Conard County Witness

“Is that what you think?” Jess asked. “That you’re just a piece left over from my past?”

“Aren’t I?” Lacy insisted. “You shut me out after you were wounded. We’re strangers. Occasional phone calls didn’t make us more than that.”

“I invited you into my home. I didn’t do that because you were flotsam left over from Sara.”

“No? Then what am I?”

“I cut you off for a while because I was unfit to deal with anything but my anger and pain. But when we started talking again … Lacy, you became my lifeline.”

“What?”

“Your voice. Your calls. They reminded me there was a world, a different world than the one I’d become trapped in.”

“I’m glad I helped,” she said thickly.

“You did more than help. What did I have to live for? Nothing. Sara was gone, my leg was gone … oh, I visited the depths of self-pity.”

“Who could blame you?”

“You were a reminder that there was still a life out here. That not everything in this world is colored by pain and ugliness.”

* * *

Be sure to check out the rest of the Conard County:

The Next Generation series!

Conard County

Witness

Rachel Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

RACHEL LEE was hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

In honor of combat medics everywhere, who never count the cost.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Etxract

Copyright

Chapter 1

Jess McGregor waited just down the block from Maude’s diner at the Conard City bus station. Despite the chill of the late autumn day, he stood outside. His artificial leg was made largely of carbon composite and silicone, but the cold seemed to creep through it, making him ache.

But then, he was getting used to a missing leg that sometimes ached or screamed at him, even though it was gone. Phantom pain didn’t feel very much like a phantom.

He waited for his late wife’s best friend to arrive. They hadn’t seen each other since the funeral five years ago, but they’d talked frequently on the phone since Sara’s death, and when he learned that Lacy was afraid for her life, he wanted to make sure she didn’t get off the bus in a strange town and not see someone she recognized.

At last, with a heavy chug of a diesel motor and brakes that squealed a little more than they should have, the bus pulled up. The doors opened and he waited with increasing impatience for the woman he was surprisingly eager to see again.

Then there she was, stepping down sideways and holding on to the bar to steady herself.

For an instant, a shaft of old grief speared him, nearly freezing him to the spot. He’d never seen Lacy without Sara, and part of him expected Sara to descend the steps right behind her. Impossible, stupid and the wrong way to feel. With effort, he subdued the pain. Sara was gone forever.

Five years didn’t seem to have changed Lacy at all, except her heart-shaped face looked weary. Her long, flaxen hair was exactly as he remembered, gently curling, and her blue eyes, as bright as lasers, found him instantly. The weariness vanished from her face as she smiled and waved.

Even through her coat, he could tell she had lost weight. Not good. She’d been more worried than she had let on. The past couple of years had been hard on her.

Most of the people who climbed off the bus were either met by family or headed straight toward the diner to get some food before continuing their journey.

Lacy Devane strode right toward him. He tried not to limp as he walked toward her, but even after more than three years he had a bit of a hitch in his step. He tried not to do it because it wasn’t good for his muscles and joints, but it still appeared from time to time. Especially when it was cold, like today.

“Jess!” She said his name warmly with a big smile and threw her arms around him in a hug. He reciprocated, wrapping her close and catching a whiff of her shampoo. Not since the funeral had he held a woman this close, and it struck him with a hard, unexpected and unwanted shaft of desire.

This would not do.

He stepped back quickly. “Bags?” he asked.

She nodded. “Two suitcases. I can’t thank you enough for this invitation, Jess. Probably more than anything, I need to get away from it all and just relax. They keep telling me I’m not at risk anymore.”

He snorted quietly. “That’s probably hard to believe after all the time you spent under federal protection.”

Her eyes danced up to his face, and a smile curved her lips. “That’s likely the entire problem. I’ve been conditioned.”

“Well, let’s hope so, shall we? Because time will cure that. Do you want to go straight home with me or stop at the diner first? I can feed you at home, if you’d prefer that.”