your days off, yeah,” she said. “I guess you’re a lot cooler than you thought.”
He rolled to a stop along the curb and checked the street both ways. Then he settled his gaze on her, and she fought to suppress a tug somewhere deep inside. Tyler’s crystal-clear eyes, neither gray nor blue but somewhere in between, had taken her breath away the very first time she’d seen them. And they had never lost their ability to draw her in. The sheriff was beyond handsome, with his sandy-brown hair, matching stubble and olive skin. She could scarcely believe it when he had shown an interest in her. She had so wanted him to be her Mr. Right, but it wasn’t meant to be, and she had never dropped her guard long enough for him to get close. She infuriated him with her sometimes reckless attitude. Yet Tyler had no true idea why she liked to feel adrenaline course through her veins. He knew of her cancer history, but she had never divulged its profound effect on her. She didn’t want his pity. She didn’t want anyone’s pity. She just wanted to feel normal.
“Come inside with me,” he said, searching through his keys to find the one that would fit the lock.
“Take the car around back,” she said. “You keep a key underneath a stone in the backyard. I know where it is.”
“You seem to know a lot about me, Joanna. An awful lot.”
“I guess that’s a good thing right now.”
“I guess so. Stay alert and let’s keep quiet. We’ll take some essentials and hit the road.”
“Where will we go?”
“I haven’t figured out that part yet,” he said, starting up the car again and navigating around his motorcycle in the driveway, heading to the back of the house. “I can only take this one step at a time.”
* * *
Tyler was disappointed at the décor in his home. The living room was filled with hand painted, vintage-style wooden furniture, the kind he’d grown up with in his grandmother’s house, and the chairs around the fireplace were high backed and upholstered in floral fabric. It was a home that oozed simple Southern charm, yet the style seemed so unlike anything he would choose.
Joanna must have noted the look of surprise on his face. “Laura from the furniture store picked out most of these pieces for you,” she said. “You told her you wanted a home just like the one you grew up in.”
“I did?” he said, looking around, noticing familiar items from his past dotted here and there. One item in particular caught his eye: a photograph of six smiling men, his buddies on the last mission he recalled—Dark Skies. That was where he belonged. He was a SEAL. This home was all wrong for him. There was even a Christmas tree in the corner of the room, decorated with silver stars. He never normally bothered with festive decorations. He gave thanks for the gift of God’s son each year, but the adornments of the season had never held sway over him.
“What do you want me to do?” Joanna asked, snapping him out of his daze. “We have to be quick.”
He headed for the stairs. “I’m going to change out of this uniform. Do you know if I have a gun cabinet?”
“Yes. You keep the key on a chain in the closet.”
“Good. Get the key, find a bag and take everything in that cabinet. Then pack some food. We might need it.”
He took the stairs two at a time and walked in through the first door he saw. It was the bathroom.
“How can I not remember my own house?” he muttered, taking the next doorway along, leading into a bedroom that he knew must be his. A large picture hung above the bed showing the insignia of the SEALs: an eagle holding a navy anchor, a trident and a flintlock-style pistol. Underneath the insignia were the words The Only Easy Day Was Yesterday, one of the many mottos of the SEALs. Yes, this was his private space.
He found some jeans and a sweatshirt in the closet and discarded his uniform, instantly feeling better for having freed himself of the sheriff’s clothes. They didn’t seem to fit right. He spied a safe in the corner of the room and stopped dead in his tracks. What code would he use? Bending to one knee, he punched in the ID number of his old SEAL unit and smiled as the door beeped open. Inside the safe was a handgun, a cell phone, his passport and an envelope full of cash. His smile grew even wider. It was just like him to be prepared for anything. He placed the items in a large black bag, along with some spare clothes and stood to consider if he had forgotten anything.
He instantly froze when he caught sight of a shadow though the window. A man was attempting to hide behind a tree in his backyard. Tyler broke into a run, dashing down the stairs to check on Joanna. She was waiting in the living room for him, a zipped bag at her feet.
“I packed the things you asked for, but there’s not much food—”
He cut her off. “Somebody’s outside in the yard. We gotta go.”
“Were we followed?”
“It looks that way.” He scanned the room, snatching the motorcycle key from a hook by the front door. He then picked up his bag and slipped his arms through the straps like a backpack. Joanna fastened her bag in the same way, tightening the straps around her slender frame.
“We’ll take the motorcycle,” he said. “If this guy’s got a car, we should be able to outrun him.”
“You want me to drive?” she asked, reaching for the key.
“No.”
“You remember how to ride?”
He flashed a grin. “There are some things you never forget.”
He recalled seeing two helmets on the enclosed porch and retrieved them, handing the smaller one to Joanna and slipping the other over his head. While steering her to the door, he remembered something vital. He quickly doubled back and picked up a framed photo from the bureau. Smashing the glass on the wood, he quickly flicked the picture of his SEAL buddies out of its frame and slipped it into his pocket. If he had to accept that he was no longer a SEAL, he would carry his past around with him.
The air outside had chilled even further, and Tyler felt his heartbeat pick up pace. The helmet he wore fit snugly, and he could hear the sound of his own blood whooshing around his temples. The remains of his headache still pulsed, and he imagined his brain struggling to repair its damaged temporal lobe. How could a chunk of his life be plunged into darkness, while other memories remained as clear as day? His instinct told him that he could trust this beautiful woman by his side, and his heart told him that he cared about her. But he couldn’t be sure. He would need to stay on his guard, just in case he had gotten it badly wrong.
He closed the front door with a soft click and started across the lawn, hoping that the intruder would remain around back until the motorcycle roared to life. A creaking noise caused him to spin quickly. The intruder was at the side of the house, opening the gate that Tyler had bolted behind his cruiser. The pair locked eyes, neither blinking, neither moving for a second or two. He recognized the man’s face. The pockmarked skin and deep-set eyes were familiar, and he knew that under the woolen hat was a bald head.
Joanna grabbed the back of his sweatshirt. “It’s Crusher,” she gasped. “He chased us at the prison.”
Tyler pulled his gun from its holster and raised it. Joanna did the same. With two guns trained on him, Crusher’s eyes widened, and he
