Killer Body

“What’s going on?” She pressed a hand to her eyes, dragging in deep breaths.

“Someone doesn’t like you much.”

She groaned. “I don’t think I ever want to see another pillow. Especially if it’s over my face.”

“Are you okay?” Dawson squatted next to her. “Want me to call the nurse?”

“No, as long as I can breathe, I’m okay.” Deep green eyes blinked open and widened. “Who are you? You aren’t armed with a pillow, are you?” She leaned to the side to peer around him.

“No pillow, just me, Dawson Gray.” He held out his hand. “I’m your bodyguard, and if anyone asks … your fiancé.”

“Bodyguard? Fiancé?” Her green eyes widened. “Which one is it?”

“Officially, your bodyguard.”

Savvy shook her head. “And I didn’t think this day could get weirder. Well, thanks for coming to my rescue.” Her forehead crinkled into a frown and she winced. “Ouch. Remind me not to frown. It hurts.” She looked at the outstretched hand, but didn’t take it. “Should I know you? I mean, you being my fiancé and all.”

“No. We’re meeting for the first time.”

“Good, because I don’t remember you. Still, how could you be my fiancé if I’ve never met you? Am I a mail-order bride or something? I’m confused.” She pushed up on her elbows and closed her eyes. “Is it me, or is the room spinning?”

“It’s definitely you.” He nodded toward her head. “You’ve got a head wound and someone just tried to smother you. I’m sure neither is helping. Other than that, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I think so. Although my legs didn’t give me any warning before they gave out.” Her lips twitched.

“Give yourself a break. You’ve been through a lot by the looks of it.” He shook his head. “If it’s all the same to you, maybe we could get you into the bed.” He scooped his hands beneath her legs and lifted, straightening. For as tall as she was, she couldn’t weigh much over a hundred pounds.

“Hey!” Her eyes widened and she wrapped an arm around his neck. “Not so fast.”

“Sorry.” He laid her back against the pillows and adjusted the hospital gown around her, his fingers brushing against the silky skin of her thigh. What was he doing? Dawson snatched his hand away and stuffed it into his pocket.

Savvy lay still, her face pale. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

The urge to protect hit him so hard, he stepped away. He had no right to be her protector. Qualifications for this job included a proven success rate.

His record stunk. He’d lost his wife, lost a soldier and almost lost his mind. Dawson turned toward the door, retreat foremost in his mind. “Excuse me. I have a call to make.”

“Please,” she called out in a small, scared voice.

The one word halted his forward progress and made him turn back. Big mistake.

She leaned toward him, her wide-eyed gaze darting from him to the door. “Do you have to leave me—” her voice faded, and she shrank back against the sheets “—alone?”

With his hand in his pocket already fishing for his cell phone, he paused. “I’ll be right outside the door. I won’t let anyone past me.”

“Please …” Her fingers plucked at the hospital gown, bunching it, causing the hem to inch up her legs. “I don’t even know how I got here.”

Dawson clutched his cell phone, his brain telling him to leave. Now. But his misguided instincts pulled him back toward the bed and its occupant. “You don’t remember how you got here because you were unconscious.”

Savvy shook her head slowly and winced. “No, it’s worse than that.” Her full, bottom lip trembled and she turned away from his gaze.

Dawson’s chest squeezed tight and he forced himself to hold back—not to reach out to her. The woman needed someone to talk to. That someone was not him. “How so?”

“I don’t remember where I was.” She looked to him with those trusting green eyes. “Can you tell me?”

Dawson sighed. He couldn’t leave her when she looked at him like a lost puppy. Calling himself every kind of fool, he retraced his steps to the foot of her bed. “You were found in an alley behind a bar.”

She reached up to brush away a tear slipping from the corner of one eye, her shoulders straightening. “What bar?”

“The one where you worked.”

A frown lined her forehead and she pressed a hand gently to the bandage on the side of her head, closing her eyes. “I don’t remember working. Are you sure I worked at a bar?” Eyes as green as a forest of pine blinked up at him, the shadows beneath them making her appear more like a waif than a fully grown young woman.

“So they say.” Dawson tore his gaze away from those eyes and glanced toward the door. God, he didn’t want to be responsible for another living soul. The way things were going, Savvy would threaten more than his confidence. The curves of her calves, the swell of her thighs peeking out from the edge of the cotton hospital gown, the way her eyes glittered with unshed tears, spelled disaster to everything male and primal inside him.

She leaned forward and touched his arm. “Tell me something, please.”

“What?” he growled, anxious to get outside the room, away from Savvy and her green-eyed gaze. He had to make a call to Audrey before he made the biggest mistake of his life.

A soft sniff made him freeze.

Two fat tears rolled down Savvy’s cheeks and plopped onto the sheet. “I know your name is Dawson Gray.” Her fingers tightened on his arms convulsively. “Do you know mine?”

She held her breath and waited for his answer.

Dawson’s gaze dropped to where her hand clutched at his sleeve. “Savvy,” he said, his voice hoarse, gravelly, as though he had to strain to say the one word. He cleared his throat. “Your name is Savvy Jones.”

“Savvy.” She let go of his arm and lay back against the pillow, her frown deepening. “Savvy.” She rolled the name off her tongue, closing her eyes and willing her memory to return. The more she tried the more her head pounded. At last she dragged in a deep breath and admitted, “I can’t remember.” She opened her eyes and stared at him through a glaze of moisture. “I can’t remember anything before waking up in the hospital.”

“You’ve had a head injury. The memory lapse could be temporary. At least you didn’t forget the basics.”

She snorted softly. “Basics? I don’t remember my entire life? How old am I? Are my parents alive? Where did I grow up? Am I—” Her gaze dropped to her ring finger and her breath caught in her throat. Was the skin around her ring finger a shade lighter than the rest of her hand? Or was it her imagination? She stared up at him, her heart a big lump in her throat. “Am I married?”

Dawson shrugged. “I don’t know. The D.A. didn’t mention it.”

“The D.A.?” She stared up at him.

“District Attorney Frank Young.” Dawson frowned, clearly uncomfortable with her questions. “The man who hired me to protect you.”

“Why is the district attorney interested in me?”

“He should fill you in when he comes to see you.” He reached in his pocket. “He asked me to call him when you came out from under the sedative.”

“Do you think he’ll know all about me?” She twisted the fingers of her right hand around her left ring finger as though she’d done it before when a ring had been there. “I could be married and not remember it.” Her hands shook and she could barely drag air into her lungs. “I might have family out there worried about me.”

“The D.A. should know.”

Savvy shook her head. “What if he doesn’t?”

“You worked in the bar. Someone there would have to know your family. They would need to be notified about your condition.”

“Yeah …” She eased back against the pillow, her heart slowing to a regular pace, the lump in her throat still a problem. “They would have notified my family … if I had any.”

“Maybe you should rest.” He glanced toward the door.

Savvy wasn’t ready to let him leave, she had so many questions needing answers she refused to let Dawson out of her sight. “How did I get injured?” She touched her fingers to the bandage on the side of her head. “What happened?”

Again, he glanced toward the door. “Let me get the doctor.”

“No!” She grabbed for his sleeve. “Stay with me. Tell me what you know.”

“Look, lady, all I know is that I was hired by the district attorney to play bodyguard to you until you could remember what happened.”

“Did the D.A. tell you what happened?”

“Only that you shot—” Dawson clamped his lips shut for a second before continuing “—received a gunshot wound to the head. You should ask him for the details.”

Savvy gasped, her heart slamming against her chest, beating so fast the wound at her temple throbbed. “Gunshot?” She tried to remember, tried to picture herself in an alley, but couldn’t. She didn’t think she’d ever worked in a bar. And to be shot in an alley behind one? It didn’t feel right. “Who shot me?”

Dawson shifted ever so slightly, but just enough that Savvy could tell he didn’t want to respond. “I don’t know.”

“You know something, or you wouldn’t have hesitated when you answered.” What was he hiding?

Dawson dug in his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “I really need to make a call. Do you mind?”

“Yes, I do mind.” She pinned him with her stare. Now, that felt natural, as if she’d been in some position of authority at one time. “Are you or are you not my bodyguard?”

He hesitated. “The D.A. hired me to protect you.” He glanced down at his phone. “But I’m not the right guy for the job.” He stared at her with chocolate-brown eyes she could fall into. A thick, dark strand of coffee-colored hair fell down over his forehead.

She wanted to reach out to push it back. Instinctively, she trusted him. She had to, she didn’t know anyone else, and he didn’t want to be her bodyguard. “Why?” she asked, her voice softening. Something had him tied in a knot. Worrying about him helped keep panic about herself at bay. “Why do you think you’re the wrong man for the job? You managed to save me from being smothered.”

His hand tightened on the cell phone, his jaw clenching so hard the muscles twitched. “That guy should never have made it into your room.”

“But then you weren’t here yet. And once you got here, you took care of him.” She raised her brows, challenging him to come up with another excuse, which she was certain he would.

“I’ve never been a bodyguard.”

That didn’t matter to her. He knew how to fight and defend. He had to have learned it somewhere. “Were you ever a cop, FBI agent, in the military?”

“Military,” he said tightly.

Savvy pressed on. “Soldier or staffer?”

“Soldier.” He dragged in a deep breath and huffed it out.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “If you were a soldier, you know how to use a gun. You know how to defend yourself and others.”

He grunted, his brown eyes darkening to an inky black. “I’m not the right man for the job.”

“I ask you again, why?” She waited, refusing to let him leave without a reasonable answer, and to her, there wasn’t one.

“Because, damn it, I’m no good at it!” He swung away and stomped toward the door.

“Dawson,” she called out. Savvy’s voice caught on his name, her stomach flip-flopping as the only man she felt she could trust was leaving.

His hand smacked against the solid door, absorbing the force needed to swing it open. “I’m not the right man for this job.”

“Please,” she whispered. “You’re the only person I can trust in a world of strangers.”

“Why me?” he said, his back to her.

“Because you’ve already proven yourself. You’ve saved me once.”

“But that doesn’t mean I can do it again.”

“Maybe not, but I know you’ll try.” Why wouldn’t he turn and face her? What made him so certain he couldn’t handle this job? “I don’t know anyone else,” she said, not too proud to plead.

He turned toward her, his face blank, emotionless. “You don’t know me.”

“Right now, I don’t know anyone.” How could she convince him? The thought of Dawson walking out the door and leaving her alone left her feeling so scared she couldn’t think straight. “I’ll take my chances with you.”

For a long moment, he stared at her, his eyes fierce, his body stiff. Finally, he shrugged. “It’s your life.”

Chapter Three

Dawson paced the length of the tiled floor, careful to keep his footsteps quiet while Savvy slept the afternoon away. With each pass beside her bed, he studied the woman.

Strawberry-blond hair splayed out in a tangle across snow-white sheets. Auburn lashes fanned across pale cheeks where a dusting of freckles gave her the youthful appearance of a teenager. That was all that reminded him of a teen. The proud tilt of full breasts couldn’t be hidden completely by the shapeless hospital gown. Those legs—long, silky smooth and toned—made him think of how they’d feel wrapped around a man’s waist. Lush coral-colored lips could inspire kisses from even the most devout bachelor.

But not Dawson Gray. When he’d lost Amanda, his high-school sweetheart, his wife, the mother of his unborn child, he’d sworn never to walk that path again. He refused to expose himself to that kind of agony again.

Savvy Jones could only ever be a job to him. He’d do well to remember that and not allow her attributes to blind him to the danger surrounding her or the unrest raging in the border town of Laredo.

Dawson stopped in front of the window as the sun slowly sank over the city skyline. A dusty red haze clouded the air as the plump orange globe melted into shades of pink and gray.

District Attorney Young had called to inform him that he’d be by shortly to question the witness.

Dawson glanced over his shoulder at Savvy. He didn’t have the heart to wake her. The police had come and gone, asking Savvy a barrage of questions of which she had few answers. The doctor had made his rounds after consulting with the D.A., still prickly from his run-in with Dawson. But he’d informed Savvy that she would heal quickly, and that she was lucky it had only been a flesh wound. No damage to her skull except for the lump she’d acquired when she’d fallen to the pavement, resulting in a mild concussion. Nevertheless, the hospital staff kept a close eye on her to watch for any brain swelling. If all went well, she’d be allowed to leave the hospital the following morning.

Which introduced a whole new set of complications for Dawson. Where would Savvy go? Would she insist on him tagging along to babysit her? Could he let her step outside the hospital without him to face whatever threat lurked in the shadows of the city?

He’d waited until she was truly asleep before attempting to place a call to Audrey. Despite Savvy’s confidence in him, he still wanted out.

Audrey wasn’t answering her cell or returning Dawson’s call. The assignment stuck until he could get through to the boss and arrange a replacement.

“You didn’t leave,” a gravelly voice said behind him.

Dawson spun in Savvy’s direction. She lay against the pillows, her eyes open, studying him.

“No. I can’t leave until I find a replacement.”

“Thanks.” Her pretty lips twisted. “Nice to know I’m such a burden.” She blinked and stretched, her left arm only going as far as the IV would allow before she dropped it to the sheets. “Would you do me a favor?”

Realizing he was staring, Dawson nodded. “Depends on what it is.”

“I need to see if I can stand on my own two feet.” She pushed the sheets aside and slowly sat up, dragging the IV tube with her.

Dawson hurried forward and gripped her elbow to steady her. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Shouldn’t you wait for a doctor or nurse?”

“No, I need to do this on my own.” Although her face paled several shades, she shook her head. “Just let me get my head on straight.” She leaned against his arm for several long moments, breathing in and out with even, measured breaths.

Dawson stiffened and would have pulled away, but she held on to him, a reminder that she needed help to balance and that he couldn’t release her or she’d fall.

“Okay, I’m ready.” With a little scoot that raised her hospital nightgown daringly high up her thigh, she eased off the side of the bed. “I have to warn you, the last time I tried this, I dropped like a rock.” She laughed, the sound as shaky as the hand she slipped into his.

Hell. Dawson switched hands and wrapped his arm around her waist, the skin peeking through the openings at the back of her hospital gown disturbingly soft and smooth against his forearm.

He helped her find her feet and held her up until she stood flat-footed on the cool tiles.

Her pink toenail polish shone brightly in contrast to the plain white flooring. A sweet, girlie color Dawson wouldn’t expect on a redhead or a strawberry-blonde, but it suited her.

“Got it?” Dawson asked.

She nodded and smiled, her overbright eyes shining up at him. “Funny what you take for granted when you have it. I never would have thought I’d need help standing on my own two feet.” Her smile slipped. “But don’t worry. It’s one step closer to getting you off the hook.” Her mouth pressed into a thin line and she attempted a step forward.

“How’s that?” Dawson moved alongside her, letting her lean into him as much as she needed.

“As soon as I can get around on my own, you won’t need to hang around.”

Dawson frowned. “What about the bad guys trying to kill you?”

“I gave it some thought.” Her gaze shifted away from him to the window. “Once I’m out of here, I’ll be extra careful. I’m sure I can manage just fine.”

“Yeah.” Dawson admired independence, but bravado was just plain stupid. “You think you could fight off a guy like the one who paid you a visit earlier? The one with the pillow and the body mass of a refrigerator?”

Savvy’s entire body shook and she staggered on her next step.

Dawson pulled her close to keep her from falling flat on her face. She felt right against him, her narrow waist snug in his grip, the top of her head fitting just below his chin. Not too short and not too thin. Amanda had been quite a bit shorter than him. So small he’d treated her like a fragile porcelain doll, afraid he’d break her. In the end he had. She’d been too small to deliver their baby. Both Amanda and their baby had died in childbirth.

Dawson’s hands tightened. The guilt he’d lived with for the past two years weighed more heavily than the woman in his arms.

“Hey, you don’t have to hold me so tight. I think I have it now.” Savvy pushed against his chest, leveraging herself into an upright position.

Dawson jerked his hands free and stepped away from Savvy as if she were a red-hot poker, heat rising up his neck from the collar of his shirt.

Savvy cried out, “Wait!” Her knees buckled and she would have fallen if Dawson hadn’t reached out and dragged her back into his arms.

She slammed against his chest, her face buried in his shirt, her hair tickling his nose, soft and silky despite its tumbled disarray.

A low laugh rumbled from her chest, pressing her breasts into him. She finally glanced up. “Guess I wasn’t as ready to be on my own as I thought.” Her fingers bunched in his shirt and she sighed. “I’m still a little light-headed, but I’ll be ready by morning.”

He stared down into eyes so green they rivaled the forests of east Texas. With her body smashed against his, he couldn’t hide the effect she had on him. The hard ridge pushing against his fly nudged against her belly. “Where will you go?”

Savvy’s eyes widened and a peachy-rose flush spread across her cheeks. “I don’t know.” She laughed, a sound completely devoid of humor. “I don’t remember where I live …”

“Oh, good, she’s conscious.” Frank Young blew through the door without knocking, sliding his cell phone shut with one easy, practiced move. “Do you think you can answer some questions for me?”

Dawson slowly turned Savvy around where her bare backside faced the window, not Frank Young’s prying eyes.

Savvy nodded.

Frank’s eyes narrowed and he got right to the point, “Well, then, what do you remember from last night?”

Savvy deadpanned. “Nothing.”

“Nothing whatsoever?” Frank’s brows rose.

“Until Dawson told me, I didn’t even know my name.” If Dawson hadn’t already witnessed the effect of her memory loss on her, he might have missed the quaver in her voice.

The D.A. missed it completely. “I’ll have a talk with the doctor. There has to be a way to get your memory back.”

“Let me save you the effort.” Savvy’s shoulders pushed back, her spine stiffening beneath Dawson’s hand. “He said the amnesia could be temporary or could just as easily be permanent. Only time will tell.”

Young’s eyes narrowed and he stared hard at Savvy. “Are you sure you don’t remember anything?”

Savvy glared at the D.A. “Why would I lie about a thing like that?” She waved at the hospital room. “How would you like to wake up in a hospital room, with strangers, and no idea who or what you are? Try it sometime, although I don’t recommend it.” She nudged Dawson’s arm. “I need to sit.” The hand on his arm shook, but Savvy’s face remained firm and unwavering.

“My apologies, Ms. Jones.” Frank Young’s head dipped toward her. “You might not understand just how important it is that you remember what happened.”

“Since I can’t remember, maybe you can tell me why it’s so important.”

“Ms. Jones, a man was killed in that alley, by the gun the police found in your hand.”

Dawson’s arm tightened around Savvy as he fought the urge to plant a fist in the district attorney’s smug face.

Savvy leaned into him, her face waxy white, making the freckles stand out across her nose and cheeks. “They found a gun in my hand?” She stared down at her right hand and then reached up to touch the gauze circling her head. “Why would I have shot someone? Was he shooting at me?” Her fingers found the lump of bandages over her left temple.

“That’s what we need to know. Why would you shoot Tomas Rodriguez and then shoot yourself?”

Savvy stared up at Dawson, her brows furrowed. “I shot someone then I shot myself?” She shook her head. “Is this true?”

Dawson grabbed her cold hands and held them in his, wishing the D.A. would back off. “That’s the way it appeared.”

“Why do you think I shot someone and myself? There has to be a reason … evidence.”

“When your coworker found you, she reported that you had a gun in your hand.” The D.A. crossed the room and stood directly in front of her, his gaze intense, drilling into hers. “The same one used to shoot yourself in the head and to kill Tomas Rodriguez. The only fingerprints on the weapon are yours.”

Her eyes widened and she stared at Young. “I don’t remember.” She sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, her head swinging from side to side. “I don’t remember anything.”

Frank Young’s lips pursed into a tight line. “I suggest you do something about getting your memory back, Ms. Jones, or you could be tried for the murder of Tomas Rodriguez.”

Savvy looked to Dawson, her eyes searching for answers. “How can I be tried for a murder I can’t remember committing?”

“The evidence is circumstantial,” Dawson said in an attempt to reassure Savvy.

“If my fingerprints are on the murder weapon, the evidence isn’t just circumstantial, it’s damning.” She turned to the D.A. “What can I do?”

“Stay in town.” Frank Young brushed a speck of dust off his fancy suit, before looking up at Savvy again. “No formal charges have been brought against you, as yet. That could be only a question of time. In the meantime, you and Mr. Gray have bigger problems than the federal court system.”

Savvy laughed, the sound verging on hysterical. “What could be worse than being accused of murder?”

“Tomas Rodriguez was Humberto Rodriguez’s only child.” Dawson stared down into her face, his hands holding hers firmly in his. What else could he do? He couldn’t shield her from the truth any longer. She needed to know what she was up against. “Humberto Rodriguez is the kingpin in the Mexican drug cartel in Laredo’s sister town, Nuevo Laredo, and some say even here in Laredo. He’s also known for his ruthless and vindictive streak.”