by Lisa Jackson
Her throat felt suddenly dry, and she took a long drink from the coffee. She had to quit thinking about him like that—to stop her mind from running away with these fantasies. She glanced at him over the rim of her cup and her stomach turned over. He stared at her with such intensity, such hot-blooded desire, that she forced her gaze away.
Nerves tight, she tackled the dessert, eating most of the sweet concoction, until, belly stretched, she shoved the cup aside. “That’s it. No more.”
“You sure? There’s more coffee—”
“No way. Go ahead.” Yawning, she stretched in her chair and noticed that his eyes slid to the V of her neckline.
“Nah. I, uh, think I’ll go clean up.”
He shoved himself away from the table and walked straight to the bathroom. He locked the door behind himself and wondered how in the hell he’d get through the next few days. Didn’t she know what she was doing to him? Didn’t she care? Or had she changed so much since the accident? He didn’t want to force himself upon her, not until she was ready, but damn, being this close to her, sleeping with her, for God’s sake, and trying to keep his hands off her was driving him up the wall.
You’re losing it, man.
Muttering under his breath, he turned on the shower spray. He kicked off his boots, yanked off his clothes and stepped under the ice-cold spray. Closing his eyes, he hoped the frigid water would temper his blood and take care of the erection that seemed to sprout every time he was alone with her.
The water stung. Sharp, cold needles against his skin. He leaned against the tiles and waited, forcing all thoughts of Nikki from his mind. He had other things to worry about. Tomorrow, first thing, he’d have to check with el Perro, just to make sure she wasn’t up to any funny stuff. At the thought of the disgusting little man, Trent scowled, wishing he never had to deal with the likes of the Dog.
Unfortunately it was all part of the game.
* * *
Nikki took advantage of her time alone in the room. She was still angry that he thought he could tell her what she could and couldn’t do. Well, he had another think coming. Trent wasn’t going to get the best of her. She might not remember her past, but she wasn’t some mindless wimp who didn’t know what was best for her! With one ear tuned to the running water, she dug through his jacket and pants pockets and came up with his wallet.
“Bingo,” she whispered, opening the leather with shaking fingers and a cat-who-ate-the-prized-canary smile. What would she do if she discovered he wasn’t Trent McKenzie, that he had several aliases, that he’d lied to her? Her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it through the closed door and above the shower’s spray. With clammy fingers, she opened the wallet and held her breath.
The Washington state driver’s license confirmed that his name was, indeed, Trent McKenzie, and that his address was the same as he’d listed on the hotel registration. His picture stared up at her, his harsh glare challenging her, and she felt like a thief. For a second she thought about returning the wallet, but she knew she might not get a second chance to discover more about him.
She told herself that going through his things was all part of investigative journalism, her job. Besides, if he truly was her husband, then he shouldn’t mind. Quickly, she flipped through the cards stuffed neatly in special slots: social security, American Express, MasterCard, Visa, Puget Sound Insurance and an oil company card issued to Trent McKenzie. There were no pictures in his wallet, no clues to the inner man, but he was carrying a few hundred dollars in cash and traveler’s checks worth nearly two thousand. She was about to flip the wallet closed when she checked one final recess. Her heart stopped beating as she read the permit to carry a concealed weapon.
Because he was a private investigator. She supposed she should feel comforted, but a knot of worry tightened in her guts and she bit her lip against the fear that shot like ice-cold bullets through her bloodstream.
The shower stopped and, with clumsy fingers, she hastily returned the wallet to his pocket. She slid between the covers, snapped off the light, settled her head on the pillow and again feigned sleep. The ruse of dozing wouldn’t work indefinitely, she knew, but until she was ready to suffer the consequences of making love to her “husband,” she was more than willing to sink to deception.
* * *
He left her alone the next morning. Exhausted, she’d fallen asleep sometime after midnight, despite his strong arm thrown around her waist and his warm, steady breath against her nape. Once in the middle of the night, she’d awakened and noticed that his hand had cupped her breast, as if he had every right to touch her anywhere he pleased.
She had shifted and the hand fell away, but it left her feeling empty and frustrated and wishing—oh, God, wishing—that she knew who she was.
He’d left a note on the nightstand, telling her that he’d be back before eleven and that she should order room service again.
“Not on your life,” she said, flinging off the covers. She had to work fast. After dressing and combing her hair in record time, she dialed the overseas operator and was able to connect with the United States and the offices of the Seattle Observer. With any luck, Connie would be working the early shift. Nikki crossed her fingers. Within minutes, a pert female voice, thousands of miles away, answered on the fifth ring. “Connie Benson.”
“Holding down the fort?” Nikki asked, her voice lowered though Trent wasn’t due back for a few hours.
“Who is this?”
“Nikki. Nikki Carrothers.”
“Are you kidding?” Connie said, her voice suddenly friendly. “I thought you were somewhere in the South Pacific.”
“The Caribbean,” Nikki corrected, trying to keep her voice steady. She took a deep breath. “On my honeymoon.”
“On your what?” Connie screeched. “Hey, who is this? Is this some kind of joke or what?”
“It’s no joke,” Nikki said, explaining the circumstances as best she could, though she didn’t admit to her amnesia. For now, she decided, the fewer people who knew about her loss of memory, the better.
“I don’t believe it! You. Married.” Connie chuckled, and Nikki saw the image of a red-blond, big-boned woman with freckles and laughing gold eyes. “Well, you know what they say—never say never.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know, after that Dave fiasco, you swore off men for good. So who’s the lucky guy and why didn’t I meet him?”
“You know him,” Nikki said, crossing her fingers. This was her first chance to catch Trent in a lie. “His name is Trent McKenzie and he works for—”
“The insurance company? Puget Sound Insurance?” Connie said on a long breath. “God, he’s gorgeous!”
“Then you remember him?”
“How could you forget a man like that?” she said. “And you married him?”
I wish I knew.
“Let me tell you, if I ever snag a man like that I’ll hire one of those sky pilots to write it in the sky over downtown Seattle and I’ll have the biggest wedding this town has ever seen just to show him off! Come on, Nikki, why didn’t you tell me?”
Nikki was ready for that one. “We wanted to surprise everyone.”
“Oh, God, how romantic!” Again a long, envious sigh. “Wait until I tell Peggy. She’s gonna flip. She’ll think you’ll want to give up your job, stay home and raise about fifty kids.”
“I don’t think so,” Nikki said, but grinned. It felt good to speak to someone she knew she could trust. “So you remember introducing him to me?”
“Of course I do. It was that claim I had a few months ago. He was checking it out. Came into the office to talk to me, and you were there.”
So far, so good. Trent’s story was holding up, but there was still something wrong, something out of sync. “How’s the job going?”
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“Same old grind,” Connie said. “It looks like there’s been some scam down at the docks. One of the union bosses has been skimming off of the dues and there’s a drug ring working out of Tacoma, but, of course, John and Max were given those assignments. I got to cover the arrival of Jana, that big-time fashion model from Europe, but other than that it’s the same old, same old. You know, school district stuff, city council news, nothing earth-shattering. As for your friend Crowley, he’s still up to his old tricks, but no one seems to be able to prove a thing. If you ask me, Max has dropped the ball on that one.”
A little spark of memory flared. “Crowley?” she said nonchalantly, though her heart was thundering. There was something about that name, something important.
“Yeah. You know, Peggy went to bat for you to cover the story, but it was the higher-ups. Frank Pianzani, he’s grooming Max for his job, so he put the thumbs-down on a woman covering the senator. Sometimes I think the women’s movement never made it through the doors of the Observer. Sure, we can talk it up all we want, and report it—God knows we’ll get all the information into the paper—but practice it? That’ll never happen. Not as long as Pianzani and some of his pals are in charge.”
Nervously, Nikki twisted the phone cord. “So tell me about Crowley.”
“The good senator has been keeping his nose clean and his face out of the paper for the past couple of weeks,” Connie said. “I’ve been too busy to pay much attention to him. Gotta get all the hot news on the school lunch menu, you know. Someone’s got to report if they’re serving hot dogs or jo-jos.” She laughed and Nikki smiled. “You know, my most interesting story since you’ve been gone is whether there’s too much fat in the food that the schools are serving.”
“It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it.”
Connie laughed.
“I think I’ll come back home and dig into the Crowley story again,” she said, hoping Connie would fill her in on the details.
“I’d expect it.”
“Just where did everything end?” Nikki persisted, her hands twining in the telephone cord. “What with getting married and all, I barely had time to think about it.”
“Like I said, he’s keeping a low profile. If he’s into anything shady, he’s hiding it well. Anyway, it’ll wait until you get back. Besides, you know we agreed we shouldn’t talk about it on the work lines.”
“Oh.” So this was big enough that they didn’t trust other people at the paper overhearing their conversations? What could it be? Try as she might, she couldn’t remember.
“You know, all this talk about the senator started about the time you met Trent.”
“I...I...know,” Nikki said, though she felt as if she’d been hit by a sledgehammer. Was there a connection between Trent and Senator Crowley and if so, what? What was going on?
“Look, I’ll talk to you when you get home. And if you want, I’ll nose around.”
“That would be great.”
“Consider it done!”
Nikki was more mystified than ever. Who the devil was Senator Crowley?
They talked for a couple of minutes longer, and Nikki explained that she’d be home in a few days. She didn’t have a lot of time before Trent showed up again, but she was still reticent to sever the connection to her friend and her past.
She hung up and sighed. So Trent hadn’t lied. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. One thing was for certain, she couldn’t give up trying to remember everything she could about her life before the accident, and the two items at the top of her list were Trent McKenzie and Senator Crowley.
Glancing at her watch, she decided she had time enough to talk to her mother. If she could get through. Her luck held and in a few minutes, her mother’s high-pitched voice echoed in her ear. Eloise seemed genuinely glad to hear from her. Though the background noise was loud, and more than once her mother had to cover the mouthpiece to shout at one of her teenaged sons, she seemed relieved to hear from her youngest daughter.
“Thank God you finally called,” she reprimanded gently. “Your father phoned. Told me about your accident, but didn’t know where you were staying. Then dropped the bomb that you’d gotten married to some stranger. Nikki, I just never thought you would do anything so rash. Now, Janet, that’s a different story. When she married Tim, I knew it was a mistake. I wouldn’t be surprised if she called me up from Reno or some other place like that and told me she’d gotten married again. But you...well, you were always the sensible one. You know I was awfully fond of Dave....”
“I know, Mom,” Nikki said, hating the deception. “But it didn’t work out.”
“And this Trevor, he’s—”
“Trent, Mom. Trent McKenzie.”
“I could’ve sworn your father told me his name was Trevor. That man, I tell you...” she grumbled, then let the rest of her thought die. “Look, just come down to L.A. as soon as you can. I’d love to meet him and so would Fred. He thinks of you girls as his own, you know.”
Fred’s affections, Nikki remembered, were anything but directed at his stepdaughters. And her mother knew it. Why she continually tried to deceive them all was beyond Nikki. Fred Sampas had never given any of Eloise’s daughters a second glance. “Extra baggage,” he’d once complained to a friend, and Carole, Nikki’s middle sister, had overheard the comment. “Tell Fred I said hello,” she said, hiding the sarcasm in her voice.
“I will, honey, but first you tell me all about your accident. Your father was sketchy but he said you’re all right. He wasn’t lying, was he? He wasn’t just trying to spare my feelings.”
“No, Mom, I’m okay. I’ve still got a few scrapes and a couple of bruises, but I’ll be fine in a day or two.” She filled in most of the details of her fall and recovery, and her mother, over the crackly long-distance wire, seemed satisfied.
“Thank the Lord you weren’t hurt any worse! You know, Nikki, I don’t know why you can’t slow down a little. Now that you’re married, you should take things easier, quit trying to prove yourself to that darned paper.”
“Is that what I do?”
“Well, you want them to treat you like a man, and you’re not one. I guess you know that now.”
“I just want to be treated equally.”
“There is no equal. Not in this world. Just like there’s nothing fair. You know that as well as I do.” Nikki didn’t bother arguing, but she realized that she wasn’t close to her mother and probably never had been. They talked for a few more minutes before Nikki’s half brothers commanded her mother’s attention and they had to disconnect.
Nikki fell back on the bed and tears burned at the corners of her eyes. Her mother and father had never been happy together, that much she knew, and the divorce had been, for them, a relief, but there had always been a bit of pain, and a little prick of guilt that Nikki had never dislodged. She was old enough to know that she hadn’t caused the deep, angry rift between her mother and father, and yet she’d felt real jealousy that Eloise seemed so content with Fred and her new sons. She let out a slow, shuddering breath. “Quit feeling sorry for yourself,” she chided.
This wasn’t the time to dwell on the sorrows of her past, so she pushed her painful memories—tiny as they were—of her mother aside and concentrated instead on the call with Connie. Their conversation had served to whet her appetite to know more, find out everything she could, and the most certain way of throwing off the dark shadows of her nightmare was to face her past and the accident. The first step was the mission.
* * *
“Let’s go!” Nikki, skirt bunched around her thighs, nudged her heels into the mare’s dappled flanks. The little gray darted forward, galloping up the rocky path leading to the mission. Short, dark legs lengthened stride and the mare’s ears flattened against her head. In the blur that was her vision, Nikki saw tall grass and wildflow
ers bend as the breeze over the ocean blew inland, carrying ominous clouds and oppressive heat. They rimmed the dark forest where, in her nightmares, she’d been chased in a life-and-death race for...what?
Nikki glanced at the gray sky nervously. Dressed in a skirt and a T-shirt, she wasn’t ready for a tropical storm. Besides, she had to work fast. Before Trent caught up with her.
Renting the horse hadn’t been easy. A driver of one of the horse-drawn carriages had told her of a man who had horses that could be leased for the day, but Nikki’s halting Spanish, her half-healed face and the desperation in her tone had made the owner cautious. Only after paying him extra did she wind up with the spunky little mare.
“Don’t worry about it,” she told herself. But she felt anxious, partly because of the storm brewing, partly because she was deceiving Trent again and partly because, ever since leaving the hotel, she’d had the uncanny feeling that she was being followed. “Oh, stop being a ninny!” It was just the smell of the storm and the fact that her nerves were strung tight as piano wire. Nothing else.
Ignoring the pain that was beginning to throb in her ankle, she ducked her head closer to the horse’s neck, smelling the scent of animal sweat and hearing the gray’s breathing as she struggled uphill.
“We’re almost there,” Nikki said, hoping to encourage the horse. The wind in her hair and the pounding of hoofs against the gravel-strewn path reminded her of another time, another ride deep in the closed recesses of her mind. She was sure she had ridden often; the leather reins felt right in her hands. Instinctively she moved with the mare, anticipating subtle changes in the horse’s gait, but she couldn’t remember a single instance when she’d ridden.
It’ll come, she told herself, frustrated that she couldn’t control the timing of her memories. As they rounded a curve, the mission came into view, the once-white walls crumbling and gray in ruin.
The path veered closer to the edge of the cliff.