by Spear, Terry
In the next instant, Allan realized he’d dropped his gun. Then in a not by-the-book Special Forces maneuver, he lunged forward, tackling the big ape’s legs. Catching the man off-guard, he threw him backward.
When the man landed on his back with an oof, Jenny groaned. My God, she’s still alive. Allan pinned the man’s arms down and tried to break his grasp on the knife.
Jenny groaned again. Allan’s adrenaline surged to new heights. The man attempted to stick him with the knife. Allan finally twisted the man’s hand back to where he couldn’t keep a grip on it. The weapon fell on the carpet.
A shot rang out in the living room, then another. Someone groaned and a thump followed.
Allan tried to flip the perp over so he could handcuff him. But the man pulled a second knife out and slashed at Allan’s black field uniform. “Screw this,” Allan said, under his breath. He pinned the man’s knife arm down with his knee, then grabbed his head and with a swift jerk, broke his neck.
When he was certain he was dead, he retrieved his gun, then ran to Jenny.
Lying deathly still and dressed only in a translucent pink nightie, she seemed already dead. He grasped her wrist. Her pulse was weak. He quickly checked her over for knife wounds. Not finding any, he studied her head. The area on her forehead was raised and red.
With guarded relief, he grabbed an afghan off the bed and wrapped it around her. But when the sound of footsteps approached, he rose from his crouched position and readied his gun. This time he’d protect her like he’d meant to do in the first place.
Dale’s cheeks were flushed as he ran into the room. “Where’s the girl?”
Allan returned to her where she lay on the other side of the bed and lifted her from the floor. “She’s alive, barely. What about the others?”
“We killed five of them.” Dale pointed to the one lying on the floor. “Well, that makes six. But our men are fine.”
“We’ve got to get her out of here. When Wilson finds out she isn’t dead, he’ll send someone to do the job right.”
Allan headed for the doorway. “Something really isn’t right about this case. About this woman.” He carried her down the hall. “One man is all he ever hires to finish off his women. Why in the world would he need six?”
Cameron ran into the house with Samuel on his heels. “Hot damn, we’ve got a live one this time.”
Allan glanced down at Jenny’s pale face. “Barely.”
“How’d we manage to get so lucky?” Samuel grabbed the front doorknob.
“He had plenty of time to kill her before I reached the bedroom. Unless he heard me coming.” Glumly, Allan shook his head. “No, he still could have killed her with the blade he carried.”
The whole scenario with Jenny bothered him. She wasn’t like the other women. Why had Wilson targeted her? Allan knew he had to solve the mystery before Wilson came for her again.
***
Three days later, Allan sat in a leather chair in front of Raymond Garcia’s desk at the A.T.A. sub-headquarters, Houston, Texas. Garcia’s years of highly regarded service in the C.I.A. had earned him the job as the head of their unit, but right this moment, Allan knew the man had lost his mind.
Garcia’s paunchy waistline, graying temples, and fat-cheeked face made him appear jovial. In fact, the man had a great sense of humor, was soft-spoken, easy to get along with, and was a good judge of character...until today. What the hell had come over him anyway?
Garcia sucked in a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. “I wouldn’t pick you for the job, if I didn’t think you were right for it.”
“Serving as Jenny Brant’s bodyguard is fine. Helping her to regain her memories, I can handle. Pretending to be her husband while she has amnesia—”
Garcia raised his hand. “We’ll play the game my way. Dale says you’ve read up on every bit of information you can find on Miss Brant while she was under the doctor’s care. She’s been released from the hospital and transferred to the safe house. Now we need someone who can both protect her and help her to recover her memories. We need to find out what she knows about Wilson.”
Garcia tapped his pen on his desk, then pointed it at Allan. “If she believes you’re her husband, she’ll be more trusting and more than likely want to stay with you until she remembers her past. We can’t keep her against her wishes, so if we don’t handle this right, she could very well return to her home near Waco and end up dead.”
Allan clenched his fists, not liking the scenario at all.
“Remember, she’s the first woman who’s known him, who’s ever escaped him. We have to learn if there’s anything she knows about him that’ll aid us. Quite frankly, you’re the only man for the assignment.” Garcia paused, his eyes twinkling with a bit of mirth. Then he frowned. “Just keep me informed on your progress with her. In the meantime, we’re looking into her background to see what we can come up with.”
If Allan didn’t know Garcia any better he’d think he’d planned the whole rotten thing. Allan rose from his chair.
“Someday you’ll thank me.”
Now that was a Garcia standard line if Allan ever heard one.
“Yeah, well, for the record, this is one big mistake,” Allan said.
When he stepped into the hallway where Dale waited, a smile tugged at his partner’s lips.
“Don’t say a word, Dale.”
“Cameron and Samuel, and a couple of others we’ve never met, are already at the condo with her. We’re on the next flight out. Warm, crystal clear, aqua waters, white sand beaches. What could be better?”
They walked out of the two-story, white stone building. The blast of heat and humidity hit him like a summer shower.
“What could be better?” Allan’s voice showed his irritation, despite trying to curb revealing his feelings about the woman or situation to his partner. “It’d be better if one of you guys had the task of being her husband instead of me.”
Dale chuckled. “The nurses had to chase you out of the room when they tried to take care of her.”
Damn. Everything Allan had done concerning the woman had to be misconstrued by his partners. “I was trying to ensure she was still being protected in case Wilson—”
Dale slapped him on the arm. “Yeah, I know. And when Samuel tried to relieve you, you said no.”
Allan shook his head. Dale had him there. Allan couldn’t think of one snappy retort to explain his actions that time. He’d saved her life. That was all. He wanted to be there when she came to. Didn’t most search and rescue workers feel the need to have closure in the cases they’d worked?
As they crossed the parking area, he ran his hands through his wind-swept hair. He was just doing his job.
“Then you researched everything you could find on the woman.”
Allan glanced at Dale. “It’s my job.” This time his voice reflected his annoyance. It was his job. Damn it. “If we discover why he singled her out, then we’ll have a better chance at protecting her.”
“Yep, that’s what I told the boss.” Dale turned to Allan, raised his brows, and grinned. “He didn’t believe it one bit.” He shook his head. “Said it’s in your profile. You’re an agent with a soft heart when it comes to needy, good-looking dames.”
“I had one wife for nine years. How does that make me a softy when it comes to women?” Allan yanked his car door open.
“You rescued Millie from that awful father of hers, didn’t you?”
“That’s one case.” Allan slammed his door shut as Dale climbed into the passenger’s seat.
“And after your divorce, you tried to rescue that woman separated from her husband, who kept stalking her.”
“So, two cases.” Allan jammed his key into the ignition.
Dale nodded. “Well, here’s your third case.”
Allan stiffened his back. He normally loved his job. But pretending to be the woman’s husband could stir up all kinds of trouble, not in the least bit, the problems he was already having with keepin
g his feelings separate from the mission.
Guarding her and helping her to regain her memories...no problem. But what more would he be expected to do, to accomplish the mission? Already, he was losing sleep over it. And for him, that was a bad sign.
Chapter 2
At the A.T.A.’s condo in the Grand Cayman Islands, sunlight filtered into the bedroom late that afternoon, wrapping it in a blanket of warmth. Oil paintings pictured white stucco shops with red tile roofs and window boxes full of hibiscus and orchids added sparkle to the room. The oak dresser, bedside tables, and two chairs all wore a wash of white, light and airy, perfect for the tropical setting. But none of it held Agent Allan Thompson’s attention as much as the sleeping woman did, who for the first time in three days, finally rested quietly.
Jenny hugged the queen-sized comforter, decorated in red hibiscus with pink throats in a splash of color, tightly against her breast. Her red-blond hair had been freshly dyed brown by a female agent and rested in curls over her shoulders. Now she slept peacefully, undisturbed by the nightmares that plagued her sleep. But when she woke, regaining full consciousness, then what?
The nightmare would really begin. Allan shook his head, not agreeing with the boss on this one. Lying was often part of the job, but telling a woman who had amnesia he was her husband, was taking it too far.
His redheaded male partner rose from the chair he had been sitting in, situated against the bedroom wall and joined him.
Dale cleared his throat. “Better than dying her hair black, don’t you think? The rest of her hair wouldn’t have matched well enough.”
Allan glared at him.
Dale grinned. “Eyebrows, dude. Cameron said you’ve been pretty sullen over this whole case. What gives?”
Their regular partners, Cameron and Samuel, were staying in the first two floors of the condo with two more agents and for that, Allan was grateful. He didn’t want ribbing from all of them at once.
Allan crossed his arms and turned his attention back to Jenny. “The whole plan is ludicrous. She’ll know instantly that I’m not her husband. And then she’ll be screaming abduction or something worse.” He turned to Dale. “Why me?”
“You’re the only one currently unattached.”
Allan shook his head.
“Hey, I asked the boss if I could do the job, but he flatly said no. Safer this way. You’re divorced. No regular girlfriend at the moment. I’ve got a wife and three kids.” He rubbed his bearded chin. “Besides, the Agency doctor said she’s suffering from amnesia. They figure it’ll be better this way.” He folded his arms across his broad chest. “Just think, it’ll be fun getting to ‘know’ her all over again.” He waggled his red brows.
She stirred.
“I think that’s your cue, Allan. I’ll be in the kitchen. You need anything, just holler.”
Allan blew out his breath.
Wilson was the head of a terrorist cell that constantly moved across international borders, one step ahead of the A.T.A. The bastard had only recently slipped back into the U.S. But those running A.T.A. still couldn’t determine the connection between Jenny and him. There seemed to be nothing she had that he would have been interested in, except maybe using her as a cover while he funded his next mindless act of terrorism.
Allan considered the comforter covering her. Yeah, undercover all right.
She stirred again. Her small, heart-shaped faced matched the rest of her petite figure. But he much preferred her naturally red-blond hair. He took a deep breath. What difference did it make?
All that mattered was he ensured Jenny suffered no further injury, and that he nailed Wilson good this time. The man was a master at disguise, but A.T.A. officials hoped Jenny might be able to reveal something that could help identify him when they caught up to him. They had to find out what Thurman wanted with her first though.
To the Agency’s regret, she wouldn’t be able to tell them until she recovered from her amnesia. The doctors had warned she had to be eased into her memories, not forced into remembering her past all at once.
Allan stepped closer to the bed. She was bound to scream when she finally remained conscious long enough and attempted to recognize her surroundings.
“Jenny,” he said, softly.
He reached out to touch her cheek, then pulled his hand back. He did fine play-acting, even pretended to be another agent’s husband once, but this was different. The “wife” at least knew she wasn’t really married to him. On top of that, his divorce with his real wife, Millie, was too fresh in his mind.
She’d hated his secretive lifestyle and his constant trips away. It had only been six months since their divorce had been finalized. Even a pretend marriage to another woman at this point in his life certainly didn’t appeal.
Jenny licked her full pink lips. He swallowed hard. The guys knew he was a sucker for a good-looking redhead, and every one of them had taken the opportunity to rib him mercilessly about his latest assignment.
He walked over to the window and stared out. The job came first, but nothing felt right this time.
The three-story condo sat beachside along an expanse of sugar white shoreline. The next condo was located several hundred feet away, giving the Agency’s building plenty of privacy. Across the sand, the aqua blue waters drifted in and out, licking the white granules in an endless rhythm. If it weren’t for the current job, the place would truly be an island paradise. Often, agents used it on vacation, a safe house away from their normally hazardous duty.
Jenny moaned, and Allan jerked around.
She touched her temple where a raised, discolored lump still marred her smooth, tanned skin.
His heart stilled. She was awake. He couldn’t believe the panic that filled his system. He wasn’t ready for his role as her husband, not now, not ever.
Taking a deep breath, trying to settle his anxiety, he opened his mouth to speak. She didn’t see him, not at first. She glanced to her right, then swept her gaze around the room to her left. When she caught sight of Allan, her green eyes grew bigger than big.
She appeared terrified, and why wouldn’t she be? What if she remembered being struck and thought he was the one who had done the terrible deed? What if she thought he’d taken her hostage?
His mouth grew dryer than a summer drought in Texas. He cleared his throat. He hadn’t been that tongue-tied since he’d wanted to ask the teen of his dreams to the prom. Despite his regret, the time had come to go into his acting mode.
“How are you feeling, Jenny?”
She pulled her comforter higher under her chin.
Afraid he’d alarm her even more, he didn’t make a move toward the bed. “Jenny?”
“Who are you?” she whispered. She sounded really scared and again, he was reminded, he didn’t like this assignment.
He couldn’t say it. I’m your husband. Just three little words. And damn it, he was a trained professional, but he couldn’t do it.
“Did I hear Jenny come to?” Dale asked, stepping into the room.
Great. The boss had ordered Dale to stick to Allan like a windbreaker glued to a body on a windy day. Garcia knew Allan well enough to realize he needed a backup for a time, until everyone’s role in relation to Jenny was well-established. Allan still fought playing the role and didn’t want his best friend pushing him farther into the pit of no return against his wishes.
Her gaze shifted to Dale.
He winked at her. “Your husband has been quite worried about you. Allan, can’t you do better than that? Give your wife a peck on the cheek or something?”
Dale was enjoying this a little too much. Allan could have slugged him.
Walking over to the bed, Dale leaned over, and gave Jenny a kiss on the cheek. She drew back away from him. “Dale Smith, Allan’s best friend, if you don’t remember. You’ve had a bit of amnesia from that knock on the head you got. But the doctor said you’d get your memory back, given time.” He motioned toward the kitchen. “I’ll heat a can of chicken soup up
for you, if you’d like.”
“I...I’m not married.”
“Yeah, that’s what the doctor said you’d say. But it’ll all come back after a while.” He raised a brow at Allan. “I’ll return in a jif, so don’t get too frisky with her in the meantime. You know what the doctor said.”
Yeah, the Agency doctor and his boss both said to do whatever it took to play his part, and in doing so, keep her safe. But he had no intention of taking it anywhere, if he could help it.
“Where...” She tried to sit up further. Allan hurried over to the bed, grabbed the spare pillow, then slid it behind her back. “Thank you. Where are we?”
“Grand Cayman Island.”
She stared at him, seemingly trying to sort out her confusion. “I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember you. Or that other man...or...”
He patted her hand, the guilt filling his system. “It’ll all come back to you.” When it did, he’d be relieved of his job as a newlywed. Thank God. Then he’d act as her bodyguard until they caught the slimy bastard. “I’ll check with Dale to see if he needs any help.”
When he reached the door, she asked, “Have we been married long?”
“Newlyweds. Married two days.”
The Agency felt the less time he said they’d been together, the more likely she’d believe the situation. They hadn’t wanted him pretending to be a bodyguard in the interim. They worried she’d want to return home and cause a real scene if they didn’t permit it. Keeping a woman hostage, even for her own safety, wasn’t one of their missions.
“And we were engaged for how long?”
“Whirlwind romance. One month.”
Her lips rose slightly. “I didn’t realize I was that impulsive.” Then she frowned and her eyes watered. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”
Her tears unsettled him. He fought reaching out to her and pulling her close. Steeling his back instead, he tried to figure out her line of reasoning. “Sorry for what?”
“That I don’t remember you.”
“We’ll…we’ll remedy that.” He meant only as far as he’d help her to get her memory back. Not to add new memories to the charade.
