the front of the place. The man calling himself Davis Sinclair lived as if he was expecting danger to show up at his door any moment.
The house was three stories and enormous in stature. Made entirely of full round logs, it looked as if it could withstand quite a few Colorado winters. She noticed surveillance cameras positioned to capture every possible angle of the house. Massive amounts of firewood were stockpiled along both sides of the porch. The place looked like a compound and about as impenetrable as the White House.
A trickle of unease ran through her and she uttered a silent prayer asking for God’s reassurance that she was doing the right thing. With everything she had gone through, she couldn’t let down her guard for a second. She was at the mercy of a man with secrets and could be walking into a trap.
Her boots slipped on the porch and he reached out to steady her. His large, muscular arms circled her waist and drew her close. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Just for a second she stilled. She was so tired and he was so strong. If she inched in just a little bit, she could lean in to his strength.
Reyna pulled away and gave herself a mental shake. His arms dropped to his side. No matter how desperate she felt or how much she might want to trust him, her life was at stake. He unlocked the house and stepped inside, yet Reyna hesitated. She stood in the entrance, surrounded by darkness, the only light coming from a dying fire in the fireplace. She wouldn’t go inside until she knew what she was facing in there.
He seemed to read all her uncertainties, because he flipped on the overhead light, illuminating the room. No one waited inside to take her into custody. There was nothing scary or out of the ordinary. Just the evidence of a house occupied by one person.
Reyna slowly stepped in and closed the door. He stopped by the fireplace but stood quietly watching her, as if trying to gauge her threat level. Neither one trusted the other just yet.
She glanced around. Reyna had to admit, the room itself was impressive. The ceiling vaulted up to what looked like at least fourteen feet above them. A massive stacked-stone fireplace was the showpiece of the room. Windows facing out toward the drive would enable him to see for miles. No one was coming up to the house unannounced. None of which eased her fears one little bit. Who was he expecting to come after him?
Reyna stole a glance his way. He was still sizing her up. The overhead antler chandelier bathed the room in soft light and she was able to get her first good look at the man she believed to be Jase Bradford. He was incredibly tall and powerfully built, his collar-length blond hair swept back from his face, and he sported a neatly trimmed beard slightly darker than his hair. He was rugged in an outdoorsy, mountain-man way and had the most intense midnight-blue eyes she’d ever seen.
“There are a couple of bedrooms upstairs. You can take your pick. Sheets are clean and there’s a spare bath at the end of the hall. Towels are in the linen closet.”
Reyna didn’t budge. If he was really and truly the man she believed him to be, she needed answers as to why he’d lied to her. He might just have saved her life, but that didn’t mean she trusted him.
“You asked me why I was out on the road tonight and I told you, but what about you? You said yourself the weather was terrible. It had obviously been snowing for hours. Why risk running off the road as I did or get stranded out there alone?”
The corner of his mouth turned up in what passed for a smile. “I’m not the enemy here, Reyna.” Chills sped up her spine at his gravelly tone.
She lifted her chin. “And that’s not really an answer. Stop playing games with me. I know you’re lying about who you are.”
His body grew rigid in response, but he didn’t say anything.
“When Eddie first told me he didn’t believe you were dead, I thought maybe he was suffering from PTSD or something similar. He certainly showed all the classic symptoms. Still, the obvious reason not to believe was that both Eddie and I were at the memorial ceremony for you.”
She stared straight at him. “During those last few days before Eddie returned to duty, he kept insisting you faked your death because someone was trying to wipe out all the original members of the Scorpion team. He told me if anything happened to him and someone came to the house asking questions I should find you. Then I come here and I find someone who looks similar to Jase Bradford, who has the same limp as Eddie’s description of your injuries indicated, and suddenly I’m starting to believe that my husband was right all along.”
She waited for him to deny it. He didn’t, and her heart dropped to her stomach. A single muscle flexing in his jaw was his only reaction, a telltale sign that what she said made him uncomfortable.
After a handful of seconds ticked by. He turned away, gathered a couple of pieces of wood stacked next to the fireplace and then tossed them angrily onto the fire.
It was then that she saw it. The last piece of the puzzle that confirmed the truth. He had a scorpion tattoo on the inside of his left wrist. Eddie possessed the same tattoo. He’d told her the entire team had them. It was sort of a rite of passage. There would be only one reason this man would have it. He was the leader of the CIA’s Scorpion team.
Shivers racked through her, rendering her breathless.
She was right. This was Jase Bradford.
* * *
Reyna looked as if she’d suffered a terrible shock. She had turned deathly pale and was staring at his wrist. She’d seen the tattoo. He regretted again his foolishness in keeping it.
While he tried to come up with a plausible denial, she dug into her pocket, pulled out a photo and held it out for him to see.
He never broke eye contact. “What’s that?” he hedged.
“You tell me,” she said, and shoved it closer into his line of sight.
He took it from her. It was a grainy photo taken a short time before the attack. He remembered the day they’d posed for it as if it was yesterday. His arm rested around Abby’s waist. Eddie was standing next to Jase. Charlie, Brady and Steve Douglas in the background. The picture had been taken on Eddie’s phone by the fifth member of their team. Their Afghanistan guide, Benjahah.
He stared at the phantoms in the photo. They had been invincible back then. They’d liberated a small village from a Taliban stronghold that day, each member of the team so full of life and promise. It was only Eddie’s second mission with the team, yet already he’d become like one of the gang. Now they were all dead with the exception of him.
He glanced from the photo to Reyna. “Where did you get this?”
“I found it inside Eddie’s laptop bag. It’s true. Don’t deny it. You are the person in that photo. You are Jase Bradford. I wasn’t completely sure until I saw the tattoo.” She grabbed his wrist and turned it up for them both to see.
He closed his eyes. Over the past three years, he’d thought about having it removed over a dozen times. But in the end, he’d kept the scorpion tattoo as a constant reminder of the woman he’d loved and the friends who had lost their lives instead of him.
“Eddie had one just like it. He told me everyone on the team got the same tattoo. It was like some sort of bond between you all. He was so excited to get his. So proud to join the elite Scorpions. So honored to work with you.”
He couldn’t move. Her
