Roughshod Justice. Delores Fossen

her mouth, which was trembling a little. “I honestly don’t know if I shot them or not. They’re dead?”

      He nodded, though the confirmation might not have even been necessary. Because she might already know the answer. “Who were they?”

      An immediate head shake that time. So fast that the medic told her to keep still. “I don’t know that, either,” Kelly answered. Her gaze came to Jameson’s again. “Did you send them after me?”

      There it was again—her distrust of him. Well, the feeling was mutual. “Let’s get something straight. I didn’t send thugs after you. I’m not here to kill you. Everything I’ve told you has been the truth, but you can’t say the same, can you?”

      She stared at him. “You’re talking about that file you mentioned to the sheriff. I don’t remember it. I need to remember,” she added as she choked back a hoarse sob. “Because I have to know who you really are and why this is happening.”

      He huffed again. “I’m really Jameson Beckett, Texas Ranger,” he supplied. “Now, start from the beginning. Tell me everything you know, everything you remember.”

      “I remember them,” she said, glancing at Chip and the other EMTs. “And the sheriff. Someone swabbed my hands.”

      That was a good start, but nowhere near what he wanted. “What do you recall before that?” Jameson pressed. “Before the sheriff and the EMTs arrived.”

      Kelly stayed quiet for several moments. “I remember the pain in my head. Being on the ground. It was damp. And I saw the blood.” She stopped, her gaze going to his again. “What did the sheriff mean when he said there’s a bad history and more between us?”

      Well, there was nothing wrong with her short-term memory, that was for certain. Jameson didn’t answer her, but he thought she understood what he wasn’t saying because she muttered a simple response.

      “Oh.” Then she groaned. “Oh, God.” The tears filled her eyes again. “But it doesn’t make sense.”

      “I agree. Not much about this makes sense, but you mean something specific. What exactly?” When she didn’t answer, Jameson added another question, one that was at the top of his list of things he wanted to know. “If you don’t remember anything, why did you keep asking for me?”

      “Because of this.” She moved her hand to the front of her shirt. Then stopped. “I need to show you something, and I don’t want you to shoot me.”

      “Is it another gun or knife?” he growled. Because he was pretty sure his brother would have found something like that when he frisked her.

      “No. It’s a message.”

      Everything inside Jameson went still. “What kind of message?”

      Her hands were shaking when she unbuttoned her top. Some of the blood had soaked through to her chest, too, and that’s why it took Jameson a moment to see the small piece of paper that she took from her bra. She unfolded it, the trembling in her hands getting even worse, and she showed it to him.

      What the heck?

      Jameson drew his gun. “Explain that,” he demanded, tipping his head to the note.

      Or rather the threat.

      Kill Jameson Beckett or you’ll never see her again.

       Chapter Two

      Kelly hadn’t been sure what Jameson’s reaction would be, but she’d known it wouldn’t be good. And it wasn’t.

      The anger flared through those already-intense blue eyes.

      Eyes that she wished she could remember.

      There was something about him that tugged at her. Attraction, probably. He was a hot cowboy after all. But there seemed to be something else. Something that she wished would become clearer in her muddled mind. Clearer because the last thing she wanted to do was kill this man.

      He was glaring at her now, but still she studied him. Hoping there was something about him that would trigger a memory. He was tall and lanky. Dark brown hair like his brother. The family resemblance was there as well, but it wasn’t a resemblance that caused her to recall anything other than what’d happened to her in the past half hour or so.

      “Who wrote that message?” Jameson snarled. He snapped a picture of it with his phone and sent the photo to someone. Probably the sheriff. Then, taking the note just by the edge, he snatched it from her and put it on the seat next to him.

      Kelly buttoned up her top. She definitely didn’t want to sit there with her bra exposed. “I don’t know who wrote it or how I got it.”

      That was the truth. And it was something she figured she’d be saying a lot tonight. She prayed this memory loss was temporary. Prayed, too, that her injuries weren’t so serious that she couldn’t get the heck out of there ASAP. Other than the attraction she was feeling toward Jameson, she knew in her gut that it wasn’t safe to be here.

      Plus, there was the “her” in the message.

      It was obvious someone—a woman—was in danger.

      “I think it could mean my sister,” she added. “That’s why I had you try to call her. Could you try again, please?”

      He glared at her, hesitated, but he did fire off a text to someone. Kelly had no memories of Mandy, but if those dead men had taken her, their comrades could be holding her somewhere.

      Waiting for Kelly to do what they’d demanded and kill Jameson.

      “If you really have amnesia,” Jameson went on, still snarling, “how did you know that message was there?”

      “I just knew.” It was an answer that obviously didn’t please him, because he cursed. “Why would someone want you dead?” she asked.

      Jameson gave her another of those flat, scowled looks. “I’m a Texas Ranger, and I’ve put a lot of people in jail. One of them might not be happy about that.”

      Yes, it could be that. But she had the feeling there was more to it. Jameson confirmed that several seconds later.

      “My family has been getting threatening emails and letters.” His jaw clenched. “Threats connected to my parents, who were murdered ten years ago. The killer is in a maximum security prison, but someone has been sending out these sick messages to taunt us.” He tipped his head to the note. “Messages like that one.”

      “Is there a her in any of those emails or letters?” she asked.

      “No. But that doesn’t mean it’s not from the same person. Are you the one threatening us, Kelly?”

      She tried to pick through the tornado in her head but couldn’t latch onto anything. Other than the pain. “I don’t think so. No,” she amended. She didn’t want to harm Jameson. Didn’t want to harm anyone. She just wanted to figure out what the heck was going on. “Was I connected to your parents’ murders, to their killer?”

      Now it was his turn to shake his head. “Not to the murders but to August Canton. His brother is the one who was convicted of killing my folks. August somehow convinced you of his brother’s innocence, so you were looking for anything to help with the appeals. You stole from me to do that.”

      Yes, she’d heard the conversation that he’d had with his brother about the stolen file. Again, no memory, and it didn’t seem like something she would have done. Especially steal from a man who’d likely been her lover.

      Kelly repeated August Canton’s name, hoping it would trigger something. It didn’t. “I don’t remember him, either. Could any of this be linked to August or his brother?”

      “Not Travis, because he’s in jail.” Then he paused. “But even if August or he managed to