Dying for Love by Rita Herron Read Free Book Online Page B

to her. Both had lost parts of their past, had empty voids of time and memories.
    But he didn’t share anything about himself with anyone. Sharing meant opening yourself up to caring.
    Caring meant being vulnerable.
    Besides, this woman was trouble.
    “Miss Nettleton.” He extended his hand, and she stared at it for a moment as if afraid to touch him.
    Then her gaze flew to his, and something akin to attraction sparked in his gut.
    Good God, no. This woman had emotional problems. She was strictly off-limits.
    “Agent Strong.”
    Her voice sounded soft and lyrical, seductive, another distraction he didn’t need.
    “Sit down and tell me what I can do for you.”
    Her hands clenched the folds of her peasant skirt as she sank into the chair. “I saw you on the news, when you rescued that little boy Darby Wesley.”
    John claimed his own seat, dragging his gaze away from her so he could focus. “Yes, we caught a break on that one.”
    “The little boy is okay?”
    “Other than being emotionally traumatized, he wasn’t harmed.” He leaned forward, sensing she hadn’t come to congratulate him on an arrest. “But you didn’t come to me about that case, did you?”
    “No.” Those mesmerizing eyes met his. “You know who I am?”
    He nodded. Hell, who didn’t? She was famous in Tennessee. “I followed the Slaughter Creek story. I’ve worked with Agents Hood and Blackwood as well. In fact, isn’t Nick Blackwood’s brother married to your sister?”
    Uncertainty flared in her eyes. “Yes. But . . . I wanted to talk to you.”
    He arched a brow. “Why me?”
    She fidgeted. “Because I don’t want to bother my family right now. My sister just had a baby, and Nick is working that suicide bomber case.”
    “Go on.”
    Amelia ran her fingers through her long auburn hair, hair that curled around her face and made her look delicate and sweet. But he’d heard she had different sides. Alters, they called them.
    One of them, a teenage boy, was supposed to be violent. Police had suspected Amelia of her grandfather’s murder, but later learned the Commander had committed the crime.
    She was supposedly in therapy to deal with her disorder, but he had no idea if she was making progress.
    “Just tell me what’s on your mind,” he said, ignoring the pull of attraction tugging at him. Pretty women in trouble had a way of turning him into an alpha dog, stirring his protective instincts.
    And getting him entangled in their lives.
    He had his own mess to deal with.
    She drew a deep breath. “I just learned that I gave birth to a baby boy six years ago. It was during the time I was hospitalized at the sanitarium.”
    Not what he was expecting to hear. “You know this how?”
    “I’ve had recurring dreams about the birth. At first I thought it was just that—a dream. But I underwent hypnosis, and apparently I’ve been reliving a memory from my past instead.”
    So she was still in therapy. “And?”
    “I spoke to Ms. Lettie, the nurse who cared for me years ago, and she confirmed that I had delivered a child. But she told me Arthur Blackwood buried him beside his daughter. We know he lied about burying his daughter, so he might have lied about my baby.”
    John shifted, his interest piqued.
    “Will you help me?”
    God, he had his hands full with this kidnapping case. “Why not go to Sheriff Blackwood?”
    She wet her lips with her tongue and started to say something, then bit her lip. “I told you that I don’t want to bother him now. Besides, I did some research. Finding missing children is your specialty.”
    John grimaced. What else had she learned about him? That he’d lost years of his life? “We don’t know that your child is missing, though.”
    Amelia stood, anger radiating from her. “Is that a no?”
    He leaned his hands on the desk. Dammit, after all she’d been through, how could he tell her no? Because she was right.
    Arthur Blackwood had lied and used innocents for his own purposes for years.