Identity

Robert (Bo) Carver is happy to be home from his final deployment in Afghanistan, especially since it means taking over the family ranch that he's always loved. When he meets the cute new nurse at the medical clinic downtown, he thinks there's a chance he can have everything he's ever wanted.

Tosca Michaels, on the other hand, isn't looking for a new relationship—she's just happy to have survived the last one—but there's something about this cowboy she can't quite ignore.

Meanwhile Bo’s twin, Hank, struggles to ignore his attraction to the new director of the Juniper Ridge Ambulance. Joquell Westbury may be beautiful and competent, but she bought his dream home out from under him. Despite Hank’s determination to dislike her, the more he gets to know her, the harder it is to hold onto his anger in the face of his growing attraction. As much as he’d like to make things work, he doesn’t see how this country boy and trust-fund girl can make things work.

“Will you miss me?” Margot Eggen leaned in for one more kiss goodbye from her boyfriend Charles. They stood just inside the door of his Atlanta mansion.

“Every minute. I’ll come back sooner if I can, but it’s only a week, sweetheart.” He slid his strong hands up her arms and pressed his lips to hers. “I’d rather focus on you, but sometimes business has to come first.” A noise echoed from the other entrance to his home and he smiled wryly. “Speaking of.”

With a sigh, Margot shifted back and picked up her purse, which had fallen sideways beside the little table next to his door. Her keys had fallen out and were half-hidden by the elegant cloth on the table. She scooped them up. “Call me.”

“Every day—probably more than once a day. We’ll have a terrific Christmas together when I get back.” He held the door for her, then followed her out to her car, pressing one last kiss on her before helping her into the beat up Toyota she’d bought when she turned sixteen.

Margot started the car, blew him a kiss, and wondered how she had gotten so lucky. She had only known Charles for a month but things between them had been going so well. Better than she ever expected. The man was perfect: tall, dark, and handsome to the nth degree, and he didn’t mind that she didn’t have an impressive pedigree or a fancy education. Not that she’d told him everything about her past, but she was starting to think he wouldn’t walk away from her when she came clean.

Sure, she liked that he had money, but that wasn’t nearly as important as the way he made her feel, the sweet way he always saw to her comfort.

Wanting to plug her phone into the stereo, she reached into her bag, but didn’t find the cell. She stopped at the end of the driveway to check in her purse. It wasn’t there. “This is the last thing I need today,” she muttered.

She couldn’t go anywhere without her phone. She was on call at the twenty-four-hour clinic where she worked.

Thinking it would give her an excuse to steal another kiss from Charles, Margot backed up the drive and hopped out when she pulled beside the door. She expected to have to knock at the door to have him unlock it, but when she nudged the handle, the door swung open. It hadn’t been shut tight.

Margot lifted the tablecloth and found her cell phone sitting under it. She scooped it up and heard voices coming from down the hall. She moved further into the house and heard Charles.

“You think you can just walk away, Carter? You think I’d let you do that?”

Margot stopped before entering the room, peeking her head around the doorway. There was a plant on a buffet against the wall between her and the two men, but she could see through the fronds.

Charles stood facing a shorter man with thinning dark hair. Light glinted off of the black metal barrel of a gun as Charles waved it toward the man. A silencer was attached to the weapon.

“But, Charlie, you don’t understand,” Carter said.

“I think I do. Come on, let’s take a walk.”

Margot backed toward the outside door, suddenly worried. Charles had never done or said anything that made her nervous before. He’d always been a perfect gentleman. She nearly tripped over the table by the exit and caught a pen before it rolled off the top and fell onto the hard tiles. She rushed to her car, wanting to get away. How could she have been dating someone who threatened another person with a gun?

She slid into her car as she saw Charles push the other man out through the sliding glass doors that led to the garage. Carter turned, though whether to fight or to speak, it wasn’t clear.

Charles didn’t give him a chance to say a word, however. The gun went off and, despite the silencer, the noise was loud in the dark quiet.

Carter slumped to the ground and Charles snorted in disgust. He muttered something Margot couldn’t hear and turned away, pulling out his cell phone and heading toward his house again.

Shaking, Margot set her car in neutral so it would coast down the driveway. The movement of her car, or maybe the sound of tires on pavement must have alerted him to her presence, however, because he looked up, surprise on his face. Margot cranked her key in the ignition and pushed on the gas, even as she heard him calling out her name.

Her back window shattered, and she ducked as the glass sprayed her from behind. A hole appeared in the front windshield under the left side of her rearview mirror. Margot’s heart hammered, and she thought she might hyperventilate. She turned onto the street, taking the corner much faster than normal. Trees and bushes obscured her from view and she headed for the main road, trying to figure out where to go. He knew where she lived, so her apartment wouldn't be safe.

As she pulled out of the neighborhood, she saw Charles’ red Lamborghini leaving his driveway and speeding in her direction.

She drove for several miles, aimlessly dodging down random streets, grateful when she lost Charles after several turns. Her cell phone rang repeatedly. All Charles. Suddenly she remembered something she’d heard about cell phones being traceable by GPS. It made her feel paranoid and stupid, but she gave into the fear and turned the phone off.

Her whole body shook, and she wept as she remembered the cold, merciless expression on Charles’ face when he’d shot Carter. How had she thought she was falling in love with him? Why did she always pick guys who shouldn’t be trusted? Was Carter dead? She didn’t know, but she couldn’t take any chances.

When she’d been driving over half an hour and could finally think beyond her own immediate safety, she realized she should have called the police, had someone check to see if the little man was still alive. By now, though, Charles would surely have had someone take care of him—one way or the other.

She pulled into a truck stop and got a cup of coffee at around two a.m. Hunched over in a booth listening to a bunch of truckers complain about the cost of fuel and engine repairs, she finally felt her brain click back into place.

She had to call the cops. She had to report what she’d seen.

Her hands still shook when she reached into her bag to pull out her cell phone. She turned it on, then dialed 911.