The Amnesiac Bride

by Marie Ferrarella

  Zane thought of Sally. A man didn’t shower a woman with expensive gifts if she didn’t mean something to him on some level. He doubted that Quinton knew what love was, but he’d be willing to bet that lust and the satisfaction of it were high on his list.

  “I thought sex might figure into that somewhere.” Carefully, he drew the smoke into his mouth and then slowly blew it out. Zane congratulated himself for not choking.

  Quinton thought of Russell’s wife. The woman had a tight little rear he wouldn’t mind fondling. He wondered if Russell was subtly offering her to him the way he’d offered Russell his cigars.

  “Sex is part of it,” he agreed. “A nice little dividend. You play the game right and all the trappings come to you. But I suppose I don’t have to tell you that, do I?”

  Zane was going to be glad when this was over. He felt like a fly that had nearly managed, against all odds, to traverse the spider’s web and make it to the other side without getting captured or devoured. That was his goal. To make it to the other side without getting caught or eliminated.

  “No, you don’t,” Zane agreed.

  It was time to draw the discussion to a close, Quinton decided. He was, after all, on his vacation, and this was business. He rose. “I’ll have the goods ready for you just before I leave.”

  There was something in Quinton’s voice that tipped him off. “You have them here?”

  Quinton deliberately ignored the question. He hadn’t gotten to where he was by letting anyone else have too much information. It was his to dole out as the need required. There was no need here.

  “I’ll have them ready for you before I leave,” Quinton repeated. “Unless I change my mind.” Possession put him in the driver’s seat.

  He’d overstepped his bounds, Zane realized, and he was having his hand slapped. The point was not to ask too many questions and arouse Quinton’s annoyance.

  “Hope that doesn’t happen.” Zane voiced the sentiment with enough contrition mixed with confidence to carry it off. Quinton seemed mildly impressed at how coolly he handled himself.

  “And of course you’ll have the money when the exchange is made?”

  Zane didn’t blink an eye, even though the smoke stung. “Of course.”

  Quinton didn’t like being in the dark. The dark was something that he was supposed to utilize, not inhabit. “It’s not in your suite.”

  Nothing appeared to have been disturbed within the suite, but Zane had no doubts that Quinton had already had the room searched. That was why the money was being held elsewhere for safekeeping. Sheridan had made the drop for him. A valise filled with the amount they had agreed on, an amount Zane had subtly engineered Quinton to accept, was in the safe of another hotel.

  The smile on Zane’s mouth matched Quinton’s. Cool, unshakable. “No, it’s not.”

  Quinton’s smile deepened, a hint of underlying steel evident. “You remind me a little of me when I was first starting out.”

  He was a man who was difficult to read. Zane wasn’t sure whether Quinton was offering friendship or being cutting. “I’m not a novice, Mr. Quinton, if that’s what you mean. But I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “You should.” Quinton was growing tired of the conversation. “All right, then it’s settled. We’ll make the exchange just before I leave. I’m partial to noon.” That taken care of, Quinton dismissed him. “You can go, Russell.” Rising, he walked in front of Zane to the door. “I expect to see you with your wife at the casino this evening.”

  Pausing, his hand on the knob, Quinton looked at Zane. “She doesn’t know anything about this, does she?” It was an assumption, not a question. There was nothing in the woman’s manner to indicate that she suspected.

  Zane shook his head. “Only what I tell her.”

  It was what Quinton wanted to hear. “Keep it that way. Women just tend to get things tangled up. I find they serve their purpose best when kept on a short leash.”

  Zane wondered what Whitney would have said about that philosophy. Given her nature, or her nature before she’d fallen on the balcony, she would have felt compelled to show Quinton just how much damage she could do, even tethered on a short leash.

  He’d give anything to be able to see that, Zane mused. Taking the hand Quinton offered, he shook it. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  Zane hurried up to his suite. He’d felt uneasy all during the negotiations with Quinton. It hadn’t had anything to do with Quinton himself, which, Zane knew, was a mistake in itself. He should have kept his mind entirely on the deal being negotiated and remained on his guard. That was why he was here in the first place.

  But even as terms were being reviewed, Zane found his mind drifting to Whitney. She was the source of his unease.

  He didn’t like leaving her alone for any length of time. Zane wanted to be around her, to filter any information that might come her way and act as a buffer. Though it sounded suspiciously like Quinton’s philosophy, it had nothing to do with keeping her on a leash. It was just that he was so close to pulling this off, Zane didn’t want to take a chance on Whitney somehow killing the deal.

  Killing.

  It was an appropriate word in this case. Zane didn’t delude himself that Quinton had taken a parental liking to him. Quinton was the type of man who could coolly have eliminated anyone who displeased him for any reason, real or imagined. His reputation struck fear into men’s hearts, and with good cause. Richard Quinton had power at his disposal. Power that could very easily ruin lives, as well as end them.

  Quinton was definitely not a man you wanted to get on the wrong side of. Not unless you had a .38 in your hands.

  The elevator doors opened on his floor and Zane hurried out. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

  He could feel it as he walked down the hall. The back of his neck itched again. He ran his hand over it and looked around, expecting to find that he was being watched.

  But there was no one in the hall. No convenient maid pushing a cleaning cart, no bellman seeming to hurry toward another destination. No evidence of a surveillance camera.

  That didn’t mean that there wasn’t one somewhere on the floor, although he’d had Sheridan check the layout thoroughly before he’d booked this suite. The surveillance cameras didn’t necessarily have to belong to the hotel. Quinton was a sophisticated man with highly trained, intelligent people in his employ.

  Which was why Zane was careful of every word he uttered.

  He hoped to hell that Quinton hadn’t entertained himself by watching him with Whitney. The thought hadn’t occurred to him until just now. Now that it did, Zane could feel his anger rising. He reined it in. No sense in getting himself worked up on a supposition. He had enough to worry about.

  Zane unlocked the door quietly, wondering if he’d find Whitney asleep If she was, he didn’t want to wake her until it was almost time to leave for the casino.

  She wasn’t asleep. She was awake.

  And he had an entirely different problem to deal with.

  Whitney was sitting on the bed, rigid. Exactly as she had been for the past half hour. She was obviously waiting for him to return.

  On her lap was his backup weapon.

  Zane silently cursed himself. Somehow he must have gotten careless.

  Zane slipped the suite card into his pocket. “What do you have there?” he asked lightly, as if he were inquiring about a new pair of shoes she’d just purchased.

  When he bent to kiss her cheek, Whitney pulled her head back. Her surprise and disbelief had had time to simmer and settle. Her anger was now stone cold and all the more formidable for it.

  “You know what this is. No games, Zane.” She took the gun in both hands and held it up to him. “This was in your suitcase. What was it doing in there?”

  Unable to answer immediately, he countered with an offensive of his own. “What were you doing in my suitcase?”

  But she was on to him. “No diversions, Zane, no tantalizing sex romps
to get me off course. You’re not allowed to ask any questions, only answer them. I want the truth. What are you doing with a gun?” She enunciated each word of the question slowly, letting them sink in one by one.

  Zane shoved his hands into his pockets, digging deeper than the fabric. Thinking fast. “I need it to protect myself.”

  She wasn’t buying it. At least, not without details. “What does a land developer have to protect himself from? Rabid squirrels?”

  He didn’t rise to the bait. His voice was as calm as hers was heated. “I didn’t tell you about this because I didn’t want to upset you.”

  That was certainly ironic. “Well, you failed. I’m upset. I’m very upset.” She looked down at the weapon, then at him. Was he out of his mind? What was he thinking? “What are you doing with this? Carrying around guns is illegal.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve got a permit.” Just not on him. What he was carrying on him was another gun, a smaller one that was easily accessible.

  That didn’t make any sense. “If you have a permit, why was the gun hidden?”

  “I told you, I didn’t want to upset you. Besides, this isn’t Dodge City, Whit. You don’t exactly wear a gun strapped on your hip anymore.”

  His voice was low, soothing, with just a hint of an apology in it. It amazed him how well he could carry it off. But he still hated lying to her like this. He’d never had to before. Except about one thing and that hadn’t been a verbal lie. Only one that he had lived. He realized that now more than ever.

  He reached for the weapon but didn’t take it. He had no way of knowing if she had loaded it. “May I?”

  She raised her hands away from it. “Take it. Throw it away.”

  He picked it up by its barrel and carefully replaced it in his suitcase. The false bottom had somehow come undone. He thought of Quinton and what he’d said about the money not being in the suite.

  Looked as if his men hadn’t found the gun. If they had, he knew they would have taken it.

  “They don’t like you just throwing guns away.” He slid the closet door closed again. “I think it comes under the same heading as disposing of paint and inflammable cleaning fluids.”

  She felt cold. Cold and bereft. How could she trust him when there were things he wouldn’t tell her? What else was there that she didn’t know?

  “This isn’t funny, Zane.”

  He sat down beside her on the bed. Her body stiffened. Zane tried to curb his anger.

  “No, it’s not funny,” he agreed. He took her hand in his. When she pulled it away, he took it again. And this time held it firmly. “But you have to understand, I was afraid for my life. And yours.”

  “Mine?” She stared at him, completely confused. “Why?” And then it came to her. “Does this have anything to do with Quinton?”

  He wanted to tell her. Wanted to tell her so badly that the words formed and hovered on his tongue. He was close, so close.

  And then he looked into her eyes and lied. “No, it doesn’t. It has to do with Madeline.” The fact that he could it so smoothly told him he was good at what he did.

  Right now, he wasn’t exactly crazy about his job.

  But she couldn’t know the truth yet. Not until he had the cocaine in his possession and Quinton had the money in his.

  Madeline was his mother’s name. A name he would always remember, even if her face had long disappeared into the murky recesses of time, erasing all trace from his memory. He couldn’t remember what she looked like, no matter how hard he tried. But then, he’d only been about four when she’d walked out on him.

  It still wasn’t making any sense to Whitney. “Madeline? Who’s Madeline?”

  “My former girlfriend. The woman you made me forget.”

  Very tenderly, Zane touched her cheek. What had started out as an explosion of chemistry had come down to this. Love. He was in love with her. Gut-wrenchingly in love.

  And it wasn’t going to matter to her, once she knew. She probably wouldn’t even believe him. It was the price he paid for keeping her safe.

  Getting his mind back on the story he was fabricating, Zane continued. “The woman who swore she wouldn’t be forgotten. She stalked me, Whitney. And threatened to kill both of us if she ever found us together. I got a restraining order against her, but Madeline’s not the kind who’d let a legal document get in the way of what she wants.”

  Why hadn’t he said anything about this before? Or had he? No, he couldn’t have. He was acting as if this was the first time he was telling her about this. Her anger melted. She began to think how awful this must have been for him, holding back a secret because he wanted to protect her. She didn’t want to be protected; she wanted to help him.

  “You’re being stalked?”

  “I was. Madeline hasn’t been around in the past month, but I’m still not convinced she won’t turn up. She doesn’t usually give up easily. Knowing I had a gun around made me feel a little better. It gives me an edge on her.”

  She looked toward the closet. “Doesn’t do much good in the suitcase.”

  “It’s a precaution.” He looked at Whitney and told her the truth. “I don’t want to take a chance on anything happening to you.”

  He made her feel loved and cherished. “Nothing’s going to happen to me,” she said with such confidence that for a moment he thought her memory had returned. “And we’ll face this thing together. I don’t know what I was like before. Probably a hothouse flower, from all the indications I’m picking up from you.” .

  Zane tried not to smile. The complete opposite was true.

  “But all that’s going to change. I don’t want to be just your wife, Zane. I want to be your partner. In everything.” She turned her face up to his. “No more secrets.”

  Oh, God, Whitney, why are you making this so hard?

  “No more secrets,” he promised and wished he could bite off his tongue. All the reasons he had for the lie didn’t seem to want to hold up. Not in the face of the look in her eyes.

  That resolved, curiosity nibbled at her. “What was she like?”

  He shrugged, buying himself a little time. The fewer details he gave her, the less he’d have to remember. The list was already too long.

  “Just someone passing through my life. No one important. Not like you.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “How’s your headache?”

  It had disappeared. She hadn’t even noticed it go. Her mouth curved. “I think you cured it.”

  Maybe he could buy himself a little more time. A little more of heaven before he was cast down into hell for all eternity. He slipped his arms around her. “Anything else aching that I can cure?”

  The smile began in her eyes. “Well, now that you mention it—”

  Chapter 12

  Deep-seated satisfaction mingled with exhaustion, suffusing her. This had to be what a marathon runner reaching the finish line felt like.

  Whitney could hardly move.

  A smile drifted over her face as she looked at the man beside her on the floor. They’d blazed a trail through the suite and had wound up just at the foot of the bed, never quite managing to get into it. It didn’t matter. Anywhere she was was paradise, as long as Zane was with her.

  With a sigh of contentment, she feathered her fingers through his hair.

  “You know, I feel as if I’ve known you forever. Like we’ve been soul mates for a very long time.” Whitney smiled at her own words. “I guess that’s kind of odd, isn’t it?” Summoning a wisp of strength, she propped herself up on her elbow to look at him. “I mean, to feel as if we’ve been together for a long time when we haven’t. You said that we had a whirlwind romance. I just met you New Year’s Eve and this is... What month is it, anyway?” She realized that she hadn’t a clue.

  Zane watched her expression as she spoke. She was so animated that he could see her feelings chasing one another across her face. It made him feel tired just to look at her.

  No, he amended, that wasn’t the only reason he felt
as if he’d been ridden hard and put away wet. Whitney had a little something to do with that. And with the way he felt in other respects. Guilt was never far out of the picture.

  “Beginning of June.”

  “June,” she repeated, as if saying the month out loud would help the information sink into her head. “Not even six months.” The smile curving her lips filtered through her body. Or was that the other way around? she mused. All she knew was that she felt hopelessly in love and very grateful for this exquisite feeling humming in her veins. “Not exactly a lifetime.”

  He didn’t want to talk about the lies he’d fed her. Hearing them repeated only racked rusty nails over his conscience.

  “It’s all relative.” Zane leaned over her. The weight of his upper body pressed against her, pinning her to the floor. “For a butterfly, that’s half a lifetime. For a fruit fly, we’re talking hundreds of generations. Maybe thousands.” He let his fingers slide along her cheek. God, he loved her. And he was going to pay for it. “I was never all that good in math.”

  She hooted at the admission, amused. “And you work with money?”

  He passed it off lightly, lifting a careless shoulder in acknowledgment. “I know how many zeros there are in a million.”

  Whitney’s eyes widened. She hadn’t really given the deal Zane was trying to solidify with Quinton that much thought in terms of dollars and cents, only in terms of inconvenience. Hearing what was involved sobered her for a moment.

  “Is that how much this deal is all about? A million dollars?”

  Actually, it was about three times that, but he had a feeling that saying so might have aroused her suspicions. He didn’t want any more questions that might trip him up. No more questions until it was over.

  He looked at a spot just above her head and nodded. “My commission on the houses sold if the development goes through.”

  She whistled softly. “No wonder you were eager to get Quinton to like you.”

  But Quinton and his money were miles away from their room as far as she was concerned. At least for now. She sighed as she shifted and felt Zane’s body move with hers. The crackle of electricity began all over again, slowly, seductively.