Главная страница | Современная зарубежная литература | A Man Worth Remembering

A Man Worth Remembering
Delores Fossen


FBI agent Gabe Sanchez had his orders concerning witness Leigh O'Brien - keep her alive, catch the bad guys, take care of her.The last was asking a lot, given that Leigh had vanished from his life two years ago. Now she was back, and Gabe wanted answers. Who was trying to kill her? Why did she leave without a word? Why did he still yearn for her, body and soul? Leigh couldn't remember her name, let alone the sexy stranger who claimed to be her husband.All she knew was that she had to get to Houston in time to save a child in grave danger. But she and Gabe were in for the shock of their lives when they arrived at their destination…because the child they sought was their son!









An image flashed through Leigh’s mind


It was an image of Gabe, beautifully naked. He had his hands on her. Their embrace was beyond intimate. It was so clear, so erotic that Leigh gasped.

“What’s wrong?” Gabe glanced around them.

“Nothing,” she said on a rush of breath. “A memory, I think.”

“Of what?”

She couldn’t tell him. Leigh didn’t even think she could say the words.

“Was it about us?”

Leigh nodded but didn’t offer anything else.

“All right, if you won’t answer, I’ll fill in the blanks. We had some bad times along with the good ones. Very good ones. Yes, we argued, but we always made up. We had all the hopes, dreams and problems of any other couple in love. And yes, damn it, we even had great sex.”

He must have sensed that he’d hit upon something. “Great sex,” he repeated.

“I won’t get involved with you again,” she retorted.

“Are you trying to convince me,” Gabe drawled, “or yourself?”


Dear Reader,

We have a fabulous fall lineup for you this month and throughout the season, starting with a new Navajo miniseries by Aimée Thurlo called SIGN OF THE GRAY WOLF. Two loners are called to action in the Four Corners area of New Mexico to take care of two women in jeopardy. Look for Daniel “Lightning” Eagle’s story in When Lightning Strikes and Burke Silentman’s next month in Navajo Justice.

The explosive CHICAGO CONFIDENTIAL continuity series concludes with Adrianne Lee’s Prince Under Cover. We just know you are going to love this international story of intrigue and the drama of a royal marriage—to a familiar stranger…. Don’t forget: a new Confidential branch will be added to the network next year!

Also this month—another compelling book from newcomer Delores Fossen. In A Man Worth Remembering, she reunites an estranged couple after amnesia strikes. Together, can they find the strength to face their enduring love—and find their kidnapped secret child? And can a woman on the edge recover the life and child she lost when she was framed for murder, in Harper Allen’s The Night in Quesiton? She can if she has the help of the man who put her away.

Pulse pounding, mind-blowing and always breathtaking—that’s Harlequin Intrigue.

Enjoy,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue




A Man Worth Remembering



Delores Fossen

















www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




ABOUT THE AUTHOR


Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former air force captain Delores Fossen feels as if she was genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force Top Gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.










CAST OF CHARACTERS


Leigh O’Brien—Even though she’s lost her memory, Leigh senses that she and her husband, Gabe, once had a life and love that’s worth remembering. Without realizing she has a secret that can destroy the new bonds between them, Leigh places her life, and her heart, in Gabe’s hands.

Special Agent Gabe Sanchez—Gabe vows to do his job and protect his estranged wife from a killer, but he doesn’t want to give Leigh another chance to crush his heart. Too bad he can’t forget the love they once shared—a love that is threatened when Gabe learns the truth Leigh has kept from him.

Wade Jenkins—A key member of the task force assembled to protect Leigh and catch the killer. But is Wade someone Leigh and Gabe can trust? Or is he the very man who wants Leigh dead?

Teresa Walters—An ATF agent with more than a professional interest in Gabe.

Frank Templeton—Leigh’s former assistant on the FBI’s Evidence Response Team. Does someone want Frank dead as well, or is he the mastermind behind the plot to kill Leigh?


To my sister, Linda Reeves,

who taught me many of life’s most important lessons.




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

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty




Chapter One


Leigh realized she was being murdered.

She regained consciousness in the water. Cold, deep, dark water. It was above her, beneath her, around her on all sides. Smothering her.

Terror shot through her. She frantically tried to swim but couldn’t. Her hands and feet were tied together. Water gushed into her nose and mouth. Her throat clenched. It hurt. She hurt. Her chest pounded as if it might shatter.

Someone had put her there. But who? She could just make out a milky image on the bridge above the water’s surface. No face. No name. Just someone who obviously wanted her dead.

Inch by excruciating inch, she sank lower. She fought against the urge to surrender, to close her eyes and just give up so the pain would stop. No. She wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t. God, she didn’t want to die.

Leigh twisted her body, using the last of her breath to try to stop her downward slide. She didn’t succeed. The water coiled around her and sent her into a dizzying spiral until her feet dipped into the clotted mud at the bottom.

She didn’t see the man before his arm snaked around her waist, but she felt his firm grip. It was a lifeline. Hope. Right now, hope and this man were all she had.

He stopped the mud from swallowing her up and began to haul her toward the surface. Leigh tried to help, but her wrists and feet were still bound. No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t free herself.

Somehow, he got them out of the water, dragging her onto a muddy embankment. And then he kissed her. At least she thought that’s what he was doing until she felt the air gust into her mouth. No. Not a kiss. Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

“It’s okay,” the man said. “You’ll be all right.”

He knelt beside her, his movements jerky but somehow controlled, and he got the ropes off her hands and feet. Every few seconds, his gaze darted around them as if he was watching for something.

Not something, she realized.

Someone.

After all, the person who’d try to kill her could return to finish the job.

She didn’t have time to react to that terrifying realization. Her teeth began to chatter. Her body shook. She was cold and wet, and her head throbbed in pain. For that matter, the rest of her throbbed, too. But at least she was alive. Because of this man, she was alive. Too bad she didn’t have enough breath to thank him.

He leaned over her to examine her forehead. It was dusk, but what was left of the filmy sunlight allowed her to see him and his resolute expression. Did she know him?

No.

He was a stranger.

“You saved my life,” she managed to say.

Water slipped off him and splattered onto her face. With the same gentle touch he’d used on her forehead, he wiped away the drops, letting his fingertips linger on her cheek. “Yes. I did.” He mumbled something else under his breath. Something in Spanish. And he shook his head. “I’d still like to have your butt for what you pulled, but we can get into all of that later.”

She didn’t understand what he meant. Exactly what had she pulled? She hadn’t asked to be in that water. Had she? No, she was sure of that. This was no suicide attempt. She’d fought to stay alive.

“Who are you?” she asked.

Something she couldn’t distinguish rifled through his eyes. “What the devil do you mean by that?”

“I’d like to know your name,” she clarified.

He sat back on his heels and glared down at her. “Just what kind of sick game are you playing, huh?” She barely got out a denying shake of her head before he continued. “Believe me, it won’t work.” With each word he got louder. “I want answers. I deserve answers.”

“I’d like some answers, too. For starters, please tell me who you are.”

“Gabe,” he said, hissing it out like profanity. “But you know that.”

No, she didn’t. She shoved her fingers through her hair to push the wet strands out of her eyes. Part of her thought she might recognize his name, the way he’d said it, but she couldn’t be sure. Mercy, if her head would just stop pounding, maybe she could sort through all of this.

“Gabe Sanchez,” he added after a moment.

Still nothing. But she should know him. Maybe she felt that because of his formidable expression and not because of any true recollection. “Well, thank you, Mr. Sanchez, for saving me. I thought I was going to die.”

He sat there as drops of water slid down his face. He seemed oblivious to the water, to his drenched clothes. Oblivious to everything around them. Everything but her. He stared craters in her.

“You would have died if I hadn’t been here,” he assured her. “Someone shot you. When that didn’t work, they clubbed you and threw you in the lake.”

She gasped, horrified that someone would do such terrible things to her. “Someone shot me?”

“Looks that way. It’s just a graze, but combined with that lump, you’ll probably have one heck of a headache.”

She nodded. She already had one heck of a headache so there was no probably about it.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded. “Who tried to kill you?”

He seemed angry with her, and she didn’t know why. Worse, she didn’t know why things didn’t make sense. Who had done this to her? Why had she been in the water? And who was this stranger who expected her to have all the answers?

“I don’t know.” She touched her forehead. When she drew back her hand, she noticed the watery blood on her fingertips. She was injured but didn’t even remember how it’d happened. God, how could she possibly not know that? “Did you see anyone before you jumped in after me?”

“Just a car speeding away. I couldn’t make out the license plate.” Vigilantly, he looked around them again. “When I saw the air bubbles in the water, I dived in.”

Thank God he had. If not, she would without a doubt be dead. “Where are we?”

“Lake Pontchartrain.” His narrowed gaze came back to her. “Are you trying to make me believe you really don’t know?”

She glanced around her. All she saw was the sun setting on an ordinary lake. Other than that, it didn’t look familiar. “Are we near Houston?”

“Houston?” he spat out. “We’re just outside New Orleans.”

Sweet heaven. Even with a multiple choice, she wouldn’t have gotten it right. What the heck was she doing here?

“You honestly don’t remember?” he asked.

“No.” It was the one answer of which she was certain.

“All right, let’s try something easy. What’s the date?”

Again, she tried to concentrate. “Is it June something?”

He blew out a long breath. “Not quite. It’s August twelfth. Okay. Here’s a question that nobody gets wrong. What’s your name?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Absolutely nothing. Her mind was a complete blank.

He stilled, his expression registering more than a little alarm. “You don’t know your own name?”

She shook her head, trying to will away the dizziness that started to overpower her. “I have no idea.” And she didn’t. No idea whatsoever.

She was ready to panic, when it occurred to her that this had to be a dream. Yes, a dream. It was the only logical explanation. A full-fledged, mind-blowing nightmare. All she had to do was wake up, and she’d remember everything. Heck, right now she probably wasn’t anywhere near this lake but in her own bed at home.

Wherever home was.

She blinked hard several times, trying to force a different scene to appear in front of her, but the nightmare was still there. And so was Gabe Sanchez. He stared at her, his dark, suspicious eyes filled with questions that she knew she couldn’t answer.

So, with the taste of the muddy lake still in her mouth, she closed her eyes and let the dream take over.



VOICES WOKE HER. She caught a word here and there, but much of what she heard didn’t make sense. Philip. Frank Templeton. Sanchez.

Gabe Sanchez.

The man who saved her. There were at least two other voices: a male and a female. All three used hushed tones, but they seemed to be arguing.

She forced her eyes open, even though the overhead fluorescent lights made her wince, and pain stabbed through her head. She felt groggy, almost drunk, but she finally managed to see the trio near the doorway. Sanchez, an attractive woman with pinned-up dark hair and a tall blond man.

The woman and the other man wore business suits in neutral colors. No suit for Sanchez. He had on faded jeans, a plain white T-shirt and a shoulder holster that had a pistol sticking out of it. There was a beeper attached to his belt loop.

She glanced down at her own clothes. Someone had dressed her in drab green surgical scrubs. And she was on a gurney.

“I’m not in ICU,” she said to herself. “Or in an emergency room.”

It looked more like a huge supply closet. There were several metal shelves crammed with boxes. A single window graced the far wall, and the blinds were closed, so she couldn’t tell if it was night or day. Or if it was covered with bars. She was afraid it might have bars.

“It’s what you have to tell her,” the woman insisted.

Sanchez shook his head. “I won’t.”

The woman folded her arms over her chest and tapped her foot. “It wasn’t a request. Now, what part of it didn’t you understand?”

“The part where you started spouting Justice Department garbage, that’s when, Teresa.”

“You’d rather have her dead? Because that’s what’ll happen. Heck, it almost did, or have you forgotten that already?”

“I haven’t forgotten anything. I’m the one who pulled her out of that lake.” Sanchez mumbled something under his breath. Leigh only caught the Jesucristo part. “Hell, she almost died in my arms.”

She lifted her head off the gurney. “Who are you people?”

The three rifled their gazes toward her, but they didn’t say anything. She studied each one, trying to interpret their expressions and the snippets of conversation she’d heard.

She definitely didn’t trust the blond man, and yet she couldn’t say why. The woman was no ally either. She didn’t know what to make of Sanchez, but since he’d saved her from drowning, she would cast her lot with him if it came down to choosing sides.

It would, she feared, come down to choosing sides.

“Better yet,” she amended when none of them answered her, “who am I?”

Gabe Sanchez walked toward her with an almost graceful ease. He was tall, over six feet, and muscular. His biceps strained against the cotton T-shirt. He had chocolate-colored hair that was short and neat. Efficient. Low maintenance.

When he got closer, she saw that his eyes were a deep blue. They, too, seemed efficient—his gaze swept over her with a minimal amount of effort. However, she had no doubt that he’d just given her the once-over.

The others trailed behind Sanchez, stopping when he did. They were friends. No, more than that. Or less than that. Maybe much, much less.

God, why was it so hard to figure out things?

“You still don’t remember who you are?” Sanchez asked her.

“No. Why is that? What’s wrong with me?”

“You took a hard hit on the head. It might take a while for everything to come back.”

She touched the bandage on her forehead. There was indeed a lump under the gauze swatch, but she hadn’t needed to feel it to know it was there. That was no doubt the source of her vicious headache.

“I have a concussion?” she asked.

Sanchez nodded. “And a few stitches in your forehead and on your ankle where the rope abraded your skin. The doctor examined you, but he doesn’t think your memory loss has anything to do with the head injury. In other words, no brain damage. He said it was brought on by emotional trauma.”

“Disassociative amnesia,” she softly added. “How long will it last?” But she already knew. Like her aversion to the blond man and the woman, she just didn’t know how she knew it.

It was Sanchez who answered. “The doctor’s not sure. It could be hours. Or days.”

“Or I might never regain my memory,” she provided.

She lowered her head and tried to absorb that. She couldn’t. It was impossible to understand anything while her thoughts whirled around like a tornado.

God, what she was going to do? She didn’t know who she was, not her name, not her age. Nothing. She didn’t know if she was still in danger or if she could trust anyone. She didn’t even know what these people had to do with her.

But they knew.

They likely knew everything about her.

“What’s my name?” she asked Sanchez. She wanted answers, and by God, she wanted them now.

“Leigh O’Brien.”

That didn’t mean anything to her. Only the water and Sanchez saving her meant anything. For all practical purposes, her life had begun the moment she realized she was drowning. That wasn’t a comforting thought. “Where am I?”

“A private clinic near New Orleans.”

So, they hadn’t left the area. But it wasn’t an ordinary clinic. She was sure of that. “Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“Am I a cop?”

The room went deadly silent. “No,” the blond man finally answered.

Leigh didn’t like that hesitation. It sent a wave of panic through her. “Am I a criminal then?” And she braced herself for the answer.

These people might be here to arrest her for something she’d done wrong. Had someone tossed her in that lake because of a drug deal gone bad? An organized-crime housecleaning? What awful thing had she done to make someone want to murder her?

The blond man took a step forward, placing himself slightly ahead of the others. “You’re not a criminal.”

She allowed herself a short breath of relief. Just one. And got down to business. “Since these questions could go on forever, why don’t you just tell me who you are?”

The three glanced at each other before the blond man said anything else. “I’m Wade Jenkins. People call me Jinx. Special Agent Sanchez and I are with the FBI. Agent Teresa Walters is an agent with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms—the ATF.”

“FBI. ATF,” Leigh repeated. “What about me? Am I some sort of agent, too?”

“You’re a concerned citizen.” The blond man burrowed his index finger into his eyebrow. “A concerned citizen with a rather large problem.”

“Obviously,” Leigh snapped. “Believe me, after everything that’s happened, I can guess there’s a problem. Now, other than a concerned citizen, who am I? If I don’t work for an agency with initials, where do I work?”

“At a bookstore in Austin, Texas,” Jinx answered.

“A bookstore?” A bookstore. That couldn’t be right. Nothing about that felt right.

He didn’t elaborate. “Exactly what do you remember about being in the water?”

A good question. Too bad she didn’t have a good answer. “Not much other than Agent Sanchez saving me. Before that, all I remember is struggling and sinking deeper.”

“Any idea who put you in the lake?”

She tried to force the answer to appear in her mind. It didn’t work. She had no more answers about that now than she had when Sanchez had first asked her. “No. I have an image of someone on a bridge, but I can’t make out any of the features. Someone wearing light colors. I don’t suppose that helps you any?”

“No,” Teresa Walters answered in a frustrated huff. “But your amnesia is only part of the problem. This might not be over. Someone might make another attempt to kill you.”

Leigh swallowed hard. She hadn’t considered that. Yet. However, after her adrenaline fatigue wore off, it would no doubt have occurred to her. Amnesia or not, she still had common sense.

She hoped.

Leigh turned her gaze to Sanchez. “Who wants me dead?”

He lifted his shoulder. “We don’t know.”

“Can you at least tell me what it involves? What—”

“The less you know, the better,” Jinx interrupted.

“Maybe that’s your way of looking at it, but I see things from a little different perspective than you do. Someone tried to kill me, and I think I have a right to know why.”

“Jinx is right about this, Leigh,” Sanchez spoke up. “Even if we told you everything, it wouldn’t make you safer. That’s why we’ll provide you with protection.”

She shook her head, already objecting. “Now, wait a minute. I don’t even know any of you, and you want me to place my life in your hands? How do I know you’re not the people who tried to kill me, huh?”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Sanchez answered. “If we wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have pulled you out of that lake.”

“But those two didn’t pull me out.” She pointed to Wade Jenkins and then to Teresa Walters. “The way I see it, I’m in a real mess here. What if some secret’s trapped in my head, and you want me around just long enough to get it? What if you kill me the minute I tell you what you want to know?”

Agent Walters threw her hands in the air. “I give up. Let me know when you can talk some sense into her.”

Leigh was about to tell the woman exactly what she thought of her when Sanchez broke in. “You can trust me, Leigh.” The offer had not come effortlessly. It came with a scalpel-sharp glare.

“Why? Because you saved my life?”

He didn’t answer, but after a moment Jinx did. “Not just that. You can trust him because Gabe Sanchez is your husband.”




Chapter Two


Gabe could almost feel her gaze crawl all over him. He braced himself for the storm he was about to face. And there would be one heck of a storm when Leigh got going with her questions. No doubt about it.

“My husband?” she repeated.

He nodded but didn’t add more than that. The details of their marital status were among a mile-long list of things he didn’t want to discuss with her. Too bad he’d probably have to do just that before this was over.

“Is it true?” she asked. “Are we really married?”

He eased onto the edge of the narrow gurney and stared down at her. No sense standing for what would basically be an interrogation. “I’ll answer that if you’ll tell me the truth. Is this memory loss all an act?”

“No.” Aggravation danced across her eyes. “I wish it were, because I can promise you I wouldn’t be here. I don’t like being here.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Gabe made a sweeping glance around the room. “I don’t care much for it myself.”

Leigh made the same sweeping glance, and when she finished, their eyes met, coming together until they held. “Are you really my husband?”

Well, this was one part of the conversation that he obviously couldn’t put off. Not that it surprised him. If their situations were reversed, he’d want to know the same thing. “Afraid so. You’re not happy about that?”

“The jury’s still out. It’s hard to know if I’m happy about it when I don’t even know you. So, how long have we been married?”

Ah, a test. He’d expected that, too. “Four years, six months.” He paused, thinking. “And eighteen days.”

He could have given her the hours if she’d asked. Gabe cursed himself. It didn’t please him that he could recall something so painful in such detail.

“That long,” she mumbled.

Yeah, that long. But half of that time she’d been gone. Now, here she was—right back in his life. It had taken him too long to get over her the last time. She’d turned him upside down and hung him out to dry. He didn’t want another dose of that.

Even with the dye job, she hadn’t changed much. A little thinner. And maybe there was something different about her expression. The old Leigh had been so self-assured. Not now though. There was a good reason for that. After all, someone had tried to kill her. That murder attempt no doubt had something to do with what had brought her back to him. Fate working overtime again.

Sometimes fate didn’t know which end was up.

Well, he wasn’t about to buy into anything that dealt with fate.

She continued to stare at him as if sizing him up. “Why didn’t you say something earlier about being my husband?”

“There wasn’t time. You were unconscious when I brought you here.” He knew that wouldn’t be the last of her questions, and he didn’t have to wait long for her to verify that.

Leigh glanced at his hand. “Why isn’t either of us wearing a wedding ring?”

Hell. The woman could certainly open old wounds. Gabe pulled the neck chain out of his T-shirt so she could see the simple gold band that it held. “I’m left-handed, and it catches on the holster. I’m not sure where your ring is. Maybe it slipped off in the lake.”

Or maybe she’d thrown it away. He wouldn’t put it past her. Obviously their marriage vows hadn’t meant much to her. He couldn’t say the same. And that was probably the only explanation he had for why he still wore his wedding ring. One thing was for sure, as soon as he got out of there, he planned to get rid of it. It was something he should have done months ago.

“I have to go,” Jinx announced, the sound of his voice slicing through the heavy silence. “I need to update a few people about what’s happened and try to figure out what we’re going to do. Gabe, you wait here with Leigh.”

Of course. Gabe hadn’t expected it to be any other way.

“I should head out, too,” Agent Walters added after checking her watch. She gave Gabe’s sleeve a tug. “No improvising, all right?”

Gabe didn’t concur either verbally or otherwise. Nor did he disagree with the woman who was coleader of this so-called task force. He just kept his rebellious thoughts to himself. “I’ll walk you two out.” He stood and looked down at Leigh. “Stay put.”

Her unbandaged eyebrow winged up. “Do I have a choice?”

“No,” he clarified over his shoulder.

“I told you to be nice to her,” Jinx said the moment they were outside the door. “I told you to gain her trust.”

Gabe wanted to laugh. “I don’t perform miracles.”

“No, but you will do your job.”

Jinx’s words hit him like a heavyweight’s fist, even though Gabe had tried to brace himself for it. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”

“It means you’ll protect her until we can make other arrangements.” There was no hesitation in Jinx’s tone, and that tone drew a clear line between their friendship and his role as Gabe’s boss.

Gabe scrubbed his hand over his face. “It means you want me to be her bodyguard.”

“If necessary,” Teresa piped in. Jinx gave a nod of agreement.

It would be necessary. No doubt about it. That was the only way Gabe could see this playing out. Heck, if he hadn’t been on the receiving end of this assignment, he might have even considered it a good idea.

There were just a couple of problems with this particular plan that Jinx and Teresa had come up with for him. It would mean he’d have to spend a lot of time with his wife. A wife he didn’t want. A wife who didn’t want him. But she was also a vulnerable woman with a killer after her.

Hell.

He’d do what the Justice Department wanted him to do, and then he was out of there. Leigh could go back to whatever the hell she’d been doing, and he would get on with his life. All he had to do was keep her alive, catch the bad guy and leave. Especially, leave.

There was no way he’d allow himself to be drawn back into her life. No way.



LEIGH WAITED until Sanchez and the others walked out of the room. “Stay put,” she said, repeating the terse order he’d just given her. “As if I had a choice.”

In fact, her choices were extremely limited. Possibly even nil. She had amnesia, was hurt and didn’t know where she could go to get out of danger. That didn’t mean she trusted the three people who’d just left the room. Or that she believed them. She was almost positive they hadn’t told her the truth.

It’s what you have to tell her, Agent Teresa Walters had said before they knew she was awake. People didn’t usually make remarks like that if they planned to tell the truth.

The whole truth, anyway.

So just what did the others want Sanchez to keep from her? She certainly intended to find out.

Realizing that she had to go to the bathroom, Leigh tossed back the covers and swung her legs off the gurney. She was achy, and her vision was spotty. There was a thick white bandage completely encircling her right ankle, and when she stood, the stitches pinched.

She made use of a pair of green flip-flops that were under the gurney and went in search of the bathroom. It wasn’t hard to find. It was the only door other than the one through which her fearless protectors had exited.

The bathroom was enormous and had two vats filled with dirty linen and hospital-style gowns. The laundry chute was as wide as the bins, indicating the need to send plenty of soiled clothing to the laundry room. A regular clinic probably wouldn’t have such a need.

So just what was this place?

Since she hadn’t heard any traffic or sounds normally associated with a clinic, it was probably some secured area. Perhaps a military installation or maybe a safe house used by the FBI.

Now, just what did the FBI and an ATF agent want with a bookstore employee from Austin? Perhaps the books in the store weren’t the run-of-the-mill variety. If so, she was obviously more than just a concerned citizen.

Leigh put that thought on the back burner when she noticed the mirror above the sink. She approached it cautiously, afraid of what she might see in her own reflection. And equally afraid of what she might not see.

Disappointment soon replaced the cautiousness. She didn’t recognize a thing about herself. The face of a stranger stared back at her.

A troubled stranger.

Almost frantically, she studied her face harder, trying to force herself to see something familiar. She was pale and wondered if it was from the trauma or if that was her usual coloring. Perhaps a combination of both.

The skin surrounding the bandage was bruised—the purplish stain bled down to her cheekbone where someone had obviously hit her pretty hard. A blunt object was her guess.

Her features weren’t prominent. Average. She certainly wasn’t beautiful. Her hair was chin-length and cedar-colored, but since her roots were light brown, she figured that she wasn’t a natural redhead. She checked in the most obvious place to verify her conclusion, stretching out the waist of the scrubs to look inside.

No. She wasn’t a redhead.

She leaned closer to the mirror, suddenly puzzled by her eyes. They weren’t the same color. One was dark brown; the other, pale green. She automatically reached toward the brown eye and removed the colored contact that had camouflaged her iris. So, her eyes were really green, and since she could see perfectly without the contact, she had to believe she’d worn them for cosmetic reasons.

Why?

Colored contacts. Dyed hair. She’d disguised her appearance. It made sense. Perhaps she’d been hiding because someone wanted her dead. Too bad the disguise hadn’t worked. Obviously, someone had seen right through it and gone after her.

Leigh noticed the scar then. A puckered dimple on her right forearm. It appeared to be well healed, but she thought it might be a bullet wound. Or maybe her imagination was just working overtime. Just the sight of the injury, however, caused a sickening feeling in her stomach. It was yet another chilling reminder of her past she couldn’t remember.

She finished up in the bathroom, returned to the room and got back on the gurney. A moment later, Gabe pushed opened the door and came in with a large disposable cup in each hand.

“Coffee,” he announced. “I figured you’d need your caffeine fix by now.”

Leigh didn’t know about that, but the steamy brew smelled wonderful. “I’m a big coffee drinker?”

He nodded and glanced at one cup and then the other, apparently trying to decide which one was hers. He finally took a sip from one and grimaced. “Yours. Three sugars, just the way you like it.”

She took the cup, knowing she would indeed like it. Odd. Why had sugary coffee felt familiar and not her husband?

Her husband.

As she’d done to her own face in the mirror, Leigh scrutinized his. Actually, he wasn’t bad-looking. A little on the rough side, and the small scar on his chin only contributed to that image. His skin was a pale bronze, obviously a DNA contribution from the Hispanic heritage that his surname signified. The dark blue eyes, however, indicated some Anglo blood as well. All in all, it was a good mix that had produced an interesting face.

His eyes were…not bedroom eyes, even though it was the first description that sprang to mind. The dark lashes made them look half-closed, dreamy, but there was nothing bedroom about them. Those eyes meant business.

“Is the coffee all right?” Gabe asked when she took a sip.

“It’s fine. So, you know how I like my coffee—that still doesn’t mean I believe everything you’ve told me.” Placing her cup on the table beside his, she glanced at her ring finger and noticed a faint line. Not necessarily from a wedding band. But it was possible. “Did I have any ID on me when you pulled me out of the lake?”

He stretched out his leg so he could work his fingers into the front pocket of his jeans. He fished out a single key. “This was tucked under the floor mat in the car. It had your fingerprints on it.”

“It’s for a car?”

Sanchez shook his head. “You left the keys to your rental car in the ignition. This looks more like a house key. Is it familiar?”

“No.” It looked like a key, that’s all. A key to a house, and she had no idea where that house might be. Austin, maybe, since that’s where she supposedly worked. “You didn’t find a purse or wallet on me or in the car?”

“I think the person who tried to kill you probably took it.”

That was possible, which made her wonder if the attack was robbery related. But she didn’t think so. She probably wouldn’t be here if it’d been a simple robbery.

Leigh glanced at him. So far, he’d cooperated with her questions. Well, some of them anyway, but she had no way of knowing if what he’d told her was the truth or even part of the truth. Heck, she wasn’t even convinced that the man was truly her husband.

“Why didn’t you kiss me when you pulled me out of the water?” she asked. “If we’re really married, wouldn’t a kiss have been the husbandly thing to do?”

It happened so quickly, she didn’t have time to protest or wonder why she’d issued such a stupid invitation in the first place. Gabe slipped his hand around the back of her neck and angled her head. His mouth came to hers. Touched. Brushed. And lingered.

Before he got down to business.

The kiss that followed was hot and clever. Slightly rough and a heck of a lot longer than it should have been. It certainly wasn’t a husbandly peck. It had a slick veneer of all sorts of emotion, including some anger, but that didn’t quite cover up the pure, raw attraction that sizzled beneath.

When he finally set her free, there was no doubt in Leigh’s mind that she’d been kissed by someone who knew exactly how to do it.

Gabe looked deeply into her eyes. “Remember me now, mi vida?” he drawled, his tone a cocky challenge.

Actually, Leigh didn’t, but she thought she might like to remember him. Too bad that kiss muddled her brain even more than it already was.

She pushed him away and turned her head toward the window. There wasn’t much she could do about her erratic breathing, but she didn’t want him to see the telltale bewilderment that had to be in her eyes.

“Look, I may not know who I am, but I’m not stupid,” Leigh said crisply. “Other than the obvious thing of someone trying to kill me, something isn’t right.”

“Funny, it felt right to me.” When her gaze came to his, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip and flashed her a grin that set her teeth on edge.

“I didn’t mean that kiss. There has to be a reason why I have all these crazy feelings.” Leigh aimed her finger at him when Gabe started to speak. “And I’m not talking about your mouth on mine. Why won’t you tell me what’s really going on here?”

Gabe dropped onto the gurney right next to her. “You’ll be safer not knowing.”

“I didn’t buy that from Jinx, and I won’t buy it from you. I could regain my memory in the next minute, and if I follow through with that asinine theory, I’ll be in more danger than I am right now. Somebody wants me dead, and I don’t think they care if I have amnesia or not.”

He nodded eventually. “Okay. I’ll give you the condensed version.”

“Why not the whole thing?”

“It’ll only muddy the waters, and it won’t help you sort things out.” He didn’t wait for her to agree. “A little over two years ago you came across some sensitive information regarding a high-ranking government official named Joe Dayton.”

Leigh gave that some thought. All right. What he said could be true. “I found this when I was working at the bookstore in Austin?”

The corner of Gabe’s mouth kicked up. “No, you were working somewhere else at the time. And don’t bother to ask where, because I won’t tell you.”

“Another of Jinx’s orders, or did that come from Special Agent Walters?”

“Not Jinx. Not Teresa. My order. Like I said, it’ll only confuse you more if I overload you with a bunch of facts that you don’t need right now.”

Leigh wasn’t happy about it, but she’d take what she could get. Besides, on that point he might be right. “Okay, finish the short version. What about this Joe Dayton?”

“He was as dirty as they come,” he answered after hesitating. “We didn’t know if he was working alone or if what you learned would make you a target.”

She shook her head, not understanding. “So, why did he wait two years to come after me?”

“You’ve been hiding all this time.”

Finally, something made sense. But it was just the beginning. She needed a lot more pieces of information for this puzzle to come together.

Gabe’s pager began to beep. He jabbed the button to make the sound stop and sprang to his feet. In the same motion, he whipped out his pistol and reeled toward the door.

Leigh hadn’t thought she could be any more frightened, but that did it. Her heart began to pound. “What’s wrong?” she asked, getting off the gurney.

Gabe motioned toward the window. “See if anyone’s out there.”

She hobbled toward it, ignoring her stitches, and peeked through the side of the blinds. It was dark, and they were several floors off the ground, but she saw six cars in the parking lot.

“Nobody,” she reported. But the words hardly left her mouth when four men exited one of the cars. “Somebody,” she amended. “There are four of them.”

“Watch the door,” Gabe ordered and then traded places with her so he could glance out the window. “We don’t have much time. We have to get out of here.”

Leigh started out the door, but Gabe latched onto her arm and yanked her back. “We can’t go that way.”

“You’re not suggesting we use the window?”

“No. They probably left someone to take care of us if we try that.”

That was a chilling thought. Take care of us. In other words, kill them. “So, how do we get out?”

He didn’t answer. Gabe grabbed a box from one of the shelves and pulled out another gun. It looked even more deadly than the one he already had. He checked to make sure it was loaded. It was. And he thrust it into her hands.

“What—” But Leigh didn’t get a chance to protest. Gabe shoved open the bathroom door, pulling her inside with him. He held open the laundry hatch with his elbow and swung his leg into the opening.

“I’m going down first,” he told her. “Count to ten and follow me unless you hear gunfire. If that happens, barricade yourself in here and shoot anyone who comes through that door. And I mean anyone. Understand?”

She nodded and examined the gun. “Do I know how to use this?”

“You know.” He climbed into the duct. “Now, let’s hope you remember.”

Leigh hoped the same thing. “Let me guess—I learned how to fire guns like this at the bookstore?”

Gabe flashed her a dry grin and ignored her question. “There’s no safety on that piece. If necessary, aim and fire. And Leigh? This time do as I tell you.”

Before she could ask what he meant by that, he let himself drop. She kept her gaze on him until he disappeared into the tunnel.

“One,” Leigh counted.

She stood there for a few panicky seconds, wondering again if she should trust him. And wondering if she should follow him. She really had no reason to trust him, but she wouldn’t have any reason to trust those four men about to come through the door either. They no doubt wanted to kill her. She didn’t know for sure what Gabe wanted to do with her.

So this was the proverbial rock and a hard place?

“Ten,” she mumbled when she heard hurried footsteps in the hallway on the other side of the wall.

She climbed into the laundry hatch and let herself go. Moments later, she heard gunshots, but it was too late to stop her downward slide. Or anything else for that matter.

She was headed straight toward those deadly-sounding shots, and there was nothing she could do about it.




Chapter Three


Leigh saw Gabe just before she reached the bottom—a split-second glimpse of a man prepared to kill. He was behind a concrete post about fifteen feet from the laundry chute. He’d assumed a classic isosceles stance with a two-handed grip on his pistol. Every inch of him looked primed to fight.

“Take cover!” Gabe yelled. Someone punctuated his command with a spray of bullets.

She torpedoed out of the chute, quickly rolled over the side of the bin and dropped. She landed in an unladylike sprawl on the concrete floor.

“I said take cover. Now!” Gabe yelled.

She was certainly trying to do that. Unfortunately, her body didn’t want to cooperate. Leigh scrambled to her feet and with her flip-flops smacking against the floor, she ducked behind another of those concrete posts.

Should she try to get to Gabe? she wondered. Even with the obvious danger of someone shooting at them, she still considered the idea. It seemed a better option than being on her own when she didn’t know what to do.

The next bullets that strafed across the floor put a stop to that notion. She had to stay put.

From her position, she couldn’t see Gabe. There were more laundry bins, huge washing machines, industrial-size dryers and rows of metal tables. From the narrow view that she had, there were many places a gunman could hide.

Too many.

Besides, she didn’t even know if there was just one gunman. She’d seen four men in the parking lot, and it was entirely possible all four were somewhere in the room, waiting for her to make a mistake.

If she called out to Gabe to ask him what to do, she might give away her position and force him to give away his. He probably wouldn’t appreciate that. Sweet heaven. Another rock and a hard place.

“I’ll take that,” the man snarled. He snatched the gun from her hand and pressed it to her head.

Not Gabe. Someone else. One of the gunmen, no doubt. How the heck had he gotten so close? Leigh hadn’t heard a thing. Of course, her heart was pounding so loudly, she was practically deaf.

Relying purely on instinct, she stabbed her elbow into the man’s stomach and quickly spun around. Leigh used all her strength and rammed the heel of her right hand into his Adam’s apple. She followed it with a left-handed jab to his mouth. He hissed and staggered back.

Leigh saw him clearly then. Too clearly. He was most certainly one of the men from the parking lot. There was no expression in his muddy-colored eyes, no emotion on his face. He latched onto her neck and roughly twisted her so her back was against his chest.

“Quit fighting me,” he warned, shoving the gun even harder to her temple.

His voice was raspy, apparently from the blow she’d managed to deliver to his throat. That didn’t give her much satisfaction. He towered over her. And he was solid. He could easily kill her with his bare hands. Of course, he wouldn’t have to do something so menial since he had her gun and probably his as well.

“Let’s do this the right way,” the man yelled across the room to Gabe. “Depending on what you do, I can make this easy for her, or I can make it real slow and ugly.”

Leigh didn’t care much for those two choices. The man was no doubt talking about how he intended to kill her. “Step out where I can see you, Agent Sanchez,” he ordered.

She wasn’t sure what Gabe would do. Until she heard the thud of his weapon drop to the floor. He stepped out from behind the post and walked toward them with his hands tucked behind his head.

God. He was surrendering.

Her heart started to pound harder. She’d hoped he might be able to save them or at least buy some time so she could figure out what to do. But Gabe hadn’t done that. Instead, he’d surrendered to a man who would probably kill them both before she drew her next breath.

“Who are you working for?” Gabe asked him.

“No one who’s willing to bargain with you.”

“Then how about we bargain? Before you say no, I think you should know the woman you’re holding has plenty of money. I’m sure we can work out some financial arrangements that’d make it profitable for you to let her go.”

“Save your breath,” the man retorted. “I’ve got no plans to be a rich dead man, and that’s what’ll happen if I cut a deal with the likes of you.”

Her gaze connected with Gabe’s. There was a slight lift to his right eyebrow. For the first time, she recognized something in his eyes. Exactly what, she couldn’t say, but he was definitely trying to communicate.

In a move that seemed both in slow motion and at a speed not humanly possible, Gabe’s left hand whipped out from behind his head. He held another gun that he’d hidden. Something small and sleek. The fluorescent light licked the silvery metal and sent a flash across Leigh’s face. Gabe aimed the gun directly at her.

She had no time to think, no time to react. She briefly, very briefly, considered that Gabe and his gun would be the last things she’d ever see. But what she couldn’t figure out was why he wanted her dead, especially after he had saved her.

Gabe double-tapped the trigger. The shots cracked like enormous wads of chewing gum. Leigh felt warm spatters of blood on her cheek and waited for the pain or numbness to follow what was certainly a fatal head wound.

That didn’t happen.

Instead, the man behind her slumped into a heap, the pistol he’d held against her temple clattering to the floor.

Her breath shattered, a noise coming from deep within her throat. Leigh’s hands began to shake violently. Still, she kept her attention focused on Gabe, afraid to blink for fear he’d disappear before she could get to him.

Getting to him, she soon learned, wasn’t even necessary. It seemed he made it to her in one step. She grabbed onto him and held tight.

Without breaking her grip, Gabe picked up the gun he’d tossed on the floor and placed the smaller one into the slide holster on the back waist of his jeans. He handed Leigh the other weapon that the man had taken from her.

“There’s no need for you to see that,” he said, referring to the body. He led her toward the door.

He was right. There was no need for her to see the man. That didn’t stop Leigh from glancing back at the lifeless body and the perfectly centered hole in his head. Gabe had literally shot the man right between the eyes. The other bullet wound was only a fraction of an inch above the first one.

She pressed her hand to her stomach, hoping she didn’t get sick. “He’s dead?” she asked unnecessarily.

“He’s dead.”

“You could have shot me.”

Gabe slightly rearranged his expression, apparently insulted. “I wouldn’t have missed. Not ever.”

Leigh prayed she’d never have to test his accuracy again. “Well, thank you. That’s twice you’ve saved my life.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We’re not out of danger. We have to get away from here first.”

Leigh silently agreed. One man was dead, but there were at least three others who would probably be willing to do what their comrade had tried.

Gabe stopped when they reached a large metal door at the end of the room and turned to her. “Here are the rules. Stay behind me at all times. I want us back to back, moving together. Got that?”

“Yes, I think so.” Leigh hoped so anyway. She still felt woozy, and Gabe’s quickly spoken instructions seemed jumbled.

“Rule two—you watch our backs, and I’ll take care of anything that comes from any other direction.” He tipped his head to her gun. “By any chance, do you remember how to use that?”

She eyed the weapon as if it was a foreign object. “Maybe.”

Gabe repeated that, adding a soundless word of profanity. “All right. If you have to shoot, hold the gun level and brace your wrist with your left hand. That’s a lot of firepower, and I don’t want you dropping your weapon when you feel the recoil. Shoot to kill. Understand?”

Gabe didn’t wait for her to answer, not that Leigh had anything to say about the abbreviated lesson on how to kill. He spun her around so they were back to back. He eased open the door and peered into the parking lot.

The alarm started almost immediately. It wasn’t a typical security system that clamored loudly enough to be heard blocks away. It was a piercing hum, but it was certainly meant to serve as a warning.

“All right. Let’s go,” Gabe said. “Remember everything I’ve told you.”

Leigh didn’t know how he expected her to do that. She literally couldn’t remember her name so how would she keep all the other things straight? Maybe she’d get lucky, and her instincts would kick in if she had to shoot.

The night air engulfed her when they stepped outside. It was humid, almost stifling. Even with the drone of the alarm, the place was eerily silent. No traffic noise. No birds. Nothing. Just the sound of their steps as Gabe orchestrated them away from the building.

Shoot to kill, he’d told her. That made sense because a wounded gunman could still have a deadly aim. She had to wonder if she could kill. Or if she’d ever killed before.

God, that seemed an awful thing not to know.

Gabe skirted along a row of shrubs, following the semistraight line until they came to a Dumpster. They ducked behind it just as the door to the laundry area flew open. Milky yellow light poured out into the darkness.

So did two armed men.

Gabe latched onto her hand and forced her to run. “Stay with me.”

Shots shattered the near silence, sounding so close that Leigh didn’t want to know just how close they were coming to Gabe and her. She lost count of how many times the guns fired, but they seemed to keep pace with her racing heartbeat.

Leigh hadn’t remembered her flip-flops or her hurt ankle until they started to sprint. Not ideal running shoes, and the stitches tore at her skin. Somehow, Gabe managed to keep her on her feet, even when they left the pavement and darted over a patch of uneven ground.

The yard, such that it was, melted into a greenbelt cluttered with stubby trees and rocks. An eight-foot-high masonry fence was just beyond that. Gabe didn’t ask if it was something she could climb—he just scaled it, dragging her like a rag doll with him.

When they reached the other side, she noticed the motorcycle. It was nestled between two scrub oaks, but not even the darkness could camouflage the chrome.

“We’re riding that?” she asked in a frantic whisper.

“Yes.” He slipped his gun back into his shoulder holster, straddled the leather seat and started the engine. “Keep your weapon handy. We just might need it before this is over.”

She nodded. Somewhere behind them, close behind, those men were probably gaining ground. Still, she took the time to eye the motorcycle. “Do you have helmets?”

“No!”

It wouldn’t do any good to point out that riding without helmets was dangerous. He’d no doubt point out that bullets and gunmen were even more deadly.

And he’d be right.

Gabe didn’t try to alleviate her fears. He merely latched onto her wrist and hauled her on the bike behind him. Within seconds, he had the motorcycle rumbling through the night and away from the gunmen.

Leigh quickly learned she had to hang on or fall off, and the easiest thing to hang on to was Gabe. While still clinging to the gun, she wrapped her arms around his waist, pressed her cheek to his back and held on. And she prayed, hoping the God of whichever religion she professed would hear her. Right now, she needed someone of a divine nature on her side.

After all, she was with a man who killed as easily as he breathed, and Leigh knew all too well that he held her life—and possibly even her heart—in his hands.




Chapter Four


Gabe had a lot of questions. And too few answers.

That did not please him.

He was reasonably sure he’d lost the hired guns. Fairly certain he could remember his way down the dirt roads that snaked around the bayou. And he was hopeful he’d managed to save their lives. For the time being anyway. However, he wasn’t at all sure what the heck was going on. Or who’d just tried to kill them.

Still, none of those things occupied his thoughts for long. It was the woman behind him that he couldn’t get off his mind. His wife.

At the clinic, Jinx had ordered him to be nice to Leigh. But that was only the tip of the flipping iceberg. They also wanted him to lie through his teeth. He was supposed to tell her everything was all right between them. That they’d had problems in the past but had worked them all out.

Yeah, right.

Between the lies and being nice, he was also supposed to get her to trust him. Just like that. He was supposed to erase all the bad feelings between them and regain her confidence. He’d have an easier time forgetting that she’d ever been his wife.

However, it didn’t matter if the task was impossible. The Justice Department expected him to give his all. Heck, he’d already done that.

And then he’d made it worse by kissing her.

That shouldn’t have happened. What the devil had he been thinking when he put his mouth on hers? That was just it—he hadn’t thought. He’d acted. Reacted. And much to his disgust, he’d even enjoyed it. He couldn’t let it happen again, not with so much at stake.

Easy to say. Hard to do.

It was especially hard since she was right behind him. She had her arms wrapped around his waist—apparently holding on for dear life. No surprise there. Leigh hated motorcycles.

Of course, she probably hated him, too.

He wouldn’t mention that to her yet. If she was faking this amnesia, then she already knew how she felt about him. If her memory loss was real, it would be a stupid time to remind her of their past.

Gabe drove nearly two hours before he stopped. Until then, he stayed on narrow dirt roads, using only the moonlight to keep him out of the ditches. When he finally found familiar ground, he pulled the motorcycle into a clutter of trees and turned off the engine.

“Any idea where we are?” Leigh asked, climbing off the seat. She massaged her backside and made a few sounds of discomfort.

He got off, too, and stretched. “Between Baton Rouge and New Orleans.” Actually, they were still very close to New Orleans, but he’d taken the most circuitous route to get there. Hopefully, that had given Jinx enough time to get a few things under control. If not, then it would be one long night.

“Are we safe here?”

Gabe glanced around at the dense brush. “Hopefully.”

“You don’t sound hopeful.”

He shrugged. “Guarantees are a rare thing in life, Leigh, but we’re a heck of lot safer here than we were back at that clinic.”

She stayed quiet a moment. “And you don’t believe those men will follow us here?”

“No.” Well, he was almost certain they wouldn’t anyway. Getting to this particular area of the bayou wasn’t easy unless a person knew the way. He knew the way. God willing, the gunmen didn’t.

“So, is this the part when you tell me what’s really going on?” she asked.

Gabe groaned. He didn’t want to play a question-and-answer game tonight. Keep her alive. Catch the bad guys. Oh yeah, and, Be nice to her. At no time had anyone said a thing about answering her questions.

“You know what’s going on,” Gabe briskly assured her. “Some gunmen came after us, and we got away.”

“There’s more to it than that. How about letting me in on who those men are and why they want to kill us?”

“That, mi vida, is the big question of the day.”

“Are you saying you don’t know who’s behind this?” She didn’t wait for him to confirm that. “That breach of security at the clinic didn’t happen by itself. And who’s to blame for that, huh? Who was in charge of guarding the place?”

Gabe spat out some profanity. “The FBI.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Your own people? Well, that’s just great.”

It didn’t exactly please Gabe either, but the breach hadn’t necessarily come from anyone in the Bureau, especially not from Jinx. It could have been an outside source. In other words, he still had nothing definite. Gabe didn’t like that. He wanted something definite.

“Come on,” he insisted. “We need to get moving.”

“On foot?”

“Well, since there’s deep mud ahead, and the motorcycle would get stuck, I don’t see any other way.” And with that, he took her gun, put it in the waist of his jeans and snagged her around the hips. Like a caveman claiming his woman, he tossed her over his shoulder.

“Hey! What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Leigh complained.

Gabe began to walk, keeping the same pace he would have had she not been on his shoulder. “Carrying you.”

She wiggled, squirmed and otherwise tried to twist her way out of his grip. “Put me down!”

“No can do. You have stitches in your ankle, remember? Now, let’s see if I can recall basic first aid.” He pretended to think about it. “By now, those stitches have probably worked their way partially loose, so you have an open wound. Add to that some of this sloppy, wormy mud, and I see the potential for a really nasty infection. What do you think?” He didn’t let her answer. “I don’t have time to take you to the doctor, so be still.”

Just like that, Leigh stopped struggling, and her body practically went limp against him. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that other than traipsing through a swamp, you actually have a plan?”

He made his way around a large cypress tree and its kneelike roots that stood almost a foot above the ground. “I have one, but I don’t feel especially good about it.”

Keep her alive. Catch the bad guys. Nope, he didn’t feel good about that plan at all. It definitely lacked the necessary components for a successful mission.

“It’d be a heck of a lot easier if you just had your memory,” Gabe let her know. “Are you sure you’re not faking this amnesia?”

“No, I’m not faking it. You’ve already asked me that. Besides, why would I fake something like this?”

He could think of a reason. Leigh could be using the ploy so she wouldn’t have to tell him why she’d really returned. “I don’t have an answer to that one either, mi vida.”

She poked him hard on the back. “Don’t call me darling.”

Gabe grinned in spite of his rotten mood. Well, she remembered some of her Spanish anyway, along with remembering that she didn’t like him to use that little term of endearment. And that’s why he’d done it. Maybe he could work it into the conversation again. Numerous times. It might make him feel better if she was as annoyed as he was.

He stopped on a solid patch of ground, deposited Leigh on her feet and pulled back some low branches. Just as he hoped it would be, there was the truck hidden behind the curtain of Spanish moss.

“Thank you, Jinx,” Gabe mumbled and opened the door on the driver’s side. “I owe you another one.”

“Jinx?” she asked. “What does he have to do with this?”

“He left this truck here for us, and he sent that warning over the pager to tell us those gunmen were in the parking lot.” Gabe pulled down some moss and used it to clean the mud off his boots. “We’ll spend the night here and head out at first light.”

Leigh stared at him. “Here?”

“Yes, here.” Gabe motioned for her to get inside. He slapped at a couple of mosquitoes that started to feast on his neck. “And hurry up before these things eat us alive.”

She got in all right, after a loud huff, and she scooted toward the other side to get as far away from him as possible. Even then, they were practically shoulder to shoulder when Gabe joined her.

“Might as well get comfortable,” he told her.

Her eyebrow arched. “You’re kidding, right?”

Yeah. He was. There wasn’t much chance of getting comfortable on a narrow seat with Leigh. Still, it probably wasn’t a good idea to say that to her. It would only start another round of questions.

He pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it on the floor along with his holster and all three weapons. “We’ll have to leave the windows up because of the mosquitoes, so it’ll get hot in here. Wanna take off those scrubs?”

She gave him a look that could have withered a new fence post. “Not even if I were on fire and there wasn’t a drop of water for miles around.”

He chuckled and draped his forearm over the steering wheel. “Lie down.”

She glanced at the seat. And then at his bare chest. “You want me to lie down?”

He rolled his eyes. “Hell. Leigh, we’re married. And even if we weren’t, we’d still have to get some rest. That means the seat or outside. I have no intentions of sleeping outside with the snakes and mosquitoes, do you?”

She looked out the window, apparently to weigh her options. Not that she had any options to weigh. She must have figured that out because without a sound, she lay on the seat. With her feet only inches from him, she let her hand dangle over the guns.

Gabe spun her around like a top and put her head right next to his lap.

With her eyes narrowed to slits, Leigh stared up at him. “Is there any particular reason you’re treating me like a prisoner?”

“You bet. I know you too well. Right now, you figure you can’t trust anyone but yourself. You wonder whose side I’m on. In the next hour or so, you’ll start to think you need to get away from me, even at the risk of becoming gator bait. Well, until you figure out I’m the best thing you’ve got going, then I’m staying close. Understand?”

Her mouth twisted as if she’d tasted something sour. “Yes, I understand.” She rolled onto her side, facing the back of the seat. Immediately, she made a strange sound.

“Now what?” he snarled.

“The seat smells like fishing bait.”

Unfortunately, she didn’t smell like bait, but it might have been better for him if she had. Since she was so close, Gabe couldn’t avoid taking in her scent. The smell of the scrubs. Mixed with that was the hint of warm leather from the motorcycle seat. There was sweat, not stale and heavy, but just a hint. And beneath all of that was Leigh’s own unique scent. Distinctively female.

And more than a little distracting.

It was a challenge, but Gabe had to prevent that scent from turning his brain to mush. He forced himself to remember what she’d done. It worked. Until she spoke.

“We don’t get along very well, do we, Sanchez?”

He considered lying. A Justice Department slant on the truth. But there was something in her voice. A plea for the truth, and the truth was exactly what he gave her. “No. We don’t.”

She paused, apparently letting that sink in. “If our situations were reversed, would you trust me?”

Now he’d lie. Except it wouldn’t really be a lie. Yes, their past had been, well, checkered. But if it were a matter of life or death, Leigh would come through for him. Gabe didn’t have to guess about that.

“I’d trust you,” he finally said. “Now, give it a rest and go to—”

“I hate being like this.”

“Sorry, but it’s the best I can offer under the circumstances. I promise, there was a time when you didn’t mind sleeping this close to me.”

“I’m not talking about that. Not entirely anyway,” she added apparently as an afterthought. “I hate not knowing who I am or who you are. You could be an ax murderer, and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

She looked up at him. Gabe looked down and met her gaze in the moonlight. He didn’t want to stare at her, but his body seemed to have a different idea. It was hard not to remember that this was a woman he’d once loved. A woman who’d loved him right back. Then, things had fallen apart.

And that was a whole set of memories he didn’t want to deal with right now.

“I’m not an ax murderer,” he heard himself say. “I gave that up years ago.”

She actually smiled, briefly, but there was a frown not too far behind. “I know nothing about you or me except the few things you’ve let me know. I don’t even know my middle name. I’m too scared to admit I’m scared because I don’t know if I can trust you with that admission of weakness. I’m afraid you’ll use it against me.”

“Leigh.” His voice was gruff. Then it changed. It softened. His hand was already on her hair. It was definitely intimate contact, but he didn’t pull away. Gabe figured he would kick himself for it later. “Being scared doesn’t mean you’re weak. It just means you’re scared. And smart. Stupid people are too stupid to be scared. By the way, your middle name is Ann.”

“Ann,” she repeated on a heavy sigh. “It doesn’t even sound familiar.”

Gabe said nothing. He leaned his head against the cool window and listened to the sound of her voice.

“I don’t know what I was. Who I am. You don’t know how frustrating that is.”

Oh yes he did. Gabe knew a lot about frustration. After all, Leigh was right next to him, and more than anything, he wanted to touch her. Maybe even kiss her again. The old wounds stopped him. And the fact she’d probably slap him if he tried to do anything like that. She didn’t know about the old wounds, but that didn’t mean she trusted him.

“I seem to know a little bit about a lot of things,” she continued. “Like I knew the clinical name for my amnesia, but I didn’t know you. What was I, Gabe? And don’t you dare say I worked in a bookstore in Austin, because I know that’s not right.”

He debated telling her since the truth would just create more questions. But without the truth, he didn’t stand of chance of tapping into her mind to find out what had gone wrong.

“You were an FBI agent,” Gabe answered. “The last year you were with the Bureau, you were part of the ERT, the Evidence Response Team.”

“Yes.” She nodded. Paused. And repeated it. “Now, that feels right.”

It should. She’d been one of the best. “You resigned after all of this happened with the corrupt government official.”

She pushed out a deep breath. Of relief, maybe. It didn’t feel much like relief to Gabe. Her warm breath dusted his bare stomach. Not good. Maybe he should have risked roasting and kept his shirt on after all.

He inched slightly away from her. Not that he could inch very far without leaving the truck.

“So, I was working for the FBI and came across evidence against this official? Then what happened?” she asked.

“Things resolved themselves. At least we thought they had.” He shrugged. “And then you disappeared.”

Leigh started to come off the seat, but Gabe laid a hand on her shoulder to stop her. That would put her mouth much to close to his. He couldn’t handle that right now. Best to keep as much distance between their mouths as possible. Another of those husbandly kisses was the last thing either of them needed.

“I think you left because of me,” Gabe said, anticipating her next question. “We’d talked about a divorce.” It was the truth, even though it was something Jinx and Walters had ordered him not to tell her. “It’s late. We should get some—”

“You didn’t know where I was all this time?”

Hell, she just didn’t intend to stop. “Sometimes I knew,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t quite catch up with you.”

“Was I ever in Houston?”

“Probably.” And he made a mental note that it was the second time she’d mentioned that particular city. “You’re originally from Dallas. Why? Do you remember something about Houston?”

“Not really. It’s just a place that keeps coming to mind, but I can’t associate it with anything. Houston might mean nothing.” A moment later, she dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “I have to ask. Considering our marital problems, just how hard did you look for me during the past two years?”

“I looked,” he said defensively. “You’re the one who walked out. You didn’t want anyone to find you.”

“Apparently someone found me,” she pointed out.

“Maybe. Or maybe you had no choice but to be found. Sometimes things play out that way.”

She stared up at him. “What does that mean?”

“It means you need to get some sleep.” Gabe yawned. Not a fake one either. It’d been a hell of a long day, and he was bone-tired. “Who knows? You might wake up tomorrow and remember everything.”

She didn’t disagree, but the little sound she made wasn’t one of hope. Still, at the moment, hope was about the best thing they had going for them.

Hope that Leigh would regain her memory.

Hope that those gunmen would stop following them.

Hope that he could, somehow, keep her alive.




Chapter Five


Leigh awakened slowly, trying to get her bearings before she moved or even opened her eyes. Her bearings, however, were wrapped all around her. She was on the truck seat cradled in a man’s arms. Gabe’s arms. Her face was buried against his neck, and his musky scent surrounded her.

This was not good. Not good at all. That scent went straight through her like a triple shot of whiskey. Not a memory, exactly. More like a feeling that what they were doing was right.

And wrong.

Quickly but not so easily, she unraveled herself from his snug grip so she could get to a sitting position. The moment she moved, Gabe did as well. He came off the seat, reaching for his gun in the same motion.

Their gazes collided. His eyes were still ripe with sleep, and she saw some of the emotions that he’d kept so guarded, so under control the day before. The concern. The stress.

And other things she didn’t even want to explore.

Leigh took a deep breath. Just who was this man that she’d once promised to love forever? She was almost afraid to find out.

Pulling herself away from that naked gaze, and from his partly naked body, Leigh opened the truck door and stepped out, careful not to put direct pressure on her wounded ankle. She made a sweeping glance around the thick cypress woods. The sun was just rising over a misty-topped bayou, and with the exception of a snow-white egret, they were alone.

Completely alone.

“Are you all right?” Gabe asked.

No, she wasn’t. Reality was even harsher in the early-morning light than it had been in the darkness. She was in the middle of a bayou with a man she didn’t know. She had no memory. And someone wanted her dead. Not the best way to start the day. Oh, and she was scared. Add to that a wicked headache and what felt like an overwhelming need for a cup of coffee, and it didn’t seem she had a lot to look forward to.

Leigh leaned against the truck and tried to catch her breath. “So, what happens now?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

With catlike grace, Gabe slid off the seat and stood beside her. He brought his shoulder holster and gun with him, draping it over his arm. “We try to find out who’s behind this and then get you to a safer place.”

At least he seemed to think that was possible. She wasn’t so sure anymore. Maybe there were no safe places to go.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Still shirtless, the sunlight danced over his deeply tanned chest. And the jeans. God, the jeans. They gloved parts of him that she wished weren’t so gloved.

Those were things she definitely shouldn’t notice.

Still, it was hard not to notice and respond to him since he was an attractive man. Even if they hadn’t shared a past she couldn’t remember, that attraction probably would have still been there.

The attraction.

The emotions.

The uncertainty of their past.

Those things frightened Leigh almost as much as coming face-to-face with the person who’d tried to kill her. Eventually, she would have to remember what had torn Gabe and her apart. Leigh wasn’t exactly looking forward to reliving any of that.

Gabe lifted the lid on the storage bin in the bed of the truck. Muscles flexed as he fished around inside and came up with two bottles of water. “I don’t guess your memory returned overnight, huh?” He passed one of the bottles her way.

Leigh shook her head. No memory. Just a headache and an unwanted physical attraction to the man who leaned against the truck beside her.

She didn’t plan to ask him to put on his shirt. No sense letting him in on the fact there was a whirl of emotions she didn’t understand, or want to feel. Emotions that included a good old-fashioned case of lust. She might not remember Gabe, but her hormones sure did.

He took a long drink of water. “So, nothing about this place seems familiar?”

Leigh looked around again, hoping she’d missed something that would jar her memory. She hadn’t. “No, should it?”




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/delores-fossen/a-man-worth-remembering/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.