Run to Me (31 page)

“Yes.”

“Why would I marry Ethan’s best friend?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.”

She shook her head in denial. “There’s got to be more to this.”

“With your memory loss, I guess Ethan’s the only one who knows the real truth.”

Her eyes closed for a second. Like she needed a reminder of how much Ethan had kept from her. She twisted sideways to face Gabe. “Did you ever ask Ethan what happened?”

“Yeah, once. He said it was the right thing for you to do. He looked like hell… . You sure did a number on him.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe you only saw what you wanted to. You seem to have a skewed opinion of women. Did your prejudice blind you to what you didn’t want to see?”

“I’m not prejudiced against women.”

A soft snort. “Yeah … right.”

“Ethan stopped caring whether he lived or not. He was a wild man … took the craziest chances. After Cole was killed, it got worse. He was on the edge. If Noah hadn’t reined him in, he’d be dead by now.”

She didn’t like to think about that. No matter how much he’d hurt her, she couldn’t bear thinking about anything happening to Ethan. She also didn’t want to believe that she could be so heartless as to marry her lover’s best friend. What had possessed her?

“I know it was a sting to get Rosemount, but how did Cole die?”

“I wasn’t there, so I only know from the reports of the other operatives. Cole defied a direct order from Ethan to wait for backup. He ran into a building … and it blew up. Ethan blamed himself.”

“Why would he blame himself if Cole ignored his order?”

“Beats the hell out of me. You blamed Ethan, too.”

“I did? How do you know?”

“At Cole’s memorial service, you slapped Ethan, told him he was responsible.”

Shea covered her face with her hands. “Oh God, how that must have hurt him.”

Gabe shot her a quick glance. “You still love him?”

Even after what she’d just discovered she couldn’t deny the truth. “Yes, I love him.”

After several seconds of silence, Gabe continued, “A few months after Cole’s death, you disappeared. LCR operatives are free agents. We just assumed you were taking some personal time to grieve. Next thing we know, you’re kidnapping women for Rosemount.”

She rubbed the center of her forehead, where a small pain throbbed. “I still don’t know how Rosemount got to me … or how I got to him.” After a few moments of silence, she said, “Tell me about Cole.”

“Only met him a couple of times. I was working most of my ops in South America back then. I know that after Cole trained in Paris, he started working on Ethan’s team. I went on an extended mission. When I came back, you and Cole were married.”

“Just like that?”

“That’s the way it seemed.”

“How long were you away?”

“Six months.”

She gazed out the window, her mind searching and grasping for memories. For just one infinitesimal reminder of the man she’d called husband. There was nothing. “I don’t remember him.”

“If this drug works, you’ll remember it all.”

“Yes, I suppose I will.”

An ache in her hand made her look down. She was clutching the sketchbook so hard the spiral binding was biting into her skin. Flipping it open, Shea turned to one of the pages where she had sketched the man she now knew was Cole Mathison, her husband.

Eyes squinted in concentration, she stared at the chiseled face of the man she’d been married to … been intimate with. With his striking good looks, he should be impossible to forget. Glacier-blue eyes, square, determined jaw, hawklike nose, and thick, dark hair. If she closed her eyes, she could see his face. But who he was and what he’d meant to her was still a deep, black hole of nothingness.

She couldn’t even feel grief for him. Ethan had told her he was one of the finest men he’d ever known. And he’d told Gabe she had done the right thing to marry him. This man had most likely been a good, decent person. And she’d been his wife.

Alarm pounded as Shea became scared of getting her memories back for a whole new reason. Had she been the kind of woman to pit two men against each other? Had she broken not one but two men’s hearts?

She had never imagined that recalling her time with Rosemount might not be the worst thing she could remember. What kind of person had she been?

They would come for him today. He’d heard them whispering yesterday. Excitement in their voices, making plans for him. Several of the doctors and soldiers had gathered at the other end of the room. They thought he couldn’t hear them or couldn’t comprehend their hushed conversation. He couldn’t hear all of it, but he heard enough to know that the time had come for him to act. They believed he was still weak and unable to fight as before. They were wrong.

For weeks, when the sheets were draped over his cage, he worked like a madman to build up his strength. While the idiots slept in their soft, warm beds dreaming their dreams of evil, he was wide-awake and planning their death and destruction.

He had learned to act weak and defenseless and felt a fierce sense of satisfaction that he had been able to fool them. They believed he was controllable, manageable. They would learn the truth just before they breathed their last breath.

Last night, after he had completed his workout regimen of push-ups, chin-ups, and crunches, he had taken his weapon and ripped a small hole in the fabric that covered his cage. Now he would wait. Today would be the day. He could feel it in his bones. The bastards would try to inject their demon drugs into him, once again creating the animal-like monster whose only mission was to destroy. Little did they know, their drugs were no longer necessary. They had the monster they wanted. What they didn’t realize was that the monster would destroy them, not their enemies.

He sat in the corner of the cage, empty except for a sleeping pallet and a bedpan. Until a few days ago, he’d resigned himself to using only his hands to wreak his vengeance. Since he’d relied only on his hands in the past, he knew he’d be able to take down three, maybe four, before they killed him. Fate had stepped in with the arrival of a new recruit. A young man named Raphael, who couldn’t be much older than seventeen, had been given the task of feeding him.

He’d grown used to being hand-fed through the bars of his cage. Had learned to open his mouth and accept what nourishment they provided, knowing that if he didn’t, he couldn’t be strong enough to do what needed to be done. But Raphael seemed to have a problem with this.

At first, seeing the kid’s hesitation had infuriated him. He’d thought the boy’s reaction had been disgust, but after the roar of cold fury in his head calmed down, he’d begun to listen to young Raphael’s mutterings.

“Treat you like an animal … must make them pay. I’ll help you.”

And then Raphael had given him a gift. Just as he’d finished spooning the last of the meal into his charge’s mouth, he’d handed him a paper napkin. Inside that napkin had been another spoon. As weapons went, it was piss-poor, but it was a gift he’d never expected.

After the kid shuffled off, carrying the empty tray, the sheet was once more put in place. And then he’d begun his work. Sitting in his corner, he sawed night after night with that spoon against the bars of his cage. Though it was still a crude weapon, he’d worn it down to a sharp point. Sharp enough to slice open throats and stab soft bellies.

Now when they came for him, he would be ready. He would die … he knew that. His only thought, his only worry, was … how many could he take with him?

A soft sound alerted him that he was no longer alone. Was this it? He peered through the hole in the draping. Yes, there were only three of them, plus two doctors. His mouth curved upward and he couldn’t resist putting his fingers on his lips, tracing what he knew was a smile. It felt strange and unusual, but good.

They crept toward his cage, most likely believing he was still sleeping. Though adrenaline surged and spewed like lava within him, he forced himself to lie down and wait quietly. The instant he heard the drapery being lifted, his eyes closed. His right hand, hidden under his thigh, held his weapon. His left hand lay on his stomach. The key turned in the lock, and the door made a soft squeak. He held his breath and heard their breathing. Heard the soft shuffle of their feet as they came closer and closer. And then they were beside him.

He sprang up. One hand swung out and jammed a fist into the throat of one man. His other hand gripping his weapon, he sliced into the soft sweet spot of another man’s neck, severing his jugular. A third man roared toward him. He waited until the last second; then one powerful leg kicked up, knocking the man in the face and sending him soaring across the cage.

Breathing out ragged breaths, he stood and looked around him. All three were dead or dying. Only two remained. They stood frozen before him, as if stupefied … the doctors … the two he wanted most, almost as much as he wanted the head demon himself. He’d resigned himself to not being able to get the leader. If he got rid of these two, getting the leader was a real possibility.

He advanced toward the two terrified men and they finally went into action, running from the cage. He burst through the cage door and immediately felt a sharp sting in his shoulder. With a roar, he turned. The demon leader. The man he wanted to kill more than anyone stood beside the cage, a dart gun in his hand and a smile of delight on his thin face. He jumped up and down in excitement. “I knew it. I knew it. I told them you were faking. I was right!”

Laughter bounced against the walls, grew louder and louder. Pain speared through him. Grabbing his head, he screamed in agony. The evil face in front of him melted and blurred.

With the desperate cry of a helpless animal, he fell face-first onto the hard tile. His last thought was the terrible knowledge that once again, he would be the monster they wanted.

The lights were soft in the small sitting room, dimmed in preparation for her treatment. Shea took a trembling breath as nerves clawed at her insides and dread and anticipation clashed.

Part of her wanted to just get this over with, while another part wanted to run from the room as fast and far as possible. Her nails dug into the arms of the leather recliner. She was determined to see this through, no matter how cowardly she felt.

Dr. Norton sat across from her, his kind face wreathed in wrinkles of concern. She twisted to get more comfortable, willing her body to relax as she listened to the doctor’s warnings and instructions.

“Your memories won’t return all at once. We’re just giving you a small dosage until we see what kind of effect it’s going to have on you. Once I know it’s not adverse, we’ll increase the dosage.”

He gave an absentminded glance at his watch and then a quick glance at the door. Before she could ask him if someone else was coming, he said, “Don’t be disappointed if you don’t have an explosion of knowledge.”

That was a good thing. The thought of having knowledge of all of the things she’d forgotten slamming down on her at one time tightened the knots in her churning stomach. “But they’ll all come back at some point, right?”

“Yes, we believe so, though it may take a few weeks. Since it could take some time, I’m going to show you how to inject yourself. I would caution you against doing it when no one’s around.”

“Why?”

“If you have a particularly bad flashback, it would be best to have someone around. The most traumatic ones should be vague. You’ll still remember them, but they won’t be as vivid. You shouldn’t experience the fear or feel any pain.”

She nodded, relieved to be spared that, at least.

Dr. Norton checked his watch again and bit his lip. He seemed unusually nervous.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, of course.” He cleared his throat. “There’s something I feel I need to explain. I understand from Gabe that Ethan hadn’t told you about your husband.”

This was definitely something she didn’t want to discuss with Dr. Norton. “That’s true, but I don’t—”

“Now. Now. Hear me out. I know that must have hurt, but remember, I told you that hearing disturbing things about your past before you remembered them on your own could cause damage. Ethan was only trying to protect you. See, it’s really my fault. You shouldn’t blame—”

“Thanks, Doc, but Shea knows exactly who’s responsible.”

Jerking her head up, she stared at the tall, commanding figure standing in the doorway.

Dr. Norton stood. “Now, Ethan, I did tell you not—”

“You also told me that once she regained her health and appeared to be handling her memories well, I should tell her. That was weeks ago. No one’s at fault other than me.”

Shea scrambled to her feet. Despite the way her heartbeat had tripled in speed at seeing him, she wasn’t ready to talk with him. “I don’t want to hear any excuses, Ethan. Please leave.”

His mouth tilted in that slightly crooked way that always made her want to kiss him, but his eyes remained resolute. “No. You may not want to talk to me, but you have a right to hear the truth. And you deserve to hear it from me.” He gestured at the chair. “Sit down.”

Shea was so focused on Ethan, she hadn’t even realized they were alone. Dr. Norton had disappeared.

He blew out a sigh when she didn’t move. “I know you’re angry with me. You can’t be angrier than I am with myself. But before you put yourself through this, I wanted to come clean with you.”

“It’s too late. You should have—”

“I know I should have, Shea.” He shoved his fingers through his hair. “Let me do something right and decent, just this once, okay?”

She dropped back into her chair. “Fine.”

“Everything I’ve told you, with the exception of telling you about Cole, is true. We met a few months after I started working for LCR. We studied and trained together. We became lovers and then partners. When we weren’t on assignment, we lived in an apartment in New Orleans.

“Being with you was the best thing that had ever happened to me. After Abby died, I never felt I deserved happiness. I focused on the present … tried not to think about the future. Everything was fine until you started talking about getting married and having kids. At that point, I knew it was time for us to part. I couldn’t give you the future you deserved.”