DRAGON SECURITY: Volume 2: The Complete 6 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  “That would be my guess.”

  “Why didn’t they file a missing person’s report with the police?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe they did. But you disappeared from Denver. Maybe the previous investigators didn’t bother to check interstate missing person’s reports.”

  “The first one did. And the second.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Positive.”

  He lay back down, throwing his arm over his eyes.

  “Does any of it sound familiar? Denver? The name?”

  He peeked at me. “What did he say my last name was? Did he say King?”

  I nodded. “He had pictures, too.”

  He moved his arm so he could study my face. “Did the pictures show other people?”

  “No.” I decided not to tell him about what I’d seen in the background of one of the pictures. “But he said he’d arrange for you to meet with his client if you wanted to see them.”

  “Do you think we can trust him? Or was it just a lie to get me to trust him?”

  “I think you can trust him.”

  “And the woman tied up back at the other motel? What about her?”

  I pulled away from him, sitting up beside him on the mattress, my thigh throbbing like crazy. It hurt like nothing I’d ever experienced before, but it was the kind of pain that promised to keep me sharp. I’d been thinking about that woman off and on since I woke, and the things she’d said to him. I got the impression that they’d been partners of some sort. The only question was, what sort?

  “Do you remember anything about her?”

  He shook his head. “I called her Rebecca on a hunch, and she didn’t correct me. But other than that, nothing.”

  “She implied the two of you were working together. Maybe you were working some sort of business deal together.”

  He smiled softly, a smile that lacked humor. “She called it a heist. I don’t think it was a legitimate business deal.”

  “You think you committed some sort of crime together?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” He crossed his arms over his muscular chest, chewing on his bottom lip like he was trying to figure out how to tell me something. Then he simply sighed and said it. “There was money in the car when I was in the accident. Thousands. I counted it when I was in the hospital and it totaled over eight hundred thousand dollars. I’ve spent some—living expenses and what not—but there’s still more than half of a million dollars there.”

  “That’s a lot of money.”

  He ran his hand over my thigh, my uninjured thigh, his palm resting close to my hip. “I wondered where it came from since they brought it to me in the hospital. But it never occurred to me that I might have stolen it.”

  “Maybe that’s who she is. Maybe she’s looking for that money.”

  “It’s back in Houston.”

  I threw myself back against the pillows with a sigh. “We can either go back and hope that we can get to it before her, or we can keep going forward and try to figure out who you are.”

  “I don’t see any point in going backward.”

  “Then we should go to Dallas and see if we can learn anything from the rental place where you got the car you were driving during the accident.”

  He stretched out beside me, his hand hesitating slightly before it landing on the center of my soft belly. I found myself fascinated by his big, masculine hand against my soft, white belly. It wasn’t that I was out of shape or anything.

  I prided myself in staying in police regulation shape, just like my father had. But I wasn’t supermodel thin, either. Yet he was in better shape than most of the Hollywood hunks who populated blockbuster movies these days. It was an odd comparison, the two of us side by side. I didn’t know why he was lying there with me.

  Couldn’t find anyone else more suitable in the moment, I supposed.

  “There’s a chance we’ll find out a lot of things about you that you will and won’t like,” I said. “Are you prepared for that?”

  He kissed my shoulder lightly. “Are you?”

  “My opinion doesn’t matter.”

  He pulled back a little, surprise in his eyes. “Of course it does. I care what you think of me.”

  “Why?”

  He traced a nice little circle around one of my nipples. “Because I like you.”

  “Why?”

  He laughed, a soft chuckle that was deep and beautiful. “You question everything, don’t you? I guess that’s what makes you a good investigator.”

  “Lucky for you.”

  He kissed my jaw lightly, his lips lingering as they moved slowly down toward my chin. At the same time, his hand slipped down over my belly, sliding over my hip and along the top of my thigh. I sighed, instinctively allowing my thighs to fall apart. My wound screamed with the movement, pain shooting through me until I had to catch my breath. But, again, it was good, that pain. It kept my head out of the clouds.

  “The guy from Gray Wolf said you were a day trader.”

  Xander stopped and looked up at me. “A day trader? I suppose that would explain why I’m good with numbers.”

  “Are you?”

  “I solved a complicated equation for my doctor just off the top of my head once. It was weird, but satisfying.”

  “Maybe you were a math geek in school. One of those guys who wears glasses and has a pocket protector.”

  That beautiful chuckle again. “Maybe.”

  I brushed my fingers against his temple. “I doubt it. You’re too good-looking to have ever been a nerd.”

  He grabbed my hand and kissed my palm. “I’m not sure about that. But thank you.” He moved closer, kissing me gently on the lips. The weight of his body against mine began to set off that alarm of panic at the back of my head, but I ignored it in favor of running my hand over his shoulder, of appreciating the feel of his muscles under my hand.

  He was so strong, so capable. I should have been frightened. The last time a guy lay with me this way—I guy I’d known for years, whom I trusted with my life—just the feel of his arm resting against my chest made me panic. But Xander … was it just the way he looked? Or the fact that he was practically a complete stranger? Or maybe it was the whole saving each other’s lives thing.

  I didn’t know. But I felt almost safe lying here in this bed with him despite what I’d seen in those pictures and what I suspected about his past.

  Maybe that made him safer in a strange sort of way, too.

  “Have you ever thought about the people you must have left behind when you disappeared?”

  He shrugged those strong, capable shoulders. “The other investigators have pretty much convinced me that there was no one. No one to file a missing person’s report, no one to call a press conference. No one who made much of a fuss.”

  “Someone must have, if they hired Gray Wolf. You think Dragon is expensive. You haven’t even begun to see expensive until you check out Gray Wolf.”

  “You said I disappeared from Denver?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why did they hired a security firm in Austin?”

  “They have an office in Santa Monica, too. From what I understand, they take a lot of jobs along the west coast. Maybe whoever hired them heard about them because of that.”

  He touched my breasts again, his fingers playing with my hardened nipples almost absently.

  “I’ve lived sort of in the dark these last months, wondering almost constantly who I am and where I’ve come from. I walk through crowded streets and malls and think that I might see a face I recognize or hear a voice I know. But I never do. When I look in the mirror … it’s strange looking into your own eyes and knowing nothing about those eyes, about that person, about the past that made that person who he is. I don’t know if I’m a good man, if I believe in religion or if I’m an atheist. I don’t know if these marks on my body came from a college prank or a stint in the military or something else. I’m a stranger to myself, and it frightens me a little.”
>
  “I can’t even imagine what that would be like.”

  He spread his hand out on my belly and stared at it, like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. But I knew it was just something to look at as his thoughts took his mind a million miles away.

  “I didn’t even know my name until today. And even now, I find myself wondering, who names their child Xander? Is it short for something? Was my mother some sort of hippie? Is it a family name? Do I have a middle name? It’s just … it’s odd not knowing these things about myself. I haven’t been able to think about the future because I don’t know what in my past might affect any decisions I make about the future.”

  “Like living in limbo.”

  He looked up at me and smiled. “Exactly.”

  “Then we’ll find out who you are, no matter what it is.”

  He touched my face, gratitude shining in his eyes. “Thank you.”

  We kissed again, slow and gentle. It was the sweetest kiss I think I’d ever experienced. I moved into him, let him slide his hand along my hip and draw me even closer. For a moment. And then the panic became too much and I had to push him away.

  But I rolled with him, sliding on top, reaching between us to guide him inside of me again. He groaned deep in his throat like the feel of my body was the best thing he’d ever known. Ironically, it probably was. The advantages of being with an amnesiac.

  When it was done, I lay curled on his chest, unable to shut my thoughts off. He was asleep, snoring lightly, his hands resting on my ass and my back. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Never mind the fact that it was incredibly unprofessional for me to sleep with a client.

  This was the man of my dreams, the kind of man that every woman wants, who finds it simple to be faithful to just one woman. To me. A man who was polite and gentle and kind. A man who opened doors and said thank you and yes, ma’am. The kind of man who had become the exception in this world filled with rude, unfiltered individuals. He was perfect.

  But the background of that one picture Ingram Porter showed me suggested otherwise. It suggested that Xander had forgotten not just his own name, but an entire life that was not centered just around him. It suggested that he wasn’t quite the faithful, gentle man he appeared to be.

  Just my luck. I’d found Mr. Perfect, but there was a catch.

  There was always a catch.

  ***

  I slipped out of bed in the early hours of dawn, hobbling around the room in a painful attempt to pull on some clothes. Then I stepped outside, cellphone in hand, and called Hayden.

  “We had a little incident last night.”

  “So I’ve heard. The police called, wanting to know why one of my operatives left a woman tied up in her motel room. And apparently there was an operative from Gray Wolf there trying to get a few minutes alone with the victim.”

  “He was still there?”

  “You knew about this operative?”

  “He’s been looking for our client for eighteen months, apparently. But he wouldn’t tell me the identity of his client.”

  “Of course not. You wouldn’t have, either, if the shoe was on the other foot.”

  “True.”

  “What do you know, Rhett? Who was the woman?”

  “Don’t know that. All I know is that our client’s name is Xander King. He was a day trader in Denver when he disappeared one afternoon eighteen months ago. Gray Wolf tracked him all over the states, but couldn’t catch up to him. And then he disappeared completely a year ago—which coincides with the car accident. The woman … her name is Rebecca. She claimed that she and Xander were partners in some sort of heist, but wasn’t specific about it. The client thinks it has something to do with a duffle full of money found with him after the accident.”

  “Well, that gives us something to go on. I’ll have Waverly check out the name Xander King and all major robberies that took place in the Austin area about the time of his accident.”

  “And we’re headed to Dallas to see if we can learn anything from the car rental place where he got his car.”

  “I’ve got Kasey headed in your direction with a new car and some cash. I figured you’d want to keep going, but you should probably get off the grid a little better. The case is important, Rhett, but your safety comes first.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You aren’t any good to us dead,” he added as a gruff afterthought that did nothing to cover up his concern. “He’ll meet you at a diner off the interstate in Waco.”

  “Okay.”

  “Keep your cell on. I’ll have Waverly call you with any updates.” He was quiet for a second. “Are you okay, Rhett? I know these things can be disturbing even to a seasoned operative.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “The cops thought that you or the client might be injured because they found blood drops leading away from the room.”

  “It’s nothing. We’re good.”

  There was a moment of silence again. Then he sighed. “All right. Check in again tonight. Be careful, Rhett.”

  He hung up before I could say anything more.

  That’s what I liked about Hayden. He cared, but he didn’t push. He knew I could handle this or whatever came up. But he also knew my history. I’d worried at first that it would influence his decisions when it came to assigning me cases. But I never got the impression that he’d refused to give me a case because of it, and I was grateful for that.

  In spite of his occasionally razor sharp edge, Hayden was a good man. None of us could have done better for a boss or for a friend. Amelia thought the loss of his fiancée made him a tragic figure, like Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights. I thought it just made him broken. Like me. Like everyone else, these days.

  Chapter 8

  Luke

  “I have Kasey heading your direction with a new car and some cash …”

  Not anymore.

  I caught up with Kasey in the parking lot across the street from the Dragon Security building.

  “Hey! You going to meet Rhett?”

  “Yeah.” Kasey looked me over. “Why?”

  “Megan changed her mind. She wants me to take the car and cash instead of you.”

  “Why?”

  “Highly sensitive case. She wants someone she knows she can trust, and who can she trust more than her husband?” I shrugged. “Sorry.”

  Kasey glanced up at the office building. Then he shrugged before handing me an envelope and the keys to a compact sedan parked a few spaces away.

  “Good luck,” Kasey said as he walked away.

  I watched him go before I climbed into the car and took off, getting a few miles away before pulling over to break the seal on the envelope. I slipped out a piece of paper that told me where to meet Rhett. And Xander King.

  These people had no idea what they were getting into working with that man.

  Amnesia. I found it hard to believe that was really what was going on with him. But, again, I wouldn’t put it past the people he surrounded himself with. I could almost picture what’d happened. They’d decided it was time to get rid of him and they’d set up the car accident. I didn’t imagine anyone believed he would survive. And when he did, it must have sent ripples of panic through the organization. Xander was a dangerous man. He needed to be stopped.

  And what were the chances that he’d come to Houston, to my wife’s security firm, if he truly had amnesia?

  I didn’t believe in coincidences.

  There was more going on here than was visible on the surface. I had to protect my family. I had to make sure Xander wasn’t holding onto old hurts, that he wasn’t bringing trouble back our way after all this time.

  Five years ago, Xander had come to Houston to kill my wife. Five years ago he was on the other side of the fight to stop rogue CIA agent, Edgar Olsen. There was a good chance he didn’t understand completely what it was he was doing, but that didn’t excuse his actions. And now he was back, and he was on the run with a woman who worked for my Megan. That
was much too close to home.

  If the CIA didn’t destroy Xander, I would.

  Chapter 9

  Xander

  There’s a little girl, her laugh reverberating all around me. I can’t see her, but I can hear her. And there’s this impression of her running in bright green grass, her small feet covered by those white, leather sandals that so many little girls wear.

  I don’t know why I can see her shoes and the bottom hem of her little dress—it has purple flowers on a white background—but not the rest of her. I’m not even sure how old she is. Two, maybe. Three? All I know is that my heart pounds when I hear her laugh and I need to find her, to protect her.

  And then I wake and the dream dissolves.

  I’ve had the same dream off and on since I woke in the hospital, but it’s become clearer, more intense, these last few weeks. I thought it had to be a memory, one that was trying to break through the wall of amnesia. But whenever I tried to focus on details, when I tried to figure out who the little girl was, it was like smoke sliding through my fingers. It disappeared before anything concrete came to me. I knew better than to try anymore.

  I rolled over and reached for Rhett, but she wasn’t there. I sat up, my first instinct telling me she’d abandoned me to this out of the way place. But her bag was still on the rickety valet and the keys to the SUV were still on the dresser. Just as I was about to get up, the door opened and she slipped inside, limping distinctly on that right leg.

  “Morning,” she said when she spotted me watching her.

  “How’s the pain?”

  She shrugged. “Think it’s okay for me to take a shower?”

  “Probably. Just try not to run water directly into the wound.”

  She nodded as she hobbled to the bathroom. After a moment, I heard her grunt as she struggled to undress. I went to her, pushing her down onto the toilet as I knelt in front of her, carefully removing her sweats before tugging at the tape that held the bandage in place. The wound was swollen, pulling against the stitches I’d put in it. But it wasn’t red, wasn’t weeping. It looked—if I did say so myself—as though it’d been treated professionally, except for the pink thread.