that Davis Sinclair could be Jase Bradford.
She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting to feel. If Bradford was alive, then everything else Eddie told her must be the truth. The thought alone was chilling.
Reyna quickly tucked the photo away before Davis got into the Jeep and turned to her. His gaze narrowed as he watched her try to recover from the incredible shock of learning the person seated next to her might quite possibly be a dead man.
“Anything wrong?” he asked.
She pulled in a shaky breath, her survival instincts cautioning her to watch what she said. “No, I’m fine.”
He accepted her answer with a curt nod and put the vehicle in gear.
Once he’d relocked the gate, he drove past snow-covered trees lining both sides of the drive. They rounded a ninety-degree curve and the house appeared before them. The hair on her arms stood to attention and she shivered. Nothing about the place was inviting.
“This is it,” he said as he eased the car to a stop. “Hang on just a second, I’ll come around and help you. There’s ice everywhere.” He shoved his door open and got out. The noise stretched her raw nerves closer to the breaking point.
Swallowing hard, Reyna watched as the man who claimed to be Davis Sinclair circled the front of the Jeep. The limp was much more noticeable this time, maybe because she was paying closer attention.
He yanked open her door and she shrank away from him. He lifted a brow at her reaction.
“Ready?” he said as he leaned in to give her a hand. Reyna’s breath stuck in her throat, her heart drumming a mile a minute. She blamed it on the fact she’d been living in fear and the near-death experience—anything but the handsome, mysterious man by her side.
Their eyes met and her chest tightened. He was so close. She could see every line etched around his eyes, the deep grooves framing his full lips that spoke of someone who had chosen to live a life of solitude for a reason.
She had to get a grip. If this was indeed Jase Bradford, then she needed his help. But first she had to find out what he was hiding other than his true identity.
“Yes, I’m ready.” Her voice sounded as if she’d run a marathon, and her hands shook. She sucked in her bottom lip, a nervous habit she couldn’t break.
His attention shifted to her lips, his own breathing labored. She took his proffered hand and got out. After what felt like a lifetime of seconds ticking by in perfect cadence with her heart, he moved away and she was able to relax.
“Let’s get you inside. Watch your step. The porch is slippery.” Reyna slowly followed him. She kept the bag containing the storage locker key close. The contents of that locker might just be the one thing that would keep her alive if those thugs found her. Agent Martin’s threats had solidified things in her mind. Eddie’s death was no accident.
As they neared the house, motion-sensor lights flashed on, illuminating the front of the place. The man calling himself Davis Sinclair lived as if he was expecting danger to show up at his door any moment.
The house was three stories and enormous in stature. Made entirely of full round logs, it looked as if it could withstand quite a few Colorado winters. She noticed surveillance cameras positioned to capture every possible angle of the house. Massive amounts of firewood were stockpiled along both sides of the porch. The place looked like a compound and about as impenetrable as the White House.
A trickle of unease ran through her and she uttered a silent prayer asking for God’s reassurance that she was doing the right thing. With everything she had gone through, she couldn’t let down her guard for a second. She was at the mercy of a man with secrets and could be walking into a trap.
Her boots slipped on the porch and he reached out to steady her. His large, muscular arms circled her waist and drew her close. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Just for a second she stilled. She was so tired and he was so strong. If she inched in just a little bit, she could lean in to his strength.
Reyna pulled away and gave herself a mental shake. His arms dropped to his side. No matter how desperate she felt or how much she might want to trust him, her life was at stake. He unlocked the house and stepped inside, yet Reyna hesitated. She stood in the entrance, surrounded by darkness, the only light coming from a dying fire in the fireplace. She wouldn’t go inside until she knew what she was facing in there.
He seemed to read all her uncertainties, because he flipped on the overhead light, illuminating the room. No one waited inside to take her into custody. There was nothing scary or out of the ordinary. Just the evidence of a house occupied by one person.
Reyna slowly stepped in and closed the door. He stopped by the fireplace but stood quietly watching her, as if trying to gauge her threat level. Neither one trusted the other just yet.
She glanced around. Reyna had to admit, the room itself was impressive. The ceiling vaulted up to what looked like at least fourteen feet above them. A massive stacked-stone fireplace was the showpiece of the room. Windows facing out toward the drive would enable him to see for miles. No one was coming up to the house unannounced. None of which eased her fears one little bit. Who was he expecting to come after him?
Reyna stole a glance his way. He was still sizing her up. The overhead antler chandelier bathed the room in soft light and she was able to get her first good look at the man she believed to be Jase Bradford. He was incredibly tall and powerfully built, his collar-length blond hair swept back from his face, and he sported a neatly trimmed beard slightly darker than his hair. He was rugged in an outdoorsy, mountain-man way and had the most intense midnight-blue eyes she’d ever seen.
“There are a couple of bedrooms upstairs. You can take your pick. Sheets are clean and there’s a spare bath at the end of the hall. Towels are in the linen closet.”
Reyna didn’t budge. If he was really and truly the man she believed him to be, she needed answers as to why he’d lied to her. He might just have saved her life, but that didn’t mean she trusted him.
“You asked me why I was out on the road tonight and I told you, but what about you? You said yourself the weather was terrible. It had obviously been snowing for hours. Why risk running off the road as I did or get stranded out there alone?”
The corner of his mouth turned up in what passed for a smile. “I’m not the enemy here, Reyna.” Chills sped up her spine at his gravelly tone.
She lifted her chin. “And that’s not really an answer. Stop playing games with me. I know you’re lying about who you are.”
His body grew rigid in response, but he didn’t say anything.
“When Eddie first told me he didn’t believe you were dead, I thought maybe he was suffering from PTSD or something similar. He certainly showed all the classic symptoms. Still, the obvious reason not to believe was that both Eddie and I were at the memorial ceremony for you.”
She stared straight at him. “During those last few days before Eddie returned to duty, he kept insisting you faked your death because someone was trying to wipe out all the original members of the Scorpion team. He told me if anything happened to him and someone came to the house asking questions I should find you. Then I come here and I find someone who looks similar to Jase Bradford, who has the same limp as Eddie’s description of your injuries indicated, and suddenly I’m starting to believe that my husband was right all along.”
She waited for him to deny it. He didn’t, and her heart dropped to her stomach. A single muscle flexing in his jaw was his only reaction, a telltale sign that what she said made him uncomfortable.
After a handful of seconds ticked by. He turned away, gathered a couple of pieces of wood stacked next to the fireplace and then tossed them angrily onto the fire.
It was then that she saw it. The last piece of the puzzle that confirmed the truth. He had a scorpion tattoo on the inside of his left wrist. Eddie possessed the same tattoo. He’d told her the entire team had them. It was sort