by Eve Gaddy
“How did you get involved?”
“Remember I told you my brother, Austin, is a neurologist in Marietta? He heard they were looking to hire a private investigator who knew South America and suggested me.”
“It took you a long time to find me.”
Feeling defensive because she was right, he said, “You’re very good at losing people. You not only managed to stay hidden from me, you evaded the others who were after you as well. You’re extremely resourceful.”
His cell phone rang and he answered gratefully. “Hardeman.”
“Here’s what I found out so far,” Felix said. “No embezzlement charges have been filed. However, Rolando Villareal has filed a missing person’s report. On his wife.”
“Shit.”
“I’ve got worse news. He’s planning to charge you with kidnapping.”
“That’s rich, considering I’m the one who stopped her from being kidnapped. Twice. Why me?”
“Because they knew you were looking for her. And they must know, via the failed kidnapping attempts, that you’ve found her now.”
“You said planning to. Even if he does try to charge me, all Glenna has to do is deny I’ve coerced her.”
“Yes, but I still think you’d better get out of the country as quickly as you can.”
“Tomorrow morning, on a nine a.m. flight.”
“All right. Be careful, buddy. And don’t go anywhere, just to be safe. Neither one of you needs to be seen.”
What the hell are we supposed to do between now and tonight, stuck in the room?
I can think of a lot of things.
Things that can’t happen. Damn it.
Chapter Twelve
“That was Felix, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.” He was standing with his back to her but he turned around at her question. Still, he said nothing else.
She felt a spurt of annoyance at his silence. Was she going to have to drag everything out of him? “What did he say? It didn’t sound good from your side. What was all that about you being charged?”
“Sit down and I’ll tell you,” he said.
Grudgingly, she sat on the couch and waited for him to continue.
“You’re not being charged with embezzlement. Which is good, considering if you were you could be extradited to face the charges.”
“Oh, yay,” she said sarcastically. “What else?”
“Rolando Villareal claims you two are married.”
“What? Married? That means—he must be the one in my dream. But we weren’t married.” In her dream. Who knew if that was true?
“But you don’t know,” he reminded her. “Unless you’ve remembered something and haven’t told me.”
“No, just what I dreamed. Surely I’d remember something like being married.”
“Why? You can’t remember you were pregnant. You haven’t remembered your brothers, either.”
True. Damn it. “He could be lying. Why didn’t he tell my brothers we were married when they called, if that’s true?”
“I don’t know. There are definitely holes in the story. Rolando recently filed a missing persons report on you. Why he waited so long is unclear. But now, according to Felix, he’s planning to have me charged with kidnapping.”
“You didn’t kidnap me. So he can’t. Can he?”
“I’m not sure. Neither is Felix. Probably not, if you deny I kidnapped you or coerced you in any way.”
“You’re still worried.”
He rubbed the back of his neck and paced away a few steps. “Yeah, I am. I don’t trust the Villareals. I think they’ll do whatever it takes to destroy any evidence of their crime.”
“But I’ve turned everything over to the police. It doesn’t matter now.”
“They don’t know that. And if those fake bills make it to an uncorrupted law enforcement agency in Argentina, their operation is toast.”
“That’s not all, though, is it? Are you afraid they’re still going to come after me?”
“It’s sure as hell a possibility. Especially since they probably still believe you’ve got evidence on their operation. Regardless, we’re leaving the country tomorrow morning. But in the meantime, we have to stay here.”
“Here? You mean here, as in we’re stuck in the room? We can’t even go to the hotel restaurant?”
“Felix thinks we should stay out of sight until we leave for the airport in the morning.”
“Great. What are we going to do for the next nine or ten hours until it’s time to go to bed?”
Mitch had a funny look on his face. But he only said, “Surf the web, watch TV. Sleep.”
“If I sleep now I won’t sleep tonight.”
He shrugged. “Watch TV. Or you can use my computer. Look up Marietta and your family. Look up the Villareal ranch. Look up the Villareals. Maybe something will spark a memory.”
“If I’m using your computer what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to sleep. I can pretty much sleep anywhere, anytime.”
Glenna spent the next few hours watching TV and surfing the web on Mitch’s computer. She looked up everything she could find about Marietta, the Gallaghers and the Villareals, but nothing created a spark of remembrance. Well, that wasn’t totally correct. When she’d seen a picture of Rolando Villareal she’d gotten a bad feeling, but that could have been due to the dream. She was almost certain now that the man in her dream, the one she was running away from, was Rolando.
True to his word, Mitch stretched out on top of the bedspread and was asleep within minutes. From time to time she looked over at him. He really was a good-looking guy. She’d noticed it before, the first time she’d seen him. After all, she didn’t see men like him or his buddy Felix, for that matter, every day. But she hadn’t had a chance to study him like she could now that he was asleep. His dark brown hair was wavy and almost reached his collar, mostly one length with medium sideburns. His face was stubbled, whether by design or simply because he hadn’t had time to shave, she didn’t know. He had a straight nose, well-defined eyebrows and unusually pretty eyes that changed color easily.
He didn’t look young or innocent sleeping. In sleep he looked much as he did awake: a strong, capable man who could handle himself in a variety of situations. His gun and back holster lay on the nightstand beside him. She bet if she yelled or he heard a strange sound, he’d wake up instantly and have the gun in hand in seconds.
Far from bothering her, she liked knowing that. It made her feel safe. Which, with the Villareals and their hirelings looking for her, was important. Though she was tempted to test her theory, she didn’t. First of all, he looked peaceful and she knew he had to be tired still. Second, because she had a feeling it would really piss him off.
It was hard to know for sure, of course, but Glenna wanted to believe she was normally a confident, accomplished woman. But if she was so accomplished then why had the cattle business she’d been managing been run into the ground? Why had the Villareals lost their money? Because of something Glenna did or didn’t do? She had no idea. Mitch and her family were giving her the benefit of the doubt. Glenna wasn’t so sure she deserved it. Even if she had screwed up, though, that didn’t mean the Villareals’ descent into crime could be pinned on her.
Putting that possibility aside, she thought about Mitch, a much more pleasant topic. She was getting to know Mitch. She liked him. To be honest, she more than liked him. The man was hot. And yeah, he was the only man she knew. Whatever. It didn’t matter, both because she had no idea if she was married or whether that was a lie, and because she suspected Mitch thought of her as just a job, and a pain in the ass at that. She went back to the Internet with a sigh.
A few minutes later Mitch woke up. “Find anything helpful?” he asked, still lying on the bed.
“Nothing that jarred my memory. Is there a way to find out if I’m really married?”
“I can have my assistant look into it if you want.”
“I need to know. I haven’t r
ead anything about Rolando Villareal getting married on the Internet. Which to me is a good indication that he was lying. The Villareal spread and their legitimate business are well known. I’d think there would have been something about the wedding in the society pages, at the least. Even if not, it should be possible to find some record of it.”
He got up and walked over to the desk to look over her shoulder at the computer. “Pictures didn’t help, huh?”
“No.” Maybe she wasn’t going to remember. Ever. “I looked up Marietta too. Same result. I did like the pictures of the ranch, and particularly Dylan’s horses, but I don’t know if that means anything.”
“Let me look at a site I know. I might find the answer to your question there.” He reached over to type on the keyboard.
“Do you want me to move?”
He turned his head to look at her and their eyes met. They locked gazes for a long, long moment. His eyes were gray-blue now, dark-lashed and beautiful. His mouth was close, and very tempting.
His gaze fastened on her lips. Flicked back to her eyes, and then to her mouth again. If he kissed her would his kiss be gentle or rough? Leisurely or urgent? What if she kissed him? Would he pull back? Or move closer?
They both looked away.
What the hell is the matter with me? I shouldn’t be thinking about kissing him.
“What did you say?”
“I asked if you wanted me to move. So you could get to the keyboard more easily.”
“No, you’re fine.” He went back to typing so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined that momentary reaction.
She didn’t think so.
He pulled up a site, then typed in a query. “There’s nothing here, right off,” he said after a quick look. “Louise will look into it more thoroughly. I’ll email her the details.”
Glenna pushed the chair back and stood. “Here, sit down.”
He took her place and she wandered over to the window. The view overlooked the airport entrance, but behind that you could see the Andes. Beautiful mountains that gave her a feeling of familiarity. Could that be because Marietta sat between two mountain ranges? Or did it simply mean she’d seen the Andes before?
A little while later Mitch pushed himself away from the desk and said, “I sent Louise the information. She’ll get back to me as soon as she finds something. Or if she doesn’t. I’m good online but Louise is amazing. If there’s something to find, she’ll find it.”
Glenna nodded, then said, “This is off the subject, but I’ve been wondering something.”
“About what?” He sounded wary.
“That thing you did when those men tried to break into the hotel room. When you took their guns.”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Can you teach me how to do it?”
“Teach you how to disarm someone with a gun?”
“Yes. What if it happens again and you’re not around?”
“One reason we’re stuck in the room is so it won’t happen again. But—” he added before she could protest, “it sure as hell won’t hurt you to know how to react if someone pulls a gun on you. It’s not like no one ever gets mugged.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“Sure. Why the hell not?” He walked to the bedside table, picked up his gun and took out the magazine, then emptied the chamber. “Okay, the first thing is you need to remain calm. Which sounds stupid, I know. But when you panic, you freeze and that can be deadly.”
Then he took her through two different scenarios: one when the gunman was behind her and one where he was facing her. He didn’t simply show her how, he made her practice over and over until he was satisfied she’d learned the lesson. Or at least she’d thought he was satisfied until he said, “Now, practice this daily until it becomes second nature.”
“Daily? Are you kidding?”
“Hell, no, I’m not kidding. If you’re serious about learning to disarm someone, you need to practice. A lot.”
And who am I supposed to practice with when you’re gone? But she didn’t say it aloud because she didn’t want to think about Mitch leaving. Not until she had to.
“It’s not time for dinner yet,” Glenna said. “I’ve got a deck of cards in my backpack. We could play card games.”
“You remember how to play card games?”
“I do.” It was one way she’d made enough money to support herself while she’d been on the run.
His eyes narrowed. “Why do I think there’s more to it?”
She hid a grin. “I can’t imagine. How about a little poker?”
“Poker, huh.” He studied her and said, “You’re a card shark.”
“I wouldn’t call myself a card shark.”
“Which means you are.”
“Surely you’re not afraid to play me.”
“Deal ’em.” He took a seat at the table and watched her shuffle and deal. She handled the cards with great familiarity. After the first hand, he was certain. Yep, she was a shark all right.
“I’m glad we weren’t playing for real money,” Mitch said an hour later. “Damn, you’re good.”
“Thanks. I wonder where I learned how to play like that?”
“Like a killer shark, you mean?”
“You flatter me. I’m not that good.” She sighed and scooped up her pile of “winnings”. Mostly pieces of paper with amounts written on them, but there were a few coins too. “When I couldn’t find work I played poker. Most men down here don’t think a woman can play that well, so it was usually easy to make enough to tide me over until the next town and the next job.”
“You didn’t have problems finding games?”
“No, the men were anxious to play with me because they thought I’d be easy pickings. And it’s not like I played professional poker.”
It would have been funny to see the men’s reactions once they found out how wrong they’d been. “You do have four brothers. I suspect they taught you.”
Shrugging, she said, “I guess.” She folded her hands together on top of the table. “Do you think I’m ever going to remember?”
“Everything?”
“Anything.”
She sounded so forlorn. Mitch tried to imagine what it would feel like to suddenly be adrift in the world, not knowing a soul. To have to fend for yourself in that situation, not to mention, running from a threat you couldn’t even be sure was real. And then have the threat turn out to be all too real.
He reached over, covered her hand with his and patted it. “I’m sure you’ll remember something. Total amnesia is rare, I believe.” Honestly, he wasn’t at all sure of that, but he didn’t think it would hurt her to retain some hope. She didn’t speak. He squeezed her hand lightly. “Hey, you’re doing a hell of a lot better than I would be in your place. Better than ninety-nine percent of people would be, I’m sure.” It would be way too easy to fall under the spell of her green eyes, so full of trust, trust in him. He let go of her hand and stood up. “Are you hungry? We could order dinner.”
“I’m not that hungry but if you want something we can go ahead and order.”
He picked up the menu. “I’m going to have a steak sandwich. What do you want?”
“A steak sandwich is fine.” She got up from the table and walked over to him.
Just as he was about to pick up the phone, she spoke. “Mitch, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“You’re going to think it’s strange.”
“Does it have to do with food?”
“No.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. What is it?”
“Would you mind...holding me?”
For a minute he just stared at her. “Hold you?” His voice damn near cracked.
“I’m not trying to hit on you, I swear. But I just need some human contact. So would you mind?”
Mind? Hell, no, he didn’t mind. But he knew it would be a mistake. What was he supposed to say? No? No, because I want to do more than that? Way more than just hold you? H
e could either refuse, in which case he’d feel like a real dick or he could suck it up and do what she asked. And hope that he could keep his shit together long enough to simply hold her and not do something totally off limits. Like kiss her. And strip off her clothes and make love to her. Don’t even go there.
“Never mind. Forget I asked. It was stupid.”
“Come here,” he said gruffly and held out his arms. She walked into them like she belonged there. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest. He put his arms around her and simply held her, doing his damnedest to think of something, anything else other than that he held a beautiful woman in his arms and he couldn’t even kiss her.
Or could he?
No, you dumbshit, you can’t.
They stood there a while, in each other’s arms, without speaking. “What are you thinking?” she asked.
“You don’t want to know.” Well, fuck, how did that slip out? What better way to make a woman curious?
“I think I do.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and stepped away from her, but he couldn’t make himself let go. Searching her eyes, he saw guileless trust in hers. Of course she’s guileless. How could she lie? She didn’t know enough about herself to lie.
There was something else in her eyes, damn it. Desire. And no, he wasn’t imagining it. Her lips were full and tempting, and for a moment he wished he had no scruples. But, damn it, he did. His fingers tightened on her shoulders before he released her, turned away and said harshly, “This is not going to happen.”
She didn’t pretend ignorance. “Why?”
“Do I really have to list the reasons?”
“It’s just a kiss, Mitch.”
Apparently, he did. “A kiss that isn’t going to happen. You’re a client. I don’t kiss my clients.”
“My brothers are your clients, not me.”
“A technicality. You have amnesia. That should be reason enough.”
Her brows knit together. “I don’t see why. I have amnesia, therefore you can’t kiss me?”
