Thanks to the General’s briefcases, they knew who their enemies were, and Eric and Grace had plenty of financing to help them get lost in the crowd.
“What are you doing in here, anyway?” she asked.
“Making sure that Marcus isn’t identified. And while I’m at it, neither are we.”
Grace sipped her coffee and the robe pulled up on her arms, revealing the rope burns on her wrists.
Eric closed his eyes and pushed himself up from the desk. He pulled Grace into his arms. “I was afraid I’d lost you.” That fear wiped out every bad thing she’d ever done to him. Her disappearance, the drugs. None of it mattered now. He relished in the pleasure of holding her in his arms and mustered the courage to ask about the thing that had been nagging at him for days now. “Gracie, can I ask you a question?” he said, weaker than he’d expected.
“Sure,” she said, resting her cheek against his chest.
Could she tell his heart was on the verge of pounding its way out of his chest?
Stay focused. “What’d you do with it?” he asked, nervously anticipating what that answer might be. “The ring.”
Her delicate but genuine smile gave him comfort, but then she turned away and trotted out of the room.
Where’d she go? Did she leave because she was embarrassed to tell him what happened to the ring he’d given her? Had she hocked it? Traded it for drugs?
Eric’s heart dove south and when he tried to catch it, it was like it slipped through his fingers.
Before he had the chance to delve fully into self-pity, she returned, the smile on her face broader than when she’d departed. She held the little blue velvet box out in the palm of her hand.
Could it be? The promise of joy revived his shattered heart, and wounded his psyche all at the same time. But Eric wasn’t going down that road again. He forced the hurt aside, determined to move forward and not backward, he took the jewelry case and opened it up. That same solitary diamond that he’d given her all those years ago sparkled against the dark blue background and filled him with hope. A soft smile wedged his mouth open.
Eric slipped the ring from its pedestal and looked at Grace. With a hesitant pause he cleared his mind of all those negative thoughts that’d been residing there so happily for such a long time.
“I want you to put this back on,” he said. “But, if you do...don’t ever take it off again.”
She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to. She was still wearing the smile and for the first time in a long time Eric wasn’t worried. She offered him her hand, and he slid the ring onto her finger.
“I am going to take a shower.” She sauntered toward the door and looked enticingly over her shoulder. “Care to join me?”
Grace emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but the silk robe she’d snagged from Cherilyn’s closet. Eric was on the other side of the room, a towel wrapped around his waist, deciding between a pullover tee and a button-down shirt to go with his Levi’s draped along the edge of the bed.
“Are we going back to the hospital?” she asked, taking into account that every minute they stayed they were in danger of discovery. Yet, she couldn’t imagine abandoning Marcus.
“Yes, we are,” Eric said, snatching up the dressier shirt and sliding his arms into the sleeves. “When you get dressed, wear a long sleeved shirt.”
“Huh?” She didn’t get his suggestion at first, then she glanced down at her arms and saw the marks. He’s right. They didn’t need anybody questioning them about what had happened to her. “You’re right.”
“No matter what, we have to remain the tourists they think we are.” He strode to the dresser and stopped, checked his appearance in the mirror and turned back to her. “We can’t appear to be anything other than the concerned couple that found him yesterday.”
Grace sat on the edge of the bed. Oh, man. She needed to be an actress to pull this off. And Grace wasn’t an actress. But she’d learn real quick though, for Marcus’s sake. “What are we going to do? After Marcus gets better?” She tried to hide her anxiety but it escaped in her voice. “Where are we going to go?”
“I don’t know, Gracie,” he said. “But wherever we go, whatever we do... we’ll do it together.”
Well, at least they were on the same page—which was a miracle, considering. She’d made so many mistakes and he had suddenly forgiven her for all of them. Did she deserve such happiness?
“Why didn’t you tell me we were still married?” she asked.
Damn. Maybe she’d been a little premature with that happiness thing.
“I just assumed that you’d had the marriage annulled, after you left.” Mocking laughter rumbled up his throat. “See what happens when you assume?”
“Like I told you before, I didn’t leave to get away from you.” She struggled to get the words out. “And besides...how was I supposed to know you hadn’t had the marriage annulled either?”
He gave her one of those apologetic looks that said she had a point, but there was a certain afterglow that suggested he hadn’t yet jumped off the fence.
“Are you still angry with me?” Grace was tormented by a sudden inexplicable chill.
Eric looked at her, studying her face in silence. His head started moving slowly, disagreeing, just before he said, barely above a whisper, “No.”
She took a couple of steps toward him and stopped, fear and uncertainty marking her fragile disposition.
Gazing at her now, his whole outlook had changed. Eric couldn’t explain it or quite put his finger on it, but still, something inside him had shifted. During the last eleven years, he’d never once thought about Grace as his wife. She’d simply been the girl who ran out on him.
But now, in light of recent events and revelations, Grace was his wife and she always had been. Never mind that they’d been apart all this time. Now it just seemed like an obstacle, a circumstance that someone had deliberately put in their way. Through time, effort, and a fair amount of luck, they’d found their way back to each other.
Eric wasn’t going to look a gift-horse in the mouth. She was here and he was thankful.
“Grace, I put that ring back on your finger, didn’t I?” he asked, and she nodded. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want us to have kids. I want us to grow old together.” He laid his heart on the line for her. Could she do the same?
She moved a step or two closer. “I hear a but in there somewhere.”
“I feel compelled to tell you.” He hesitated, hoping she’d heed the warning. “If you run away again…even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to forgive you.”
Grace sucked in a shallow breath, and a smile as intimate as a kiss swept across her lips. She moved toward him, and with each slow seductive step her thin robe parted with teasing, beckoning behavior.
Eric’s levelheaded side fought with his carnal side. He wanted to be seduced by her. Wait a minute, his sensible side cried out. They were having a serious conversation. He wasn’t anybody’s fool. Was he going to let her use seduction as a distraction?
No. Definitely not. Well...maybe. Probably.
Grace stopped, inches short and pushed Eric into the armless chair behind him. Her robe stood open an inch or so and her naked body peeked out at him.
Eric looked her over. Damn, she was splendid. His desire to slide his hands under her robe exploded into full-blown lust.
She straddled him and the robe parted to her sides, revealing her tempting body. Resting her arms on his shoulders, she spoke softly, “I’ll spend every day, showing you that you’ve made the right decision.”
Temptation got the better of Eric, finally, and he slid his hands inside the robe. “You can start now,” he said, positioning her body to suit his own wants, needs, and pleasures.
But he couldn’t let them get carried away for long. There was plenty of time for carnal recreation later. Right now, they really needed Marcus to get well and he needed to do it quickly because the three of them needed to disappear—just
in case there were more of Cherilyn’s cohorts out there waiting to strike.
CHAPTER 42
MARCUS’S chest ached and his head was hazy, as if he was in some thick, dense fog. He struggled to open his eyes but his lids felt like they’d been glued together.
Where am I? And why the hell did it feel like somebody had set a massive boulder on his upper body?
Maybe there was something on his eyes. Perhaps he should rub them and find out? Using his fingertips, he massaged his eyelids.
“Welcome back,” the voice of an angel said to him.
Her serene voice somehow enabled him to finally open his eyes. The angelic voice had a face to match.
Her rich bronze skin glistened with excitement and her brown eyes brightened upon meeting his. She let out a soft sigh and a tentative smile curled on her lips.
His head still clouded, he tried to remember where he was. Who he was. “Where am I?” The words came out, but he was pretty sure he’d meant to contain them to just a mental inquiry.
“You’re at Brooklyn Hospital Center.” She wrapped her fingers around his wrist in a purely medicinal fashion. “Can you tell me your name?” she asked, looking at her watch.
What was she doing? Taking his pulse?
Yeah. The word breezed through his thoughts in response to her question. Of course he knew his name. He just needed a minute to think of it. “What happened to me?” He’d change the subject until he remembered.
“You were shot.” Compassion poured out in her voice. “Do you have any recollection at all about that?”
He might be on the verge of remembering something, but his wits told him he shouldn’t be talking about it if he did remember. “No,” he said. A hint of nerves hitched a ride on his answer.
“We suspect you may have been mugged,” she said, making notations on his chart.
“Mugged?” he questioned her statement and tried to locate some sort of solid recollection in his mind.
“You were found in a shopping mall parking lot, not far from here,” she said, reaching for her stethoscope.
“How long have I been here?” He wasn’t sure why but he judged the particulars important.
“Since yesterday.” She placed the cool metal of the stethoscope against his chest.
“Is this normal?” he asked, about the loss of his memory. “Not remembering who I am or what happened?”
She rested her hand over his and offered him a reassuring smile. Great bedside manner. He’d bet she’d entered more than one of her patients’ fantasies.
Man, get a grip. He quietly scolded himself for losing control of his senses.
“It’s not uncommon to suffer a temporary loss of memory after a traumatic occurrence.”
Temporary? He hoped that prognosis was correct.
“Typically, it doesn’t last more than a few days.” Her voice, more than her words, comforted him.
Instantly her bronze skin flushed with a soft crimson flow. She was embarrassed. What had she been thinking?
“Is, was, anybody with me?” he asked. Her face turned redder. A-ha. Now he could guess the thoughts that’d been roaming around in her head. Something along the lines of...It’s too bad that you’re going to wake up in a few days and realize that you’ve got a wife and kids waiting for you somewhere.
The notion of a wife and kids brought him nothing. No recollections. No familiarity. No hope.
“Well, a nice couple brought you in,” she said. “They stayed last night until you were out of surgery. I believe they have intentions of coming back today.”
She gave him one of those pitying smiles that said she was glad that somebody cared about him. He looked at his hand. His left one. No ring, not even the mark of one. Clearly there was no wife. If there ever had been, she was gone now, from not only his mind but his heart.
Eric and Grace made their way down the hospital corridor, holding hands. He played with her rings. He’d given her the eternity ring earlier that morning. They’d stopped at a shopping center to purchase a new wallet, to plant Marcus’s new identity in. Passing a jewelry store, Eric led Grace inside. It was high time he bought his wife a wedding band to go with her engagement ring.
Closing in on the nurses’ station on Marcus’s floor, Eric spied the young doctor they’d talked to yesterday and guided Grace toward her. “Good morning.”
Dr. Marcum turned toward them. “Mr. and Mrs. Cooper,” She greeted them with a professional smile.
Good thing he’d had the good sense to use the name of one of the identities the General had created for him on the sly—just in case. Eric was not convinced the danger had passed just because Cherilyn, Holloway, and their unidentified accomplice had been neutralized.
“We just wanted to drop by and see how he’s doing,” he said scrupulously polite and friendly. “Has there been any change?”
“Yes.” She nodded with a pleasant smile. “He has regained consciousness.”
“Splendid,” Eric said, trying to contain the bulk of his joy over hearing that Marcus was going to be okay. “May we see him?” he added, his tone calmer now.
“Of course.” She turned and motioned them to follow her down the corridor. “He doesn’t remember what happened. Nor does he know who he is,” she said, as they walked casually toward his room.
Grace gasped. “He’s going to be okay though...right?”
Hopefully this was just a ploy on Marcus’s part not to have to divulge any personal information.
“He’ll be fine,” the doctor said. “It’s probably just circumstance of being in the wrong place at the wrong time coupled with the trauma of being shot that’s caused a temporary loss of memory. I anticipate he’ll regain his memory soon.”
“That is excellent news.” Eric’s pleasure poured out in a smile.
They stopped in front of Marcus’s room and she paused briefly before issuing her warning. “Try not to tire him out with too much chatter. He needs his rest.”
“We wouldn’t dream of interfering with your recovery plans,” Eric said, and followed his words with a sort of snigger.
Dr. Marcum pushed the door open and Eric and Grace followed her inside the room.
Marcus’s gaze drifted toward the opening door, and the minute it fell upon the couple behind Dr. Marcum, his memories came flooding back like a giant wave. Definitely too much at once.
Relief painted Eric and Grace’s faces, but they masked it well. Only someone who knew them would see the worry hidden behind the facade.
Marcus didn’t really hear Dr. Marcum when she introduced him to his rescuers. He was still processing the excessive details, and trying to recall the precise events that had brought him to this place.
Then he slammed head-on into a Sherman tank. Cherilyn. He’d killed Cherilyn. No wonder his memories had elected desertion.
“Hello…” Eric’s greeting trailing off into careful consideration as he offered his hand to Marcus. “My wife and I just wanted to make sure that you’re okay.”
“Thank you.” Marcus shook his hand. “I’m fine. A little sore. A little forgetful. But fine.”
Marcus opted to keep up the charade of amnesia since the good doctor had introduced Eric and Grace as Doug and Katey Cooper. Knowing Eric, he’d already created a new identity for Marcus, too. All Marcus needed to do was wait until he could share that information in private.
“The police haven’t been able to uncover any information regarding what happened.” Eric’s tone was calm as he spoke to Marcus, but his eyes told a different tale. He wanted Marcus to get rid of the doctor. “If you don’t mind, I’ve taken the liberty of hiring a private investigations firm.”
Grace moved closer to Marcus and covered his hand with a gentle touch. “I’m so happy to see you alive and awake.” She hesitated, stifling her tears and mouthed the words, “thank you”.
“Hey doc,” Marcus called out. “Where’s that food you promised me?”
“Coming right up.” Once again, she graced him with
her beautiful smile and paused at the door, glimpsing toward Eric and Grace. “Remember what I said,” she told them with an allusive warning.
“Yes, ma’am.” Eric waved her off as she disappeared into the hallway. As soon as the door shut, his attention rocketed back to Marcus. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “I take it no one knows what happened at the warehouse?” That inquiry alone should tell them he was in full possession of his faculties.
“If they do,” Eric said as if it were a real possibility, but one he wasn’t worried about, “they don’t know we were there.” Eric paused, and there was something impishly wicked in his eyes. He was damn proud of himself. “The police are going to find a wallet that will enable them to identify you as a real estate magnate from California. You’re name is Julian Turner.”
“Julian?” Seriously. Julian?
“Tell you the truth, I didn’t care much for the name myself.” A witty smile accompanied Eric’s shrug. “So, I gave it to you.”
Marcus raised a determined finger at Eric. “I will get you for this.”
“Marcus,” Grace stepped in, playing referee, much as she had in the past. “Before she comes back—”
“Yeah,” Eric cut in. “She sure is over-protective of you. I think she likes you.”
If only. When Marcus had no memories, Dr. Angela Marcum had filled his thoughts. And now that his recall had made a full recovery, as strange as it may seem, she was still there overwhelming the biggest part of him.
“Marcus,” Grace said his name again, more determined this time. “I just wanted to say thank you. I know it wasn’t easy, but she would have killed me.”
“I know, Gracie…” Marcus closed his eyes long enough to ward off the sorrow threatening invasion. “I loved her. But not enough to let her hurt either of you.”
In some small way, it felt ironic to Marcus that he’d used the past tense term, loved—as in, not anymore.
It suddenly occurred to him that the moment he’d walked into the room at the warehouse and saw Cherilyn with the gun in her hand, that was the moment his love for her had started to diminish. And then, when she raised the gun toward Grace, every ounce of anything he’d ever felt for Cherilyn died instantly.
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