True Identity (The Lost and Found series Book 1)

by Amanda Mackey

  Relieved, I lifted the sheets away and twisted my body in order to rise, but only made it a short distance. A large, calloused hand gripped my arm.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” his voice oozed out sleepily. Too damn sexy for my liking.

  Pivoting my torso, the sight of his sleep-filled, bedroom eyes had me take pause while my heart palpitated. I coughed to dissipate the breathless sensation, ashamed that I reveled in his touch so much.

  I…uh…coffee?” Could he see the nervousness clinging to me like a cobweb? His lips pursed, one corner lifting as if stifling a grin. He knew. Speaking of mess, my face and hair must have resembled a homeless person, so I pulled out of his grip and stood.

  “Black, no sugar.”

  “I remember.” Almost out the door, I stopped as he asked, “Mac?”

  “Hmm?” It took a moment to gain the courage to turn back around to face him. He had propped himself up on both elbows.

  “You said my name in your sleep.” This time his lips did extend into a disarming smile. All American white teeth, too perfect for their own good.

  Crap! Had I said his name? I searched his face for any sign of deceit but found none.

  Damn. I couldn’t remember what I’d been dreaming of. Obviously not Nick.

  “Uh, you must have been hearing things in your sleep.” I clutched at straws, desperate to escape his presence.

  Racing into the hall, I heard him laugh, followed by, “I wasn’t sleeping, Angel.”

  There wouldn’t be a repeat of last night. I would be sleeping in my own bed from now on. I didn’t need any further distraction from Harley or him cockily pointing out my faux pas while asleep. So I’d dreamt of him. It’s not like I could remember. That didn’t mean anything sexual. I could have been having a normal conversation with him. To a guy though, hearing a woman say their name in sleep was a huge ego boost, no matter how innocent it might be.

  Turning the coffee pot on, I listened as I heard the shower start, glad of the reprieve for a short while. I needed to focus on what needed to be done today, and that included our visit to the local police precinct. The sooner Harley got his memory back, the sooner both our lives could return to normal. Did I want that? I wasn’t so sure. What did I want? It wasn’t my life with Nick. Not anymore. I’d wised up. Or woken up. One of the two.

  Once the coffee brewed, I got comfortable on the couch with a bowl of cereal. The shower switched off and my wayward mind had a field day conjuring up images of a hot, wet, naked Harley stepping out onto the bathmat. His body was typical of a soldier—buffed with zero body fat. Nick’s clothing failed to disguise Harley’s sinewy physique. It merely acted as a safe buffer between us. Having a front row seat to his naked chest and almost naked groin earlier had only confirmed the fact. I remember how hard he’d been and the feel of his erection, weighty and primed, under my knee. The bastard had been awake the whole time.

  I’d never been with a man so ripped. He had an eight pack! Not that I’d been counting. “Penny for your thoughts.”

  I jumped in fright, almost spilling my coffee as it sloshed in the cup. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry. Hang five and I’ll grab a coffee then join you.”

  Seeing him fully clothed both pleased and irritated me. Having something to look at besides the back of Nick’s head when he worked in our bedroom had me wanting Harley to ditch clothes altogether. I’d never tell him, of course, but it was my wicked little fantasy.

  In reality, I’d need to get him something else to wear while we were out. I’m sure Harley wouldn’t want to keep wearing Nick’s stuff. It screamed weird seeing him strut around in my boyfriend’s clothing. Maybe ex-boyfriend.

  I had to ask myself the question as to whether I’d even want Nick back when Harley moved out. I didn’t want to go back to what we had. There would need to be some drastic changes for me to consider it. And even then, the grass was beginning to look greener on the other side.

  Quite simply, I craved more. More fire. More passion. More…everything. My dull and boring existence thus far had led me here.

  “So. What time did you want to head to the station?” Harley sat beside me on the couch, taking up way too much space.

  Shrugging, I offered, “I’ll finish breakfast and take a shower, and then we can leave.” Picking up my bowl from the coffee table, I held it up to him. “You want some?”

  His eyebrow lifted. “Some?”

  “Cereal?”

  “Oh. Nah. Coffee’s fine.”

  Suddenly things seemed awkward. Swallowing a chunk of oatmeal, I decided to grow a pair and broach the subject of sleeping arrangements.

  “Harley, about this morning…”

  He looked perplexed. “What do you mean?”

  Had he even realized I’d been wrapped around him in bed?

  “Ah, how long had you been awake before you grabbed my arm in bed?”

  Willing him not to say it, I cringed inside.

  Stifling a smile by placing his hand over his mouth, his eyes crinkled at the corners, giving him away. “You mean when you had your hands all over me and called out my name?”

  “Pfft. I did not have my hands all over you, and saying your name in my sleep meant nothing.”

  “Tell yourself that all you want, but at some stage during the night you needed a strong male body to snuggle into, and I’m guessing you knew it wasn’t Nick. I mean, come on! It’s not like the guy has time to work out or anything.”

  Wasn’t that the truth? Nick had an average build with little muscle to show. The hours he spent working hindered any chance of exercise.

  “Cocky?” I goaded.

  “Just telling it like it is.”

  He really enjoyed the banter and a part of me did too.

  “So. Did you like waking up to a real man?”

  Oh my God. He did not just say that. Talk about ego.

  Rising to my feet, I turned my back on him so he couldn’t see the flush I knew must be gracing my hot cheeks.

  “Finish your coffee. Grab a shower and we’ll head out.”

  ***

  At the precinct we were led to a small room off the reception area and were greeted by a Sergeant Michaels.

  “So, you’re the John Doe we found in the alley?”

  “Correct, sir.”

  “Glad you’re making a full recovery.” The middle-aged man, balding on top with weary blue eyes, smiled.

  “Physically, I’ll be fine. Mentally, well, I’m still trying to figure that out. It’s why we’re here. I’ve been getting snippets of memory back through my dreams.”

  “Oh? You sure they’re not just dreams?”

  I looked at Harley, who met my gaze at the same time. We had a silent moment. I’d said the same thing when he had his first dream at the hospital.

  Shifting in his seat, he said, “No. I’m definite they’re not. Everything seemed…familiar.”

  We’d explained to the officers on the phone about Harley’s amnesia, so they were up to speed. Whether they believed the whole amnesia thing or not, I couldn’t be sure.

  Pressing record on a portable device, the sergeant nodded to Harley. “Go on.”

  I remained silent as the dreams were retold. No one could conjure up anything so realistic, surely. They had to have come from the deep recesses of his mind.

  When he finished, we both sat eagerly, waiting for Sergeant Michaels to speak. “We can call some contacts we have tied up to the military and CIA. See if they can come up with anything. The trouble we might face is if you were Special Ops, there may be no record of your existence.”

  Come again?

  “What do you mean? How can there be no record? A birth certificate must exist somewhere.” My whiny voice sounded alien. I hated to think of Harley as a ghost.

  “Some segments of the CIA operate off the grid. Covert operations and such. They’re invisible for a reason. If what you told me is a memory, I’d bet my right leg you’re going to have all sorts of road blocks ge
tting information. We’ll do what we can from this end.”

  Harley cleared his throat and lifted one foot up onto his other leg. His nerves blended with my own. “So there’s no way to find out who someone is, if technically they don’t exist?”

  “Like I said, I’ll contact some men in the industry. Nothing’s guaranteed. Information isn’t handed out freely. If you keep remembering things, that’s gonna go a long way to solving the mystery. In the meantime, our sketch artist, Jared, will draw up an identikit and we’ll see if we can get it circulating.”

  Blowing out a long breath and rubbing the top of his head, Harley glanced over at me. He looked lost. Reaching over, I squeezed his upper arm in a gesture of comfort, feeling the rock solid muscle of his bicep.

  At least Sergeant Micheals took Harley’s word and agreed to investigate a little. We had no one else to help us.

  “What’s the best number to reach you on?” asked the sergeant.

  Cutting in, I said, “Mine. Harley doesn’t have a cell.”

  “Harley?” The cop’s eyebrows rose in question.

  “Ah, yeah. That’s the name I’ve given him. It’s better than John Doe.”

  Nodding and smiling, he jotted that down. “Fair enough. I’ll be in touch if we find out anything.” Holding out his hand to Harley, the men shook hands and then I followed suit. “If you sit tight, I’ll go grab Jared.” The sergeant stood and moved quietly out of the room, closing the door.

  I risked another peek at Harley. He cut an imposing figure. All hard lines and testosterone. He must have sensed me looking at him because he focused on me with his usual intensity.

  “I feel like we’ve wasted our time.” He huffed, squeezing his hands open and shut as they rested on the table.

  Needing to placate him and offer some hope, I clasped his hand. “This is the first step. It’s going to happen. We just need to be patient.”

  “Angel, I may not know much about myself, but I do know I’m not a patient man. Not when it comes to something like this.” He squeezed my fingers, showing no sign of letting go. He had a wicked grip. He only had me to cling onto. Someone real and willing to help. I’d be there for him as long as he needed me. In some ways I liked being needed. Apart from my nurse/patient relationships, I hadn’t experienced it in a long time.

  A stocky man with short mousy hair entered with a sketchpad and pencils. His roughened skin held a jagged scar, running from the edge of his jaw, down his neck, and under his collared police shirt. His light blue eyes looked jaded, as if they carried a burden no man should have to lug around.

  “Morning,” he cheered, failing to sound authentic.

  “Hi,” Harley and I both chorused together.

  He sat opposite us and placed the pad and pencils on the table before gathering our attention.

  “Okay. You ready to do this?” He gave Harley an encouraging half-smile, picking up a black pencil.

  Harley nodded once.

  “I need as much detail as you can give me. Hair, eye and skin color, facial features. Any significant abnormalities or extras we might need, such as tattoos, piercings, etcetera.”

  Sighing beside me, I still kept hold of Harley’s hand, watching his focus leave the room and return back to the night at the club.

  “The guy wasn’t American. Dark hair. Messy around his ears. Arab.”

  Jared paused, his eyes lifting from the pad. “You sound pretty sure.”

  “I’m sure. I don’t know how or why, but I’d bet my life on it.”

  A shiver chilled a path from my feet toward my heart. To hear him so definite about the nationality of the guy who could have been involved in Harley’s shooting had my brain a flurry of random thoughts. His dreams of being in the armed forces, and now connected with an Arabian man began to paint a picture in my head. One of danger.

  I barely heard Harley recounting more of the guy’s features as I wondered just how much trouble my new house guest attracted. Whatever he’d been involved in had brought itself to my town. Shit.

  ***

  Once outside, I waited for Harley to speak, not wanting to stir his emotions. His rigid gait posed a picture of a warrior. Or a soldier.

  He didn’t say a word until we were on the road, heading home. “I can’t fucking believe if I’ve been operating off the grid, I may never find the answers I seek. My best guess is they’ll catch the asshole who shot me first, and there’s no way in hell he’ll talk.” He hammered the heel of his hand half a dozen times onto his thigh. I couldn’t blame him.

  He’d never used the F-bomb before. Not that I minded too much. Soldiers would surely use that type of vocabulary every day.

  “I hope his contacts can lead us to someone who can help.”

  “I’m not liking my chances, Angel.” He white knuckled the seat in frustration. I couldn’t begin to imagine how he felt. How many other soldiers off the grid had suffered amnesia in the past? I’d say, not too many.

  Parking out front of my garage at the apartment, Harley led the way to the front door. He paused a few feet away, craning his neck at an odd angle as if attempting to listen to a hushed noise.

  While he did that, although odd, I put my key in the hole, twisting it, only to find it already unlocked. Strange. I’d secured it earlier. Had Nick returned?

  Before I could push open the door to find out, Harley gripped my wrist.

  “Stop.” He pulled me away from the door, and with a commanding tone I hadn’t heard before, he barked, “Stay here. Don’t move.”

  Okay. What the hell? Why had he ordered me to stay put? And why did he look like a bomb about to detonate? With no time to speak, he’d thrown open the door wide, striding in like he’d just switched into a different person. Darker. Confident. Bossy.

  My pulse kicked into high gear, a tendril of fear curling in my chest.

  Cussing ensued, the volume dwindling the further into the apartment Harley went. Alarm had me clutching my throat.

  If something had happened to my apartment, I needed to know. Ignoring his order to stay put, I stepped inside the open door, letting loose a strangled cry. “Oh my God!”

  The living room had been trashed. Pictures on the walls hung askew, one smashed on the carpet. The sofa had been overturned, cushions splayed in spots of the room like a dot to dot, as if they’d been strategically placed there to create a sick picture. My wild, horrified imagination threatening to send me into a tailspin.

  Harley stalked down the hallway toward me. “I thought I told you to stay outside?”

  Not answering his gruff chastisement, I held both hands to my face. “Why? Who would have done this?”

  Harley stopped in front of me, arms stiff at his side. “That boyfriend of yours angry enough to pull this off?”

  “Nick? No. He might have left in a huff, but he’d never do anything like this. Heaps of his stuff is still here.”

  It wasn’t Nick. I didn’t care what Harley thought. Whoever had done this had clearly been sending a message, or had been searching for something. Maybe they’d been scoping out the place, waiting for us to leave.

  I tried to think if I had any enemies besides a pissed off boyfriend. A disgruntled patient? That didn’t make sense. None of them knew where I lived. Records at the hospital were confidential.

  Strong arms wrapped around me and I fell. I fell into him, needing the support because my legs were about to give way. I’d been violated in a personal way.

  “I’m sorry I growled at you. I’m not sure where that came from, but my instinct was to find out if someone was still in the apartment and hurt them real bad.”

  His chest surged and fell. His arms tightened around me.

  “Military impulse?”

  “Maybe. All I know is, I had the urge to destroy. As if someone had taken over my body and mind. It felt instinctual.”

  “Little snippets are returning to you. It’s a good thing.” For him. I wasn’t so sure about me. Nick’s biggest outburst had been when he came home and foun
d Harley bare-chested in our living room. I hadn’t ever experienced intimidatingly uptight men thus far.

  Lifting my face up to meet his, I found him staring into space. Jaw set. Teeth grinding loud.

  Whispering, he answered, “What if it’s not?”

  ***

  The police arrived ten minutes later. We hadn’t touched a thing in case we tampered with evidence. The notion of someone entering my home, invading my privacy and touching my stuff cut me deeply and messed with my trust and sense of safety. What if they came back? What if they were watching us now?

  “So you have no idea who might have done this?” questioned the young officer, who had a female partner at his side.

  “No. I keep to myself. I work as a nurse, and when I’m not working, I’m here. It doesn’t make sense.”

  The female piped up, “What about you?” She jutted her chin out toward Harley.

  His eyes widened a fraction. “I…uh…I’m not sure.”

  Both officers looked at each other, then to me and back to Harley with sudden interest.

  He proceeded to explain his situation, realization suddenly dawning on me too as I recalled my scattered thoughts at the precinct earlier.

  Harley would have amassed enemies as a soldier. But being a ghost, how would anyone even be able to find him? If the police weren’t able to locate personal information about him, how would an enemy be able to? Unless of course that enemy had been the person to attack him in the first place and had been watching and waiting the whole time.

  God. My life was spiraling downwards with no end in sight. Suddenly I felt as if I’d jumped into an episode of a crime show. What the hell had I gotten into by bringing Harley home? Nick had been right all along. We didn’t know the guy. It would appear he came with a lot of baggage, and to what extreme, I didn’t know.

  “It may have been an unlucky, random event, but we’ll do a drive around the area and see if we notice anyone or anything suspicious. In the meantime, be alert, and if you discover anything at all, no matter how small, give us a call.” He handed Harley his card and walked through the apartment, eyeing the damage. “Anything missing?” he asked when he returned.