Trey's Secret

by Lois Faye Dyer

  The woman clung to his hand, her face pale and tense beneath her thick mahogany mane.

  “What can I get you?” Lori asked as they took seats at the bar, separated from Risa by two blue-covered stools. There was something oddly familiar about the woman, but Lori couldn’t put her finger on it. But she was sure she hadn’t met her or her companion before.

  “Just coffee,” the big man said.

  Lori took two mugs from the shelf behind her, her back to the room as she reached for the coffeepot.

  “And a little information,” he added.

  “What kind of information?” Lori filled the two mugs and turned to set them atop cocktail napkins on the bar in front of the couple.

  “We’re looking for this man.” He slid a photo across the counter toward her. “Have you seen him?”

  Risa’s glass hit the bar with a decided clink and she leaned forward to peer at the picture.

  Lori stared at the photo of Troy. He looked younger, caught smiling at the camera, and his right temple was smooth and unblemished, with no sign of a scar.

  “Yes.” She tore her attention from Troy’s image and looked at the man. “I have.”

  The woman at his side gasped. “When? Where?”

  Before Lori could reply, a loud crash shattered the tension.

  “Damn.” Trey’s voice preceded him into the room. All four turned to the hallway door to watch him enter. “Sorry, Lori,” he said ruefully. “I knocked over the recycling box again.”

  “Trey.” The dark-haired woman swayed and caught her companion’s arm for support.

  Troy froze in place, his face expressionless as he met her gaze.

  “You’re the woman in my dreams,” he said slowly.

  A sense of betrayal sent a swift stab of pain through Lori’s chest. “You dream about her?” She stared at the woman. Once again she was struck by the familiar features. Tears glistened in eyes that were thick-lashed and dark gray…

  Lori caught her breath as she looked from the woman to Trey and back again. “You two are so much alike — the same eyes…”

  “We’re twins.” The brunette swiped tears from her cheeks with her fingertips, her voice trembling, those gray eyes fastened on Trey. “We’ve been searching for you.”

  “Have you? I wondered if I’d been missed somewhere.” He set the box down on the closest table.

  He joined Lori behind the bar, only a few feet from the stool where the woman sat, tense and clearly emotional. She groaned. “You’ve been hurt. What happened?”

  “Well, that’s the strange thing.” He brushed his fingers over the scar on his temple. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” the tall cattleman said, his voice mild. “Or you don’t remember?”

  “Same thing.”

  “Not always.”

  “You don’t remember, do you?” Anxiety etched the brunette’s face. “Do you know who I am, Trey?”

  Trey? Lori felt her eyes widen in disbelief. She abruptly realized the woman had called him Trey twice now. But his name was Troy — wasn’t it?

  “Do you know who you are?” the man asked.

  “That’s a loaded question,” Trey answered. “Few people know who they really are.”

  “You don’t know.” The brunette frowned, clearly confused. “No matter.” She shook her head. “Your name is Trey Harper and you’re my brother. Did you receive a blow to the head when you got the scar? If so, you could have amnesia.” She leaned closer. “Look at me — really look at me. We’re twins. We have the same color eyes, the same bone structure.”

  “Seems obvious to me,” Risa interrupted. “The two of you are as alike as peas in a pod. Except one of you is male and the other female.” She leaned forward to whisper. “I think it’s safe to tell your sister what you know.”

  “Mother…” Lori protested, wishing Risa wouldn’t get involved. One thing was glaringly clear. The man she’d known as Troy Jones was someone else entirely. He lied to me. Anger was quickly replacing stunned shock and disbelief.

  “It’s all right, Lori,” he said.

  No, it’s not. Rage surged through her before she belatedly realized Troy…no, Trey, was referring to her mother’s comments, not to his lying.

  “I don’t see any harm in telling my sister…” Trey continued before he broke off to stare intently at the brunette. “I remember your face, but not your name.”

  “It’s Raine. And this is Chase McCloud.”

  Lori went still. Chase McCloud? No wonder the man exuded power. His family was one of the richest in the state of Montana. Was Troy — Trey, she corrected — was Trey connected to the McClouds?

  “This is Lori Ashworth and her mother, Risa,” Trey said after he and Chase shook hands. “They own this bar and the restaurant next door.”

  Risa tapped her long red fingernails on the counter and assessed the couple. “Chase McCloud? Even in our little town we’ve heard of the McCloud family and Wolf Creek. I admit, when our boy, here —” she pointed at Trey “— walked in a few weeks ago and told us he didn’t remember a thing, I doubted whether it was true. I even wondered if he was running a scam of some sort. But now that you’ve identified him, well…it’s not likely he would have voluntarily left Wolf Creek to work for us in little old Granger, now, is it?” She smiled. “Is there a reward for keeping him safe?”

  “Mother!” Lori groaned. Trey squeezed her shoulder, and she shifted away from his touch, unable to bear his hand on her skin. The sense of betrayal grew stronger by the second.

  “I hadn’t thought about a reward,” Raine said, looking at Trey as if for guidance. “I believe I’ll leave that up to my brother, since only he knows how safe he’s been.”

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Trey said, his voice even.

  Risa shrugged. “Can’t blame a woman for trying.” She gestured at Raine. “I think you should tell her what you told us happened to you.”

  “Yes,” Raine agreed quickly. “Please do.”

  The outside door opened and two cowboys entered to take seats a few feet beyond Risa.

  “Why don’t you move to a table so you can talk without being overheard,” Lori managed to say quietly. “I’ll deal with the customers.”

  “Join us,” Trey said. “Jeannie can take over for a few minutes.”

  She hesitated, torn between her anger and a need to hear the reasoning behind his charade.

  Trey leaned past her to push the call button next to the cash register. “I can sense the wheels turning inside your head. Don’t convict me until you’ve heard all the facts,” he said grimly.

  She stared at him for a long silent moment. He didn’t look away, and her gaze didn’t shift from his. “I’ll take the cowboys’ order while we’re waiting for Jeannie,” she said finally.

  By the time the group had moved to a table in the corner, Jeannie arrived to mind the bar and Lori joined them. She took a seat beside Risa, purposely leaving the chair next to Trey empty.

  “Please,” Raine was saying as Lori sat down, “tell us what happened.”

  “There’s not much to tell,” Trey began. “I woke up along the highway one morning a few weeks ago. There was a lump and a cut on my head and I couldn’t remember my name or where I lived. A trucker gave me as ride a far as Granger, and I walked in here where Lori and Risa took pity on me. They cleaned me up, let me use a vacant apartment upstairs, and gave me a job.”

  Lori thought, you’ve conveniently left out the part where you let us believe you were someone else — someone we trusted.

  “Did you see a doctor?” Raine asked.

  “Yeah. He stitched me up, gave me some painkillers and told me not to worry about my memory — said in his experience, most cases like mine resolved themselves within a few weeks.”

  “And has it? Begun to resolve itself, I mean.” Raine studied his face intently.

  “I remember bits and pieces. Like tending bar and a killer recipe for nachos.”

  His sister’s ey
es brightened and she laughed. “With jalapeños?”

  “So hot it burns all the way down,” Trey agreed, grinning.

  “It’s one of your specialties at home,” she murmured, smiling at him.

  “So,” Chase commented. “The doctor was right. You’re starting to remember.”

  “Apparently.”

  The first of the regular after-work crowd came in. They’d barely filled the chairs at one table when another group surged through the entrance, chattering and laughing. Behind the bar, Jeannie gestured frantically at Lori.

  She shoved back her chair and stood. “It was lovely meeting you, Raine — and Chase — but I’m afraid I have to get back to work.”

  “Me, too,” Trey said. “Are you staying in Granger tonight?” he asked Raine.

  “Yes.”

  “Good, I don’t finish until midnight. Maybe we can get together for breakfast tomorrow?”

  “Of course.”

  “Can you recommend a local motel?” Chase asked.

  “Granger only has one — Reed’s Inn, on the outskirts of town near the highway exit,” Lori replied.

  “Thanks.” Chase touched the brim of his hat and took Raine’s arm.

  Lori watched the couple walk away, still stunned by their revelations, her temper simmering. “It’s going to take a while to get used to calling you Trey.” Her words carried a sarcastic bite.

  “Yeah.” He continued staring at the empty doorway where Raine and Chase had disappeared. “After all the mystery, it seems a little surreal to finally know the truth.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t suppose you have any idea what happened to the real Troy Jones?”

  “No.” He met her gaze without flinching. “I know I owe you an apology,” he said abruptly.

  “Yes, you do.” At the very least, she thought, purposely drawing several deep breaths in an attempt to defuse her fury. “But a crowded bar isn’t the place to have that conversation. Do you remember everything now?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Bits and pieces, flashes of scenes.” He grimaced. “To be honest, it’s giving me a hell of a headache.”

  She fought down instinctive concern. Damn him. Why should she care if he was suffering? “Should I call in Butch to cover your shift?”

  “No,” he said decisively. “I’ve had worse headaches. I’m hoping they’ll be gone for good once my memory returns completely.” He glanced at the now-crowded room. “Before you joined us at the table, Raine told me she and I own several businesses in Wolf Creek, including one called the Saloon. It’s a western place with an attached restaurant.”

  “Which explains why you know how to tend bar,” Lori said. “And I thought it was because you’ve been working for Bill for the last three years.”

  The place had been almost empty all night. With Jeannie’s urging, Trey left the Granger Bar shortly after ten-thirty, the night air warm on his bare arms. Lori had treated him with icy reserve until she’d left for home around nine o’clock. He didn’t know how the hell to explain and he was damned if he’d try with a bar full of people hearing everything.

  With a few simple words, his sister had handed him his identity and given him back his life. Those same few words had cost him Lori’s trust.

  Bad luck. Bad timing, he thought. He’d known, by the flush of anger in her cheeks, the instant she realized he’d lied to her. The hot glitter of her eyes had become frosted green glass by the time she left the bar.

  Only a cool sliver of moon hung high in the black, star-spangled sky and the streets were quiet, the sound of the jukebox growing muted and finally fading away altogether. He was two blocks away from the bar and crossing the opening of an alleyway when the back of his neck tingled in warning. Instinct told him he wasn’t alone on the empty street. He glanced down the gap between the buildings but it was a dark tunnel where nothing moved.

  He walked faster, scanning the sidewalk ahead and behind. He found nothing to confirm his gut feeling that he was being watched. Nevertheless, the conviction didn’t go away. He stopped with his back to the brick wall of the Granger Pharmacy and slipped the knife from his boot, palming it.

  He left the business section behind and reached the residential area, lit by streetlights and the golden glow that spilled onto lawns from the open doors and windows of the houses. Here the shadows were darker beneath overhanging branches of leafy trees.

  At the end of the last block of homes and a short half mile from the highway was Reed’s Inn. The small, neatly kept motel had twelve units and boasted a swimming pool in a chain-link enclosure. Climbing roses spilled over one end of the fence, throwing puddles of shade over the concrete pad surrounding the pool.

  Dusty pickup trucks were parked in front of four of the units, and an expensive-looking black SUV sat outside a fifth. Trey took a chance and knocked on the door. Almost immediately it opened and Chase waved him inside. Trey stepped over the threshold, glancing over his shoulder.

  “I might have been followed.” He frowned. Had he imagined the feeling he was being watched?

  “Why would someone be following you?” Chase asked, giving the night a swift, sweeping scan before closing the door and locking it.

  “I don’t know.” He glanced at Raine, who was curled up on pillows propped against the bed’s headboard. The remote control for the television lay beside her and she was dressed in a light tank top and pajama bottoms while Chase wore only a pair of Levi’s. A huge black rottweiler sprawled on the floor by the bed. He opened one eye to stare at Trey, then woofed softly and went back to sleep.

  Chase didn’t question him further, instead he nodded at the dining area in the corner of the room. “Have a seat.”

  Raine left the bed and joined them, tucking one leg beneath her to perch on a chair. “You ordered those boots from a shop in Dallas.” She pointed at his feet. “They were custom-made and the boot-maker stamped your initials, TH, in the tool work just above the ankle on the inside of each boot.”

  Taken aback at the ease with which she explained one of the many things he’d wondered about over the last weeks, Trey raked his hand through his hair. “Damn. You’re right.” He pulled out a chair and straddled it, his forearms resting on the back. “After you left the bar, I borrowed Lori’s office computer and ran a search on your name. You’re listed as the owner of a business in Wolf Creek, together with a brother named Trey.”

  “But you still don’t remember Raine or your life in Wolf Creek?” Chase asked.

  “I’ve been having flashes, bits and pieces of memories, but I don’t have a full picture yet.”

  “Maybe it would be easier if you told us what you do remember,” Chase suggested.

  “I have no clear memory of a life prior to roughly three or four weeks ago when I woke up in a ditch…”

  An hour later Trey left the motel room. Talking with his sister and Chase had given him a lot of information and explained a great deal, but left several major questions unanswered.

  For him, the world had shifted on its axis, but Granger seemed oblivious. The moon was still a sliver of pale white, the residential streets quiet. The houses that had been well lit earlier were now dark as neighborhoods slept.

  Trey moved quickly down the sidewalk. The sixth sense that had warned him of danger earlier was calm, and he reached Lori’s house without incident. The drapes were drawn and no lamplight glowed behind the blank windows.

  He debated walking away without disturbing her. But if he did, he might have to leave town before talking to her.

  “Oh, what the hell,” he muttered and jabbed the button for the doorbell. She was already furious with him — how much madder could she get if he woke her?

  Seconds ticked by and he was about to push the bell again when a light switched on inside and the door opened abruptly. Lori looked at him through the screen. Her hair hung in a thick sheaf of silver down her back and she wore a short blue cotton robe, her thighs bare beneath the short hem.

  “What are you do
ing here?” she demanded.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “It’s the middle of the night. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

  “No, it can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m leaving town in the morning,” he said flatly.

  She stared at him for a moment, then silently pushed the screen door open.

  He brushed past her into the entryway, and the clean scent of her floral shampoo reached his nostrils. The smell instantly roused memories he couldn’t forget — Lori cheering with excitement at the ball field just before she grabbed and kissed him — Lori in the hayloft with her hair spread beneath her, white-blond against the red blanket. A dozen more snapshots flickered through his mind, swift as lightning, and the knowledge that he had to leave her tomorrow hit him like a blow.

  He caught the edge of the door in one hand and pushed it shut as he wrapped his other arm around her and backed her against the closed door.

  She sputtered and slapped her palms against his chest, shoving hard.

  He bent his head and covered her mouth with his but she stiffened with rejection, her lips stubbornly closed.

  Just when he realized he should let her go, she melted and reached for him, her arms circling his neck, her hands closing into fists in his hair. Her lips parted and she kissed him back, her mouth hot and fiercely passionate.

  He fought down the urge to pick her up and carry her to bed. She deserved the truth, at least as much of it as he knew.

  On the other hand, if he gave her time to think, she’d probably kick him out.

  Helluva choice, he thought, and reluctantly broke free.

  “We need to talk.” He gently held her wrists and pressed a kiss into her palms.

  “Let go of me.” She jerked away from him, her voice husky with the remnants of passion and returning anger. “And get out of my house.”

  “Give me ten minutes — just ten minutes,” he repeated as she opened her mouth. “If you still want to throw me out after I tell you what little I know, then I’ll leave.”

  She glared at him for a long moment, her curiosity seeming to battle with her desire to want him gone.