The Mercenary And The Marriage Vow

by Doreen Roberts

  His glance managed to convey his disgust. “I might have lied about being your neighbor, but I didn’t lie about the rest of it. Your husband and kids are waiting for you at home. Believe me, I’m doing this for your own good. Once you’re back home with them you’ll have a much better chance of getting your memory back. And those two little girls will have their mom back where she belongs.”

  Valeri stared at his harsh profile, struggling between suspicion and doubt. He sounded so convincing. Could he be telling the truth, after all? He had her pretty well trapped in his car. What did he have to gain by sticking to his story now?

  On the other hand, if his intention was simply to take her back home as he claimed, why had he threatened her? It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense.

  “I may not remember everything,” she said, a little desperately, “and I can’t explain the photos, but I am onehundred-percent certain that I am not the mother of those two little girls. Or the wife of that man.”

  “Yeah, sure. And you didn’t run away to have a hot time with your boyfriends on your husband’s money, either.”

  Shock brought her upright in the seat. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Oh, come off it, lady. You might be able to fool those doctors in the hospital, but you can’t fool an old pro like me. I wouldn’t be in the least surprised to find out this whole memory thing is just another ruse to get out of going back to your kids. Right?”

  Outraged, she felt like hitting him. “How dare you talk to me like that. Just who the devil do you think you are?”

  He sent her a sideways glance out of his pale gold eyes. “Maybe I am the devil.”

  She stared at him, confused and frightened by the bitterness in that muttered comment. “Look,” she said, dismayed to hear her voice trembling, “I really have lost my memory. At least about six years of it. I wish I could remember everything, but I can’t. I just know I didn’t marry the man in the photo and I’m not the mother of his children. Don’t ask me how I know that. I just know.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “It’s the truth. Which is more than you’re telling me.”

  He glanced at her again but didn’t answer.

  “You at least owe me an explanation.”

  “I don’t owe you a damn thing.”

  “If you’re not my neighbor, then who are you?” Again she waited in vain for him to answer. They were heading for the mountains, she realized. Already the commercial buildings were dwindling, giving way to long stretches of open road between the occasional fast-food restaurants and gas stations.

  She struggled to make sense of what was happening. She’d seen enough movies to know that cops didn’t always dress up in uniform and do things by the book. Even so, this one was being just a little too high-handed. Wasn’t he supposed to read her her rights or something? She was beginning to suspect he wasn’t a cop after all. She didn’t like to think of the alternatives.

  The sun beat through the window, burning her arm in spite of the cooled air blowing from the vents. Her head ached, and her shoulder hurt where the bruises were just beginning to appear.

  Tired of the tense silence between them, she tried a few more questions. “Why didn’t my...husband—” she almost choked on the word “—come for me himself? Why did he send you?”

  “He had to stay and look after the kids.”

  “Why did he ask you? Are you a friend of his? If so, he’s not going to be too happy to find out how you manhandled his wife.”

  “Lady, if I really wanted to manhandle you, believe me, I can be a lot rougher. Not that you’d complain about that, from what I hear.”

  Outraged, she was speechless for several seconds. When she finally got her breath, she practically spat words at him. “I don’t know exactly what you’ve heard, Mr. Thorne, but I can assure you, it is far from the truth. You must have me mixed up with someone else.”

  “How would you know, if you don’t remember? A lot can happen in six years.”

  She tried to ignore the unpleasant sensation in the pit of her stomach. “I only know,” she said firmly, “that I couldn’t possibly have changed that much.”

  “And that lady in the photos isn’t you...is that what you’re telling me?”

  She lifted her hands, and let them fall. “I don’t know,” she said miserably. “I just can’t remember.”

  “Or maybe you just don’t want to remember.”

  Her fingers curled in her lap. “You are quite the most unpleasant man I’ve ever met. I don’t know why I’m listening to you.”

  “Then don’t. Quit asking questions and you won’t have to listen to me at all.”

  Seething with resentment, she glanced out the window. They were climbing now, leaving the dry valley floor spreading out below them. On one side the reddish brown rocks towered above them, while on her side the wide shoulder gave way to a sheer drop.

  Even if she could jump clear of the car, there was a good possibility she’d fall over the edge and plunge to her death. The only thing she could do for now was to sit tight and pray that she’d remember something, anything, that would help her get out of this nightmare.

  She closed her eyes and leaned back in her seat. The sunlight flashed across her closed lids. Or was it the sunlight? She tensed, striving to see the visions flickering just out of reach.

  Alex’s voice, warning her. Of what? The police. Don’t tell them anything. Something else. Ahmed Sabhad.

  Startled, she opened her eyes again. Had Alex really said the sheik’s name, or was she confusing her own thoughts with those brief snatches of memory?

  Sylvan Springs. Come and get me. Can’t drive. Watch out. Don’t talk to the police. Don’t trust anyone.

  Sylvan Springs. So she hadn’t imagined it. Was Alex here in the Sierra mountains? If he was on the run, why would he head for Nevada?

  Unless Nat had told her the truth and she really was married and living here. That would explain why Alex would come to the Sierra mountains looking for refuge.

  Damn the fog that clouded her mind. She’d just have to wait until she got to the mansion. If she was really married to the man in the pictures, he’d have the answers she was looking for.

  On the other hand, if all this was a simple case of mistaken identity, then Sabhad—if that was his name—would tell Nathan Thorne he’d made a mistake and Nat would have to take her to the halfway house. Clinging to that hope, Valeri sat in silence as the car climbed the rugged road through the mountains.

  She felt Nat’s glance upon her a couple of times, but she ignored him. She concentrated instead on her elusive memory, trying to focus in on Alex. The brief flashes she got were not helpful.

  She saw herself walking alongside a river thick with boats. She was arm in arm with Alex, laughing at something he said. Obviously they had become close over the past six years. She was glad about that. She’d missed out on a lot, not growing up with a father. It was nice to know she could enjoy being with him now.

  They’ll be looking for me. Again Alex’s voice. He’d called her. Called her where? From where? A brief vision of a bedroom flicked across her mind. A comforter in desert shades covered the bed. Matching curtains hung at a window.

  She strained mentally to see out the bedroom window. Buildings. A city. She lived in a city. Not a house on an acreage in the mountains. Damn, why hadn’t she thought to try calling directory enquiries in Sacramento? Because Nat’s story had thrown her, that’s why.

  But now she had proof. Her own memory. She was not married to Ahmed Sabhad. She lived on her own in an apartment in Sacramento. She even knew the address. So who was Nathan Thorne and where was he really taking her?

  Nat glanced over at his passenger as the little car toiled up the steep climb. She hadn’t said a word in twenty minutes, but he could tell she was doing plenty of thinking. The longer he was with her, the more uneasy he became about the whole damn deal.

  Sabhad had warned him that Valeri would lie. She’d do anything to avoid go
ing back, he’d told Nat. Yet Valeri’s insistence that she was not the mother of twins held a ring of sincerity. And that made Nat uncomfortable.

  Sabhad had also told him that Valeri was a loose woman, ready to jump into bed with any man who asked her. That description definitely didn’t fit the woman who now sat silently by his side. The way she’d reacted to his deliberately coarse comments—uttered more to shut her up than anything—he’d have said just the opposite.

  Either the concussion and her loss of memory had altered her personality, or she was one hell of an actress.

  Or there was one more possibility: Sabhad’s story about his wayward wife could be a lie. If so, the big question was—why? Right then, Nat would have given a great deal to know which of his scenarios was the right one.

  One thing he did know. This whole setup didn’t smell right. He could feel a certain tingling in his spine that usually warned him when he was walking into danger. Making a note to stay on guard, he leaned forward to watch for the sign that led to Windridge.

  It came up on him suddenly, and he braked to make the sharp turn onto the dusty road. He saw Valeri’s hands braced against the dash. They were clenched, the knuckles white.

  In spite of his convictions, he couldn’t help saying, “Don’t worry, he’s not going to eat you alive. If you really aren’t his wife, we’ll get the whole thing straightened out when we get there.”

  She sent him a look that said plainly that she wasn’t holding her breath. Not that he could blame her. What he’d done amounted to a case of kidnapping: a federal offense. It wasn’t the first time he’d broken the law, but most of the time it hadn’t bothered him. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him now.

  He knew he didn’t like forcing a woman to do anything against her will—not even when she deserved it. And something was telling him that Valeri Richmond did not deserve the treatment he’d handed out to her. It was a little late now to say he was sorry. He could only hope that one day, when she watched her daughters graduate from high school, she’d remember to thank him.

  “There’s the house, up ahead,” he said unnecessarily, as wrought-iron gates, embedded in a ten-foot-high brick wall; loomed ahead of them. The name Windridge was worked into the iron like a florid inscription.

  To the left of the towering gates, a small hut with a glass window looked out onto the narrow road, which was hemmed in on both sides by smooth-faced reddish rock.

  A thick mass of pine trees obscured the house from the road, but Nat knew that the cameras mounted on either side of the gates gave whoever was inside the house a clear view of the street in both directions. The estate couldn’t have been better situated for security. The place was a virtual fortress. Sabhad had to be nervous about something—or somebody.

  Valeri’s apprehension was stamped all over her face as Nat drew up to the gate. An armed guard appeared outside the hut. He wasn’t the same man Nat had seen on his last visit to the house. Nat stayed at the wheel and stuck his head out the window.

  “Nathan Thorne,” he said crisply. “I’m bringing Mrs. Sabhad back to the house.”

  The guard looked puzzled. “Mrs. Sabhad? She has arrived from Riyadh?” He bent low to peer at Valeri. “Wait, that is not—”

  From the speakers on the gates came a furious spate of guttural foreign words. The guard reached for the gun in his belt, just as another guard burst from the hut.

  Nat, his instincts bristling like the fur of an angry dog, had already eased the gear into reverse. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator and yelled, “Duck! Hit the floor!”

  Valeri obediently crumpled into a ball at his side as the car shot backward, bucking and rocking in a cloud of dust. Bullets zinged past, and he heard a couple of them smack into the body of the car as he twisted in his seat and frantically threw the wheel right and left.

  Ever watchful for a way out of situations if necessary, he’d noticed a small clearing on the way up. There would be barely enough room to turn the car, but it was all he had. The gates were already opening up at the house, and a couple of serious black sedans sat with their engines chugging, just waiting to spring into the chase.

  “Hold on!” he yelled at Valeri, who was crouched down in front of her seat, her arms held protectively over her head. She never made a sound, and he spared her a second’s grudging admiration before concentrating everything on the wild maneuver that would either spin them around in the right direction, or catapult them off the mountain into oblivion.

  Chapter 3

  The clearing came up fast, and Nat sent up a silent prayer as he swung the wheel hard to the left, his foot clamped on the brake. He could hear Sabhad’s cars screaming down the hill, just a few car lengths behind him.

  The compact shuddered, and seemed to leap into the air as the back wheels slid in a wild skid. Concentrating on his timing, Nat swung the wheel over to the right and hit the gas. For one bad moment he thought he’d overcompensated as the wheels slid perilously close to the edge. Then the tires gripped and the car shot forward, just as the first of the two huge black monsters rounded the curve.

  “Stay down!” Nat yelled at Valeri as he took a sharp bend on two wheels.

  She didn’t answer, but stayed curled in a ball, half of her body tucked under the dash.

  He wondered if she’d passed out or something, but then he saw her rub her eyes with the back of her hand. He relaxed his mouth in a grim smile. So she wasn’t as cool as she made out. Not that he could blame her. Thank God she hadn’t been able to see out the window when he’d spun the car.

  Another bend came up fast, and he concentrated on the road. Sabhad’s men must have had orders not to shoot, since there were no more bullets flying. Not that they needed to. With the engines these guys had under their hoods, they could sit on his tail until he ran out of gas—he flicked a glance at the fuel gauge—and by the looks of it, that wasn’t going to be too long. He had less than a quarter of a tank.

  It was time for another desperate move.

  He glanced out the window. They were still too high up to risk going over the edge. He would have to wait for a side road, and hope to take those goons on his tail by surprise. All the time they were going downhill he had the speed, and the Volvo was small enough that he could outmaneuver them to gain a few yards. Once they reached any kind of rise, his advantage would be lost. It had to be now.

  He spotted a road coming up on his right. A dirt road winding up into the mountains, little more than a trail that looked as if it went nowhere. It was, however, just in front of another wicked curve, after which the road he was on was blocked from view by a tall outcrop of rock.

  Just to make sure, he risked slowing the car a little in a series of short skids, stirring up enough dust to cover his escape. He went into the steep climb sideways, the springs groaning as the car hit gravel, rocks and potholes.

  He fought the temptation to look in the rearview mirror. He needed all his concentration now. One split second could mean the difference between making it—or smashing the car against a rock.

  As it was, he scraped the side of the car as he rounded one of the huge boulders. He glimpsed Valeri scrunching up even tighter and felt a stab of remorse. “Hold on,” he muttered. “We’re almost there.”

  One more boulder and they’d be out of sight. He slid around it, braked hard and cut the engine. In the distance the sound of screeching tires and revving engines slowly died away.

  It seemed incredibly quiet when he cautiously rolled down the window. Not even a bird chirped. Dust still swirled around them, and the sun seared the arm he rested on the window frame. A faint smell of burning rubber mingled with the pungent fragrance of sagebrush and pine.

  “Stay there,” he ordered quietly, “and don’t move. I’m going to take a look around.”

  She gave him a quick, silent nod, without even looking up.

  He eased his long legs out of the car, and stood, ears strained to catch the slightest sound. Trusting that she wouldn’t try to make a run
for it, he left the car door open. His feet made no noise as he made his way to where he could see the road. It appeared to be deserted.

  Satisfied, he trod carefully back to the car. Leaning in through the window, he tapped Valeri on the shoulder.

  She started violently, but uttered no sound.

  “You can sit up now,” he said, and opened the car door wide enough to climb in. “We’re okay for the moment, at least.”

  Her dark eyes seemed huge in her drawn face when she looked at him. “Thank you,” she said, as if she were ready to burst into tears.

  “For what?”

  “For not leaving me there.”

  He narrowed his eyes and studied her face, his fingers drumming on the wheel. “Lady,” he said softly, “I don’t know what in the hell is going on here, but trust me, I’m going to find out.”

  “When you do, please tell me.” Her voice sounded shaky, but her eyes rested steadily on his face.

  “You’re still saying you remember nothing?”

  She shrugged, and he had the feeling that she wasn’t telling him everything. He’d been in enough tough situations to sense when someone was hiding something, and this woman was definitely keeping something to herself.

  No matter. He’d find out what it was eventually.

  “I’m glad you finally believe that I’m not that man’s wife.” She looked down at the gold watch on her slender wrist. “I’d like to go to the halfway house now.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not going anywhere.” He leaned back in his seat and stretched the tension out of his back.

  “But...I thought...”

  “I know what you thought. You were wrong.” He turned his head to look at her, and saw her face filled with dismay. His pang of guilt was becoming persistent. He didn’t usually waste time on self-recrimination. Damn her. She had a way of making him feel like some kind of barbarian.

  Needing to justify his attitude, he said harshly, “Look, right now I don’t know what to believe. I admit, so far Sabhad’s score isn’t too good. But I was hired to do a job, and once I agree to an assignment I’m obligated to deliver unless there’s a very good reason why I shouldn’t.”