In the Dead of the Night (3 page)

Allan shook his head.
Dale had him there
. Allan couldn’t think of one snappy retort to explain his actions that time. He’d saved her life. That was all. He wanted to be there when she came to. Didn’t most search and rescue workers feel the need to have closure in the cases they’d worked?

As they crossed the parking area, h
e ran his hands through his wind-swept hair. He was
just
doing his job.

“
Then
you researched everything you could find on the woman.”

Allan
glanced at Dale. “It’s my
job
.” This time his voice reflected his annoyance. It
was
his job. Damn it. “If we discover why he singled her out, then we’ll have a better chance at protecting her.”

“Yep, that’s what I told the boss.”
Dale turned to Allan, raised his brows, and grinned. “He didn’t believe it one bit.” He shook his head. “Said it’s in your profile. You’re an agent with a soft heart when it comes to needy, good-looking dames.”

“I had one wife for nine years.
How does that make me a softy when it comes to women?” Allan yanked his car door open.

“You rescued Millie from that awful father of hers, didn’t you?”

“That’s one case.” Allan slammed his door shut as Dale climbed into the passenger’s seat.

“And after your divorce,
you tried to rescue that woman separated from her husband, who kept stalking her.”

“So, two cases.”
Allan jammed his key into the ignition.

Dale nodded.
“Well, here’s your third case.”

Allan stiffened his back
. He normally loved his job. But pretending to be the woman’s husband could stir up all kinds of trouble, not in the least bit, the problems he was already having with keeping his feelings separate from the mission.

Guarding her and helping her to regain her memories...no problem.
But what more would he be expected to do, to accomplish the mission? Already, he was losing sleep over it. And for him, that was a bad sign.

At the A.T.A.’s condo in the Grand Cayman Islands, sunlight filtered into the bedroom late that afternoon, wrapping it in a blanket of warmth.
Oil paintings pictured white stucco shops with red tile roofs and window boxes full of hibiscus and orchids added sparkle to the room. The oak dresser, bedside tables, and two chairs all wore a wash of white, light and airy, perfect for the tropical setting. But none of it held Agent Allan Thompson’s attention as much as the sleeping woman did, who for the first time in three days, finally rested quietly.

Jenny hugged the queen-sized comforter, decorated in red hibiscus with pink throats in a splash of color, tightly again
st her breast. Her red-blond hair had been freshly dyed brown by a female agent and rested in curls over her shoulders. Now she slept peacefully, undisturbed by the nightmares that plagued her sleep. But when she woke, regaining full consciousness, then what?

The nightmare would really begin.
Allan shook his head, not agreeing with the boss on this one. Lying was often part of the job, but telling a woman who had amnesia he was her husband, was taking it too far.

His redheaded male partner rose from the chair he had been sitting in, situated against the be
droom wall and joined him.

Dale cleared his throat.
“Better than dying her hair black, don’t you think? The rest of her hair wouldn’t have matched well enough.”

Allan glared at him.

Dale grinned. “Eyebrows, dude. Cameron said you’ve been pretty sullen over this whole case. What gives?”

Their regular partners, Cameron and Samuel, were staying in the first two floors of the condo with two more agents and for that, Allan was grateful.
He didn’t want ribbing from all of them at once.

Allan crossed his arms and turned his attention back to Jenny.
“The whole plan is ludicrous. She’ll know instantly that I’m not her husband. And then she’ll be screaming abduction or something worse.” He turned to Dale. “Why me?”

“You’re the only one currently unattached.”

Allan shook his head.

“Hey, I asked the boss if I could do the job, but he flatly said no.
Safer this way. You’re divorced. No regular girlfriend at the moment. I’ve got a wife and three kids.” He rubbed his bearded chin. “Besides, the Agency doctor said she’s suffering from amnesia. They figure it’ll be better this way.” He folded his arms across his broad chest. “Just think, it’ll be fun getting to ‘know’ her all over again.” He waggled his red brows.

She stirred.

“I think that’s your cue, Allan. I’ll be in the kitchen. You need anything, just holler.”

Allan blew out his breath.

Wilson was the head of a terrorist cell that constantly moved across international borders, one step ahead of the A.T.A. The bastard had only recently slipped back into the U.S. But those running A.T.A. still couldn’t determine the connection between Jenny and him. There seemed to be nothing she had that he would have been interested in, except maybe using her as a cover while he funded his next mindless act of terrorism.

Allan considered the comforter covering her.
Yeah, undercover all right.

She stirred again.
Her small, heart-shaped faced matched the rest of her petite figure. But he much preferred her naturally red-blond hair. He took a deep breath. What difference did it make?

All that mattered was he ensured Jenny suffered no further injury, and that he nailed Wilson good this time.
The man was a master at disguise, but A.T.A. officials hoped Jenny might be able to reveal something that could help identify him when they caught up to him. They had to find out what Thurman wanted with her first though.

To the Agency’s regret, she wouldn’t be able to tell them until she recovered from her amnesia.
The doctors had warned she had to be eased into her memories, not forced into remembering her past all at once.

Allan stepped closer to the bed.
She was bound to scream when she finally remained conscious long enough and attempted to recognize her surroundings.

“Jenny,” he said, softly.

He reached out to touch her cheek, then pulled his hand back. He did fine play-acting, even pretended to be another agent’s husband once, but this was different. The “wife” at least knew she wasn’t really married to him. On top of that, his divorce with his real wife, Millie, was too fresh in his mind.

She’d hated his secretive lifestyle and his constant trips away.
It had only been six months since their divorce had been finalized. Even a pretend marriage to another woman at this point in his life certainly didn’t appeal.

Jenny licked her full pink lips.
He swallowed hard. The guys knew he was a sucker for a good-looking redhead, and every one of them had taken the opportunity to rib him mercilessly about his latest assignment.

He walked over to the window and stared out.
The job came first, but nothing felt right this time.

The three-story condo sat beachside along an expanse of sugar white shoreline.
The next condo was located several hundred feet away, giving the Agency’s building plenty of privacy. Across the sand, the aqua blue waters drifted in and out, licking the white granules in an endless rhythm. If it weren’t for the current job, the place would truly be an island paradise. Often, agents used it on vacation, a safe house away from their normally hazardous duty.

Jenny moaned
, and Allan jerked around.

She touched her temple where a raised, discolored lump still marred her smooth, tanned skin.

His heart stilled. She was awake. He couldn’t believe the panic that filled his system. He wasn’t ready for his role as her husband, not now, not ever.

Taking
a deep breath, trying to settle his anxiety, he opened his mouth to speak. She didn’t see him, not at first. She glanced to her right, then swept her gaze around the room to her left. When she caught sight of Allan, her green eyes grew bigger than big.

She appeared terrified, and why wouldn’t she be?
What if she remembered being struck and thought he was the one who had done the terrible deed? What if she thought he’d taken her hostage?

His mouth grew dryer than a summer drought in Texas.
He cleared his throat. He hadn’t been that tongue-tied since he’d wanted to ask the teen of his dreams to the prom. Despite his regret, the time had come to go into his acting mode.

“How are you feeling, Jenny?”

She pulled her comforter higher under her chin.

Afraid he’d alarm her even more, h
e didn’t make a move toward the bed. “Jenny?”

“Who are you?” she whispered.
She sounded really scared and again, he was reminded, he didn’t like this assignment.

He couldn’t say it.
I’m your husband
. Just three little words. And damn it, he was a trained professional, but he couldn’t do it.

“Did I hear Jenny come to?” Dale asked, stepping into the room.

Great
. The boss had ordered Dale to stick to Allan like a windbreaker glued to a body on a windy day. Garcia knew Allan well enough to realize he needed a backup for a time, until everyone’s role in relation to Jenny was well-established. Allan still fought playing the role and didn’t want his best friend pushing him farther into the pit of no return against his wishes.

Her gaze shifted to Dale.

He winked at her. “Your husband has been quite worried about you. Allan, can’t you do better than that? Give your wife a peck on the cheek or something?”

Dale was enjoying this a little too much.
Allan could have slugged him.

Walking over
to the bed, Dale leaned over, and gave Jenny a kiss on the cheek. She drew back away from him. “Dale Smith, Allan’s best friend, if you don’t remember. You’ve had a bit of amnesia from that knock on the head you got. But the doctor said you’d get your memory back, given time.” He motioned toward the kitchen. “I’ll heat a can of chicken soup up for you, if you’d like.”

“I...I’m not married.”

“Yeah, that’s what the doctor said you’d say. But it’ll all come back after a while.” He raised a brow at Allan. “I’ll return in a jif, so don’t get too frisky with her in the meantime. You know what the doctor said.”

Yeah, the Agency doctor and his boss both said to do whatever it took to play his part, and in doing so, keep her safe.
But he had no intention of taking it anywhere, if he could help it.

“Where...”
She tried to sit up further. Allan hurried over to the bed, grabbed the spare pillow, then slid it behind her back. “Thank you. Where are we?”

“Grand Cayman Island
.”

She stared at him, seemingly trying to sort out her confusion.
“I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember you. Or that other man...or...”

He patted her hand, the guilt filling his system.
“It’ll all come back to you.” When it did, he’d be relieved of his job as a newlywed. Thank God. Then he’d act as her bodyguard until they caught the slimy bastard. “I’ll check with Dale to see if he needs any help.”

When he reached the door, she asked, “Have we been married long?”

“Newlyweds. Married two days.”

The Agency felt the less time he said they’d been together, the more likely she’d believe the situation.
They hadn’t wanted him pretending to be a bodyguard in the interim. They worried she’d want to return home and cause a real scene if they didn’t permit it. Keeping a woman hostage, even for her own safety, wasn’t one of their missions.

“And we were engaged for how long?”

“Whirlwind romance. One month.”

Her lips rose slightly.
“I didn’t realize I was that impulsive.” Then she frowned and her eyes watered. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

Her tears unsettled him.
He fought reaching out to her and pulling her close. Steeling his back instead, he tried to figure out her line of reasoning. “Sorry for what?”

“That I don’t remember you.”

“We’ll…we’ll remedy that.” He meant only as far as he’d help her to get her memory back. Not to add new memories to the charade.

Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips.
Did she want him to kiss her? He sure as hell wanted to oblige. But not the way he was about to do. He crossed the floor, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. It was to be expected. They were newlyweds after all.

She reached out and grasped his hand.
The tears threatened to spill from her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she choked out.

He’d never expected this.
She was sorry for not remembering their relationship that didn’t truly exist, and he felt lower than dirt. He gave her a light embrace, hoping to settle her upset, but when she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed hard, he nearly lost it.