She rather thought she liked herself better when she had no memory of that woman.
Chapter 11
“Jane? You must sit. Please, sit.”
Though she still felt shaky and disoriented as if she were whirling and spinning through space, she finally keyed into Miriam’s frantic words. Jane blinked back to the kitchen of Mason’s ranch to find both children gazing at her out of huge, frightened dark eyes.
How long had she been sitting here like an idiot, gazing at nothing but her own sudden wild rush of memories? She couldn’t blame the children for their unease.
She mustered a smile, reaching for Miriam’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’m all right. I’m sorry I frightened you.”
Charlie said something in Tagalog that she believed loosely translated to something about having a mouse in his chest. She took that for some kind of idiom she was unfamiliar with about being scared. Oh, dear. Poor thing. She tried to muster a reassuring smile through the tumult of emotions churning through her.
“I’m sorry. I was daydreaming.”
She was still trying to reassure them when the door opened and Pam hurried in, a large bottle of painkillers in her hand.
“Sorry it took me so long. Couldn’t find them until I remembered I took the bottle along a couple weeks ago when we moved the cattle up to the grazing allotment. We stayed overnight in our fifth wheel, I remembered, so I checked the cabinets in the trailer and voilà, here you go.”
“Thank you.”
Pam rattled two of them out for her, then quickly poured a glass of water from the faucet. Jane swallowed them quickly, hoping they wouldn’t irritate her all-but-empty stomach too terribly.
On the other hand, she couldn’t imagine her stomach not being upset after what she had just remembered.
“You’re looking even more pale. How are you feeling?”
“Not quite ready for the undertaker, I suppose.”
Pam smiled. “Glad to hear it, hon. We like having you around, don’t we kids?”
The children smiled, though they still looked apprehensive. With a jolt, Jane suddenly realized how her presence here could threaten them.
Simon Djami had to be looking for her. She had seen that ruthlessness in his eyes when he’d ordered the others to kill her. Her escape had no doubt infuriated him, and he would still view her as a threat to his plans, a threat that needed to be eliminated.
What if he somehow managed to find her? What if he traced her to the ranch and sent some of his minions for her—or worse, came himself?
She sat at the table, her mind in a panic, until suddenly she remembered the radio broadcast that had started all of this. American authorities had several men in custody, the announcer had said, for plotting the terrorist attack. Somehow they must have uncovered the plot. Did that mean she was safe?
How many men? She tried to remember what the announcer had said. Three, she thought. There had been four men at that restaurant, but she didn’t know how many others were involved. Perhaps the others were looking for her.
But why would they bother? She had no other information about the planned attack than what she’d heard on the radio broadcast. She posed no possible threat to them if they were already in police custody.
The realization steadied her and she drew in a deep breath. Where to go from here? Even though the panic receded, she couldn’t seem to string two thoughts together with Pam looking on, her features still concerned.
“I think you ought to just go on back to bed,” Pam said. “You’re not looking at all well.”
“No, I’m feeling much better. I swear it. I’ll be right as rain in a moment. I can already feel the pills working.”
Pam didn’t look at all convinced. She opened her mouth to argue but before she could, the door opened and Mason walked into the kitchen.
Her pulse skittered as she remembered lying in his arms the night before and the wild heat between them.
“Okay, the vet’s done and I’m ready to go.” His smile encompassed even her, Jane was surprised to see, though it seemed slightly wary. “Who wants to go drown some worms?”
She met his gaze, his tentative smile, then felt as if someone had kicked her hard in the stomach. Blood rushed from her face and the room seemed to spin again as she tried to catch her breath.
She knew him.
That’s why he had looked so familiar these last few days, why she had wondered if they had met before. They had met. How could she ever have forgotten those eyes, compassionate and hard as flint at once?
He was the young American soldier who had kept her alive by tossing her into that helicopter so many years ago, when she would have run back to Harry, even though it was far too late to help her father.
He had held her while she screamed and cried, while she fought and kicked and pounded on his chest, then while she collapsed from six days of terror, little food and the final shock of watching her adored father die because of her.
She had never forgotten. She had thought of his awkward kindness often over the years and would have tried to thank him for what he’d done for her except she never learned his name, only the nickname “Brick” that the others called him.
She had supposed he had the nickname because he was solid and firm, but now she guessed it had something to do with his given name.
“Jane? Everything okay?”
She was staring, she realized, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “I…yes. Fine. Excuse me. I…I need to do something in my room.” Like toss her biscuits—or at least the tiny nibble of hotcakes and the two pain relievers burning a hole in her stomach.
She had to get away from here, from the weight of their stares and the questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
Her chair nearly tipped over as she scraped it back and she paused only long enough to right it again, then fled the kitchen for the sanctuary of her borrowed bedroom.
Mason frowned at Jane’s quick, almost panicked flight from the kitchen. What was that all about? She wouldn’t have run out of there any faster if Charlie had suddenly reached over and set her shirt on fire.
“Okay, that was odd,” he said to Pam, who was staring after their mysterious houseguest out of eyes wide with worry.
“She said she had a headache. I ran over to our place for some Excedrin and came back with it to find her pale as a ghost and looking like she’d just been slapped upside the head by one.”
He thought of that odd, disquieting look in her eyes as she’d stared at him. Something had definitely been different. He couldn’t put his finger on what, but the soft woman of the last few days had retreated somewhere inside a skittish, nervous wreck.
What had happened? All he could think about was their kiss the night before. Would that have set her off, turned her into a pale, trembling wraith? He had to doubt it.
Unless he was far more out of practice than he thought, she’d been right there with him, enjoying every second.
Pam and the kids were all looking at him as if he held the keys to the universe and could solve every problem.
“I’ll, uh, just go check on her,” he muttered.
“I don’t think she ate anything to settle those Excedrin. Maybe you ought to take her some toast. Or at least a little of that tea she likes. Let me fix a tray.”
She had settled right into his house, hadn’t she? He wasn’t sure why that pissed him off so much, but he found it extremely annoying that Pam knew exactly what kind of tea she liked.
This had dragged on long enough. He needed answers and he wanted them yesterday.
Five minutes later he stood outside her door carrying an overloaded, frill-bedecked tray like some damn servant in a grand estate somewhere. A footman, wasn’t that what they were called? The thought didn’t do anything to lighten his mood.
He knocked again, harder this time, and she finally answered, half concealed by the wood-paneled door. She looked pale, almost frightened, he thought. Was she afraid of him? What reason had he possibly given for h
er to think he might pose any threat to her?
“Pam thought you could use some tea and a little toast.”
She made a face, her complexion slightly green. “I’m not very hungry. She didn’t need to go to this trouble—I’ve only a little headache. I told her that but she seems to think food will cure every ill.”
“That’s Pam for you.”
He decided not to wait for an invitation—it was his house, after all—so he just pushed open the door with his shoulder and walked past her into the bedroom.
Inside the bedroom, he wasn’t quite sure where to take the conversation, another realization that didn’t help his mood. He was a trained spy, an expert at information-gathering. He ought to be able to question her six ways from Sunday, but he discarded every single interrogation technique he thought of using.
He wasn’t used to questioning his own methods. But then, he’d never been faced with a subject who affected him like Jane.
Maybe he was turning soft, losing his edge. He sure felt like it standing here in full footman mode, holding a blasted tea tray.
He set the tray on top of the dresser and shoved his hands in his back pockets. “Pam fixed some tea for you. You’d better drink it or you’ll hurt her feelings.”
She looked like the idea of tea sat her stomach about as well as swallowing a bucket of pig grease but she stepped forward anyway and picked up the cup with elegance and grace, just as he would have expected.
This close to her, he was unnerved to discover how lost she looked—and even more unnerved by his compelling desire to tuck her against him and keep her safe.
He needed her gone from his house so he could get back to figuring out his life!
She took a dainty sip then set the teacup back on the saucer with an absolutely pathetic attempt at a smile. “Thank you. That’s delicious. Tell Pam it helped immeasurably.”
As if one tiny swallow could take that haunted look out of her eyes. He sighed. “Okay, now that you’ve fortified yourself with the essential British restorative, you can tell me why you’re as jumpy as a grasshopper in a chicken coop.”
She focused her gaze on the cup on the tray. “I told you. I’ve a headache. That’s all.”
“Sorry, lady. You might be able to sell that to Pam but I’m a little tougher customer. What’s going on? Is your memory back?”
Her eyes widened but he couldn’t tell whether it was from surprise or guilt before she looked down at her tea again as if it held all the answers to life’s mysteries.
“Of course not. Don’t you think I would think to mention that tiny little detail to you and Pam and the children if it had?”
He studied her bent head, wondering why she suddenly seemed so fragile. “How would I know what you would or wouldn’t do? I don’t know a thing about you, Jane—or whatever your name is. You’re a bigger mystery to me right now than you were three days ago when I just about ran you down. You want to tell me why that is?”
She lifted her head to meet his gaze and he saw a jumble of emotions in her eyes, most he couldn’t identify. “I…I don’t know.”
“I don’t like mysteries. I don’t like unknowns. I don’t like situations I can’t control, and I especially don’t like people who lie to me. You’re not lying to me, are you Jane?”
“Of course not,” she answered with dignity. Still, he wasn’t sure he believed her.
He stepped forward and tilted her chin up so she couldn’t look away from him again. He needed to see her eyes.
“Tell me the truth. Please. I can’t help you unless I know what’s going on. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
She said nothing for several seconds, just studied him out of those huge eyes, then she leaned her cheek into his hand for just a brief instant before pulling away.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I can only tell you I truly hope not.”
That was no answer at all, he thought.
“Would you tell me if you were?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?” She answered just a shade too quickly for him to believe her and he fought the urge to grind his teeth together.
This was getting them nowhere so he abruptly changed tactics. “How’s your head?”
She seemed to think about this for a moment, then surprise flickered across her features. “Better, actually. I don’t know if it was the Excedrin or the tea but the pain seems to be gone.”
“Good,” he said, right before he kissed her.
He knew it was a stupid idea even as he did it, but he couldn’t resist. He wanted this woman with a fierce need that clutched him by the insides and wouldn’t let go.
Is it always like that? she had asked the night before. Her words had haunted him all night and he had known from the moment he walked into the kitchen that he would have to find out.
She stayed frozen in his arms, her body taut with surprise for maybe five seconds, then she wrapped her arms around him and returned his kiss with an ardent enthusiasm that took his breath away.
Back in his Ranger days, whenever his unit had been deployed, he used to watch his fellow soldiers as they were greeted by their wives and their girlfriends on their return. Though he told himself he relished his active bachelor life, in truth he had been deeply envious of those passionate, joyful reunions.
Jane kissed him like one of those soldier’s women, as though she hadn’t seen him for months and was so grateful to have him in her arms again.
He found it heady, intoxicating, and for several glorious moments they rekindled all the heat of the night before. Some dark and empty place inside him seemed suddenly flooded with light and he wanted to bask in it.
He didn’t have much chance before he heard what sounded like two sets of footsteps coming up the stairs. Swallowing an oath, he managed to wrench his mouth away and step back, his breathing uneven and his pulse a loud staccato in his ears.
Jane pressed a hand that trembled slightly to her mouth. Her breathing was ragged, too, he noted, and she had to swallow several times before she found her voice.
“What was that all about?”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Damned if I know. You bring out the oddest emotions in me. One minute I want to strangle you, the next I have to kiss you.”
“I guess it’s good for both of us that I’ll be leaving soon, then.”
“Right,” he muttered, though he had to admit he wasn’t particularly thrilled by the reminder. Before he could add anything else, a tentative knock sounded at the door.
In that prim and proper way of hers, Jane took a moment to make sure her shirt was straight and her hair smoothed down before she opened the door. Somehow Mason wasn’t a bit surprised to find the children waiting on the other side.
“We will fish now. Let’s go,” Charlie said.
Mason had to smile at the kid’s peremptory announcement. “Eager, are you?”
Charlie nodded. “We fish now. Jane will come, too.”
He started to say no, then stopped, considering the idea. He had conflicting goals here. On the one hand, he still wanted to protect the children from future hurt. They had already come to like Jane and having her along on their little trip would only encourage more pain down the road.
On the other hand, he also wanted to figure out what was going on with Jane, why she was so pale and unnerved suddenly. He couldn’t do that very well if he was up in the mountains with the kids and she was here at the Bittercreek.
He watched as both children moved toward Jane, drawn to her like tiny creatures to a water source. She laid a gentle hand on Miriam’s shoulder and had no problem taking Charlie’s undoubtedly sticky fingers in hers. Seeing the three of them together left an odd, unnerving feeling in his gut.
They were already attached to her, he realized, foreseeing trouble on the horizon when she left. What was the point in closing that particular barn door if the horse had already long since run out?
With a feeling he was going to regret this, he turned to her. “You int
erested?”
She stared at him with shock. “You’re asking me to go fishing with you and the children?”
“Is that so hard to believe?”
“Unexpected, that’s all.” She appeared to consider, then she squeezed Charlie’s fingers before releasing them. “I appreciate the offer, but perhaps I’d better stay here.”
Charlie shook his head vigorously. “You come. Please.”
“Please, Jane,” Miriam added.
She studied the two of them and Mason could swear he saw soft tenderness in those blue eyes. “You really want me along?”
“Yes!” the children shouted in unison, throwing their arms around her as if they’d orchestrated it.
With a laugh, she hugged them both to her, then lifted wary eyes to Mason. “Yes. All right. I’ll go.”
Something was definitely different about her.
He couldn’t put his finger on what, but Mason saw subtle changes as he drove his truck up the same mountain road into the Uinta Mountain Range where they had found Jane.
She appeared more thoughtful, more introspective as they drove up the mountains and a few times he thought he saw an awareness—a cognizance—that hadn’t been there before.
The children sat between them, Miriam quiet and watchful as usual and Charlie chattering away in his funny, jumbled mix of English and Tagalog. Every once in a while, Mason would take his gaze off the road for an instant to look at Jane and he would find her gazing back at him with an odd, intense look that left him aching and uncomfortable.
Those stars he had seen in her eyes the night before were back a hundredfold, as if the whole universe had unfurled in her gaze in a bright sprawl of glitter.
He didn’t know what he might have done to warrant such a look. It wasn’t something he was used to—and certainly it was not something he thought he deserved.
She wouldn’t look at him that way if she knew him—if she knew who he had been, what he had done.
Of course, he could never tell her. That part of his life was done, sealed forever in the deep, dark morass of intelligence archives. He had a new life now with the children, one he had to hope might eventually allow him to sleep at night.
The Interpreter Page 13