Green Beret Bodyguard

by Carol Ericson

  Back to business. Lola tugged at the ends of her damp blouse. “He said you were dead.”

  “Dead?” Jack’s nostrils flared. “Your friend is out of the loop. The Agency doesn’t think I’m dead. They beamed my name and face to every computer screen across Europe.”

  “Because they think you betrayed your country.”

  “Obviously. That’s why I can’t contact any government agency.”

  “Maybe if you explained…” Lola bit her lip. What could he explain? He didn’t remember anything.

  “Ah, you see my problem.” He clasped his hair at his neck. “But if I could find Prospero. If I could get in touch with those men—Riley, Buzz and the other one—they could back me up.”

  “You’re taking the first step tomorrow. Do you still feel up to meeting with my friend, the psychiatrist, after what just happened in the shower?”

  “Now more than ever. If he can help me tap into those memories that keep surfacing, I can figure out how to reach those guys in Prospero.”

  “She.”

  “What?”

  “The psychiatrist is a she—Dr. Lesley Jerome.”

  Rosa poked her head into the room. “Still talking…and still dressed?”

  Lola pursed her lips. Did Rosa expect them to be rolling around on the bed naked? They’d had a moment by the window, and then…what? Jack had pushed her away despite his obvious attraction to her. At least someone had a grip on reality.

  “Well, one of us is dressed, anyway.” Lola jerked her thumb at Jack’s towel-clad form.

  “I put some chicken and rice on the stove for dinner, have some black beans simmering and even fried some plantains. I’m going to take a couple of plates back to the little house for me and Roberto. You and Mr. Jack are welcome to the rest.”

  Lola sniffed the air. “I thought I smelled some cumin. You’re an angel, Rosa.”

  “That would be a first.” Rosa chuckled and backed out of the doorway.

  “I’m sorry. You’ve been standing around in a towel for almost an hour. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  “And you’ve been standing around in wet clothes. Thanks for helping me out.”

  Feeling the warmth creep back into her cheeks, Lola dipped her head and flicked her hair over her shoulder. “I’m just glad it wasn’t more serious.”

  She slipped out of the room before Jack’s muscular, half-naked body had her making a fool of herself. He wanted to keep things on a casual business level, and that worked for her. But after seeing him in all his glory, she’d have a hard time sticking to business.

  In her own bathroom, she peeled off her damp clothing, toweled off and slipped into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Casual. She didn’t want Jack to think she had anything else in mind, even though that would be a total lie. That man made everything come to mind.

  Lola jogged downstairs in time to open the door for Rosa, who was balancing two plates of food and a bottle of wine.

  On the porch, she paused and winked at Lola. “Don’t worry. I left a bottle for you, too.”

  Rosa had set the table for two, including candles and two glasses of wine. The spicy aroma from the kitchen made Lola’s taste buds tingle, and she reached into the cupboard for a serving plate.

  “Can I help?”

  Lola almost dropped the platter. She didn’t know what looked more devastatingly attractive, Jack with his clothes on or Jack with his clothes off. The slow burn in her belly voted for clothes off, but this version looked damned fine, too.

  She cradled the plate in her arms like a shield. “If you want to serve some salad in the bowls and get some dressing from the fridge, that would be great.”

  He jerked open the refrigerator door. “Looks like someone went shopping while I was sleeping.”

  “That was Rosa. After my phone call to Nate, I did a little work.”

  “Rosa’s a character.” He leaned over the table and scooped some salad into the two bowls on the table.

  “Her bark is bigger than her bite. She’s completely devoted to her husband, Roberto.”

  “Must be nice.”

  “Maybe you already have that and you just don’t know it yet.” Lola plopped the meaty pieces of chicken on top of the bed of rice, afraid to turn around, afraid to see his expression.

  “Maybe, but…”

  She held her breath, but he didn’t continue the thought. Holding the platter of steaming food in two hands, she turned from the stove with a bright smile plastered on her face. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Starving.” His dark eyes smoldered over the rim of his wineglass, and Lola bit the inside of her cheek.

  Stop. His eyes weren’t smoldering at all. The candlelight was playing across his face, creating false illusions.

  She carried the chicken to the table and returned for the plate of fried plantains. “These are Rosa’s specialty.”

  Jack handed her a wineglass, and their fingers touched around the stem. The electricity from that soft brush of fingertips almost made her swoon, and she plopped down in her chair and took a gulp of wine.

  He tilted his head, a lock of black hair falling over one eye. “Are you a big drinker?”

  If she had to hang out with him much longer and continue to suppress her feelings she would be. She tapped the wineglass and laughed. “No, not usually, but you have to admit these are unusual circumstances.”

  He speared a piece of chicken and placed it on her plate. “Did you find out anything more about Emilio’s condition this afternoon?”

  “Still in a coma. I’m hoping to check in on him at the hospital tomorrow.”

  “I’m beginning to wonder who’s following us, the people involved in your brother’s kidnapping or the CIA.”

  “The CIA wouldn’t run down a man in the street.” She met Jack’s half-lidded eyes and stammered, “W-would they?”

  “I don’t trust the CIA, Lola. I can’t trust anyone right now, except…”

  “Me?” The word came out on a breathy sigh. She dropped her gaze and stuffed a forkful of rice in her mouth. Damn, she was in deep.

  He reached over and touched the corner of her mouth with the tip of his little finger, capturing a single grain of rice. “Yeah, you.”

  She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and swallowed. “Even after I called my friend at the CIA?”

  “I know you were trying to help…and you did. The Agency has put the word out that I’m dead. Maybe they believe it and maybe they don’t. That’s why they have my mug on computer terminals all over Europe.”

  “Too bad Gabe’s kidnappers don’t think you’re dead.”

  “Maybe they do.”

  “So now you think the CIA is responsible for breaking into my car and my condo?” Lola took another sip of wine, allowing the ruby liquid to warm and relax her muscles.

  Jack furrowed his brow as he sliced into a chicken thigh with such precision and concentration he could be performing surgery. “You said it, Lola. Someone broke into your car, your condo.”

  She crossed her knife and fork on the edge of her plate. “So you think someone’s after me and not you?”

  He abandoned his own silverware and grabbed both of her hands. “I don’t know. Why would they be after you? What could you possibly know about Gabe’s work in Afghanistan?”

  “He works on flu viruses. He’s been at it for years. That’s all I know. He was with Doctors Without Borders and left them to follow up on a viral breakout in Afghanistan. I got that much in a phone call from him. The next thing I knew, a rep from Doctors Without Borders called to tell me about the kidnapping, but I never received any demands from anyone. That’s when I called you on Emilio’s recommendation.”

  He squeezed her fingers and then dug into his food. Between bites, he said, “Tell me about your work.”

  She studied him beneath lowered lashes. “Just like that?”

  “Just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “We’ve mulled over my sorry situation enough for one day. I’d like to forg
et for a few hours.” His lips twisted. “Ironic, huh? The man with no memory wants to forget the little he does know.”

  “You’re right. Maybe you should clear your mind before talking to Lesley tomorrow.”

  And just like that, they spent the rest of the evening talking about everything but Jack’s sorry situation. As Jack carried their wineglasses to the kitchen, Lola curled her legs beneath her on the sofa and tilted her head back against the cushion.

  She’d had just about the best first date she’d ever had in her life…but the man of her dreams remained a mystery.

  THE ELEVATOR DOORS TRUNDLED OPEN on the fifth floor of Miami Hope Hospital. Jack crossed his fingers that the Hope in the name of the hospital was a good sign. After the memories came to him in the shower yesterday, the thought of regaining his life held less anxiety than it did before. He had people out there, people he could count on. And surely if the memories of Prospero had returned, a memory or two of a wife and family would’ve crept into his consciousness…if that wife and family existed.

  His running shoes squeaked on the polished linoleum next to the click of Lola’s boots. She aimed a smile at him and pointed down the corridor. “Lesley’s office is around the corner to the right.”

  “And this appointment is all under the radar?”

  “She’s doing it as a favor to me. It’s off the books and on her lunch hour.”

  “She’d better be discreet, Lola.” He tapped his head. “There’s no telling what kind of classified information I have locked away in here.”

  “Lesley’s a psychiatrist. She probably has as many secrets as you do.”

  They rounded the corner, and Lola pushed through a swinging door with a small oblong window. A maze of small offices filled the space, the clicking of computer keyboards merging together to sound like a giant insect.

  Lola held her finger to her lips and they floated past the offices, some with open doors and others with closed doors. She poked her head into an office with low lights and a lamp on the table and tapped on the door.

  “Lesley? We’re here.”

  A tall, reed-thin blonde rose from behind the desk, dropping her glasses on the blotter. “Hi, Lola. Shut the door behind you.”

  Discreet. Jack liked that in a psychiatrist ready to pick his brain. He clicked the door shut, resting his palms against it.

  “This is Jack Coburn. Jack, Dr. Lesley Jerome.”

  The doctor stuck out her hand, and Jack crossed the small office in two steps and gripped it in a handshake. “Dr. Jerome.”

  She smiled, straight, white teeth relieving the severity of her expression. “Call me Lesley. After all, we’re about to get intimate.”

  Raising one brow, he nodded.

  Lola shuffled closer to him and patted his back. “Just a figure of speech for shrinks.”

  “Lola, don’t you have a patient to see?” Lesley rolled her wrist inward to check her watch. “I’m pressed for time.”

  The pressure of Lola’s hand on his back increased, but she stepped back. “Of course. Forty-five minutes?”

  “That’ll work.”

  With her hand still on his waist, Lola made a half turn to face him. “Good luck.”

  He chucked her under the chin. “Don’t worry about me. Go see that little boy.”

  “I told Lesley about the headaches. If you get another—”

  “Go.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her toward the door.

  “Thanks, Lesley.” She waved her hand in the air and slipped out of the office.

  Lesley grinned at him. “That woman’s a born caretaker, but she can drive you crazy sometimes.”

  It was Lola’s sexy body, not her caretaking, that drove him crazy, but the shrink didn’t want to hear about that right now. “She’s been a lifesaver.”

  “And I’m sure she’s reveling in it, but we’re here to analyze you, not Lola.” She jerked her chin toward the two chairs on the other side of her desk as she gathered a pen and a pad of paper. “We’ll sit there. I’m sorry it’s not more comfortable, but I don’t generally see patients in this office since I visit their hospital rooms. My private practice comes complete with the comfy couch.”

  “That’s okay. I don’t need the comfy couch. Did Lola tell you about the incident in the shower?”

  “She did. Are all your memories accompanied by a headache?”

  “Yes, but don’t let it stop you. I’d rather suffer through the pain to find out who I am than get cut off in midstream.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not here to torture you, Jack.” She came out from behind the desk and settled in one of the chairs, crossing one slim leg over the other. “I understand your memory loss occurred from a fall.”

  He perched on the chair opposite hers and gripped the arms. “I woke up on a mountainside in Afghanistan with no memory of how I got there or who I was.”

  Under her direct questioning, Jack told her how he had come to find Lola and everything they had discovered and experienced. “I think if I can locate the members of this covert ops team, Prospero, I could start to recover my life and maybe help Lola find out what happened to her brother.”

  Lesley held up her hands. “One thing at a time. First, you’re going to need to relax. Release the death grip you have on that chair. Get comfortable, slump in your seat, stretch out your legs. Whatever feels comfortable for you.”

  Jack uncurled his fingers from the arm of the chair and leaned back. “Should I close my eyes?”

  “Go ahead. Now I’m going to name different parts of your body and different muscle groups, and I want you to clench and then relax them.”

  He followed her instructions, and almost unconsciously his breathing deepened. A warm flush crept across his body, and his fingertips and toes tingled. Lesley’s calm voice seeped into his brain, the sound like a gently gurgling stream.

  Clench your teeth.

  The rough command sliced across Lesley’s encouraging words.

  Tighten your muscles.

  Jack’s arm twitched, and he squeezed his eyes closed.

  Do not succumb to hypnosis.

  The male voice came from somewhere deep in Jack’s subconscious. It drowned out Lesley’s soporific suggestions.

  Keep your eyes open.

  Jack’s eyelids strained against the weights pulling them down.

  Do not allow the enemy to hypnotize you.

  Digging his fingernails into the arms of the chair, Jack forced open his eyes. His muscles coiled, replacing the fluidity that had taken possession of his body. He jumped out of the chair and ran his hands across his face.

  “What happened, Jack? You were almost under.” Lines of frustration bracketed Lesley’s mouth.

  Jack shook his head. “I couldn’t do it.”

  “Why not? Were you getting a headache?”

  “No. I couldn’t do it because the Colonel trained me not to.”

  Chapter Seven

  The man’s voice warning him against hypnosis belonged to the person who had formed Prospero: the Colonel.

  “The Colonel.” Lesley folded her hands over the notebook in her lap. “Do you remember this colonel’s name?”

  Jack parked on the edge of the desk. “No. I heard his voice and somehow I knew he was the Colonel, just the Colonel. He was giving me instructions for avoiding hypnosis.”

  “I was afraid of that.” Lesley uncrossed and recrossed her legs. “People in your line of work are rarely susceptible to hypnosis.”

  “So I’ve reached another dead end?”

  “Not necessarily. You have another clue to Prospero. Maybe this colonel’s name will come to you.” She grimaced. “You still have your headaches, and if you’re willing we can try sodium amobarbital.”

  “Truth serum?”

  “That’s right. I’ve used it with some success before. I don’t have time now, but if you want to give it try at a later date it might work.”

  “I just might.” He tapped his wrist. “I suppose it hasn’t
been forty-five minutes, has it?”

  “Not even a half hour.”

  “I’d like to wander off and find Lola.”

  Lesley unfolded her tall frame from the chair and returned to her desk. “I can help you with that.” She entered some data on her computer. “Her patient’s in room eight fifty-two. That’s on the eighth floor.”

  “Thanks for your efforts. You almost had me.”

  “You’ve been well trained, Jack. You’re an interesting case.”

  They shook hands, and Jack left Lesley to her lunch. He slipped into the stairwell and took the stairs two at a time. After sliding into a near-hypnotic state he wanted to get his heart pumping.

  He jogged up the three flights and yanked open the fire door to the eighth floor. The colorful cartoon characters painted on the walls proclaimed this the pediatric ward, so he knew he’d landed in the right place.

  He cruised along the hallway until he found room 852. He might get kicked out of here, but Dr. Famosa should be able to smooth things over for him.

  “Hello?” He pushed open the door and paused on the threshold. A pair of big dark eyes pinned him in a curious gaze.

  “Who are you?” The thin boy, his skin dark against the white hospital sheets, raised his bed to study Jack more closely.

  “I’m sorry. I was looking for Dr. Famosa.”

  A big grin split the boy’s face and his eyes reflected the fluorescent lights in the room. “You just missed her.”

  “Oops, sorry.” Jack pulled at the door, but the boy’s voice stopped him.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.” Jack released the door handle and turned to face the boy.

  Pointing to the flickering images on the TV in the corner, the boy asked, “Do you think Pretty Boy can beat Epic?”

  Jack’s brows shot up. He didn’t figure he could answer any of the boy’s questions, but this one had him at a total loss. “Huh?”

  The boy aimed the remote control at the TV. “World Wide Wrestling. Pretty Boy Lloyd is fighting Epic, and Jesús, the orderly, thinks he can beat him, but I say no way, and Freddie the janitor is on my side.”