tion id="u81a1d09f-6011-5044-8821-b885d008f94f">
If she wants to stay alive...
She must remember who wants her dead.
Returning to Bishop’s Rock is meant to jolt Lea Westin’s memory. But only more questions greet her. Questions, and Cole Matheson, who announces Lea had hired him to investigate threats against her life. With no recollection of her own past, can Lea believe the man claiming to be her loving husband? Or does she trust the sexy stranger who feels oddly familiar and dangerous in an entirely different way?
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
He gave a slight shrug. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”
“Figure me out? What do you mean by that?”
His gaze narrowed as he continued to watch her. “Either you’re a very good actress or you really do have amnesia. In either case, you and I need to have a little chat, Mrs. Westin.”
Lea’s hand crept to her throat. She felt vulnerable and exposed and she had no idea why. “Then you do know me?”
“In a manner of speaking. I’m the man you hired to find out who wants you dead.”
Bishop’s Rock
Amanda Stevens
AMANDA STEVENS is an award-winning author of over fifty novels, including the modern gothic series The Graveyard Queen. Her books have been described as eerie and atmospheric, “a new take on the classic ghost story.” Born and raised in the rural South, she now resides in Houston, Texas, where she enjoys binge-watching, bike riding and the occasional margarita.
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Contents
“Are you sure you don’t remember this place?” He gave her an anxious smile. “We came out here a couple of years ago. You were so enthralled with the scenery, I always swore I’d bring you back.”
“It’s beautiful, but I don’t think—” Lea Westin broke off midsentence as she raked her gaze across the rugged landscape. Whispering Springs Ranch remained a mystery to her, but she knew she’d been to Texas Hill Country before. She had vague memories of long, lazy days floating down the bottle-green Guadalupe and of hot summer nights gazing up at the stars. However, she had no memories at all of the man beside her. The man who claimed to be her husband.
Until two days ago, she hadn’t even known her own name. Then a handsome stranger had turned up at the small rehab center where she’d been recovering from a head injury sustained in a brutal attack. Passersby had found her unconscious in an alley and called the police. She’d been rushed to the nearest trauma hospital, where she remained unconscious for nearly forty-eight hours. When she finally awakened, she couldn’t remember her name, where she lived or how she’d been injured. Or why she’d been walking alone in downtown Houston after midnight. She had no recollection at all beyond those distant, distorted images from her childhood.
Folding her hands in her lap, she cast a sidelong glance at her husband. Andrew Westin. Tall, slender, sharply dressed. Lea had been taken aback by his good looks when he’d first appeared in the garden where she sat watching the sunset. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, but he hadn’t minded. Her curiosity was only natural, he’d said.
Since that first meeting, her scrutiny had grown more furtive. She found his perfection intimidating, and she was too self-conscious of her own battered appearance, too overly aware of the forgotten intimacy between them. Not that he seemed to expect anything in the way of affection. Except for a peck on the cheek, he hadn’t kissed or embraced her. The doctor said you need your space, he had explained. So we’ll take things nice and slow. One day at a time.
Lea supposed she should be relieved that she’d married such a kind and solicitous man, but she couldn’t help wondering about his distance or why she had been out alone so late at night. He’d brushed off her inquiries. Now was not the time to get into all that. She needed to concentrate on her recovery. Nothing else mattered.
But, of course, everything mattered to Lea. How else was she to piece together her shattered life? Their marriage had obviously been in trouble. She suspected a separation, which would explain why she’d spent ten days in the hospital and then rehab before her husband had come to claim her. It would also explain why she hadn’t been wearing a wedding ring when the police found her, although the attacker could have yanked the band from her finger before fleeing back into the shadows.
Andrew