Identity Crisis Read Online Free PDF

neighbors congregating. After flashing his badge, assuring them everything was under control, he returned to Olivia sitting on her bed, rocking back and forth, sliding a ring along the chain around her neck.
    “Nobody’s here,” he said, slipping his gun in its holster.
    “Thanks,” she muttered, a tear trailing down her cheek. “I’ve never been so scared.”
    He fought an overwhelming urge to wipe the moisture from her cheek and take her in his arms, promising to protect her. He’d never had such a strong desire to physically comfort a witness. Keeping an emotional distance was critical to maintain an edge. Once you lost that edge and let down your guard, everyone was in danger. He remained a good two feet away.
    It had been months since he’d touched a woman intimately. A lot longer since he’d touched the same woman twice. Women weren’t real understanding when he disappeared for days or weeks at a time, or when he had to leave in the middle of the night to play family counselor or therapist to a distraught witness. Being unable to disclose his reason for leaving didn’t help. Keeping witnesses alive required keeping his job a secret.
    At least he preferred to blame his lack of relationships on his job.
    He glanced at the paintings on the walls. “So you still sticking with the random robbery theory? I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s going on.”
    “I have no clue what’s going on.” She exhaled a ragged breath. “I don’t know why my dad’s place was broken into or why somebody would break in here. I don’t have anything anyone would want.” The desperation in both her voice and her green eyes conveyed honesty, and fear.
    “Maybe you do, and you just don’t know it.”
    The front door opened and Ethan drew his gun, turning toward the bedroom doorway.
    “SFPD,” a guy called out.
    He relaxed, lowering his gun. “Back here.”
    Ethan snagged a red silk robe off a hook by the door and held it out for Olivia to slip on. She stood, giving him a faint, appreciative smile and turned her back to him, slipping her arms into the sleeves. His fingers, curled around the robe, grazed her collarbone and the swells of her breasts as he slid the robe on her. He swallowed hard, promptly removing his hands from the garment. Avoiding Olivia’s gaze, he stepped back as two officers entered, one of whom was Brian Gibson. Ethan knew him from his short stint with the SFPD, before he’d joined the Marshals. He was a good guy, around Ethan’s age. Tan and blond, he still looked like the California surfer dude he’d been in his early twenties.
    “Ethan,” Brian said, looking surprised to see him. “Everything all right?” He glanced over at Olivia.
    “Yeah, the alarm scared away whoever it was,” Ethan said. “Don’t think anything was taken, but she needs to check out the place to be sure.”
    Brian took Olivia’s statement, and fifteen minutes later he and his partner were gone.
    “You know that officer?” she asked. This appeared to give him at least some legitimacy in her eyes.
    “Used to work with him on the force.”
    She sat on the bed and her robe slipped away from the silk nightgown covering her legs to just above her knees. She brushed her hands nervously over the sheer material, and he imagined the warm, smooth feel of her skin underneath.
    Reminding himself she was under his protection, he took a step back.
    Her gaze narrowed, full lips slightly parted, she appeared to be contemplating something.
    “What is it?” he asked.
    She glanced up at him. “Why would the mob kill my dad before getting what they wanted? That doesn’t make sense.”
    “If the mafia killed your father, he’d have taken a bullet or his house would have been blown up. They wouldn’t have spent time making it look like a heart attack. That’s not their way. If he had something they wanted, they’d have attempted to get it out of him, and his death could never have been deemed a natural cause. Besides,