by Cassie Miles
“Who knows what’s going on in his head,” said the other voice. “We’re not dealing with an average person. He’s a legend.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard. Tall tales,” the Texan drawled. “They say he hid out for six weeks in a jungle before he completed his mission.”
Though the men were still talking, they were outside the cave. Jack could hear only bits and pieces of their conversation. Something about a “loner” and “killed a man.”
He didn’t remember surviving in a jungle. What kind of mission had he been on? Reaching into his memory was like sticking his hand into a grab bag. He didn’t know whether he’d pull out a gold medal or a piece of dung.
When he felt Caitlyn touch him, he rolled onto his back and looked up at her. He knew that she’d heard as much as he had. Therefore she’d have questions. Even if he’d known all the answers, Jack figured it wasn’t wise to go into details. Some memories were better left unsaid.
He sat up. She was close to him, kneeling on the rock beside his thigh. Her jaw was tight. In a barely audible whisper, she asked, “Are they gone?”
He nodded. “We’re safe. For now.”
Exhaling in a whoosh, she sat back on her heels. He had the sense that she’d been holding her breath the whole time the searcher had been in the cave below them. Still whispering, she asked, “What did they mean when they said you could call for backup?”
Damned if I know. Hoping he could defuse her curiosity, he grabbed the backpack, unzipped the flap and reached inside. “Energy bar?”
“I’m glad I packed these for you. I’m starving.” She tore off the wrapping. “Tell me about this backup.”
So much for distracting her. He peered into the backpack. There were two bars left. Like his bullets, their food would have to be rationed. He looked up at the sunlight slanting through the opening above them. “We’ve probably got three more hours of daylight before we can make our move.”
“Were those the federal marshals?”
He shrugged, hoping against hope that she’d drop the topic.
She took a bite of the energy bar and chewed. Her eyes were suspicious. “Are you going to tell me? Were those the feds or not?”
“I can’t say for certain.”
“Why not?” Her voice was sharp. “This is getting really annoying.”
“I’m not lying to you,” he said.
“Hard to believe, Jack. That one guy had a distinct accent. Did you hear his voice at the safe house or not?”
Evading her inquiries wouldn’t be easy. She was smart and determined. His glance bounced off the rocky walls of their hiding place. Spending the next couple of hours in this enclosed space with Caitlyn slinging questions every few seconds would make him crazy. Might as well tell her the truth and get it over with.
“I can’t remember,” he said.
“Can’t remember the names of the marshals? Or can’t—”
“I don’t remember much of anything.” He moved away from her, returning to his position against the cavern wall. He felt as if he was literally stuck between a rock and a hard place. “When I got hit on the head, a lot of memories fell out.”
“Seriously?” She scrambled around until she was beside him, facing him. Anger sparked in her eyes as she braced her hand against the wall beside his head and leaned in close for her interrogation. “Are you telling me that you have amnesia?”
“Something like that.”
“Oh, please. If you don’t want to tell me the truth, just say so. Don’t insult me by making up a ridiculous excuse.”
The irony irritated him. When she’d thought he was a handyman, she’d been more than willing to accept his lies. The truth was harder to swallow. “Believe what you want.”
“If you have amnesia, how did you remember Mark Santoro?”
“I watched him die on the street in Chicago. A hell of a vivid memory.” Through his shirt he felt the ragged edge of the scar on his belly. He’d been shot on that street. “I was never a soldier, but I understand chain of command. Mark Santoro was my captain. I was supposed to protect him, and I failed. That memory is never going to fade.”
“What about the safe house?” she asked. “You remembered being at the safe house.”
“I have a recollection of the place.” He might even be able to locate the house again. There was a shake shingle roof, a long porch, a red barn. He shook his head. “The only thing I know for certain is that I need to be at the trial on Tuesday.”
“Uh-huh.”
“True story.”
“This amnesia of yours,” she said, “it comes and goes. Is that right? You remember whenever it’s convenient?”
“I wish.” He glared back at her. “If I knew who to call for backup, I’d have been on the phone first thing. Playing hide-and-seek with Rojas isn’t my idea of fun.”
She backed off, but only a few inches. Her expression remained skeptical as she chomped on her energy bar. “Head injuries can cause all kinds of strange problems. I just don’t know whether to believe you.”
“I don’t give a damn if you trust me or not. There’s only one thing that’s important—for us to get out of this mess in one piece.”
“Why did you tell me about the amnesia?”
“Because you’re a pain in the butt.” He held her by the shoulders and confronted her directly. “I don’t want to spend the next couple of hours being interrogated.”
She shoved at his chest. “Get your hands off me.”
“Gladly.”
He moved around her and picked up the tool belt. There were screwdrivers, a file and a rasp. “I don’t suppose there’s a knife in this belt. Or a nail gun.”
Her voice was quiet but still persistent. “You told me about the wise old man in the desert who taught you about awareness. A memory?”
“I remember him. He trained me, but I don’t know why.” Without looking at her, he continued, “I’m aware of speaking Spanish, but don’t know how I learned the language. I have skills. Seems like I’m a pretty good marksman.”
“I’ll say. Back at my cabin you made every bullet count.”
Though he was pleased that she’d noticed his ability, he didn’t let down his guard. “I don’t know how I learned to handle a gun. I have no memory of being trained.”
“When you said—”
“That’s it, Caitlyn. I’m done talking.”
His ability to remember was far less important than their immediate problem. They needed to get as far away from Rojas as possible. And they needed to move fast.
NO MATTER HOW CAITLYN shifted around, she couldn’t get comfortable. When she leaned against the wall of the cavern, her backbone rubbed painfully on the hard surface. Her butt was sore and cold from sitting on the damp rocks beside the water. With her knees pulled up, she wrapped her arms around her legs and watched Jack as he sorted through the various implements on her tool belt.
Who was this man? Reluctantly she decided to accept his explanation that he suffered from some form of amnesia. His head injury provided validation for that claim, and she was well aware of the unpredictability of trauma to the brain.
Okay, then. Amnesia.
The only identity that made sense was Tony Perez, member of the Santoro crime family who supposedly died on the streets of Chicago. As Perez, he’d be a witness—a protected witness—whose testimony could convict the elder Rojas brother.
But the searcher who poked around in the lower cave had mentioned a few things that didn’t fit. Why would Tony Perez be able to call for backup? And what kind of jungle mission would he have been undertaking? She wished that she’d had more time on her computer to research his background.
Though Jack had made it very clear that he didn’t want to answer questions, she wasn’t the kind of passive woman who could simply sit back and take orders. She cleared her throat before speaking. “It seems to me that it might be extremely useful to know who you might call for backup.”
He grunted in response.
“If you gave me a chance, I might be able to jog your memory. Maybe we could start with the last thing you remember and work backward.”
He flipped a Phillips screwdriver in his hand and gripped the handle as if using it to stab. He stared at the tip and frowned. “I know you’d like a simple solution. So would I. But amnesia isn’t like misplacing my keys or forgetting where I parked my car. There are empty spaces inside my head.”
She didn’t want to give up. “We could try. It wouldn’t hurt.”
“What if I don’t like what I remember?” He flipped the screwdriver again. His hands were quick, his coordination excellent. “It might turn out that those blank spots are filled with nasty secrets.”
“Are you saying that you’d rather not know?”
“I don’t mind being Jack Dalton, a man with no past.”
She understood that while he was working for Mark Santoro he might have done things he’d rather forget. But to throw away his entire history? “You’re not a bad person. You have a conscience. You agreed to come forward and testify.”
“I want Rojas to pay for the murder of Mark Santoro,” he said.
“That’s a starting place,” she said, encouraging him to continue. “What else do you want?”
“To get you to safety.”
He focused on her. In the dim light of the cavern, his features weren’t clear. She felt rather than saw the heat emanating from him. He smoldered, and she felt herself melting. On a purely visceral level, it didn’t matter where he came from or who he was. She knew, without doubt, that he was dedicated to rescuing her. Still, she persisted. “Your memories could help us. There might be someone you could call.”
“Someone from the Santoro family?” The corner of his mouth lifted in a wry grin. “That might not be good news for you.”
Probably not. The notorious crime family from Chicago wouldn’t welcome a reporter into their midst. “Better them than Rojas.”
“Leave my past alone, Caitlyn.”
He returned his attention to the tool belt. She watched him as he evaluated each implement. In his hands, a paint scraper became a tool for slashing. The hammer was an obvious weapon, as was the crowbar. After discarding wrenches and small screwdrivers, he took the belt apart and reassembled it as a sort of holster.
She couldn’t help asking another question. “Have you done this before?”
“Not that I remember. I seem to be good at improvising, using whatever comes to hand.”
“Maybe you’re MacGyver.”
“Anything can be used as a weapon. A belt buckle or a shoelace. A mirror. A rock. It’s all about intent.”
“And what are your intentions?”
“To be prepared in case we’re attacked. Frankly, I’m hoping I won’t need a weapon. We’ll get to your car and drive to a safe place where I can turn myself in to the authorities. How far are we from Denver?”
“About an hour. If we were going cross-country, we’d actually be closer to Colorado Springs.”
He looked up at the sunlight that spilled through the opening in the rocks. “We still have a couple of hours before we can move. Might be smart to catch some shut-eye.”
During the time she’d spent embedded with the troops, she’d learned to nap in difficult surroundings. She agreed that it was wise to be rested before they took on the final leg of their escape. “I don’t think I can sleep.”
Jack settled himself against the cavern wall and beckoned to her. “Lean against me. You’ll be more comfortable.”
Or not. Whenever she got close to him, her survival instincts were replaced by a surge of pure lust. Why did she have this crazy attraction to him? Sure, he was handsome, with that thick black hair and steamy green eyes. Definitely a manly man, he was her type. But she’d been around plenty of macho guys when she was with the troops. None of them affected her the way Jack did.
He noticed her hesitation. Again, he treated her to that sexy, wry grin. “Scared?”
“Of you?” Was her voice squeaking? “No way.”
“Then come here. Use me for a pillow.”
Pillows were soft and cuddly. Snuggling up against Jack’s muscular body wouldn’t be the least bit relaxing. She needed a different plan.
Reaching into her pocket, she took out her cell phone. “We could call the authorities in Denver right now.”
“You know that phones can be tracked with a GPS signal.”
“You said that before. I get it. But this is a secure phone. It was issued to me by my former employer. It’s safe.”
“Are you clear on that point?”
“Crystal.”
He closed his eyes. “We wait until dark.”
Chapter Nine
Jack always slept with one eye open. That wasn’t a memory but a fact. Being a light sleeper was as indelible as being right-handed.
He leaned against the wall of the cavern. His body slipped into a state of relaxation, allowing his energy to replenish, but part of his mind stayed alert. Even when he was a kid, he knew it was important to be on guard so he would hear the staggering footsteps in the hallway outside the bedroom. His eyes were attuned to deal with the flash of light when that bedroom door crashed open. He knew the smell of the man who meant to hurt him—sweat and whiskey and hate.
Danger was ever present. Survival depended on being ready for the inevitable slap across the face or belt lashing. Or Rojas.
While sleeping, he remained aware of Caitlyn’s movements. She tried curling up by herself at the edge of the water. Then she got another energy bar from the backpack. She stood and paced two steps in one direction then the other, like an animal in a cage that was too small. Finally, she settled beside him. Her head rested on his chest, and her slender body curved against him.
He pulled her close. The way she fit into his embrace gave him a sense of warmth and comfort that went beyond the sensual pleasure of holding a beautiful woman. Physically, they were well matched. And there was a deeper connection. Her unflagging curiosity drove him nuts, but he appreciated her intelligence, her wit and her stamina. When he’d given her the clear directive to run, she hadn’t complained. Caitlyn wasn’t a whiner. She’d been affected by her memories of war but hadn’t been broken.
He’d been with other women, many others. One had been special, cherished and adored. He had loved before. Part of him longed to see his lover’s face again and to hear her soft, sweet voice. But that was not to be. Without remembering the specifics, he knew his love was gone. Forever.
When Caitlyn moved away from him, he felt the empty space where her head should have been resting. His eyelids opened to slits. The sunlight filtering into the cavern had dimmed to grayish dusk.
He watched as Caitlyn climbed toward the ledge leading out of the cavern. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll get better reception here. I need to call Heather at the Circle L Ranch and tell her where the horses are tethered.”
“It’s best if no one else gets involved. Don’t tell her anything else.”
“I understand.” After she made the call, she looked down at her phone.
“I have a message from Danny. It came through about twenty minutes ago.”
He stretched and yawned. The brief sleep had refreshed him enough to continue with his simple plan to get her car and drive to safety. He was aware of potential obstacles, especially since the federal marshals were involved. It might be useful to hear from the local deputy. “Go ahead and play back the message.”
As she held the phone to her ear and listened, he watched her posture grow tense and angry. “You need to hear this.”
She played back the message on speaker. Danny’s voice was low. “Hey, Caitlyn. I found the owners of the gray mare. I thought I remembered seeing that horse.”
Danny had stumbled across the safe house. Bad news.
The deputy continued, “The owner wants to thank you and maybe give you a reward. Let me tell you where the house is.”
He gave directions, st
arting with “It’s not far from where that Arapaho Indian guy lived. I think his name was Red Fire. Yeah, that’s it. Red Fire. Turn off the main road at Clover Creek.”
After he outlined a couple more twists and turns, he ended the call by saying, “I’ll wait here until you arrive. Hurry.”
Jack rose and crossed the cavern to stand beside her. Dusky light slid across her stricken face. She whispered, “Danny was warning me. When we were growing up, ‘Red Fire’ was our code for trouble.”
“Even though he made the call, he was telling you to stay away.”
“Rojas has him.” Her voice quavered. “We can’t leave him with that bastard.”
The deputy’s probability for survival was slim. Neither Rojas nor the feds could afford to release a lawman who would testify against them. Jack knew that the smart move was to drive away and try not to think about what was happening to Caitlyn’s friend. It was more important for him to get to that trial and testify.
But Jack wasn’t made that way. He couldn’t leave someone else to die in his place. “Give me the phone.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to save your friend.”
He hit the callback button and waited. With each ring, Jack’s hopes sank lower. Danny could already be dead.
The voice that finally answered was unfamiliar. “I’m expecting you.”
“I’ll be there.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Jack knew that he’d done hostage negotiations before. The first step was to give the hostage takers what they wanted. Then demand proof of life. “I need to speak with Danny.”
“He’s tied up.” The cryptic comment was followed by cold laughter. “All tied up.”
“If I don’t talk to him, you won’t see me again. Not until we meet in court.”
“Hold on.” There were sounds of shuffling and a couple of thuds. Then Danny came on the phone. “It’s me. Danny Laurence.”
Jack asked, “Have you been harmed?”
“Where’s Caitlyn?”
She spoke up. “I’m here, Danny. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “The only way we’re going to get through this is to do what they say.”