True Identity (The Lost and Found series Book 1)

by Amanda Mackey

When his head lolled forward onto my blood-soaked hand, I let my emotions back in, guilt and anger flooding my veins.

  Roaring out, I stepped back and aimed my rifle on the already dead man whose head had been blown apart and fired off numerous rounds into his chest.

  Feeling a hand on my arm and a voice that wasn’t Viper’s, I jerked around, suddenly not in the dank room of murder and carnage but sitting vertical in a bed with a stunning woman watching me, concern marring her features.

  “Harley? Hey. You had a nightmare. It’s okay. It’s over now.”

  “Angel…it wasn’t a dream.”

  “It wasn’t?”

  Shaking my head as I dragged in air, I spluttered, “I…I. Killed. A. Friend.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Harley

  Her face morphed into one of complete shock. I could have been looking for things that weren’t there, but I swore I noticed disappointment too.

  “You’re remembering your past?”

  Breaking eye contact, I dragged a hand over my left cheek. “I think I know what I did for a living.”

  She leaned in further. “Tell me.” Her sweet breath soothed my climbing heart rate.

  “I was in combat. Army, military. I’m not one hundred percent sure which one. I was in a war zone. My team and I were rescuing one of our men.” The memory returned full force of Reno’s haunted eyes seconds before he died. A look that would forever gut me. Sucking in air, I fought for control. The memories which had surfaced were not what I’d been hoping for. I’d rather not remember anything. The dream revealed the first snippets of my past and there were emotions attached. I’d lived it.

  A hand came to rest on top of mine. I searched her face for understanding or compassion and found instead, a piqued curiosity and a nod for me to continue.

  “A mission I led ended badly. One of my men, Reno, died while I stood and watched.” My heart squeezed tighter, catching my breath. My skin crawled with pinpricks of guilt.

  Droplets fell from my eyes, a foreign sensation because of my loss of memory or my ability to be able to deaden my emotions. I’m a soldier. A killer. As much as my recollections informed me of that, the me who lay in a hospital bed couldn’t grasp any of it. I didn’t feel like a warrior. I felt like a person lost, waiting to be found. Vulnerable.

  Mac dug into her purse and pulled out some tissues, handing them to me.

  “I think there’s more to it than that. You’re being too hard on yourself. I’m sure if you could have saved him you would have done everything possible.”

  Her words had more tears flowing. I didn’t feel like I was ever going to stop.

  “I’m sorry. I feel like a weak child.” The dam had burst, tapping into an unseen reservoir. The deluge hit me hard and fast. Had I been so invested in this guy Reno that his loss affected me so? Failure gripped me. I didn’t know how to deal with it.

  “Don’t apologize. This is the start of your past coming back to you. It’s great news. The rest will hopefully follow and you can get your life back.”

  Shaking my head, I blurted out, “I don’t want my life back. Not that one.”

  “It’s okay. You have a choice as to what you want to do with the information you remember, but there’s so much more than your job. What about family? Friends? A wife? Don’t you want to know?”

  Sinking back into the bed, I shut my eyes. I wanted to forget the memory. I didn’t like the way it made me feel. Nausea swirled like an angry river below my breast bone. I could sense the onset of panic beginning.

  “Is that all you remember? Or is there more?” Her voice pacified me.

  “No. Nothing else.”

  Glancing down and then back up to me, she nodded and changed the subject, suddenly edgy.

  “Well, I just popped in to say hi and see how you were doing. It’s time for me to head home.”

  The thought of being without her overnight while I fought with demons from my past had me all kinds of crazy.

  “Don’t go! Stay and eat with me. Please? Unless of course you need to get home to your boyfriend.” The mention of his name added to my sorry state. I wanted to meet the guy and see what sort of person could spend so much time working when he had a woman like Mac to go home to. If it were me…

  “Harley. I can’t have dinner here. Not only is the hospital food crappy, I’m tired, and really want to go home and have a bath.”

  She did look exhausted, but I wasn’t ready to give up yet.

  “Please, just a little longer. I need you to take my mind off the memory.” I reached out and touched her hand, the warmth of it taking me off guard. My eyes shot to hers, pleading.

  A frown marred her otherwise perfect features, “It could have been a dream, right? How do you know for certain you lived it?”

  She didn’t move to pull her hand away, and the slight contact had my heart rate slowing and my breathing evening out.

  “I just know. I recall the names of my team. Their faces. Voices. Every minute detail down to the smell of Reno’s blood.”

  Sighing, she glanced at our hands before refocusing on my eyes. “I said I would help you. When I leave here, I’ll start searching for your friend who was…” She swallowed heavily as if the next word lodged in her throat, “…killed. Do you know his civilian name?”

  Pain lanced through me again as I remembered Reno. His last moments. What must he have been thinking and feeling? Searching my mind, I couldn’t place anything else.

  “I…I don’t remember. I do know Viper’s name, though. Charlie. Charlie O’Donnell.”

  “I’ll start there.”

  “Thank you.”

  A staff member entered. “Mac? I didn’t expect to see you here. You visiting?” Her dark eyes turned toward me.

  Mac smiled at the woman, “Hey Dianne. Yes. I looked after him in ICU. Just checking up to see how he’s doing.”

  Dianne returned her smile. “That’s why you’re so popular. You genuinely care about your patients. Don’t forget, you need to have a life outside of this place too.”

  “I know. Nick’s always working though, so I figure I might as well be here doing what I do best.”

  Dianne shook her head on her way to the bed beside me, poking her head through the drawn curtain. “Would you like some dinner?” she asked my neighbor who I had yet to meet.

  A raspy voice returned with an, “Okay. Thanks.”

  Male. Definitely male. He seemed content in his cocoon. I wasn’t up to talking to strangers and making small talk, so it suited me fine.

  Giving my roommate his food, Dianne moved to the dinner trolley and turned to Mac. “You need a permanent bed here, girl.”

  Mac giggled and I felt it all the way to my toes.

  “You know it. It would be a hell of a lot cheaper than paying rent!”

  The middle-aged woman brought my dinner to me, drawing my bedside tray across my lap and placing the dish down.

  Dianne replied with a thoughtful expression, “That’s not a bad idea. Free food. Free roof over your head. Hell, I may just consider it.” She grinned and winked before heading out with her restaurant on wheels.

  After she left, I focused on Mac, feeling a twinge of guilt over my selfishness. “I’m sorry.”

  Surprised, she asked, “What for?”

  “Wanting you here. I’ve only been thinking of myself. I don’t mean to keep you from your life. It’s selfish of me.”

  As much as I wanted her to stay, I knew I couldn’t expect it.

  “I get it. You must be so scared. Waking up not knowing who you are, and then having a memory of life in a warzone. I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through, so don’t feel bad. It’s my job to care about my patients. I’ll stay until you finish dinner, but then I have to go. I’ve got to be back here at eight in the morning.”

  Seizing the opportunity to mention her barely there boyfriend, I wanted to return the offer of support. “If you want to discuss things not involving the hospital, I’m a good listene
r.”

  I hoped she could read between the lines. I’d opted for subtlety.

  She stared at me a moment. Not with malice, but with a look of caution. “I…uh…I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Fair enough, but the offer is there.”

  Turning to my food, I left the subject open. She could mull over the decision to open up to me.

  Pulling the silver lid off, the plate revealed a roast dinner. My stomach cheered in the form of a loud gurgle.

  Mac chuckled, the sound permeating my senses. “Your first proper meal, huh?”

  “Yep. I’m starved. Can’t remember the last time I ate…” Wow! The harsh truth caused my jaw to flex in frustration. Mac cleared her throat and changed the subject.

  “So, you’ll be allowed to leave in a few days. I’d like to offer you a place to stay until I can organize something with Nick.”

  Shocked at her proposal, I paused with the fork to my mouth and let my eyes pivot to hers. “Your place?” I must have been hearing things.

  “Of course, I haven’t asked my boyfriend yet, but I’m sure he’ll be okay with it once he learns of your situation.”

  I wasn’t so sure, but didn’t want to rock the boat. “I don’t want to impose.”

  “It’s no bother, truly. And where else would you go?”

  The truth? I had nowhere to go, not while I couldn’t remember where I lived.

  Puffing out a breath, I didn’t have a choice. “As soon as I can, I’ll leave, I promise. Thank you for the offer. It’s very kind of you.”

  “It’s settled then. We have a spare room. I’ll get it tidied up for you.”

  Shoveling a heap of meat and potatoes into my mouth, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to live under her roof. To see her outside of the hospital. In her own environment. With her boyfriend. That thought didn’t sit right in my chest. A niggle of jealousy swept over me. God. I had no right feeling anything like that. It would serve me well to set aside any blossoming emotions for Mac and focus on getting my full memory back. Distractions would only complicate things.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mac

  What had I done? My mouth had moved of its own accord. The idea of having Harley in my personal space wreaked havoc on my mind. He already had me feeling things I shouldn’t. Inviting him into my home had been stupid and whimsical, especially considering I hadn’t asked Nick. I’d been far too approving of his reaction when I’d told Harley that his moving in would be fine. Truth was, Nick would probably spit chips. I had no other choice. Tonight, if he got home at a reasonable hour, I’d broach the subject and attempt to make him see reason. I’d been going to ask him if a friend had a spare room, but somehow the idea of Harley living with someone other than myself while he recovered didn’t sit well.

  Keeping up my level of professionalism at the apartment would be a hard act. I would no longer be his nurse, but his housemate. Knowing his reaction to me, I’d need to be on guard and keep things strictly platonic. Friends. I could do that. Right?

  His eyes had portrayed a level of sadness when I left and I’d wanted to stay just so I didn’t have to witness that look in his eyes, but at the same time, I needed to get out of the damn hospital. To get some separation.

  On my way home I’d veered into a Subway outlet and ordered a healthy sub for dinner. Too tired to cook, I’d made it my go to place sometimes after work when I knew Nick wouldn’t be home.

  Imagine my surprise when I found his car in the garage as I pulled up to the apartment.

  So much so that I actually sat for a few minutes, pondering all the reasons why he’d come home. I figured I’d have another couple of hours on my own to soak in a tub and drown in a couple of glasses of wine before getting into a conversation about Harley.

  Nervously, I parked in the garage and made my way inside.

  Walking through to the kitchen, I placed my sub on the table, took a bottle of wine out of the fridge and grabbed a glass down from the cupboard. I needed a few sips to give me liquid courage. I knew he’d be in the bedroom on his laptop.

  “Nick?” I called out.

  Silence. Well, if he wasn’t answering me, he could wait.

  Popping the cork on the bottle, I poured a glass of red liquid and took a large gulp before sitting down and unwrapping my dinner. It smelled amazing. Probably because I hadn’t cooked it. Chowing down, I devoured it in no time, the hole in my stomach having been filled. Tossing the wrapper in the garbage bin, I headed down the hallway.

  Pushing open the bedroom door, I wasn’t too far off. Nick sat on the office chair, facing his computer, talking on his cell. “Yeah…okay. I understand, but this client is an important one. It could mean huge dividends. I’m working on it…I’ll stay up all night if I have to.…”

  Shaking my head, tamping down my disappointment, not needing to hear anymore, I shut the door, leaving him to it. Tonight I would sleep in the spare room so he could pull an all-nighter once again for his precious job. Telling him about Harley moving in would have to wait. A mammoth hot soak in the tub was my priority. I wondered if Nick even knew I’d come home.

  More and more, I began to understand how bad things really were. How had I not been bothered by it before? Perhaps because Harley had given me more attention in twenty-four hours than Nick had in six months. My friends were right. I did deserve better.

  Filling the tub, I stripped and climbed in, groaning as I sank deep, enjoying the effect of the hot water on my tired body. The sound also brought forth sordid images of Harley’s carved chest under my fingertips. Skin pulled so tight over layers of shredded muscle, I’d had a hard time focusing on work. If his memory served him correctly and he had been a soldier in the military, it would also stand to good reason that his job demanded he be in optimal shape.

  Angel. Did he really think of me as such? The endearment sparked an unaccustomed heat inside.

  Closing my eyes, I let my mind wander. Did Harley have a partner? Did they have children? The idea of him being spoken for disheartened me. It shouldn’t, considering I had a boyfriend. Kind of.

  What would it be like to have a man like Harley as a boyfriend? Would he be attentive? Caring? He set me off balance with his intensity. His eyes, when they drilled into me, opened me bare. He oozed masculinity. Raw with a dash of untamed. A piece of me craved more than routine and mediocre.

  “Mac?”

  Surprise had me snapping my eyes to the door. “Yes?”

  “Don’t worry about dinner for me. I’m waist deep in work. I’ll grab something later.”

  Yep. Bingo. My life.

  “Fine. I’ll sleep in the other room so you can focus.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  He padded off, leaving me pissed.

  Downing the remainder of the glass of wine, I rose and toweled off, strutting haughtily into the bedroom to grab my pajamas, watching the back of Nick’s head the whole time, wondering if he would turn as I purposely slammed the top drawer of the dresser shut. Nope. Not even a flinch. Damn, the man! Giving him the middle finger, I flounced out after getting the sudden urge to throw his computer monitor out the window.

  Eyeing my laptop on the coffee table in the living room, I made myself comfortable and began my search for Charlie O’Donnell. It was the only full name I had. Time to get started on helping Harley.

  There were quite a few hits on Google with several images appearing, so I clicked on each one, hoping for a lead. Most links led back to Facebook pages and a few to websites. Investigating further for any evidence of involvement in the defense force had me hitting brick walls time and time again. Nothing. Articles told of no one in the forces by the name of Charlie O’Donnell. Hope left me. If Harley and his crew were military, all the information would be classified and under the radar.

  Throwing my head back against the sofa, I took a couple of deep breaths. So much for that idea. The only other option? Wait and hope Harley got more memories back. That could take weeks. Months.
Maybe never. All the while, he’d be living under my roof, tempting me with his sultry eyes and lips made for kissing.

  Trouble had officially attached itself to me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mac

  The next few days flew by. When I wasn’t at work or visiting Harley, I scoured the internet for a hint at his true identity, coming up empty each time.

  On Friday morning, I had just stepped out of the ICU, housing my now-awake motorbike accident victim who did have ID. Blake Peterson. Aged 23. Resident of Ann Arbor. He’d miraculously survived the same way Harley had.

  Turning the corner to get a coffee while on my morning break, I plowed into concrete, causing me to stumble back and cuss.

  “Shit,” I groaned, more startled than hurt.

  “Angel. Slow down.”

  Not expecting the familiar moniker with its sultry drawl, I squeaked out, “Harley?”

  Finding his face, I almost fell back down when I witnessed a cheek smashing, teeth blinding smile that could rival the sun on a summer day.

  “That’s me.”

  He wore blue scrubs. “What are you doing?”

  “They’ve let me out. I came to find you to let you know. I’ll hang around until you finish.”

  “You’re wearing scrubs?” Even hospital attire complimented him.

  “My nurse dug these out. I don’t have clothes. Apparently my shirt had to be cut off in the ambulance.” He carried a bag. Seeing me eying it, he offered, “The jeans I wore when I got shot. They’re…ahh…dirty.”

  My eyes wandered to his feet, which were now covered in black boots. They looked comical against the hospital attire, but I hid my amusement. “Right. Well, it’s going to be a long day for you. I don’t finish until six. I’m on my way to get a coffee. You want one?”

  His eyes lit up. “Sure.”

  “Wait here. I’ll be right back. How do you take it?”

  He smirked and I felt my neck heat up with lewd thoughts. “Black. No sugar.”