by Rita Herron
His chest tightened. Megan might be trapped behind the blaze.
“You think she’s down there?” The fireman shoved an oxygen mask over Cole’s face.
Cole nodded, his heart in his throat.
“Then stay behind me.” The fireman suddenly jumped into motion, leading a path through the fiery blaze until they reached the file room door. He blasted the flames at the doorway with a fire extinguisher, and handed Cole an ax. Cole raised the ax and slammed it against the door, hacking at it over and over until finally the doorknob cracked and fell to the floor. His heart stopped as he shoved open the door.
Megan was lying on the floor unconscious.
MEGAN FELT AS IF SHE WAS floating. Floating on a lifeless sea of water. Drifting toward a bright light. A light that offered sanctity from the agony of her past. She lifted her hand and held it out, ready to take the path.
Lead the way, she tried to whisper. I’m too tired to go on. Too scared. Too alone.
“No, go back, Megan. It isn’t your time.”
The voice sounded familiar. Tom?
“I love you, Megan. I’m sorry for putting you through this. But you have to move on now. You have to go back.”
No.
The light began to fade, the voice fell silent. Darkness bathed the clouds. Obliterated the peaceful light. Swept her into its vortex. She was spinning. Spinning. Reaching out for something to hold onto. She tried to open her mouth to scream, but the whisper of another voice soothed her.
“Shh, you’re going to be all right now.”
Tom? No.
“I’m so glad you came back to me, Megan.”
The voice sounded strangled. Deep. Husky. Worried.
Cole.
She fought to open her eyes. Felt her eyelids flicker. A sliver of light broke through.
Her chest ached, though. Then she was coughing. Someone placed a mask over her mouth.
“Breathe in. Breathe out. You’ll be fine.”
A hand gripped hers. Strong. Steady. The whisper of a kiss tickled her hand. Took away the numbness.
She tried to smother the ache in her chest. Opened her eyes.
Then she saw him.
Covered in smoke and smut. Sitting beside her.
“God, Megan, I thought I’d lost you.”
Megan clung to his hand. She had almost died.
But Tom had been there. Saying goodbye. Telling her to move on.
She stared at Cole and tried to swallow, but a tear leaked out and rolled down her cheek.
Or had she just been dreaming about Tom because another man had come into her life?
COLE’S HEART CLENCHED. “You’re fine, Megan. You’re in the hospital. The doctors want you to stay overnight for observation.”
Megan frowned and tried to speak, but another coughing attack assaulted her.
“Shh, don’t talk. They’re treating you for smoke inhalation. Your throat’s probably going to hurt for a while. You need to lie back and rest. I talked to Detective Black and he’ll drop by the house to question you about the fire when you go home.”
A hint of a nod was her only reply. Then her eyelids lowered and she drifted to sleep. Cole pulled a chair up beside her and bowed his head, resting it on the bed, his hand still clinging to hers. He had no idea if he was a religious man but he murmured a silent prayer of thanks to the heavens. Then he closed his eyes and tried to block out the image of Megan lying unconscious on the floor.
And the realization that if they had been five minutes later, she would have died.
THE BOAT ROCKED BACK and forth. Back and forth. Water pounded the sides, The purr of the motor cut through the night. Thunder rumbled from the ominous sky. He docked the boat, tied the anchor.
Searched the shadows of Serpent’s Cove. A footstep sounded. Twigs snapped. A gunshot rang out.
It pierced his back and sent him spinning forward. Blood spurted from his mouth. He tasted bile. Saltwater. The tide rolled in. Sweeping him out. Waves crashed on the rocks. Soared over his head. Then darkness.
No, fire. An explosion. He had to escape the boat. Flames clawed at him. He lunged for the side. A gunshot fired. He raised his own weapon and fired back. The shadow of a man’s body fell over the side.
He was going to die. He had to get the disk. Save Megan. They would kill her to get to it. The car. He’d hidden it in the car.
No, he was on the shore. Someone was attacking him. Helicopters roared above. A fist connected with his face. Smashed his nose in. Pounded him again. Over and over. Blood spurted from his mouth. He tasted death.
He reached for the gun. Raised it and aimed. Saw the shadow again. He swayed. Dizzy. Spit out the blood. Lifted his arm. Fired.
And watched the man die.
COLE JERKED AWAKE, his stomach rolling as the images from his dreams bombarded his consciousness. The dreams had made no sense. They were jumbled. Mixed up.
They had to be.
Because if they were real, if they were memories, then he had killed someone in his former life. Had he killed Tom Wells, Megan’s husband? Or Clayton Fox, the detective Tom had gone to meet that night?
His phone rang. He jerked it up, his heart pounding.
“Hunter, it’s Detective Black.”
“Yes?” Had something happened to Megan?
“I found out something interesting about those three patients, Carson, Aiken and Fontaine.”
“What?”
“They were all three prison inmates. Seems they traded their volunteer services for a special research project for an early release.”
“And two of them died.”
“Sounds like reason for a cover-up to me.”
“What about Fontaine?” Cole asked. “Any word on him?”
“No, nothing yet.”
“What was he in prison for?”
Black cleared his throat. “Murder.”
Cole lost his breath. Fontaine had been a patient and was unaccounted for. And Cole had dreamed he was a murderer.
Could he possibly be Fontaine?
IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON the next day before the doctors released Megan. April had stopped by to visit on her way to work and so had Connie. But Cole insisted on driving her home. Megan was too exhausted to argue.
“Did anyone know you went down to the basement file room?” Cole asked as they stepped inside her house.
Megan hesitated in thought, then walked on into the den. “No. How did you know to look for me there?”
“I didn’t. Not at first anyway.” Cole rammed a hand through his hair. “I thought you’d gotten out when the fire drill started, so I helped the nurses evacuate the psych ward. When I got outside I couldn’t find you.” He paused, searching her face. Megan wondered if he could read the questions in her eyes. He continued anyway, as if he didn’t blame her for asking. “I found April. She said she thought you’d left. I was frantic, then I saw Connie. I asked her about another storage area for the files, and she told me about the basement file room.”
The scent of smoke still lingered on her skin. She had to shower it off, wash away the haunting memories of being trapped.
As if he read her mind, he slowly approached her. “Are you all right?”
She knotted her hands, willing herself to be strong. “Yes.”
“Did anyone follow you or see you go down there?” Cole asked in a low voice.
“No, not that I know of. Why?” She met his gaze. “You think someone started that fire to kill me?”
“Either that or to destroy the files you went searching for.”
“Oh, my God.” She struggled for composure. “Right before I went to the basement, I went to Tom’s office. I mean your office.”
“It’s all right, Megan,” Cole said with a small smile. “I know it’s hard for you to see me there.”
She nodded miserably. She was so confused. Yes, it was hard. But she was beginning to care for Cole anyway. Even if he turned out not to be Tom. But she shouldn’t…
“So, what ha
ppened in the office?”
“Connie was sorting through the file drawers, shredding files.”
“Shredding them?”
“Yes. I saw the names on the folders, Frank Carson, Jesse Aiken and Harry Fontaine. They were the same names I’d seen in some of Tom’s notes.”
Cole explained the detective’s findings, his stomach churning.
“Tom and some of the other doctors actually used prisoners for their projects?”
“It looks that way. Since we know at least two of them died, they probably wanted to cover it up.”
“Connie shredded her own file, too.”
“Why would she do that?”
“She claimed her ex-husband, who is a real bastard,” she added when he gave her a curious look, “was threatening to sue for custody of their little boy. She was afraid he’d use her background against her.”
“Was there something damaging in her file?”
“Not that I know of. She was afraid being a patient would hurt her.”
She thumbed another strand of hair from her face, wrinkling her nose at the brittle, smoky scent. “I guess I must have dropped the files when the fire broke out.”
Cole pressed a hand to his temple.
“Now, what are you thinking?” Megan asked.
“It seems awfully coincidental that Connie acted suspicious, shredding files without talking to me, then you go to look for those files and you wind up getting trapped in a fire that started in the basement.”
Megan read his silent message and shuddered.
He pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry. I know Connie’s your friend but—”
“But you think she may have tried to hurt me?”
“You said she wasn’t stable before?”
“Yes, but she was living with an abusive husband. She was fragile and insecure.” Her voice sounded weak. “Tom and I helped her escape that situation.”
Cole exhaled wearily. “Maybe she doesn’t have anything to do with it. It just seems suspicious.”
“I hate this,” Megan said. “I can’t stand not trusting my own friends.” Tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them away, pulling away from Cole as well. “I have to shower. I can’t stand the smell of this smoke on me any longer.”
Cole’s eyes darkened with concern. “Megan, I am sorry.”
She simply nodded, then turned and headed to her room.
COLE SLUMPED DOWN on the sofa, exhausted and worried. He didn’t like the fear in Megan’s eyes or the lines of exhaustion on her face. He liked even less the fact that she was still in danger.
He lay his head back, the dreams he’d had while he’d waited by her bed in the hospital flashing through his mind. A week ago his head had been an empty hole. Now, it was filled with snippets of voices and explosions and gunfire, so many conflicting incidents he couldn’t sort them all out. He had no idea which ones were real.
He mentally replayed the evening of the fire. He’d discussed hypnosis treatments with Ferguson, Megan had seen Connie shredding files, and gone to the file room… Was there more to this than the two patients’ deaths? What exactly was the nature of the project those prisoners had volunteered to be participate in?
Who was he? Hughes? That other prisoner?
Get the disk. They’ll kill Megan for it. The car. He’d hidden it in the car.
He jerked up, suddenly wondering if he’d just had a breakthrough. As soon as Megan showered, he’d ask her what she had done with Tom’s car.
IN THE SHOWER, EMOTIONS finally overcame Megan, and she gave into them, allowing the tears to fall. Finally she dried her eyes and body, stepped out and pulled on a robe. She simply couldn’t believe that Connie would hide something from her or hurt her. Cole hadn’t seen Connie when she and Tom first met her. She was quiet, depressed and lacked self-confidence. She had never stood up for herself before. Tom worked miracles with her to convince her to leave her husband.
But Connie had been really upset over Tom’s death. She’d guessed that Connie might have had a small crush on Tom, but had blown it off. Patients often fell for their therapist, it was a common pitfall and one most doctors recognized as such. But Tom had never treated her as anything but a patient.
Had he?
Megan frowned, remembering the lack of affection he had given her those last few months. She had wondered once or twice if his inattentiveness to her had resulted from an affair.
With Connie? Had the silver compact belonged to her?
A sick feeling slithered inside her at the thought.
No, Tom was an ethical man. He would never sleep with a patient.
But he had planned on meeting that detective’s friend. What was his name? Clayton Fox. So Tom had known something about the center that he’d planned to take to the police.
Either that or he’d been involved in something illegal.
Had he decided to tell Fox about some secret project? Did it involve those two patients’ deaths?
Exhausted from the questions, she decided to make some hot tea. Cole was waiting on her in the den, his expression troubled.
Her stomach did a funny dance when his dark eyes raked over her. She should have dressed. Her naked skin tingled at his perusal. Her nipples beaded to hard peaks, desire rippled through her, and an ache speared her from her head to her toes. She wanted him to hold her. To love her. To erase all this pain and worry.
He rolled his hands into fists, standing ramrod straight, but she saw the hunger in his eyes. He wanted her, too, but he was trying to resist. Trying to be the gentleman. Her protector.
Regardless of common sense, she was helpless to stop herself from moving closer. From inhaling his masculine scent and wishing he would fold those big, strong arms around her. From wanting him to forget about acting as her protector and be her lover.
“I remember something,” he said without preamble.
“What?” That he was Tom? That they were married and they should be together?
“I think there’s a backup disk that has something to do with Tom’s work. He hid it in his car.”
She clenched her hands around the belt of her robe. Had she just imagined the tension between them moments earlier? Had all the desire been on her part? Had she almost made a fool out of herself? “His car?”
“I had a dream, or maybe it was memories, anyway, there was something about a disk that has some important information on it. Where is Tom’s car?”
Megan had considered selling it, but she’d let Tom’s parents have it instead. “It’s at my in-laws’ house.”
“How far away is that?”
“On the other side of Savannah.”
“Will you call and ask them if we can come by and look inside?”
Megan hesitated. “What should I tell them? They don’t like me very much—”
“Just tell them you left something in the glove compartment. Maybe some important insurance papers or something.”
Megan nodded and picked up the phone. Her stomach knotted when Tom’s mother answered.
COLE HEARD THE DISTRESS in Megan’s voice as she spoke to her mother-in-law.
If he was Tom, the woman was his mother.
So why didn’t he feel the burning desire to see or talk to the woman himself? To inform her he was still alive?
Because she obviously wasn’t very nice to Megan?
Had Tom gotten along with his parents or had he detested them because they hadn’t accepted Megan? A family break might explain the reason he had no memories of his parents. The reason he hadn’t felt drawn to them at the funeral the way he had Megan.
She hung up the phone, agitation lining her already weary face. “She said we can come over in the morning.”
Impatience flared, but the strain on Megan’s face suggested the morning was soon enough. Tonight she needed to rest.
“Was Tom close to his parents?”
Megan shrugged. “They agreed most of the time. That is, on everything but me.”
“Why didn’
t they like you?” Not that it mattered to him what those people thought. He moved closer to her, breathing in her freshly showered scent. The strawberry fragrance of the body wash she liked to use in her bath. Her golden hair shimmered in the dim light and shadows of the room. His sex stirred.
“They were blue blood. I wasn’t. For some people that’s enough.”
“Tom obviously didn’t care.” He sure the hell didn’t.
Megan remained silent, emotions stirring in her eyes. He reached out and gently wiped a water droplet from her cheek. “But he had to have seen how beautiful you are.”
Megan swallowed and met his gaze. He’d detected the hunger and need earlier, but he’d forced himself not to act upon it. What if Megan was only seeking comfort? If he followed up on the chemistry between them, would she hate him later?
“He had to have seen how strong you are.”
“I…I don’t know.”
“He must have wanted you very much to have defied his family.”
“I wondered if he was just in a rebellious mood.”
“Oh, Megan.” The sight of her lying unconscious in that smoky room tore through him. The memory of her almost dying. Of almost losing her. “Don’t you see how utterly beautiful you are?”
His heart clenched. He wanted her with a fierceness that trapped the air in his lungs.
She released a shaky breath, her blue eyes searching his. The flicker of hunger lingered in their depths. No, he hadn’t imagined it earlier.
Heaven beckoned in the sultry promises in her eyes. His finger traced her lip in an erotic whisper that heightened his own desire. Passionate surrender resonated in her quick intake of breath as he lowered his mouth to kiss her.
She tasted like sweetness, like sugar and spice and all the naughty things a woman should taste like. Fear had driven him to her, but passion drove him to keep her. To take her and make her his.
Not Tom’s. This had nothing to do with Tom.