Trap, Secure

Tomlinson gestured to the gaping French doors leading to a dark balcony. “The only doors in the house left open.”

“Maybe Zendaris spirited the kids away through the window.”

“Maybe he had to grab something from that balcony.”

On his way to the French doors, Gage trod on a book. He bent over to pick it up. He ran his index finger along the well-worn, gold-leaf cover. “Fairy tales. Yeah, those kids aren’t going to be living any fairy-tale life with that maniac.”

He tossed the book onto a deep-cushioned chair and spotted a gauzy pink scarf hanging over the back of it. He plucked up the scarf with two fingers. The gold threads woven into the material caught the light, and the scarf shimmered in his hands. Some instinct drove him to raise the scarf to his face. An exotic, musky scent tickled his nostrils and he inhaled deeply.

Definitely not a perfume for a young girl. Maybe Zendaris had a twentysomething-year-old daughter. Gage didn’t even know if Zendaris was old enough to have a daughter in her twenties. He crumpled the scarf in his fist and shoved it into the pocket of his fatigues.

A radio crackled and Tomlinson jumped to attention. Captain Denny’s voice boomed into the room. “Out of the house, Tomlinson. Now. We’re meeting at the front of the house.”

“Yes, sir!” He backed up to the door leading to the hallway. “I’ll leave it to you, Booker.”

“Thanks, Tomlinson. Good job tonight.”

Gage clumped onto the dark balcony. The border around the balcony was low enough to sit on—not the safest setup for kids. But then having an arms-dealing father wasn’t the safest setup for kids, either.

In an attempt to add a measure of safety to the low wall, someone had tacked up a wooden border.

Gage’s nostrils flared. A portion of the border had broken away. He crept toward the edge of the balcony and fingered one of the pieces of wood. This was a recent break.

He leaned over the balcony and his heart slammed against his rib cage. A figure, crumpled on the ground, was inching toward the grass from the flagstones.

“You there—halt!”

The blackness of the night obscured his vision, and he strained to make out whether the person had a weapon. “Stop!”

The figure continued to crawl forward, and Gage patted his pockets for a flashlight. He’d left it out on the patio and had parked his radio in the kitchen. He scanned the yard, but the Green Berets had congregated in the front of the house.

He swung his weapon in front of his body. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”

Still the form eased forward like a snake on its belly.

Gage blew out a breath. At the rate the guy was moving, he’d never make it to the wall before Gage got down there. And once at the wall, he wouldn’t be able to do anything, anyway.

Unless he had a weapon.

Hoisting his own gun, Gage scrambled back through the room and jogged down the staircase. Captain Denny’s voice bellowed from the front of the house. The mysterious, crawling figure would never be able to circle to the front of the house, but the crawling could be an act.

Gage made a quick detour to the kitchen where he swept his radio from the counter. He strode across the hallway, crunching through the broken glass.

He burst through the doors leading to the back patio and ran onto the lawn, veering toward the left where he’d seen the figure from the balcony. He squinted into the gloom. The clouds had moved over the small slice of moon again, throwing this side of the compound into total darkness. The other side of the house boasted all the light and activity.

The humidity sucked the air from his lungs. He pulled in another breath and wiped his sleeve across his sweating brow, his gaze crisscrossing the lawn in front of the balcony with the broken railing.

A moan filtered through the air, and the hair on the back of Gage’s neck stood at attention. His feet followed the sound, closer to the flagstones than he’d expected. The guy must’ve stopped crawling.

Gage slogged through the damp grass and froze. Seems the man had found the strength to stand, after all. A white oval lifted and dark pools peered at him.

He aimed his gun at the person’s head. “Hold it. Do you have any weapons?”

The small-statured man extended his arm toward Gage, and Gage’s finger tightened on the trigger of his carbine. “Don’t make any sudden moves. I’ve got a weapon pointed at you.”

The figure took a few jerky steps, dropping his arm to his side.

Gage pushed the button on the radio. “Captain Denny, I need light at the back of the house. There’s someone out here.”

Denny answered. “Ten-four.”

Motioning toward the man with his weapon, Gage said, “I have reinforcements. Put your hands behind your head and drop to your knees.”

The man wavered and his arms dangled at his sides. Seconds later, several soldiers charged around the corner from the front of the house, coming up behind Gage. They drew up beside him and aimed their powerful spotlights at the figure swaying on the lawn.

Gage’s jaw dropped as the beams of light illuminated a...woman.

The woman blinked. She raised an arm to her face, resting the back of her wrist on her forehead, covering her eyes.

The soldier on one side of Gage cursed, and the soldier on the other side muttered unnecessarily, “It’s a chick.”

Gage stole forward, leading with his M4. “Don’t reach for any weapons, or I’ll shoot.”

Hell, for all he knew, the woman could be a trained assassin. If she lived in this compound, her loyalty lay with Zendaris. He could even be face-to-face with Zendaris’s mistress. Their intelligence had indicated Zendaris kept multiple lovers.

His nerve endings buzzed. If they could capture one of Zendaris’s girlfriends and grill her, there’s no telling how much information she could give them.

His step lightened as he drew closer and verified the woman didn’t have anything in her hands and no indication of a weapon—at least none that he could see. Her slim, black slacks hugged her hips and legs and her dark-colored blouse stirred in the gentle breeze. How could he have ever thought she was a man?

“Put your hands in the air where I can see them.” He moved within steps of her, so close he could smell the perfume he’d noticed on the scarf—exotic, hypnotic.

She tilted her head and a dark ponytail slid over her shoulder. Still, she didn’t speak. She lifted the hand from her forehead and raised it, palm out.

Gage drew in a quick breath as he noticed the blood streaked across her face. “You’re injured.”

She nodded once and pitched forward.

Gage dropped his weapon where it hung over his shoulder and swooped in before she hit the ground, catching her beneath the arms. Her head bobbed against his belly, and her knees buckled, swaying inches above the wet grass.

He hitched her into his arms, cradling her head. His fingers met a sticky patch of blood matting her hair on one side. He shouted to the soldiers standing in a semicircle, gaping. “Medical. Who has the medical supplies?”

“We’ll set up something on the back patio, sir.”

The men sprang into action and by the time Gage arrived at the patio with the woman clutched to his chest, the soldiers had already set up a stretcher, water and the contents of a first-aid kit, all illuminated by two spotlights.

He laid the woman on the stretcher, and she pinned him with her wide, dark eyes. “W-who are you?”

Did she mean in general or him specifically? She had to know they were U.S. Military come calling for her...lover.

“I’m Gage Booker and these men are from the U.S. Army Special Forces, but then you probably already know that. Why did they leave you behind?”

Her eyes clouded over and her lashes fluttered. “I don’t know.”

One of the soldiers nudged him aside. “I’m the medic on this assignment, Booker, but stay close to assist me.”

Gage moved aside, a jumble of emotions churning in his gut as he watched Perkins clean and dress the woman’s head wound. How had a pretty, young woman like this wound up in Zendaris’s clutches? Then he scoffed at himself. That’s just it: pretty and young. What else did Zendaris need? And she’d probably grown accustomed to the lifestyle he’d offered—until he ditched her.

“Hello.” Perkins ripped the sleeve from the woman’s blouse and pointed to her arm. “This is a flesh wound from a bullet. Just creased the skin.”

The woman turned her head and glanced at the ripped flesh on her arm like she was examining a cut of beef at the market.

“How’d you get that?” As far as Gage knew, no shots had been fired other than the initial volley when they’d taken the men at the outer wall.

Captain Denny loomed over the scene. “Has she given you any information yet?”

Perkins shook his head. “She’s in shock, sir.”

After Perkins tended to the bullet wound and bandaged the gash on her head, he turned away to pack up the supplies.

Gage held a bottle of water to the woman’s lips and she drank deeply. “Do you have any other injuries?”

“No.”

Gage helped her to a sitting position and ran his hands along the smooth skin of her arms, back and legs. She sported a few nasty abrasions, but she didn’t wince at his touch and he didn’t see any more blood. She’d obviously fallen from that balcony and hit her head, but how’d she get the gunshot wound?

If he hoped to get any information from her, she’d have to start talking.

“Booker, we’re heading out. Our mission’s complete.”

Gage stood up and saluted Captain Denny. “Thank you for your assistance, sir.”

The captain eyed the woman sitting on the stretcher. “You’ll take it from here?”

“I’ve got it.”

“We’re exiting through the front gates. It’s a straight shot to the choppers from there.”

Perkins snapped the first-aid kit shut and placed it on a table. “I’ll leave this with you. Don’t let her fall asleep. She probably suffered a concussion, and she’s still in shock. Make sure she stays warm, even in this climate.”

“I’ll be taking her to a hospital just to get her checked out.”

“That’s a good idea.” Perkins pressed a bottle of pills into Gage’s hand. “Have her take one of these twice a day—antibiotics, so her wounds don’t get infected, and make sure she gets a tetanus shot when you get her to the hospital.”

Gage shook the bottle of pills. “Thanks, Perkins.”

The Green Berets left Zendaris’s compound with a lot less fanfare than when they arrived, turning the mission over to him.

At least the raid hadn’t been a complete failure. He’d be leaving Colombia with a prized witness—one of Zendaris’s mistresses.

He crouched next to the stretcher, and the woman took another swig of water. Her cheeks sported new color and her dark eyes had lost their glassiness.

He shook a pill into his hand. “Take this.”

She plucked the pill from his palm and downed it with her next gulp of water.

“I’m going to take you to a doctor. Perkins is okay in a pinch, but we’ll see if you need further medical treatment.” He tilted his chin toward her battered body. “Who did this to you?”

Her long, dark lashes swept her cheeks. “I don’t know.”

Zendaris had picked himself a real beauty. Why wouldn’t he just take her with him? Maybe he’d never been in residence here, and his henchmen left her behind.

“I know you’re not feeling great, but I need to ask you some questions...before we leave.” Gage swallowed. He’d always found it difficult interrogating women. Made him feel like a bully. But he hoped he’d made it clear that he wasn’t taking her anywhere until she answered his questions about Zendaris.

“Do you want to sit in this chair?” He slid his hand beneath her arm and helped her to her feet.

She took the two steps to the chair without wavering and perched on the end.

He pointed to a blanket one of the soldiers had stripped off a bed upstairs. “Are you cold?”

She raised a pair of sculpted, dark eyebrows. “It’s about eighty degrees out here.”

Gage grinned, feeling some tension seep from his shoulders. That was the most words she’d strung together all night—and she’d even made a small joke.

“I guess it’s the shock. Perkins said you might get the chills.”

“I’m fine.”

Dragging another chair close to hers, he said, “Okay, let’s get started. I’m Gage Booker. What’s your name?”

“I don’t know.”

Prickles of anger needled his flesh. So she was going to play it like that, huh?

“This can be easy, or this can be hard, Miss Idontknow.”

She blinked and a small sigh escaped her luscious lips.

Gage bit the inside of his cheek. If he focused on her attractiveness, he’d never get through this. She’d probably used her looks to get out of all kinds of scrapes. But not this time. He pinned his shoulders to the back of his chair.

“You think that’s going to save you? If you’ve been out here...consorting with Zendaris, we can bring you down, too. Make no mistake about it. Where is he? Where is Zendaris? What does he look like? I’m sure you’ve seen the real Zendaris—in the flesh.”

His lips twisted into a sneer because the woman’s eyes had grown bigger and bigger with each question until they took up half her face.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, right. You’ve been with him...how long? How do you think he financed this lavish lifestyle? Did he lay some jewels on you? Some designer duds? Give it up, sweetheart, just like you gave it up to Zendaris. Where is he?”

Her full bottom lip trembled, and a big tear splashed onto her cheek.

Gage swept off his black beanie and raked a hand through his hair. Great. He’d made a woman cry—the last thing he ever wanted to do. But the woman in front of him was no damsel in distress. She had to know Zendaris’s business and that made her complicit in all the death and destruction that business engendered.

“Look, this will go easier on you if you just cooperate.”

She licked her lips, catching the tear on her tongue. “I’d like to help you. I really would, but I can’t.”

Hunching forward, he braced his hands on his knees. “If you’re afraid for your life, we can protect you. We’ll give you a new identity.”

She smiled then, a tremulous smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “That would be nice because I don’t even have an old identity.”

He narrowed his eyes. What kind of trick was she playing now? “What are you talking about?”

She spread her hands. “I don’t know who I am. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know this Zendaris person. In fact, I have no memory at all.”

Chapter Three

The man’s eyes were slits now—aquamarine slits. How could someone’s eyes be so blue? But they were hard and cold. He didn’t believe her. She didn’t blame him.

He threw his head back and laughed. She shivered. His laugh was as cold as his eyes.

“You want me to believe you have no memory? You don’t know your name or who you are or what you’re doing on Nico Zendaris’s compound?”

She put a hand to her head and traced the bandage there. “I don’t want you to believe anything. That’s the truth, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

The man, Gage, jumped up from the lawn chair, knocking it to the ground. Then he swung around and jabbed a finger in her face. “This could go very badly for you.”

“Too late.” She covered her face with her hands.

She heard him shuffling on the patio, and as she peered at him through her fingers, he righted the chair. He took a seat across from her again, his knees touching hers.

“What do you remember?”

“Does this mean you believe me?”

“Thought you said that didn’t matter to you?”

She’d lied. If he believed her he’d help her, and God knows she needed help. If he didn’t believe her, he’d still help her, at least physically, but his eyes would remain cold every time he looked at her.

“The first thing I remember is coming to on those flagstones. My head hurt, my arm hurt. A strong impulse to get away overwhelmed me, so I started crawling.”

“Was anyone around you? Did you see anything or anyone?”

“No. I heard shouting from somewhere, but I now know those were your marines.”

“Green Berets, and they’re not mine.”

She shrugged and pain shot through her upper left arm. The man who’d treated her said she’d been grazed by a bullet. Why would anyone be shooting at her?

“Are you okay?” Gage half rose from his chair.

So he did care—a little bit. “It’s my arm. My head’s throbbing, too, so if that Green Beret left any ibuprofen in that case, I’ll take some.”

He slid the first-aid kit from the table and popped it open. He sorted through some small envelopes and pulled one free. “You’re in luck.”

He ripped the pack open for her and she downed two gel capsules.

“You don’t know Zendaris or what you’re doing here?”

“I don’t even know my own name. That other name means nothing to me. I don’t even know where I am.”

The impact of her statement sent a rush of nausea to the pit of her stomach, and she doubled over.

“You’re not well.”

“Would you be well if you woke up with no memory and a gunshot wound? Where am I? Who’s Zendaris?”

Her hands had been fluttering in front of her, and he captured them between his. “You’re in Colombia, not far from Barranquilla—at least that’s the nearest big city.”

Barranquilla. “Yo conozco Barranquilla. I know Barranquilla. I—I speak Spanish.”

He studied her with those blue eyes. Were they melting a little around the edges?

“Nico Zendaris is...a bad person.”

“What were you and your friends doing here? Were you going to arrest him?”

“Was he here to arrest?”

She closed her eyes. He still didn’t believe her. “How would I know that?”

He cocked his head, and a lock of brown hair fell over one eye. “Aren’t you curious to know what you were doing in the home of a man like Zendaris? A man who could inspire a raid by the U.S. Army Special Forces?”

“I’m curious about everything. Like why didn’t you leave with the others? Why did they defer to you when that other man, that captain, was obviously in charge of the military guys?”

The line of Gage’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like her questions. He liked her tears better, her sighs, her weakness. Tough. She couldn’t afford to be weak. She had to figure out who she was, what she was doing here and what Gage Booker wanted with her.

“That’s my business, and I’m not about to tell a potential criminal.”

“Can you help me figure out who I am?”

“Oh, I’ll help you. And once you get your memory back, if in fact you ever lost it, I’m going to proceed to pick your brain.”

“That’s something to look forward to.” She put on a sweet smile, even though it hurt her head to do so.

He snatched a full bottle of water from the table and downed half of it. “You’re Nico Zendaris’s lover.”

If he’d intended to shock her with his words, he’d be disappointed. She had no memory of being anyone’s lover and until she did, she’d take no responsibility for what that entailed.

“If you’re so certain I’m Zendaris’s girlfriend, why don’t you know my name?”

“Because we know very little about the man. We don’t even know what he looks like.” Reaching over, he dragged the black backpack toward his feet. He rummaged through the pack, pulled out a file folder and slipped a photograph from the folder. He dropped the picture on the table.

“This,” he tapped the picture with his finger, “is you.”

She hunched forward, squinting at the grainy color image of a man with a bushy mustache, sunglasses and a blue baseball cap, his arm around a tall, slim brunette.

She pulled back with a start, knocking over her bottle of water. Gage snatched the picture away from the spill.

“What’s wrong? That is you, isn’t it?”

“How the hell do I know?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t even know what I look like.”

He searched her face, his blue gaze tracking across each of her features. “Against my better judgment, I’m beginning to believe you.”

He shoved back from his chair—this time it stayed upright—and extended his hand to her. “Come with me.”

What choice did she have at this point? She placed her hand in his, and when he curled his fingers around hers, a warm current flowed through her body. His touch felt like the only lifeline she had.

He snatched up his folder and led her into the house. The tiles felt cool against the soles of her bare feet. As she gazed at the crystal chandelier dripping from the high ceiling, Gage pulled her toward an ornate mirror gracing the hallway.

Turning her toward the mirror and standing behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. Her gaze scanned the woman in the reflection. Large, dark eyes stared back at her from a mocha-tinted face framed by wisps of brown hair coming loose from a ponytail. She knew Spanish because she obviously had some Latin blood.

Her eyes met his in the mirror. His gaze still held suspicions, doubts.

He held up the photo to the mirror. “Could be you, right?”

“He has his arm around the woman. Does that make her his girlfriend?”

He fumbled in the file folder he’d placed on a side table and withdrew another photo, same quality. In this photo, the man had the woman in a tight embrace, laying a passionate kiss on her lips.

She exhaled. “I see what you mean, but I’m sure there are lots of tall brunettes in the world.”

“Wearing this?” He dug into the pocket of his camos and pulled out a scarf with silver spangles threaded through it. He waved it next to the picture, and she noticed the woman in the picture sporting something similar around her neck.

“Where did you get that? I wasn’t wearing it when you found me.” She folded her arms across her chest and turned away from the mirror. She didn’t want to be some bad guy’s girlfriend. She didn’t feel like a bad guy’s girlfriend. Was he a drug dealer?

He jabbed his finger in the air. “I found this upstairs, right before I spotted you from the balcony. You must’ve been in that room, and left your scarf before trying to escape.”

“Who said I was trying to escape? Maybe someone pushed me. Someone obviously shot me.” Despite the warm night, a rash of goose bumps pebbled across her skin, and she hugged herself tighter. “I want to see this room.”

“Follow me.” He placed a booted foot on the first step of the curved staircase and reached out his hand to her. “Are you feeling okay? You look pale.”

“The ibuprofen helped the pain. Now I just want to know who I am.” She placed her hand in his. He must still be worried that she’d make a run for it, but the idea of running made her head spin even more.

They continued up the stairs, and she left her hand in his. She didn’t feel physically wobbly, but emotionally she was about to crack.

She gasped as she followed Gage into the room. Turning in a circle, she drank in the bright colors and cheery furniture. “This is a children’s playroom.”

“Yep.”

Picking up a book of fairy tales, she traced the edge with her finger. “Does this Zendaris have children?”

“We don’t know, but it sure looks like it.”

“Unless this room is for the children of his staff. This is a big place. He must support a lot of people living here.”

Gage gestured around the well-appointed room. “Seems kind of lavish for the staff, doesn’t it?”

She swallowed a painful lump. “Do you think Zendaris could have children with his...girlfriend?”

Gage’s eyebrows snapped together as if it had never occurred to him that she might be the mother of Zendaris’s children.

Her knees felt shaky and she sank into the armchair. Something about this room stirred emotions deep within her, plucked at her heartstrings. Could she be a mother?

She flipped open the cover of the book still clutched in her hand. Her fingers traced over some words in Spanish. “Look.”