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A Man Worth Remembering
A Man Worth Remembering
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A Man Worth Remembering

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That shouldn’t have happened. What the devil had he been thinking when he put his mouth on hers? That was just it—he hadn’t thought. He’d acted. Reacted. And much to his disgust, he’d even enjoyed it. He couldn’t let it happen again, not with so much at stake.

Easy to say. Hard to do.

It was especially hard since she was right behind him. She had her arms wrapped around his waist—apparently holding on for dear life. No surprise there. Leigh hated motorcycles.

Of course, she probably hated him, too.

He wouldn’t mention that to her yet. If she was faking this amnesia, then she already knew how she felt about him. If her memory loss was real, it would be a stupid time to remind her of their past.

Gabe drove nearly two hours before he stopped. Until then, he stayed on narrow dirt roads, using only the moonlight to keep him out of the ditches. When he finally found familiar ground, he pulled the motorcycle into a clutter of trees and turned off the engine.

“Any idea where we are?” Leigh asked, climbing off the seat. She massaged her backside and made a few sounds of discomfort.

He got off, too, and stretched. “Between Baton Rouge and New Orleans.” Actually, they were still very close to New Orleans, but he’d taken the most circuitous route to get there. Hopefully, that had given Jinx enough time to get a few things under control. If not, then it would be one long night.

“Are we safe here?”

Gabe glanced around at the dense brush. “Hopefully.”

“You don’t sound hopeful.”

He shrugged. “Guarantees are a rare thing in life, Leigh, but we’re a heck of lot safer here than we were back at that clinic.”

She stayed quiet a moment. “And you don’t believe those men will follow us here?”

“No.” Well, he was almost certain they wouldn’t anyway. Getting to this particular area of the bayou wasn’t easy unless a person knew the way. He knew the way. God willing, the gunmen didn’t.

“So, is this the part when you tell me what’s really going on?” she asked.

Gabe groaned. He didn’t want to play a question-and-answer game tonight. Keep her alive. Catch the bad guys. Oh yeah, and, Be nice to her. At no time had anyone said a thing about answering her questions.

“You know what’s going on,” Gabe briskly assured her. “Some gunmen came after us, and we got away.”

“There’s more to it than that. How about letting me in on who those men are and why they want to kill us?”

“That, mi vida, is the big question of the day.”

“Are you saying you don’t know who’s behind this?” She didn’t wait for him to confirm that. “That breach of security at the clinic didn’t happen by itself. And who’s to blame for that, huh? Who was in charge of guarding the place?”

Gabe spat out some profanity. “The FBI.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Your own people? Well, that’s just great.”

It didn’t exactly please Gabe either, but the breach hadn’t necessarily come from anyone in the Bureau, especially not from Jinx. It could have been an outside source. In other words, he still had nothing definite. Gabe didn’t like that. He wanted something definite.

“Come on,” he insisted. “We need to get moving.”

“On foot?”

“Well, since there’s deep mud ahead, and the motorcycle would get stuck, I don’t see any other way.” And with that, he took her gun, put it in the waist of his jeans and snagged her around the hips. Like a caveman claiming his woman, he tossed her over his shoulder.

“Hey! What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Leigh complained.

Gabe began to walk, keeping the same pace he would have had she not been on his shoulder. “Carrying you.”

She wiggled, squirmed and otherwise tried to twist her way out of his grip. “Put me down!”

“No can do. You have stitches in your ankle, remember? Now, let’s see if I can recall basic first aid.” He pretended to think about it. “By now, those stitches have probably worked their way partially loose, so you have an open wound. Add to that some of this sloppy, wormy mud, and I see the potential for a really nasty infection. What do you think?” He didn’t let her answer. “I don’t have time to take you to the doctor, so be still.”

Just like that, Leigh stopped struggling, and her body practically went limp against him. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that other than traipsing through a swamp, you actually have a plan?”

He made his way around a large cypress tree and its kneelike roots that stood almost a foot above the ground. “I have one, but I don’t feel especially good about it.”

Keep her alive. Catch the bad guys. Nope, he didn’t feel good about that plan at all. It definitely lacked the necessary components for a successful mission.

“It’d be a heck of a lot easier if you just had your memory,” Gabe let her know. “Are you sure you’re not faking this amnesia?”

“No, I’m not faking it. You’ve already asked me that. Besides, why would I fake something like this?”

He could think of a reason. Leigh could be using the ploy so she wouldn’t have to tell him why she’d really returned. “I don’t have an answer to that one either, mi vida.”

She poked him hard on the back. “Don’t call me darling.”

Gabe grinned in spite of his rotten mood. Well, she remembered some of her Spanish anyway, along with remembering that she didn’t like him to use that little term of endearment. And that’s why he’d done it. Maybe he could work it into the conversation again. Numerous times. It might make him feel better if she was as annoyed as he was.

He stopped on a solid patch of ground, deposited Leigh on her feet and pulled back some low branches. Just as he hoped it would be, there was the truck hidden behind the curtain of Spanish moss.

“Thank you, Jinx,” Gabe mumbled and opened the door on the driver’s side. “I owe you another one.”

“Jinx?” she asked. “What does he have to do with this?”

“He left this truck here for us, and he sent that warning over the pager to tell us those gunmen were in the parking lot.” Gabe pulled down some moss and used it to clean the mud off his boots. “We’ll spend the night here and head out at first light.”

Leigh stared at him. “Here?”

“Yes, here.” Gabe motioned for her to get inside. He slapped at a couple of mosquitoes that started to feast on his neck. “And hurry up before these things eat us alive.”

She got in all right, after a loud huff, and she scooted toward the other side to get as far away from him as possible. Even then, they were practically shoulder to shoulder when Gabe joined her.

“Might as well get comfortable,” he told her.

Her eyebrow arched. “You’re kidding, right?”

Yeah. He was. There wasn’t much chance of getting comfortable on a narrow seat with Leigh. Still, it probably wasn’t a good idea to say that to her. It would only start another round of questions.

He pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it on the floor along with his holster and all three weapons. “We’ll have to leave the windows up because of the mosquitoes, so it’ll get hot in here. Wanna take off those scrubs?”

She gave him a look that could have withered a new fence post. “Not even if I were on fire and there wasn’t a drop of water for miles around.”

He chuckled and draped his forearm over the steering wheel. “Lie down.”

She glanced at the seat. And then at his bare chest. “You want me to lie down?”

He rolled his eyes. “Hell. Leigh, we’re married. And even if we weren’t, we’d still have to get some rest. That means the seat or outside. I have no intentions of sleeping outside with the snakes and mosquitoes, do you?”

She looked out the window, apparently to weigh her options. Not that she had any options to weigh. She must have figured that out because without a sound, she lay on the seat. With her feet only inches from him, she let her hand dangle over the guns.

Gabe spun her around like a top and put her head right next to his lap.

With her eyes narrowed to slits, Leigh stared up at him. “Is there any particular reason you’re treating me like a prisoner?”

“You bet. I know you too well. Right now, you figure you can’t trust anyone but yourself. You wonder whose side I’m on. In the next hour or so, you’ll start to think you need to get away from me, even at the risk of becoming gator bait. Well, until you figure out I’m the best thing you’ve got going, then I’m staying close. Understand?”

Her mouth twisted as if she’d tasted something sour. “Yes, I understand.” She rolled onto her side, facing the back of the seat. Immediately, she made a strange sound.

“Now what?” he snarled.

“The seat smells like fishing bait.”

Unfortunately, she didn’t smell like bait, but it might have been better for him if she had. Since she was so close, Gabe couldn’t avoid taking in her scent. The smell of the scrubs. Mixed with that was the hint of warm leather from the motorcycle seat. There was sweat, not stale and heavy, but just a hint. And beneath all of that was Leigh’s own unique scent. Distinctively female.

And more than a little distracting.

It was a challenge, but Gabe had to prevent that scent from turning his brain to mush. He forced himself to remember what she’d done. It worked. Until she spoke.

“We don’t get along very well, do we, Sanchez?”

He considered lying. A Justice Department slant on the truth. But there was something in her voice. A plea for the truth, and the truth was exactly what he gave her. “No. We don’t.”

She paused, apparently letting that sink in. “If our situations were reversed, would you trust me?”

Now he’d lie. Except it wouldn’t really be a lie. Yes, their past had been, well, checkered. But if it were a matter of life or death, Leigh would come through for him. Gabe didn’t have to guess about that.

“I’d trust you,” he finally said. “Now, give it a rest and go to—”

“I hate being like this.”

“Sorry, but it’s the best I can offer under the circumstances. I promise, there was a time when you didn’t mind sleeping this close to me.”

“I’m not talking about that. Not entirely anyway,” she added apparently as an afterthought. “I hate not knowing who I am or who you are. You could be an ax murderer, and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

She looked up at him. Gabe looked down and met her gaze in the moonlight. He didn’t want to stare at her, but his body seemed to have a different idea. It was hard not to remember that this was a woman he’d once loved. A woman who’d loved him right back. Then, things had fallen apart.

And that was a whole set of memories he didn’t want to deal with right now.

“I’m not an ax murderer,” he heard himself say. “I gave that up years ago.”

She actually smiled, briefly, but there was a frown not too far behind. “I know nothing about you or me except the few things you’ve let me know. I don’t even know my middle name. I’m too scared to admit I’m scared because I don’t know if I can trust you with that admission of weakness. I’m afraid you’ll use it against me.”

“Leigh.” His voice was gruff. Then it changed. It softened. His hand was already on her hair. It was definitely intimate contact, but he didn’t pull away. Gabe figured he would kick himself for it later. “Being scared doesn’t mean you’re weak. It just means you’re scared. And smart. Stupid people are too stupid to be scared. By the way, your middle name is Ann.”

“Ann,” she repeated on a heavy sigh. “It doesn’t even sound familiar.”

Gabe said nothing. He leaned his head against the cool window and listened to the sound of her voice.

“I don’t know what I was. Who I am. You don’t know how frustrating that is.”

Oh yes he did. Gabe knew a lot about frustration. After all, Leigh was right next to him, and more than anything, he wanted to touch her. Maybe even kiss her again. The old wounds stopped him. And the fact she’d probably slap him if he tried to do anything like that. She didn’t know about the old wounds, but that didn’t mean she trusted him.

“I seem to know a little bit about a lot of things,” she continued. “Like I knew the clinical name for my amnesia, but I didn’t know you. What was I, Gabe? And don’t you dare say I worked in a bookstore in Austin, because I know that’s not right.”

He debated telling her since the truth would just create more questions. But without the truth, he didn’t stand of chance of tapping into her mind to find out what had gone wrong.

“You were an FBI agent,” Gabe answered. “The last year you were with the Bureau, you were part of the ERT, the Evidence Response Team.”

“Yes.” She nodded. Paused. And repeated it. “Now, that feels right.”

It should. She’d been one of the best. “You resigned after all of this happened with the corrupt government official.”

She pushed out a deep breath. Of relief, maybe. It didn’t feel much like relief to Gabe. Her warm breath dusted his bare stomach. Not good. Maybe he should have risked roasting and kept his shirt on after all.

He inched slightly away from her. Not that he could inch very far without leaving the truck.

“So, I was working for the FBI and came across evidence against this official? Then what happened?” she asked.

“Things resolved themselves. At least we thought they had.” He shrugged. “And then you disappeared.”

Leigh started to come off the seat, but Gabe laid a hand on her shoulder to stop her. That would put her mouth much to close to his. He couldn’t handle that right now. Best to keep as much distance between their mouths as possible. Another of those husbandly kisses was the last thing either of them needed.

“I think you left because of me,” Gabe said, anticipating her next question. “We’d talked about a divorce.” It was the truth, even though it was something Jinx and Walters had ordered him not to tell her. “It’s late. We should get some—”

“You didn’t know where I was all this time?”

Hell, she just didn’t intend to stop. “Sometimes I knew,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t quite catch up with you.”

“Was I ever in Houston?”

“Probably.” And he made a mental note that it was the second time she’d mentioned that particular city. “You’re originally from Dallas. Why? Do you remember something about Houston?”

“Not really. It’s just a place that keeps coming to mind, but I can’t associate it with anything. Houston might mean nothing.” A moment later, she dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “I have to ask. Considering our marital problems, just how hard did you look for me during the past two years?”

“I looked,” he said defensively. “You’re the one who walked out. You didn’t want anyone to find you.”

“Apparently someone found me,” she pointed out.

“Maybe. Or maybe you had no choice but to be found. Sometimes things play out that way.”

She stared up at him. “What does that mean?”