Mistaken Identity Read online

  “Damn it, Jazz, if you want me out of here, just say so.”

  Instantly Adam wished he could take the words back. The expression on her face was a mixture of shock, hurt and something else he couldn’t identify.

  “Don’t take it that way,” she said quietly. “You must have better things to do than babysitting me and Iris.”

  “I ain’t got one better thing to do than make sure you and your niece are safe. Period.”

  Jazz bit her lip and leaned back against the counter, forgoing her chair. “But it seems like such a small thing...”

  “Really?” Adam asked harshly. “Really?”

  After a few seconds, she shook her head. “No. It doesn’t.” She closed her eyes.

  “Exactly. I don’t think you’re overreacting at all.”

  Jazz reached for her coffee. The mug was still warm, and the coffee felt good going down her throat. She wondered if she would ever feel warm again. Or completely unafraid...

  CONARD COUNTY: MISTAKEN IDENTITY

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  Rachel Lee

  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.

  Books by Rachel Lee

  Harlequin Intrigue

  Conard County: The Next Generation

  Cornered in Conard County

  Missing in Conard County

  Murdered in Conard County

  Conard County Justice

  Conard County: Hard Proof

  Conard County: Traces of Murder

  Conard County: Christmas Bodyguard

  Conard County: Mistaken Identity

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  Conard County: The Next Generation

  A Conard County Spy

  Conard County Marine

  Undercover in Conard County

  Conard County Revenge

  Conard County Watch

  Stalked in Conard County

  Hunted in Conard County

  Conard County Conspiracy

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Jasmine (Jazz) Nelson—Lily’s twin sister, who has come from Miami to Conard City to watch her twin’s daughter for a few weeks. She allows people to mistake her for Lily.

  Adam Ryder—A vet with an enduring injury and some PTSD who steps in to help Jazz when someone begins to stalk her.

  Lily Robbins—Jazz’s twin sister. Away in Europe on consulting business.

  Iris Robbins—Lily’s fifteen-year-old daughter. She wanted to stay home with all her friends, so Jazz takes care of her for Lily.

  Andy Robbins—Lily’s ex-husband. Fresh out of prison, he has a score to settle with Lily.

  Sheba—Adam’s Irish setter, a comfort dog.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Excerpt from Before Buckhorn by B.J. Daniels

  Excerpt from Held Hostage at Whiskey Gulch by Elle James

  Chapter One

  Jasmine Nelson picked up the phone to hear her twin sister’s welcome voice.

  “Hey, Jazz,” Lily said. “How are you making out with Iris?”

  Jazz smiled into the phone. For a fifteen-year-old, her niece was an easy kid to deal with. “We’re doing fine. How’s Stockholm?”

  “As usual. Someday you’ll have to come with me. I can attend conferences and meetings and you can take in the sights. There are a lot of good ones.”

  “I bet.”

  Just then Iris burst through the front door, an energetic girl with tightly curly red hair that was amenable to no brush and required a short cut to easily fit under her swim cap. Her hair also got curlier in the rain and sometimes frizzed. None of this bothered Iris in the least.

  “Hey, Iris. Want to talk to your mom?”

  Iris screwed up her face.

  “Let me guess,” Lily said. “I’m the last person on earth she wants to talk to.”

  “Only because you’re her mom.” Jazz laughed. “She treats me ever so much better.”

  Iris screwed up her face again, stuck out her tongue and headed for the kitchen with her backpack.

  “So no problem,” Lily said. “I hope that continues. I’ll call again in a couple of days. And obviously you know how to reach me if Iris gets arrested.”

  “In this town? If she does anything that bad, I think the cops will bring her home and present her for house punishment.”

  It was Lily’s turn to laugh. “You’re probably right. So after only three days you’ve figured out Conard County?”

  “Well, that’s debatable, but I’m learning.”

  Lily made a kissie sound over the phone. “Later, sis.”

  Iris bounced back into the small foyer, a peanut butter sandwich in hand, bag in the other. “I got the mail,” she said, tossing her backpack onto a nearby straight-backed chair. “I just threw out all the flyers. I don’t know why Mom gets any mail anyway. She pays all the bills automatically.”

  Before Jazz could answer, Iris bent and pulled a slim stack of envelopes from her pack and tossed them into a basket on top of the envelopes that had begun to build up over the past few days. Jazz never looked at them, preserving Lily’s privacy. Neither of them guessed there was a bombshell in that stack.

  “I am so glad you’re not twins,” Jazz announced.

  Iris giggled. “I’ve heard some of what you and Mom got up to. I could be double trouble.”

  She wasn’t much of a problem to begin with, but Jazz didn’t say so. No reason to encourage it. “I wish you’d talk with Lily next time she calls.”

  Iris shrugged. “She’s the one who went to Stockholm.”

  “And you’re the one who chose to stay here. What do I recall? Something about friends and school and swim team and oboe lessons.”

  Iris grinned. “Yeah, well.”

  “Well.” Her niece always made Jazz smile. “What’s the agenda?”

  “I do my homework and you cook dinner.”

  “I knew you had it figured out. Why don’t you help me cook?”

  “Too much homework.” With that, Iris vanished into the dining room with her backpack.

  Jazz found it impossible to get annoyed with the girl. She was like a ray of sunshine coming through the door and she usually stayed that way all through homework, washing dishes and spending countless hours on her cell phone with her friends.

  Nope. No problem. At least not yet.

  Although Jazz wondered why Iris spent so many hours on the phone in the evenings. A teen thing? Or that there was no good place for them to meet up? She had no idea. Maybe she should ask.

  Iris poked her head out the dining room door. “Hey, Aunt Jazz?”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s a good thing Grandma didn’t have another set of twins. Can you imagine the names? Begonia and Hibiscus.”

  Jazz cracked up as Iris disappeared once again. Iris’s
grandmother had been a fan of flowers, obviously, but she hadn’t gone that far. She had, however, suggested Iris’s name. A lovely one.

  Jazz returned to her office. Well, Lily’s office, but Jazz had made her own workspace in there with a laptop. Not difficult, considering Lily had a big wraparound desk. Jazz easily fit her own items along one side. As a writer of fantasy novels, she had a portable job, which was why Lily had asked her to stay with Iris.

  Her niece was a joy and the climate here in Wyoming, even in springtime, had Miami beat hands down. At least at this time of year.

  She surveyed her work area, surrounded by Lily’s things. Lily was neat, so that wasn’t a problem, but Jazz was much less so. Her only neatness came from the laptop, and a pencil cup that was decorated with a pen that had a colorful flower on the top. A gift from Iris when she’d been eight.

  Then, of course, there was her notepad, essential for jotting down everything from ideas to shopping lists. A coaster for her bottle of water or cup of coffee. And the inevitable mess of papers that she’d printed out for one reason or another, and forwarded mail. She didn’t even bother to try to straighten up the papers because they had a mind of their own.

  She leaned back in the comfy office chair, not really inclined to write, and thought about her niece and her sister.

  She’d never visited them here before because Lily and Iris preferred to come to Miami to visit, for beaches, sand and sun, especially during winter months. That was okay by Jazz. She’d never felt any urge to come to the back of beyond.

  Now here she was, and she was enjoying it.

  Well, she’d finished her day’s allotment of writing anyway, so perhaps she should just go to the kitchen to start dinner. Because she rarely cooked just for herself, she was having an adventure with that. She was trying to prepare real meals, not just something frozen she could toss in the oven or microwave.

  Jazz suspected that Iris would have been happy to survive on hamburgers, but she tried to stick to a training diet for her swimming.

  Jazz was all for it, but that meant that a tray of frozen lasagna wasn’t a great idea. Anyway, all that swimming created an astonishingly large appetite.

  Which left Jazz standing in the kitchen trying to figure it out. Veggies, of course, but Iris also had a need for carbs. Jazz repeatedly felt surprised by the way Iris tucked into them.

  Whole wheat and multigrain bread. Usually, but that didn’t keep her from eating ordinary rye bread by the ton. Peanut butter was another favorite, but that list wasn’t going to turn into a dinner.

  Heck, she’d gone grocery shopping after her arrival three days ago and she already realized she hadn’t bought enough.

  Startling her, there came a knock on the front door. She’d hardly moved three steps when she heard Iris’s happy voice.

  “Adam! Oh, and you brought Sheba, too.”

  Sheba? Jazz could hardly imagine. As she rounded the corner into the foyer, she saw a tall, well-muscled man with military-cut light brown hair. He wore jeans, work boots and a khaki work shirt. Accompanying him was a dark red Irish setter whose feathery tail swished the floor happily as she sat.

  Iris was already on her knees with her arms wrapped around the dog’s neck. “Ooh, you good doggie.”

  Good doggie returned the hug with a wide grin and repeated laps of her tongue on Iris’s face.

  “She’ll lick you to death,” the man said.

  Jazz raised her gaze and saw him smiling at her. He was good-looking, too, his face lightly lined from weather.

  “Hi,” he said. “I’m Adam Ryder. You must be Jazz. And this furry critter is Sheba. Don’t ask me why, I still don’t know where the name came from. Just popped out of my mouth when I adopted her.”

  Iris turned her head, still hugging the dog, and said, “Aunt Jazz, I want a puppy.”

  Jazz shook her head. “And I don’t want your mother to kill me.” She smiled at Adam. “Come in, if you have time. I’ll make some coffee and pour orange juice into Iris.”

  Man, girl and dog followed her into the kitchen where she started the drip coffee pot. Iris grabbed her own bottle of juice from the fridge. At a quart a day, it wouldn’t last long. Iris’s appetite amused her.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get over sooner to introduce myself,” Adam said. “But I was in Cheyenne for a few days. Anyway, I’m your across-the-street neighbor.”

  Iris planted herself at the small kitchen table, drinking juice from the bottle with one hand while petting Sheba with the other. The dog’s tail still swished happily.

  When Jazz realized Adam was still politely standing, she said, “Grab a seat. Can I offer you a snack?”

  “Unlike this young lady here, I can’t afford to snack much. Gone are the youthful days when I could eat any amount.”

  “I heard,” Iris said. “Twenty tacos once, wasn’t it?”

  Adam chuckled. “I was a string bean with a fast metabolism. After I left the Army, that didn’t work anymore.”

  His smile was engaging, Jazz thought. It lit up his face.

  “I still want a puppy, Aunt Jazz.”

  Jazz looked at her niece. “I’m not doing an end run around your mother. No way. You convince her. Besides, who’d take care of it when you’re gone all day at school or lost in a swimming pool? Me?”

  Iris shrugged. “Walking a dog would be healthy.”

  Jazz couldn’t contain her laughter. “I can walk without a dog.”

  Iris gave her a sidelong look. “Not as often, though.”

  Adam spoke to Jazz. “You can’t win with this one.”

  “Apparently not, but I can stand firm.”

  Iris sighed. “Okay, okay. But I need to get back to my homework. Can I take Sheba?”

  Adam answered. “I think she’ll follow. She’s got kind of a thing for you, Iris.”

  “Sheba needs a cousin.” Iris left the room with the orange juice and the dog at her heels.

  Jazz poured the coffee. “Milk? Sugar?”

  “Black, please.”

  Jazz joined him at the table. “Lily mentioned you a couple of times. It’s nice to meet you at last.”

  “Lily mentioned you more than once. Twins are close.”

  “Sometimes it’s like we still share the same umbilical cord. So how about you? Something about you being a carpenter?”

  “Handyman. Odd jobs. I like fixing things.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “And you’re an author?”

  “So my fingers and computer claim.”

  “More than that. Lily showed me a row of your books on her shelf. Must be special.”

  “First it starts as a hobby. Then it becomes a job. Different feeling altogether.”

  “I guess I can see that.” He sipped his coffee, and silence fell between them.

  Small talk between strangers could be awkward, Jazz thought. She sought something to say, then, “How’d you get Sheba?”

  “Well...” He drew the word out, teasing the story along. “You see, I was visiting my buddy up north. The guy has a big spread and I like to ride horses. He’s always happy to lend me one and send me out into the wide-open spaces.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  “It is. Peaceful. Anyway, he has this thing.”

  “A thing?”

  “Yeah. He says he read a veterinary study that said it was better not to fix dogs until they were well over a year old. Something about them being less likely to get overweight. So...”

  Jazz chuckled. She guessed what was coming. “Unintended consequences?”

  “You could call them that, although Sam didn’t seem too upset about it. He’s got quite a collection of Irish setters. They’re great hunting dogs and pointers. Anyway, a couple of them got together and when I arrived on one visit he had six weaned puppies. The rest, as they say, is history. I’ve never regrette
d bringing Sheba home with me.”

  Then he cocked a brow. “I think I should have come up with an Irish name for her. I keep getting asked about Sheba.”

  “It’s unique.”

  “Maybe. It seems there is a list of popular dog names with Molly at the top. Bet you Sheba isn’t as low as we’d think.”

  “Do you take her hunting?”

  Adam shook his head. “I didn’t get her for that. She’s a great companion. And I’ve learned a lot of breed traits from her.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, I never taught her to point, but she does.”

  “Wow. Really?”

  “Yep. And another thing that still floors me. A friend of mine has a parakeet. He was out of his cage one day, flying around and perching on high things, like curtain rods. I’ll never understand why Nibbles decided to fly low.”

  “Nibbles?” Jazz felt her eyes widen.

  Adam grinned. “Yeah, because the bird used to bite my friend when it was a baby. So Nibbles.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “Anyway, Nibbles got too close to Sheba. Next thing all we can see is feathers sticking out from her jaw. I yelled drop it and the dog did.”

  “Oh my God. I can’t imagine!”

  “What I couldn’t have imagined was that Nibbles was just fine. He shook out his feathers then started squawking at Sheba right in her face. A total scolding.”

  “How did Sheba take that?”

  “She hung her head and took it until the bird flew away.”

  Jazz thought about it, amused. The image was just too much, but she had to ask, “You’re not kidding?”

  “I swear I’m not. Bird dog in her, I guess. She never bit down.”

  “Holy moly.”

  “That’s what I said, only a little more colorfully. That dog is a trip, I can tell you.”

  “Sounds like it.”

  Then they fell silent again. Eventually Adam asked, “You haven’t been here long yet, but what do you think of our town?”

  “So far it’s charming.”

  “It’s also small enough to have one hell of a grapevine. As the saying goes, if you don’t know what you’re doing, ask a neighbor.”

  “Uh-oh.”