Dead Reckoning

by Stanalei Fletcher

  He cleared his throat. “I think that’s enough remembering for tonight. You should get some sleep. We’re going to start early tomorrow, and it’ll help if you’re alert while we’re driving.”

  The warmth that cradled her began to fade. She lowered her eyes to hide her disappointment. His ability to switch moods, to highlight the danger they faced, reminded her that she was only a job. She shouldn’t mistake his concern for something more. She’d be better off following his example and staying detached.

  “My father isn’t the only one who believes I’m in danger. You do, too. Don’t you?”

  Although Egan no longer held her, he stood close enough for her to see the uneasiness flash though his eyes. “Yes. You’ve been lucky so far. It’s possible that losing your memory actually saved your life.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Most people would have headed to a familiar safe haven after the storm. For you, that should have been your family’s home in Maryland. Instead, your amnesia forced you to follow an unexpected course. You were lost among the evacuees like the proverbial needle in a haystack.”

  “You found me.”

  The muscle in his cheek jumped again. “I was lucky. That still doesn’t mean someone else hasn’t picked up your trail.”

  “I can’t believe anyone out there wants to hurt me. I wish we knew who and why.”

  “Don’t worry. I intend to find out.”

  His commitment to her safety touched her. Impulsively, she stepped close and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. “Thank you for helping me, Egan.”

  His arms closed hesitantly around her. Warmth returned, with the promise of safety. She laid her head on his chest, her hands splayed along the taut muscles on his back. The thud of his heart drummed reassuringly under her ear.

  The comforting embrace transformed. It seemed she only had to touch him before electricity arced and spiked, prickling the fine hair on her arms and sending a shaft of desire straight through her. She pulled herself closer, barely supported on wobbly legs.

  Egan’s hands slid up her arms and grasped them. He pulled out of the embrace and held her away from him. She swayed, impulsively reached for his support, but he stepped away. Cold air rushed in, filling the void he’d left.

  “Go to sleep,” he said raggedly.

  Twice she’d reached out and twice he’d rejected her. His message was loud and clear. I don’t want you.

  Kellee buried the hurt. He had no idea her emotions were tangled like a clothesline after a tornado. She stepped around him and stopped midstride when she spotted the bed. Her thoughts had been in such turmoil, she only now registered the bed.

  Share a bed with Egan? After what had just happened? Could she do it? Had they done it before?

  “I’m sleeping on the floor,” he said, as though sensing her thoughts.

  She whirled around. “I wasn’t…I was wondering if we…” Her cheeks grew hot. How did she ask that question?

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “No. We haven’t.”

  “Oh.” That settled the question about being lovers. Disappointment gnawed at her. She wasn’t his student anymore. She was a grown woman, with mature needs and desires. “I’m perfectly fine if you want to sleep on the bed with me.” At least she thought she was. “Besides, you’ll be uncomfortable, and might kink your neck, or worse.”

  He shrugged off her concern. “Comfort isn’t the issue.”

  “Then what is?”

  “Let’s just say I don’t need the distraction.”

  Her? A distraction? His admission ignited a flare of hope. Without a second thought, she walked over to him, stood on her toes and planted a kiss on the same cheek she’d slapped earlier. His scruffy whiskers grazed her lips, searing a new memory into her brain.

  “What was that for?” Frustration edged his voice.

  “For slapping you. You didn’t deserve it. You were doing your job.” She returned to the bed and pulled down the covers, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

  Egan stood rooted to the carpet for a moment. Then he strode decisively into the bathroom.

  She smiled when she heard him swear just before slamming the door.

  Chapter Nine

  The alarm on Egan’s diving watch brought him out of a hard sleep. He hit a button and stopped the noise. 5:00 a.m. A couple more hours of rest would be nice, but he’d like to be on the road in the next thirty minutes.

  Sitting up, he stretched the stiffness out of his neck and shoulders. Too many years out of his rigid SEALs regime had softened him. Even sleeping on the floor, instead the cold, rocky ground, didn’t hold the same appeal as it had ten years ago.

  Across the room, on the bed and oblivious to his discomfort, Kellee slept peacefully on her side. Long, dark lashes fanned over high cheekbones, while her brownish hair, washed clean during last night’s shower, curled gently along her jawline. The slight curve on her full, soft lips reminded him how they’d felt on his cheek last night.

  That little peck had taken him by surprise. Even more than when she’d slapped him. Her embrace had stirred a dark desire. It had taken a lot of restraint not to grab her and give her a real kiss. Not like the one in the parking lot. Not a kiss for show, where he’d had to separate his mind from the sweetness of her mouth. And certainly not a platonic peck on the cheek.

  His reaction last night was no better than when he’d tried to lure her away from O’Neal’s office that fateful day almost six weeks ago. Not one of his prouder moments, so he pushed the memory away.

  Even now, his fingers itched to brush her silken locks behind her ear, stroke her soft skin, and wake her to the delights morning could bring.

  Not now. Not ever. She was O’Neal’s daughter. She might not be a child any longer, but she still carried an aura of innocence, and would always be the kid he’d trained. He had no business thinking differently of her.

  After giving himself a moment to quell the physical effects of his errant thoughts, Egan gathered his makeshift bed and dumped it on the chair, then walked into the bathroom. Ten minutes later, showered and ready for the day, he walked back into the room. Kellee slept through it all.

  He considered not waking her yet. This was probably the first real night’s sleep she’d had for a while. He glanced at his watch again. They needed to start the day. Shaking her shoulder, he said, “Wake up, sleepyhead. Time to get moving.”

  Eyes closed, she stretched her arms over her head and sleepily mumbled something. The covers slipped to her waist, exposing one of the tank tops Egan had purchased, giving him an unobstructed view of toned, tempting skin. Warmth built under his fly. He should look away, but couldn’t. His fingers curled into a fist to prevent him from giving in to the urge to straighten her top. Kellee might appreciate the gesture on behalf of her modesty, but his hand already felt scorched from touching her shoulder. Any more, and he’d be as crisp as burnt toast.

  Kellee opened her eyes. A panicked, disoriented look replaced the drowsiness. “What—” She sat up and her strap slipped off one shoulder. “Oh.” She stared at him. “I…sorry. For a moment, I forgot where I was.”

  “No problem.” He backed off a step. Temptation was getting the best of him. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded and covered a yawn. “What time is it?”

  “A little after five. We need to get moving.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded harsh, but he couldn’t help it. He felt tested to the limit.

  “Okay, I’m getting up. Don’t be so grumpy.”

  Grumpy was only the half of it. If he didn’t get out of the room now… “I’m going to check the car and start loading our stuff. You’ve got twenty minutes.”

  “Twenty minutes to shower and get ready to leave?”

  “That’s twice as long as I took,” Egan groused as he headed for the door.

  ****

  Kellee glared at Egan’s back as he strode away from the bed. Dampness clung to his dark hair, and she couldn’t help but notice how per
fectly his jeans fit over his tight rear. He picked up his duffel and carried it out of the motel room. Try as she might, he simply wasn’t a man she could ignore.

  She seemed to recall Egan was a morning person. He’d never been grouchy when they’d trained in the early hours. Of course, her memory was still on the fritz. Maybe he was only happy in the morning if he was tossing someone around on the mat. The way his hand had fisted while he stood over her, he’d probably wanted to toss her out of bed.

  She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, grabbed her shorts, and padded into the bathroom. Twenty-five minutes later, she was showered and dressed. It had been a luxury taking a morning shower, even a short one. Something she wouldn’t soon take for granted.

  Letting her hair air dry, she gathered the rest of her new clothes, folded them, and put them in her backpack. She was wondering what to do with her old clothes when Egan walked back through the door.

  “It’s about time.” He eyed the tattered clothes in her hand. “There’s a Dumpster around back. I’d rather not have those smelly things in the car.”

  “Fine with me. I never want to see them again.” She’d started to roll up the shirt when a brownish-red stain across the back caught her attention.

  “I can’t believe I wore this thing all those days. Look how dirty it is!” She held it out.

  Egan peered over her shoulder. “Something’s not right.” He reached for the shirt, and she handed it to him. He walked into the bathroom, turned on the light over the sink, and folded over the shirt collar. He held it up to the light. “This isn’t just dirt. It’s blood.” Motioning to Kellee he added, “Come here.”

  She paused in the bathroom doorway, uncertain about what he wanted.

  He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the light. Lifting her bangs off her forehead, he probed the area around her bruise, under her hairline and along her neck. Every contact lit a small fire under her skin.

  “There’s a cut under your ear,” he said. “How’d you get that?”

  “Probably happened at the same time I hit my head.” She gave him a sidelong look and tapped her temple. “It’s called amnesia…?”

  “Smart aleck.” The upturned corner of his mouth took the sting out of his words. “Turn around.”

  Kellee hesitated. She had nothing to hide, except her reaction to his examination. Afraid he’d wonder why if she refused his request, she gritted her teeth and turned around. She’d lived through a hurricane…she could handle the wicked things Egan’s touch did to her.

  He lifted the back of her blouse. The rush of cool air collided with his super-heated palm sliding between her shoulder blades and under her bra strap. She willed her traitorous body to stand still as his hands seemed to slide more slowly along her side. Then he abruptly tugged on the hem of her blouse.

  “The skin’s not broken.” His voice sounded ragged even the though the words were matter-of-fact. “It’s not your blood.”

  Kellee tamped down the bubble of frustration at his clinical assessment. Stroking her bare skin didn’t seem to affect him the same way it had her. Obviously, he was more machine than man. She faced him. “Then whose blood is it?”

  His dark eyes shuttered and gave away nothing of his thoughts. “I think I’ll hang onto this.” Walking out of the bathroom, he rolled the shirt into a ball and stuffed it into the shopping bag he retrieved from the garbage can where she’d tossed it.

  From just inside the bathroom, Kellee fought an unreasonable craving for his touch, wishing she understood these one-sided feelings. Then, a horrific realization hit her. “You think the blood is from the man they found in my apartment?”

  “I don’t know.”

  A shiver racked her body. “Do you think I killed him?”

  His lips thinned to a grim line as he stood silently in the middle of the room looking at her.

  “You think I murdered him, don’t you?”

  He took so long to answer, she wondered again if the real reason he’d been sent to find her was to hide her from the police. “Well?” she demanded.

  He straightened the covers on the bed. Finally, he spoke. “You wouldn’t hurt anyone without good reason.”

  “That doesn’t mean I didn’t kill him. I know how to kill—look what I did to that man yesterday. You taught me those things. You know what I’m capable of.”

  “Yes. I know what you’re capable of.” He faced her. “I taught you techniques designed to parry and evade. Things to help you defend yourself. That’s different from murder.” His eyes blazed like burning coal. “You’re not capable of murder.”

  Kellee gripped the side of the bathroom door for support. Regardless of the conviction on Egan’s face, she wasn’t satisfied. What if he was wrong? How could he know for sure? How could she? She didn’t feel like a murderer, but…

  There were too many questions. Her headache returned. If only the fragments of this nightmare would fall into place. She rubbed her temple. “I hate this amnesia.”

  “Leave it be.” His voice was gentle. “We’ll find out what happened. If you can’t remember, I can try and get it to the lab for DNA testing.”

  “The lab?”

  “Your father’s lab, at Northstar.”

  She shook her head in confusion.

  “Northstar is the private security firm your father owns,” he explained. “It has a state-of-the-art lab run by Allison Richards. The two of you are great friends.”

  “I know I sound like a broken record, but I just don’t remember.”

  He gave her sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry. I have no doubt it will all come back to you. The truth will reveal itself. It always does.”

  The truth.

  Maybe he was right. Maybe with Egan’s help she’d get to the truth—remember her past, and then she could move on with her life.

  He gave her a quick smile, and she wanted him to hold her as he had last night. She wondered if she naturally craved human touch, or was her need due to these recent events? All she knew was she wanted assurance that she wasn’t alone. To feel safe. Before she realized it, she’d crossed the room and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  He stiffened—holding himself tight—then seemed to relax as he let out a breath.

  Laying her head against Egan’s chest, she felt the comforting thud of his heartbeat. Unlike last night, it served to calm, not arouse. Somehow, in only one day, he had provided the peace she desperately needed. “You’ll help me, won’t you?”

  His chest moved as he nodded. He put his hands on her shoulders and stepped away. He glanced at the door, then back at her. “That’s why I’m here. But right now, we should be on the road.” Picking up the bag with the shirt inside, he said, “I’ll hold on to this. You won’t have to look at it again.”

  The mixed signals confused her. He rejected her, yet reassured her. Along with her memory loss, she was on tenuous footing with this man who’d rescued her. She trusted him, but her emotions bobbed like a dinghy on the ocean. What if her emotional dinghy capsized, and she couldn’t find land?

  She supposed, like everything else in the past few days, she’d deal with the situation if or when it came up. She followed Egan out to the car. After tossing her pack in the rear seat, she got in.

  Egan drove out of the city limits, heading south on Interstate 75. Earlier, he’d said he was taking her somewhere they wouldn’t be found, but hadn’t told her where. He looked preoccupied, probably trying to figure out how to keep her from being arrested for murder. As much as she wanted to know more about where they were going, she held back her questions.

  They drove in silence for about an hour, chasing the sun as it peeked in and out of the growing cloud cover. Then her stomach growled. “I’m hungry.”

  Egan chuckled. “I have to say that I rather like the new you. Not as refined and lady-like as I recall.”

  “Like keeping my stomach quiet is something I can control? Maybe this is the real me. How strange would it be to start over with a br
and new personality?” Her stomach growled again. “One that’s always hungry.”

  His smile grew. “I was afraid our earlier conversation might’ve ruined your appetite.”

  “It did for a while,” she replied. “But last night’s pizza is long gone. When can we stop?”

  “Soon. I know a place that serves a great shrimp omelet. Can you wait?”

  “How long?”

  “About ten more minutes.”

  “I don’t suppose I have a choice.”

  He chuckled again. “Not really.”

  It was nice to have a lighter moment between them. So much of their conversation had been burdened with her problems…and the dead guy. Hoping to continue their easy conversation, she asked, “How do you know this area so well?”

  “I had an uncle who lived in Jacksonville. When my brother and I would visit, we’d take time to explore the surrounding area.”

  “I don’t remember your brother. Does he live nearby?”

  “No.”

  His clipped reply surprised Kellee and didn’t invite further questions, but she ignored it. “Where does he live?”

  Egan’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turned white. “He’s dead.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed. “I’m sorry.” She was sorry. Sorry for his loss and sorry she’d pushed for answers. Sorry that no matter which direction she turned, there was death staring back at her.

  Deep within her mind, she knew it was hard to lose someone. Her mother was dead. Once she regained her memory, she expected to feel the pain of that loss. It seemed the more she tried to learn about Egan, the more her questions alienated him. Since he was helping her, it made good sense to stop probing. She hoped good sense was something that came with her new personality.

  About ten minutes later, as promised, they exited the interstate and turned onto the main street of a small town. They drove a couple of blocks before pulling into a gravel parking lot in front of a house. The lettering across the glass picture window read The Indigo Chicken.

  “This is a restaurant?” she asked. Except for the sign in the window, the white, wooden building looked like a residence, not a business.