I’ll do whatever I have to, to protect you.”

The spark flamed, and Jordynn pushed herself to a sitting position, ignoring the accompanying light-headedness. She wasn’t just mad—she was furious.

She opened her mouth, poised to tell him what he could do with his protection, but her phone buzzed from the coffee table, momentarily distracting her.

“Do not answer that,” Dono warned.

“Just try and stop me.”

They dived for the phone at the same time. And even though Jordynn was still woozy, she was determined. She went low, sliding under the edge of the table instead of over it. Dono, on the other hand, smashed straight into the wood, his big body landing on it hard. The wood creaked, then shuddered. Jordynn gasped. She guessed what was about to happen with only a second to spare, and she dug her feet into the area rug and dragged herself out the way, just as the table collapsed.

The still-ringing phone flew sideways, then skidded from the carpet to the laminate, its LifeProof case making a rubbery thump as it came to a halt.

Jordynn’s eyes moved back to Dono. He groaned, then rolled to his back. Jordynn took advantage of his stunned state of mind. She crawled over the floor, snapped up the cell phone, then lifted it to look at the caller ID.

Boss-Man Reed.

Thank God.

“Hello,” she gasped into the phone.

But Donovan had recovered. His hand closed over top of hers, his wide fingers snapping the hang-up button before she could stop him.

“Hey!”

“I told you not to answer that.” His voice was dark. “Who was it?”

Jordynn stared up at him. He sounded worried. But something else, too. Jealous, maybe? He had no right to either feeling. For some reason, that didn’t stop her from stumbling to answer quickly.

“It was just my boss.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Dono reminded her. “Does your boss always call you then?”

Warmth crept up her cheeks. “No. It’s not like...that. He’s like family. He probably knows I worked late and wants to make sure I’m okay.”

He stared at her like he was assessing the truth of her statement. Then her phone rang again, and his intense gaze moved to the screen instead.

“Reed?” He frowned. “Sasha’s uncle?”

“Yes. He’s my boss.”

Dono tapped then phone on his thigh, then held it out. “Tell him you’re fine.”

Jordynn snatched the slim device away irritably and hit the answer button. “Sorry, Reed.”

Her boss’s familiar, gentle voice came through immediately. “Jo. Everything okay? Heard you pulled a double?”

Briefly, she considered telling him the truth. Or at least a portion of it. But if Dono was telling even the partial truth... She wouldn’t risk her boss’s life.

“Yes to both,” she said. “I’m home now, though. Hoping to get some extra sleep tonight.”

“Exactly what I needed to hear.”

Jordynn let out a silent breath. “Bye, Reed.”

“Night, sweetie.”

She clicked the phone off, then turned toward Dono, steeling herself. But it was impossible to prepare for the force of those hazel eyes. They made her ache.

“Thank you,” he said. “Now we should go.”

She inhaled. “You don’t get to do this. You were dead, Dono. And now you’re just a stranger.”

“I can’t just run out of here. No matter how badly you might want me to.”

“You did it once before.”

“That was different.”

“How?”

His eyes filled with pain, and he turned away. Like he wanted to hide it, but couldn’t. Or like he couldn’t find an answer she’d want to hear.

Well, damn him. And damn his pain, too.

Jordynn stood up. And started to move. Quickly.

* * *

Donovan realized about a second too late what her intention was.

Crap.

Before he could blink, she was three quarters of the way across the sunken living room, the slim white phone still in her hands.

Double crap.

And by the time he actually reacted to what was happening, she had already reached the stairs that led up to the second floor.

“Jordynn!”

She ignored him and darted up the stairs.

He snarled a curse, then dashed after her. He got to the top step just as she reached the last door at the end of the hall. She shot him a triumphant look as she slammed it, then clicked the lock.

Crap on toast.

“Jordynn!” he yelled a second time.

He shook the handle. Nothing. He shook harder. It didn’t budge. On the other side, he could hear the sound of furniture moving around. He had no problem picturing what she was doing. The big white dresser would be too big to move. The nightstand, though, wouldn’t be a problem. Maybe she’d position the desk chair under the knob. Or take the narrow bookcase from inside her closet and drag it over to cover the whole hinge-side of the door. In minutes, she’d be barricaded in. She’d dial 911. Or maybe the direct line to his dad’s old office. They’d both be exposed. Both be at risk.

Donovan stepped back, ran a hand over his hair, gave his ear a solid tug and stared at the closed door. Then smiled.

Hurriedly, he slipped into the den. He tiptoed over the floor, then eased open the closet door. He pushed his way through the spare coats, then ran his hand over the far wall until his fingers found the metal latch hidden there. He lifted it, letting himself into the cheater bathroom it shared with her bedroom. He slipped past the tub and toilet, then through the door on the other side. He stopped at the foot of her bed, watching as she did just as he’d pictured, and reinforced the door with the wood chair. When she’d set it firmly under the knob to her satisfaction, she stood back and gave her handiwork a nod.

Donovan stepped closer, near enough to touch her, and spoke in a low voice. “It looks good. But I still see a bit of a problem with the security of it, don’t you?”

She spun, then jumped back, knocking over the chair and smacking into the door. “How did you get in here?”

“C’mon, Jordynn. The layout of the house hasn’t changed. I came in through the bathroom.”

Her eyes flicked over his shoulder to the closet. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“And...now what?”