In the Dead of the Night (2 page)

She glanced at the clock.
Nearly half past two. Then she recalled Thurman hadn’t come home. Had she been dreaming that she’d heard voices?

Or was he home now, talking to himself or speaking to someone on his cell phone?

She pulled her covers aside, sat up, and yawned. Thank God tomorrow was Saturday, no work.

The sound like the popping of firecrackers went off outside.
She shook her head. Idiot neighbors. Didn’t matter the time of year, they were always shooting off fireworks or shooting dove or something. Though the hour seemed a little odd.

She tucked her hair behind her ears and rose from the bed.
The central air conditioner clicked on, humming as it worked, spinning a cool breeze about her head.

Half asleep, she padded barefoot out of the bedroom and down the carpeted hallway.
“Thurman?”

By habit, she never turned on lights as she moved around in the dark, not wanting to wake herself up.
She knew where everything was, as long as Thurman didn’t move anything. The back outdoor lights provided a nightlight kind of illumination in the living and dining area through the shades on the windows. When she stepped into the living room, she realized at once something wasn’t right. It was too dark. One light bulb might have gone out, but all three at one time?

Before she could investigate, the doorknob twisted to the French patio doors leading out of the living room and onto the trellis-covered porch.
A chill ran down her spine. She stood frozen in the middle of the living room with indecision.

Thurman was the only other who had a key to her place.
It had to be him. She relaxed.

Then the door burst open with a bang.
She couldn’t see who it was in the dark, but it had to be Thurman. Unless...

She didn’t want to think of any
other scenario. He wanted her and badly. He wouldn’t harm her. Not yet.

“Thurman?”

As soon as she spoke, footsteps hurried toward her, but not from the back door, instead from the kitchen. Panic filled her instantly. She turned and dashed for her bedroom, trying to keep her wits about her. If she could reach her gun in the bedside table…

The blood pulsed in her ears and her skin crawled.
How could she have been so foolish?

“
Damn it!” a man’s dark voice said, as a chair crashed in the living room.

“Shit, Blackie!” the other exclaimed
, as he evidently tripped over the first, who’d spoken in the dark.

Blackie yelled back, “The damned cops are all over the place!
Bernard got hit already. I’ll take care of the girl. Get to the vehicle and bring it here or we’ll never get out of here alive.”

Jenny slammed her bedroom door shut and locked it.
She sprinted to the nightstand. After nearly yanking the drawer completely out of the chest, she shoved her hand inside. Nothing but papers.

“Oh, my God.”
On the verge of hysteria, her voice sounded unnatural to her ears. When heavy footsteps ran toward her door, chill bumps freckled her skin.

Where’s
the gun?
She’d just moved the gun from its hiding place in her closet to the nightstand that morning before work. Thurman couldn’t have…

The doorknob to her bedroom door twisted violently.

She fumbled with the light switch to the crystal lamp sitting on the nightstand, her fingers shaking so hard she couldn’t locate it.

Something slammed against her hollow core door, caving the whole thing in with a crash.
She let go of the lamp and yanked the bottom drawer open, though she was certain the gun had been in her top drawer. She slid her hand over the papers and other paraphernalia inside. No gun, damn it!

Her whole body prickled with a chill as she tried to think.

She jerked the lamp’s cord out of the wall. Unable to see the intruder in the dark, she imagined he couldn’t see her either, but all the noise she’d made would have clued him in. Still if she could use the nearly three-foot tall, heavy crystal lamp on him...

Hurried footsteps closed in on her.
His clawing onion breath and sweaty body odor suffocated her. She swung the lamp at the figure. The lamp connected with his solid body, resulting in a thud.

He yelped in pain, then swore at her.

Grabbing her arm, he jerked her backward. His jagged fingernails dug into her bare skin. He’d kill her for sure now.

A scream she didn’t
recognize, full of terror and panic, issued from her. Her heart beat spastically before a painful blow to her head radiated outward. The darkness filled her skull, shutting out the pain, the smells, the world.

***

When Jenny cried out, Allan knew he was already too late. The sound of her scream wrenched at his gut. Hired killers didn’t need more than a few seconds to kill their victims.

The notion Allan hadn’t reached her in time made him sick to his stomach.
Damn the orders. He should have slipped into the house and stayed in here with her, waiting for the bastards to show up. Damn it
to hell
.

Allan shoved a fresh magazine clip into his weapon and dashed through the living room, skirting the overturned chair.
Her scream had come from the bedroom, but there was no sound from there now. No lights on in the house either, but his night vision goggles provided all the illumination he needed.

He crept
down the hallway, fighting the urge to charge into the room to rescue the woman just in case she was still alive, though in his heart he knew she wouldn’t be. The man who’d killed her could gain the upper hand if Allan didn’t keep his feelings in check.

Then he heard movement in the room.
The killer moved around in the bedroom far enough from the door that Allan chanced bolting for it. When he reached the doorway, he peered in, gun readied.

Suddenly, a lamplight flipped on, instantly blinding Allan.
He yanked off his goggles in time to get a fist in his jaw. Pain radiated through the left side of his face, and the impact knocked him against a shattered door. Stumbling, he fell backward, landing on his butt.

Allan cursed
under his breath. How could he have let the killer get the best of him?

The stalwart man wearing black coveralls, mid-thirties, brown hair and eyes, and a crooked smile, yanked out a ten-inch blade.

In the next instant, Allan realized he’d dropped his gun. Then in a not by-the-book Special Forces maneuver, he lunged forward, tackling the big ape’s legs. Catching the man off-guard, he threw him backward.

When the man landed on his back with an oof, Jenny groaned.
My God, she’s still alive.
Allan pinned the man’s arms down and tried to break his grasp on the knife.

Jenny groaned again.
Allan’s adrenaline surged to new heights. The man attempted to stick him with the knife. Allan finally twisted the man’s hand back to where he couldn’t keep a grip on it. The weapon fell on the carpet.

A shot rang out in the living room, then another.
Someone groaned and a thump followed.

Allan tried to flip the perp over so he could handcuff him.
But the man pulled a second knife out and slashed at Allan’s black field uniform. “Screw this,” Allan said, under his breath. He pinned the man’s knife arm down with his knee, then grabbed his head and with a swift jerk, broke his neck.

When he was certain he was dead, he retrieved his gun, then ran to Jenny.

Lying deathly still and dressed only in a translucent pink nightie, she seemed already dead. He grasped her wrist. Her pulse was weak. He quickly checked her over for knife wounds. Not finding any, he studied her head. The area on her forehead was raised and red.

With guarded relief, he grabbed an afghan off the bed and wrapped it around her.
But when the sound of footsteps approached, he rose from his crouched position and readied his gun. This time he’d protect her like he’d meant to do in the first place.

Dale’s cheeks were flushed as he ran into the room.
“Where’s the girl?”

Allan returned to her where she l
ay on the other side of the bed and lifted her from the floor. “She’s alive, barely. What about the others?”

“We killed five of them.”
Dale pointed to the one lying on the floor. “Well, that makes six. But our men are fine.”

“We’ve got to get her out of here.
When Wilson finds out she isn’t dead, he’ll send someone to do the job right.”

Allan headed for the doorway.
“Something really isn’t right about this case. About this woman.” He carried her down the hall. “One man is all he ever hires to finish off his women. Why in the world would he need six?”

Cameron ran into the house with Samuel on his heels.
“Hot damn, we’ve got a live one this time.”

Allan glanced down at Jenny’s pale face.
“Barely.”

“How’d we manage to get so lucky?”
Samuel grabbed the front doorknob.

“
He had plenty of time to kill her before I reached the bedroom. Unless he heard me coming.” Glumly, Allan shook his head. “No, he still could have killed her with the blade he carried.”

The whole scenario with Jenny bothered him.
She wasn’t like the other women. Why had Wilson targeted her? Allan knew he had to solve the mystery before Wilson came for her again.

***

Three days later, Allan sat in a leather chair in front of Raymond Garcia’s desk at the A.T.A. sub-headquarters, Houston, Texas. Garcia’s years of highly regarded service in the C.I.A. had earned him the job as the head of their unit, but right this moment, Allan knew the man had lost his mind.

Garcia’s paunchy waistline, graying temples
, and fat-cheeked face made him appear jovial. In fact, the man had a great sense of humor, was soft-spoken, easy to get along with, and was a good judge of character...until today. What the hell had come over him anyway?

Garcia sucked in a deep breath and leaned back in his chair.
“I wouldn’t pick you for the job, if I didn’t think you were right for it.”

“Serving as Jenny Brant’s bodyguard is fine.
Helping her to regain her memories, I can handle. Pretending to be her husband while she has amnesia—”

Garcia raised his hand.
“We’ll play the game my way. Dale says you’ve read up on every bit of information you can find on Miss Brant while she was under the doctor’s care. She’s been released from the hospital and transferred to the safe house. Now we need someone who can both protect her and help her to recover her memories. We need to find out what she knows about Wilson.”

Garcia tapped his pen on his desk
, then pointed it at Allan. “If she believes you’re her husband, she’ll be more trusting and more than likely want to stay with you until she remembers her past. We can’t keep her against her wishes, so if we don’t handle this right, she could very well return to her home near Waco and end up dead.”

Allan clenched his fists, not liking the scenario at all.

“Remember, she’s the first woman who’s known him, who’s ever escaped him. We have to learn if there’s anything she knows about him that’ll aid us. Quite frankly, you’re the only man for the assignment.” Garcia paused, his eyes twinkling with a bit of mirth. Then he frowned. “Just keep me informed on your progress with her. In the meantime, we’re looking into her background to see what we can come up with.”

If Allan didn’t kn
ow Garcia any better he’d think he’d planned the whole rotten thing. Allan rose from his chair.

“Someday you’ll thank me.”

Now
that
was a Garcia standard line if Allan ever heard one.

“Yeah, well, for the record, this is one big mistake,” Allan said.

When he stepped into the hallway where Dale waited, a smile tugged at his partner’s lips.

“Don’t say a word, Dale.”

“Cameron and Samuel, and a couple of others we’ve never met, are already at the condo with her. We’re on the next flight out. Warm, crystal clear, aqua waters, white sand beaches. What could be better?”

They walked out of the two-story, white stone building.
The blast of heat and humidity hit him like a summer shower.

“What could be better?”
Allan’s voice showed his irritation, despite trying to curb revealing his feelings about the woman or situation to his partner. “It’d be better if one of
you
guys had the task of being her husband instead of me.”

Dale chuckled.
“The nurses had to chase you out of the room when they tried to take care of her.”

Damn
. Everything Allan had done concerning the woman had to be misconstrued by his partners. “I was trying to ensure she was still being protected in case Wilson—”

Dale slapped him on the arm.
“Yeah, I know. And when Samuel tried to relieve you, you said no.”