Maximum Memories

by Abby Gordon

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Praise for Abby Gordon

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  A word about the author...

  Other Books You Might Like

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Maximum Memories

  by

  Abby Gordon

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Maximum Memories

  COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Abby Gordon

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Angela Anderson

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Crimson Rose Edition, 2014

  Print ISBN 978-1-62830-081-9

  Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-082-6

  Published in the United States of America

  Praise for Abby Gordon

  TO SEDUCE AND SATISFY

  “If you like an enjoyable erotic romance, get your hands on To Seduce and Satisfy and enjoy the ride. There is a lot of heart within the story. I have to add that I also found a couple of supporting characters very intriguing and hope to see their story in the future.”

  ~Manicreaders.com

  ~*~

  MODEL FANTASY

  “Fantasy driven, naughty, and full of fireworks—that’s MODEL FANTASY. Ladies, get out the asbestos gloves to handle this book...it’s so hot! If you like BDSM stories, I think you’ll love this great little story. A hot and spicy read to warm the cold winter nights! I’m looking forward to reading more by this author.”

  ~Barb from Romance Reviews

  ~*~

  BECK AND CALL

  ~rated Top Ten for 2010~

  “What a fantastic ride from page 1 until the very end. Sassy sex, a hot boss, BDSM, bad guys, friends, a mystery man…YEAH BABY! Ms. Gordon has penned a story worthy of awards! I was so pulled in that the real world just melted away and the story was my ONLY focus for the duration.”

  ~Seriously Reviewed

  Dedication

  For Mom, Aunt Kay and Aunt Suz

  —inspiration and love in so many ways—

  thank you.

  Chapter One

  A flurry of punches kept the speed bag bouncing on the brace. Max Shannon’s focus never wavered, never left the small black dot that was only half an inch wide and high. The sides of his fists hit that spot every time. His arms burned and sweat was dripping down his face. He’d been in the gym for two hours and would be hitting the sparring mats next. His stopwatch beeped and he grabbed the strap around his wrists with his teeth. As he tucked his gloves in his bag, his cell phone beeped.

  “Shannon,” he grunted shortly.

  “My office. Thirty minutes. Bring your bag.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Max glanced at the duffle bag. From the first minute on the first day of training, every wannabe agent had it drilled into his or her head to keep their bag within three body lengths. The bag was never left in a public area. The bag was never left unattended. Even if an agent was in Agency Headquarters, the bag was kept nearby. For the Deputy Director of Operations to tell an agent with over twenty years’ experience—a team leader no less—to bring their bag spoke volumes.

  Max wasn’t sure he wanted to read that particular book though. Frank St. Clair never said anything that wasn’t necessary, which made his last words ominous. And his tone? Last time Frank had taken that tone had been not quite a year ago. Max had damn near lost Mark and Nia as he’d lead a team after drug smugglers. Grim-faced, he picked up his bag and headed toward the locker room.

  “Walker!” he hollered as he passed the row of treadmills. “I got a call.”

  “Roger that,” the other agent nodded. “Let me know when you’re ready for me to give your ass a beatdown.”

  Max ignored the chuckles from the six agents nearby and flipped Walker off.

  “You wish.”

  After a quick shower, Max dressed in his suit, slipping the shoulder holster on, and started walking to Frank’s office. Twenty-eight minutes after the call, he knocked on the heavy mahogany door.

  “Enter!” came the rasp. A bullet through the throat had nearly rendered Frank permanently speechless not quite twenty-five years ago. That it hadn’t, nor had it killed him, had instantly made Frank a legend throughout the government’s covert branches. Fairly reliable rumors said it was because of a female agent, giving Frank a reason to dislike female agents that bordered on hostile. He didn’t mind them working in the business, just not in operations. “Shannon, have a seat.”

  Silently, Max closed the door behind him, then put the bag on the chair to the left of the door. Knowing the drill, he moved across the room to sit opposite the desk. He knew better than to speak first. The large man closed the file he’d been reading and rested his interlocked fingers on the surface.

  Frank St. Clair lifted his head and Max met his forbidding gaze.

  “Your old enemy has resurfaced,” Frank told him bluntly.

  “What?” Max froze. There was only one person Frank could be referring to. A homegrown terrorist Max had hunted for five years until he’d lost him during the disastrous mission that had nearly cost Max his life. But as far as Max knew, the man had been quiet for a couple years. There’d been serious talk in the agency that Polaris was dead. Apparently that had been a vain hope.

  Frank nodded, seeing that he now had Max’s complete and undivided attention.

  “Polaris is now the lead suspect in smuggling arms and training subversives in the Appalachians.”

  “Shit,” was Max’s response. “Polaris is one tough asshole.”

  “Basically,” nodded Frank. “And apparently, he doesn’t like the idea of your old team coming after him again.” The tone of voice hinted of ominous news. Max looked at him and felt a chill in his blood. “In the past twenty-four hours, he’s killed George and Sam. I’ve called in Al and Mark. You need to get Ginny, bring her in, and get her up to speed. I want the four of you to go over every bit of information we’ve got.”

  Max stared at his supervisor, unable to speak for a moment.

  The man had lost his mind. Or maybe the Deputy Director of Internal Covert Operations was joking. That or maybe Max hadn’t heard him correctly.

  Frank’s icy blue eyes seemed relatively sane. Sane being a relative term in the world they inhabited. The expression on Frank’s face was its usual somber, there’s-no-joy-in-the world grimness. No one who had worked at the Agency for all of Max’s nearly twenty years had ever seen Frank even crack a smile.

  Okay, Max thought. That left only one possibility.

  Max hadn’t heard him correctly.

  “Excuse me, sir? Bring Ginny in?” Max sh
ook his head and took a deep breath. He had to keep it professional, no emotions. No personal bullshit. Ginny had gotten through every wall he’d erected as an agent and then disappeared from his life. Her willingness to tackle any task he’d set, plus her determination to prove to the men on the team that she could hold her own during the mission. He remembered her fierce expression on the shooting range or during hand-to-hand combat training. The shy glances as the weeks went on, and that last night when he’d broken several agency and personal rules. “Frank, I haven’t seen her in ten years. I don’t even know if she’s still with the Agency or…”

  “According to my counterpart, Ginny Erickson is one of the best analysts in the business,” came the gravelly voice. “She’s on leave at her home.”

  Max knew it didn’t follow protocol, but he couldn’t sit still. He rose and started pacing. He paused and stared out the window. He had to focus on the mission, not emotions. Two team members down. Killed by an asshole hell-bent on destroying the country they were trying to protect. Max’s determination to bring down Polaris would have been as fierce as it would be toward any home-grown threat. But now it was personal. Two men on his old team had been killed. He turned and gave the Deputy Director a hard look.

  “George and Sam each had nearly twenty years’ experience. Polaris must have worked like a bitch even to get close to them. How did it happen? Were they out on a mission? Together? With other agents?”

  Frank looked distinctly uncomfortable. A rare enough occurrence for Max’s antenna to twitch to high alert.

  “They were on special assignments. I wasn’t given details.”

  That flummoxed Max. Two agents had been killed and no one would tell the DDO the details?

  “Why don’t you call Ginny yourself and tell her?” he asked Frank.

  Frank looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

  “She’s not an active agent, Max. She’s an analyst. Hell, I doubt if she has a clue about anything, despite Vince’s bragging. Analysis has had this information for nearly two weeks and haven’t said anything to me about it,” Frank snorted. “And I have to send you. She doesn’t have a secure land line. You don’t think this is slightly classified?”

  Max grimaced. Yeah, Polaris becoming active again would definitely be classified. Highly and restrictively so. Max was willing to bet the portfolio his younger brother managed for him that maybe a dozen people knew everything about Polaris. Six had been on his original team. Two of them were now dead. Two men he had gone on several missions with and fought side by side with had been killed.

  Rage surged through Max. His men had been killed by a madman bent on overturning the government and determined to do or use any means to accomplish that aim.

  Max didn’t need to be told that the three remaining team members would be Polaris’ next targets. Al and Mark were active agents. Max had worked with them frequently over the past decade. The fact that Ginny wasn’t an active agent wouldn’t matter to a cold-hearted bastard like Polaris. Clamping down on his anger, he strode back to the desk and took his seat. Grimacing, he opened the folder to read what Ginny Erickson had been doing the last ten years.

  He glanced at the few lines and frowned when he didn’t see an emergency contact. Normally that was where a spouse was listed. Something inside him tilted. Ginny wasn’t married. His eyes went to the picture dated just last month. There was a maturity there, understandable after ten years. The same focus and determination were there. Seeing the woman she’d become somehow ripped at him. He didn’t understand why. He wasn’t sure how to react.

  She’d gone on with her life as if they’d never met, after she’d ignored his injuries. His brain went black as searing pain lanced through it. After ten years, he’d learned to pay attention to that pain. That pain meant a memory was trying to return.

  Mention of Ginny seemed to be triggering the event. Max took a deep breath. He had to move carefully. Slowly. And not just because of the pain. Some people said confronting the past had to be done like ripping a bandage—hard and ruthless to get past the pain. Maybe he should face what he’d been avoiding for so long. Get past the bandage and get past the pain.

  “How long has she been an analyst?”

  “Since after you went up against Polaris,” Frank replied. “She’s an assistant deputy over in Analysis right now. No one will say what she’s working on. I don’t know what project or area she has.” He shook his head. “From what I was told, she doesn’t work weekends or after five-thirty. But that’s Analysis, not Operations.” He shrugged. “I guess she couldn’t hack the reality of Ops.”

  Max stared at the picture. It was the standard, wallet-sized, semi-annual photograph. The shiny black hair was pulled severely back and calm brown eyes stared out at him. Her slender neck was just visible below a strong chin with its deep cleft.

  Automatically, his memories of that wild night slammed into him. She woke him by exploring his body, discovering that his flat nipples were sensitive. But not as sensitive as the sacks just under his cock. When she had gently taken one in her mouth, Max had groaned in need. He’d pulled her up along his body and rolled over. Bracing his arms, he’d reared over her. Black curls framing her face as her upper body rose from the rough blankets. Eyes half-closed in passion as her arms twined around his neck to pull him down to her. The soft smoothness of her skin as his mouth found the pulse on her neck. The slick heat of her body as he took her again and again as if desperate and determined to leave his mark on her.

  He clenched his jaw.

  Yeah, right, he thought. Some mark. He’d woken up four weeks later in a hospital bed and she had acted as if nothing had happened. That’s the little he remembered. Flashes of images. And her voice. Screaming his name. And something else. He’d never been able to figure out what else she’d been saying.

  He forced his eyes to what was written beside the photo.

  And frowned. That’s what was bothering him. Even if not married, everyone had a next-of-kin contact. But Ginny didn’t. No field assignments for the past ten years. No geographic area of specialty. No focus or project group. No educational background. No records on marksmanship or other training that was required of everyone not in Operations. Max knew the Deputy Director of Training was fanatical about making sure HQ staff went through a light, shorter version of the regular refresher agents went through. There were even quarterly competitions among the different groups. Ginny’s marks on all that should be listed but there was nothing beyond her home address, a phone number and her position. What the hell was this? He looked up and frowned.

  “Where’s the rest of it?”

  Frank cleared his throat. “You can’t see it.”

  Max scowled.

  He couldn’t see the personnel file of a woman he’d worked with ten years ago?

  They were back to the original choices he’d considered a few moments ago. Frank had lost his mind, was joking, or Max hadn’t heard him right. The problem was Frank seemed to like offering a different option—the truth. That didn’t mean Max had to like it. And he didn’t.

  “Why can’t I see it?”

  “Because the stuff she’s worked on is beyond your pay grade.” A brief frown appeared on Frank’s face, surprising Max nearly as much as if the man had burst out laughing. “Apparently there are things in her file that Vince thinks I don’t need to know.”

  Vince was Frank’s counterpart in Analysis. Max swore under his breath. Frank grunted an agreement. Frank didn’t like being told he didn’t need to know. In the space of five minutes, he’d admitted two incidents of it. This so did not bear well for the rest of the mission.

  “So, go get Ginny. Tell her she’s been transferred and reactivated as an agent. Bring her back here so the four of you can get a bead on Polaris before he has a chance to act.” Frank leaned forward. “I haven’t been able to send anyone. Vince wouldn’t give me the file until security confirmed you were on your way from the training center.”

  “Yes, sir,” Max nod
ded, rising and setting the file back on the desk.

  He didn’t need to be told that if Frank couldn’t see her file, then a partial had no business leaving his office. With the address and number memorized, he left Frank’s office and headed down the corridors to leave the building. His cell phone buzzed. Caller ID told him it was Mark, one of the other two agents from the original team.

  “Shannon.”

  “Frank told Al and me to go with you,” Mark told him. Max heard Al’s voice in the background. “We’ll meet you in the motor pool in five.”

  “I’m not waiting. You’ll have to catch up.”

  “Frank…”

  “There’s an asshole out there that wants us dead and she’s vulnerable,” Max barked out. Two junior staff members nearby jumped and scurried out of his way. “Tell Al to get his shit in gear and haul ass. If the shit hits the fan before you get there, I’ll call you.”

  “But…”

  Max hung up as he strode outside. His own words rang in his ears. If the shit hit the fan as it usually did when Polaris was involved, he would need more back-up than two men. He pushed two buttons. One of the junior agents he had been mentoring answered.

  “Nia, get Zach and check on a couple things for me.”

  Giving his orders, he hung up as he reached his SUV and gunned it out of the parking lot. The faces of his dead men seemed to hang before his eyes. They’d been some of the best he’d worked with and Polaris had killed them. Polaris had to be planning something big if he was taking steps to eliminate agents Frank would most likely send after his ass. And Ginny?

  Punching the address into his GPS, he frowned. Ginny lived west of the capital in what looked like the middle of nowhere. The small hamlet would offer little protection if Polaris went after her there. The upside was she lived outside the beltway on the same side as the Agency’s HQ compound. He glanced in his rearview mirror. To all intents and purposes, the stumpy square building with two angled wings looked like any other government building that had been hastily built during World War II. Given its position several miles northwest and outside the beltway, it looked like it was an unwanted part, preferably forgotten.