Branded: You Own Me & The Virgin's Night Out (21 page)

She heard another low voice.

Detouring by the bathroom to grab her robe, she headed downstairs.

She couldn’t think of too many things that would drag her brother out of bed this late at night.

Her heart raced and she fought not to let herself hope.

It had been months.

Those bright, shining slivers of hope quickly turned to daggers of

agony when the longed-for news never came.

When she stood in the doorway and the conversation went silent, she realized she was holding her breath.

Tyler glanced at his wife and then at Hal, who took up position at the kitchen island, papers spread out in front of him. He looked like he was ruling over a small kingdom—Hal Lenesco had been a lieutenant in the army until he retired.

He’d always intimidated Sloane.

When his pale green eyes came to hers, she lifted her chin and stared at him.

Hal rarely had more than a few words for her and even fewer smiles. He nodded shortly at her and then looked at Tyler. Her brother was staring at the table but as she shifted her attention to him, he dragged his hands down his face.

“He’s…” She swallowed and blinked her eyes, fought to clear them. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

“No.” Tyler looked at her then and she saw something that might have been
relief
in his eyes. Relief. Hope. “We found him, Sloane.”

Her heart leaped into her throat.

She pressed her fingertips to her lips as if that would stifle the shaken gasp.

We found him.

The night started out like most.

Loud and awful, with D.B. looking over his shoulder without letting anybody know he was doing so. It was second nature to him, something that came so easily and it hadn’t surprised him when he’d had that memory of walking the sands of a faraway desert, weapon in hand.

He hadn’t had any other memories work free, but he wasn’t surprised.

Sometimes, he thought maybe he’d never remember—he’d go through his life with just these vague flashes that were more like snapshots of somebody else’s life, rather than his own.

Luis’ money had talked and a few months ago, D.B. had found himself and Hector moved to a larger cell, one that housed just the two of them. The beds were by no means luxurious, but they were comfortable and now he was alone in the room.

Hector had been dead nearly a week.

D.B. could still feel the hot blood on his hands, still see the man’s intent eyes as he tried to speak.

Be ready
.

D.B. wondered if he’d imagined it, or if Hector had been saying something else. Or warning him. About Luis? That the man was a snake? No warning needed. He wouldn’t trust that man for love or money.

His mind was drifting and the silence wrapping around the place was gradual.

It wasn’t until he heard a low whistle that he realized the place was
too
quiet.

Slowly, he sat up.

The whistle came again.

He answered.

It was an instinctive response, some gut-deep need that told him to use a particular set of notes, one that echoed, but didn’t copy the

initial whistle.

There was no other sound, but D.B. didn’t stay where he was.

He slid off the bed, taking with him the knife he’d ended up killing to keep.

He didn’t feel too bad about it, since the man struggling to take it away had been dead-set on using it to cut D.B.’s throat open. The guards had turned a blind eye to the entire mess and D.B. had kept his damn knife.

Now he stood against the wall, the weapon in his hand as he strained his ears, trying to listen.

When the shadow moved in front of his cell, he backed away.

The doors opened silently.

And…

Nothing.

Nothing happened.

He’d been braced for an attack, braced for gunshots that would tear into him in the darkness.

But there was…nothing.

After nearly thirty seconds had ticked away, the figure in the corridor muttered something. Then he took a step forward. “Boone,
come on
.”

Boone
…

The sound of that name filled him with something…indescribable. Boone. That was
him
. It was a knowledge that burned inside his gut. His name. Somebody knew him.

The man took another step.

He lifted his knife. “Stay there.”

“You dumb fuck, you want out of here or are you enjoying yourself?”

Out?
He remembered the calm look in Hector’s gaze as he’d killed himself. The words he’d struggled to say.

Be ready.

For this?

Even as the question formed, he knew.

Hell, yes. For this.

They’d come for him.

He didn’t know who
they
might be, but deep in his gut, he knew he’d been waiting for this.

“I’m coming.”

Ten paces.

Hit the wall.

Turn around.

Ten paces.

Hit the wall.

Repeat
.

Sloane had all but worn a groove into the floor and she wasn’t anywhere near ready to stop pacing.

“Would you be
still
?” Ellen said, exasperation clear in her voice. “You’re making me dizzy.”

Sloane gave her sister-in-law a strained smile. “Sorry.”

Just then, a weak little bleat of a cry came over the baby monitor. “Look, Dani heard you. She must realize you need a break,” she said over her shoulder as she headed out of the room.

But Ellen was right behind her.

“What I need is for you to tell me why you’re so jumpy. Is it…”

Ellen’s pause had her looking back.

Ellen shrugged. “Well, we never really talked that much about how you’d feel with Boone staying here. Are you…hell. Sloane, are you okay with it?”

“Okay?” She laughed weakly. “He needs a place to stay, right? What else is Tyler going to do—dump his best friend when the guy needs him the most?”

She’d hoped she’d managed to cover well enough.

“Then tell me what the real problem is.”

Hope. Dashed.

As Dani’s cries grew louder and more plaintive, Sloane jogged up the steps. “Look, it’s nothing.”

Ellen was quiet as she trailed behind her into the nursery, but after Sloane had changed Dani and settled down on the rocker to feed her, the other woman continued to watch her with troubled eyes.

Sloane pretended not to notice.

“You should probably tell Tyler before he figures it out on his

own.”

Tension shot up Sloane’s spine. “Tell him what?”

“Don’t give me that, sweetie.” Ellen sighed and leaned her hips back against the polished wood of the bureau. “All I have to do is say the name
Boone
and you start blushing.”

As her face heated, Sloane lied through her teeth. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Liar.” Ellen said it in a friendly tone, but her eyes remained worried.

Under the weight of that compassionate gaze, Sloane buckled. “How?” she asked quietly.

Ellen lifted a brow. “As I said, you blush every time Boone’s name comes up and more often than not, you either find a reason to leave the room or a way to change the subject. Talking about him makes you uncomfortable and I couldn’t figure out why—not until the night we heard the news.”

A knot settled in Sloane’s chest as the two of them remembered. Sloane still got sick thinking of it and after she’d all but had a breakdown, she’d come up here, to Dani’s room, holding her baby as she sobbed.

Boone clearly hadn’t wanted a family.

But she wanted him and the thought of him being
gone
just ripped at her.

“He doesn’t know, does he?”

Sloane shot her a look. “No. Look…” She blew out a breath, struggling to explain. Just when she thought she had the words, Dani started to cry, waving one tiny fist in the air. “Hungry little girl, huh?” She switched sides, readjusting the baby and her bra with ease. Once the baby was settled again, she looked up at Ellen. “I didn’t tell him. He…um. He came to see me once. Asked if there was anything going on, if there was a
problem
.”

Even now, it hurt, the guarded look she’d seen on his face.

“Dani isn’t a problem,” she said quietly. Then, with a shrug, she said, “I told him there wasn’t any problem and he could just move

along with his life.”

“So. You lied.”

Sloane narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t lie. I had a
baby
growing inside me. In my mind, that wasn’t a problem.” Jerking a shoulder in a shrug, she added, “So maybe I wasn’t completely honest, but that doesn’t mean there’s a
problem
.”

A few moments of quiet passed and Sloane stared down at the baby busily suckling away. A pang went through her and she reached up, stroked the tip of her finger down Dani’s downy cheek. “She’s my world, Ellie. I love her with everything I have in me. He…” She had to stop to clear her throat before she could finish. “I think he would have been there, had I told him. But I don’t want a guy around just because he feels obligated. And now?”

She laughed, but the sound was hollow and without humor. “Now he’s going to be here anyway.”

Ellen was quiet.

Into that tense silence, Sloane said softly, “I thought about leaving. Going back to the city, or maybe finding someplace new altogether.”

“Honey—”

“I’m not leaving,” she said, cutting her friend off before Ellen had a chance to say anything beyond that one word. Flicking a look at her, Sloane shrugged. Danielle, deciding she’d had enough, pulled away and turned her head, staring up at her mother with bright eyes. Sloane smiled down at her child, love for the baby swamping her. “I want my little girl to grow up here, in the same town where I grew up. I want my home to be her home.”

“So…you’re going to have to tell him,” Ellen said.

“Yeah.” Sloane fought back the nerves that very idea brought. She’d stand by what she’d said. She hadn’t lied to him, not once. But, regardless, he wasn’t going to be happy.

She wasn’t sure she could blame him.

• • •

“This is it.” Tyler Redding slowed on the drive, gesturing up at the house that sprawled before them, a tumble of brick and wood and

gleaming glass.

It was late evening, the sun setting the sky on fire as it made its descent past the horizon.

Tyler cleared his throat.

Boone flicked him a look, knowing he wasn’t making this any easier on anybody, but unsure what to do about it. It had been four days since men from a security group known as DDX had busted him out of a Mexican prison. He’d gone from the prison to a military base to the U.S. Embassy and then, finally, here.

To the good ol’ U.S. of A.

And now he was only a few yards away from the house where Tyler had grown up. Tyler had told him that Boone had a condo up in Maine—apparently, Boone had been born in Maine, although he had no memory of that time. But instead of putting Boone on a plane to take him to the northeast, Tyler had brought him here.

To Nowhere, Alabama.

The sound of the town’s name tugged at something inside him, but no matter how much he tried to unearth the memories, he couldn’t. Didn’t really matter, he figured. Anything he thought he might remember would likely end up being wrong. The few things he’d thought he remembered weren’t exactly what he’d thought they were.

Like the woman.

So many nights, he woke up, reaching for her, but according to Tyler, there was no
her
. He didn’t date. At all. No former marriages, no fiancée out there waiting for him to come home. Nobody.

That pretty much sucked all the wind out of his sails, because he could have sworn there was…somebody.

“You know, you don’t have to put me up,” he said as the truck resumed its slow pace along what seemed to be an unending stretch of driveway. “I’m fine. Need to get some weight back on, scrub the past year out of my head, maybe remember who I
am
, but I don’t need to be crashing in on you.”

“You’re not crashing,” Tyler said, his voice easy. “And for your information, I’m doing this for
me
as much as for you. I…” His voice went husky. “Man, I know you don’t remember me, but I thought I’d lost you.”

An awkward silence fell. Boone would have given anything to make that strained silence easier to bear, for both of them, but he knew from experience that anything he did or said would only make it worse.

So he stayed quiet and when the truck stopped, he climbed out with only a pause to grab his bag.

But when they met at the front of the truck, he looked at Tyler. He knew the man. No, he didn’t have any memories of him, but this man’s face was one of the faces he’d caught in those odd, flickering flashes of memory. Well, him and his twin.

The twin was dead.

Tyler had gruffly relayed those details, his eyes gleaming wetly and then he’d changed the subject. Boone had felt a tightness in his chest and despite the fact that he didn’t remember the other man—Pierce—his throat had clogged up and he’d felt the urge to weep.

“Who is here?” he asked, slicking a hand gone damp with sweat down the sides of his jeans.

“My wife, my sister.” Tyler gave him a quick smile. “You’ve met them. They know you.”

“Fat lot of good that does me,” he muttered. Skimming a hand back through his hair, he glanced over at the house. “Do they know?”

“No.” Tyler grimaced. “Things got so crazy, I didn’t have a chance to call until today and then I decided I’d just wait until we got here. Hell, who knows maybe seeing one of them will rock your memory clear. You danced with my wife at my wedding. The three of us spent some time together in Maine at your place last year. I…”

Tyler trailed off and ended up shrugging.

Boone wasn’t about to bet on his memory coming back now. Maybe not ever. But he nodded.

He followed Tyler up the steps, carrying a duffel bag with what few clothes he had tucked inside. They’d given him clothes at the base, but nothing had fit so as soon as he’d been able, he bought more. Tyler had given him some cash and he’d tried to refuse, but then the

man insisted the money was his.

You’re not exactly loaded, man, but you ain’t hurting for money. I had the boss forward me some from the money you’ve got coming to you.

Money for what, Boone didn’t know. But he’d needed the clothes so he’d taken the money. He’d figure out who this ‘boss’ was and what money was owed to him later. After he’d acclimated to what had happened.

As Tyler pushed the door open, he glanced back. “Welcome home, man. Or to your temporary home.”

Boone followed him inside. He went to say something, but the words froze.

A woman stood in the doorway across from him.

Long dark hair spilled down her back.

She wore a sweater of soft, deep purple and it clung to soft breasts, ending just at the waistband of her jeans. Long, long legs were covered in denim and he had to drag his gaze away. This would be the wife or the sister. In other words, a woman he had no business ogling.

“Boone…”

Her voice was a throaty whisper and déjà vu grabbed him. That voice, murmuring his name—

“Sloane.”

Tyler’s voice interrupted, shattering the edges of the memory before it could come together.

The woman tore her gaze from Boone. “Tyler, I need—”

“Boone,” Tyler spoke at the same time. “This is my sister…”

The woman stopped speaking, her mouth falling open.

“Sloane, Boone’s dealing with some amnesia. He doesn’t remember us.”

Boone rubbed the back of his neck and glanced at the woman, then away. Another awkward silence settled around them. Finally, though, he forced himself to look back at her. With a short nod, he said, “Ma’am.”

A baby’s cry drifted through the house.

She spun on her heel and disappeared into the house.

Boone had the damnedest desire to chase her down. But he just

shoved his hands into his pockets. “You a daddy now, Tyler?”

“No.” Tyler laughed. “That’s Sloane’s baby. My sister. The woman who…”

“Yeah, yeah.” Boone found his temper edging into the red at those words.
That’s Sloane’s baby.

Sloane.

The woman’s name was Sloane and she was a mother. That meant there was probably a dad, too.

Definitely not a woman he needed to be ogling.

• • •

She’d disappear and hide, if she could.

But Sloane had stopped running, stopped hiding, stopped cowering on the sidelines some time ago. Maybe she wasn’t the take-charge woman that her sister-in-law was, but she could hold her own and she’d hold her own, right here, right now, damn it.

In her own kitchen, while Boone, Ellen and Tyler shared a beer.

She had a glass of sweet tea in front of her and for the first time in a long time, she kind of wished she could have a beer. Or something stronger.

Dani had fallen asleep and Tyler had brought in the little bouncer, tucking the baby inside it and urging his sister to sit down with them.

She wondered if Tyler realized that Boone wanted to be down there with them about as much as Sloane did. Well, probably less. Because Sloane was all but starving for the sight of him, he looked at her with the eyes of a total stranger. He didn’t know her from Adam. He’d looked at his daughter without a flicker of curiosity and he had to be reminded of Ellen’s name.

He hadn’t needed a reminder on her name, but Sloane suspected that was because he just didn’t care. He wasn’t talking to her, wasn’t talking to anybody at this point, really.