Rebecca Zanetti - Forgotten Sins

“Why not?” Her hand cramped around the gun. She should put the weapon in her purse, but that seemed unwise. Just in case.

Matt shrugged. Standing, he seemed even taller than Shane, who stood to six foot three.

She faced Nathan. “You’re really in the FBI?”

“No.” Nathan grabbed a California driver’s license out of the wallet and studied the plastic.

“I don’t understand. Why do you have so many fake credentials?” Unease began to make her head pound. Who were these guys?

Nathan yanked a large handgun from the back of his waistband and tossed the weapon to Matt. “I shouldn’t be armed.”

Matt placed it on the scarred table holding the rickety television. “We can’t really explain. Shane trusts you, so we’re letting you know this much. But the less you know, the safer Shane is.” He turned to Nathan. “Good luck.”

Nathan nodded. “I brought a suit—it’s in the car.” With a wink at Josie, he dodged out the door.

Silence. Alone with Matt, Josie turned to take him in. “So, you’re Mattie.”

He crossed his arms over a broad chest. “That’s me.”

“Does Shane love me, or what?”

The smell of the interrogation room set neurons firing in Shane’s brain. Antiseptic. Fear. Blood. He rested his elbows on the hard metal of the bolted-down table, his hands handcuffed before him. In less than a minute, he could have them off.

The dingy green walls closed in on him, and he again counted the rate of buzzing from the fluorescent light above him. Two cameras were hidden in the ceiling, also emitting a low frequency.

Memories.

A room like this. A large man, buzz cut, dead eyes. Telling him if he lost again, he’d go to the other camp. Disappear like those other kids.

A training field. Hard packed and dusty. Boys, his age, fighting hand to hand. With knives.

Barracks. Beds for growing boys. His brother Matt teaching him how to block a side attack.

The door banged open, ripping Shane back to the present. Malloy stepped inside, followed by another man wearing a navy blue suit and bold power tie.

Malloy tilted his head. “Your lawyer is here, Major Dean.”

Shane lifted an eyebrow, keeping his face blank. His stomach clenched hard. Memories shot like spikes of glass through his brain. His brother wasn’t a lawyer. But his brother was there.

His brother brushed past the detective, taking a seat next to Shane. “Whatever my client said without counsel is irrelevant.”

Malloy snorted, chomping his gum. He reached down and unlocked the cuffs, twirling them in the air. “No worries, counselor. Your client hasn’t uttered one peep since we brought him in three hours ago.” The door clanged shut as he stomped out.

Shane turned toward the man. The past slammed hard into his gut. His brother. Breathing hurt suddenly. “Nathan.”

Nathan nodded. “Yes. Nathan Jones, your attorney.” He peered closer. “Major Dean, how’s the head?”

Memories rippled through Shane’s brain—so many, so fast. Triggered by his brother. He swayed. “Great.” Nathan teaching him to pick a lock. Times they’d spent together growing up, the time he helped Nathan in a knife fight. Blood spraying. For one second Shane wondered if he could trust Nathan. Instinct and memories comingled into a desperate yes. His brothers were the only people he could trust.“Memories filtering in fast.”

Nathan’s eyes lightened. “Good. Good to know.” He eyed the ceiling. “So. I checked at the desk, and you haven’t been formally processed yet.”

Shane nodded. That was good considering they’d have to steal his prints back if he had been. His skull pounded as the dam holding his life back released. “I assume it’s a matter of time?”

“No.” Nathan flipped open a small smartphone to read the screen. “My firm is in touch with the prosecuting attorney’s office. They don’t have a case, and you should be let go soon.”

“Think so?”

Nathan shut the phone. “Well, you did save Mr. Marsh and Mrs. Dean from two attackers. You were defending your spouse when you took the gun from Mr. Marsh and were forced to render him unconscious. Temporarily, of course.”

“Of course.” Flashbacks. Nathan had always been able to spin the bullshit with the best of them. Warmth settled beneath Shane’s rib cage that he remembered his brother. His life was coming back. “Where’s my wife?”

Nathan pushed back from the table, his hands tapping the arm of the chair. “I’m sorry. I have no knowledge of your wife.”

Shane counted the taps. Morse code. Josie was safe with Matt.

Matt?

Yeah, Matt. His oldest brother, the one who’d taught him to fight. Shane’s breath whooshed out, and he blinked against light-headedness. Tears tried to prick the backs of his eyes. He remembered. He wasn’t alone.

So he cleared his throat, trying to clear his head. “Yeah, well, I figure she’s about done with me. After this arrest and all.” He relaxed his shoulders and gave a small shrug. The woman had better not even think of being done with him. She was his life, and no way was he letting her go again.

Nathan narrowed his eyes, stopping his tapping. “Yes, well, that probably would be best. Considering the danger you’ve put her in.”

If Shane had a “screw you” smile, he gave it to his brother. “Speaking of such, any clue why danger is following me?”

“No, sorry.” Nathan had a pretty decent “screw you” smile as well. “Of course, I’m just your lawyer. You don’t tell me everything.” The door opened, and he cleared his throat, straightening when a tall woman in a sexy red cocktail dress clicked stilettos across the floor.

She sat across from them. “Gentlemen.” Her black hair had been swept away from pale skin smattered with freckles. “I’m Cynthia Miller, the prosecuting attorney. The chief of police dragged me out of one hell of a party.”

Nathan smoothed down his silk tie. “Nathan Jones here for Major Dean. I do apologize, Ms. Miller. Our client here, well, he should be let go. Or charged.” The smile Nathan flashed was all teeth and dare.

Malloy lumbered in, dropping his bulk into a chair next to the prosecutor. “I have a victim willing to press charges.”

Nathan tsked his tongue. “You have a spurned lover who was pissed-off my client saved the girl while Marsh ended up on his ass.” He cleared his throat. “Begging your pardon, ma’am.”

Green eyes flashed. “I know what an ‘ass’ is, Mr. Jones.” Her tone made it perfectly clear she considered him one. She cleared her throat. “I assume the woman is willing to testify?”

Nathan sat forward. “She’s willing to testify Tom pulled a gun on Shane, who just defended himself. Then she went willingly with him.”

Cynthia narrowed her gaze on Shane. “Major?”

He cleared his throat. “The two men I took out meant harm. I didn’t kill them and merely trussed them up for the police.” He pinned Malloy with a hard glare. “Marsh pulled out a gun. Josie was too close to the barrel; I thought she might get hurt. I disarmed him, he struggled, and I knocked him out for a brief time. No damage, not even a bruise.”

Cynthia sighed. “There’s no case here, Detective.” She stood and glanced at an antique watch around a rather delicate wrist. “Let him go.”

“But—” Malloy pushed back from the table, his chair scraping across the hard concrete.

“But nothing.” She opened the door. “You want to take a decorated marine to trial for saving his wife from two attackers and a spurned boyfriend with a gun. If something else comes up, charge him. Right now, there’s nothing here to take to trial. Let him go.”

Malloy stood, his gaze hard on Shane. “Looks like you lucked out again, Dean.” He tapped files against his hand. “Leave town. For once, be a decent guy and let that little girl go. She’s better off without you.” His jaw hardened.

Shane straightened his shoulders and stood. “I’m never letting her go, Malloy.” He pivoted and followed his brother from the room.

Josie fought the urge to thump her head against her desk. Now she had to convince three larger-than-life jackasses she needed to go to work. There was suddenly way too much testosterone in her life.

The good news was that since Shane had been freed, he could openly bring her to work. No more hiding. Which was good because she disliked lying to her coworkers. But it was bad, because the man sat sprawled in her guest chair, gray eyes focused solely on her.

“Shane. You need to leave so I can get some work done.” Either that, or toss his sexy ass on the desk and have her way with him. Again.

He steepled his fingers under his chin. “So. You and Mattie had quite the discussion, I take it?”

Heat filled her face. “I had some questions.” She leaned forward, her elbows on the desk. “Are you remembering your life?”

“Yes.” His eyes betrayed nothing. “There are many blanks, but the holes are filling in—though my brothers have some explaining to do.”

The veiled expression was one she knew well. Apparently the real Shane was returning… the one who couldn’t trust her with reality or with the truth. She bit back a hurt sigh. “They haven’t explained everything?”

“Not yet. We’re all scrambling right now, but I plan to pin them down soon.”

She nodded. “Don’t you have a follow-up visit scheduled with the doctors?”

“No.” He stretched his long legs out and crossed them at the ankles. “What did you talk about with Matt?”

“I asked him if you loved me and why you left.” She had no doubt Matt had already given Shane the rundown. She had absolutely no reason to lie.