know until you remember who you are. And it’s doubtful we’ll find that out without help.”
“No police.” The protest was out of her mouth before she even thought the words. The very idea of talking with the police was enough to turn the coffee in her empty stomach to bile.
“They might recognize you.”
“Why?”
Leo smiled, but for the first time, there didn’t seem to be any humor behind it. “You’re not from around here, Jane. Your clothes, your hands. Your hair. You. You don’t live a rancher’s life. And around this part of Roaring Springs, that would make you stand out. I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t think you’re a country girl. There.” He pressed his fingers against the bandages. “Now, let’s see your feet.” He scooted his chair back and patted his thighs. “Up.”
“Um. Okay.” She drew her feet up and did as he requested. The second his hands landed on her feet, she shivered. Strong, determined fingers examined the soles, pressing and checking for open wounds. “How bad?”
“Not as bad as I thought. You’re going to want to stay off them for a day or so. Let them heal a bit.” He repeated the process he had with her head, cleaning the scrapes with alcohol before applying ointment and covering them with gauze that he secured with tape. “What’s this?” He angled her left foot to the side, narrowed his eyes as his fingers gently grazed her skin.
She shook her head, that sick fear clogging her throat.
“They look like finger marks.”
Jane squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to shake. “I know,” she whispered. But that was all she could manage. Watching him, she took comfort in the shift of expressions over his face. Concern gave way to curiosity, which sharpened to anger at her words. But his touch didn’t change. The featherlight pressure of his fingers danced along her skin like a healing balm.
“Those socks should help.” He picked up the pair of thick, white socks from the table. “Besides, you shouldn’t be moving around with a head injury. We’ll give it a day or so, see how you’re feeling, then discuss what comes next.”
“What comes next?” Panic dropped over her again like a blanket.
“People are bound to be missing you, Jane. They’re bound to be worried. If you aren’t going to let me go to the police or take you to the hospital, then we’ll have to find those people ourselves.”
“Or I could just stay here.” Here, in this pretty little country kitchen with sunflower curtains over the windows and a collection of teapots behind one of the glass-door cabinets.
“You mean hide,” Leo corrected. He slipped the socks on her feet, gave her ankles a quick pat, then placed her feet back on the floor. “Wrist, please.”
“Lord, I’m such a mess.” She winced, remembering the feel of that saw blade scraping against her skin. “He was going to come back.”
Leo’s hand stilled for a moment before carefully dabbing at the scratches. “Who was?”
“He. They. Whoever left me in that shed.” And just like that, the anxiety and terror she felt when she’d first come to overtook the panic at the thought of leaving. “As soon as I woke up, as soon as I realized what was happening, I knew whoever took me was coming back.”
“Tell me what you remember about where you were.”
“Mmm.” Jane frowned and wished she’d get used to that stinging sensation coating her skin, but the pain was offset by Leo’s tender touch. “It was an old shed. One window. One door. I’d been tied up. Obviously.” She lifted her hand as proof.
“Rope.” He traced a finger over the burns among the cuts. “Not duct tape. Interesting.”
“Why? Duct tape might have been easier to cut through.”
“Maybe. What was in the shed?”
“Garden tools. A lawn mower, shovels. That kind of thing.” Her mind raced back there. “And old woodworking tools, too. The door wouldn’t open.”
“So you broke through the window.” He reached behind himself for a pair of tweezers.
“How did you—Ow!”
He plucked a tiny shard of glass out of the side of her wrist and held it up for her to see. “Glad there weren’t any in your feet.”
“Me, too.” She watched him examine every inch of her hands and wrists and forearms. “You sure you aren’t a doctor?” She felt her face warm again, and wished she didn’t sound like a teenager with a crush.
“I did some emergency first aid up in Alaska over the years. Nothing major, but what you learn sticks. Most of the time.”
“So you aren’t a rancher? But I thought—”
“I am now.” He rubbed a soothing salve into her skin before wrapping her wrists in gauze. “This was my grandparents’ place. They passed last year, so now it’s mine.”
“The pictures in the bedroom.” Jane looked behind her toward the photographs she could see perched on the dresser. She’d glanced at them earlier. An older, laughing couple. A young woman holding a grinning baby she assumed was Leo. A man, a more intense version of Leo, standing in full military uniform. “Your family.”
“Yes. My grandmother Essie showed us off at every opportunity. One thing that isn’t lacking in this house is photographs.” Even the smallest smile lit up Leo’s face. “Every celebration, every get-together, we had to take photos.”
“What about your parents? Did they not want to take over the ranch?”
“My mother died when I was little. My father was in the army for most of my childhood, so I lived here when he was deployed.” He cleaned up the kit, threw away the garbage, washed his hands and dropped a few slices of toast into the toaster. “He served three tours in the first Gulf War. I was supposed to go live with him when he was discharged, but he came back...different. So he moved in here with us. Until he died.”
The thought that Leo Slattery was alone in the world, that he’d lost all his family, pierced something inside her. “I’m so sorry, Leo.”
“It’s life.” He didn’t shrug, didn’t try to make light of it, but what he said rang true. “Bad things happen, Jane. To all of us. It’s how we deal with it that matters.”
She resisted the urge to squirm in her chair. “It’s a bit early in our friendship for you to be sending subliminal messages. I’m not going to the police.” The very idea still made her shudder.
“It wasn’t subliminal if you got it.” The grin he tossed her eased the uncertainty that continued to course through her. “Maybe you didn’t take such a big whack on the head after all.”
“Oh, I think I did.” In fact, the headache was coming back full force. “What painkillers do you have in that magic box of yours?”
“Let’s get some food into you first. Don’t want an upset stomach on top of everything else.” He set a plate of eggs
