I'LL REMEMBER YOU

by Barbara Ankrum

  Only then did he realized how hard he was gripping the bedpost.

  "What is it?" Tess was asking, moving toward him with a frown. "Jack?"

  "I – I don't know." And he didn't. He had no idea who that woman was and why he'd thought of her. But his pulse raced with the possibilities.

  "Are you remembering something?"

  "Maybe. But I can't be sure."

  Tess moved to kneel in front of him. "What was it? Can you tell me?"

  Sweat had broken out on his brow. He likened the feeling to remembering a dream once you'd opened your eyes. The truth of it evaporated a little with each passing moment. That tentative connection with the woman in that picture was even now fading. But the feeling that 'his memory would eventually return was growing stronger. "It's nothing solid. Someone I must have known. A woman."

  She arched one eyebrow. "Were there weapons involved?"

  "Only if looks could kill." He liked it when Tess smiled that way, as if they were sharing news over the breakfast table. As if she'd known him forever.

  "Who was she?"

  "I don't know. I didn't get much. Just a flash."

  Tess bit her lip pensively. "That's encouraging, don't you think? I mean, maybe it'll all start tumbling back now. Maybe this is just the first trickle in the broken dam."

  If it were only that simple, he thought. He looked down at the tattoo on his forearm and wondered about it. He felt strongly that it was somehow connected with that memory of the woman, but how?

  He looked up at Tess, who was still watching him intently, as if she believed she could understand him if she simply tried hard enough. He suspected that a woman like her operated on that theory with a fairly high success rate. He suspected, however, that with him she was headed for a fall. And not the sort he would prefer. No, if she stuck with him, he would undoubtedly take her down with him.

  A silent clock was ticking in his head. Time was running out. For both of them.

  Maybe a date with Deputy Dan was the best thing that could have happened to her. Who better to protect her from whoever was pursuing them than the local constable?

  That thought naturally led to the next, inevitable one: when the time came, how could Jack actually let her go?

  "You need to rest," she said, putting a hand on his good shoulder and pressing him back onto the bed. "You'll never get well driving yourself crazy like this. Close your eyes. I'm going out for a while to get some food. I want you to sleep while I'm gone. Got that?"

  Jack frowned as she tucked a quilt around him. He hated that she was right. But being horizontal was like a Pavlov's cue for his body to sleep. Fatigue weighed on him like a heavy blanket. He despised being less than whole and hated even more that she knew it. But sleep was the only thing that would heal him now. And whatever it took to accomplish that, he would do.

  "Hey, Tess?"

  She turned on her way out the door. "Yeah?"

  "I was just…" He wasn't sure why he'd called her back. Maybe it was to see the way the morning light fell across the soft contours of her cheek, or the way his saying her name out loud always seemed to catch her off guard. Maybe just to keep her with him for a few more minutes. Whatever the reason, he didn't regret it. Fixing the sight of her in what remained of his memory, he decided against diving into water that was black and uncharted and strictly off-limits. "Never mind," he said at last.

  "What?" she prodded. "Tell me."

  "It's dumb. I was just wondering if … if none of this had happened, if we'd just met like two regular people, would you have turned me down for dinner – if I'd asked?"

  She studied the fabric of the quilt on his bed. "I probably would've," she admitted, "but it would've been my mistake." She looked up at him through a sweep of lashes and smiled. "Go to sleep now."

  She was gone before he could ask her to elaborate.

  He closed his eyes with a sigh. Hell, he thought, thinking of the look she'd sent him. He could probably get Tess Gordon into bed with him. And he was damned sure he wouldn't disappoint her. But she wasn't the type of woman a man diddled, then walked away from. She was the kind of woman a man put down roots with. Just the kind a tumbleweed like him could never have.

  * * *

  Late afternoon sunlight slanted through the room by the time Jack opened his eyes again. Groggily, he pulled himself awake to the sound of pans clanking in the kitchen and the awareness that Tess had returned. For a few minutes he lay there, allowing himself to imagine her moving about in the kitchen preparing food for them. Somehow the whole day had slipped past him, but a quick inventory of his various aching parts told him the sleep had been well worth the time spent. He felt better. Considerably better. As if his gas tank had been topped off.

  He sat up and gingerly rolled his left shoulder, surprised to find that it no longer moved like a rusted-out hinge. It was still sore, but the pain was manageable. He threw off the quilt and got up. That was when he made the mistake of looking in the mirror hanging over the pine dresser at the end of his bed. The image that stared back at him was a stranger who looked as if he'd dragged himself in off the mean streets of L.A. He needed a shower and a shave and a clean shirt, but he guessed it might be a few more days before Tess let him get his shoulder wet. Even more than cleanliness, he thought, dragging a hand through his hair and listening to his stomach growl, he needed food.

  The scent of it drew him toward the kitchen, where Tess had her back to the doorway, fussing over something at the sink. She didn't hear him padding barefoot into the room, and jumped when he touched her arm.

  "Sorry," he said, staring at the handful of grapes still dripping with water in her hand. "Didn't mean to scare you. How long have you been back?"

  "About two hours," she said, wrapping the fruit in a paper towel and setting it on the counter. "I didn't have the heart to wake you. You looked so peaceful. How do you feel?"

  "Better. A lot better." He opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a jug of milk. Twisting off the top, he nearly drank straight from the bottle, but Tess intercepted with a glass.

  "Hungry?" she asked dryly.

  He smiled and downed the milk without coming up for air. "Mmm. Milk," he sighed, pointing at the empty glass, "was a great invention."

  "Yes," she agreed gravely. "Bovines are masters of technology. Yogurt was theirs, too, you know."

  "No!" he said, lifting his eyebrows and watching the playful expression steal over Tess's face. "They invented that?"

  "Oh, yes. And ice cream. They had it first. Before all the lactose-intolerant herds began producing rank imitations." She wrinkled her nose. "But you know, the quality just isn't there."

  Jack grinned. "You're a wealth of information, Doc."

  "And you've gotten your appetite back."

  "Apparently," he replied, popping some more grapes in his mouth. "What's for dinner?"

  "It's a surprise."

  Jack moved in the direction of the covered pan on the stove to peek.

  "Ah-ah!" she warned, coming between him and the stove. "It's not ready yet." As a matter of fact, I think you have just time enough for a hot shower."

  He swiveled, sending her a disbelieving look. "A shower? Don't tease me, Tess."

  She grinned. "I never tease about something that important. You could wait another day or so, but I don't think irrigating your wound will hurt. Just take care not to let the spray hit it directly. Do you think you're up to standing that long?"

  "I'd sell my soul for it." Jack was close enough to smell the fragrance of soap on her and the alluring scent that belonged only to her. He couldn't pull his gaze from the way her teeth slid against her lower lip.

  "It won't cost you that much."

  His gaze moved to her eyes. "What?"

  Color flushed her face. "The shower. You can have it for free."

  "Oh," he said. "Right. The shower."

  "Do you, uh, need any help getting the bandage off?"

  "Thanks, but I can handle it," he said, moving toward the b
athroom and closing the door behind him.

  "Okay," she said a little uncertainly. "Towels are in the cabinet to the right of the sink, and if you get dizzy just call me."

  Call her? Stripping off his jeans, he knew calling her could be damn near fatal. He wouldn't think about Tess standing on the other side of that door, waiting for him to get naked. Nor would he contemplate the rather explicit image he had in his mind of her joining him there. No, he decided, giving the shower faucet a vicious twist, he would just step into that steaming water and not think at all. That and ripping the hair off his chest beneath this adhesive tape was his best defense against the creeping suspicion that thinking was the least of his problems where Tess was concerned.

  * * *

  When he'd finished his shower and shave, he wrapped the towel around his hips and opened the bathroom door, half expecting to see Tess there waiting to catch him.

  Instead, he heard her humming in the kitchen, rattling plates and silverware. Dinner smelled sumptuous and he was prepared to make a hog of himself. He couldn't remember ever feeling so hungry. Of course, he couldn't remember much of anything before three days ago, so he supposed that didn't count for much.

  The table in the living room was half-set. She'd picked some wildflowers and shoved them artfully into an old blue, speckled coffeepot. He ignored the two glasses of wine and went for the ice water set at one of the places. He had yet to quench this thirst of his and couldn't seem to get enough water. Glancing down at the towel around his hips, he decided it wasn't the proper attire for dinner, and headed back to the bathroom for his pants.

  Her purse lay on the couch, but that wasn't what caught his eye. It was the cell phone tucked inside, exposed by the open flap of her purse. What the hell? She hadn't told him she had a phone.

  Jack glanced at the kitchen, then reached into Tess's purse. He picked up the phone and stared down at it. The power was off. He pushed the on button and the small green screen flashed with the message, "Missed call."

  A bad feeling crawled up his neck. She'd told him no one knew where' they were. Who had been trying to call her? And who had she been calling? He scrolled up to the messages and found one: "Call me back. Gil."

  He pressed the talk button twice. The phone automatically dialed the last number Tess had dialed. He waited while the number connected. A machine answered.

  "You've reached Detective Gil Castillano. I'm not here to take your call, but leave your name, a brief message and your phone number at the tone and I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

  Jack sat down hard. Detective? She'd been calling a cop?

  Tess's timing couldn't have been worse. Looking happy and content, with hands full of plates and silverware, she hurried into the room. "Oh, you're finished," she said, setting the dishes on the table. "But you're not dressed. Dinner's ready. I just have to—"

  Then she really looked at him. The expression on Jack's face erased the smile from hers. The phone in his hands made her go absolutely pale.

  "Who's Gil?" he said.

  She swallowed hard. "What are you doing going through my purse? And how did you know about Gil?"

  He stood, holding on to the towel loosely hanging around his hips. Redialing Gil's phone number with the punch of a button, he watched Tess go pale. "What are you doing calling cops? When were you going to tell me? When you turned me over to them? Or were you just going to surprise me?"

  She had the nerve to look stricken. "It isn't like that."

  "Really? What is it like? And what happened to 'we have to trust each other, Jack'? I guess that means me, right? I have to blindly trust you even when you—"

  "Stop it and listen to me. I didn't betray you. If I had, do you think we'd still be alone here? Believe me, we wouldn't, if you'll just listen for a minute—"

  "I'm all ears," he snapped, tossing the phone down roughly on the couch. "Let's start with Gil."

  Tess's eyes strayed to the towel at his hips and back to his face again. "Gil is a detective with the LAPD."

  "Correct me if I'm mistaken, but isn't that exactly who we've been trying to get away from?"

  "He's with the Westside Division, not Santa Monica. He was Adam's partner and he's a very dear friend."

  Jack's eyebrows went up. "Exactly how dear?"

  She shook her head. "Not like that," she said, sounding defensive. "He's probably the only thing that held me together through the last two years. I called him because he would have been worried about me. He's the only one who would have been worried about me."

  Jack stood watching her, his body taut with anger as she went on.

  "When I smuggled you out of the hospital, I was afraid. I didn't know who those men were who were chasing you and I didn't know what to do. I needed someone on the inside I could trust to help me. Help us. You have to believe me, Jack, I never betrayed you."

  "So, this Gil … he knows where we are?"

  She shook her head. "Yes, but I didn't tell him. He figured it out. But these people, the ones after you – us – put surveillance devices on his car, they've bugged his phone…"

  He rolled his eyes. "Ah, hell—"

  "They're watching him. He wouldn't do anything to put me in more danger."

  Jack stalked to the window, pulled back the curtain and stared out through the thicket of pines that surrounded the cabin. "More being the operative word. If they've connected him to you, what about to Cara? This place?"

  "There's nothing at my house to connect me to her except maybe my address book, but they'd have no reason to think I'm here. It would be a long shot at best. This cabin belonged to her parents, anyway, and is registered under their names."

  "What else does Gil know? About me."

  Tess wished he'd put something on besides that towel. And that he'd stop looking at her as if she'd suddenly grown horns. "There's a warrant out on a man fitting your description."

  "A warrant?"

  She hesitated, not wanting to tell him. "For murder." He made a strangled sound. "God Almighty! Who am I supposed to have—"

  "A drug smuggler named Ramon Saldovar." His gaze whirled around the room, landing on a dozen different places as if he were seeking some kind of handhold. "A drug smuggler?"

  She nodded.

  With an oath, he hugged his bad arm to his chest and started pacing around the room. "I killed him?"

  His words galvanized her, and she intercepted him. "Jack—"

  But he wouldn't let her touch him. Jerking his arm away from her touch, he glared at her. "Did I?"

  "We don't know that. I believe you've been set up. There's more. Sit down."

  "No." He stalked past her with no real destination, stopping only for walls and furniture. "Why didn't you tell me this?"

  Indeed. "You've been very sick."

  "Dammit, Tess, no more lies! Not now!" A vein throbbed in his neck.

  The room had grown uncomfortably warm and she dragged her gray sweater off and dropped it on the upholstered ottoman beside her knee. "I couldn't tell you before. I didn't … know if I could trust you."

  A laugh that sounded more like a bark erupted from him. "And obviously you still don't." He grabbed up the phone and thrust it at her.

  Her head was beginning to pound. "You think this is that simple?"

  "Simple?" He said it with the inflection of a man who'd just been told the moon was blue.

  Guilt gave way to the first stirrings of anger. "Are you forgetting that I saved your life? That I was the one who stayed up forty-eight hours straight so you wouldn't die?"

  A muscle in his jaw jumped, but he didn't say anything.

  Her whole body was trembling and she couldn't stop it. "I did what I had to do to save your life. And to save mine. Tell me, Jack, if the situation were reversed, what would you have done?"

  He bowed his head, staring at the floor.

  "You owe me at least the benefit of the doubt here."

  Jack heaved the cell phone onto the couch and followed it down. Shoving his hands t
hrough his still-damp hair, he shook his head slowly. "You're right. I have no right to question your motives."

  "No more than I do yours." She stalked into the bathroom, came back with his jeans and threw them at him. "Get dressed. I can't talk to you in that towel."

  Turning her back on him, she listened to the slide of stiff fabric as he dragged the jeans on and buttoned them. She needed a moment to gather her wits, to calm down.

  "You can turn around now."

  Losing the towel had done nothing to diminish the distraction Jack's body provided, she mused with annoyance, except perhaps to remind her that he was as sexy in clothes as he was out of them. With his hair damp from his shower and his jaw freshly shaved, he hardly resembled the man she'd stumbled upon the other night on the road, or the one Gil was so convinced was a villain.

  The outrage that had sparked in Jack's eyes only moments earlier had cooled to a smoldering disillusionment. Never had she been more acutely aware of how alone and lost he really was. The possibility that she, his only friend, had betrayed him too, had been an ugly blow, and not one that made her proud. She should have told him about Gil sooner. Why hadn't she, honestly?

  Was it that she was, in truth, afraid of him? Or – and this possibility seemed infinitely more unsettling – did she fear that once he did remember his past, he would no longer need her?

  "You said there was more. What else, besides the fact that I'm allegedly a murderer and a drug smuggler, is there?"

  "I told you I don't believe that."

  "So you said." Jack studied her with the cool detachment of a man who had already gotten too close to the fire and wasn't about to make the same mistake again.

  Tess sat down on the couch and motioned for him to join her. Reluctantly, he did.

  "The night I brought you to the hospital? Those records have disappeared. There is no record of either of us being there. Or of any gunshot victim." The expression on his face, she thought, was chillingly familiar. She went on. "The nurse who was assigned to you? She left on an extended vacation the day after you were there, and the surgeon we called in to operate on you was called off the case before he even reached the hospital."