by Joanna Wayne
“Calm down, boy. I’ve got a couple of calls to make before I can play.” One was to a newsman out of Austin who’d somehow gotten wind of the fact that McCord and a pretty FBI agent had gotten attacked while they were parked in a secluded area. Alone. At night. Said he’d heard the woman’s husband had trailed them and tried to kill them both.
A little truth. A little rumor. Now Clint would have to convince him the story was all rumor. Clint would still trade a market-ready steer himself to know exactly what Darlene and McCord were doing parked ten miles past nowhere in the dark on Monday evening, but he was convinced now that the meeting had nothing to do with a physical relationship. Darlene was too smart for that. Besides, Mary had made it clear that Darlene had come to town at McCord’s urging, and that she hadn’t a clue as to what he wanted.
Clint dropped to the couch and used the heel of his right boot to pry off the left. He reached over and scratched Loopy behind the ear with one hand as he reached for the phone with the other. How was he going to convince a newsman not to print a juicy sex scandal about a leading political figure, a story fueled by facts and littered with lies.
“Thank you, Senator McCord,” he muttered wryly.
Loopy barked his opinion.
DARLENE SHOOK AWAKE, her fingers brushing the edge of the bandage and then rubbing the dregs of sleep from her eyes. She rolled over and looked at the clock. Ten minutes past two. Something must have wakened her.
She listened, but even the routine sounds of the hospital were absent. Nothing much going on, the night nurse had said. One new baby in the nursery, an appendectomy in the children’s wing, and a few elderly patients battling flu or pneumonia. The nurses were probably in the snack room, chatting and having a cup of coffee before the early morning activities jumped into full swing.
Uneasy quivers attacked her stomach. Paranoia. She had to fight it. The guard was right outside her door.
Reaching across the pillow, she ran her fingers along the edge of the mattress, searching for the control that turned on the reading lamp. One of the nurses had left a copy of Southern Living on her nightstand. Since she couldn’t sleep, she might as well give it a look.
The control was missing. Someone must have moved it to keep her from calling for help. The nurse from last night, the one who’d given her the shot when she knew Darlene didn’t want to be drugged?
No, she was only imagining things. She forced her heartbeat to slow. Paranoia was common among amnesia patients. She wouldn’t give in to it.
She took deep breaths, but the fear grew worse. Someone was in this room, in the dark, watching her. She could feel him. Her breath caught. This wasn’t another dream. She was awake.
“Randy. Randy!”
Her door squeaked open. The beam of his flashlight darted about the room, but it was long, unbearable seconds before his reassuring voice eased her terror. “I’m right here, Darlene. Is something wrong?”
“I can’t find my control for the lights. It must have fallen.”
“I’ll get it for you. Mind if I turn on the overhead light?”
“No, I don’t mind.” In fact, nothing would please her more. Her pounding heart eased to near normal as bright light flooded the room. Randy stood by the door, his hand resting on the butt of the gun he wore at his waist.
She let her gaze trail every inch of space. The curtain that circled her bed when privacy was needed was bunched against the wall, unmoving. The bouquet of flowers on the windowsill no longer cast strange, elongated shadows on the wall.
Paranoia. Alive and well and residing in the FBI-agent-turned-coward.
Randy sauntered toward the bed. “You look mighty pale. Want me to go get one of the nurses?”
“No, I must have had another bad dream. I’m fine. Do you see the control?”
He stooped and looked under the edge of the bed. Darlene spied it then, on the bedside table.
“I found it,” she said, reaching around the bed rail to retrieve it. “The nurse must have unclipped it when she straightened my sheets. I’m sorry I bothered you.”
“No bother. Truth is, I was getting pretty lonely out there. Want me to sit with you a spell?”
She hated to hurt his feelings, but she really didn’t. Now that her fears had been alleviated, she would be happier alone, thinking, trying to make sense of everything that had happened the last few days—especially tonight’s phone call from McCord.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’d better get some sleep. If all goes well, I plan to check out of the hospital tomorrow.”
“Really? I hadn’t heard that.”
“Neither have I, but I plan to pursue it. The headaches have all but stopped.”
“Are you going back to Washington?”
“Not for a few days. I’ll stay at the motel in town. Or maybe at the Altamira. Apparently I was already on their guest list.”
“I’ll have to get better acquainted with that cute redheaded nurse tonight then.”
She smiled and watched Randy back out the door, flashing her an easy smile that showed a sparkling set of crooked white teeth just before he clicked off the light.
She settled back into the bed. The nagging pain started again just above her right temple, but it was nothing she couldn’t live with. A little pain was far better than narcotics that dulled her senses and compounded the confusion of the amnesia.
The heat cranked on. She snuggled beneath the covers, lulled by the hum of the motor and the warmth. And the fact that Randy was right outside her door.
Something clattered, but she refused to give in to paranoia again. It was only the night sounds of an old building and noisy equipment. She closed her eyes tightly, determined to will the fear away.
Only it didn’t go away. It grew worse. Someone was near. She could hear their breathing, hear their footsteps on the tile floor. Her eyes flew open.
She struggled to scream as a hand shot from the darkness and strangled her cries.
“It’s too late, FBI babe. The game is over.”
The man’s lips were at her ear, one hand shoving her face into the bed, the other shoving something into her mouth. This couldn’t be happening. She was being murdered in a hospital bed with an armed guard steps away.
She coughed, trying to dislodge the wad of foul-tasting cloth. It was stifling her breath, killing her screams. Summoning every ounce of strength she could find, she threw her body upward, felt her body rise and then slam back against the mattress.
“You’re a strong little bitch. Just not strong enough.”
She lunged forward and her head crashed against what felt like his head. He mumbled a curse, and his grip on her arm grew slack. Fighting hard, she yanked her hand sideways in the split second before he gained full control.
But the man was too quick for her. He held her down, his fingers digging into her neck and squeezing, like a rope in a hanging knot. She felt her body folding, giving in to the lack of oxygen, giving up. With one heaving movement, she jerked as hard as she could, throwing her hips against the metal rod that was supposed to keep her from falling out of the high bed.
The metal rattled, mingling with her attacker’s low curses. She gasped one last time as the blackness pulled her under.
Her last thoughts were of Clint, wishing he were here.
Chapter Six
Clint swerved into the first available parking spot in front of the hospital. It was the middle of the night, way too late for making visits, but he had an urge to check on Darlene.
Probably born of the phone call that had wakened him in the middle of the night. Keep your nose out of the senator’s problems or you’ll die with him and his FBI girlfriend.
He’d nearly exploded with fury when he’d hung up the phone. The senator had stirred up a mess of real trouble this time, and it was boiling over into a lot more lives than his. If this was what it meant to be the man of the people, Clint was thankful he was just a lowly member of the unknown masses.
Still running on an
adrenaline overload, he pushed through the glass door of the hospital. He turned the corner and spied Randy, all smiles and chatting with a redheaded nurse. Irritation rattled his control. Randy was yards away from Darlene’s room, but at least he was facing in the right direction.
The deputy turned as Clint headed toward him. “You’re up and about late, Sheriff.”
“I’ve had a busy night” He nodded toward Darlene’s room and the chair Randy had vacated right outside her door. “Looks like you’ve wandered a ways from your post.” His tone was harsher than it needed to be, but so were attacks and threats of murder.
“Just stretching my legs for a second. I haven’t been standing here two minutes, and I haven’t been out of sight of that door. I’m doing my job, if that’s what’s got you riled, Clint. I told you earlier—you can count on me to keep Darlene safe.”
“I’ll vouch for him.” The nurse flashed Clint a warm smile.
“I’m not looking for a voucher. I just expect my witness to be guarded every second of the night.”
“She’s fine, Clint,” Randy said, watching the backside of the nurse as she walked away. “Darlene, I mean. I was just in her room.”
“Is she awake?”
“She was a few minutes ago. She’d lost the controls to the light over her bed, and I went in to help her find it. Offered to stay and chat a spell, but she said she wasn’t in the mood for company. Are you going in to see her this time of the night?”
“I’m going to stick my head in.” He started to walk away but thought better of it. Randy was. young, but he showed promise as a lawman. He just needed to learn that when Clint gave an order, he meant for it to be followed. “In the future, I expect you to either be in Darlene’s room or right outside it.”
“I could hear a scream from here.”
“I want you near enough to hear a footstep or a whisper.” Clint stepped closer, lowering his voice even more. “I had a phone call a little earlier, telling me that Darlene was as good as dead.”
Randy rammed his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. “Lowlifes. Damn lowlifes got no business breathing good folks’ air.”
Clint moved into Randy’s space. “This man is as dangerous as they come. When you’re on duty, I expect you to guard Darlene like it was your own mother you were watching over. Do you follow me?”
“I hear you loud and clear, Sheriff. I’ll glue myself to her door.”
Clint started toward her room. He wouldn’t wake her if she was asleep. He just wanted to sit by her for a while. Maybe it was hearing that voice on the phone tonight. Maybe it was his growing awareness that Monday night could have turned out a whole lot worse. All he was sure of was that he ached to be near her, to hold her hand in his, to make sure she was all right.
He’d spent years trying to forget what it had been like to have her in his life, what it had been like to love her. The years had been wasted. The feelings were still inside him, as strong as ever.
His fingers wrapped around the doorknob. It turned, but the door didn’t move. Surely she didn’t have it locked! He tried it again, panic and adrenaline shooting through him.
“Darlene, are you in there?”
A low moan from inside. He reared back and kicked as hard as he could. On the second try, the door flew open and he rushed in.
Yanking the pistol from his holster with his right hand, he fumbled for the light switch with the other. The light flashed on, and he reeled at what he saw. In less than a second, he was holding Darlene in his arms, yanking the gag from her mouth.
The next he was off and running, screaming for Randy to get the nurse while he jumped through an open window on the trail of a would-be killer.
“FIND ME SOME CLOTHES. I want out of here. Now.”
Clint lay on his most intimidating glare while trying to come up with an argument that would convince Darlene she was in the best place for her. “You’re too weak to walk.”
“Then get me a wheelchair.”
“Be reasonable, Darlene. You had a close call last night. You’re nauseated, confused and—”
“Alive. Barely. Which I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t arrived last night the second you did.”
A fact he didn’t need to be reminded of. The way he felt when he’d burst into her room would haunt him forever.
In a romantic movie, he’d be at her bedside now, holding her in his arms, telling her that. But Darlene had her own ideas about the role she was supposed to play. Instead of clinging to him in gratitude, she was giving him orders.
“Dr. Bennigan will never release you today, Darlene, not after what you went through last night. Besides, you know what I told you. It’s here or jail. I can’t just let you walk the streets on your own.”
“Why not? I’d be safer on the streets than I was here with an armed guard.”
He threw up his hands in exasperation. “We’ve been through that.”
“I know, and I’m not blaming you or Randy. And I’m sure Dr. Bennigan is a very good doctor. But somebody is trying to kill me. McCord warned us the man was crazy enough to try anything.”
“Yeah. Too bad McCord didn’t also tell us who the man is.”
Darlene swung her bare legs over the side of the bed. “He can’t. I’ve thought about it, and the only reasonable answer is that McCord doesn’t know who’s behind the trouble.”
“So where is McCord? He could have told you that.”
“So that you could hire an armed guard to protect him?”
Clint ticked the wall with his index finger. “Score one for you, for whatever it’s worth. But that doesn’t get us any closer to catching up with McCord or finding out what he’s involved in.”
He had to quit thinking of Darlene as a defenseless victim—regardless of the fact that she couldn’t remember her past. Every day she settled deeper into the persona of Darlene Remington, FBI agent. And, according to reputation, she was one of the best.
“I think McCord’s on the run, hiding somewhere and hoping the men who are after him will be captured,” she continued.
“McCord? You’ve got the wrong man. He doesn’t hide from trouble. He thrives on it. Besides, if he were waiting for someone to catch these guys, he wouldn’t have called off the FBI and told me to stay out of it.”
Darlene slid off the bed, holding onto the rail for support. New bruises colored her arms and darkened her cheeks. The sight ground in Clint’s gut. She’d been in his protective custody. He’d let her down. And no matter how insistent she became, it wouldn’t happen again. Clint stopped pacing and stared out the window. It was better when he didn’t look at Darlene, when he couldn’t look into her eyes, couldn’t see the shimmering fire that awakened old urges. “You need to forget McCord and concentrate on only one thing, Darlene. Get your memory back. Leave the rest to me.”
Darlene joined him at the window. “Then tell me more about McCord, Clint. You say you aren’t friends, but you must like him. I mean you talk about him like he’s tough and brave. A cop’s kind of guy.”
“He is tough and brave. And too smart not to have an idea what’s going on and who’s behind it. And I resent like hell that he dragged you into the middle of his mess.”
“We were friends. He wanted my help. Now I can’t even remember what he told me.” Her voice wavered. “My memory loss—it always comes back to that.” She turned and leaned against the wall.
Clint softened in spite of himself. She blamed so much of this on her amnesia. No wonder she was so determined to do something to help.
“You’ve had a tough few days,” he said, determined to talk some sense into her. “The best way to regain your memory is to get some rest and quit trying to solve a mystery you’re ill-equipped to handle.”
“And I won’t get a good night’s rest in this hospital.” Darlene tugged on his arm, made him face her. “I won’t stay here another night, Clint. I can’t. Not with the man who wants me dead still on the loose.”
“No on
e will hurt you tonight. I’m taking the duty myself. If he shows up again, I’ll be ready for him.”
“I have a better idea. Go get me the clothes I wore yesterday. I don’t know why you had the nurse take them out of my room to start with.”
“To keep you from sneaking out.”
“Sneaking past an armed guard. That’s overkill, don’t you think? Anyway, I won’t sneak out. I’ll leave with you and stay at your place tonight.”
At his place. Just the two of them. If that happened, she’d need protection from more than the killer. “I don’t run a guest house,” he said. “I have one bed, and it’s not too comfortable.”
“I don’t care about comfort. If you won’t let me leave on my own, then take me with you, Clint.”
Her words squeezed around his heart, but she was asking too much. How would he ever let her go again if he saw her in the morning, all tousled and sleepy-eyed? If he saw her skin glistening from the shower, or caught a glimpse of her nestled in his bed?
“Please, Clint. Take me home with you. We can talk. You can tell me about McCord, give me something to help me recall what he said to me Monday night.”
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“Not when it’s this important. I can’t.”
No, the only thing she’d ever given up on had been the two of them. And he’d damn well better keep that in mind.
“You win,” he said, regretting the words the second they left his lips.
“You won’t be sorry. Who knows? I might even be able to cook.”
She stepped toward him, her bandaged head cocked to one side, and his heart plunged. If her body was as strong as her will, he might be able to keep his cool, hide the feelings that snaked through him. But she was frail, shaky.
She weaved slightly, and he caught her in his arms. She clung to him, and desire shot through him. so intense that his whole body grew hard. He forced himself to loosen his grip, but she didn’t move away.
“Sorry, cowboy. I guess I lost my balance there.”
