by Debra Webb
“I…” She met his gaze, the emotion in her eyes under control once more. “I have no memory of my life before.” Moving closer to the mantel, she studied the photos of herself as a child and teenager. “Severe head trauma. Global amnesia. It’s all gone.” As if she couldn’t bear to look anymore, she shifted her attention to Linc. “I had to relearn everything. Walking, eating, you name it.”
That she had suffered such agony tore him up inside. “Good thing you had family.”
“I’m not sure I would’ve survived without them. I wanted to give up almost every day.”
Linc squeezed his fingers into fists in an effort to prevent reaching out to her. “I know that path well myself. But I can’t imagine losing every memory.”
She folded her arms around her middle. “They say it’s gone for good.” A small shrug lifted one slender shoulder. “And they’re right. I did a ton of research. It’s gone. Poof.”
“Not even a flicker?” He hated himself for pushing the subject.
She opened her mouth to answer but hesitated. When she’d thought about his question for a few seconds, she said, “Sometimes I feel things if I smell a certain scent. Like Miss Betsy’s hand soap.”
The confusion must have shown on his face. She explained, “The lady who runs the Dowe house. Her soap smells like vanilla and coconut. It reminds me of something familiar. I just can’t name it.”
Vanilla was her favorite candle scent. Soap, too. And she’d loved rubbing coconut oil on her skin whenever they were at the beach. An ache snaked through him. “Any other triggers?”
“Triggers.” She nodded, her expression distant. “That’s exactly what they call it. Something that evokes a reaction.” A downward sweep of her long lashes banished the faraway look in her eyes. “Touch is another trigger. Stronger even than smell, and that’s unusual. Sometimes when I’m checking a section of repaired plaster I get this sense of déjà vu. Like I’ve done it before. Uncle Vince says it’s just my imagination.”
He would say that. Linc couldn’t wait to get his hands on that SOB. “Those feelings could mean there’s hope. Medical science isn’t perfect. The mind is still largely a mystery. Anything could happen if you’re open to the possibility.”
She laughed. “You sound like the therapist I used to see.”
He made a surprised face. “There’s a therapist in Blossom?”
Another laugh combined with a roll of those pretty eyes. “Not here. In Nashville. Dr. Janssen is the best in the field for my situation. My broken brain.”
Linc made a mental note of the name. “I’m glad your uncle made sure you had the best treatment.” He reached out, couldn’t help himself, and smoothed the pad of his thumb over her cheek. Her breath caught, tightening the band of emotions already girding his chest. “And your brain is not broken. It just got banged up a bit.”
“I’m sorry.” She backed away from him. “I’m supposed to be showing you around, not giving you my sob story.” She motioned for him to follow her. “Come on. I’ll show you the kitchen and we’ll go round up something to eat at my place. I also have tons of color sample chips from the local paint store. You can take them home and figure out what you want.”
Linc hung back a few steps to set her at ease after his invasion of her personal space, and just watched her walk. The stride was a little off, not the smooth, sexy gait she’d once had.
But Lori was still there.
No matter that her brain had been emptied of stored memories, she was there. And Linc was going to find her.
Chapter Ten
Wednesday, June 29, 3:00 a.m.
The rattle of metal against wood woke Linc.
His cell vibrated across the bedside table again and he grappled for it in the dark. “Yeah.”
“Lopez is on the move.”
Keaton. Linc sat up, shoved the hair out of his eyes. “Headed here?”
“Affirmative. A source gave me the heads-up that a private jet filed a flight plan with a small airfield outside Murfreesboro. The flight originates in Bogotá. Arrival time in Tennessee is anticipated as 6:00 a.m. You don’t have much time. What’s your plan?”
Linc reached for his jeans. “I’m out of here and I’m taking her with me.” He set the cell to speaker and placed it on the bedside table so he could pull on his jeans.
“Not that I need to tell you this, but that’s kidnapping.”
“Who’s he gonna call?” Linc wasn’t worried about the bastard contacting the authorities, unless it was local cops, and they were in his pocket already.
“She may do the calling,” Keaton suggested.
Linc hesitated before pulling his shirt over his head. “She’s my wife. Someone else already did the kidnapping. He’s the one who needs to be concerned about involving the law.”
“The responsibility of substantiating your theory rests on your shoulders, Reece. You can’t go off half-cocked and expect to prove your case without evidence. No one knows that better than me.”
Linc took a breath to slow his frustration. “I can prove my case. I told you about Mort and about the photos. I’m right. It’s her.” He’d doubted this whole thing himself at first. But no more. Keaton didn’t argue and that was just as well. With those photos, Linc was certain. He dragged on his T-shirt and shoved his feet into his loafers. They were wasting time. He had to get Lori out of here.
“Take I-24 and head south. I’ll locate a position for the two of you to lie low. It may take a couple of hours.”
“Keep it remote.” Lori wouldn’t be going voluntarily and Linc had no idea how she would react to being held against her will.
“Reece.”
Linc stilled. There was a hint of hesitation or uncertainty in his boss’s tone. Something Linc had never heard from the man.
“If Lopez is Marcos,” Keaton warned, “he had a reason for going to such extremes to keep Lori for himself. He’s not going to give her up without a war.”
Fierce determination roared inside Linc. “It’s him. But this is one war he won’t win.” Linc knew Marcos. His reason for taking Lori would be irrelevant at this point. Marcos considered her his and that was all that mattered. Once he’d laid claim, he would never let go.
With Keaton’s assurance of finding a safe refuge, Linc ended the call and gathered his gear. He’d arrived in Tennessee prepared to some degree. He had his handgun and ammo and camping gear basics. Sleeping bag, a few bottles of water and energy bars. Not exactly a survival kit but enough to get them started.
All he needed now was her. He checked the time. Three-twenty. There were a number of ways he could draw her out of her home, but those options were saddled with the risk that she might make or receive a call before meeting him. He needed to catch her off guard and keep her that way until some distance stood between them and here.
Breaking and entering was the best option.
He just hoped she’d also forgotten how to put a bullet between a guy’s eyes.
3:40 a.m.
MIA’S EYES OPENED. She blinked at the darkness. She’d been dreaming of the accident. The deafening sounds…the heat…the sensation of choking. She had no actual memories of that day. Her therapist had suggested that images and sounds from similar accidents she’d seen in movies or on television had rooted in her subconscious. Whatever the dreams were, she hadn’t had them in a long time. But the dream wasn’t what woke her. The room felt heavy, as if it were closing in on her, suffocating her. She sat up, threw back the covers and reached for the bedside lamp.
A hand manacled hers, pulled her from the bed even as another clasped firmly over her mouth. She tried to scream but her effort was too late. Her body was crushed into a hard frame by an unyielding forearm. Fear ignited in her veins. She struggled to free herself.
“It’s me.”
The male voice was a harsh whisper against her hair. Her mind scrambled to identify the voice. When she did, she stopped fighting.
Reece?
“There’s a situation. I
need your help.”
Mia relaxed a little more. What had happened that he felt it necessary to break into her home and snatch her from her bed?
“Don’t scream. I’m going to let you go so you can get dressed.”
His hands fell away from her. She bolted from him. The move had been instinctive, but she didn’t scream. “What’s going on?” It took a couple of seconds for her to calm her breathing. Evidently he’d needed that same time to gather his thoughts and give her an answer.
“I can’t explain,” he said, his voice too quiet, too empty of emotion. “I have to show you.”
Renewed fear inched its way up Mia’s spine. She’d trusted this stranger too much, too fast. Something was wrong, sure enough—he had lost his mind. Anger kindled, chasing away some of the fear. She reached for the light again and he stopped her just as before.
“No lights.”
Mia turned on him. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Mr. Reece, but this has gone far enough.” The pepper spray her uncle had insisted she keep was in the closet in one of her purses. She’d carried it a few times but the whole idea had seemed ridiculous. Now she wished she had it handy.
“Either get dressed or go as you are,” Reece threatened.
“I’ll need to get to my closet,” she said, feigning cooperation.
He wrapped those long fingers around her arm again. “Lead the way.”
Mia looked in the direction of her closet. Her eyes had adjusted to the faint moonlight that filtered in through the curtains. She stepped in that direction, her throat going dry with the possibilities of what Reece intended. Deep down she wasn’t actually afraid he would hurt her…though maybe she should be.
With her free hand she opened the closet door. There were no walk-ins in these old homes, unless they’d been added in a remodel. She wished now she’d added one, dead bolt included. Then she could close herself away from him. Mia riffled through the hangers, feeling for a pair of jeans and a blouse. She glanced up at the purses on the top shelf. Since Reece stood right behind her she’d have to figure out how she could dig out the pepper spray.
She wiggled into her jeans. Dang it. She didn’t have on a bra beneath the nightgown, but it was pretty dark and her back was to him anyway. Whatever. She yanked off the gown and quickly dragged on the T-shirt.
She took a deep breath. It was time to do something. She faced him, able to just make out his tall frame in the dark. “My shoes are by the bed.”
He stepped aside. Not what she’d wanted him to do.
Tension thumped like a pulse in her chest. What now?
“I need my purse.” She turned and reached to the top shelf in her closet.
He grabbed her extended arm. “You won’t need a purse.”
“Fine.” She yanked loose from his hold and marched to the bed. Plopping down on the mattress, she reached for the shoes she’d toed off last night.
There had to be something else around here she could use as a weapon. Think! As she tied her shoes, a partial plan started to take shape. She would wait until they were outside, then she’d make a break for it. If she screamed loud enough the neighbor’s dog would bark and the whole neighborhood would wake up. Now she wished she’d gotten a dog.
When she stood, Reece took her arm once more and guided her out of the room, down the dark hall and straight to the front door. There he hesitated. “Don’t do anything foolish when we get outside. I’m armed.”
A stream of true panic poured through her muscles. He had a gun? How had she been so blinded by this guy? She’d sympathized with him and their mutually tortured pasts. He’d seemed so broken, so in need of a friend that she clearly hadn’t looked closely enough.
Foolish, Mia. You should have listened to your uncle.
Reece opened her door and they stepped onto the dark porch. The night breeze swept across her face, urging her to run. Instinct warned against allowing him to get her into his SUV.
The two steps down to the sidewalk had her shaking. She needed to do something but she couldn’t. Mia felt frozen from the inside out. Why would he do this? Why would he—
“Stop right there, pal.”
Beside her, Reece froze.
Mia’s brain sluggishly identified the new voice. Teddy Stewart. What was he doing here in the middle of the night?
“Let her go.”
Reece swayed forward from the waist up as if he’d been jabbed in the back with something. His grasp on Mia’s arm relaxed, then fell away.
Mia moved away from him and saw Teddy wielding a shotgun aimed at Reece.
“Put your hands up,” Teddy ordered.
“He has a gun.” Mia told him. But when her gaze met Reece’s, the light from the streetlamp fell over his face and illuminated the ferocity in his blue eyes. Some foolish part of her regretted what she’d just said. She wanted to take back the words. At the same time his posture and the grim set of his lips sent a distinct fight-or-flight response pumping through her chest. He confused her. Why would he do this?
Teddy snagged Reece’s handgun from his waistband. “Get down on your knees.”
Reece obeyed, dropping into a surrender stance. His gaze never deviated from Mia’s. The ability to breathe eluded her. She’d done the right thing. Why, then, did it feel so wrong?
“Mia.”
Her attention swung from Reece to Teddy.
“Get me something to tie him up with.”
She snapped out of her coma enough to nod, and seconds later her feet stumbled into motion. “I’ll call the chief.”
“No.”
The snapped word stalled her at the steps. “Why not?” Reece had broken the law. He’d clearly gone over the edge. Calling the police was the right thing to do. Besides, it scared the heck out of her to see Teddy with that shotgun in his hand. In her six years in Blossom she didn’t think it had ever left his truck.
“Just get me something,” Teddy griped. “Your uncle is on his way here. He wants to talk to this guy first. He says Reece is an old enemy of your father’s.”
“What?” That couldn’t be true. Her father had been a professor at the University of Colorado. He hadn’t had any enemies.
“Mia,” Teddy blustered, “do what I say.”
Mia shook her head. Men. They were all alike. Had to be the boss. She stamped into her house. What was Teddy doing here anyway? Had he been watching Reece or watching her? He was probably doing her uncle’s bidding. Uncle Vince had half the town keeping an eye on her. The man was way, way overprotective. But just now she was sort of glad.
What had Reece been thinking?
She had thought he was a nice guy. A little brooding but definitely not mental. She flipped on her bedroom light and snatched a couple of her belts from the closet. Where had Teddy gotten the idea that Reece had somehow known her father? That was ridiculous. Her father had been loved by everyone who knew him. That Reece had known him and wanted to hurt him was totally fictitious. She stormed out of the bedroom…but stopped dead in her tracks.
Reece stood in the living room, glaring at her. Her stomach dropped to her feet. Why hadn’t she grabbed the pepper spray? She opened her mouth to scream, but he clapped a hand over it and hauled her toward the door. From the corner of her eye she saw Teddy lying on the sofa. He wasn’t moving.
She shook her head and demanded, the words muffled, “What did you do?”
“Your friend will be fine if you stop giving me grief.” He tapped the barrel of his gun against his scarred cheek. “Now let’s go. No screaming, no running.”
Mia threw down the belts, glanced at Teddy to make sure his chest was moving up and down. She walked out the door, down the steps and straight to the SUV parked at the curb. Anger lit in her belly.
He opened the passenger-side door. “Get in.”
She glared at him, then did as he ordered.
While he walked around to the driver’s side she looked for the keys in the ignition. No such luck. Then she looked for his cell phone. He must
have it on him. Great.
He slid into the seat and started the vehicle.
“Where are we going?” He probably wouldn’t tell her but that wasn’t going to stop her from asking.
“Put your seat belt on.”
He pulled away from the curb and accelerated. The way he roared through town was a good thing. Maybe he’d get pulled over and then she would be saved.
Reality set in on the heels of that thought. That wouldn’t happen. The police didn’t patrol the streets of Blossom at night.
Because nothing bad ever happened here.
4:48 a.m.
THEY HAD BEEN ON THE ROAD an hour and she hadn’t said a word. Linc wanted to explain everything to her but he wasn’t sure that was the right thing to do. He hadn’t been able to get in touch with the specialist Keaton had suggested. The man was either out of town or he was avoiding Linc’s call. He didn’t want to risk hurting Lori by taking the wrong steps. The only thing he knew about amnesia was what he’d seen in movies. But this was real life.
His cell vibrated. He dragged it out of his pocket and glanced at the screen to ID the caller. It was Keaton. “Reece.”
“Stay south until you see an exit for Winchester. There’s a cabin waiting for you in a remote community called Francisco. I’m forwarding the directions to your phone.”
That would work. “Any word on his arrival?”
“The plane departed on schedule. I’m leaving for that same airfield now.”
That last part stunned Linc. “Come again?”
“You need backup. I’ll be in Blossom shortly after Lopez arrives. I’ll be watching him.”
Linc wasn’t about to argue with that. With Keaton on Marcos, he could focus on Lori. “I’ll let you know when we arrive at the destination.” He slid his phone back into his pocket.
“Why are you doing this?”
The silent treatment appeared to be over. “I’ll explain when we get where we’re going.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “You’ll go to jail for this, you know.”
“Maybe.”
“What went wrong? Did you forget to take your meds yesterday?”
“Funny.”
