“We don't have to like it.”
Izzy looked up into the darkness. The air churned. Suddenly lights cut across the slope, trees shaking in the sudden turbulence.
There were no markings or military identification on the helicopter that hovered over the meadow. The high-tech black body looked sinister, like something out of a movie. The Navy was taking no chances with Sam's safety.
Thanks to some juggling, most of Annie's guests were gone, and all but her essential staff had been given time off. The remaining workers had been briefed to avoid Annie's house and to hold all their questions. As far as they knew, Izzy was her only visitor. Now the rest depended on Sam and his determination.
And how much pain he could endure.
Annie had studied his files and spoken to his doctors. She knew he would be facing an enormous amount of pain, especially at first. For his therapy to work, pain would be his constant companion.
She raised her chin, reminding herself to stay calm, to make her concern purely professional. But she kept seeing Sam's face as he'd waved good-bye from the cove.
And then his bloody, broken body captured by a hovering news team.
The lights grew brighter. Against the drone of motors, night turned to blinding day. Sand and pebbles snapped against An-nie's face as she was blown back by turbulence from the blades. Izzy grabbed her arm as the chopper landed and a man in a black jumpsuit leaped to the ground.
Dry mouthed, Annie watched him confer with Izzy, then lean inside the helicopter.
She hadn't smoked a cigarette in eight years, but she had a sudden urge for one now, watching a gurney being lowered to the ground.
Izzy pointed down the hill toward his van, and two men in flight suits hefted the gurney over the ground. Annie followed, picking up bits of conversation as they walked.
“So this is the Shangri-la you promised me, Teague? Can't see much in the dark, but the sea must be close, judging by that wind.”
Sam, Annie thought. Her throat tightened painfully.
“Just over the hills,” Izzy said. “How are you doing, ace?”
“Great, as soon as you get me out of this torture device. Tell me about the therapist you found for me. A real dragon lady, right?”
“She has to be a dragon to put up with a hard case like you.”
“Guess you're right.” Sam gave a low bark of laughter. “Hard on the eyes, is she?”
“See for yourself.”
Annie walked ahead, opening the door to the car. With light filtering around her, she took a breath and turned, facing Sam.
His face was pale.
His eyes held no hint of recognition.
It doesn't matter, she told herself. They'd told her to expect this.
She cleared her throat. “I believe I'm the dragon lady in question.”
“Things must be looking up.” Sam's hand rose, curled around her wrist. “Where have you been all my life, beautiful?”
Annie couldn't speak, assaulted by memories.
“She was doing better things. Why waste her time with a saltwater cowboy like you?” Izzy said.
“Better than being a digital desk jockey like you,” Sam countered. He didn't look away from Annie's face as he spoke.
“Says you. Now let the woman do her work.”
Sam released her hand reluctantly. “Fine. Just get me out of this damned gurney. I can walk with a little effort.”
Izzy glanced at the man in the black jumpsuit, who pursed his lips and shook his head.
Annie gripped the car door, fighting to keep her hands steady. She couldn't let any of them see how shaken she was. So what if Sam didn't remember her? This wasn't personal, after all. Her memories would have to be buried deep, where they couldn't interfere with the difficult job before her. “Into the car, tough guy. We'll negotiate the details of your therapy when we get to the house. Then you'll find out exactly what a dragon lady I can be.”
THE VAN HELD THE GURNEY AND THE NEW ARRIVALS WITH INCHES to spare. Annie couldn't see much of Sam until they pulled into the driveway that led up to her house.
Take this one step at a time, she thought. At least he was strong and his outlook was positive.
Then she looked down and saw that his hand was wrapped around the edge of the gurney's metal frame, clenched tight.
Pain.
And he would never show it.
“I'd say you could use some medication, Mr. McKade.” That was how she'd been instructed to address him. Mister. No military titles. Annie wondered if it was his real name. He'd called himself Sam Mitchell before.
His eyes hardened. “I had a shot two hours ago.”
Behind Izzy the doctor frowned and shook his head slightly, raising six fingers.
“Fine, fine. We'll work out the details later.” Right now her patient needed rest, not arguments, Annie decided. She opened the door and jumped down. “Tomorrow I'll give you the grand tour, including the exercise area and whirlpool. I hope you like exercise, Mr. McKade.”
“Call me Sam.” As if they were strangers.
“Sam it is.”
“And I like exercise just fine. Always have.” For a moment his eyes were troubled. “At least I think I do. My memory's a little whipped right now.”
“No problem.” Annie forced her voice to stay light as she guided the group inside. “You're right down this hall.” She pointed to a room dominated by a wall of windows framing the dark coast. Only a few lights rocked, far out at sea.
“The king-size bed is yours. You've got a remote control for lights, television, and curtains.”
“All the comforts of home.”
“That's the idea. This handset will page me, wherever I am.”
“Seems like a lot of bother for one man.” Sam sat up awkwardly on the gurney. “When do we start the therapy?”
“Tomorrow.”
Sam nodded, fighting to keep his eyes open. Only tension and pain were keeping him awake now, Annie realized.
Moving behind him, she beckoned to the doctor, holding up thumb and two fingers as if for an injection. When he nodded, she placed her hands on Sam's face. “Why don't you close your eyes while we help you onto the bed? No sense getting dizzy.” As she spoke, she massaged his forehead, placing her hands along his face.
“Nice hands,” he murmured.
Annie could feel him fighting the tension, fighting sleep. Teaching him to relax would be one of her biggest challenges, since he would fight any hint of weakness.
“Let's get you into bed, shall we?”
His eyes didn't leave her face. “Best offer I've had in weeks.”
Annie helped him maneuver to the bed using crutches. After he was settled, she stood behind him and covered his eyes, massaging his face. Then she nodded at the doctor, who held a prepared syringe. “My hands are going to be important, Sam. Focus on them so you can learn to direct the healing process.”
“You've got my complete focus, ma'am.”
“Good. Stay with me.” Annie skimmed the muscles at his jaw, feeling his tension. “Still with me?”
“Oh, yeah.” His eyes were closed now.
Deception was rotten, but sometimes it couldn't be helped. Annie nodded at the medic. The syringe slanted down, touched Sam's arm, slid home.
He tried to sit up. “What the—”
Annie held him still. “Don't tell me a big tough guy like you is afraid of a teeny widdle needle?”
His lips curved in the hint of a smile. “Yeah, I'm shaking in my boots, Doc. Whatever you do, just don't stop doing that thing with your fingers.”
One hurdle crossed, Annie thought. The pain medication would soon help him sleep. “What I'm doing is cranio-sacral massage and counterpoint balancing, with a little acupressure thrown in for good luck.”
“Lost me there.” He sighed, turning his head toward her hands.
“No need to move. I'll do all the work.”
“This must be illegal. Probably breaks some AMA protocol. Or maybe that's FDA.” His words were beginn
ing to slur.
“We're in California. The only thing that's illegal here is not recycling.”
“Never felt anything so good.” His mouth tightened suddenly. “I don't think I have. Can't remember. Tried damned hard, but I can't.”
“There's no rush,” Annie said soothingly. She moved down to massage his neck and shoulders. “Give it time.”
“Funny.” His eyes opened, narrowed against the pain. “Your voice. It almost seems … familiar.”
Annie kept her smile impersonal. “I bet you use that line on all the ladies, Mr. McKade.”
“Sam.” He shook his head, his face so pale that Annie hurt inside. “Wouldn't use a line, ma'am. Not with someone special like you,” he said gravely.
Emotions fluttered, but Annie shoved them away. “I'm delighted to hear it, Sam. Now close your eyes and relax. You've got all the time in the world.”
He studied her face, frowning. “No. I have to remember.”
“Cool down, Sam.” Izzy touched his arm. “What do you have to remember?”
Sam's hand closed to a fist. He stared down at his locked fingers, breathing heavily. “It's right there. That close.” He looked up at Izzy. “They didn't tell me where the accident happened. All I see are buildings. There are sirens everywhere and I'm trying to hang on, to hold it all together. For them, but I don't remember who.”
“You saved over forty people, ace. That makes you America's reigning hero.” Izzy spoke with just the right edge of challenge. “If you weren't so dog ugly, I'd have to be jealous.”
“A hero,” Sam repeated. His eyes closed slowly. “Can't remember.”
The pain medication finally kicked in, pulling him under. He wouldn't have to fight anymore, Annie thought, or pretend he wasn't hurting.
She nodded at the medics, who pushed the gurney outside. On the bed Sam muttered, but didn't wake. She started to move her hands away, but he made a low sound of disapproval.
“Don't stop now, Doc. Just … getting good.”
Izzy studied Sam gravely. “We're going to have our work cut out for us.” His voice was low. “The big fool will be fighting his pain every step of the way.”
“Fighting can be good.” Annie slid one hand gently over Sam's hair. “And we'll be here to help him fight.”
“You okay?” Izzy asked softly.
How can I be okay? I touched this man. That night under the stars, I gave him a piece of my heart. He went away without a real good-bye, and now he's come back a stranger.
Though her eyes burned with unshed tears, Annie straightened her shoulders and smiled. “I'll survive.”
SOMETHING WAS WRONG.
The pain was back, but Sam was already used to feeling pain. This was different.
He lay staring into the darkness, his whole body tensed. More of his imagination? First the surgeries. Then they'd pumped him full of medications in spite of all his protests.
He tried to block out the crushing pain, but he couldn't focus, couldn't see, couldn't—
Remember.
Not one damned thing prior to waking up in the hospital.
His name?
Okay, he knew that much. My name is Sam McKade.
His lips twisted. He only knew that courtesy of a frowning doctor from the naval hospital. Even that might have been a lie.
He went through his usual inventory, testing legs, arms, hands, fingers. Every muscle was weak, but they functioned, even if any movement made his left shoulder ache like hell.
He needed to get going, to start building himself up. He didn't have much time before…
Before what?
He tried to sit up. Instantly pain shot up his chest and clawed down his arm.
His fingers gripped the bed, tightened. Damn it, before what?
The darkness offered no answers as he fought for clarity, caught on the razor's edge somewhere between pain and sleep. Something whispered that he couldn't trust anyone, that things weren't what they seemed. Gritting his teeth, he blocked the dark slide to oblivion because he had to. Because he needed to remember.
Before it was too late.
Chapter Ten
ANNIE AWOKE TO THE CRACK OF SHATTERING GLASS. Disoriented, she stared into the darkness, remembering she wasn't alone.
Sam.
She lurched from her bed, running down the dimly lit hall to the guestroom. “Sam?” she called breathlessly.
Through the faint moonlight she saw him, stretched across the bed, one arm caught in the sheets. His hands opened and closed as if trying to hold something that kept slipping away.
There was blood on the sheet. More blood at his shoulder. His body was rigid, every muscle of his chest defined.
Something stabbed her foot as she crossed the floor, but Annie ignored the discomfort. Sam's doctors had warned her to approach him slowly, never taking him by surprise. By training and experience, his instinct was to attack first and ask questions later. That instinct would only be sharpened by his disorientation and pain.
“Sam, can you hear me?”
“That you, Doc?” His voice was hoarse.
“Right here. What have you been doing, reenacting World War II in here?”
“Yeah. Feels like Normandy, except my side lost,” he muttered. “Gotta get up. No time to waste.”
“You're going nowhere, big guy.”
“Have to go. Have to tell them—”
When Annie touched his face, he was burning up, his eyes delirious. “Everyone's asleep, but you can call whoever you want in the morning. Since you've made a mess of that wound on your shoulder, we'd better fix it.”
He stiffened when she touched his arm. His mouth flattened to a hard line.
“No arguments. You're taking some pain medicine.”
“Like hell,” he said. “Don't need it. Do that thing with your hands and I'll be fine.”
“You take half your meds, and I'll give you half the massage. Then we'll clean up that wound, because it's got to be hurting like hell.” Annie waited impatiently. If he didn't agree, she'd have to call Izzy for firepower.
“Don't want the medicine.” The words were slurred. “Can't—think. Need to remember.”
“You can remember tomorrow,” she said softly. “If you don't sleep, you won't be good for much anyway.”
“Not good for anything now.” His hands opened, and one callused palm locked over hers. “Do it,” he rasped. “But only half.”
The stubborn, proud fool.
Annie found the bottle Izzy had given her and tapped out one pill. “Take this. Here's a glass of water.”
She watched him grimace as he swallowed. When he sank back, his eyes narrowed on her. “Your turn, Doc.”
“You think I break my promises?”
“I don't know you well enough to say.”
One brow raised, Annie sat carefully beside him, feeling the heat of his body through her thin nightdress. Ignoring the instant skim of heat where her body touched his, she reached down to his neck.
“Close your eyes. Focus on my hands.” Slowly, she worked her way along locked muscles and tender nerves until she felt his breath hiss free.
“Those hands of yours ought to be insured, Doc.”
“I'm not a doctor.”
“Who the hell cares?”
The compliment made Annie smile. “Don't tell that to the AMA unless you want me behind bars.” She traced the top of his right shoulder, kneading smoothly. Suddenly his arms tightened.
“Let it go, Sam.”
“Can't.”
“Who are you fighting, the world or yourself?”
She heard him curse. “Both. Whenever I close my eyes I see a road with someone right behind me. I don't turn back but I can hear the engine. Louder, louder. And if I don't hurry—” He blew out a hard breath. “Sometimes it's so close I can touch it. Then later, I think I'm dreaming. Maybe I'm ready for a padded cell.”
“Stress can play nasty tricks. Let it go,” Annie repeated softly. “There'll be plenty of tim
e to remember.”
He moved his arm restlessly. “I can't. Too important.”
“Trust me, fighting isn't going to help.”
“Fighting's … what I do best.” There was a grim edge to his voice. “Too late to change that now, Doc, even if I wanted to.”
Annie frowned in exasperation at the nickname. “Put it away, Sam.”
“Can't. Call it a—a guy thing.”
“So here's a girl thing: no rest, no therapy. Capice?” She moved away, glaring down at him.
He opened one eye. “Hell, don't stop now. I was just starting to feel human again.”
Annie's foot was throbbing. She must have cut it on something during her rush down the hall. She hid a grimace as she moved around him, smoothing his blankets. “Too bad, ace. It's my game here, with my rules and my scorecard. If you don't accept that, we might as well stop now because I can't help you.”
“Izzy was right. You are a dragon.”
“Absolutely. I breathe fire and consume chivalrous knights on a regular basis. Do you accept my terms or not?”
“For now.”
Annie sensed it was all she would get. Sighing, she bent closer, massaging his back. “Always fighting,” she muttered.
“Like I said, it's what I do best.” His hand rose, cupping her hip through her cotton nightgown. “Almost the best.” There was a faint curve to his lips.
Annie stiffened. Did he expect personal services along with the therapy?
She looked down, ready to set him straight. “There's another rule you should know about.” She caught his hand and set it on the bed, but the second she let go, he moved it back. “Sorry, but this one's nonnegotiable.”
No answer.
“Sam?”
His hand opened, and his breath came low and regular. He was already asleep.
IZZY FOUND HER AT THE KITCHEN TABLE TWENTY MINUTES LATER, picking glass splinters out of her feet.
“I saw the light,” he explained when she waved him inside. “What happened?”
“Sam woke up. I finally got him settled and changed the dressing at his shoulder.”
Izzy frowned at her feet. “Looks as if you had a tussle in the process.”
Wincing, Annie drew out a particularly nasty sliver of glass. “I heard a noise and I raced to his room. By the time I realized he'd knocked over and broken a glass, it was too late to put on slippers.” She dropped another sliver into the saucer beside her. “Do you think this qualifies me for hazardous-duty pay?”
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