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her
away in a car. No man was in those memories, no husband, no devoted mother or
recollections of Florida.
    What Jake had said was a lie. Why was he doing this? Why was
Toby? Had she been so very wrong about her initial perception of them? Was this
an elaborate ruse by two guys who were stalkers or rapists?
    Lea’s fingers tightened around her cellphone. If Jake
noticed, it didn’t get him to release her wrist.
    “We need to leave now,” Toby insisted.
    “She wants more proof,” Jake argued, then spoke to her.
“Call the Phoenix police, ask for Detective Sanchez. We spoke with him before
coming here. He’ll still be at his desk.”
    Lea forced down a swallow, her attention moving from Jake to
Toby. One dark, the other blond. Both formidable. “You spoke to him about
what?”
    “You,” Jake said. “Call him. The number’s—”
    “Yeah, right.” She twisted her hand to free it. “I’ll find
it on my own.”
    Toby sighed. Lea shot him a look.
    Didn’t faze him at all. “He’s in violent crimes,” Toby
informed her, then spoke to Jake. “We need to leave.”
    No fucking way. Not until she knew who he and Jake really
were.
    She pulled up Phoenix’s directory on her cellphone, locating
the number for violent crimes. By the second ring, her heart beat so fiercely
Lea wasn’t certain she wanted the call answered.
    On the third ring, it was out of her hands. A man said,
“Violent crimes.”
    Lea’s throat tightened. She shifted her weight. “Ah, can I
speak to a Detective Sanchez?”
    “Who’s calling?”
    Damn. There was actually a detective named Sanchez working
there?
    Wait a minute, this was Phoenix. Sanchez was about as common
here as it was in Mexico. Unwilling to tell the man her name, Lea said, “The
woman who’s with two guys who claim they’re U.S. Marshals…a Jake Gabriel and
Toby Quinn.”
    “Just a sec.”
    She had expected him to ask, “who?” His lack of hesitation
made Lea’s skin clammy. Faster than she expected or wanted, another guy came on
the line. “Sanchez here, Ms. Baptista.”
    Blood drained so quickly from Lea’s face, a wave of
dizziness buffeted her. She gripped her phone.
    “Ms. Baptista?” he said.
    She blurted, “What these two guys have told me is true? All
that stuff about my past really happened?”
    “I’m afraid so. You need to go with them.”
    “Are you kidding? Where?”
    “That’s up to them. Let me talk to Deputy Gabriel.”
    “But I want to know—”
    He interrupted, “I can’t tell you what I don’t know. Please
put the deputy on.”
    Lea’s hand trembled as she handed the phone to Jake. “He
wants to talk to you.”
    “Gabriel,” Jake said, then listened. “No,” he offered,
pausing once more as the detective spoke. In the coming minutes, Jake responded
with little more than a cryptic no or yes .
    Toby offered no comment.
    Lea risked a glance. He was already regarding her. For
another man, it might have been an awkward moment. Not for Toby Quinn. He
didn’t look away. That same arousal she’d seen earlier simmered in his eyes.
Heat rose to Lea’s throat and face.
    If her blush pleased or aroused him, he didn’t reveal it.
With that same neutral expression, he studied her for a moment longer, then
focused on the area surrounding them as though he expected trouble.
    You’re in danger, Jake had said.
    Lea locked her knees to keep her legs from wobbling. Turning
his back to her, Jake strode to the left, speaking quietly, no doubt so she
couldn’t overhear.
    Lea noted his cowboy boots, as black as the rest of his
attire. Raising her face, she inhaled deeply, smelling a car’s exhaust and the
pungent odor of garbage carried on the lazy wind. In her peripheral vision, she
caught movement. Turning, she saw the edge of Toby’s suit jacket flapping in
the breeze, showing her a bit of his shoulder holster, the gun he carried.
    Aw, God.
    Ending the call, Jake returned to her and Toby. “We need to
leave now,” he said, handing her the