Bear Claw Lawman. Jessica Andersen

been, though Jenn couldn’t be sure. Things were getting fuzzy all of a sudden, like a gray mist closing in on her.

      “Send a couple of uniforms with her,” Nick said flatly. “And have Alyssa or one of the others meet her there. I don’t want… Hell, she should have a friendly face waiting.”

      Jenn didn’t know why he sounded angry but couldn’t worry about it just then, as the paramedics transferred her to the waiting stretcher. She moaned as the world around her began a big, sickening spin.

      Nick took a couple of steps toward them. “Damn it, don’t—”

      “It’s okay.” She waved him off, gritting her teeth and forcing herself to cling to consciousness and not give in to the nausea. “I’m…I’m fine.” Or she would be fine once she got out of here, got someplace dark and quiet, where she could be alone and process everything that had happened—and chill out enough to remember the rest. The memories had to be in there, they had to be.

      She didn’t know whether she had seen the Investor himself or one of his underlings, but it was an important break, a crucial turn in the case…if only she could remember what her attacker had looked like, what he had said. Had he asked her about the evidence? He must’ve come back for something specific, but what?

      “Go on,” Tucker said to the paramedics. To her, he added, “I’ll have Alyssa meet you there. Gigi, too, if she’s free.”

      “Thanks,” she said softly. But it was Nick she reached out toward, though she didn’t make contact. “Thank you for chasing him off. Lucky break or not, I owe you one.”

      “You don’t owe me a damn thing.” His expression was unreadable, his body utterly still. “I should’ve gone after him, should’ve caught him.”

      “I should be able to remember what he looks like. We don’t always get what we want.”

      And he was exhibit A on that little fact of life, wasn’t he? Because even with her woozy and concussed—or maybe because of those things—she was very aware of the imprint his body had left on hers, and the way her clothes now smelled slightly of him, a mix of new leather and his own uniquely masculine scent. She wanted to inhale him, remember him. But he wasn’t the one she was supposed to be remembering, was he?

      He had been the one to point out the memory gap to Tucker, but now he softened a little, saying gruffly, “Give it time. It’ll come back.”

      * * *

      B UT J ENN ’ S MEMORY OF THE attack didn’t come back. It didn’t magically return that afternoon as she submitted to a battery of tests and grudgingly agreed to spend the night for observation, all too aware that there was a uniformed officer at the door. And it didn’t come back later that night when she lay in the not-very-dark room, staring at the shadowy pieces of hospital equipment and trying to force the memories to return.

      She remembered coming into the apartment and seeing the blood, the ropes, the chair, Gigi…then nothing. It wasn’t even that she was fuzzy on the details, or her mind had been frozen in fear. She just didn’t remember. Her world skipped from telling Gigi there wasn’t anything between her and Nick anymore, and then waking up practically in his arms.

      Unfortunately, every time she got to that part, she remembered all too well other times that she’d woken up in his arms. Then, when she deliberately steered her mind away from that, she skipped back to the attack, and how she owed him her life. If he hadn’t walked into Dennison’s apartment when he did, she’d probably be dead now. And that was a hell of a thought. As was knowing that she’d probably seen the Investor’s face, making her a valuable witness…and possibly, as far as the killer was concerned, a loose end.

      So it was no real surprise that she tossed and turned as if it was an Olympic sport and she was going for the gold, until the painkillers and her body’s need to heal overrode her churning thoughts and she finally conked out.

      She slept poorly and woke near dawn, but felt a heck of a lot better than she had. She could see out of her right eye and move without wanting to whimper or throw up, and that was a huge relief. Still, a few hours later when Tucker, Nick, Gigi and Maya all filed in past the uniformed guard, she could only shake her head, answering the question before it was asked. “No, I haven’t remembered anything new. I’m sorry.” Then, seeing their expressions—different mixes of anger and sympathy—she added, “And don’t look at me like that. I’m fine. The doctors said so.”

      She didn’t look fine, though. She’d seen herself in the mirror, bruised and battered, with a bandage at her hairline where they’d glued the gash shut rather than stitching it. And she’d seen Nick’s wince when he’d first looked at her…and then looked away.

      “Don’t push yourself,” Maya advised. “Post-concussion syndrome is nothing to mess around with. You might feel okay now, but if you overdo it you could set yourself back, or worse.” Trim and petite in dark wool pants and a soft, creamy sweater, the exotic brunette could’ve been a model. She wasn’t, though; she was the Bear Claw P.D.’s resident psych expert. Which made her Jenn’s next best hope.

      “Help me,” she said, reaching out to her coworker from where she sat on the edge of the bed, wearing the yoga pants and hooded sweatshirt Gigi had brought from her apartment. “I don’t care what it takes. Drugs, hypnosis, I’ll do anything.”

      “You can do yourself a favor by not rushing things,” Maya said. “We can try hypnosis later. For now, just relax.”

      “How can I?” She gestured to the window. The view of the parking lot wasn’t terribly scenic, but beyond the cars rose the skyline of Bear Claw City, and beyond that the mountains. “He’s out there killing people. I need to do whatever I can to help bring him down.”

      “Trust me, it’s not worth killing yourself over this one case,” Nick said bluntly. He didn’t say especially when it’s not even your hometown. She’d bet he was thinking it, though, given that he’d said similar things when they’d been together, as if to remind her that he was just passing through.

      Should’ve listened. Now, though, she narrowed her eyes in his direction. “This is the case for Bear Claw, Detective. Hopefully there won’t be another one like it here, ever. And I’m not trying to grandstand, here, I’m just trying to be part of the team.”

      His expression flattened. “You’ve earned your place. You don’t need to keep earning it.”

      That hit close enough to make her wince, especially when he wasn’t one of the ones who would be reviewing her probation…but Tucker was. “I’m not trying to impress anyone. I’m just trying to do my job.”

      “Which doesn’t include you needing to solve the case single-handedly.”

      Jenn was sucking in a breath to retort when Tucker said mildly, “She’s not trying to fling herself into the middle of a firefight, Lang, so dial it down.” He cut a look at Jenn. “Both of you, take a breath and keep the personal stuff out of this, okay?” His tone was mild, but there was an undercurrent of steel, a subtle reminder that he was the boss here.

      “But I wasn’t…” She subsided, though, because Tucker had a point—she might’ve had the same debate with him or another of her teammates, but there wouldn’t have been the same sort of emotion behind it: frustration, annoyance and the need to prove herself, not to her bosses, but to Nick.

      Except that she was over him, damn it.

      Letting out a sigh, she shook her head. “Sorry. You’re right. I’ll chill.” And not just because her head was suddenly throbbing once more, her face gone sore and tender. “But I’m not backing off. I want to get these memories back and help get this guy, and his drugs, off the streets of my new city.”

      Besides, closing the case would mean that Nick would leave Bear Claw for good and she could get her mind back where it belonged—on the job, and eventually on finding a nice, uncomplicated guy for a nice, uncomplicated relationship with no manipulation, no heartbreak and no nasty